Weep You No More Sad Fountains - Chapter 3
Weep You No More Sad Fountains
Chapter 3
Missing
“I wonder how much of the day I spend just calling after you.”
To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee
Merlin lived in anxiety of that the Prince’s endeavour would be discovered, and the imprudence of his actions combined with the disapprobation of just who he had helped would be fully felt by the King, unleashing all manners of prejudice remarks and devastating exploits towards the Prince.
Merlin thought that injustice towards a man who had acted so courageously. However much of an arrogant, withdrawn man he could be.
However, Merlin’s worrying for his master’s wellbeing was disrupted by the most ill-humour of all rumours. By means of communication, Merlin had heard that his mother was caught sick of a feverish plague, an ailment that made her weak in mind and slow in physicality. This report was the last sighting of her a fortnight ago and new panics dislocated Merlin’s peace and his actions.
He very much wished to say in Camelot, for he had found a purpose there that he did not believe would ever reside in Ealdor, he was comfortable in his station and his life had light and spirit frequently visiting in all their shine and pleasant appearance. He knew now the meaning of security and felt all the luxuries that came with such an almost rare liberty. No hunger did he need pay heed to, nor ever one of loneliness. But, despite his best efforts to be content with the knowledge his mother was of a strong, unyielding disposition when nature was considered, feelings of unease pecked at his inner ear until the flesh was sore with fret.
Merlin conversed unto Gaius his woes and the old man gave him leave for however long he believed necessary, trusting Merlin’s sense of duty and talents as a healer that the visit could possibly be one of pleasure also, the last time he saw his mother a distant echo in the corridors.
But upon this Merlin felt great and surprising agitation.
He did not wish to leave for a great while.
Truth be told and always bright, he couldn’t ignore the need to see his mother in good health and good spirits; however a crushing sense of guilt and sadness came with the inclination of his leaving. He prayed the Prince would understand and that maybe these thoughts of the parting being a mutual displeasure due to his imagination and a result of his wish wanting to be with his mother.
Merlin made the ways of preparing for such a journey within less than the few hours given to him by his schedule, then took the Prince’s dinner to his room and swallowed the lightness of his stomach, another ailment of his lamenting for his mother’s sake.
Merlin knocked on the door once, a rare task for him he was aware, but to gain the Prince’s favour he needed to be courtly, he supposed.
Upon the amused but indifferent ‘Enter’ Merlin didn’t know if the Prince was laughing at him or his actions. Still, he placed the food upon the table, where the Prince sat in wait. Merlin then went to clean the room, a few dustings here and there, while the Prince conversed with his father’s ward: the Lady Morgana.
She had a sharp eye about her and upon giving several glances to the boy motioned in persuasion for Arthur to direct his eye at an appearance where his attention was desired.
‘Does he want to talk to you?’ She smiled knowingly. Merlin looked up, noticing their gaze and blushed at the intensity of one and the importance of the other. The Prince threw him something curious and after whispering something to the Lady Morgana, left the room, holding the door open; a strong inclination that his servant would follow.
He did, and prepared his speech.
‘Well, Merlin?’ he said, leaning against the door he had just shut, ‘Don’t keep me waiting. Out with it.’
‘If you please, sire, I would like to request a leave of absence from your services.’
Arthur looked momentarily shocked and wounded, but repaired his features for his next statement.
‘What to do? Where to go? Are you quitting me, Merlin?’ There was a sub-textual threat within his maze of eyes, but Merlin smiled at his annoyance, for he found it endearing.
‘No sire; to see my mother who has become very ill.’
The Prince’s face softened altogether at those words and Merlin wondered why specifically the change of countenance and was it what he thought for the time he was given, before the Prince caught his attention again.
‘Your mother? But she lives almost four days travel from Camelot. How ill is she?’
‘Her name is Hunith and I hope she isn’t in danger. I wish to reassure myself and cure her with all I can.’
The Prince looked incredulously at his servant for a few moments, ‘You do not have any pretext for wanting to stay with her?’
‘No, sire! If there are no signs of danger, I will return as soon as possible,’
The look didn’t fault, however his face did again soften.
‘How long do you think you’ll need?’
‘As short a time as possible, sire.’
‘Promise me no longer than ten days-’
‘I cannot hold a time sire, for I may be inclined to break its promise,’
‘At all accounts, you will not stay longer than a fortnight.’
‘I will try my best,’ Merlin said smiling.
The Prince’s stance was still that of a bear’s on its hind legs; however his eyes how let seep a sense of concern.
