Jack Whyte - The Saxon Shore

"Not yet. Sir King," I told him, whispering still. "Not yet, but one day, surely, when your own size is greater than your sword's. Then you will grasp it firmly, and relinquish it to no man." The mighty sword still reared between us, but now the child seemed to have eyes only for me, as though he heard and understood my words. "Do not forget this day," I admonished him. "Nor this. Its name is Excalibur. Excalibur. . . Remember it."

Done then, I began to rise to my feet again, only to be confounded by the sound of Shelagh's voice behind me, by the door she had opened noiselessly.

"Merlyn, what are you doing?"

I must have appeared either ludicrous or dangerous, or possibly both, scrambling to my feet and whirling towards her while attempting uselessly to conceal Excalibur behind my back. Her eyes were wide with alarm as she took a step further into the room, one hand reaching out towards the baby on the floor.

"Stop!"

She froze in mid-step, beginning to frown.

"You're not supposed to come in here," I spluttered, hearing the futility in my own voice.

Her brows came together now and her eyes flashed. "And why not? No one told me anything of that. It seemed a room like any other—" She stopped speaking abruptly and glanced quickly around the walls, noting the array of weapons that hung there, and the large books that lay on tables here and there. From there, her eyes went quickly to the child still lying placidly by my feet, then to the sword I held so ineffectually behind my back, its long, silver blade quite evident where it reached beyond my body, and thence to the open case with its leather-lined, sculpted cradle for Excalibur. I knew then, all at once and with despair, that I had forfeited all chance of diverting her from the sword. Had I possessed the presence of mind merely to hold it casually when she appeared, I might have smoothed things over, brazening it out. But my own horror in discovery had betrayed me.

For long moments, neither of us moved nor spoke. Then, apparently satisfied that the child, at least, was safe, Shelagh drew a deep breath and stretched to her full height, turning her back to me and moving away resolutely towards the door. Once there, however, she increased my consternation by closing the half that lay ajar and turning back towards me, laying her shoulders flat against the join of the bronze-covered panels.

"So be it, Merlyn Britannicus," she said, speaking in level, courteous tones. "I should not have come in here. Unfortunately I did, seeking you and the child and knowing no better. . . And now I have seen that weapon you are trying so uselessly to hide behind your back and the case in which it is kept, which evidently causes you great concern and makes you both afraid and angry, although I know not why. What is done is done. I have seen what evidently should not have been seen. So what am I to do? We may regret such things, once done, but we are powerless to change them."

I gusted a great sigh then, I recall, and shook my head, shamefaced, then lowered my eyes to the floor, unable to meet her gaze and allowing Excalibur to come to rest with its point on the floor by my right foot. She waited for me to say something and when I did not, she moved swiftly to stand beside me, placing her hand upon my wrist, above the sword's hilt. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, filled with sympathy.

"The sword is wondrous, Merlyn, and plainly worth more than anything I have ever seen. Is that it? Is that your concern, that having seen it I might talk of it with others? Should I be unaware of its great value?"

"Of its existence," I said, looking at her and watching her eyes narrow in surprise and incomprehension.

"What did you say?"

I sighed again. "I said you should not be aware of its existence. Almost no one else is."

Distractedly, to give herself time for thought, she knelt and picked up the child, straightening immediately and settling him anew across her hip, where he leaned forward and began to nuzzle hungrily at her breast. She pushed his mouth away gently with the back of her fingers and hitched him higher. "There's nothing there for you, young man," was all she said, before squinting up at me.

"What is it that is so remarkable about this thing's existence?"

"It is the only one of its kind in the world."

She pursed her lips, dropping narrowed eyes to where the huge cross-hilt gleamed in front of my fist, and then she reached out with one extended fingertip and placed the ball of her finger gently against the silver of the blade.

"I can see that the guard there is different. That may be unique, as far as I can tell, and the colour of the blade is vastly different. But the blade itself is of a length with your own sword, so there's nothing special there. How then is this so magically rare that it's unmatched in all the world?" She glanced back at me. "Can you tell me? Will you? Wait! Before you answer, let me ask this: Has Donuil seen this sword?"

I shook my head. "No, he has never seen it, but he knows of its existence. That he has never seen it is due merely to circumstance. The opportunity to show it to him has never arisen. Donuil is one of a very special group of living souls who know of it. The others are myself, my brother Ambrose, my great-aunt Luceiia, and now you. There are no more."

Her eyes were wide with wonder. "But why?" she asked. "Why keep it secret? It is no more than a sword!"

I found, quite suddenly, that I could smile again. "Ah, Shelagh, there you are wrong; in grievous error. This is far more than a sword. This is Excalibur, the High King's sword, and that young person in your arms is the High King himself. And now, if you will bear his regal hunger to be satisfied, I shall wait here for your return and tell you the entire tale of Camulod, Excalibur, and the Dream of the Roman Eagles who created both."

She hesitated, tugged by the wish to leave and then return, and by the fear that I might leave while she was gone. "You will wait here?"

I laughed then, feeling immensely better. "Aye, you need have no fear. A modicum of knowledge is greatly dangerous and now, to disarm that danger, I must tell you all there is to know. Only then will you be able to comprehend the secret you must hold from this day forward. Co now, and send someone to light a fire in here against the cold, then come back quickly."

By the time she returned, Excalibur had been safely cached once more, the fire had been kindled and was burning brightly. She had taken time to change her dress and comb out her hair, and I thrilled with guilty pleasure as she crossed the room to sit beside me, close to the leaping flames. We talked then, or rather I spoke and she listened, for a space of hours, and in spite of my familiarity with the tale I told, its power consumed me yet again, so that I soon lost all awareness of her as a woman and spoke only for her ears and mind. So wrought up in my tale were we that we forgot eventually to tend the fire, and by the time I had finished, it had been reduced to glowing embers. As I replenished it, knowing the drying warmth to be beneficial to my uncle's books, Shelagh began to ask me questions, and we talked further, and the time passed quickly. But now that my self-absorbing tale was told, I found myself aware of her again, watching her body's supple sinuosity; seeing and sometimes sensing the motion of breast, belly, buttock and thigh; the flashing, laughing, flaring, breathtaking eyes; the casually tousled curls that hung and swung in such profusion, inviting contact, apparently wishing to be touched, caressed and smoothed. The physical disturbance caused by all of these things was almost overwhelming, and utterly deceptive. I knew implicitly that Shelagh felt no such desire for me. The invitations that my mind supplied were of my mind alone. Finally, almost in desperation, I stood up abruptly, interrupting something she was saying.