Merlin's Harp Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  A Counsel Oak Leaf Song

  1

  2

  A Merlin Song

  3

  4

  5

  6

  A Merlin Song

  7

  8

  9

  10

  A Merlin Song

  11

  12

  A Merlin Song

  13

  A Counsel Oak Leaf Song

  14

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 1995, 2010 by Anne Eliot Crompton

  Cover and internal design © 2010 by Sourcebooks, Inc. Cover design by The Book Designers

  Cover images © coka/Shutterstock; Margo Harrison/Shutterstock

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Crompton, Anne Eliot. Merlin's harp / Anne Eliot Crompton.

  p. cm. Summary: Niviene, the daughter of the Lady of the Lake, recounts her life as a member of the Fey, sister of the knight who would be known as Lancelot, and student of Merlin as she discovers her destiny at the court of King Arthur. [1. Fairies—Fiction. 2. Merlin (Legendary character)—Fiction. 3. Lancelot (Legendary character)—Fiction. 4. Arthur, King—Fiction. 5. Lady of the Lake (Legendary character)—Fiction. 6. Grail—Fiction. 7. Great Britain—History—To 1066—Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.C879Mer 2010 [Fic]—dc22

  2009035980

  Geoffrey Ashe, in his book The Discovery of King Arthur, suggests that the reason the historian Gildas never mentioned King Arthur by name was that Arthur had robbed Christian monasteries for his war chests. (Gildas wrote judgmental history.) This exciting theory became a pillar of Merlin's Harp.

  —Anne Eliot Crompton

  A Counsel Oak Leaf Song

  Water rising under rock

  Breaks earth's lock,

  Floods thirsty roots,

  Nurtures sap and trunk and shoots,

  Greens and plumps each greedy leaf

  Till dappled sunlight like a thief

  Sucks leaf-water as I breathe,

  Makes of mist an airy wreath

  To drift and float and wander high

  To the sky,

  And fall again,

  Sweet, rich rain,

  Run under rock and

  Rise again.

  1

  Merlin's Harp

  When I was yet a very young woman I threw my heart away.

  I fashioned a wee coracle of leaf and willow twig and reed, a coracle that sat in the hollow of my two palms. In this I placed my wounded, wretched heart, and I set it adrift on the rain-misted wavelets of the Fey river, and I watched it bob and whirl, sail and sink. Ever since then I have lived heartless, or almost heartless, cold as spring rain, the way Humans think all Fey live. Humans I have known would be astounded to learn that I ever had a heart that leapt, brightened, fainted, quickened, warmed, embraced, froze, or rejected, like their own.

  I grew up in a strangely Human way in a home, with a sort of family. My mother Nimway, my brother Lugh, and I lived in Lady Villa on Apple Island, which Human bards have named Avalon. I say we "lived" there. Most nights we slept within the villa walls. We cooked many a meal over the stone circle fireplace in the villa courtyard. When we sought each others' company we looked in the villa, in certain of the old rooms, a special room for each of us. My mother's room had faded waves painted on its walls, and strange, leaping fish, such as we never caught in the Fey lake. My small room was painted about with vines—unlike those that clung to and camouflaged the villa walls—and clusters of purple fruits. Because of these pictures, Lugh and I always believed that there were worlds beyond the Fey forest, where mysterious creatures lived. Few Fey children grow up knowing that.

  Like other children, I went away to join the Children's Guard as soon as I could care for myself. But unlike other children, I remembered the villa as my home, I remembered the Lady, my mother, and I always knew that Lugh, the big, pale boy who often stood guard with me, was my born brother. We had sucked the same breasts and learned to walk on the same cool, tiled floor. We were special to each other, as no other two children were.

  And though I never said so till our Guard time ended, and then only to my best friend, Elana, I always knew that when I grew up and left the Guard I would go home.

  The villa grew about us and entwined our lives as vines entwined the villa. Apple Island held us apart from mainland Fey forest and our silent Fey neighbors. Living on the mainland we would have glimpsed neighbors from afar, as we glimpse other wild creatures; by slow, easy approaches we would have come to know many of them by name, and some as friends. But the lake trapped us, for the most part, with each other.

  Living like this, as in a Human family, I grew an almost Humanlike heart. This was a deformity. Even on the bright spring morning when I climbed Counsel Oak with my best friend Elana, I knew I could not live much longer with this heart.

  The Lady, who knew so much, must have known I had it.

  Elana knew. She did not mind because she had a heart too. In truth, hers was bigger and warmer than mine, and fast growing desperate. I could have had no notion how desperate, for such intensity had no precursor in our Fey world.

  Counsel Oak towers over all the apple trees of Avalon. At that time his massive trunk yawned half-open where it had been split by a bolt from heaven long ago. A lesser tree would have drooped and dropped and given back its life to the Goddess. But the young oak that we would call Counsel reared on up, seeking the sun.

