Baf 66 merlins ring, p.8
BAF 66 - Merlin's Ring, page 8
part #66 of Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series
The Viking fleet was very close. Then“ horns echoed against the mountains by the time the Culdee squadron was hull down upon the horizon. Gwalchmai could no longer see them.
“I promised my father that I would return with a great army and a noble array of Roman sail to take and hold Alata,” he said, in self-contempt. “I cannot yet go home and what have I sent?”
“Two hundred and seventy-nine of the Children of God!” said Flann.
5
‘The Spae-wife
There was debate as to the direction in which they should travel. Gwalchmai, who was commissioned to seek out the Emperor of Rome to deliver the message from his father, and who must now do so verbally, wished to reach Rome in the quickest and most direct way. He hoped to avoid hindrance or trouble on his journey.
He would have preferred to travel by land rather than risk further danger by sea.
Flann, on the other hand, liked well his new freedom and although he had little expectation of convincing the others, Erin now tugged at his heartstrings. There he could forget Thyra and her,unpredictable moods. He had little doubt that she would cling, in the future, to this fascinating and glamorous stranger. She had rescued him and in some - strange way she belonged to him.
Flann was resigned to the thought, but very unhappy. He wanted to go home and the shortest way was by sea.
Thyra also voted for a voyage, but to the Faroes, her birthplace. To her mind, when not influenced by Core-nice, the islands were her native land. Norway she feared, for there was still fighting going on. Because of her father’s family ties in high places, she must inevitably be forced to choose sides in. the quarrel between the jarls and the King. Either way she would be forced into a marriage for political purposes and her mind had been made up since the death of Biarki. But of that, she kept her own counsel.
Corenice was the only one who did not need to make a decision. Her point of view was very simple. Wherever Gwalchmai went, she would go.
To settle the question, Gwalchmai, as the one chiefly concerned, must decide.
While thinking, they had been running south on a long tack. The Viking fleet was out of sight and presumably had landed, but if they were to come about and make for the Norwegian coast they might meet laggards and perhaps be captured. Possibly it would be better to set a course for the Faroes and tarry there until sure that the seas were safe.
He turned the ring absently on his finger. He studied it, considering the course. The stone, a magnificent fire-opal, the size of a hazelnut, was cut cabochon and the convex surface caught the sun, flashing rays of red and green into his eyes.
This bezel, for it was engraved intaglio with Merlin Ambrosius’ monogram, had an M and A intertwined so that the bar of the A formed a Christian cross, with the central V of the M. It was held in the thick gold hoop by a surrounding ring marked by the Druidic mistletoe and sickle.
He knew that the jewel could be used as a speculum and although he had never tried to foresee the future or had need to determine a course of action in that manner, he knew the principle of scrying and it was obvious he could obtain help in no other way. Had he known that the stone had been mined in the Faroes, the thought might have deterred him. Perhaps it too might like to go home! So indeed it seemed to prove.
Bidding all to silence, he concentrated his vision and “his thoughts upon the gleaming opal. There was nothing to distract him but the wind in the rigging and the slap of waves against the sides of the boat
The sounds grew fainter. The outside world receded from him. The bright colors of the stone became dim. A milky cloud swept over it.
The cloud eddied and swirled in the depths of the opal. It was a thickening fog—it took on shape as it hardened into form. It was a face, looking up at him as from a deep well, but it was not his own reflection. Merlin’s face, as he remembered it as a little boy!
The bearded lips parted, smiling, and he heard a voice infinitely far and as tiny as the hum of a midge say: “Go to the Spae-wife at Brendansvik and you will be told what to do.”
Then a piece of driftwood struck the side of the boat with a sullen thump. The sound interrupted his trance-like reverie. The face disappeared into cloud and the cloud became a tenuous wisp and vanished. He was back in the world again and the stone gleamed only red and green.
It seemed to him that he had been gone a long rime, but he knew his experience had lasted the space of but a few breaths.
