“I don’t like changing things around like this,” Stinger said. He stood up and started to pace, one hand on his torc in obvious imitation of my father.
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing as he puffed out his chest and tried without success to raise one eyebrow. Stinger was good at details. He had the gestures and the posture, but his facial expression and voice lacked the assurance and maturity of The Merlin. His mock sternness did nothing to diminish the perfection of his face and the grace of his movements. He’d always be the most beautiful man around.
Interesting that Stinger mimicked my father while arguing against him.
“The Merlin has a point. We are older now. We deserve the individuality of different birthdays,” Ceffyl argued. He slapped a small daub of brown paint in the middle of a plain white shield.
“But we have always celebrated our births together on Imbolc — even Wren.” Stinger continued pacing rather than correcting Ceffyl’s inexpert painting of the whitewashed wooden shield for Curyll. We didn’t have much time to create another gift for Curyll. Da had announced only yesterday that tonight, the day before the Winter Solstice, we celebrated Curyll’s birthday.
“Our birthdays make us special,” Stinger continued. “We were all conceived at Beltane and no man can be certain he is our sire even if he claims us! The Merlin has fostered Beltane babies all over the country. That’s what holds us together. That’s why we’re here.”
As the only girl in the group and the youngest, I liked the idea of having a birthday all to myself. I’d been forgotten often enough in the bustle of honoring Curyll, Stinger, and Ceffyl at the same time. Only Boar celebrated his birthday on the Spring Equinox, but then he was Lord Ector’s son rather than a fosterling.
Da always remembered me with a special treat, a new cloak or sometimes merely a bunch of the first snowdrops gathered in the nearby woods. Once, a green faery kissed my nose on my birthday. He left me with the scent-memory of cedar trees on a bright spring day. But I couldn’t tell anyone about that.
“How does The Merlin know on what days each of you was born?” Boar asked. He sat back against the wall, arms folded across his broadening chest. He’d done the hard work of stretching a thick deer hide over the wooden frame of the shield and considered his contribution to the gift finished.
I had whitewashed the whole thing with a special mixture and a few murmured charms of protection. Ceffyl had made the leather hand grip and fastened it to the back. Stinger, with his fine eye for detail, was supposed to paint it with the bear symbol Curyll had adopted. But he paced and shouted instead.
Ceffyl dripped a glob of paint at the bear’s rear, making it look as if he trailed shit rather than marching majestically as a revered creation of strength.
“We’ve got to be more careful with this. It has to be a special gift!” I pushed Ceffyl out of the way and grabbed his paint rag. Luckily I had some whitewash left. I’d mixed rowan and betony into the lime for protection. The paint had a faint greenish tint, but the others wouldn’t notice until the shield was held against something very white.
“What we need is an enchantment to help Curyll speak. He talks more now since Father Thomas exorcised the demons, but he still stutters and he’s hiding in silence almost as badly as before,” Stinger said. All three of the boys stopped to stare at me expectantly.
I stared back at them, eyes as wide and innocent as I could make them. I agreed with them, but there was nothing I could do. Later perhaps, not now.
“Stinger, you’ve the best eye and control over your brush. You paint the bear. And do it right. Remember, this is for Curyll, so it has to be special. I’m going to talk to Da.” I stood up and stalked out of the room as if I really had a purpose.
I almost stumbled over Da and Curyll in our chamber. Curyll sat on my low stool near the door. Da stood in front of him, very still, eyes intent upon my friend. I stopped my headlong dash into the room with a jerk and stood just as still as my father.
He dangled a brightly faceted crystal in front of Curyll, letting it spin on a slender silver chain. Winter sunshine poured in through the tiny window, sending rainbows arcing through the crystal.
“You have nothing to fear, Arthur. No one will laugh at you. When you awaken, you will speak clearly and without hesitation. Do you understand?”
“Y-e-s,” Curyll said, very slowly, without repetition.
“Very good, Arthur. You will awaken when I count to three. You will be refreshed as if you had slept well. And you will not stutter. One, two, three.” Da snapped his fingers.
Curyll blinked his eyes rapidly and looked around as if he truly had slept.
“Wh-what ha-happened?” he asked.
Da’s smile crumbled.
