Ides of the May (Children of the May 2 - updates weekly)

Chapter Twenty-One: A Theory of Miracles, a Tangle of Prophecy (part two)

Epicene took me to a small room with a view over the sea, which she had been using as a study. She had assembled a collection of books and scrolls, the Magikos prominent among them. I was unsure why that Norma had also joined us, along with Christian, who was running around in circles, with immense concentration on his face. The ancient nursemaid had an impassive look about her, only smiling when the child caught her eye.

‘We must be quick, water-mage,’ said Epicene, who stood behind the table, looking for a particular paper. ‘Since you sent Brunor with word of when happened to Garnish, Norma and I have spent many hours working out precisely what changes Merlin has made to the Spear of Longius. Petal is correct, Mordred brings Lamorak to Orkney in the hope that we can take the spear, yes?’

I nodded.

‘Good. We have a plan, Norma and I, which you need to know too. It is important that all three of us are aware of the plan in case something happens to one of us.’

‘Norma’s been helping you?’ I said incredulously. Epicene nodded, though she was unsure why I was surprised. And then the sliver of a thought I’d had on the road returned to me. ‘So that’s why I can’t sense your magic, Epicene – either of your magics.’ The nursemaid frowned at me. ‘The two of you have harmonised to conceal your powers, just like Lady Bertilak and the fragment of Merlin on Avalon.’

‘Goodness me,’ sighed Norma. ‘He’s very slow on the uptake. Are you sure it’s worth involving him, Epicene?’

‘That is correct, Drift,’ said the fire-sorcerer, ignoring the old woman’s nasty jab at me. ‘Now, there is some guesswork involved in our findings, though Norma has been in the presence of the spear when it was still in place at Castle Spar-Longius, so we have some idea of the nature of the thing. It is not, strictly speaking, a magical artifact, but a miraculous one. It is a fine very difference, but where magic is concerned with transformation, miracles deal in creation.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

‘You don’t need to,’ sighed Norma.

Epicene went on: ‘From Brunor’s description of what happened to Garnish, we believe that Merlin has corrupted the miraculous powers of the spear with his own magics. It used to be the case that the spear imbued whatever it pierced with extraordinary power – such as the stones it held in place as the castle on the red rock. But Merlin has altered it so that any power within the thing it stabs transfers to him, in the form of a spark or ball of light. The spear will be slaved to Merlin until we can cleanse it of his magic.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘First we need to get our hands on it,’ said Norma.

‘When Mordred brings Sir Lamorak we will ambush him, take the spear, and cleanse it of Merlin’s corruption.’

‘It’s going to be that easy?’ I said. ‘You’re going to take the spear from one of the fiercest knights in Britain just like that?’

Epicene bowed her head. ‘With our combined strength, three against one... the chances are good. We will do as we did that last day on Avalon – surprise him with a single projectile made of our combined magics.’

‘In King Lot’s great hall,’ said Norma. ‘Stop that, Galahad.’

I winced when she said that name. Christian had stopped running, and was now pawing at his nurse’s leg. She gently removed his hands and brought him up onto her knee. ‘Mama,’ he said. I supposed it was easy for a child to confuse that word with ‘Norma.’

‘Hopefully we will all three be able to attack him at once,’ said Epicene, ‘but if he snares one, the task will be left to the other two. When we succeed, you need to know what happens next.’ She handed me a small scroll. I opened it, and discovered it contained paragraphs in several different languages, few of which I could read. ‘Keep this in a safe place,’ she said. ‘If anything should happen to Norma and me, and the spear falls into your hands, then you must take the weapon and the scroll to the Cave of the Dragon, south of the Roman wall, and show the paper to the five wise men and women you will find there. My father will be among them. Tell him the fate that has befallen me.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Your father’s in the Cave of the Dragon?’

Norma snorted, amused by my ignorance.

‘The cave is not one place, but six in one,’ Epicene explained. ‘It is the fiery mountain, and an ice cathedral in the northern wastes, and a swamp in the far, far west, where no person from our parts of the world has stepped in many thousands of years. The cave and its brothers and sisters are the source of all magic in the world, at once the same place and distinct. In entering one, you enter them all. The scroll I have given you warns the custodians of all the caves of the danger Merlin poses, of his insatiable greed for the world’s magic. It asks them to join with you in ridding the spear of Merlin’s taint, and to put the weapon back in our hands to use against him. It may be a long and difficult task, undoing Merlin’s stamp on the spear, but I have faith that with the aid of the custodians of the caves any of us here can accomplish the task.’

Norma snorted. Her ancient eyes regarded me as if I was nothing. She didn’t believe that I would be able to finish the job. Though I was uncertain that I would be able to do as Epicene said, I had only the inkling of an idea why the nursemaid had such a low opinion of me.

‘What should I do with the spear when it’s free of Merlin?’ I asked Epicene.

‘Take it as quickly as you can to one of our warriors: to Melwas or Mordred, Agravaine, John of the Marsh, King Lot. Tell them that with the spear, and only with the spear, will they be able to destroy Merlin.’

Christian wriggled out of Norma’s arms, and toddled across the floor towards me. He placed his hands on my knees and looked up at me, as if I were a complicated book. I smiled and ruffled his curly hair. He really was a very pretty lad. I put my finger to his smooth cheek to check if he really did have a mole by his left eye like Sir Lancelot, and not just a particularly persistent speck of food or dirt. The lad slapped my hand away from him and giggled; it seemed we had invented a game in which I moved my hand towards his face and he pressed it away. As we played I looked to Epicene and Norma.

‘I heard a prophecy of Merlin’s,’ I said to them, as I smiled down at Christian, who was hugely enjoying the power he seemed to wield over my adult-sized hand.

‘Go on, water-mage,’ said Epicene.

‘He prophesied three deaths for someone named Galahad: the first by the cup, the second by a kiss, the third by a cut to the core.’ I lifted Christian up, but he would not sit on my knee as he had for Norma. Rather, he stood up on my thighs facing me, pulling at my hair in handfuls. ‘Norma, you call this one Galahad, and so did Hilda the Hermitess. Epicene, I told you what Hilda said about Galahad saving us all. Hilda was right about other things too...’ Queen Morgawse’s story confirmed Hilda’s words about Mordred: the hermitess had called him a child of Camelot and the northern seas. Morgawse was the north, and Arthur Camelot. ‘Only, Merlin gave the prophecy about another child who was called Galahad when he was born, but has been known by a different name ever since. My question is... oh, Lord Jesus, I don’t know what my question is; it’s too complicated for me.’

‘You ask to which of these Galahads the prophecy applies,’ said Epicene.

Norma stood, took Christian from me. As ever, I was surprised by how straight the old woman stood, how painlessly she seemed to walk, with none of aches normally suffered by those of extreme years. But in the moments since I had told them of Merlin’s prophecy Norma’s whole aspect had changed from serenity to fear. She snatched Christian away from me, and he started to cry at the interruption of our game. I looked at the old woman’s anguish, and, slowly, many things I had been told, and others I had observed, fully came together in my mind. But before I could properly comprehend the meaning of this new unity, we were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

‘Come,’ said Epicene.

The door opened. It was Gaheris. ‘Word from the south lookout, Princess Epicene. A boat has left the mainland. One man standing in it, holding a spear aloft. It’s Sir Lamorak de Galis. The boat uses neither sail nor oar, but seems to be propelled by some invisible hand.’

I felt sick, but Epicene stood quite calmly. She brushed imaginary motes of dust from her immaculate gown. She seemed satisfied. ‘Then it will be now,’ she said.