His thought came to Corenice, who communed with Thyra without words. “Yes, there ”was a harbor near Strom-sey called Brendansvik, because Brendan, the Navigator, whom the Celts called Saint, was reputed to have touched there upon his first voyage.“
Flann knew nothing of the mental conversation or any decision, but he was disappointed when Gwalchmai spoke to him at the tiller: “Hold your course south, steady as we go until we reach your islands. We must land at your starting place.”
This was the end of hope for Flann. He felt that he was returning only to be a thrall.
With fair winds and under a pleasant summer sky, the knorr made good speed toward the Faroes, but time dragged for the Voyagers.
Flann had t brought along one of the damaged books on the beach and sometimes he read quietly to Gwalchmai and the girl, instructing them in his faith. Much of what he heard was familiar to the Aztlanian, for Merlin, his godfather, had been a Christianized Druid and had possessed books on many subjects, which Ventidius Varro, Gwalchmai’s father, had taught his son to read.
, What she heard was new to Thyra and it fascinated her. At such times Corenice withdrew from her mind, for she loved her Atlantidean goddess, Ahuni-i, the Spirit of the Wave, and would have no other allegiance. So it was that, with a sisterly consideration and delicate courtesy, she slept at that time and Harm’s words fell mainly upon Thyra’s ears alone.
As he read, he did not realize that he was courting Thyra by the selections he chose, but the girl understood the deeper meanings beneath the rolling and majestic phrases and thrilled to the timbre of his voice. She drew nearer to him at such times.
There were other hours when it was Thyra who slept and Corenice spoke with Gwalchmai inaudibly, for since the swan-flight they were spiritually as one.
So, when Flann stood his watch Thyra was with him always, and if he slept, the other two were together. Thus, there was small jealousy on Flann’s part, for there was little he saw to feed jealousy. There was within him only that sad happiness known as love.
A stone tower stood high at Brendansvik and it was supposed to have been erected by Brendan and his fellow monks. It was somewhat in disrepair, but habitable, and in it lived a woman whose name was Fimmilene. She was reputed to be a spae-wife.
There was some mystery about her. People said that she was of noble birth and had fled Norway rather than pay homage to Harald Fairhair. Others believed that she had seen and told too much when she should have kept silent and thus had made powerful enemies who sought her life. There were also those who claimed that she was secretly inclined toward the new faith and was in hiding from Thor’s wrath. In support of this, it was marked that she had no dislike of dwelling in a building that had been lived in by Christian men.
All agreed upon one thing—that she had the gift of seeing and that she saw true. Therefore she was much in demand, both as a soothsayer and a finder of lost articles, and she never lacked for food.
When she went abroad she wore a robe of black wolfskin and polished boots of calf-hide, with dangling tassels that were little human skulls carved from narwhal ivory. She was never seen without, unless her narrow hands were covered by her long gloves of white catskin. Upon these the claws still showed and appeared at times to either be flexed or withdrawn.
Folk wondered if she were a turncoat and ran the woods at night as either wolf or cat. No one ever was curious enough to ask, for one glance from those piercing eyes below her black hood, lined with lambskin, was enough to deter the most inquisitive and people did not like to meet her eyes directly. They were never sure how deeply she could read the secrets they wished to keep hidden when she looked into their eyes.
When the knorr sailed into Brendansvik, the three had already eaten and so needed not pause in seeking out the weird woman. This was well, for what loiterers there,Were at the waterfront were mightily taken with the strangers. Some of these knew Flann and Thyra, although this was not their home port, but none had ever seen such a man as companioned them, who carried an antique short sword and a flint ax for weapons and who was so oddly appareled in brightly beaded leather. Here and there, one would fain have questioned the group upon the missing Skeggi and Biarki, but without pausing the three hurried away and found the stone tower of the spae-wife.
The upper edge of the tower was crumbled and ragged. The roof was still sound, and the stout door was thick and made of new wood. It swung open noiselessly at their approach and they went in.