“Nothing, Curyll. You dozed off over your lessons,” I said soothingly. “It’s nearly time for you to bathe and change your clothes for the fest.”
Curyll smiled at me as he nodded. He unfolded his legs and rose from the stool. He’d grown this winter and stood almost as tall as Da. As he passed me, he ruffled my hair affectionately. A small shower of crushed herbs fell to my shoulders. I couldn’t keep twigs out of my hair even when I’d been indoors for a month.
“What did I do wrong? The trick should have worked,” Da moaned when we were alone again.
“You used his true name, Da.” Arthur, the name I disliked and never used. I forgot it again almost as soon as Da spoke it, but whether this was due to my own desire or Da’s subtle suggestion I didn’t know. “No one uses his real name, and he doesn’t answer to it. You should have called him Curyll.”
“Aye. But it’s too late now. He won’t succumb to a trance so easily next time. He barely accepted it this time. I’ll have to think of something different.”
I had already thought of something but didn’t know how to go about doing it.
We gathered at sunset for a small fest. Tomorrow night we would celebrate the Solstice and truly feast and play. But tonight there would be stories and songs and special treats, honeyed nuts, dried fruits stewed in wine, and a haunch of bear that Curyll had brought down in the hunt. All of the men had helped, but Curyll’s spear had found the heart. The hunt had been especially prophetic since he’d adopted the bear symbol and this was his fourteenth birthday. Tonight he would be acknowledged a man.
The servants carried in the meat upon a huge platter. They circled the hall three times, deosil, on the path of the sun before setting it on the serving table at the base of the dais.
Curyll and Lord Ector stood shoulder to shoulder — Curyll a little taller — before the platter of meat. They wore their second-best shirts of unbleached linen and long tunics of wool only slightly less coarse and longer than their usual garments. Curyll wore golden brown that precisely matched the bear on his new shield — I’d worked hard to get that color. Lord Ector wore his usual dark green that highlighted the red in his graying hair. Curyll especially looked beautiful tonight — not precisely beautiful as Stinger was, but special, glowing with pride.
I stood between Stinger and Ceffyl at the end of the lower table. Boar and Curyll would sit at the high table tonight, Boar because he was family, Curyll because it was his birthday. My two companions each clasped one of my hands in excitement. Soon they, too, would be allowed to carve the meat as symbol of their manhood. Stinger held the shield at his side, keeping it in the shadows of the table. My heart nearly burst in my chest with emotions I couldn’t name. All four of these young men were my friends. But Curyll was special to all of us. I knew deep in my soul that my destiny was entwined with Curyll’s.
Curyll reaching for the carving knife. His right to make the first cut tonight.
Stinger raised the shield to be ready to present it to our friend as soon as the ceremony of meat cutting was finished.
Lord Ector stayed Curyll’s hand by covering the knife hilt with his own square and hairy fist.
“Lord Ector?” Da asked from the dais.
“He’s not a man yet.”
“B-but — I — I am four-four-teen,” Curyll protested.
“You aren’t a man until you can tell me so without hesitation and without stuttering. Until then, you will always be ranked as a commoner or a child.” Lord Ector set his chin determinedly.
Lady Glynnis opened her mouth to protest, then clamped it firmly shut. She looked at her hands. Her face turned bright red beneath her fair hair.
“I do protest, Lord Ector,” Da said. “Curyll has earned his place in the hunt, in trials of arms, and in his studies.”
“Until he can speak, he is not a man.” Lord Ector nudged Curyll aside. “Fallon, as my oldest son, I entrust the meat carving to you tonight.”
Curyll marched past us, back straight, steps determined. I saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. He shoved Stinger out of the way. The shield clattered to the floor, the only sound in the silent hall.
“Not tonight, Father.” Fallon set his ale cup firmly on the table and followed Curyll out the door. Stinger, Boar, and Ceffyl joined him in a unified march. I trailed along behind, plotting furiously in my head.
o0o
The winter passed. Curyll barely spoke a dozen words over the next four months.
“I beg of you, Ector, friend, do not send Curyll and Cai to war this year.” Da’s raised voice broke my concentration. I abandoned my study of Tanio to listen.
