The Last Enchantment - Mary Stewart [108]
Like the first breath of living wind to the sailor becalmed and starving, I felt hope stir. It was, then, not enough to accept, to wait on the god's return in all his light and strength. In the dark ebbtide, as much as in the flow, could be felt the full power of the sea.
I bowed my head, like a man accepting a king's gift. There was no need to speak. We read one another's minds. He said, with an abrupt change of tone: "How long before this place is complete?"
"In full fighting order, another month. It is virtually ready now."
"So I judged. I can transfer now from Caerleon, foot, horse, and baggage?"
"Whenever you please."
"And then? What have you planned for yourself, until you are needed again to build for peace?"
"I've made no plans. Go home, perhaps."
"No. Stay here."
It sounded like an order. I raised my brows.
"Merlin, I mean it. I want you here. We need not split the High King's power in two before the time comes when we must. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"Then stay. Make a place for yourself here, and stay away from your marvellous Welsh cave for a while longer."
"For a while longer," I promised him, smiling. "But not here, Arthur. I need silence and solitude, things hard to come by within reach of such a city as this will become, once you are here as High King. May I look for a place, and build a house? By the time you are ready to hang your sword up on the wall over your chair of state, my marvellous cave will be here, nearby, and the hermit installed, ready to join your counsels. If, by that time, you remember to need him."
He laughed at that, and seemed content, and we went to our beds.
9
Next day Arthur and his Companions rode back to Ynys Witrin, and I went with them. We were going by invitation of King Melwas and his mother, the queen, to attend a ceremony of thanks for the King's recent victories.
Now, although there was a Christian church on Ynys Witrin, and a monastic settlement on the hill near the holy well, the ruling deity of that ancient island was still the Goddess herself, the Mother whose shrine has been there time out of mind, and who is served still by her priestesses, the ancillae. It is a cult similar to, but I believe older than, the keeping of the Vestal fire of old Rome. King Melwas, along with most of his people, was a follower of the older gods; and -- which was more important -- his mother, a formidable old woman, worshipped the Goddess, and had been generous to her priestesses. The present Lady of the shrine (the high priestess, as representing the Goddess, took this title) was related to her.
Though Arthur himself had been brought up in a Christian household, I was not surprised when he accepted Melwas' invitation. But there were those who were. As we assembled near the King's Gate, ready for the ride, I caught one or two looks thrown at him by his Companions, with, here and there, a hint of uneasiness.
Arthur caught my eye -- we were waiting while Bedwyr had some word with the guard at the gate -- and grinned. He spoke softly. "Do I have to explain to you?"
"By no means. You have bethought yourself that Melwas is to be your near neighbour, and has helped you considerably in the building here. You also see the wisdom of pleasing the old queen. And naturally you are remembering Dewdrop and Blackberry, and what you were told about placating the Goddess."
"Dewdrop and -- ? Oh, the old man's cows! Yes, of course! I might have known you would get straight to it! As a matter of fact I had a message from the Lady herself. The folk of the island