There was no warder, but it seemed that they were expected. A pleasant contralto voice bade them enter. A short hallway led into a large room comprising the remainder of the lower floor. Polar bear skins served as rugs, and a cresset with flaming knots of Norway pine gave added light to that which a large fireplace flung, for stone walls are sometimes cold and damp, even in summer.
The room was furnished sparely. A refectory table of the old monks stood in the center, flanked by benches. A brown, cracked mammoth’s tusk hung upon the curving wall that faced them and beneath its arch stood a high platform, elevated several feet above the stone floor. Upon this dais was an oaken chair, intricately carven, and in it sat the spae-wife, Fimmilene, gazing into a crystal ball upon a small stand, over which was draped a scarf of dark purple Chinese silk embroidered with dragons in golden thread.
As they entered, a raven with a split tongue cried out, “Here come the ghosts!” and flapped his wings wildly, dancing back and forth upon the perch to which he was fastened with a chain, eyeing them wickedly sidelong as he did so.
The spae-wife did not raise her head, but continued looking into the ball. She said, “Peace, Mimir,” in an absent way as though it mattered little whether he obeyed or not. He fell silent,, watching the strangers in a malicious manner as though he was something more than bird and ever and again chuckling low in his throat.
Fimmilene kept her position for a moment longer, then sighed as though weary and stood up, beckoning them to approach.
She was slim and beautiful and at first they took her to be young. Her clinging silken gown was a smoky crimson and covered with glittering stones that picked up the color of the cloth like a myriad red watching eyes from which the light from the flames was reflected as she moved,-sparkling the walls and ceiling with tiny rainbows.
Then they perceived that such beauty as hers was ageless, for her hair was as white as her catskin gloves and her eyes and smile were old and very knowing. This was not a woman whom it would be easy to deceive. It was perhaps fortunate that they came seeking information, instead of trying to withhold it.
Flann she dismissed casually as being of little importance. Corenice then being dominant, the girl was favored with a sharp glance as of one equal to another, but Gwalchmai she studied intently.
“So here you all are,” she said finally and sat down again, studying them with her chin in her hand and her el-bows upon the stand. “1 have been advised of the coming of you three. The Irishman who perhaps does not believe in magic; the Norse girl who houses magic—of a sort; and the man who has studied magic, but does not know yet how to use it well, or wisely.
“Ask then what you came to ask and leave me, but remember that the answers come from a greater one than I am, or you, Wanderer, who have thus far failed and are doomed to fail again, can ever hope to be.”
Yet, as she spoke, she smiled upon Gwalchmai with good humor, and the smile transformed her face and took some of the sternness out of her words.
“Truly,” she mused, “you are goodly to look upon, as I was told. You must have eaten of those apples- of Hel, which keep the gods young.”
Now, at this, she motioned him to come up and look into the crystal ball, and as he did so, Corenice, who had taken an instant dislike to Fimmilene, went up with him and stood beside him, for she was jealous of this aged woman’s young and ageless beauty.
Flann also stood upon the girl’s other side, although his heart was hammering, lest Thyra should think him more easily‘ daunted than his rival.
The spae-wife chuckled, for she knew what each was thinking.
“Look then, into the ball, in the name of the Great Mother, and think of your question and not of me. Each of you shall see what you came to see, whether or no it may be what you would like to learn.” And as she spoke, she passed her hand above the sphere and in it pictures began to form.
Now it seemed as these began that each was holding the spae-wife by the hand and with her was journeying alone, for the others disappeared from them. Thus the pictures became realities to them and they passed separately into a strange land as her spirit led the way.
There was a place of terrible cold and darkness through which they traveled and there were barriers of fire from which they shrank and cringed, but through these dangers they passed unharmed and came into another world.
Then, to each, it appeared as though many spirits thronged around them, although each saw and spoke with different ones.
