The Seeing Stone (10 page)

“Out Gurg!
In Jesus!
Out Gassagull!
In Gabriel!
Out Maledictus!
In Benedictus!”

On Hallowe'en, the Devil rides around on his goat, and plays his bagpipes, and all the evil ones—the boggarts and goblins and broomstick witches—come out to meet him. When Oliver called out “Gurg” and “Gassagull,” I knew the devil was somewhere near, and my tailbone began to ache.

“May the saints protect us,” said Oliver. “Their souls are in the hands of God, and the torment of malice shall not touch them.” Oliver paused. “Friends,” he said, “now say the leaving charm with me.”

Then all around me people began to mumble, and I joined in:

“Here we are but go we must.
In Jesus Christ we put our trust.
May the Holy Trinity
Save us from the enemy
We recognize but cannot see.”

“In the name of the Father,” said Oliver, “and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

After this, the guisers quietly took the door into the dark. Their horse with its wild eyes and pointed teeth, made from rusty nails, led them through the night, each of them grasping an angry-faced lantern.

“Come on, priest,” said Merlin. “Go we must.”

“Sleep in peace,” Oliver said.

“He'll be safe with me,” said Merlin, and he was grinning.

Nain sat down on the stool beside the fire; she gave a deep sigh, and for a long time she stared into the dying embers. Serle, meanwhile, unrolled the bedding for himself and Nain, but then for Sian and me as well. He almost never does anything like that, so there must be some reason when he does. I don't know what it is yet.

Before he barred the door, my father checked our six lanterns were still burning, and laid out collops and ale on the threshold for the dead. He took my mother by the hand and, when he opened the chamber door, I could hear the sound of sharp, thin wailing.

M
Y HEART IS BEATING AND BEATING AS THOUGH I'D
rushed from here to the top of Tumber Hill. King Uther! Ygerna! I have seen them again. And the man in the dove-grey hood.

My stone was so cold when I unwrapped it. But while it was showing me the story, it grew very warm. Warmer than my own breath.

The king stretches out both his arms, as if he's hanging on the cross. “Ygerna!” he shouts. “Ygerna! Let this west wind hear your name. Let it carry my voice to Tintagel. Can you hear me? Ygerna!”

“Uther,” says the hooded man. “Patience!”

Once again that deep voice, as thick and calm as cream. I've heard it before, I know I have.

“How can I be patient?” snaps the king, and he jams the sandy fist of his right hand into the palm of his left hand.

“I have helped three kings of Britain before you,” the hooded man replies, “and I will help you. Now listen to me! You must keep Duke Gorlois here in Castle Terrible.”

“I can keep him here for a year and a day. But what use is that? Will it bring me any nearer to Ygerna? Not one heartbeat.”

“You don't understand me,” says the hooded man. “I mean your life depends on keeping Gorlois imprisoned here. Your men must maintain the siege while you and I go to Tintagel.”

“Tintagel! It's surrounded by cliffs that fall into the sea. The only way in is a rock bridge, and that's so narrow three men can easily defend it.”

“True,” says the hooded man. “No amount of force, no fine words…”

“Then how?” asks the king.

“If no power on earth can enable you to reach Ygerna,” says the hooded man, “you must use an unearthly power. I told you before: No one and nothing can stand in the way of great passion.”

“What power?” says King Uther, and he tugs his beard fiercely.

“If you are to have your desire,” the hooded man says, “you must promise me my desire.”

“I swear,” says King Uther, “by Saint Matthew and Saint Mark, Saint Luke, Saint John.”

“When you make love with Ygerna, she will conceive a child. You must give that child to me to bring up as I wish.”

“I swear it by all the saints,” says the king.

“I will honor your child and your child will bring you honor,” says the hooded man. “I will help you, Uther, and I will help your child who was and will be.”

Then the hooded man opens his right hand, and nestled in his palm there is a little circular bone box. He strokes it with his fingertips. “In this box, there is a drug. Soon after you take it, your appearance will change. You will look exactly like Duke Gorlois. I will take it too, and I will look exactly like Sir Jordans, the Duke's closest companion. And then we'll be able to enter Tintagel.”

