I walked into Dun Edin and found Arthur’s troops and companions lining the walls. Lot’s men formed an inner ring, their weapons piled symbolically in the center of the compound. Arthur faced Morgaine in the doorway of the ruined Hall. His face was pale and thunderous. He clenched his fists at his sides. I could tell by the set of his shoulders he worked very hard not to raise his dominant left hand and strike his half sister. His closest companions and Lot stood behind them, slightly removed, staring at their boots.
The wolfhound pup strained at a leash clenched in Arthur’s other hand. She barked at everything, including my entrance. No one paid her any attention.
Nimuë wept uncontrollably within the shelter of her father’s arm. They stood to Morgaine’s left, not quite a part of the inner circle but closer to the confrontation than anyone else. I wondered if she only made noise or if she actually produced tears.
“What have you done with The Merlin and his daughter? Where are they?” Arthur shouted. He reached to grab Morgaine by the throat, thought better of the gesture at the last moment, and made a fist instead. He shook it in her face. Anger blotched red on his pale face.
The dog danced and pulled toward me.
“You will never find The Merlin, brother dearest, even if he lies at your feet.” Morgaine remained cool and pale; her cloud of dark hair framed her beautiful face, adding a touch of fragility to her profile. A sculpted profile that was too perfect, too controlled, too beautiful to be real.
The dog broke free of Arthur’s restraint and leaped for me, trailing the leash. She nearly knocked me over, but I welcomed her unconditional love with open arms. I grabbed her face and rubbed her ears affectionately as I asked her politely to sit and be quiet.
No one turned to see what fascinated the dog. Arthur and Morgaine presented a much more interesting display.
“You don’t have to look in the hellhole prison that Morgaine dug out of solid rock beneath the far palisade,” I called in reply.
Arthur whirled to face me. Surprise and relief crossed his face. Anger remained in his eyes. “Where have you been?” he asked as he took in the pack pony and our drenched cloaks. And the stink of my clothes.
“Irrelevant.” I adopted my father’s superior tone. “A fleet of a dozen dragon boats is headed this way.” I fondled the dog’s ears, letting her lick some of the stink from my hands and face.
“What?” Arthur’s emotions exploded in that one word. “I need details!”
I turned to exit the caer the way I had come, leading the pony with my father riding the beast. The dog kept close to my side. I had delivered my message. Now I needed to get my father home. At the faery pool, with the women I had gathered in my sanctuary I could find enough magic to heal him.
“Myrddin!” Nimuë ceased her weeping and flung herself at my father. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed from being rubbed, but dry.
Carradoc frowned and glared at me. I shrugged in dismissal. Morgaine’s malevolent gaze concerned me more. I could see only one question in her eyes: “How?”
Maybe enough of the stink had washed away from me in the storm so she couldn’t detect my route into the caer by smell. I smiled slightly, keeping my eyes away from the lines of guards who were supposed to be loyal to her husband and, by inference, to her. I couldn’t have done it without their passive cooperation.
“What? Where? When?” Arthur strode toward me in long purposeful steps, his prisoners forgotten.
“Soon, on this coast. I think they will land close to the long sandbar about five miles south of here,” I replied.
“How do you know this, Wren?”
“She had a vision from the Goddess,” Da replied from behind me. Nimuë still clung to him, but he seemed more alert than he had on the journey back to Dun Edin.
“I can’t trust visions and maybes. I need facts!” Arthur roared. “Cai, take a dozen men on fast horses and scout the sandbar. Send messengers back at first sighting, I don’t want to alert the raiders with a signal fire. Bedewyr, take your men and scout south of the bar. Lancelot, you and your men scout north.” Arthur continued to bark orders.
“What about them?” I pointed to Morgaine.
“My troops are yours to command, Highness.” Lot bent one knee in homage to his Ardh Rhi.
