Stephen Lawhead - Merlin

'I am thinking that this is my battle. I have run from it long enough.'

'What will you do?'

I shook my head. 'I cannot say. But I will be shown soon enough. And, while I wait, I will make myself ready. I will stay here at Ynys Avallach and I will strengthen myself with prayer and meditation on the Holy Christ.'

Charis hugged me again, and kissed my forehead. 'My Hawk, forgive yourself as you have been forgiven. Your failings are not unique to you alone.'

That was all she said; she left me soon after that. But I felt forgiven. I prayed: 'Great Light, thank you for waking me from my long, selfish sleep. Lead me, my King. I am ready to follow.'

The next day but one Avallach returned from Llyonesse. The news he brought was mixed. Belyn had improved, though would not recover, and did not expect to see Samhain. Nonetheless, he seemed content, and welcomed Avallach's visit. Consequently, the brothers had effected a reconciliation. And Avallach had gleaned what he could from Belyn regarding Morgian.

'There is little enough to tell,' Avallach informed me, 'but that little is disturbing. King Loth is dead, and Morgian has left the Orcades. Where she has gone is not known. Belyn expected her to return to Llyonesse in the spring, but there has been no sign or word from her.'

'Loth dead?' I mused. 'Then there are two thrones that will fall to her.'

Belyn's and Loth's, I was thinking: both would see one of Morgian's offspring made king. Two realms had fallen to the Queen of Air and Darkness – which was what the people of Ynysoedd Erch, the Islands of Fear, had taken to calling Morgian. Two kingdoms – one in the north, one in the south – under her power. But Morgian's influence extended much further than that – as I was soon to discover.

Three days later word came to Ynys Avallach that Uther was dead.

Strange to tell, two years had passed me in the Fisher King's hall. So given to hate and despair was I, that I had noticed nothing of the wider world – the silent turnings of the seasons, the long, slow swing of the Earth through her measured course.

Now Uther was dead.

I pondered this. The Imperial line of Constantine was never ordained to flourish. Each of noble Constantine's sons had been king, and each in his turn had been, like his father, cut down before his time.

Poison, again, it was said: one of Gorlas' loyal stewards who blamed Uther for his master's death and sought to even the blood debt. Many believed this, although there was also vague talk of a mysterious malady; it seemed Uther had suffered a lingering illness through the winter. I gathered my things together and prepared to leave the Tor.

'Farewell, my Hawk!' called Chads as she waved me away. 'We will uphold you in your battle.'

She was right, of course. My battle, so long avoided, was finally beginning.

I sent Pelleas ahead to Londinium and made my way to Tintagel in all haste, hoping I was not too late. But it was not Uther I was concerned with now. I wanted to see Ygerna, and to collect Uther's sword. For word had gone out: the kings of Britain were gathering in Londinium to choose a new High King from among their number. I must be there when this took place.

Ygerna received me gladly. She had borne her loss bravely, but was tired and wanted someone to share her grief. Indeed, Uther was not much mourned; he was not the High King to inspire the love and sympathy of the people. What he had accomplished for Britain – his fierce battles, his brilliant victories – these were already forgotten. The only thing people remembered was that Uther had killed Gorlas to marry Ygerna. That is all they remembered, and that little a lie.

I found the twice-widowed queen standing on the rampart of the wall, gazing out at the sea, her hair streaming in the sea breeze. In the falling light she appeared at once frail and wonderfully strong – fragile as sorrow, potent as love. She turned lightly when I approached, smiled, and held out her hands to me. 'Myrddin, you have come. Welcome, dear friend.'

'I came as soon as I received word, my queen.' I said, taking her hands. Her fingers were cold, although the late afternoon sun was warm on the wall. Then, hesitantly, she stepped nearer and embraced me chastely, brushing my cheek with cool lips. I held her for a long moment, very much aware that she was a young woman who needed the comfort of a reassuring touch.

'Will you sit with me a while?' she asked, stepping back, a queen once more.

'If you wish.' We walked along the wall to a block of grey stone which jutted out from the rampart. She settled herself on it and indicated that I should sit beside her.

'It happened so quickly,' she said abruptly, her voice sad and low. 'He had been out hunting and returned feeling unwell – it had been a bad spring for him so I did not remark upon it. He went to bed and awoke in the night with a fever. He remained in bed the next day which was most unlike him. I saw him twice, but he complained of nothing. I expected him at supper, but when he did not come I went to his room.'

She squeezed my hand tightly. 'Oh, Myrddin, he was sitting in his chair… his flesh was cold, and he was dead… '

'I am sorry, Ygerna.'

She seemed not to hear. 'The odd thing was – he had his shield beside him, and his standard; he wore his leather breastplate. His sword lay across his lap. It was as if he expected to fight an enemy.' The queen lowered her head and sighed. 'I did not speak to him again. I did not tell him I loved him – I wanted so much to tell him, and then it was too late. Myrddin, why does everything always come too late?'

The wash of the sea around the roots of the headland and the cry of the soaring gulls carried an inexpressible sadness to me. I put my arm round Ygerna and we sat together in the sun, listening to the gulls and the waves, feeling the comfort of two hearts grieving.

The sun went behind a cloud and the day turned suddenly cool. 'Where has he been buried?' I asked as we rose and made our way back inside.

She did not answer at once. When she spoke there was triumph in her voice. 'Beside Aurelius.'

Jesu bless her, she had done what she could for Uther's memory. It was right that they should be buried together in any case, but Ygerna wanted their names for ever linked in renown and respect. She had buried the husband she loved next to the one the people loved.

As we came near the hall, she turned to me, and, laying a hand on my arm, said, 'I carry Uther's child.'

'Does anyone know?"

'My serving maid. She is sworn to silence.'

'See that she keeps it.'

Ygerna nodded. She understood. 'Will there be fighting?'

'Possibly. Yes, it is likely.'

'I see,' she said absently; there was something else on her mind I could tell. She was weighing her words carefully. I waited for her to come out with it in her own time.

The sea crashed below us, restless as Ygerna's heart. I could sense her unease. Still, I waited.

'Myrddin,' she said at last, her voice tight. 'Now that Uther is dead… ' Words failed her; she could not make them say what she felt. 'Now that the king is gone, perhaps it would not be… '

'Yes?'

She pressed my hand and gazed earnestly at me – as if I held power to grant or withhold her heart's desire. 'The child – my son. Please, Myrddin, where is he? Is he safe? May I send for him?'

'It cannot be, Ygerna.'

'But surely now – now that Uther… '

I shook my head gently. 'The danger has not diminished; in fact, with Uther's death it has increased. Until you have delivered Uther's child, Aurelius' son remains the only heir.'

Ygerna dropped her head. The babe had been much on her mind and in her heart, as it would with any mother. 'May I go to him?'

'That would not be wise, I fear,' I told her. 'I am sorry. I wish it could be otherwise.'