‘Do you intend to travel alone?’ And his volume was quieter.
‘I have not a soul to accompany me.’
Arthur now raised his voice, for what emotion Merlin could not tell, or would place, ‘You cannot protect yourself Merlin!’ and upon this he thought, ‘A Knight will escort you. I’ll have no objections.’
‘Thank you sire, however do not waste valuable men on my account, I am more than I appear to be,’
The Prince meditated Merlin’s eye.
‘When do you wish to go?’
‘Early tomorrow morning, sire,’
‘Well, you must have some money; you can't travel without money, and I daresay you have none: I have given you no salary yet. How much do you have Merlin?’ the Prince asked, smiling.
‘Ten copper pieces sire,’ He took Merlin’s statement, and chuckled over it as if its scantiness amused him. He then reached beside him and looked into his pouch, a display of wealth as well as a good means to buy his wants easily in the city.
‘Here,’ he said, signally for Merlin to produce his hand and upon this palm, the servant found thirty gold coins.
The Prince owned him but five silver ones.
Merlin said he had no change and Arthur took great pleasure in the teasing of his little servant,
‘I don’t want change, you know that. Take your wages.’
Merlin protested politely and genuinely that he could not accept more than was his due; the Prince scolded him at first, but then thinking again, said quickly and mockingly,
‘Of course, of course. With thirty gold coins, you’d stay three months and torment me with the foolishness of such a gallantry. Here,’ he relinquished many, ‘take five.’
He refused further objections from Merlin that even five was too much, but Arthur took some sort of morbid pleasure in making the boy uncomfortable, and with his eye made this known.
Merlin had to relent.
‘Thank you, Ar- sire’ Merlin blinked hardly as to encompass his fault at the Prince’s address. His master hadn’t minded recently that he addressed him informally, and now that Merlin had time to think upon such a case, Arthur never really seemed to mind.
Merlin wondered why.
The Prince, however, took advantage of Merlin’s state.
‘How dare you,’ he spoke proudly, ‘Give me back four pieces Merlin, I’ve a use for them, such imprudent behaviour can’t go unnoticed!’
‘No, sire.’ And Merlin stepped back smiling with a glee that attacked him by ambush, hiding the pieces behind his back: out of reach and out of sight.
‘Merlin,’ His master spoke sternly with a mocking threat.
Merlin continued to smile, ‘You are not to be trusted.’
But unfortunately, this brought the conversation to a natural end, and all that was left were the formalities that come with such a parting: for one side to say goodbye, the other to wish good health and a pleasant journey.
Arthur smiled, and re-entered his chambers.
Merlin’s smile faded - and he walked away.
XxXxX
The sun was bright and unforgiving in its happiness and forced the traveller to rejoice in such a day, to sing gaily at the beauties of nature that entrap the Earth and hum around it.
Merlin thought it strange the sun should shine so splendidly.
Already, an agreeable quantity of his journey was trodden behind him, the undergrowth of the forest easy on his shoed feet.
Within three days, Merlin was within Ealdor’s fence and smiled on such a happy occasion.
When he reached the village, the people were carrying out their everyday needs and wants, labours, trials and tribulations that come swiftly with poverty and the lower class. Merlin had many a bad memory, but cast them from his mind and focused on his mother, a woman who needed him.
After civility had been exchanged with the villagers he knew, which, from growing up with no more than sixty say people around him, he knew everyone, did he get the chance to check up upon his mother without appearing rude or impertinent to the others.
She greeted him with all the love and affection that naturally grows from one’s own flesh, smiled with him in joy and ecstasy at finally being reunited with her son; the webs of loneliness around her melted with his presence, and she felt content to have him here once more.
Merlin, although smiling and in raptures to see his mother again, was gravitated by the boils and bruises of sickliness that chained his mother’s skin like a leather sheen of rotten flesh on fruit. She coughed, and this comforted Merlin to some degree.
It proved she was still living.
Upon her weak conduct, she fell asleep.
Merlin soothed her boils with heated butters, a mixture of henbane and hemlock were applied to her aching joints and Coriander was used to reduce the fever.
XxXxX
These practises were used at least twice a day until improvement shone on the fifth.
While she slept to conserve her energy, Merlin cleaned the house.
He dusted the surfaces of her hut, swept the floor and destroyed all the cobwebs. Unwanted and unnecessary items were sold as to gain her some income and Merlin placed the five gold pieces the Prince had bestowed on him along with the other earned copper ones, into his mother’s purse. The weight satisfied Merlin that she may be comfortable for at least another month.