“Arm them and deploy them on the road south. You take orders from Cai. Serve me well, Lot, and I may allow you to keep the Orcades. One hint of betrayal and you won’t live long enough to see me elevate Agravain to the kingship.”
Lot kept his head bowed in submission. Morgaine bristled with indignation. New plots seemed to form behind her eyes. I doubted Agravain would live very long if he did seek election to the crown of the Orcades.
Arthur ignored his half sister. He turned to face his troops. “I want everyone ready to ride before word comes back of the Saxon landing.”
“And Morgaine?” I reminded Arthur in a whisper. “Will you leave her unguarded at your back?”
“Carradoc! You have the honor of escorting my sister to her home in the Orcades. I trust you not to be tempted by her beauty or her magic.”
I sighed my relief. Carradoc wouldn’t be home anytime soon. And he wouldn’t be tempted by anyone but his daughter.
“Curyll?” I stopped the Ardh Rhi before he could be further distracted. “Da is ill. I need to take him home to nurse him. May we go now, unhindered?”
Arthur looked from me to Da and back again.
“Of course, Wren. Bring him back to health quickly. I need him. Britain needs him.” He clasped my shoulder affectionately.
I let the warmth of his touch fill me, aching to hold him closer. Cherishing what little of him I could have.
I love you.
He made no sign that he heard my thoughts.
“The Merlin is too ill to travel,” Nimuë proclaimed loudly. Da had dismounted and clung to her for support. She caressed his filthy hair and beard. “Highness, may I have the privilege of nursing him back to health here. Lady Wren is needed back at the nursery.”
Carradoc crowded my back. His anger radiated out in waves of heat. I needed to leave before he sought me as a target for Nimuë’s seeming preference for my father. Every step I took away from him, he followed. The dog snarled and bristled her neck fur. I couldn’t step farther away from him without being obvious in my avoidance of my lawful husband. He’d find a way to punish me, even if I divorced him on the spot.
“Myrddin Emrys!” Arthur walked over to my father, clasping his arm in true affection and concern. “Can you travel, or do you wish to rest here with Nimuë at your side? Wren really is needed back home.”
“My days as The Merlin are numbered,” Da said. His tired voice rose barely above a whisper. He fingered his torc in the familiar gesture that helped him think. “There is nothing that Wren can do for me that time and Nimuë cannot also cure. I prefer to stay with her.” Da had eyes only for Nimuë; eyes that glowed with love.
“But, Da...” I wanted to tell him that I thought I knew how to work the great healing magic. I wanted to tell him of Nimuë’s betrayal.
Nimuë’s eyes and Carradoc’s presence stopped my words. They’d find a way to twist my words to their advantage. They’d find a way to steal my secret knowledge. I knew it.
“So be it,” Arthur said. “Wren, take a few hours to bathe and rest. Then you must return to the children.” Our daughter. This time his thoughts broke through to me loud and clear. Love our daughter, as I am not allowed to. Protect her when I can’t.
o0o
Carradoc followed me to my father’s large, two-room tent. What happened to the little hut he could dismantle in minutes? He always preferred the circular shelter half-submerged and lashed together in such a way he could roll the stick walls and twig roof into tight bundles and carry them on his back.
The luxury and orderliness of the campaign tent reeked of Nimuë’s perfume and presence.
Da and Nimuë followed us out of Dun Edin at a more leisurely pace. I was alone with my husband for the first time in nearly two years.
The servants had not yet arrived with hot water and clean clothes.
“You embarrassed me!” Carradoc shouted as soon as the outer tent flap dropped behind him.
The wolfhound pup growled and strained at her leash outside the tent.
“I saved the king’s most trusted councillor. That should bring honor to our house, not shame.”
“You rode across half of Britain by yourself, waded through a sewer, and disappeared.” He raised his fist.
I stared at his clenched fingers above my head.
“You only seek an excuse to hit someone because Nimuë seduces my father rather than you. You no longer control her life,” I said calmly.