Da had forbidden me trying even the tiniest bit of magic since my first near disastrous spell. I now spent my time in endless lessons. I was supposed to spend this first day past the Vernal Equinox contemplating how flames licked sea coal in a brazier. I needed to know the properties of this element in all its forms before I could call it to do my bidding. Differences in color and scent were obvious. But I didn’t yet understand why tiny flamelets licked the coal and wore it down slowly rather than long tongues of flame consuming the fuel in large mouthfuls, as they did wood.
Instead, I listened to my elders argue. Much more interesting.
Da often chided me for paying attention to everything but what I should be doing. I had turned nine nearly two months ago at Imbolc and should be past letting my wits flow with every fragment of new thought.
They discussed Curyll. This could be more important than studying Tanio.
“My sons and fosterlings will fight at my side this summer. All of my fosterlings,” Lord Ector said. “I cannot deny the orders of the Ardh Rhi. He specifically asked me to bring all of them, trained or no. Cai and Curyll are as fit as Garoth and Fallon, or Lancelot and Bedewyr, who are both a year younger than Cai and Curyll.” Lord Ector held up a rolled parchment brought by special messenger that morning.
All of us had seen Ardh Rhi Uther Pendragon’s royal emblem of the red dragon rampant on the saddlebags of the courier when he rode through the gates.
“The boys have only just passed their fourteenth birthdays. Their bodies are not yet fully grown,” Da argued.
“I fought with Ambrosius Aurelianus and Uther against Vortigen and his Jutish mercenaries when I was twelve!”
I remembered then that the people we called Saxons were actually from a number of tribes. We lumped them all under the same cursed name of the foreign invaders who menaced our shores.
Ector continued bellowing. “I earned my warrior beads that same summer.” He shook his head to emphasize the red-brown beads woven into a plait of hair above his left ear. One bead for each life he had taken in battle. “Curyll is more fit and taller than my older sons who have three beads apiece. Cai and Bedewyr won’t stay behind if I take Curyll. And I will not leave Lancelot the Stinger behind, as he handles weapons better than most seasoned warriors. The boys follow me into battle this year. They need the experience now, so that may lead men when they come of age.”
“Curyll does not yet speak well enough. He needs another year for confidence.”
“Nonsense. When he sinks his sword into the gut of a Saxon, he’ll learn confidence. If he doesn’t, he’ll just have to fight with the men-at-arms instead of on horseback with the marchogs.” Lord Ector rubbed his lower back and rotated his shoulders. Then he said more quietly, “I’m getting too old for this.”
I crept closer to them through the passage between the sleeping quarters and the hall. The shadows wrapped around me like old friends. I became one with them. To the men in the hall, I was invisible.
This was a trick I’d learned on my own. A trick, not magic. I could observe and listen anytime, anyplace. For a moment I felt a little guilty. Da had caught me yesterday eavesdropping on two servants who kissed and clung together as they made plans to meet in the pantry at midnight.
Last spring I had watched the mating of livestock as part of my education. I presumed this was a first step in preparation for my own Beltane initiation — when the time came. The mystery of human mating still baffled me. I hoped the servants would enlighten me.
“Curiosity is good, if it leads you to ask the proper questions and make the proper observations,” Da had said yesterday as he hauled me back to my lessons. “But you, Wren, are just plain nosy. Nothing happens in this caer that you don’t spy out, whether you should or not.”
I pushed aside the memory and the ensuing guilt of eavesdropping. My senses warned me that this conversation between Da and Lord Ector was important to me and to my dear friend Curyll.
“Give him one more year, Ector, please.” Da’s eyes burned with emotions too complex for me to read or understand. I smelled the sweat of fear on him from across the room.
“So it is Curyll you plead for. Not my son Cai, or Bedewyr, my brother’s son who is a year younger, or Lancelot who mystifies us all with his brilliance with weapons. Curyll, the babe you brought me to foster with only vague hints to an illustrious parentage. Who is Curyll, Myrddin Emrys? Whose bastard is he that you tutor him in policy, religions, and court etiquette when he should be only a common soldier?” A pronounced vein beat angrily in Lord Ector’s neck.
I heard a gasp beside me. Only then did I realize Curyll had crept to the same curtained portal to eavesdrop.
Curyll’s fists clenched tightly at his sides. Anger darkened his face. His muscles bunched as he prepared to launch himself at his foster father, fists flying.
“Ssh.” I held up a finger to my lips. “Listen first.”
