“Garth’s bagpipe … in the house … traded for it with the merchant … Needed his horse … reshod … It’s in a basket near the grain … Unfair Tregeagle forced it … to be sold. You —”
“No! You give it to Garth. You’ll get better!”
But Owain wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes viewed the stormy sky, and the deep lines of his face relaxed. “I see family … friends … kin … my clan … beckon from a feasting hall … high in the mountains.”
“Who? Who do you see?”
“My younger brother … he’s there. My mother, she stands so straight now. But” — his bloody brow furrowed — “Gwev’s not there.”
Merlin choked on a sob. “Mother’s not there?”
“No, but I go … my father so tall … strong … He holds for me the welcome cup.”
“Tas!”
“Love you … son.” With those last words, his eyes dulled, and Merlin felt his father’s heart flutter to a stop.
“Tas!” Merlin pounded the ground with his fists, and his whole body shook in great sobs. He lifted his father, now limp, and tried to sit him up. He listened at his father’s chest and raised his head only to have it fall back down into his cradling, shaking embrace.
Natalenya put her arms around Merlin, but her consolation was interrupted by the screaming of a woman who ran toward them. “O-wain!”
Mônda. Her hair was unkempt, and her sunken eyes were gripped with fear. Her left arm puffed out of her sleeve with a scabrous infection.
Merlin’s sister, Ganieda, wasn’t far behind. She stared in disbelief at the bloody scene of their father’s death.
Mônda kissed her dead husband’s cheek until her lips were covered in blood. “No, you are mine!” she cried. “You can’t die.” She clawed her broken fingernails through her hair, then standing, she shrieked and ran off into the darkness.
Ganieda grabbed Merlin’s sleeve and shook him. Her face contorted and her lips trembled. “You destroyed our family. I hate you. I will hate you forever!”
And she dashed away after her mother.
CHAPTER 37
THE SURRENDERED LIFE
The flames from the smithy roared upward, and cinders had landed on the thatch of his family’s crennig, lighting it on fire. Merlin wiped the tears from his eyes and squeezed Natalenya’s hand. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He ran toward the house.
Natalenya picked up his walking stick. “Merlin! You forgot your staff —”
“I don’t need it.” He hurled himself through the doorway. For the first time in seven years, he saw his family’s home, but there was no time to tarry. He hurried to the back of the house where his family kept baskets for keeping grain and other things, throwing lids to the side. But he couldn’t find the bagpipe.
In the corner lay an uncovered basket with a chicken nestled on top, and Merlin ran toward it in desperation. The bird squawked as he shooed it away, and underneath lay Garth’s bagpipe in an open woolen sack. It seemed like years since Merlin and his father had spoken of the bagpipe as Garth’s only memory of his dead father.
Now Merlin was an orphan as well, and what memory would he treasure? Smoke leaked into the house, and flames shot through the thatch.
He had to choose, and fast.
Sprinting to the wall by the table, he selected his father’s personal long sword, one of better quality that his father prized. The cross-guard was of braided iron in the shape of ox horns, and its tapered blade made singing arcs when slashed through the air. With Uther’s blade now embedded in the Stone, Merlin would need a serious weapon to protect himself. And his dirk could be put to better use.
Next he grabbed his harp from its peg near the table and slung it over his shoulder. From there he spied one of his father’s rings sitting near a pot of stale goat milk and took it. He had felt it many times on his father’s left hand, though it was but a simple thing of cast pewter with a small white stone.
The room was now half filled with smoke. Ducking over to the hearth, Merlin pried a stone from the floor and snatched a bag of coins from his father’s hiding spot. He rushed out the door and into the fresh air just as the roof timbers caught fire. Before looping the longsword’s scabbard onto his belt, he slid off his dirk and held it out to Natalenya. She stood, and Merlin looked