Even watching for the blow, bracing for it, I couldn’t duck fast enough. His fist caught me above my left ear.
Bells rang inside my head. Stars burst before my eyes. The world swam around me. I had no balance, no sense of anything but the pain exploding in my head.
Sense returned to me as I hit the ground at his feet. The tent wobbled as the wolfhound barked and jumped, trying to break free to protect me. I heard footsteps approaching, perhaps come to investigate the dog’s distress.
“You promised never to hurt me!” I levered myself up on one elbow. Gingerly I fingered the sore spot on my temple. The old scar where Da had cut out my memory of druidsbane bled. I’d have a new scar to remind me how men sought to control my life.
“You aren’t hurt,” Carradoc sneered. “ ’Tis my right to teach you proper behavior.” He lifted his foot to kick me.
I rolled away.
“You broke your promise. A promise sealed in a circle.” All of my anger at him, my pain, and my outrage at his cruelty and his incest boiled up from my stomach.
“Promises are for cowards. No man will question my honor with accusations of cowardice!”
“I divorce you, Carradoc.”
He reared back in surprise.
I had said the words calmly. When I had said them three times in his presence our marriage would end.
“You won’t end this marriage while I live,” Carradoc raised his fist again.
“’Tis her right,” Arthur said as he wrenched Carradoc’s wrist behind him and pressed upward. His mouth turned white with the force of his grip. “I will uphold her right by law, Carradoc. And I will break your arm before I let you hit any woman again.”
The two men stared at each other for a long moment.
“You have your orders, Carradoc. Leave now with my sister. Guard her well if you wish to return to court.”
“This is not finished, Wren. You won’t always have your lover or your father to rush to your defense.” Carradoc left the tent rapidly. Anger turned his aura black, shot with silver lightning. As black as the demon in the portal to the Netherworld.
He was vulnerable to Morgaine and her demons! I couldn’t let him go with her. I couldn’t let him stay.
o0o
Curyll paced Da’s tent while I bathed behind a small privacy screen. He issued orders for meeting the Saxons in a distracted manner. He paid careful attention to orders for my horse and pack, the feeding of my dog, and selecting two men to escort me and remain at Caer Noddfa to protect the children. His anxiety for the safety and well-being of the children consumed him more than the battle that loomed with the Saxons.
Morgaine had struck at him through the children from a distance before. Thwarted, but not defeated, she could easily lash out again. I knew I had to hurry home to protect the children.
But I lingered with Da as long as Arthur allowed. I didn’t need a vision from the Goddess to know that this was the last time I would see my father. He had chosen to stay with Nimuë. Nothing I could do would change his mind or his fate.
The music in my life died as I bid him farewell. Someday I would sing songs to his honor. Not yet. My love for him and my grief were too deep to express in aught but tears.
Arthur’s anxiety infected me as well. I didn’t know which direction danger would strike from, only that he feared it. My journey home was slower and less desperate than my dangerous ride to Dun Edin. The half-trained warhorse carried me well, my escort eased the finding of shelter with coin and the Ardh Rhi’s writ.
I rode through the gates of Caer Noddfa at sunset of the third day of travel. Diones and Hannah greeted me and my escort with wary glances and bowed heads
“The children?” I asked with frantic glances around the courtyard. Three of my charges played with Yvain by the well under the watchful eyes of Newynog and the old raven. My dog didn’t jump to greet me or her pup, a sure sign that the children were in graver danger than I.
Hannah looked at me with wide, frightened eyes, then her gaze drifted to the walls and back to the two weary men who had accompanied me.
Extra guards ringed the fortress. I did not know two faces out of five. They wore standard metal-studded leather armor without distinguishing markings. I knew every man, woman, and child who called Caer Noddfa home. I did not know these two. Three more by the stable were equally unfamiliar to me. “Do you know any of the men on guard?” I whispered to my escort.
They shook their heads.
“Who?” I asked Diones in an undertone not meant to be heard beyond him.