“Ygerna,” says the king under his breath.

“When you reach her room, don't say too much to her. I can
give you Gorlois's body, but not his mind or memory. Just tell her how you've longed to see her—how you slipped away from this siege. Hurry her into bed.”

“I understand,” says the king.

“Now order your men to maintain the siege. Then we'll ride to Tintagel.”

As I stared into my stone, I saw King Uther and the hooded man sniff the drug-powder, and saw their appearance begin to change. I saw them leave the siege and gallop up to the fortress of Tintagel in the dark, and saw the guards allow them to cross the rock bridge because they looked exactly like the Duke of Cornwall and Sir Jordans.

“I will wait here, outside her chamber,” the hooded man says. And he winks at the king.

Then Uther lightly knocks and opens the chamber door; and there, in the candelight, stands Ygerna wearing her white nightgown, stitched with white silk stars.

“Gorlois!” cries Ygerna, and she steps towards him.

Uther looks at Ygerna. His heart is beating. He is out of breath.

It is true, she is beautiful. Her face is almond-shaped. Her bare shoulders and bare arms are rounded and pale and slender, like stripped willow, curving.

“I've longed to see you,” says Uther. “I slipped away from the siege at Castle Terrible.”

“How?”

“In this dark. Come!” And Uther takes a step towards Ygerna. He puts his arms around her…

For a few moments, my black stone sparkled. It was like the night sky on a freezing winter night, full of hundreds and thousands of stars, each of them sharp as a thorn and sparkling. Then it flashed and flooded itself with white light, and I heard birds singing, a dawn chorus. And I saw Uther and Ygerna again. Lying in a storm of linen, side by side, still sleeping.

Now Ygerna begins to stir and Uther begins to stir, both at the same time, as if each knows the other is waking.

Uther opens one eye. At once he reaches up and pats the top of his head, and I know why. Gorlois has a mane of black hair, but he is bald, and he wants to be sure the drug has not worn off.

Ygerna opens her eyes. They are violet as the little woodviolets that grow round the fringes of Pike Forest.

“I have conceived a child,” Ygerna whispers. “My body tells me so. We will have a boy, and he will be a great king.”

Now there is a fierce rapping at the chamber door, and Uther and Ygerna sit up on their pillows. Then the hooded man, still looking like Sir Jordans, leads two messengers into the room.

“I'm sorry, my lord,” the hooded man says, shaking his head and smiling, “but these two fools insist on speaking to Lady Ygerna…”

“Well, what is it?” Uther demands.

“Duke Gorlois!” one messenger exclaims.

“Is it you?” says the other. “I mean…”

“Get on with it!” says Uther.

“Lady Ygerna,” says the first messenger. “We've ridden here from Castle Terrible with this message for you. Last night our lord, Duke Gorlois, saw King Uther ride away from the siege, and so he
had the portcullis raised, and rode out with his men and few as they were, they attacked King Uther's men. Lady Ygerna,” says the messenger, “Duke Gorlois was killed.”

“Killed, was he?” says Uther.

“And after that,” the messenger adds, “King Uther's men killed many of the Duke's men and captured Castle Terrible.”

“Well!” says Uther, and he puts both arms round Ygerna. “I am not dead. As you see, I'm very much alive. The man you left for dead lying on the battlefield got here before you!” Uther closes his eyes and his whole body heaves in a sigh. “But you've brought bad news,” he says. “Now that Uther has captured Castle Terrible, he will soon advance on us here. He knows he cannot force his way in, so he will try to starve us out. I must ride out as fast as I can, and rally my men, and make peace with Uther. It will be the worse for us, otherwise.”

King Uther waves his right hand, the messengers bow, and the hooded man leads them out of the chamber.

“There's not a moment to be lost,” says Uther, and he leaps out of bed and quickly dresses himself. Then he takes Ygerna into his arms one more time. “I will return to you very soon,” he promises her. “And not as a dead man. As your husband.”

“A boy,” whispers Ygerna. “He will be a great king.”

S
LIM ALWAYS COOKS HARE FOR ALL HALLOWS DINNER.

