Alys Clare - The Enchanter's Forest

He tore his enchanted eyes from the bones and caught sight of the faint gleam of some dull, dark metal on the far side of the tomb. Moving around the head end of the pit so as to have a closer look, he saw that it was a plaque, probably made of lead. It was roughly in the shape of an equal-armed cross, pitted and broken at the edges as if it had, in truth, spent six hundred years in the ground. The inscription was in Latin and read Here lies Merlin, magician to King Arthur. Look upon his power and fear him .

Trying desperately to shake himself free of the spell, Josse took a pace — two, three paces — away from the tomb. And abruptly the dread left him.

He stumbled on, following the path as it curved away, concealing the tomb once more. His breath came more easily now and he felt the sweat of fear drying on his back. By the time he reached the huddle of tables, benches and low, rudely fashioned huts where the pilgrims took their refreshments, he was breathing normally again.

Almost.

As he rode thoughtfully back to Hawkenlye Abbey, Josse tried to distract his thoughts from his reaction to the strange power of the bones by attempting to calculate just how much money Florian of Southfrith must be making out of his convincing and seductive new venture. There was the admission fee; he recalled the not inconsiderable sum of two silver half-pennies that had been extracted from him, although it was possible that those pleading extreme poverty might get in for less. How many visitors could there be in a day? Twenty? No, more, surely, for they had been arriving steadily throughout the time span of Josse’s approach, arrival and departure. Forty, then, and that estimate was surely on the low side. Even if every one gave just half a penny, that was twenty pennies. It would take a working man three weeks to make that much.

Then there was the food and drink that was on offer after the pilgrims had visited the tomb. Hot and thirsty after the journey, surely it would have taken either a strong will or an empty purse to resist the mugs of beer and the plates of bread, dried meat and cheese invitingly spread out. Josse had succumbed to temptation; he had been surprised to find the small beer pretty good, although the bread was hard and the meat had what looked like a maggot hole in it. His meal — served up by another of the strong-looking guards — had cost him another half-penny.

Assuming the same forty visitors, of whom perhaps thirty took refreshments, then that was another fifteen pennies. Some people clearly made use of the overnight accommodation; Josse had observed that one of the huts contained a pile of straw palliasses and a heap of blankets. Goodness only knew what the charge was for spending the night in Florian’s hut. And then there would probably be another half a penny for food and drink in the morning; people were reluctant to start a long walk with nothing in their bellies. Perhaps a penny for accommodation and breakfast? If only one family spent the night, that was at least another shilling a week.

Was there anything else? Josse thought it over. Oh, yes — the offerings. There had been a depression in the ground between the tomb and the refreshment tables, at the bottom of which a little spring welled up out of the earth. The stony bed of the spring had, by the time Josse passed by, been already covered with coins and with what had looked like pieces of jewellery and other small metal items such as pins and pocket knives. Doubtless people felt that Merlin would be more likely to answer their prayers if they gave him something and Florian was obviously encouraging them in this belief; Josse himself had been invited to leave his offering, although in fact he had not done so.

There was no way that he could accurately judge just what Florian was making each day. What was absolutely certain, however, was that it was a very great deal.

Keeping that fact at the forefront of his mind and pushing firmly aside the memory of how Merlin’s Tomb had affected him, Josse kicked the cob into a surprisingly sprightly canter and headed for the Abbey and the Abbess.

Helewise looked up from her work to see Josse standing in the open doorway. With a smile of welcome, she indicated the stool that she kept for visitors and invited him to sit down and tell her all about it.

She heard him out in silence, nodding occasionally. When he had finished, she said slowly, ‘Sir Josse, it is far, far worse than I feared, for the crowds whom you describe who queue up so patiently and so optimistically to view the tomb are clearly not to be deterred by reasoned argument. Even if we made a direct appeal — and, believe me, I have been contemplating such a move — I do not think that anyone is at present in a mood to leave the thrilling excitement and promise of the new for the unchanging reliability of Hawkenlye.’

He seemed to be on the point of speaking but appeared to change his mind; probably, she thought grimly, because, although he would like to protest, he knows I speak the truth. She thought for a while, did some mental calculations and then said, ‘If I reckon aright, this Florian of Southfrith must be making roughly twenty shillings a day.’ As the enormity of that sum struck her — why, a chaplain only earned twice that in a year ! — she realised she must have made a mistake. ‘But that cannot be right,’ she added.

But Josse was nodding glumly. ‘No mistake, my lady. That’s what I worked out too. And, believe me, I was cautious in my estimates and so the likelihood is that he’s coining in a great deal more.’

‘He is surely unlikely to go on making so much,’ she said doubtfully. ‘As the proverb has it, a wonder lasts nine days, and then the puppy’s eyes are open.’

‘Hm.’

She had expected a more emphatic endorsement of her remark; had he not sat outside this very room only this morning and claimed firmly that the whole Merlin’s Tomb business was nothing but a hoax? ‘Sir Josse?’ she said enquiringly. ‘Do you not agree that people will soon tire of this new attraction and see it for the money-making scheme that it is?’

He met her eyes. ‘I am not so sure, my lady,’ he admitted.

‘Oh? How so?’

He cast his eyes around the room as if seeking inspiration. Then: ‘I expected to feel nothing or, if anything, disgust and contempt for a clever piece of dupery. Yet when I stood by the tomb looking down at those enormous bones-’ He broke off, shrugged and then said, ‘They give off a force. I felt as if I were in the presence of a great power that I did not understand.’

‘ Josse! Oh, then there is something in all this and it is not just a fraud!’ She put her hand to her mouth, horrified by his admission. If he of all people had been so affected, then what of the more credulous? Oh, dear Lord, they would go from Merlin’s Tomb straight home to their towns, villages, hamlets and hovels, tell their family, friends and neighbours how wonderful it had been and in no time all those whom they told would be setting out too. The present steady stream of people would become a river, a torrent, a full-moon tide , and nobody would ever come near Hawkenlye again. .

With some effort, she made herself stop.

But Josse, dear Josse, must have seen the terrible vision that she saw. ‘My lady, do not despair,’ he said softly.

She managed a small smile. ‘I see very little reason not to.’

He had stood up and was pacing to and fro across her small room. His restless presence, as always, made it seem even smaller. ‘Florian of Southfrith must be made to stop,’ he announced.

‘But why?’ she demanded. ‘If there is a power in these bones, and if it is benign’ — she suddenly appreciated that this was quite a big if — ‘then what right have we to come between the people and a source of succour? Times continue to be hard, Sir Josse. It is but two years since everyone in the land had to give far more than they could afford in order to buy back our King. Yet what have they in exchange for their enforced generosity? King Richard stayed in England less than two months and then set off campaigning again and we have seen neither hide nor hair of him since. Purchasing the King’s freedom has cost the people dear and it will, I fear, take them a very long time to regain any sort of security. Some will never achieve it and will live in wretched poverty and miserable uncertainty until they die.’ She heard her voice rise with passion and took a moment to regain her composure. Then she said quietly, ‘If they find comfort and help in this Merlin’s Tomb, then should we try to stop it?’