Corenice felt herself held in the arms of her father, who had died when Poseidonis sank and Atlantis disappeared. They talked long and it was a happy time, but to her it was as one who listens in a dream and can remember nothing when it was over.
Then came another who greeted her kindly and spoke of things to come and this she did not forget, for she held this knowledge to be a promise. These things she kept in her heart, for they concerned herself and Gwalchmai only and she told no one, not even he at that tune.
Thyra looked into the future also and she did remember, but when she was mistress of her own body again, she looked upon Flahn with an increased shyness and would not tell him what she had seen.
Flann likewise was silent and went away from that place mused and in doubt, but later he came to believe in the spae-wife more than he did that day.
To Gwalchmai came spirits out of the old time. They had ruddy skin and dark eyes; they wore feathers and had painted faces and they passed him by to the thump of a shaman’s drum, but au smiled upon him, for all had loved him long ago. Then came two who were unhappy, for they were his father and mother, who had bid him godspeed upon his mission, which had failed—and although he knew it had been through no fault of his own, he felt their disappointment and was sad. They also passed into the stream of spirits who crowded by and they disappeared from his view.
Lastly to him appeared an aged man in the robes of a mage and he knew that this was Merlin, to whom he must speak, for this face he had seen in the bezel of the ring.
He placed himself in front of Merlin, or so he thought in his vision, and would have tugged his hand loose from the grasp of the spae-wife, so that he might embrace his godfather, but she held it tightly and would not let go.
Gwalchmai said, “I have come where you told me to come. What word have you for me?”
Merlin bent a stern gaze upon him, under heavy brows, and Gwalchmai felt as though he were again a very small child.
“Apprentice, I have work for you to do and in this you must succeed. You shall go to Rome as was planned, but it will avail you nothing to take your message there, concerning Alata. Rome no longer has an Emperor, nor is that city more than a city now. It can send no fleet, nor does it need one.
“Therefore you must seek elsewhere to deliver your message to a ruler with power to accomplish the desire of your father that Alata shall be reached by, and belong to, men who need a refuge.
“As I have an equal interest in this accomplishment, it is my will that this must be a Christian monarch only, nor ^hall any other take and hold this land.
“However, as this deed may take you longer than you will at present believe, there is no immediate haste and I have an errand for y®u to perform as you go upon your way.
You must go to Elveron, the Land of Faery, which the Romans called Mona. Here was the last stand of the Druids, in their defense, and in gratitude Elveron holds Arthur’s sword, Excalibur.
“Sir Bedwyr, Arthur’s trusted knight, left it there when he knew himself close on death, to be guarded by the fay, until the last great battles of the world when Arthur shall rise and will lead the hosts, who possess British blood, against their foes. Then he will need his sword again.
“The little people are planning to leave Elveron for a kindlier planet This beloved Earth will not much longer be a happy place for them to dwell. There will be clanking machines and polluted waters and flaming winds. There will be no sweet clean air for them to breathe in this coming Iron Age, which men are soon to create.
“You must obtain Excalibur from them, carry it to Arthur’s tomb and place it beside him, that he may have it in safety until the day of his need. I think you are magician enough for that, neophyte!
“Now firstly, when you reach Mona, you must seek out the barrow of Getain, who was a Sea-King of that island some while after your sweeting’s time. He was slain in battle against the Fomorians and was brought home and there laid in howe. His tomb is the secret entrance to Elveron.
“Your ring will give you entry, but not without fee. Thor holds the elvish torque which once lay in Fafnir’s bed, and guarding it is sleepless Mimingus, the Satyr of the Wood, whom you must make your friend.
“When you have obtained the torque, it will be the price you pay to enter Elveron, but first you must appease the
Loathly Dogs. Likewise, there are Watchers set ever Arthur’s tomb who may or may not approve of you, but you have read how to protect yourself against them.
“Secondly, you must be on your guard in all your journey-ings against Oduarpa, the Lord of the Dark Face. He is greatly powerful in the world and my most ancient enemy. Long ago, he came to earth, bent upon evil. Men confuse him with Satan and some worship him to their cost, but he is no fallen angel. No!
