“Then what about you? Won't you be in danger, too?”
“Possibly. I shall have to go disguised, as it is. Why do you think I've been letting my beard grow all this while?”
“I didn't know. I never thought about it. Do you mean you've been expecting the Queen to send for you?”
“I didn't expect this summons, I admit,” I said. “But I know that, come Christmas, when the child is born, I must be there.”
He stared. “Why?”
I regarded him for a moment. He was standing near the mouth of the cave, against the sunset, just as he had come in from his trip across the hill to the shepherd's hut. He was still clutching the osier basket which had held the salves. It held a small bundle now, wrapped in a clean linen cloth. The shepherd's wife, who lived across in the next valley, sent bread up weekly to her man; some of this Abba regularly sent on to me. I could see the boy's fists clenched bone-white on the handle of the basket. He was tense, as angry and fretting as a fighting dog held back in the slips. There was something more here, I was sure, than homesickness, or disappointment at missing an adventure.
“Put that basket down, for goodness' sake,” I said, “and come in. That's better. Now, sit down. It's time that you and I talked. When I accepted your service, I did not do so because I wanted someone to scour the cooking pots and carry gifts from Abba's wife on baking day. Even if I am content with my life here on Bryn Myrddin, I'm not such a fool as to think it contents you — or would do so for long. We are waiting, Ralf, no more. We have fled from danger, both of us, and healed our hurts, and now there is nothing to do but wait.”
“For the Queen's childbed? Why?”
“Because as soon as he is born, the Queen's son will be given to me to care for.”
He was silent for a full minute before he said, sounding puzzled: “Does my grandmother know this?”
“I think she suspects that the child's future lies with me. When I last spoke with the King, on that night at Tintagel, he told me he would not acknowledge the child who would be born. I think this is why the Queen has sent for me.”
“But...not to acknowledge his eldest son? You mean he will send him away? Will the Queen agree? A baby — surely they would never send it to you? How could you keep it? And how can you even know it will be a boy?”
“Because I had a vision, Ralf, that night in Tintagel. After you had let us in through the postern gate, while the King was with Ygraine, and Ulfin kept guard outside the chamber, you diced with the porter in the lodge by the postern. Do you remember?”
“How could I ever forget? I thought that night would never end.”
I did not tell him that it had not ended yet. I smiled. “I think I felt the same, while I waited alone in the guardroom. It was then that I saw — was shown — for certain why God had required me to do as I had done, shown for sure that my prophecies had been true. I heard a sound on the stairs, and went out of the guard-room onto the landing. I saw Marcia, your grandmother, coming down the steps towards me from the Queen's room, carrying a child. And though it was only March, I felt the chill of midwinter, and then I saw the stairs and the shadows clear through her body, and knew it was a vision. She put the child into my arms and said, 'Take care of him.' She was weeping. Then she vanished, and the child too, and the winter's chill went with her. But this was a true picture, Ralf. At Christmas I shall be there, waiting, and Marcia will hand the Queen's son into my care.”
He was silent for a long time. He seemed awed by the vision. But then he said, practically: “And I? Where do I come into this? Is this why my grandmother told me to stay with you and serve you?”
“Yes. She saw no future for you near the King. So she made sure you would be near his son.”
“A baby?” His voice was blank. He sounded horrified, and far from flattered. “You mean that if the King won't acknowledge the child, you'll have to keep it? I don't understand. Oh, I can see why my grandmother concerns herself, and even why you do, but not why she dragged me into it! What sort of future does she think there is in looking after a king's bastard that won't be acknowledged?”
“Not a king's bastard,” I said. “A king.”
There was silence but for the fluttering of the fire. I had not spoken with power, but with the full certainty of knowledge. He stared, open-mouthed, and shaken.
“Ralf,” I said, “you came to me in anger, and you stayed from duty, and you have served me as well and as faithfully as you knew how. You were no part of my vision, and I don't know if your coming here, or the wounds that held you here with me, were part of God's plan; I have had no message from my gods since Gorlois died. But I do know now, after these last weeks, that there is no one I would sooner choose to help me. Not with the kind of service you have given till now: when this winter comes it isn't a servant I shall need; I shall need a fighting man who is loyal, not to me or to the Queen, but to the next High King.”
He was pale, and stammering. “I had no idea. I thought...I thought...”
“That you were suffering a kind of exile? In a way, we both were. I told you it was a waiting time.” I looked down at my hands. It was dark now outside the cave; the sun had gone, and dusk drew in. “Nor do I know clearly what lies ahead, except danger and loss and treachery, and in the end some glory.”
He sat quiet, without moving, till I roused myself from my thoughts and smiled at him. “So now, perhaps, you will accept that I don't doubt your courage?”
“Yes. I'm sorry I spoke as I did. I didn't understand.” He hesitated, chewing his lip, then sat forward, hands on knees. “My lord, you really don't know why the Queen has sent for you now?”
“No.”
“But because you know that your vision of the birth was a true one, you know that you will go safely this time to Cornwall, and return?”
“You could say so.”
“Then if your magic is always true, might it not be because I go with you to protect you that you make the journey safely?”
I laughed. “I suppose it's a good quality in a fighting man, never to admit defeat. But can't you see, taking you would only be taking two risks instead of one. Because my bones tell me I shall be safe, it doesn't mean that you will.”
“If you can be disguised, so can I. If you even say that we must go as beggars and sleep in the ditches...whatever the danger...” He swallowed, sounding all at once very young. “What is it to you if I run a risk? You are to be safe, you told me so. So taking me can't endanger you, and that's all that matters. Won't you let me take my own risks? Please?”
His voice trailed away. Silence again, and the fire flickering. Time was, I thought, not without bitterness, when I would only have had to watch the flames to find the answer there. Would he be safe? Or would I carry the burden of yet another death? But all that the firelight showed me was a youth who needed to find manhood. Uther had denied it to him; I could not let my conscience do the same.
At length I said heavily: “I told you once that men must stand by their own deeds. I suppose that means I have no right to stop you taking your own risks. Very well, you may come...No, don't thank me. You'll dislike me thoroughly enough before we're done. It will be a damned uncomfortable journey, and before we set out, you'll have work to do that won't suit you.”
“I'm used to that,” he said, and straightened, laughing. He was shining, excited, the gaiety that I remembered back in his face. “But you don't mean you're going to teach me magic?”
“I do not. But I shall have to teach you a little medicine, whether you like it or not. I shall be a travelling eye doctor; it's a good passport anywhere, and one can pay one's way easily without spending the Queen's gold abroad where questions might be asked. So you will have to be my assistant, and that means learning to mix the salves properly.”