We broke camp the next morning and made our way back towards Camelot. We reached Glynebwy by midafternoon, escorting Gorfan through the gates of the old villa and right up to the front door, much to the consternation of her nephew Alun. He acted pleased to see us but I'd seen the look in his eyes before in other places. It was only human to worry about how much of your food stores was about to be eaten and how much of the feed meant for your own horses would need to be replaced before winter came.

So when Merlin politely declined Gorfan's invitation to us all to stay the night the smile on Alun's face became less forced. He held the bridle of Gorfan's horse as Merlin helped her down and said a few words of comfort. Then Bedwyr gave a soft command and the rest of us drew our swords and saluted Gorfan as her family looked on in amazement. She bowed her head to us in return, waiting to speak until we'd sheathed blades and Merlin had remounted.

"May the Light keep and watch over you all"

"And over you and yours, Gorfan." I signaled the troop to depart. "Until we meet again, lady."

We rode out the gates towards Camelot.

I never saw Lady Gorfan again.

************************************

We could have ridden much faster now that we no longer had Gorfan to consider, yet we kept the same speed as before. I think now looking back that the words Merlin has spoken to us back at the campsite might have had something to do with that slow pace. The others might have had the same realization that I'd had, that this might very well be the last time we'd have to serve Arthur together as we had done when it had been only us few. So we took our time, telling stories and joking about those days as we rode towards home.

Merlin rode beside me and to my surprise and relief he seemed to have improved since that night spent by Amr's grave. "It was a Place of Power." he told me. "I was able to regain much of what I had lost there. And I think Arianrhod also helped." But he said no more to me of why or how that woman could have helped him regain his memory. Instead we spoke of the here and now and what the death of Amr would mean to the stability of Britain now that there was no clear line of succession.

"Arthur will name Constantine of Cornwall his heir now."

Merlin nodded. "But that doesn't mean the rest of the noble families will accept it. After all, the Pendragons came out of nowhere to take the crown; there are others who dream of doing much the same thing and they might decide not to wait for Arthur's death to make the dream reality."

"Perhaps so. But now that you've returned I doubt any of them would be so foolish as to attempt a rebellion. The prospect of opposing Arthur is daunting enough for any man, but you at Arthur's side makes it nigh well impossible that they would succeed."

Merlin didn't answer right away.

"Merlin?" I turned to look at his face. "You are returning with us, aren't you? You said you'd speak to Arthur for me!"

He sighed. "I will speak with Arthur for you, Kay, as I promised. But afterwards I cannot stay."

I grabbed his arm and brought my horse to a halt. "Why? Arthur needs you now as much as he ever did. Will you leave him once again to go off on one of your mysterious journeys?" The rest of the men rode on without comment; such confrontations between Merlin and myself were common in the old days.

"No, Kay. When I leave this time, I shall not return for many years, if ever at all. It's time, I see that now, time to go before it's too late."

"Too late? Too late for what? Too late to leave rather than stay and help Arthur keep his kingdom safe?"

"No. Too late to leave before I do something wrong for all the right reasons." He gently slid his arm free of my hand. "Kay, would you have me become like that shield? I could protect Arthur, aye, ensure that nothing could ever defeat his dream. And in the process of doing that I would destroy it. There is a Balance, Kay. Someone once told me that." He shook his head ruefully. "If I could only remember who it was"

"You are a man, Merlin. You aren't some maddened dragon's spirit!"

Merlin straightened in his saddle and he raised a brow. "Am I only that, Kay, just a man? And only a few days back you thought me quite mad, didn't you? No, Kay, I am like that Tear and like Gorfan in one respect: I would do anything to protect Arthur, even as they tried to protect Amr. And I would end in bringing his dream and so Arthur as well to ruins in the process. What think you? Would Arthur thank me for my protection then?"

He set his horse in motion and I followed, riding along silently as the night fell. Just before we stopped to make camp he shook his head. "I fear that while Arthur will understand what has happened to Amr, others will not."