“I promised my father that I would return with a great army and a noble array of Roman sail to take and hold Alata,” he said, in self-contempt. “I cannot yet go home and what have I sent?”
“Two hundred and seventy-nine of the Children of God!” said Flann.
5
‘The Spae-wife
There was debate as to the direction in which they should travel. Gwalchmai, who was commissioned to seek out the Emperor of Rome to deliver the message from his father, and who must now do so verbally, wished to reach Rome in the quickest and most direct way. He hoped to avoid hindrance or trouble on his journey.
He would have preferred to travel by land rather than risk further danger by sea.
Flann, on the other hand, liked well his new freedom and although he had little expectation of convincing the others, Erin now tugged at his heartstrings. There he could forget Thyra and her,unpredictable moods. He had little doubt that she would cling, in the future, to this fascinating and glamorous stranger. She had rescued him and in some - strange way she belonged to him.
Flann was resigned to the thought, but very unhappy. He wanted to go home and the shortest way was by sea.
Thyra also voted for a voyage, but to the Faroes, her birthplace. To her mind, when not influenced by Core-nice, the islands were her native land. Norway she feared, for there was still fighting going on. Because of her father’s family ties in high places, she must inevitably be forced to choose sides in. the quarrel between the jarls and the King. Either way she would be forced into a marriage for political purposes and her mind had been made up since the death of Biarki. But of that, she kept her own counsel.
Corenice was the only one who did not need to make a decision. Her point of view was very simple. Wherever Gwalchmai went, she would go.
To settle the question, Gwalchmai, as the one chiefly concerned, must decide.
While thinking, they had been running south on a long tack. The Viking fleet was out of sight and presumably had landed, but if they were to come about and make for the Norwegian coast they might meet laggards and perhaps be captured. Possibly it would be better to set a course for the Faroes and tarry there until sure that the seas were safe.
He turned the ring absently on his finger. He studied it, considering the course. The stone, a magnificent fire-opal, the size of a hazelnut, was cut cabochon and the convex surface caught the sun, flashing rays of red and green into his eyes.
This bezel, for it was engraved intaglio with Merlin Ambrosius’ monogram, had an M and A intertwined so that the bar of the A formed a Christian cross, with the central V of the M. It was held in the thick gold hoop by a surrounding ring marked by the Druidic mistletoe and sickle.
He knew that the jewel could be used as a speculum and although he had never tried to foresee the future or had need to determine a course of action in that manner, he knew the principle of scrying and it was obvious he could obtain help in no other way. Had he known that the stone had been mined in the Faroes, the thought might have deterred him. Perhaps it too might like to go home! So indeed it seemed to prove.
Bidding all to silence, he concentrated his vision and “his thoughts upon the gleaming opal. There was nothing to distract him but the wind in the rigging and the slap of waves against the sides of the boat
The sounds grew fainter. The outside world receded from him. The bright colors of the stone became dim. A milky cloud swept over it.
The cloud eddied and swirled in the depths of the opal. It was a thickening fog—it took on shape as it hardened into form. It was a face, looking up at him as from a deep well, but it was not his own reflection. Merlin’s face, as he remembered it as a little boy!
The bearded lips parted, smiling, and he heard a voice infinitely far and as tiny as the hum of a midge say: “Go to the Spae-wife at Brendansvik and you will be told what to do.”
Then a piece of driftwood struck the side of the boat with a sullen thump. The sound interrupted his trance-like reverie. The face disappeared into cloud and the cloud became a tenuous wisp and vanished. He was back in the world again and the stone gleamed only red and green.
It seemed to him that he had been gone a long rime, but he knew his experience had lasted the space of but a few breaths.
