a haunch of freshly killed deer entered Uther’s campaign tent. In no time he had it on a spit over the crackling fire.
Colvarth excused himself, and Merlin spent the next hour conversing with Uther, Igerna, and their daughters about life up on the moor. Eventually the conversation turned to Owain, but Merlin detected a hint of anger lingering in Uther’s voice and changed the topic to the recent appearance of the druidow.
Soon the meat was ready, and Merlin sat before the fire eating roasted venison, whose aroma filled his senses. The bone was so hot, however, that he had to hold it with the edge of his cloak. Eating it brought a warmth that eased the tightness of his stomach, and the grease felt good on his lips.
Nearby, Igerna spoke quietly to her husband. “You drink too much mead, and only on the eve of battle do I see you eat this heartily.”
“A battle? It may be. Colvarth’s prayers will soon be said, and we will hold council about these druidow.”
“And their Stone?”
“Yes.”
“What stone do you mean, Mammu?” Myrgwen asked. “Do you mean the rock you and Tas sat on today?”
“No, Myr, not that one —”
“The black one with the fire,” Eilyne said from beside Merlin. “The one the druidow dragged away after Tas … judged that scofflaw.”
“I didn’t see,” Myrgwen said, and Merlin heard her scraping a bone with her knife.
The whole family ate in silence awhile, except young Arthur, who babbled earnestly as he chewed his own meaty portion.
Even though Merlin knew better, he felt as if everyone must be staring at him and his scars. It was different to eat with a family not his own, especially the High King’s. And Colvarth’s absence only made it worse.
Eilyne broke the silence. “If that man had hurt you, I’d have —”
“Shah.” Igerna said. “Your father took care of it.”
“I’d have run to help with my knife, and —”
“Enough. Let’s not dwell on what might have been.”
Uther raised a hand. “Eilyne, your father was not in danger … but I receive your love, and who knows? One day we may need your protection.”
The tent flap opened once more, and cold rain blew across Merlin’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine.
“Colvarth, welcome!” Uther called. “You must be famished.”
The bard sat on Merlin’s left. “Not so much, my king. My stomach … is delicate tonight.”
“Eating like a bird again?”
“A bird with a … song I would say.” Colvarth’s harp strings hummed as he brought his instrument from beneath his cloak. “But first I have called your … battle chief and his chieftains here, my lord —”
The flap opened yet again, and a group of men entered.
“Merlin, I would like you to meet my war chieftains,” Uther said.
Merlin stood, reached out his hands, and greeted each warrior as he walked by.
“I’m Rewan,” the first said, and his hands tapped Merlin’s briefly before he walked on.
“I am named Bedwir, friend,” the second said, shaking Merlin’s hands.
“Sydnius, from the moor originally,” said the third, and his hands were thick and strong.
“Vortipor,” said the last as his wiry hands squeezed hard. A little too hard.
Eilyne and Myrgwen moved closer to Merlin to make room for the men, who found seats around the fire. While Merlin and the family hastily finished their meal, the men chatted about a score of flopping fish some warriors had just caught using a boat from the village.
“Did you see Sethek spear ‘em?” Bedwir asked. “He’s promised to smoke one for me.”
Sydnius burped. “Ah … been a long time since I’ve smacked lips with a good fish.”
“Vortipor,” Uther interrupted, “how long till your father comes?”
“Uh … I think he gets water down at the lake, my lord.”
Uther stood and began pacing. “Does anyone know if he received the summons?”
“Yes, my lord,” Vortipor said.
Uther swore. “Then where is he? A council of war, and my battle chief is fetching water?”
“My king?” Colvarth said. “I suggest we begin and … test his thoughts when he comes.”
“Obviously we have no choice. Daughters, time for you both to go.”
“It’s raining outside, my love,” Igerna said gently. “Couldn’t they stay in the tent? The girls won’t bother anyone if they sit out of the circle.”
“Please, Father,” Eilyne said.
“Yes, please,” Myrgwen echoed.
Uther stopped pacing and considered. “One interruption, and you will have to leave.” He sat down next to his wife. “So, with Vortigern gone, my war chieftains will have first voice. What think you of our situation?”
Rewan spoke, flipping a gleaming knife in the air and