The crystal cave - Mary Stewart [157]
I didn't speak.
She gave a laugh that seemed meant to sound gay, but came shrilly. She rolled over again and stretched out her hands. "Well, never mind, you can learn, can't you? You're a man, after all. At least, I thought you were..." Then, suddenly in a fury of impatience: "Oh, for God's sake. Hurry, can't you? I tell you, it'll be all right."
I caught her wrists and held them. "Keri, I'm sorry. I can't explain, but this is...I must not, that's all I know. No, listen, give me a minute."
"Let me go!"
I loosed her and she pulled away and sat up. Her eyes were angry. There were flowers caught in her hair.
I said: "This isn't because of you, Keri, don't think that. It has nothing to do with you -- "
"Not good enough for you, is that it? Because my mother was a whore?"
"Was she? I didn't even know." I felt suddenly immensely tired. I said carefully: "I told you this was nothing to do with you. You are very beautiful, Keri, and the first moment I saw you I felt -- you must know what I felt. But this is nothing to do with feeling. It is between me and -- it is something to do with my -- " I stopped. It was no use. Her eyes watched me, bright and blank, then she turned aside with a little flouncing movement and began to tidy her dress. Instead of "power," I finished: " -- something to do with my magic."
"Magic." Her lip was thrust out like a hurt child's. She knotted her girdle tight with a sharp little tug, and began to gather up the fallen bluebells, repeating spitefully: "Magic. Do you think I believe in your silly magic? Did you really think I even had the toothache, that time?"
"I don't know," I said wearily. I got to my feet.
"Well, maybe you don't have to be a man to be a magician. You ought to have gone into that monastery after all."
"Perhaps." A flower was tangled in her hair and she put a hand up to pull it out. The fine floss glinted in the sun like gossamer. My eye caught the blue mark of a bruise on her wrist. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
She neither answered nor looked up, and I turned away. "Well, goodbye, Keri."
I had gone perhaps six steps when her voice stopped me. "Prince -- "
I turned.
"So you do answer to it?" she said. "I'm surprised. Son of the High King, you say you are, and you don't even leave me a piece of silver to pay for my gown?"
I must have stood staring like a sleepwalker. She tossed the gold hair back over her shoulder and laughed up at me. Like a blind man fumbling, I felt in the purse at my belt and came out with a coin. It was gold. I took a step back towards her to give it to her. She leaned forward, still laughing, her hands out, cupped like a beggar's. The torn gown hung loose from the lovely throat. I flung the coin down and ran away from her, up through the wood.
Her laughter followed me till I was over the ridge and down in the next valley and had flung myself on my belly beside the stream and drowned the feel and the scent of her in the rush of the mountain water that smelled of snow.
9
In June Ambrosius came to Caerleon, and sent for me. I rode up alone, arriving one evening well past supper-time, when the lamps had been lit and the camp was quiet. The King was still working; I saw the spill of light from headquarters, and the glimmer on the dragon standard outside. While I was still some way off I heard the clash of a salute, and a tall figure came out whom I recognized as Uther.
He crossed the way to a door opposite the King's, but with his foot on the bottom step saw me, stopped, and came back. "Merlin. So you got here. You took your time, didn't you?"
"The summons was hasty. If I am to go abroad, there are things I have to do."
He stood still. "Who said you were to go abroad?"
"People talk of nothing else. It's Ireland, isn't it? They say Pascentius has made some dangerous allies over there, and that Ambrosius wants them destroyed quickly. But why me?"
"Because it's their central stronghold he wants destroyed. Have you ever heard of Killare?"
"Who hasn't? They say it's a fortress that's never been taken."
"Then