His thought came to Corenice, who communed with Thyra without words. “Yes, there ”was a harbor near Strom-sey called Brendansvik, because Brendan, the Navigator, whom the Celts called Saint, was reputed to have touched there upon his first voyage.“
Flann knew nothing of the mental conversation or any decision, but he was disappointed when Gwalchmai spoke to him at the tiller: “Hold your course south, steady as we go until we reach your islands. We must land at your starting place.”
This was the end of hope for Flann. He felt that he was returning only to be a thrall.
With fair winds and under a pleasant summer sky, the knorr made good speed toward the Faroes, but time dragged for the Voyagers.
Flann had t brought along one of the damaged books on the beach and sometimes he read quietly to Gwalchmai and the girl, instructing them in his faith. Much of what he heard was familiar to the Aztlanian, for Merlin, his godfather, had been a Christianized Druid and had possessed books on many subjects, which Ventidius Varro, Gwalchmai’s father, had taught his son to read.
, What she heard was new to Thyra and it fascinated her. At such times Corenice withdrew from her mind, for she loved her Atlantidean goddess, Ahuni-i, the Spirit of the Wave, and would have no other allegiance. So it was that, with a sisterly consideration and delicate courtesy, she slept at that time and Harm’s words fell mainly upon Thyra’s ears alone.
As he read, he did not realize that he was courting Thyra by the selections he chose, but the girl understood the deeper meanings beneath the rolling and majestic phrases and thrilled to the timbre of his voice. She drew nearer to him at such times.
There were other hours when it was Thyra who slept and Corenice spoke with Gwalchmai inaudibly, for since the swan-flight they were spiritually as one.
So, when Flann stood his watch Thyra was with him always, and if he slept, the other two were together. Thus, there was small jealousy on Flann’s part, for there was little he saw to feed jealousy. There was within him only that sad happiness known as love.
A stone tower stood high at Brendansvik and it was supposed to have been erected by Brendan and his fellow monks. It was somewhat in disrepair, but habitable, and in it lived a woman whose name was Fimmilene. She was reputed to be a spae-wife.
There was some mystery about her. People said that she was of noble birth and had fled Norway rather than pay homage to Harald Fairhair. Others believed that she had seen and told too much when she should have kept silent and thus had made powerful enemies who sought her life. There were also those who claimed that she was secretly inclined toward the new faith and was in hiding from Thor’s wrath. In support of this, it was marked that she had no dislike of dwelling in a building that had been lived in by Christian men.
All agreed upon one thing—that she had the gift of seeing and that she saw true. Therefore she was much in demand, both as a soothsayer and a finder of lost articles, and she never lacked for food.
When she went abroad she wore a robe of black wolfskin and polished boots of calf-hide, with dangling tassels that were little human skulls carved from narwhal ivory. She was never seen without, unless her narrow hands were covered by her long gloves of white catskin. Upon these the claws still showed and appeared at times to either be flexed or withdrawn.
Folk wondered if she were a turncoat and ran the woods at night as either wolf or cat. No one ever was curious enough to ask, for one glance from those piercing eyes below her black hood, lined with lambskin, was enough to deter the most inquisitive and people did not like to meet her eyes directly. They were never sure how deeply she could read the secrets they wished to keep hidden when she looked into their eyes.
When the knorr sailed into Brendansvik, the three had already eaten and so needed not pause in seeking out the weird woman. This was well, for what loiterers there,Were at the waterfront were mightily taken with the strangers. Some of these knew Flann and Thyra, although this was not their home port, but none had ever seen such a man as companioned them, who carried an antique short sword and a flint ax for weapons and who was so oddly appareled in brightly beaded leather. Here and there, one would fain have questioned the group upon the missing Skeggi and Biarki, but without pausing the three hurried away and found the stone tower of the spae-wife.
The upper edge of the tower was crumbled and ragged. The roof was still sound, and the stout door was thick and made of new wood. It swung open noiselessly at their approach and they went in.
