Part Two - The Mask in the Mist.
I was there.
When magick made a bridge of mist and a prince's seed made an unborn king, I Maer Maerlyn was there, a petty dabbling sorcerer stealing love like a thief.
After the solstice and ceremony of the Sun, when Nym Nymue was made consort and queen, the Lady went her way and I the Maerlyn went mine. Both our paths ran through the land, spiralled and straight, hers and mine, collecting legiances and curses. We did not happen upon each other many times, she serving the Goddess her way and me doing service mine. The Sisters in the Isle of Glas learned both our songs and collected news, so we knew what each the other did, but our paths seldom crossed.
In truth, Nymue's white purity frightened me yet bewitched me too. I might wish the forty years between us gone, but the Goddess never wheels the stars backwards, only forwards. I looked upon Nym Nymue when I saw her and had to turn away in torment and despair. Even I cannot sorcer a new face for these old bones, it cannot be done; and besides, who would do it?
I lie. I would be the very first to reverse my time if I could, if I could lie every night with Nymue, with a face that pleased her. I would do it, if I could. By the Goddess, there is something about the girl that reaches right into my guts and grips me there, twisting my belly like a silly boy seeing a sweet girl the first ever time. I turn stupid when I see her, so make sure I keep away as best I can. The land does not need another dolt, there are plenty enough of those in chapels and monasteries as it is.
In time, I found myself useful in making stratagems and plans down on the long peninsula, where Moors come up from Iber and Afriq, sailing their ocean ships bringing silks and spices brought across the long Atlant. Their trade made the tribes and kings down south grow strong, and their new wealth struck jealousy into olden reigns further north, living poor on turnips.
So fights and battles began, camps in high places became forts with bankments, ancient harbours were dug deeper for larger vessels. Warriors and fools circled around the land, legiances grew strong, fell weak, scattered, and rose again. Daughters and sons made dynasties and disasters, barren brides and fecund sons, bastards became princes and kings begat kings. I became Maerlyn the engineer, building fortresses impregnable made of stone and rock instead of thatch and wood. I made defences with a rare skill, and none so great as the fortress by the sea they called Tyntangel. The Gorloys Duke lived there and his Lady Ygraine, by the sea. They hearkened both to me and took my wisdom and advice.
And my diplomacy! Yeay by the Goddess I had a smooth tongue, layering bedazzlement and charm by equal measure, convincing this court and that to combine their armies, choose their arms and legiances together. I even convinced some fool bishop or other, I cannot remember his credulous name, to twice tithe his church monies to Gorloys, and he to grow stronger for it. So I, Maer Maerlyn, embedded mine self in Gorloys' court and knew the people there.
Midwives came and delivered of Ygraine a daughter, Morgayse who was first born and Gorloys' first daughter. And ten years on, a second child Morgayne did fret and cry upon the tit, who was the second daughter, but no son born.
Morgayse was a daughter like unto her mother, tall and fair even as a maid. Morgayne was contrary, small and dark and fey, a tiny child sitting with darkness in her eyes, watching, watching, watching all the time. Of this time I now tell, she crawled along in her swaddling clothes and still could not speak. But watching, oh yes, those little black eyes; hell's mouth might have spawned the imp. I was nervous around the child and no friends with her. Her little black eyes, they saw too much. Morgayne of the night, born in the darkest dark of the moon when the candle guttered and the midwife wiped the caul away that nobody might see.
Ygraine now, oh yes, she was a woman worth keeping away from other men in the high halls of Tyntangel's keep, circled nearly all around by sea and high cliffs. Ygraine now, yes. A strapping tall woman, with a great mane of waved golden hair and splendid thighs, long and firm. I magined her grip and her strongness. Yeay, she was a beauty, truly. Gorloys was ever jealous and tried always to hide his wife away, but the Lady Ygraine would not comply and did not obey him.
Princes came to the court to make treat with the Duke and to pledge legiance and horse for his campaigns, for Gorloys made excellent command. With the assist of my devious strategy, more forces joined the Duke's legions and made win upon northern and eastern losers and knaves, and his kingdom was made. But no sons for the kingdom to keep.
The princes looked upon Ygraine secretly and lusted. She made no shame and would dance with them, flagrantly. She was Gorloys' cursed wife, but ah, her sweet blue eyes kept such false innocence. Ygraine thought she was not barren of boys. Her belief it was the Duke who made bed with her and brought only girls. Ygraine looked with delight at the young princes and scoundrels who came to her husband's court, and thought upon her loins she could get a man to fuck who made men, not girls.
Gorloys knew this and bade her locked away. She fought upon and rattled the door, but was well guarded by his trusted legion, true aye to the Duke. Ygraine and her women, the Duke and his men. 'Twould be a brave man to step between, or foolish.
There soon came to the Duke's court a powerful prince, Uthur by birth, pen Dragen by standard and flag, a great commander and captain of men. I was intrigued by his standard, and remembered back to the dragen let loose from the mountain afar to the east and the cataclysm on the earth. I wondered at the man arrogant enough to fly that flag, and made to watch upon him. I made a pledge too, to discover Uthur's advisor, for any man so audacious would indeed be well advised. I wondered how I did not know of this man before now, for common enough, I Maer Maerlyn should be that advice.
This Uthur took one look at the fair Ygraine and was smitten, that I could see. He wanted her plain, and his look was more than politick, it was lust, straight and simple. Her to wrap those legs and firm thighs about his waist, for to fuck the Lady Ygraine? He would make battle, I thought, and fight Gorloys even as he supped with the Duke and drank his cup. Love's traitor then, the ancient game. I would look upon it only, 'twould be a foolish man to step between, or brave.
* * * *
"Maerlyn, do you skulk and watch from behind the kitchen door, like a servant child or some malodorous cook, making unto men poisons and soporifics?"
By the Goddess, what? What jest is this, who speaks to me with a contempt, but so familiar yet?
"Oh Maerlyn, have you forgot, your favourite sister's daughter's voice? I'm sad, that I am forgot so soon." Her voice was light and lyrical, a gentle teasing croon.
Oh Goddess, I was not prepared for this, not her. I turned slowly and looked upon the Lady, the white Nym Nymue, and even then was smit. She looked up at me, fond indulgence in her eyes, and she knew. She knew this old man was bewitched by her and could not get away, did not want to run, could not even if he tried.
"What witchery, Nymue, what witchery do you bring?" My mind, though struck by surprise, was seldom slow to grip and grasp at truths and lies; and I saw before me the pen Dragen's advice, that by superior strategy would assist. This man Uthur, then, must truly be a new and huge force upon the land, that Nymue would cleave to him and give him words. The Lady did not dabble foolish, so it followed she sought me here, deliberately. "I am found for your strategy then?" I asked.
