spitting of the cats. “Protect me now. Protect your servant.” Even as the words died on his lips, a melody came to him, an old song Prontwon had written based upon a psalm.
Merlin hadn’t tried to memorize it, but the monks had sung it many times. He slid his harp from its bag, and with shaky hands plucked out the melody. His voice rose above the vehemence of the cats.
Yet their hissing grew louder, and their paws crept closer.
Merlin imagined their angry claws digging into his flesh. He drew his harp tighter against his body and continued to play the notes. Flaming his courage with a spark of love for his father, he sang the song with a wavering voice.
A cat landed on each side of his bench, and Merlin flinched. They let forth a terrible screech so that he almost fled — only his commitment to the abbot kept him firm. His heart pounded as they scratched at the wood and splintered its surface like an old bone dug up from a grave.
Owain lay on the grass, rigid and unable to move. Two druidow grabbed his wrists and stretched his arms above his head. They pulled him onto his back and slowly dragged his heavy frame across the grass.
One of the druidow swore. “Why do we get all the lugging jobs? ‘Take him to the Stone,’ the arch druid says, and so we do, but why pick someone as thick-limbed as this lout?”
Owain’s head slung backward, and he saw their heels kick, kick, kick. Finally a heel bashed him in the nose. The blood ran down his cheek and onto his ear. He blinked and through the haze saw the Druid Stone draw closer as they heaved his body forward.
Strangely, Owain felt relief that his struggle would soon be over. Twice before in his life he’d felt this way. The first time he was very young — the day after Whitsuntide when his family had been visiting relatives who lived in a crennig built out on a lake for the natural defense it offered. That day, while playing on the house’s ledge, he’d tripped and sunk into the cold water. He had flailed and kicked, sure, but nothing brought him up to air. He gave up the struggle then too … but why couldn’t he recall the rest of the story anymore?
The druidow dragged him closer to the Stone, and, upside down, he saw another man kneeling with his hands on it. Brioc. Upon his head sat his tricornered leather hat.
As if reacting to Owain’s presence, the Stone raged forth bright blue fire. Brioc yanked his hands away from the Stone and held them before his face.
Owain smelled burning flesh. He closed his eyes and wished his ears were covered too, as Brioc shrieked and ran away.
The druidow dropped Owain’s leaden arms onto the grass. “Get a gander at the Stone,” one said. “Mórganthu’s right that a man should never anger it!”
“Stop gawkin’, fool, and roll this ‘un over. We’ve orders to lay his hands on the Stone.”
Merlin’s jaw trembled as the cats scratched closer, their shrieks so near that his arms felt the spit from their fangs.
But a memory flickered like a candle, brighter than his fear. It was his mother, visiting him where he lay in bed crying from his father’s chastisement. Her oval face bent down to him, framed by her wavy red hair. She smiled and placed her warm hands on his cheeks. He could smell the sweetness of heather on her clothes.
“Merlin, sweet bairn, do ya ken how much Father loves ya? Gruff like a bear he is, but don’t shut yer heart to him. He needs ya! And he desperately loves ya. Always love him.”
Her face faded like a phantom, and in her memory he sang out the last verse of the abbot’s hymn with all his strength. When the song was finished, Merlin called out before the evil assembly of felines, “Begone! In the name of the Lord God of Hosts. In the name of Jesu the Messiah. In the name of the Sanctifying Spirit. Leave this place!” He set down his harp and picked up his staff. Gripping it in the middle, he jerked it left and right to knock the cats off the bench.
But nothing was there.
The howling and manifest switching of their tails faded, and the room became silent. The cats had vanished. The sun shone again through the hole in the ceiling, lighting up Merlin where he’d fallen