“In the Long Hall,” he said so quietly I had to strain to hear him.
I dropped my reins, signaling in the same gesture for my escort to accompany me. They owed their lives and their loyalty to Arthur. They bore his royal writ to protect me and the children.
A messenger wearing the royal insignia of the dragon rampant on his tunic feasted alone in my hall. Somehow he and his men had instilled fear in my people.
“Ah, Lady Wren,” the man said when he spied me at the end of the hall. He belched and laid down the haunch of venison he chewed. “I bid you good news. Your duties to the royal children are finished. I am charged to take them back to Camlann.”
“Oh?” I raised one eyebrow. The gesture came easily to me now, almost as if Da had bequeathed it to me. “Show me the edict from His Highness Arthur Pendragon.” I held out my hand for a scroll, knowing it would not bear Arthur’s signature.
“The... ah... Ardh Brenhines ordered me to give you this.” He held out a rolled parchment. The royal seal of the Pendragon decorated the bottom along with a second seal showing a Christian cross. The orders were written in Latin; signed by Archbishop Dyfrig and Queen Guinevere.
This was the danger Arthur feared.
“What will the Lord Bishop and Ardh Brenhines do with Arthur’s children? Set them adrift in a rudderless boat?”
The messenger flushed a deep red before stammering some incomprehensible phrases.
“I have just left His Highness the Ardh Rhi. He ordered me to keep his children here, safe as only the daughter of The Merlin can keep them safe.” I stared the man directly in the eye as I threw the parchment into the fire.
“Lady Wren,” Father Thomas protested. He rushed from the doorway to fish the decree from the flames. “This is signed by my Archbishop Dyfrig and the Ardh Brenhines. It bears the royal seal, kept by the archbishop and brenhines during the Ardh Rhi’s absence. There can be no question that these orders must be obeyed.” The priest who had become my friend had the grace to appear embarrassed.
“I do not recognize the authority of the archbishop,” I replied.
“But I must.” Father Thomas bowed his head.
“I command the resources of the fortress. I take my orders only from the Goddess and the Ardh Rhi. I have a more recent writ from Arthur, signed in my, presence.” I held up the smaller scroll my escort handed me. I snapped it open to reveal Arthur’s personal seal.
“That’s a forgery!” The messenger half stood, hand on the hilt of his dagger.
My escort drew their long battle swords from the sheaths on their backs. They moved in unison, pointing their weapons at the messenger’s throat.
He gulped and sheathed his dagger. My guards did not drop theirs.
“You are no longer welcome here, messenger. Be gone now.”
“My horse is not rested.” He sat down again at the center of the table, in the lord’s place of honor.
“Then walk.” I strode to him and yanked the chair from beneath his ample buttocks. “And take your men with you. Ardh Rhi Arthur Pendragon must fetch the children himself if he wishes to make other provisions for them. And remind Brenhines Guinevere that she herself refused to have Arthur’s bastards at her court.”
The messenger scuttled out the doorway.
“Typical!” I exclaimed. “Guinevere can’t think a plan through. She acts on a whim and then doesn’t remember what she has done.”
“True,” Father Thomas stared at the original missive. “But my archbishop...”
“Dyfrig will do almost anything to discredit me and my father. He would probably find some way to destroy the children and blame The Merlin. He could not know that I would see the Ardh Rhi in Dun Edin and receive more recent orders. He would not believe that I would question orders sealed with the Pendragon.”
Without further comment, I stalked into the nursery and gathered all of the little ones tightly in my arms. The pattern of my life shifted and refocused. All the pieces I had been sorting and fussing with, all of my life, fell into place. I hugged each of the children individually and all of them together. They were really my children, no matter who had borne or sired them. They were my legacy to Britain, as I was my father’s legacy. I could be The Merlin in my own quiet way, teaching these precious young lives all that I knew. They would carry my father in their hearts and tell the stories long after the rest of us had crumbled to dust.