  Up we climbed, Elana and I, from huge branch to smaller branch, past new leaf and mistletoe, through thrush song and warbler flight. A few days before we had left the Children's Guard at last, still wrapped in the "invisible" cloaks in which Guards spy from treetop and thicket on the Human kingdom beyond our forest. We had lingered a bit, building shelters and scavenging. Then I had said to Elana, "Come home with me." And Elana had come.

  I perched now in the highest crotch that would bear my very slight weight. Elana settled lower, for she was a big girl; she carried real weight. Together we looked out over all of Apple Island, and the Fey lake with its dark, encircling forest, and the small, shimmering streams that fed the lake, and the wide river that flowed away east to the kingdom.

  Uncounted white-blooming apple trees crowded the island below us. The trees hid Avalon's two dwelling dens, but I knew where they were. Otter Mellias's newly built cabin stood on stilts over the water on the east shore. Lady Villa crouched among willows on the west shore. Had we climbed Counsel Oak in times long past we could have seen the villa from here. It would have shone out at us, dazzled us, white stone among bright gardens. We might have seen giant, Human figures like those painted on the villa walls stride across the courtyard, or talk beside the fountain. The fountain spat water back then, so the Lady said.

  Elana whistled like a blackbird. I looked down and saw her raise plump hands
in silent sign-talk. She signed, Listen to the leaves.

  I had told her that Counsel's rustling leaves gave advice. So the Lady said. Now I listened to the leaves, but heard no words. I shrugged.

  Elana looked sadly up at me, her round face white as the apple blossoms below. Her red-brown braid lay against a bough like sunspattered bark. She signed, Ask! Ask the Oak: will he notice me now?

  I signed down, Who? Will who notice you?

  Almost frantically, He! The one I long for!

  I sighed. We had discussed this "one" before now. I believed my friend must be bewitched, like a Human heroine in some bardic song. In all the forest there was only one for her. If he lay with her, then she would bloom like spring. If he scorned her, she feared to wilt clean away. Meantime, she had lain with no one, not ever, not even at the Flowering Moon dances, though we were both now blood-blessed by the Goddess. The same was true of me, but for no such weird reason.

  Again I listened to the wind in Counsel's leaves; and this time I thought I heard a distant whisper. Down.

  I signed to Elana, Down. That's all the leaves say. Down.

  Listen again, Niviene!

  Listening once more, I thought I heard, Maiden. Down.

  And then soft, far voices sang together,

  Maiden, look down.

  Look down, Maiden.

  Down, down,

  Adownderry, look down.

  So it was true, what the Lady said! Counsel Oak's leaves gave counsel. But he told us what he wished us to know, not what we asked. I leaned over and around and looked down through leaves and mistletoe. And down there among the ancient apple trees, I saw a shining mystery.

  It stood tall alone by itself, as no Fey would ever stand. Disdaining shielding shadow, it gleamed in full sunshine, obvious as a tree—or as a Human, who thinks his own kind kings of the world.

  Once I had seen a red stag stand like that, careless and proud; and his summer coat had shone with that same bronze tint. The East Edge Children's Guard had feasted on him for days and days.

  I twirled my "invisible" cloak around me and started down the oak, hand under hand. I passed Elana lifting her fingers to ask What? Where? and slipped down the trunk like a shadow. Above me I heard the soft shifting of Elana's weight as she followed. Dropping to earth I slunk, crouching, from one gray-green trunk to the next, snuffling up hints like a vixen. My nose soon told me that was no stag ahead. I smelled smoke, dust, a body washed seldom, and certainly not recently. A body fed on meat. I paused behind an alder thicket and peered through.

  Against an apple trunk leaned a very tall, very pale maiden. Her height was surprising, and so was her skin: milk white, like Elana's, and gold freckled. She raised a thin, empty face to the sky. One of her hip-length bronze braids had fallen loose. The other was still held by a shiny red ribbon, which wound around and down its length.

  I saw only her radiance. Forgetting all sense and the strong testimony of my nose, I thought, Here is the Goddess herself! In that unforgettable moment I felt what Humans feel when they glimpse one of us. I shrank together. Mouth dry, hair stiff, I crouched beneath her pale gaze, still as hare beneath circling hawk. Since then, because of that unforgotten moment, I have dealt gently with many an innocent Human.

  Elana's breath blew hot on my neck. At least I did not face the Goddess alone! One of my kind breathed on me and gripped my shoulder with a slightly shaking, heavy hand.

  My friend Elana was bigger, heavier, than I was, but not stronger. Elana had no sliver, no crumb or morsel of magic in all her awkward body or childish mind. I crouched between her and the Goddess. I felt I must protect her from the Goddess. She was my friend. I had to face the Goddess for both of us.