I gave a shrug. "I've never cared what others thought of me, you know that."

"I know, but you were there when Llachleu died and now with Amr as well. There are those who might use that against you."

"Let them if it will keep them Arthur's back." We dismounted and I took the reins of Merlin's horse.

"Kay?"

"Yes, Merlin?"

"Arthur is lucky to have you for his foster brother." He turned and walked towards the campfire. "Even if you are still mad with him about that day."

"Maybe. But I still think you could have chosen another damn day to have him find Excalibur than at my first tournament." I muttered, then cursed as I heard Merlin laugh as he walked away. I looked at his horse.

"Well, being mad doesn't seem to have affected his hearing any."

"… There is another wonder in the region which is called Ercing. A tomb is located there next to a spring which is called Licat Amr; and the name of the man who is buried in the tomb was called thus: Amr. He was the son of Arthur…
… And men come to measure the grave and find it sometimes six feet in length, sometimes nine, sometimes twelve, sometimes fifteen. At whatever length you might measure it at one time, a second time you will not find it to have the same length-- and I myself have put this to the test" - Nennius "Historia Britonum"

© 3/2005


The Hundredth Tear XXXVI

"Riders!"

Medraut shaded his eyes with a hand and looked to where the sentry pointed. He couldn't quite make out all the riders at this distance with the late afternoon sun behind them, but there was the Red Dragon banner and Bedwyr's big grey stallion among the riders. It was enough.

"Gods! Can't they go any faster? Or perhaps their old bones ache too much to ride like real warriors?" The speaker, a guard from Orkney who was still trying to grow his first beard, grinned as his companions laughed, then stopped as he saw that his Prince was not amused. But another made some snide comment and a soft wave of snickers passed through the watchers on Camelot's walls.

Medraut gave a frown before he turned back to stare at the oncoming riders. He'd always had people hanging about, looking to curry favor and perhaps advance their fortunes, but lately the group had grown larger. Where before it had mostly been men from the Orkneys who'd had a grudge against one or all of Medraut's brothers, now it included men from all over Britain. The rumors of his being Arthur's son had drawn them to his side, and he'd trade ten of them for any one of the men riding towards the gates of Camelot below.

He waited as they drew closer, searching for one face in particular, then moved away from the wall and made for the stairs to the courtyard below. He didn't bother telling the others not to follow him because they'd most like ignore it, so his descent was marked by the clatter of the armed men behind him. Medraut had a brief moment of panic envisioning what might happen if one of the idiots slipped and they all tumbled down to hit the ground at Kay's feet, but he brushed the image aside as he reached the bottom step and let the others pass.

He couldn't trust any of these men with his back.

There was a short blast of a horn and the gate doors were drawn back to reveal the party waiting outside. There was Kay and the rest of Arthur's old Companions, and a robed rider next to Kay, his face hidden under a hood. One of Medraut's men made another sniggling comment and Medraut clenched his fists.

"Good day, Medraut. Kind of you to meet us here to welcome us home." Kay sat easily in his saddle, one hand resting lightly on his hip, a few inches from the hilt of his sword. He surveyed the others that now stood to either side of the courtyard, then gave a smile that Medraut well remembered from his days as a page. "And you've brought some friends with you. How thoughtful!"

"It wasn't you I was here to greet. Where's Amr?"

Some of the others echoed his question angrily. Beorn had been a good lad and his death at Amr's hands had become one of the rallying points of those who wanted Medraut recognized as Arthur's heir. None of his followers would have believed their prince was here not to seek justice but to welcome his friend home.

Lucian pushed his way to the front of the riders leading another rider's horse by the reins. It was Bedivere, looking pale faced and holding his side. Lucian gave the onlookers a hard stare. "I've a man here who needs to have a wound taken in his king's service tended. I don't have time for pleasantries. Out of my way, puppies." He moved forwards with his friend and the group stepped back to let them pass. Then the rest of Kay's men came through, a few of them with stares to match that of Lucian. In a few moments all that were left at the gate were Kay and his robed companion.

