Arthur

'It is,' I replied, and began to explain the aim of our journey. 'The trouble here in the south – Morcant's stupid war, strife in a dozen different places – it is only just beginning. Now more than ever we need a High King, but Arthur's claim was not upheld.'

I told her of the council and of Arthur's becoming War Leader, and of our journey to Ban in Benowyc to secure aid. I described finding Fair Folk in Ban's court… and then I told her of Broceliande.

Charis became earnest. 'Pelleas, if I am to help, I must know – what happened to the people in Broceliande?'

'I cannot say for certain, but I think it was Morgian's doing.'

'Morgian!' Charis' hand flew up as if to ward off a blow.

'It is so, my lady.'

'When you said it was sorcery, I did not think… ' her voice trailed off. Presently she nodded – as if forcing down bitter herbs. 'Tell me what happened to my son,' she said. 'I will bear it.'

Slowly, each word weighted with dread and sorrow, I told Charis of our encounter with Nimue. The Lady of the Lake listened calmly, holding her head erect. But her eyes bespoke the torment in her soul. 'It was Morgian,' she whispered, when I finished.

'I fear it was,' I said. 'I do not know how it is, but she anticipated us. In truth, I believe she lured us there to our destruction.'

'But you were not destroyed.'

'No,' I said. 'God is good; we were spared.'

'My heart wishes to tell me that you are wrong, that there must be some other explanation. But my spirit tells me you are right: this is Morgian's doing. I feel it.'

'When I found him, and saw that he still lived, my only thought was to bring him here. If Merlin is to be saved, it will be here.' I spoke with far more certainty than I felt at that moment.

'Your faith is admirable, Pelleas. But I know nothing of sorcery. As it is, I have not been able to discover how the spell may be broken or how Merlin may be released from it.' Charis sighed, and I heard heartbreak in the sound.

The room was bright with candlelight. As if to banish the dark thing stealing her son, Charis had ordered the chamber to be filled with burning tapers. Together we entered a room warm with the scent of beeswax.

Merlin lay on his back, his arms at his sides. Abbot Elfodd sat beside him on the bed, his ear close to Merlin's mouth, listening to the sleeping man's breathing. His face was calm, but his eyes were grave.

'Nothing has changed,' Elfodd said softly, as he came to the bed. They had shared this same sickbed vigil too many times to be counted; no greeting was necessary between them.

'The spell is Morgan's,' Charis said, naming her worst fear.

'Ah,… ' The good abbot passed a hand before his eyes. 'God help us.'

We fell silent, gazing at Merlin, wondering what, if anything, could be done to save him. Could anything be done to save him?

Elfodd was the first to shake off his dismay. 'This!' he declared, throwing a hand to the room. 'Do you feel it? This fear, this dread is part of the spell. It is meant to discourage us. To defeat us before we have even begun to fight against it.'

'You are right,' Charis agreed quickly.

'Well,' Elfodd declared, 'I know something stronger than fear.' And at once he began to recite a psalm in a bold voice: The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the sword of my salvation, my stronghold. I call to the Lord, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies!'

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room seemed lighter; the heavy dread receded.

Turning to me, the abbot said, 'Now then, Pelleas, I would hear you tell me what you know of this spell – but not here. We will go into the hall. Excuse us, lady,' he said to Charis, 'we will return directly.'

I told him all, as I had told Charis. The good abbot listened, a frown on his face, nodding occasionally as he followed my woeful recitation. 'Undoubtedly,' he said when he had heard, 'it is as we suspect: a most powerful enchantment. The weapons we will need to fight it must be equally powerful.'

'What is in your mind, Elfodd?'

'You will see very soon. Now then, bring a little oil, Pelleas. And the cross that Dafyd gave to Avallach – bring that as well. I will return to Merlin now.'

So saying, the abbot hurried away and I turned to my errand. I fetched the oil in a vial, and sought Avallach for the cross. I had seen it once, a long time ago, but did not know where it was kept. I found Avallach alone in his chamber. The pain of his long-standing ailment was on him once more and he was lying on his couch.

'I would not disturb you, lord,' I said when he bade me enter. 'We have need of the cross given you by Dafyd.'

The king raised himself slowly on an elbow. 'Dafyd's cross?" His eyes went to the vial in my hand. 'No change?'

'None,' I told him. 'Elfodd is with him now.'

'The cross is there.' He indicated a small casket on the table beside his couch. Take it. I will come along – ' He tried to rise, but the pain prevented him. 'Ah!' He slumped back, then struggled up once more, his teeth clenched.

'Please,' I said quickly, 'stay here and support us with your prayers. We have need of them just now.'

'Very well,' he agreed, falling back once more. 'I will do as you say. But come and tell me as soon as there is any word.'

I left Avallach with my promise and returned to Merlin's room with the cross and oil. Dafyd's cross, as Avallach called it, was a small crucifix of rough-carved oak, smoothed and polished by years of frequent handling.

Elfodd kissed the cross when I handed it to him, and then, holding his palm above the vial, said a prayer of consecration over the amber liquid.

He went to the bedside and sat down opposite Charis, poured some of the oil into his left hand and, touching the fingertips of his right hand to the sanctified oil, began anointing Merlin.

When he lowered his hand, Merlin's forehead glimmered softly in the candlelight with the sign of the cross.

Then, taking up the cross, he held it above Merlin's head, and said, 'Great of Might, Protector, Defender of all who call upon your name, shelter your servant beneath your strong hand. He sleeps, Father, an unnatural sleep, for an enemy has snared and bound him in a strong enchantment.

'His spirit has been poisoned, Father, by sorcery great and foul. Raise and restore our brother, we pray you. Beloved of Heaven, go to him, walk beside him where he is, and lead him back to us.

'Living God, show yourself mighty in the defence of your own. Great Giver, give us cause to sing your praise from the hilltops. This we ask, in the name of your most holy and compassionate son, Jesu, who is the Christ.'

The prayer finished, Elfodd lowered the cross and placed it gently on Merlin's breast.

Charis forced a tight smile. 'Thank you, Elfodd.'

The abbot folded his hands and gazed at Merlin. 'We have done what we can do,' he said.

'It is enough,' Charis replied. 'Pray God it is enough.'

'I will watch with him through the night,' Elfodd volunteered. He stepped round the low bed, took Charis by the hands and raised her to her feet. 'Go now. Take some rest. I will send for you if there is any need.'

Charis hesitated. Her eyes did not leave Merlin's face. 'No… I will stay. I would have no rest apart from him.'

'It is better that you go,' Elfodd insisted. His voice had lost none of its gentleness, but was now most firm.

'If you think – ' began Charis, glancing away from her son for the first time.

'Trust me. I will summon you if you are needed.'

Reluctantly, Charis agreed, saying, 'Stay with the abbot, Pelleas. He may need you.'

'As you wish, my lady.'

She left then, closing the door silently behind her.