The Hollow Hills - Mary Stewart [155]
"I was seeing a settled and shining land, with corn growing rich in the valleys, and farmers working their fields in peace as they did in the time of the Romans. I was seeing a sword growing idle and discontented, and the days of peace stretching into bickering and division, and the need of a quest for the idle swords and the unfed spirits. Perhaps it was for this that the god took the grail and the spear back from me and hid them in the ground, so that one day you might set out to find the rest of Macsen's treasure. No, not you, but Bedwyr...It is his spirit, not yours, which will hunger and thirst, and slake itself in the wrong fountains."
As if from far away, I heard my own voice die, and silence come back. The thrush had flown, the bees seemed quiet. The boy was on his feet now, and staring.
He said, with all the force of simplicity: "Who are you?"
"My name is Myrddin Emrys, but I am known as Merlin the enchanter."
"Merlin? But then -- but that means you are -- you were -- " He stopped, and swallowed.
"Merlinus Ambrosius, son of Ambrosius the High King? Yes."
He stood silent for a long time. I could see him thinking back, remembering, assessing. Not guessing about himself -- he had been too deeply rooted, and for too long, in the person of Ector's bastard foster-son. And, like everyone else in the kingdom, he assumed that the prince was being royally reared in some court beyond the sea.
He spoke at length quietly, but with such a kind of inward force and joy that one wondered how he could contain it. What he said surprised me. "Then the sword was yours. You found it, not I. I was only sent to bring it to you. It is yours. I will get it for you now."
"No, wait, Emrys -- "
But he had already gone. He brought the sword, running, and held it out to me.
"Here. It's yours." He sounded breathless. "I ought to have guessed who you were...Not away in Brittany with the prince, as some people have it, but here, in your own country, waiting till the time came to help the High King. You are the seed of Ambrosius. Only you could have found it, and I found it only because you sent me there. It is for you. Take it."
"No. Not for me. Not for a bastard seed."
"Does that make a difference? Does it?"
"Yes," I said gently.
He was silent. The sword sank to his side and was quenched in his shadow. I mistook his silence, and I remember that at the time I was relieved merely that he said no more.
I got to my feet. "Bring it now into the chapel. We'll leave it there, where it belongs, on the god's altar. Whichever god is sovereign in this place will watch it for us. It must wait here till the time comes for it to be claimed in the sight of men, by the legitimate heir to the kingdom."
"So. That's why you sent me for it? To bring it for him?"
"Yes. In due time it will be his."
A little to my surprise he smiled, apparently satisfied. He nodded calmly. We took the sword together into the chapel. He laid it on the altar, above its carved replica. They were the same. His hand left the hilt, lingeringly, and he stepped back to my side.
"And now," I said, "I have something to tell you. The Duke of Cornwall brought news -- "
I got no further. The sound of hoofs, approaching rapidly through the forest, brought Cabal up, roach-backed and growling. Arthur whipped round. His voice was sharp.
"Listen! Is that Cornwall's troop back again? Something must be wrong...Are you sure they mean you well?"
I put a hand to his arm and he stopped, then, at the look on my face, asked: "What is it, then? Were you expecting this?"
"No. Yes. I hardly know. Wait, Emrys. Yes, this had to come. I thought it must. The day is not over yet."
"What do you mean?"
I shook my head. "Come with me and meet them."
It was not Cornwall's troops that came clattering into the clearing. The Dragon glittered, red on gold. King's men. The officer halted his troop and rode forward. I saw his eye take in the wild clearing, the overgrown shrine, my own plain robes; it touched the boy at my side, no more than a touch,