"What about Amr?" Medraut demanded.

"Dead. I'm sorry, Medraut."

Some fool spat on the ground. "Liar! He's protecting a murderer! Who's that under that hood, eh, Kay? Trying to sneak the murderer into Camelot to see his father?"

"And let the other leave me here alone to face you fierce young lions?" Kay gave a mocking laugh, then shook his head and grew serious. "Amr is dead. Ask any of the men who rode with me if I speak truth, but think twice before you call one of them a liar. They are far less forgiving of idiots than I am."

"Then who's that up there beside you? Show us his face!"

The other rider shrugged, then pulled back his hood to reveal a grey bearded man with unkempt hair.

"Look, they recruited another old man for the King!"

Medraut swore under his breath as he turned to reprimand whoever had shouted that insult. He needn't have bothered. One of the older men was whispering fiercely into the ear of the boy who'd been the joker up on the wall. Medraut had the brief satisfaction of seeing the loudmouth turn paler than the wounded Bedivere. "Forgive him, Lord Merlin. He is young, and you've been long away"

There was silence in the courtyard as Arthur's wizard looked at the boy and then the rest of Medraut's followers. "Let us hope he lives a long life and learns wisdom. I give you greetings, Lord Medraut. You've a rather…interesting… group of companions. Now forgive in turn my rudeness. I've a report to make to our King." He nodded once, then rode slowly off towards the stables leaving Kay alone with the rest.

"Lord Amr is dead. Merlin will give the details to Arthur. I will swear any oath you want to that fact, Medraut." Kay swung out of the saddle and rubbed the neck of his horse. "I will tell them to you if you wish, but I really don't want an audience when I do." He nodded his head at the men. "Do you?"

Medraut waved his arm towards the watchers. "Leave us." For once thankfully the dolts did as he told them and he was alone at last with Kay. "Tell me."

And as they walked towards the stables, Kay told of how Amr died.

************************************************

"… and so we decided to keep his gravesite a secret, for now. We didn't want it desecrated by someone seeking revenge. Amr was not in full control of himself when he hurt those people." Kay finished the story with a sad shake of his head. "Gods, I feel old. I saw all of you come to Camelot as children. Hard to believe Llew and Amr are gone, and you…"

"I am such a disgrace?"

"No, that you are an adult. Wait until you have children. You'll understand." Kay ran a hand tiredly over his chin. "Medraut, about what I said to you, back outside Amr's room?" I'm sorry. I was upset and wasn't thinking. I should have known better."

"Yes, you should have. But your apology will only last as long until the next time someone accuses me of some act that hurts Arthur. Save your words, Kay. They are air, worthless." Medraut nodded curtly, started to turn away, then stopped and looked back. "There are those who support me who have already had harsh things to say of you, Lord Kay. Know that they do so against my command. We may not be friends now, but I would not repay your past kindness to me and my kin by hurting you to get at the king."

Kay sighed. "I suppose I should be grateful. I don't suppose there is any way I can talk you into choosing a different path?"

"I am Morgaine's son. What other path could I ever choose?" He turned and walked away He looked back over his shoulder.

"Besides, there are other more painful ways to hurt my father."

© 4/2005


The Hundredth Tear XXXVII

And so at last we'd come home to Camelot.

Merlin did as he had promised and spoke with Arthur about Amr and other things. No one saw either of them for nearly two days as they shut themselves up in Arthur's study and had food sent in from the kitchens. Any who tried to question the servants who brought the trays back and forth found that Merlin's reputation was more than enough to silence even the loosest tongue.

Even I couldn't get a hint of what they spoke about there together.

It was maddening.

