this,” Mórganthu shot back, “is a lying spirit who bewitches you all. Break the spell that chokes your life! Throw off the puny god of these little monks and their cross.”
“The cross is for the forgiveness of our sins.”
Flourishing his staff, Mórganthu pointed at Prontwon. “And do you know, O people, what this sin of your abbot is?”
Prontwon stepped back, paused a moment, then replied, “Go ahead. Tell them. It matters not.”
“Hah. It does matter.” Marching over, Mórganthu grabbed Prontwon’s right arm and ripped the sleeve all the way to the shoulder.
“Tattoos!” Ganieda said. “Drawn on his arm. There’s a snake with the horns of a goat. The symbols of the druidow.”
Merlin held his breath. Had he heard right?
Mórganthu lifted his voice in victory. “It matters, I say. For the sin your abbot committed is that he, yes he, was a druid!”
The druidow snickered as the villagers fell silent.
“It is true,” Prontwon said. “I was young. And foolish.”
“Wrong! Wise beyond your years. My brother taught you, and you ate each word as if you were a starving bird.”
“And in my hunger, I did not see clearly.”
“Then how can you be trusted now?” Mórganthu jabbed the bottom of his staff down.
The abbot cried out, wrenched his foot free, and then limped backward. “Jesu opened my eyes, and I saw for the first time my need.”
Mórganthu shouted so that it echoed off the rock walls of the village green. “A fool and the follower of a fool. Leave this Jesu!”
Prontwon turned to the people and implored them with raised hands. “Do not deny Jesu your Lord. What benefit did we ever receive from following these gods?”
“Benefit indeed,” Mórganthu mocked. “All they have received from Jesu is slavery to the churchmen from Erin, slavery to their worthless writings, and slavery to the Roman army.”
Prontwon lifted his head and stood as tall as he could. “The Word of God is priceless —”
Mórganthu’s form forced him backward. “The writings of these monks are from the dead lands of the East, foreign and not to be trusted.” His voice boomed from deep in his chest. “British ways for the Britons! … Away with the foreigners!”
All the druidow shouted with Mórganthu, stomping their feet and banging together anything that would make noise.
“Look, the old monk is shouting too, but I can’t hear him.” Ganieda laughed. “The villagers look funny covering their ears.”
“British ways for Britons. Away with foreigners!”
Ganieda’s voice rose higher. “That geezer of an abbot’s climbing on top of the druid’s rock. He’s cupping his hands around his mouth.”
“People, hear me —”
But Mórganthu struck the side of the Stone with his staff, and blue fire burst forth.
“The monk’s legs are on fire!” Ganieda said. “You should see his face — all red, and his eyes are bulging.”
Prontwon crumpled forward and fell off the Stone.
Merlin’s heart hammered in his chest. Prontwon was on his knees, the blue light of the Stone dancing upon him. Brown-robed monks ran forward and put their hands under and onto the abbot, appearing to whisper prayers as the noise subsided.
Mórganthu declared to the people, “You see! You see for yourselves that the judgment of Belornos is upon him. He dared desecrate the Stone and is now struck down!”
Merlin could stand no more. “Stay here,” he told Ganieda. He shoved his way through the crowd and broke into the center of the circle. The shadow of a tall man stood in front of the dying light of the bonfire and the weird blue flames of the Stone.
“Now, I ask once again,” Mórganthu called. “Who will be the first to join us?”
A voice, young but firm, answered from the crowd. “I’ll join.” Someone short, dressed in a brown robe, stepped into the ring. “If you’ll have me.”
It was Garth.
“No!” Merlin yelled as he sprang forward and swung his staff at the dark figure of Mórganthu.
PART TWO
SHACKLE’S POWER
SWIFT AS THE MOON THE WHITE STAG RUNNING,
FLEET AS THE OWL THE HUNTER HUNTING,
SHARP AS THE CLAW THE SWIFT SPEAR STRIKING,
RED AS THE SUN THE FRESH LIFE FLOWING,
LEAVED IN GREEN, THERE ALL BRITAIN DIES.
CHAPTER 10
STRANGE MEETINGS
Merlin opened his eyes to see deep forest.
As his sight adjusted, he could clearly make out the details of his surroundings. He broke off an oak leaf and studied it in the low light that filtered through the trees.
Was it morning or evening? A vision or a dream?
Far off in the distance echoed the sound of someone sobbing.
He stood up from the grassy bower and scanned the trees in the direction of the