poor Musca. I hunger and eat the flesh of evil birds, chew the foul frog from its hole. Thirst and drink water where the rooted rushes seize the clay. Suffer cold, and the banks of the sun-bit bog bring fire for my hearth. Poor Arvel needs naught but what Christ provides!”
Natalenya tapped Merlin’s shoulder. “Let’s leave.”
“Wait,” Merlin answered. Muscarvel had some reason for coming. “If you need nothing, Arvel, tell us why you’re here.”
“Poor Musca has naught but what my Father above has given. This I nurtured and shaped for you through long years of cold and heat, biting flies and sliming mud. This I give to you, great lord, that the weight of its angry darkness may be gone from my soul.”
What had Muscarvel said? He was crazy to think that Merlin was a lord.
Muscarvel fell prostrate on the dock, reached between Merlin’s feet, and grasped the blade of his own sword, stuck there in the wood. With halting words he shouted:
Seventy years — have flown and wore
Since Dragon Star — fell on the moor.
I saw this thing — come down and roar.
Then I was young — in days of yore.
I will not see — this strange tale spend,
Nor see it twist — waylay and wend.
But though you grieve — and cannot mend,
Yet you will see — the utter end.
The gory past — or so ‘tis said,
Will cut afresh — and dagger bled.
Make victims drown — in their blood red,
And strike bright world — turn on its head.
The cock will crow — to moon and soar,
The mouse in greed — brings forth a roar,
The boar be caught — by apple core.
And hammer strike — the anvil tor.
He trembled as he raised his voice still louder:
The grave will gaze — from its pale bed,
As ash will birth — the dagger dread.
The wren so young — with darken’d head,
Will caw death chant — and evil wed.
Upon high hill — in fortress fast,
The hawk will fail — to heed the past.
Land of all night — hold on to mast,
For altar’s foe — trust Christ at last.
The bear will charge — with steel claw free
‘Gainst hoary swell — of peoples be.
All things will lose — and dead the tree,
Lest wisdom to — he bend the knee.
Hell dog will dark — the sun’s bright face.
The beast will rise — from secret place.
All men will flee — to water trace,
Till sword and spear — with prayer grace.
The beast will bring — forth fetid birth,
And bear will scratch — and prove his worth.
But land will not — have new its mirth,
Till red-leg crow — be brought to earth.
The black tomb of — snake’s winter sleep,
Bring forth the dead — from cavern deep.
Then evil foes — come out and creep,
Drive off the hawk — to danger keep.
Muscarvel clambered up with his rags flapping, and their green reek smote Merlin. The man grabbed Merlin’s hands. He had the grip of a biting turtle, yet his fingers were so thin.
He shook as if an invisible creature tore his back. The final words came out in agony:
When hope is lost — and foes a throng,
When jaws be sharp — and claws are strong,
When thralled the men — and all is wrong,
Recall thy gift — to sing bard’s song.
For three must seek — and prize the pure,
That has been lost — in bleak azure.
Go find and seek — but ware the lure.
Take narrow way — when none is sure.
And at the end — death’s head will rise,
Kill, take, covet — fill ears with lies.
Pure love will doubt — take all as guise,
Ere noble one—gives up his prize.
Then red-leg crow — at last will kill,
To take and steal — and veil with skill.
And hence the tale — shall wait until
The chosen ones — their call fulfill.
Muscarvel’s words fell away from him in the grief of tears. As he spoke again, a calmness, if not a saneness, returned to his voice. “Great lord, besides a few final tasks, I am now free. But you … you shall bear these words as a dark burden until your death. I merely carried them. You must live them.”
A shiver ran through Merlin. The man was mad — but nonsense though his words sounded, he said them with such sincerity and conviction that they somehow rang true. Why had Muscarvel spoken these words to him?
Natalenya, now holding Merlin’s arm, whispered in his ear. “He’s crying as he pulls something from a moldy pouch. Oh, Merlin, it’s beautiful.”
Merlin could see the gleam of gold in the man’s hands.
“Great