Near the end of the second day the door opened, Merlin and Arthur stepped out into the corridor and shook hands. Merlin murmured something, patted Arthur on the back, and strode away to the entrance to his tower. Arthur went to find Guinevere.

The next morning, Camelot woke to find Merlin gone once again and his door locked with a strangely glowing seal showing two dragons fighting. For a time, every hedge wizard and mage in Britain seemed to parade through Camelot's halls and try their hand at opening that door. None ever succeeded. Eventually they stopped coming, or if they did they seemed to forget why they came to Camelot in the first place and became involved in other pursuits.

Arthur never told me what he and Merlin talked about in that last encounter. But looking back on what came later, I suspect he was being prepared for what our future held. At any rate, we never saw Merlin again.

Or at least I never did. Strangely enough, I've missed the curmudgeon.

***********************************************

Medraut did indeed find other and more hurtful ways to deal with Arthur than by making me a target. But others among his faction were less inclined to be merciful, and the whispering began again that I'd had a part in causing the deaths of Arthur's sons. I ignored them, although I must admit there were a few decent songs about me that were rather amusing.

Medraut sowed his seeds among the folk of Camelot and in time they came to fruition. It was a bitter harvest, that. Instead of following Arthur to the throne when the king passed, Medraut found he could not control those who followed him. I won't go into retelling that whole sad tale of Guinevere and Lancelot; suffice to say that whether it was true or not, it led to the sundering of the Round Table.

In the fighting that followed I took a bad wound to the head and when I was no where to be found after the battle, it was assumed I'd been killed. Luckily for me, that was not the case. I'd been taken with other wounded to a nearby abbey, but the swelling of my face and the bandages over it had hid my identity from those who Arthur had sent to find me until Bedivere and Lucian took up the hunt and tracked me down at last.

And so it was that we three came late to that final battlefield to bear witness to the combat between Arthur and Medraut and watch helplessly as they killed each other and each other's dreams.

I helped the others carry him down to the shore and the boat that waited to bear Arthur across the water to Avalon. Night was falling, and my vision was blurred with tears, but it seemed to me one of the four women was that woman Arianrhod who'd been there when Amr died. But she neither spoke nor acknowledged us, and we in truth didn't care about that.

Arthur was gone.

The Dark descended once more upon Britain with a vengeance in the form of the Saxons. The remnants of Britain's nobility fought on, but gradually the larger numbers of Saxon settlers grew until we were pushed back to the west into Wales and Cornwall.

Somehow, the Saxons never found Camelot castle. While those who were once part of Arthur's court or who are of British blood traveled back and forth there regularly, no Saxon army ever laid siege to its walls.

I think Merlin might have had something to do with that.

As for me, my head wound had put an end to my days as a warrior, and like many others of Arthur's men I turned to the solace of a religious life and came back here to this abbey where I had once lain wounded. Some of my fellow monks might be amused to learn that the mild mannered Brother Caius was once the sharp-tongued Kai of Camelot.

I dream at night of Camelot. Sometimes to my shame, I dream of Morgaine. But most often I dream of Amr and Lleu and Medraut, and time and again I see Medraut with that bottle. If only I'd stopped him. Not for Amr's sake alone, but for Camelot. It haunts me that if I'd stayed that night, perhaps Amr might not have left Camelot as he did, and I'd not have uttered those words that finally put Medraut on a course that destroyed all Arthur had worked to achieve.

So ends my tale. My sight is not what once it was and one of the novices has been kind enough to write these words down on paper for me. On the morrow he'll have them sent to the librarian at Camelot to be hidden in whatever way he chooses. Let some future reader find them when the time comes for the full truth be known.

They say Arthur rests at Avalon, regaining his strength until he can come again. God grant that this is so. It's been many years now since that final battle, but I do not doubt that if he should appear tomorrow to reclaim his throne, those of the old Companions who are left would once more rally to his side, even as old and infirm as we may now be.

We'd fight once more for Arthur's dream and for Camelot.

© 4/2005

~ finis ~