Camulod Chronicles Book 8 - Clothar the Frank (83 page)

He leaned forward and looked me directly in the eye. "And so had you been there when I arrived, Master Clothar, and had I found the time to meet with you, our meeting would, of necessity, have been a very brief one, with no hope of discussing anything at length or in detail. You would have presented me with your documents from Germanus and I would have accepted them gratefully and set them aside to read later, with the best intentions in the world of doing so. But the matters you were bringing to
my
attention would have had nothing to do with the tumultuous happenings under way at that time, and thus, by definition, they would have been irrelevant in the context of Arthur's coronation. I would have had no other choice than to set them aside in favour of more urgent priorities. Do you take my point?"

I nodded, albeit grudgingly, and wondering what his true meaning might be here. "Yes, I do."

"Excellent, because my point is that Germanus's appearance in your tent that night
was
miraculous, and the sole reason for its occurrence was his need to
remove
you, to send you away from Verulamium before the storm broke and the chaos began to eddy and swirl about the town. Thus, your travels across Britain were quite the opposite of useless or futile. They were intentionally designed to keep you safely away from me until my work with all those other factors was complete and I could give my full attention to these writings you have brought for me. I believe that, Master Clothar. And I believe, too, that Germanus came to you the night he died and that his visit was a miracle tailored, perhaps for the only time in his exemplary life, to his own requirements and his personal priorities. He wanted you to keep this wallet and its contents away from me until now, when I can deal with whatever they contain and might require of me."

I sat gaping at him, unable to speak either to agree or disagree with anything he had said, and all he did was smile, watching the varying expressions as they crossed my face. Finally I coughed to clear my throat, and found my voice.

"That would make these documents extremely important."

"Extremely so, I agree. Germanus never was a waster of people's time."

"But what could be in them? What do they—?" I stopped short, abashed by the awareness that the answer to those questions was not for me to demand. The documents were for Merlyn's eyes only.

He did not react to my impertinence, however, but merely held the wallet now in both hands and raised it up in front of him, gazing at it. "I have glanced very briefly at some of them, Master Clothar, as you are aware, but I must confess I am eager to learn more. So, if you will pardon me, I will go now and make a start upon the task of reading them, for I think it might take me several hours to read through everything and absorb the meaning of it." He stood up and started to bid me farewell with a nod of his head, but I stayed him with my own upraised hand.

He eyed me courteously, one brow slightly raised as he waited to hear whatever it was that I had to add, but although my lips were parted, nothing emerged from my mouth, for I answered each point in my own mind even before I could begin to articulate it, until eventually I felt my cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

"Forgive me, Lord Merlyn," I said then. "I have half a hundred questions in my head, all of them demanding answers, but there are several that I find particularly distracting and frustrating."

"And to those you would prefer more immediate and satisfying answers. I can understand that, knowing how long you have been in pursuit of me." He eased himself back into his chair. 'Tell me about these other considerations, then, and let me see what I can do to set you at your ease."

I remained silent, nonplussed, searching for the correct response to his invitation and failing to find it. What
was
I concerned about? And then suddenly, two things crystallized in my mind and I knew where I must go in this. I cleared my throat again.

"I would like to speak to you, if I may, about your ward, Arthur, the new King. For two years now I have been looking forward to meeting him, anticipating the event of his coronation as Riothamus and savoring the opportunity to offer him my services and my support in his endeavors as High King. I have even persuaded my friends Perceval and Tristan to join me. So I was deeply angered to discover that, through no fault of my own, not only had I missed his crowning in Verulamium but I had also managed to be absent for the first important battle he fought as King—his first strike against the invading Danes led by Horsa, and in all probability a battle that could define the course of his reign.

'I know it was an important battle—how could I not know? It is the talk of the land. Everyone has been talking of little else since it took place. Believe me, Master Merlyn, we have heard about it from many people, but none of those from whom we heard of it was actually present at the event—not one of them. None of them saw the fight, none of them knew the truth of what occurred, and the information they passed on to us when the tidings were fresh and new was already polluted by ignorance and the boastful claims of empty-headed loudmouths." I drew a deep breath, forcing down the anger that was always so close to welling up in me nowadays and compelling myself to remain calm, at least in my speaking.

