'How strange,' I said. 'It is as if they expected to leave, but did not know when. See?' I swept the near-empty dwelling with my open hand. 'There are no weapons or clothing, no treasure or objects of value left behind. Yet there are no signs of destruction or pillage – I do not think they were attacked.'
'Yet they were attacked,' replied Merlin, his eyes narrowed as he gazed around the interior of what surely must have been the lord's chambers. A candle tree stood by the bedplace, the tapers wasted into lumps of hardened wax on the dusty floor. 'But not by Saecsens or any of their kind.'
'Who then?'
He simply shook his head and said, 'Let us go from here.' He turned and led the way outside. As we emerged from the dwelling, I caught a flash of motion at the edge of my vision. I looked, but there was nothing. A moment later, my master and I heard a splash in the nearby lake – as if someone had thrown in a very large rock.
Merlin stopped and glanced toward the lake. Without a word, we turned and walked past the horses and down a path to the lakeshore. The surface was smooth and untroubled, but at the water's edge we saw the indentations in the coarse-pebbled shingle. Merlin knelt and pressed his palm into one of the marks. 'These were made by many feet,' he said. The sorrow in his voice made it husky and thick.
I followed the tracks to the water's edge where they disappeared.
'Why?' I asked, my voice a whisper. I strained to see below the lake surface, thinking, I suppose, to see the tangled bodies floating there.
'This is what I saw in the Seeing Bowl,' Merlin murmured. 'And I have come too late.' He glanced sharply at me. 'Why? As soon ask the wind – it knows far more than I.' He stood and looked long at the smooth, glimmering water, calm in the deep solitude of the forest.
'But I can tell you this,' Merlin said quietly, 'the scent of death is in this place… it lingers… like the stench of rotting meat in the ground… like a killing fog over the fen. Death is here… '
All at once he squeezed his eyes tight and pressed his palms flat against his temples. His mouth opened in a tremendous cry of anguish. 'AHHHP Merlin's voice echoed over the water and was swallowed by the close-grown forest round about.
I took him by the arm to steady him. He opened his eyes slowly, the bright golden gleam now darkened with pain and sorrow. 'Morgian!' he uttered, his voice strangled with grief. 'It was Morgian… '
He turned at once and began climbing back up the trail to the horses. I stood for a moment longer, gazing into the clear water. The lake, cold and deep and dark, revealed nothing. But, as I made to move away, the glint of metal caught my eye and I glanced down at my feet. A small silver brooch lay on the shingle where it had fallen.
I picked it up and held it in my hand. A simple shell-shaped disc with a hole through which to gather the cloth, and a long silver pin to hold the garment. The ornament was bent – trodden on, I thought.
As I turned it over, I saw a tatter of bright blue cloth still firmly held by the pin. It came into my mind that the brooch had been wrenched from the garment by force; torn from the body of the person who had worn it, and thrown down to be trampled underfoot. I looked once more at the unruffled surface of the lake, and at the marks made by many feet on the shore. Cold dread stole over me where I stood.
I rucked the brooch under my belt and hurried up the track to where Merlin waited. I swung into the saddle and wheeled my horse onto the trail, well ready to be gone from this melancholy place.
We started back at once, wending through the shadows and gloom in silence, sensing with every plodding step the dull horror of the deserted settlement and wondering what atrocity had been committed there.
I led the way along the path and Broceliande became even more forbidding than when we had entered. Neither of us spoke; Merlin kept his own counsel, and when I looked behind me I saw him wrapped in his cloak although the air was warm.
We stopped beside a clear, dish-shaped pool to make our camp for the night. The pool lay in an airy, open glade within the forest which ringed the glade like a tall, dark wall. A small stand of beech trees grew near the forest wall, and around the pool a few small willows and elder bushes.
I watered the animals, unsaddled and tethered them – allowing an extra length of rope, so that they could graze as widely as possible among the trees. Then I set about making camp. Merlin sat a little apart, watching absently, lost in thought.
As daylight began to fail, I walked the short distance to the beech copse to gather dead wood for our fire. I fetched a sizeable load in no time, and began making my way back to the pool. Halfway between the copse and the pool I stopped -
What is that? I wondered, listening.
Was it the breeze in the grass and barren branches that made the slight singing sound? I continued on my way. But the sound grew louder as I approached the pool.
I saw her in the same instant that she saw me. A maid with golden hair, dressed all in green – mantle, shift and shawl – and carrying a leather bucket in her hand. Her skin was lightly freckled, hinting at various labours in the sun. She was finely formed and graceful; her eyes were large and dark as polished jet. Her free hand went to her mouth and she stifled a cry when she saw me.
'Peace, lady,' I told her. 'You have nothing to fear.'
She lowered her hand, but still held the bucket as if to throw it at me. 'Who are you?' her voice was low, and rich as cream.
'I am a traveller,' I told her, 'and the steward of a nobleman who waits for me at the pool.' I indicated the willows ahead.
She glanced at the bucket in her hand and, as if offering it to me as proof of her words, replied uncertainly, 'I have come for water.'
'And you shall have it,' I said. I started once more towards the pool. She hesitated. 'Come, there is no harm.'
Reluctantly she followed, two paces behind me. We came to where Merlin waited, resting, his back against one of the willows. Merlin opened his eyes when we came near, saw the girl, and stood.
'She has come for water,' I explained, dropping the firewood to the ground.
'I give you good day, lady,' Merlin said by way of greeting. 'You must live very near. Yet we have seen no settlements hereabouts.'
'Oh, there are none, my lord,' the maid replied. 'My father and I – we live alone,' she turned to point vaguely behind her, 'just there.'
'Perhaps we should go and pay our respects to your father,' Merlin said. 'As it seems we are passing through his lands.'
The girl bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concern. I did not like to see her in such distress. I reached a hand towards her and touched her gently on the arm. Her flesh was warm and soft. 'You need have no fear of us,' I told her. 'We are honourable men.'
She smiled, and lowered her eyes. 'I meant no disrespect, my lord. It is just that… my father has gone hunting and I am alone.' As she said this, she raised her head and looked directly into Merlin's eyes.
'What is your name, girl?' he asked.
'Nimue, my lord,' she replied softly.
'Your father's?'
'Lord Meleagant,' she answered hesitantly.
'Are you often left alone, Nimue?'
'Often enough. But never for long, my lord,' she added quickly. 'Hunting is difficult in this place, and my father must range far for our meat.' She smiled, becoming more at ease. 'Thus I am often alone, but I do not mind. I have become accustomed to it.'
'Are you never afraid to be alone, Nimue?' said Merlin, speaking my thoughts precisely.
She tossed her golden locks. 'How should I be afraid? No one comes here, and there are no wild beasts to beset me. My father is not long away; I am well cared for. This,' she indicated the land with an upraised palm, 'is not like other places; there is never any trouble here.'