NIMUë nearly choked on her laughter. Carradoc spluttered his wine all over his new tunic. The laughter in the rest of the hall died a lingering death.
Morgaine’s face drained of color to match Guinevere’s. I hadn’t the time or concentration to worry about her.
“You can’t be serious!” Merlin stood so rapidly his chair fell over backward. He stood and faced the Ardh Rhi, the young man he’d fostered, tutored, and loved as much as his own child. “Acknowledging bastard children before you sire any legitimate ones will endanger the succession.”
“What am I supposed to do, put them into a rudderless boat and cast them adrift?” Arthur raised one eyebrow in imitation of the gesture my father used so often. The half-smile tugged at his mouth.
“Yes,” Nimuë whispered a reply to Arthur’s sarcasm. “Do it and alienate your queen once and for all.” Do it and earn condemnation for all time.
Her thoughts came to me unbidden. I sensed a magic compulsion in her quiet voice. How far did her words — and her thoughts — reach?
Morgaine nodded mutely in agreement. A nudge of her own magic reached out toward Arthur.
Morgaine’s and Nimuë’s magic seemingly had no effect upon the Ardh Rhi. My sprig of rowan still protected Guinevere.
With pride strengthening his stance, Arthur turned back to face the women who had named him father to their babies.
“I will not condemn these innocent children to the mockery and disrespect I received when no one knew my father,” Curyll said with a fierce determination that sent chills up my spine. “These children will be raised with honor, educated as befitting the sons and daughters of royalty.”
Guinevere choked out some protest I couldn’t hear. Her face was still too pale. She was probably in shock.
“Never fear, beloved.” Arthur patted his bride’s hand solicitously. “I will not legitimatize the children, nor will they come to court until they are grown. They will have to earn places in my warband or as suitable wives to warriors, as I earned my place before I was elected to be Ardh Rhi, as our children must do as well. As must any man wishing to be the next Ardh Rhi, my son or no. I trust Lord Carradoc and Lady Wren to keep these babes safe and raise them properly.”
“Will you visit them, Your Highness?” Guinevere asked through tight lips. Her eyes remained fixed on me. A flare of jealousy brought color to her aura and her face.
“From time to time.”
I noticed how careful Arthur was to keep from looking directly at me. Then I wanted to laugh. This was not so much about the children forced upon him as the one I denied him. He would visit my daughter and me when he came to see the other children. He would provide money and tutors for her as well as the others.
All without giving Carradoc reason to suspect the truth.
“We are honored that you entrust us with such a valuable charge, Your Highness.” Carradoc stood and bowed formally.
I looked up then and stared at Arthur. He must have felt my gaze on him and turned away from his queen and my father to face me as if he could no longer deny himself that luxury. I stood beside my husband, careful not to touch him, and curtsied, keeping my back stiff and my expression rigidly neutral.
Nimuë was not so polite. “You can’t let this happen, Myrddin Emrys!” she shouted. “You have to stop this injustice. She,” she pointed at me, “doesn’t deserve this. She will corrupt them with magic. She will command their loyalty, not Arthur. There must be another way!”
Without further explanation, she stormed out of the hall as if she were the jealous bride. Morgaine slipped into the shadows and followed her.
Carradoc stared at his retreating daughter. His mouth opened and closed twice to call her back without uttering a sound. Then he turned bleak eyes upon me. Grief for her loss once more ravaged his face, deepening the lines worry and pain had etched there over the years.
A jolt of fear shot down my spine. What if Carradoc decided to replace Nimuë in his affections with my daughter, or worse — one of the children in our charge? Arthur would kill both of us if Carradoc defiled one of these children.
I had no doubts that Carradoc’s potency would return when faced with Nimuë in his bed or a fearful, innocent virgin who was forbidden to him.
I’d take him back to my own bed before I let that happen.
o0o
“You had no right to interfere, Myrddin Emrys,” I shouted at my father later that evening. I couldn’t call him “Da.” Not anymore. “You have altered the pattern of many, many lives beyond recognition.”
