The Hollow Hills - Mary Stewart [132]
"It was a queer thing," he said slowly. "I've never forgotten it. That night, when they attacked us, I thought I heard you call my name. A warning, clear as a trumpet, or a dog barking. And now you say you were watching." He shifted his shoulders as if at a sudden draught, then grinned. "I'd forgotten about you, my lord. I'll have to get used to it again, I suppose. Do you still watch us? It could be an awkward thought, at times."
I laughed. "Not really. If there was danger it would come through to me, I think. Otherwise it seems I can leave it to you. But come, tell me, did you ever find out who it was attacked you that night?"
"No. They wore no blazon. We killed two of them, and there was nothing on them to show whose men they were. Count Ector thought they must be outlaws or robbers. I think so, too. At any rate there's been nothing since then, nothing at all."
"I thought not. And now there must be nothing to connect Myrddin the hermit with Merlin the enchanter. What has been said about the new holy man of the chapel in the green?"
"Only that Prosper had died and that God had sent a new man at the appointed time, as he has always done. That the new man is young, and quiet-seeming, but not as quiet as he seems."
"And just what do they mean by that?"
"Just what they say. You don't always bear yourself just like a humble hermit, sir."
"Don't I? I can't think why not; it's what I normally am. I must guard myself."
"I believe you mean that." He was smiling, as if amused. "I shouldn't worry, they just think you must be holier than most. It's always been a haunted place, this, and more so now, it seems. There are stories of a spirit in the shape of a huge white bird that flies in men's faces if they venture too far up the track, and -- oh, all the usual tales you always get about hauntings, silly country stories, things one can't believe. But two weeks back -- did you know that a troop of men was riding this way from somewhere near Alauna, and a tree fell across the way, with no wind blowing, and no warning?"
"I hadn't heard that. Was anyone hurt?"
"No. There's another path; they used that."
"I see."
He was watching me curiously. "Your gods, my lord?"
"You might call them that. I hadn't realized I was to be so closely guarded."
"So you knew something like this might happen?"
"Not until you told me. But I know who did it, and why."
He frowned, thinking. "But if it was done deliberately...If I am to bring Emrys this way again -- "
"Emrys will be safe. And he is your safe conduct, too, Ralf. Don't fear them."
I saw his brows twitch at the word "fear," then he nodded. I thought he seemed anxious, even tense. He asked me: "How long do you suppose you will be here?"
"It's hard to judge. You must know it depends on the High King's health. If Uther recovers fully, it may be that the boy will stay here until he is fourteen, and ready to go to his father. Why, Ralf? Can you not resign yourself to obscurity for a few more years? Or do you find it too taxing riding guard on that young gentleman?"
"No -- that is, yes. But -- it isn't that..." He stammered, flushing.
I said, amused: "Who is she?"
I did not quite understand his scowling look until, after a pause, he asked: "How much else did you see, when you watched Arthur in the fire?"
"My dear Ralf!" It was not just the moment to tell him that the stars tend only to mirror the fate of kings and the will of gods. I said mildly: "The Sight doesn't as a rule take me beyond bedchamber doors. I guessed. Your face is about as concealing as a gauze curtain. And you must remember to call him Emrys even when you are angry."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- Not that there was anything you couldn't have watched -- I mean, I've never even been in her bedchamber...I mean, she's -- oh, hell and damnation, I should have known you'd know all about it. I didn't mean to be insolent. I'd forgotten you never take anything the way other men do. I never know where I am with you, You've been away too long...There are the horses now. He seems to have saddled yours as well. I thought