“And it's a nice young one, Sir John,” Slim said. “It's only got one hole under its tail.”

As soon as dinner was over, Oliver rang the church bell and, one way or another, every person living on our manor came to church. Some people walked and the little ones ran, some staggered, some hauled themselves along on two sticks. Hum and Gatty carried Hum's old mother on a litter, because she hasn't walked since she broke her hipbone. And Giles and Dutton made a hand-chair for Madog because he has never walked. He's the same age as I am, and he just sits against the wall all day, and shakes with laughter, and blows bubbles, and waves his arms.

First Oliver reminded us of the four Saint Edmunds painted on the church wall. “Our own parish saint,” he called out, “and the saint of all England.”

Then he held up a little bone box, and it looked very much like the hooded man's box—the one in which he kept the magic powder. “Saint Edmund's fingernails,” Oliver proclaimed. “His nails went on growing for years after he died, and the shrine warden used to clip them. Pray to Saint Edmund to intercede for our souls!”

After this, Oliver said prayers for All Hallows and then he asked each of us to call out the names of our favorite saints.

Serle chose Charles of Apple Orchards, I don't know why, though I've noticed that he sometimes goes out to our orchard, and sits under an apple tree on his own. Slim called on Saint Laurence, who was roasted on a spit, and Gatty named Isidore the Farmworker because his sickle sharpened itself. Nain recited the names of eleven Welsh saints I have never heard of before: Tysilio and Cadoc and Ffraid and Tanwg…I can't remember the others. And then Sian made us laugh when she called on Cushman, saint of happy betrothals. I think she is still wondering whether Merlin was serious when he offered to marry her.

I expect Oliver thought I would call on Saint John the Divine, because he is the saint of writers. But I named the angel Raphael, saint of lovers, and then Gerard, who watches over pregnant women.

“What very strange choices, Arthur,” my mother said to me as we walked out of church. “Why did you call on them?”

“They interest me,” I said.

But of course I couldn't explain about Ygerna and Uther.

My father stared at me. “The things you know,” he said. “You could be a schoolman.”

I
KNOW I CAN'T KEEP ASKING MERLIN ABOUT MY SEEING
stone. I know I have got to work out things for myself. My head is crammed with questions. Is there a place called Tintagel? And a fortress there? And is there really a drug that changes the way you look? I can ask Johanna in the village about that.

When the hooded man said, “No one and nothing can stand in the way of great passion,” I think he meant that what happens in our lives depends on how determined we are, and how much we believe in ourselves. If so, I may be able to persuade my father to send me away into service, even if he doesn't want to.

Time in my stone sometimes runs slower, sometimes faster than the sun chasing shadow round our sundial. When I looked into it this afternoon, I could soon see that Ygerna was already six months gone. She and King Uther were married, and they were in London, sitting in the same huge hall where Uther had held his feast.

“Your baby,” says the king. “Whose is it?”

“Whose but mine?” Ygerna replies.

“I mean,” says the king, “whose child are you carrying?”

Queen Ygerna lowers her head.

“Tell me the truth,” Uther says. “Don't be afraid. I won't love you any the less for it.”

Ygerna hesitates. “I will then,” she replies. “The night my husband, Duke Gorlois, died, a man came into my chamber at Tintagel. He looked exactly like Gorlois and spoke like Gorlois. I thought he was Gorlois. My own husband, safe from the siege at Castle Terrible. I opened my arms to him.”

“That is the truth,” says the king. “Ygerna, I was that man.”

“You?”

“I am the father of your child.”

Then I heard Uther tell Ygerna how the hooded man gave him a drug to change his appearance, and took the drug himself so that he would resemble Sir Jordans. At first, Ygerna wept for the loss of Gorlois; then she smiled, in relief…She placed both hands over her baby, and embraced the whole world.

“Our son,” she calls out.

“But I have made a promise,” King Uther says. “I have promised the hooded man I will give him our child to bring up as he wishes.”

“No!” cries Ygerna.

“He will honor our child and our child will bring us honor. I have sworn it by Saint Matthew and Saint Mark, Saint Luke, Saint John.”