There was no warder, but it seemed that they were expected. A pleasant contralto voice bade them enter. A short hallway led into a large room comprising the remainder of the lower floor. Polar bear skins served as rugs, and a cresset with flaming knots of Norway pine gave added light to that which a large fireplace flung, for stone walls are sometimes cold and damp, even in summer.
The room was furnished sparely. A refectory table of the old monks stood in the center, flanked by benches. A brown, cracked mammoth’s tusk hung upon the curving wall that faced them and beneath its arch stood a high platform, elevated several feet above the stone floor. Upon this dais was an oaken chair, intricately carven, and in it sat the spae-wife, Fimmilene, gazing into a crystal ball upon a small stand, over which was draped a scarf of dark purple Chinese silk embroidered with dragons in golden thread.
As they entered, a raven with a split tongue cried out, “Here come the ghosts!” and flapped his wings wildly, dancing back and forth upon the perch to which he was fastened with a chain, eyeing them wickedly sidelong as he did so.
The spae-wife did not raise her head, but continued looking into the ball. She said, “Peace, Mimir,” in an absent way as though it mattered little whether he obeyed or not. He fell silent,, watching the strangers in a malicious manner as though he was something more than bird and ever and again chuckling low in his throat.
Fimmilene kept her position for a moment longer, then sighed as though weary and stood up, beckoning them to approach.
She was slim and beautiful and at first they took her to be young. Her clinging silken gown was a smoky crimson and covered with glittering stones that picked up the color of the cloth like a myriad red watching eyes from which the light from the flames was reflected as she moved,-sparkling the walls and ceiling with tiny rainbows.
Then they perceived that such beauty as hers was ageless, for her hair was as white as her catskin gloves and her eyes and smile were old and very knowing. This was not a woman whom it would be easy to deceive. It was perhaps fortunate that they came seeking information, instead of trying to withhold it.
Flann she dismissed casually as being of little importance. Corenice then being dominant, the girl was favored with a sharp glance as of one equal to another, but Gwalchmai she studied intently.
“So here you all are,” she said finally and sat down again, studying them with her chin in her hand and her el-bows upon the stand. “1 have been advised of the coming of you three. The Irishman who perhaps does not believe in magic; the Norse girl who houses magic—of a sort; and the man who has studied magic, but does not know yet how to use it well, or wisely.
“Ask then what you came to ask and leave me, but remember that the answers come from a greater one than I am, or you, Wanderer, who have thus far failed and are doomed to fail again, can ever hope to be.”
Yet, as she spoke, she smiled upon Gwalchmai with good humor, and the smile transformed her face and took some of the sternness out of her words.
“Truly,” she mused, “you are goodly to look upon, as I was told. You must have eaten of those apples- of Hel, which keep the gods young.”
Now, at this, she motioned him to come up and look into the crystal ball, and as he did so, Corenice, who had taken an instant dislike to Fimmilene, went up with him and stood beside him, for she was jealous of this aged woman’s young and ageless beauty.
Flann also stood upon the girl’s other side, although his heart was hammering, lest Thyra should think him more easily‘ daunted than his rival.
The spae-wife chuckled, for she knew what each was thinking.
“Look then, into the ball, in the name of the Great Mother, and think of your question and not of me. Each of you shall see what you came to see, whether or no it may be what you would like to learn.” And as she spoke, she passed her hand above the sphere and in it pictures began to form.
Now it seemed as these began that each was holding the spae-wife by the hand and with her was journeying alone, for the others disappeared from them. Thus the pictures became realities to them and they passed separately into a strange land as her spirit led the way.
There was a place of terrible cold and darkness through which they traveled and there were barriers of fire from which they shrank and cringed, but through these dangers they passed unharmed and came into another world.
Then, to each, it appeared as though many spirits thronged around them, although each saw and spoke with different ones.
Corenice felt herself held in the arms of her father, who had died when Poseidonis sank and Atlantis disappeared. They talked long and it was a happy time, but to her it was as one who listens in a dream and can remember nothing when it was over.
