The Last Enchantment - Mary Stewart [125]
It seemed that they were. They came forward, reluctant and over-awed, pushed by their companions. Two men, smallish and broad-shouldered, bearded and unkempt, and with them a stripling boy -- the son, I guessed, of the younger man. I spoke to the elder.
"You come from Mere, in the Summer Country?"
He nodded, his fingers twisting nervously in front of him at a fold of his sodden tunic.
"It was good of you to help the High King's men. You shall not be the losers by it, I promise you. Now, you know who I am?"
Another nod, more twisting of the hands. The boy swallowed audibly.
"Then don't be afraid, but answer my questions if you can. Do you know where King Melwas is now?"
"Not rightly, my lord, no." The man spoke slowly, almost like one using a foreign language. These marsh people are silent folk, and, when about their own business, use a dialect peculiar to themselves. "But you'll not find him at his palace on the Island, that I do know. Seen him away hunting, we did, two days gone. 'Tis a thing he does, now and again, just him and one of the lords, or maybe two."
"Hunting? In these forests?"
"Nay, master, he went fowling. Just himself, and one to row the boat."
"And you saw him go? Which way?"
"Southwest again." The man pointed. "Down there where the causeway runs into the marsh. The land's dry in places thereabouts, and there be wild geese grazing in plenty. There's a lodge he has, a main beyond, but he won't be there now. It's empty since this winter past, and no servants in it. Besides, the news came up the water this dawning that the young King was on his way home from Caer-y-n'a Von with a score of sail, so he would be putting in at the Island, maybe with the next tide. And our King Melwas surely must be there to greet him?"
This was news to me, and, I could see, to Bedwyr. It is a constant mystery how these remote dwellers in the marshes get their news so quickly.
Bedwyr looked at me. "There was no beacon lighted on the Tor when news came about the Queen. Did you see it, Merlin?"
"No. Nor any other. The sails can't have been sighted yet. We should go now, Bedwyr. We'll ride for the Tor."
"You mean to speak with Melwas, even before we seek the Queen?"
"I think so. If you would give the orders? And see these men recompensed for their help?"
In the bustle that followed, I touched Bedwyr's arm and took him aside. "I can't talk now, Bedwyr. This is a high matter, and dangerous. You and I must go alone to seek the Queen. Can you manage this without being questioned?"
He frowned, searching my face, but said immediately: "Of course. But Cei? Will he accept that?"
"He's injured. Besides, if Arthur is due, Cei should be back in Camelot."
"That's true. And the rest can ride for the Island, to wait for the tide. It'll be dark enough soon for us to slip away from them." The day's strain hacked abruptly through his voice. "Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
"I'll explain as we ride. But I want no one else to hear, not even Cei."
A few minutes later we were on our way. I rode between Cei and Bedwyr, with the men clattering behind us. They were talking lightheartedly among themselves, wholly reassured, it seemed, by my word that all was well. I myself, though still knowing only what the dream allowed me, felt curiously light and easy, riding at the urgent pace Bedwyr set through the treacherous ground, without thought or care, not even feeling saddle or bridle-rein. It was not a new feeling, but it was many years since it had come to me; the god's will streaming past, and myself going with it, a spark blown between the lasting stars. I did not know what lay ahead of us in that watery dusk, but only that the Queen and her adventure were but a small part of the night's destiny, shadows already blown aside by this great forward surge of power.
My memory of that ride is all confusion now. Cei's party left us, and shortly afterwards we found boats, and Bedwyr embarked half the party by the short route across the Lake. The rest he divided, some