Bernard Cornwell - The Winter King

It was Merlin, who could change like no other man. He loved to pretend, to confuse and to deceive. He could be abrupt, mischievous, patient or lordly, but this day he had chosen to appear in stark, cold majesty. There was no smile on his dark face, no hint of joy in his deep eyes, just a look of such arrogant authority that the men closest to him instinctively sank to their knees and even King Gorfyddyd, who a moment before had been ready to thrust the sword into my neck, lowered the blade. “You speak for this man, Lord Merlin?” Gorfyddyd asked.

“Are you deaf, Gorfyddyd?” Merlin snapped. “Derfel Cadarn shall live. He shall be your honoured guest. He shall eat of your food and drink of your wine. He shall sleep in your beds and take your slave women if he desires. Derfel Cadarn and Galahad of Benoic are under my protection.” He turned to stare at the whole hall, daring any man to oppose him. “Derfel Cadarn and Galahad of Benoic are under my protection!” he repeated, and this time he raised his black staff and you could feel the warriors quake beneath its threat. “Without Derfel Cadarn and Galahad of Benoic,” Merlin said, 'there would be no Knowledge of Britain. I would be dead in Benoic and you would all be doomed to slavery under Saxon rule.“ He turned back to Gorfyddyd. ”They need food. And stop staring at me, Derfel," he added without even looking at me.

I had been staring at him, as much with astonishment as with relief, but I was also wondering just what Merlin was doing in this citadel of the enemy. Druids, of course, were free to travel where they liked, even in enemy territory, but his presence at Caer Sws at such a time seemed strange and even dangerous, for though Gorfyd-dyd's men were cowed by the Druid's presence they were also resentful of his interference and some, safe at the hall's rear, growled that he should mind his own business. Merlin turned on them. “My business,” he said in a low voice that nevertheless stopped the small protest dead, 'is the care of your souls and if I care to drown those souls in misery then you will wish your mothers had never given birth. Fools!“ This last word was snapped loudly and accompanied by a gesture from the staff that made the armoured men struggle down to their knees. None of the kings dared to intervene as Merlin swept the staff to give one of the skulls hanging from a pillar a sharp crack. ”You pray for victory!“ Merlin said. ”But over what? Over your kin and not your enemies! Your enemies are Saxons. For years we suffered under Roman rule, but at last the Gods saw fit to take the Roman vermin away and what do we do? We fight among ourselves and let a new enemy take our land, rape our women and harvest our corn. So fight your war, fools, fight it and win, and still you shall not have victory."

“But my daughter will be avenged,” Gorfyddyd said behind Merlin.

“Your daughter, Gorfyddyd,” Merlin said, turning, 'will avenge her own hurt. You want to know her fate?“ He asked the question mockingly, but answered it soberly and in a voice that had the lilt of a prophetic utterance. ”She will never be high and she will never be low, but she will be happy. Her soul, Gorfyddyd, is blessed, and if you had the sense of a flea you would be content with that."

“I shall be content with Arthur's skull,” Gorfyddyd said defiantly.

“Then go and fetch it,” Merlin said scornfully, then plucked me by the elbow. “Come, Derfel, and enjoy your enemy's hospitality.”

He led us out of the hall, walking unconcernedly through the iron and leather ranks of the enemy. The warriors watched us resentfully, but there was nothing they could do to stop us leaving nor to prevent us taking one of Gorfyddyd's guest chambers that Merlin had evidently been using himself. “So Tewdric wants peace, does he?” he asked us.

“Yes, Lord,” I answered.

“Tewdric would. He's a Christian so he thinks he knows better than the Gods.”

“And you know the minds of the Gods, Lord?” Galahad asked.

“I believe the Gods hate to be bored, so I do my best to amuse them. That way they smile on me. Your God,” Merlin said sourly, 'despises amusement, demanding grovelling worship instead. He must be a very sorry creature. He's probably rather like Gorfyddyd, endlessly suspicious and foully jealous of his reputation. Aren't you both lucky that I was here?" He grinned at us, suddenly and mischievously, and I saw how much he had enjoyed his public humiliation of Gorfyddyd. Part of Merlin's reputation was made by his performances; some Druids, like lorweth, worked quietly, others, like Tanaburs, relied on a sinister wiliness, but Merlin liked to dominate and dazzle, and humbling an ambitious king was as pleasurable to him as it was instinctive.

“Is Ceinwyn really blessed?” I asked him.

He looked astonished at the unexpected question. “Why should it matter to you? But she's a pretty girl, and I confess that pretty girls are a weakness of mine so I shall weave her a charm of bliss. I did the same for you once, Derfel, though not because you are pretty.” He laughed, then glanced through the window to judge the length of the sun's shadows. “I must be on my way soon.”

“What brought you here, Lord?” Galahad asked.

“I needed to talk to lorweth,” Merlin said, looking around to make sure that he had collected all his belongings. “He might be a bumbling idiot, but he does possess the odd scrap of knowledge I might have momentarily forgotten. He proved knowledgeable about the Ring of Eluned. I have it somewhere.” He patted the pockets sewn into the lining of his robe. “Well, I did have it,” he said carelessly, though I suspected the indifference was merely a pretence.

“What is the Ring of Eluned?” Galahad asked.

Merlin scowled at my friend's ignorance, then decided to indulge it. “The Ring of Eluned,” he announced grandly, 'is one of the Thirteen Treasures of Britain. We've always known about the Treasures, of course at least, those of us who recognize the true Gods,“ he added pointedly, glancing at Galahad, 'but none of us were sure what their real power was.”

“And the scroll told you?” I asked.

Merlin smiled wolfishly. His long white hair was neatly bound in black ribbon at the back of his neck while his beard was plaited in tight pigtails. “The scroll,” he said, 'confirmed everything I either suspected or knew, and it even suggested one or two new scraps of knowledge. Ah, here it is." He had been searching his pockets for the Ring which he now produced. To me the treasure looked like any ordinary warrior's ring made of iron, but Merlin held it in his palm as though it was the greatest jewel of Britain.

“The Ring of Eluned,” Merlin said, 'forged in the Otherworld at the beginning of time. Piece of metal really, nothing special.“ He tossed it to me and I made a hasty catch. ”By itself,“ Merlin said, 'the Ring has no power. None of the Treasures has power by themselves. The Mantle of Invisibility won't make you invisible, any more than the Horn of Bran Galed sounds any better than any other hunting horn. By the way, Derfel, did you fetch Nimue?”

“Yes.”

“Well done. I thought you would. Interesting place, the Isle of the Dead, don't you think? I go there when I need some stimulating company. Where was I? Oh, yes, the Treasures. Worthless rubbish, really. You wouldn't give the Coat of Padarn to a beggar, not if you were kind, yet it's still one of the Treasures.”

“Then what use are they?” Galahad asked. He had taken the Ring from me, but now handed it back to the Druid.

“They command the Gods, of course,” Merlin snapped, as though the answer should have been obvious.

“By themselves they're tawdry nothings, but put them all together and you can have the Gods hopping like frogs. It isn't enough just to gather the Treasures, of course,” he added hastily, 'there are one or two other rituals that are needed. And who knows if it will all work? No one has ever tried, so far as I know. Is Nimue well?" he asked me earnestly.