Then came another who greeted her kindly and spoke of things to come and this she did not forget, for she held this knowledge to be a promise. These things she kept in her heart, for they concerned herself and Gwalchmai only and she told no one, not even he at that tune.
Thyra looked into the future also and she did remember, but when she was mistress of her own body again, she looked upon Flahn with an increased shyness and would not tell him what she had seen.
Flann likewise was silent and went away from that place mused and in doubt, but later he came to believe in the spae-wife more than he did that day.
To Gwalchmai came spirits out of the old time. They had ruddy skin and dark eyes; they wore feathers and had painted faces and they passed him by to the thump of a shaman’s drum, but au smiled upon him, for all had loved him long ago. Then came two who were unhappy, for they were his father and mother, who had bid him godspeed upon his mission, which had failed—and although he knew it had been through no fault of his own, he felt their disappointment and was sad. They also passed into the stream of spirits who crowded by and they disappeared from his view.
Lastly to him appeared an aged man in the robes of a mage and he knew that this was Merlin, to whom he must speak, for this face he had seen in the bezel of the ring.
He placed himself in front of Merlin, or so he thought in his vision, and would have tugged his hand loose from the grasp of the spae-wife, so that he might embrace his godfather, but she held it tightly and would not let go.
Gwalchmai said, “I have come where you told me to come. What word have you for me?”
Merlin bent a stern gaze upon him, under heavy brows, and Gwalchmai felt as though he were again a very small child.
“Apprentice, I have work for you to do and in this you must succeed. You shall go to Rome as was planned, but it will avail you nothing to take your message there, concerning Alata. Rome no longer has an Emperor, nor is that city more than a city now. It can send no fleet, nor does it need one.
“Therefore you must seek elsewhere to deliver your message to a ruler with power to accomplish the desire of your father that Alata shall be reached by, and belong to, men who need a refuge.
“As I have an equal interest in this accomplishment, it is my will that this must be a Christian monarch only, nor ^hall any other take and hold this land.
“However, as this deed may take you longer than you will at present believe, there is no immediate haste and I have an errand for y®u to perform as you go upon your way.
You must go to Elveron, the Land of Faery, which the Romans called Mona. Here was the last stand of the Druids, in their defense, and in gratitude Elveron holds Arthur’s sword, Excalibur.
“Sir Bedwyr, Arthur’s trusted knight, left it there when he knew himself close on death, to be guarded by the fay, until the last great battles of the world when Arthur shall rise and will lead the hosts, who possess British blood, against their foes. Then he will need his sword again.
“The little people are planning to leave Elveron for a kindlier planet This beloved Earth will not much longer be a happy place for them to dwell. There will be clanking machines and polluted waters and flaming winds. There will be no sweet clean air for them to breathe in this coming Iron Age, which men are soon to create.
“You must obtain Excalibur from them, carry it to Arthur’s tomb and place it beside him, that he may have it in safety until the day of his need. I think you are magician enough for that, neophyte!
“Now firstly, when you reach Mona, you must seek out the barrow of Getain, who was a Sea-King of that island some while after your sweeting’s time. He was slain in battle against the Fomorians and was brought home and there laid in howe. His tomb is the secret entrance to Elveron.
“Your ring will give you entry, but not without fee. Thor holds the elvish torque which once lay in Fafnir’s bed, and guarding it is sleepless Mimingus, the Satyr of the Wood, whom you must make your friend.
“When you have obtained the torque, it will be the price you pay to enter Elveron, but first you must appease the
Loathly Dogs. Likewise, there are Watchers set ever Arthur’s tomb who may or may not approve of you, but you have read how to protect yourself against them.
“Secondly, you must be on your guard in all your journey-ings against Oduarpa, the Lord of the Dark Face. He is greatly powerful in the world and my most ancient enemy. Long ago, he came to earth, bent upon evil. Men confuse him with Satan and some worship him to their cost, but he is no fallen angel. No!