"We heard reports of everything that went on ahead of us as we crossed from Cambria to here, Master Merlyn, and we could trust none of it to be free of distortion or bias. On the purely personal level, all I really know to be true is that great events have been unfolding far from my ken and that, despite a deep belief that Bishop Germanus sent me here precisely to be involved in these events and to stand with Arthur the King and his people, I have somehow managed to miss all of them—to the point of utter and unhappy ignorance."

As I spoke, intensely aware of my own frustration yet unable to control a burgeoning sense of unwonted anger, Merlyn had turned his head towards the fire basket, and when I had finished, he sat silent for a while longer, his lips pouted in thought.

"It is easy to see why you are angry," he said at length. "On the matter of the King's coronation, there is little I can do to ease your disappointment. I know there are stories circulating concerning what went on at the high altar, and I know, too, that they seem incredible and undeserving of belief. But I can offer you a few hard facts that are indisputable, despite their appearance of being fantastical. Mere moments after the King's corona had been set upon his brow at the high altar by Bishop Enos, and after swearing a mighty regal oath to use his armed might to defend God's Church against all pagan and godless aggression, Arthur Pendragon drew a magnificent long-bladed sword from the altar itself—from the altar stone—in full view of thousands of people. I have seen the sword, and held it in my hands, and there has never been a weapon of such beauty and splendor ever seen before, in this land or any other. That is the truth, Master Clothar. These events occurred. I was there and saw them take place with my own eyes. And as the new King held this wondrous sword aloft for all to see, a beam of purest sunlight shone through a gap in the clouds above and outlined him in golden glory in an unmistakable demonstration of God's own approval of his crowning and his sacred oath.

"Those events you missed and their like will never occur again, and I regret deeply that, after all the troubles you have gone through, you were unable to witness them. I can assure you; however, that you may trust my version of what occurred that day, and you may also be assured that Arthur will be happy to accept your sword, your service and your loyalty when the two of you eventually stand face to face. Lose no sleep over that one, Master Clothar. Arthur Pendragon has a mighty task ahead of him and he will require, and be grateful for, all the assistance, loyalty and support he can find.

"As to the other matter, the King's first battle, I can provide you with accurate information on what happened there. I have in my possession not only the reports of the battle but the plan of battle from the King himself, drawn by his own hand, and I will gladly share those with you at another time—perhaps even tomorrow, if Arthur does not return in the interim."

This was the first indication I had received since my arrival that the King was not even in Camulod, and I asked Merlyn where he had gone.

"He is on circuit patrol. Traveling around the perimeter of the colony, checking each guard outpost and patrol garrison, then striking outward to visit our outlying garrisons in surrounding towns and communities."

"The King does that in person?"

"Aye, and happily, of his own choosing. It enables him to meet and speak with his men as men, and he enjoys that."

"Commander to trooper, you mean, rather than king to subject."

"No, man to man, rather than superior to minion. It is important to him."

"Important to' his men, too, I'll wager." I was remembering Chulderic's story of how King Ban and my father had met Germanus. "How long might he be gone?"

Merlyn shrugged. "Who can say? It all depends upon who and what he encounters on his patrol, but we generally allocate ten days for each sweep—that's what we call our routine patrols—then add sufficient discretionary time for them to extend that by two days. After that, if we have not received word from them, we send out rescue squadrons."

"Have you ever had a patrol that failed to return?"

"Aye, several, but very few overall, in a sixty-year period."

"So you are not concerned about the King's absence?"

"Concerned?" Merlyn laughed. "No, not at all. He is not
absent,
Master Clothar, he is on a sweep, of his own lands, and he has only been gone for ten days. We expect him to return at any moment— he could be entering the gateway as we speak—but even if he fails to appear today, he yet has two days before we will begin to grow concerned. And even then, we would need evidence of some kind to arouse our suspicions to the point of sending out a rescue mission. This is not some junior subaltern or local kinglet, Master Clothar. Arthur Pendragon is Riothamus of Britain and a battle commander of supreme abilities. He will not be bullied, nor will he be easily dissuaded from completing whatever tasks he sets himself before returning home to Camulod."