“I had to try. But I couldn’t alter the pattern of the future in the way I intended.” He looked into the distance sadly, as if grieving over a shattered pattern of life — or acknowledging a painful one.
Arthur and Guinevere had retired to their private chamber some hours before. Carradoc had gone in search of Nimuë. He carried a full skin of wine with him. I’d not see him again this night.
“How did you plan to alter the pattern, Myrddin? By making Guinevere so jealous that she would denounce her marriage to Arthur before it was consummated?”
“Yes.”
I gasped at his audacity.
“Since you stopped the spell aimed at her so that she would proclaim her love for Lancelot and refuse to take her vows, I had to do something. The pattern is clear. If Guinevere becomes Ardh Brenhines, Britain will fracture into civil war and leave us vulnerable to the Saxons once more.”
No man had the right to see the future so clearly.
“How can you be so certain? Visions of the future are always veiled and symbolic. They give us the opportunity to change our own lives, not the right to manipulate other people like puppets. You are The Merlin. You taught me that principle.”
“I am different. The gods have singled me out since birth. My destiny was to put Arthur on the throne and keep him there. He is the only warrior strong enough to hold Britain together, to keep the Saxons at bay long enough to prevent them from destroying our gods, our culture, our uniqueness.” He hung his head sadly. “My visions have always been clear, precise in detail. It is a gift and a curse. My twin brother renounced this special gift by taking Christian vows. I could not.”
“Dyfrig is your twin,” I said, acknowledging what I must have known all along. “Your twin not only in blood, but in his role as leader of his faith and spiritual guide to Arthur. At least Arthur hasn’t forsaken the old gods completely. He listens to both of you.”
“You noticed the resemblance between Dyfrig and me,”
“How could I not?”
“My wandering life has kept me skin and bones all my life. Dyfrig travels widely, too, but more comfortably. He has put on some weight these last years. His hair remains black. The gods marked me with prematurely gray hair and beard... and in other ways. He was spared. We have met only a few times since I left the house of the sisterhood with my mother’s uncle — and then always in argument. We grew apart in more ways than just our faith.”
“He does not manipulate and maneuver people to his own whims.”
“He is a politician. He does much the same as I.”
“I have not witnessed this, and he doesn’t upset natural balances by using magic to manipulate people.”
“Remain at court for more than a few days and you will see the balances he upsets — temporal power must be balanced as carefully as natural forces. He would have made our Roman father proud.”
“You have never spoken of your family.” I knew we had Romans in our heritage. The title “Emrys” denoted such. But so close? My own grandfather one of the invaders I had been raised to disdain?
“My mother was a British princess who loved too well if not wisely. She forsook her family for my father and sought Christian baptism. When she was heavily pregnant with Dyfrig and me, Saxons raided our town. My father was killed. Mother hid, witnessing the horrible death of her beloved from a secret passage in the villa. When it was over and she could safely leave, she fled to the holy sisters. After my brother and I were born, she took the vows of her sisterhood. Dyfrig and I were raised among the sisters until we were five. Even by that time, our gift of prophecy was pronounced. Legends grew and many people came to witness the miracles of our glimpses into the future. My mother’s uncle, Blaise, came also. He requested the right to train my twin and me to control our gifts, to become powerful magicians in the old faith. Dyfrig hid behind our mother’s skirts, too afraid of the old man and his talent to venture forth. I was bolder, eager to learn. I demanded permission to leave the shelter of the sisters.”
“Blaise. He was The Merlin before you.”
“Yes.”
“Does your mother still live?”
“Yes. But she is very old and frail now. She does not accept change well. She never forgave me for deserting her. She clung to my brother and me as living memorials of our father. I learned later that she did not take her final vows to the sisterhood until after I left her care.”
“You could have taken me to her after my mother died. I was but an infant, a great deal of trouble for a man alone who wandered the country year after year.”
I had a grandmother. My sense of inner balance stretched a little and resettled. I had a family beyond my father and my children. For the first time in my life I had roots going back in time as well as forward. Curiosity about my mother bubbled up. I’d have to seek out answers to many questions. Later. After I dealt with Da and Arthur.
