“What about Morgause?” I asked.
“Uther was casting out feelers for marrying her to Lot, come the time she'll be ready for bedding.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “And what did Lot think about that?”
“Eh, you'd have laughed to watch him. Black as a wolverine at the suggestion that Uther's byblow was good enough, but careful to keep his talk sweet in case there's no other daughter born in the right bed now the King's wedded. Bastards — and their mates — have inherited kingdoms before now. Saving your presence, of course.”
“Of course. Lot casts his eyes as high as that, then?”
He gave a short nod. “High as the High Kingdom itself, you can take my word for it.”
I digested that, frowning. I had never met Lot; he was at this time scarcely older than myself — somewhere in his early twenties — and though he had fought under my father, his path and mine had not crossed. “So Uther wants to tie Lothian to him, and Lot wants to be tied? Whether it's for his own ambition or not, it means surely that Lot will fight for the High King when the time comes? And Lothian is our main bulwark against the Angles and the other invaders from the north.”
“Oh, aye, he'll fight,” said Ector. “Unless the Angles offer him a better bribe than Uther does.”
“Do you mean that?” I was alarmed. Ector, for all his bluff ways, was a shrewd observer, and few men knew more about the changing shifts of power along our shores.
“Maybe I was putting it a trifle high. But for my money Lot's unscrupled and ambitious, and that's a combination that spells danger to any overlord who can't placate him.”
“How is he with Rheged?” I was thinking of the child to be lodged here perhaps at Galava, with Lot east by north across the Pennines.
“Oh, friends, friends. As good friends as two big hounds each with his own full platter of meat; No, it's not yet a matter for concern, and may never be. So forget it, and drink up.” He drank deeply himself, set down his cup and wiped his mouth. Then he fixed me with a sharp and curious eye. “Well? You'd better get to it, boy. You didn't come all this way for a good supper and a brattle with an old farmer. Tell me how I can serve Ambrosius' son?”
“It is Ambrosius' nephew you will be serving,” I said, and told him the rest. He heard me out in silence. For all his warmth and heartiness, there was nothing impulsive or over-quick about Ector. He had been a cold-brained and calculating officer; a valuable man in any circumstance, from a pitched fight to a long and careful siege. After a sharp glance of surprise and a lift of the brows when I spoke of the King's decision and my guardianship of the child, he listened without moving and without taking his eyes off me.
When I had finished, he stirred. “Well...I'll say one thing to start with, Merlin; I'm glad and proud you should have come to me. You know how I felt about your father. And to tell you the truth, boy” — he cleared his throat, hesitated, then looked away into the fire as he spoke — “it always sorrowed my heart that you yourself were a bastard. And that's between these four walls, I don't have to tell you. Not that Uther's made a bad shot at being High King — ”
“A far better shot than I'd ever have made,” I said, smiling. “My father used to say that Uther and I, between us, shared out some of the qualities of a good king. It was a dear dream of his that some day, between us, we might fashion one. And this is the one.” Then, as his head went up, “Oh, I know, a baby not yet born. But all the first part has happened as I knew it must happen: a child begotten by Uther and given to me to raise. I know this is the one. I believe he will be such a king as this poor country has never had before, and may never see again.”
“Your stars tell you this?”
“It has been written there, certainly, and who writes among the stars but God?”
“Well, God grant it is so. There's coming a time, Merlin, maybe not next year, or for five years, or even for ten, but it is coming — when the Flood Year will come again, and pray God that this time there's a king here to raise the sword of Maximus against it.” He turned his head sharply. “What's that? That sound?”
“Only the wind in the bowstrings.”
“I thought it was a harp sounding. Strange. What is it, boy? Why do you look so?”
“Nothing.”
He looked at me doubtfully for a moment longer, then grunted and fell silent, and behind us the long humming stretched out, a cold music, something from the air itself. I remembered how, as a child, I had lain watching the stars and listening for the music which (I had been told) they made as they moved. This must, I thought, be how it sounded.
A servant came in then with logs to replenish the fire, and the sound died. When he had gone, and the door had shut behind him, Ector spoke again in quite a different tone. “Well, I'll do it, of course, and proud to. You're right; in the next few years I can't see that Uther will have much time for him, and for that matter he'd be hard put to it to keep the child safe. Tintagel might have done, but as you say, there's Cador there...Does the King know that you've come to me?”
“No. Nor will I tell him, yet.”
“Indeed?” He thought it over for a moment, frowning a little. “Do you think he'll be content with that?”
“Possibly. I don't know. He didn't press me too hard about Brittany. I think that just now he wants as little to do with it as need be. The other thing is” — I smiled a little wryly — “the King and I have a truce declared, but I wouldn't bank on its staying that way; and out of sight, out of mind. If I'm to have anything to do with the child's teaching, then it had better be at a fair distance from the High King.”
“Aye, I've heard that, too. It's never a wise thing to help kings to their heart's desire. Will the boy be a Christian?”
“The Queen wants it, so he'll be baptized in Brittany if I can arrange it. He's to be called Arthur.”
“You'll stand for him?”
I laughed. “I believe the fact that I was never baptized myself puts me out of the running.”
His teeth showed. “I forgot you were a pagan. Well, I'm glad to hear about the boy. There'd have been a peck of trouble else.”
“Your wife, you mean? She's so devout?”
“Poor lass,” he said, “she has nothing else since our second died. There'll be no more, they say. In fact it will be God's mercy if we take this boy into our house; my son Cei's a headstrong little ruffian for all he's only three, and the women spoil him. It will be good to have the second child. What did you say his name was to be? Arthur? You'll leave this with me to talk over with Drusilla? Though there's no question, she'll be as glad as I am to have him. And I can tell you that she's close-mouthed enough, for all she's a woman. He'll be safe with us.”
“I was sure of it. It doesn't need the stars to tell me that.” But when I began to thank him, he cut me short.
“Well, then, that's settled. We can talk over the details later. I'll speak with Drusilla tonight. You'll stay a while, of course?”
“Thank you, but I can't — no longer than it takes to rest myself and my horse. I have to be at Tintagel again in December, and before that I must be home when Ralf gets back from Brittany. There's a lot to be arranged.”
“A pity. But you'll be back. I'll look forward to it.” He grinned, stirring the hounds again. “I'll enjoy seeing you installed as tutor to the household, or whatever you think will give you some claim on the boy. And I own I should like to see Cei licked into shape. Maybe he'll mind his manners with you, if he thinks he can be turned into a toad for disobeying you.”