I nodded. "Yes, I understand what you are saying. I look forward to meeting him."

"Good. You will, and very soon, I promise you. And now, if there is nothing else—"

"There is one more thing, if you will permit me?"

He hunched his shoulders expressively, his face indicating surprise but with a willingness to listen, and I felt myself flushing scarlet as the words that had been in my head began to drain rapidly downwards, avoiding my lips. Merlyn sat waiting.

"Well," I continued, floundering. "I know not if I can find the proper words . . . but I think it is important that I try to say what I wish to say, if only to clear the air and allow myself to think logically." I took a breath and thrust straight ahead. "May I ask you, Master Merlyn, whether Bishop Germanus mentioned me by name in the letter I brought to you?"

Merlyn slowly raised his hand and scratched delicately and deliberately at his chin with the nail of his little finger. "Yes, he did. But why would you ask me that? The content of that letter is my concern alone."

"It is, sir, I know. But I must ask you to be patient with me and extend me your forbearance, if you will, no matter how ill mannered or clumsy I may appear to be in this . . . I have been asking myself for some time now why Bishop Germanus chose to involve
me
in these affairs when he could very easily have sent one of his own priests to deliver letters for him. He had no shortage of young priests at his disposal and they cross the seas on God's business all the time, so why would he pick
me
and send me off to a foreign land with no idea of what I must do once I have carried out my task for him? He had a purpose in mind for me, of that I am sure, but he told me nothing of what it might be. And now you tell me he is dead and that confounds me, for I know not what to do now, or where I should go. My mentor is dead. My task, as far as I know, is completed. And I have no clear indication, mental or otherwise, of what I should do next. I feel. . . abandoned, I suppose . . . cut off from all certainty.

"I have an unfinished task in Gaul, where the man who slew my parents and my grandfather yet rules in a kingdom that is rightfully mine, but although I intend to return there someday and claim his head in vengeance, I feel no burning urge to rush off and do it now. Part of me wishes to believe that my place is here, at this time, and yet I have no sense of . . . place—no sense of what awaits me or of what I should be doing next. I will meet the King soon, and that particular question may be resolved, but still I know nothing of what Germanus planned for me, if he planned anything. And so I must ask you more, and beg your understanding and indulgence. Did the bishop speak of me specifically? And if so, pray, what did he say?"

Merlyn grimaced, sucking breath between his teeth, then shook his head and blew out a great breath. "Damnation, Master Clothar," he said, "you come upon me with this request at the worst time, because while I can answer you truthfully, I cannot tell you what you want to know.

"I have told you that he named you in his letter to me. But he has also enjoined me to be careful in what I say, to you or about you, until I have read everything that he has sent me. Don't ask me why, boy, because I simply do not know why, and I will not until I have had time to read all this."

"He told you to tell me nothing of what he has to say of me?"

"He told me to say nothing until I have learned everything there is to learn about you."

"But what is there to learn that you do not already know?" I bit down on my anger yet again. "No, Master Merlyn. That makes no sense at all, because it makes too much of me, and for no adequate reason. Bishop Germanus was my mentor, but he was mentor to many others, too, all of them more worthy of his time and attention than I was. His interest in me, from the outset, was an obligation. He had been a close friend of my parents and my foster parents, too, and he had stood as godfather for me at my baptism, after the death of my parents and long before he became a bishop. So when I grew old enough, he took me into his school as a pupil. My father was a king, and he served in the legions with Germanus. But he is a dead king, almost seventeen years in his grave. He was murdered soon after I was born, and his lands usurped by his murderer, and in order to protect me and guard my identity after my father's death, I was raised in secrecy by my uncle Ban, King of Benwick, in southern Gaul. That is my life, in its entirety. There is no more to learn."