He didn’t move, but his fists remained clenched and ready.
“The boy’s destiny is not mine to reveal,” Da said. His eyes lost focus a moment and drifted into another world. His left hand touched the fat bulb on his torc. I wondered which spell he was preparing — perhaps he’d invade Ector’s mind and make him do as Da wished.
“What have you seen in the stars, Merlin?” Lord Ector grabbed Da’s arm, making his sleeve ride up.
I caught a brief glimpse of his Druid tattoos — endless knots winding up his arm with no apparent beginning and no end. The sigils of Male, Female, Birth, Death, and Infinity entwined with the unified knots creating a complex pattern only Da could decipher. Ector saw the tattoos as well and shut his mouth abruptly. No magic burst from Da. Ector listened respectfully.
A hint of mad laughter erupted from Da, a sure sign that what he was about to say carried the weight of true prophecy. Only a hint, not the gales of uncontrollable laughter I had heard him spew forth with true visions of the future. Another trick. “Look at the boy, Ector. Look at his skill on horseback and with weapons. Look at his adeptness with written words and numbers even though you had thought him stupid because he could not speak. Look closely at him and know that there is more in him than just another landless warrior. He must not go to war this summer.” Da’s voice echoed around the hall. His tattoos, symbols of his priesthood, gave him the right to interpret the patterns of past, present, and future. Only a Druid could make sense of the pattern and maintain continuity.
Da merely spoke the truth of what was, not what would be.
I had seen what would be in the bowl of water last winter. I remembered the urge to laugh as the vision grew in the water. But I’d been coughing so hard laughter eluded me.
“I have looked closely at Curyll,” Ector said. “I know he can wage war and lead men — if he will but speak. He has had enough practice. Now he needs experience. I intend to give him that experience. He’ll need it to win loyalty since you give him no true name. Unless you tell me otherwise, he will be introduced to the Ardh Rhi and the assembled war-bands as a bastard of unknowns.” Ector seemed to dismiss Da and his vision.
“Then you condemn Curyll to a miserable life and quick death.” Da’s voice returned to normal, almost sad. “You condemn Britain to decades of endless warfare until the invaders murder everything that is good and true in our land.”
This time, to my sensitive ears, his words carried the ring of prophecy. Had he seen the end of the scene that I had glimpsed in the bowl of water?
Curyll turned and stalked to the door, back rigid, knees so stiff he jerked with each step. He held his head high, but I could tell trouble rode his shoulders like a demon poised to work mischief. I watched the archway where he had disappeared for a long moment, wondering at the torment that raged within him. I left the shadows of the corridor to follow.
“Back to your studies, Wren.” Da grabbed the back of my gown to restrain me. He’d crept up behind me on soundless feet.
“But Curyll needs me,” I protested.
“The boy needs time alone. You can’t solve all of his problems for him. Nor can I.” Da looked sad at that. “We won’t always be here for him. Now back to your contemplation of the fire. Have you learned why the element varies its properties in sea coal?”
I knew that frown on Da’s face. If I wanted to avoid his anger, I had to come up with an answer now. He might resort to calling me “Arylwren” if I didn’t.
What was the difference between sea coal and wood? “Salt,” I blurted out the first thing I thought of. “Sea coal bears the salt of the sea.”
Da raised one eyebrow but said no word. His blue eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. I warmed to my subject under his tacit approval.
“I must throw salt onto wood and light it to test my theory,” I said. Da always made me prove my guesses.
“And?” Da prompted me.
“Sea salt as well as mined salt. Why are the two different?” My mind wandered down a different track. I didn’t want to study, I wanted to cast magic spells so I could help Curyll. But what did he need? Knowledge. Knowledge was gained by observation and study.
I needed to study more than just Tanio to learn about Curyll’s family and his future. The right questions asked of the servants with the loosest tongues might help.
“Da, why didn’t you use magic to make Lord Ector agree with you?”
“Magic is not the solution to everything. If I had forced Ector’s decision, the spell would not have stayed.”
“Just like if Father Thomas had forced Helwriaeth to give up Curyll’s tongue, it wouldn’t have stayed with him. The cat gave it back of her own free will.”
“We have discussed this at length, Wren. Now back to your studies and learn why magic must be used only when necessary.”