Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 47

Ambrosius was sick. Fever gripped him and the court of the king held it's breath. We discovered this as we got back to the palace, and Owain physically blanched, the colour draining from his face and he began to run, rushing through the stone corridors to the king's bedchamber.

The press around the High King's chambers were like an army trying to force a breech, pushing and shoving and spitting at each other as they tried to push into the room. Most of them were priests and it was with delicious horror that I heard the horrific language that was spewing forth from them. None of their curses were as colourful as Merlin's though.

'I'm trying to help the king you shit-spitting, woman-fearing, fuck-weasel.' Merlin's songful tone rang out above the clamour. 'Why don't you go back to preying on novices and let me be about my business.'

For some reason the priests did not take kindly to Merlin's words and they ushered him further from the door, pressing ranks before them and suddenly, in a flash of could and yellow there was a chorus of curses, from the priests and more from Merlin. 'Have it on you then.' Emphatically he scorned them. 'You worthless sons of a poxed hog. Oh, hello boys.' Merlin's tone changed completely as he turned and spotted us staring wide-eyed at the display. He held a large golden goblet in one hand, while behind him the priests shot venomous looks at Merlin's back as they tried to wipe what had presumably been the contents of the goblet from their faces and tonsured heads.

'Is the king through there?' Owain demanded urgently of Merlin.

'Of course he is.' Merlin looked surprised by the question. 'Why else would I be trying to enter his chamber, certainly not to mingle with the entirety of the Powys' priesthood.'

Owain brushed brusquely past Merlin. The priests looked uncertainly at Owain, but impatiently he pushed through them too. 'He cares too much.' Merlin reflected sadly. 'One day those cares will kill him.' He began to walk back down the hallway.

I fell in beside him, knowing there was no point following Owain and that even if I could Ambrosius would not want me there anyway. 'What were you even doing here?' I asked, eying the goblet.

'I brought a healing potion for Ambrosius.' Merlin shrugged as if it were nothing.

'Magic?' I breathed in awe.

'You're almost as stupid as those damned priests.' Merlin cuffed me around the head. 'And to think I taught you. I should hang my head in shame.' He did not though, his head remained held high and cocksure as ever.

'Why were the priests so angry at you then, if it wasn't magic?' I asked, my head stinging like hell where he had hit me. I tried to casually rub where he had struck me so he wouldn't notice it had hurt.

'Because they're imbeciles.' Merlin snapped. 'Because they thought I was bringing pagan magic and wouldn't have it that just because it's an old potion from a time when our people worshipped the old gods, that doesn't mean that it's pagan magic. Some plants and herbs just have healing properties. Nobody knows why. But those ignorant fools think praying is enough. If the king lives or dies, it will be God's will apparently.' He spat derisively on the dirty stones of the floor.

'Wouldn't you prefer him dead?' I teased, though even in jest I dropped my voice. 'You'll probably be chief councillor to Owain when he's king.'

'Of course.' Merlin did not even deign to lower his voice. 'But Owain is nowhere near guaranteed in his succession. No, Ambrosius needs to stay on the throne a while longer yet. Give Owain – and you for that matter – time to make your names something to be feared by foe and friend alike throughout this island of discord and ambition. It is the only way.'

'Will Ambrosius die?' I asked, thoroughly perturbed.

'All men die.' Merlin answered dismissively for a moment, but then acquiesced to answer. 'Will Ambrosius die soon? Likely. But how soon...' He shrugged callously. 'Perhaps if we were allowed to bring him medicines and healing potions, he could last another year.'

'Another year?' I exclaimed, we had just stepped into the main hall and my voice echoed loudly in the stone chambers. I looked around fearfully for a moment before lowering my voice. 'I had not thought it would be a year at the earliest, not latest.' I stared around the room. It was strange but it seemed so much smaller when it was empty, not filled with the priests, soldiers and petitioners to the king.

'Let's just thank our lucky stars you're in Viroconium.' Merlin shrugged. 'It will not do to come late to a council filled with men, older, experienced and ambitious. Owain needs to greet the kings who come to pay respect and vie for power from the seat of the High King, Guinevere beside him, and the two of them looking regal and his tame wolf in sight.' He glanced down at me to see if his mocking barb had stuck.

I smiled sardonically up at Merlin. 'A tame wolf could still rip your throat out.' I pointed out, but then looked around as I saw a man timidly poke his head through the doorway, glancing around left and right as he nervously stepped inside. 'How is Guinevere?' I asked, changing the subject. 'Owain had missed her greatly.' It was not true I knew; he had missed the idea of what he wanted her to be.

Merlin looked knowingly at me. 'She's still only got eyes for one man.' He said lamentably. I looked quizzically at him, wanting to know what he meant but Merlin's voice cracked out. 'You there,' He called at the man who I saw was not a man but a boy of barely fifteen summers. He not only looked nervous but filthy and tired. 'What are you doing? Who even are you?'

'I am a messenger, Lord.' He said, his voice made me smile. It was a Gododdin accent, and it made me think of Elaine. 'I need to see the king. Gododdin has been invaded and it's armies defeated.'