“The care and tutoring of you, my beloved daughter, was a privilege, not a duty. I felt honored to be entrusted with you. Your destiny and mine are closely linked.”
“How?”
He looked at me with sad eyes but said nothing.
“I have a right to know. Your manipulations have changed my life. You forced me into a marriage with an unfaithful and violent brute to keep me away from Curyll.” A deep hurt within me kept the accusation of incest away from my lips.
I could use it to divorce Carradoc. But what then? I’d have to leave my home and return to my father. Da lived at court now, in close council with Arthur. I couldn’t be happy here as long as my lover was married to another. Could I leave the faery pool by the crystal cave, the standing stones and my people in the village?
“You used a magic compulsion on me to make me marry Carradoc. A compulsion that lasted only until the first time we lay together. Earlier you played with my memories so that I would not remember the druidsbane poisoning Uther or the antidote I prepared and gave him. I am now gweinyddes to nearly a dozen babies that Arthur has acknowledged as his bastards because of your manipulations. Arthur is more than Ardh Rhi. He is Curyll. The boy you nurtured, my friend.”
Da bit his lip, the only sign of second thoughts he might have.
“This parade of former lovers and their children feels like Nimuë’s warped sense of humor, rather than your puppeteering, Myrddin Emrys. I thought better of you. You have never been swayed by a lover before.”
“Nimuë is not my lover and never will be. One of the limitations put upon those of us with the gift of prophecy is celibacy.”
“But... are you truly my father?”
“Yes, Arylwren. I am your father. The gods did not take my slip graciously. They do not forgive easily and marked me as a constant reminder. Raising you to honor the Goddess and carry on our traditions of magic and balance was part of my penitence. I couldn’t have given you up if I wanted to. And I didn’t want to.”
“Your white hair is the mark of the Goddess’ disfavor.”
“And — I am constantly reminded that if I ever take another lover, there will be no reprieve, no forgiveness, even if my special destiny is not fulfilled. Nimuë is my apprentice, and a very adept one. She will never be my lover.”
Thank Dana for that small blessing.
“Your relationship to Nimuë has no bearing on what you did today. You had no right to embarrass Curyll and the entire court with that ludicrous display. I’m certain that at least half of those women have never slept with Arthur. The Curyll I knew eight years ago was too young and sheltered to have fathered the oldest of them.”
“I will endure any amount of embarrassment to maintain peace in Britain, Wren,” he said through gritted teeth. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me slightly to emphasize his point. “Arthur is the only man who can hold the loyalty of all the small kingdoms. If Guinevere betrays him, as I know she must, Arthur will appear weak, lacking in virility. The memory of famine and flood when Uther lost his strength is still fresh in the minds of all Britons. Arthur will be deposed rather than risk the separation of the king from land.”
“There is another way.”
“What? Please, Wren, you must help. Just this once, deliberately interfere. Every time you interact with another life, you alter it no matter your intentions. just this once use your magic to help Britain.”
“No magic. Mundane politics. We must keep Lancelot and Guinevere apart until she has a chance to grow into her love for Arthur. Until she has a chance to mature and control her feelings for Lancelot. Convince Arthur to send Lancelot north with me.”
“Arthur will never allow Lancelot to leave. He is the King’s Champion, his closest friend, and greatest warrior. They have been inseparable since boyhood.”
“Arthur will have no choice but to let him go. I will make it a condition of my taking the children.”
“What of Carradoc? Won’t he see Lancelot’s presence as an insult to his prowess as a warrior and potential tutor-in-arms to the boys?”
“Not if Nimuë persuades him. He can deny her nothing.” I shuddered at the form the persuasion would take. I’d hoped that perversion had ended forever.
To save Arthur and his marriage I had to allow it, encourage their incestuous union. To save Arthur and his marriage and thus all of Britain, I would reconcile with my stepdaughter and accept Carradoc back into my bed. If I had to.