  I collected my mind, snatched back some sense, paid heed to my nose. I noticed that the Goddess's white tunic, which should shine like the sun, was deeply soil-grimed. Her overgown, wondrously blue and richly embroidered, was bramble-shredded, her slender white wrists bramble-blooded. I saw by her wide, vague eyes that she was heavily drugged. Dirt! said my nose, Meat! Mead! Grand Mushroom! A great breath of relief filled my lungs. This was no Goddess.

  Then, what was it?

  A female Human, that's what it was. A Human, naturally taller than myself, but not much older; thin, drugged, unarmed. Not so much as a knife poked out of her brightly embroidered girdle. Her freckled hands hung, helpless.

  A female Human stood under the blooming trees of Apple Island, where no Human foot had trod since the Romans went away (so said the Lady). And I, young Niviene, recently a Child Guard, had found her! What would the Lady do if she crouched in my place?

  I rose up and walked around the alders. Behind me, Elana gasped. Calmly I approached the prey till my nose nearly touched her breast. Calmly I looked up into her rain gray eyes. I said, "Woman, what are you doing here?"

  Her eyes widened. The pupils nearly covered the iris. She had feasted richly on Grand Mushroom—or, more likely, someone had feasted her. Slowly she drew herself up to her full, impressive height and spoke strange words. They rustled past me like the wind in Counsel's leaves. I said, "What?" And then my ears repeated the words, and I knew they were Latin. Because of the Lady's friend Merlin, his harp, and his songs, I knew a little Latin.

  She said again in Latin, "Rude boy! Tell me where I am."

  She did not know! It was not her doing that she stood on Apple Island, magic-guarded home of the Lady, home of me, Niviene.

  I flashed a grin up at her, openmouthed. This gesture displayed my sharp-filed canine teeth to full advantage. This gesture should show her beyond all doubt where she stood, and in what danger.

  With sudden, sure knowledge I said, "Otter Mellias brought you here!"

  At my shoulder, Elana murmured, "The Otter! Of course! Who else?"

  Only he could have done this. Only Mellias, who dared live on Apple Island near the dangerous Lady, would have dared seize and drug this Human, roll her into a coracle (with the help of merry friends, no doubt), and pole her over here where no Human had set foot since the Romans. He would have done it for spiteful fun— more fun than spite. Anyone else who snatched a Human girl at dusk from a Fey forest edge would have played with her, then left her body in a thicket. Only the Otter would imagine this escapade.

  Mellias was young, like my brother; not long out of the Guard; brown and cheerful as an otter. Over on the mainland I used to spy on him as he entertained his many friends with song and story, or invented new steps for the Flowering Moon dance, or worked up new tunes on his pipe.

  When Mellias came over to the island and built his heron-nest cabin, I swam over one evening from the Guard and sneaked in. Mellias was fishing off his deck, back turned to the inner cabin. I fluttered like a moth from neat bedroll to neatly hung bow, sling, javelin, ax, to neatly folded shirts, trousers, cloak. I marveled at the ordered space in that cabin, the respectful care of things. Under the folded trousers I found a small crystal. Most Fey keep some such protective device, even if they know no magic. My hand closed on this and lifted it away, even as I drifted like a breeze out the curtained door. Even now, Mellias's crystal swung on a thong from my neck.

  I grinned up at my Human. Her head lolled back against the apple trunk. She murmured, ''Arthur will come."

  I shook my head till my black braid swung. No one would come.

  "Mark me. Arthur will come."

  Her knees gave way. She sank down the trunk with a slow ripping sound as the blue overgown tore on the bark, and she landed in a half-conscious heap. Down there on the cool earth in the shade her aura showed up: a narrow, pale green flicker, strongest in the areas of the heart and genitals. Grand Mushroom had dimmed and dulled it, but I suspected it had never been strong or bright.

  I knelt down and took the large, pale Human hand in my small, dark one. I had touched Human hands before, and was not surprised to find it warmly alive like my own.

  Elana squatted and touched the loose ribbon-bound braid. She touched lightly at first, then her fist closed on
the braid as she worked to bring the red ribbon free. It came hard, and the woman whimpered, "What are you doing?"

  Elana bit her plump lip and pulled. Out came the knife from her belt and sliced the ribbon in three places. It slid off the braid.

  The helpless woman muttered, "Arthur will drown you."

  I said, "The blue gown is nice. Enough for two shirts."

  "Torn," Elana remarked. "Dirty."

  "The girdle."

  "Aha!" Elana sliced the girdle in half without harming the white body—or even the tunic—under it, and we pulled it from under the woman's weight.

  "Enough," said Elana. I looked at the stained white tunic. "No," said Elana, "it's filthy." She was right. Also, there were little rips running through it. It had not been woven or sewn for forest wear.