Merlin reacquainted himself with the village, remembering the last time he was here, and took it upon himself to pay his friend a visit.
Will’s site seemed clean, thus Merlin did not feel inclined to tidy it. Merlin smiled, despite the low feelings of sadness, he did not miss his friend. Will had been good to him, looked out for him as if they were brothers; but he was prejudice and arrogant for his station: faults he could not cleanse, but one’s that lost his potential in seeing the beauty the world had to offer.
Merlin thought of the Prince and how gracious a gesture he had used to honour his friend and Merlin was thus assaulted by the need to lay down.
The trees were green, however not shining. The sun was bright but not warm. The air was clean but tasteless and suddenly the world was cold.
Upon thinking of a memory, or maybe a remark the Prince would have said to his blank expression, Merlin smiled and looked to his side, but it faded as fast as it had become visible-
-no presence did he see.
XxXxX
On the completion of a week did Merlin’s mother gain the ability to speak with spirit and vehemence, no longer needing to cough to punctuate her sentences.
Hunith could now properly enquiry after her son and if he was happy.
‘How is the Prince treating you, Merlin? He sends me a letter, wishing my good health,’
Merlin heard her produce a parchment which he assumed had the communication she stated and was surprised she could read it. She read little. Maybe his Father taught her.
‘He is such a handsome young man: in character and appearance. I should hope he is very amiable to you?’
Merlin stopped his current task of sweeping and paused in his deep thoughts.
His mother’s words were of no consequence, some simple questions to reassure herself of her son’s happiness, but there was a manner of their delivery and a sense of dimension which gave them meaning.
‘Merlin, come here.’ He turned in time to see her gesture for his sitting beside her so they may talk intimately.
He relinquished his hold of the broom and hoped that his perturbation was not so strong as to be visible.
She gazed on him and repeated her enquiry.
‘How is he with you?’
Merlin breathed slowly and spoke without a blush, he prayed. He remembered his words: foretelling his insignificance to the Prince and how he related similar sentiments to her.
He thought.
‘I-I highly esteem him... I like him,’
She smiled, ‘You gave an air that he was insufferable,’
Merlin’s face fell and he spoke with haste,
‘I did not mean that his attributes have improved; I meant that upon knowing him longer, his disposition has become more understood. And in this understanding their true sentiments realised and... cherished.’ Merlin’s eye could not concentrate on his mother’s; the iris slid to the side in a way of remembering, a glaze appearing that comes with one’s transportation.
‘Do you miss him?’ she spoke while reaching for his hand.
Merlin stood and avoided further trespassing.
Hunith continued to smile - her son need not worry himself with her curiousity; she did not desire to force his communication. She had proof enough. There was sufficient evidence to indicate that her son and the Prince were more engaged than they had last been during their stay, that they had a bond that now lacked sustenance: the mark was on Merlin’s brow, the way he kept himself, the distraction in his eye that she caught. She was glad that Merlin had found something in the Prince, and knew that she never worry for him. The Prince would keep him safe; of this she was sure and relieved this anxiety would know her no more, thus was satisfied.
However Merlin lamented.
It was true in what he said -- the Prince was what he had been, and would never change. But there was such a new angle of character that Merlin had not first seen. At times he felt ashamed for his prejudice, but realised that he never truly thought ill of the Prince, even from their first encounter, as his head had left him to believe.
No, it had been but a dormant feeling, now with summer’s rays could sprout its leaves and extend the roots. What pleasant civility the Prince could communicate with him! What concern he could show! Merlin knew that his station subtly forbid any warmth from his master and yet the man portrayed moments of -- discomposure for his wellbeing. The moments were fast and fleeting but existed in time’s compass nonetheless, despite time’s smallest measurement. Merlin looked within himself and tried to find an explanation for such starts in his chest, but found no reply.
Merlin could not be untouched by his master’s politeness nor ignore the respect and gratitude he felt for his more valuable qualities. Despite the moments his master expressed intensity in his temper, they were balanced by his unspoken acknowledgment of his faults later. The gratitude resided with a humble fact; Merlin’s security and happiness depended upon the Prince, he was in his employment and could be discarded so very easily for his behaviour: yet the Prince kept him, and Merlin smiled, for a moment allowing himself the perception that they might be-
-friends.
Now Merlin, however knowing that he would return, couldn’t help but feel that he had abandoned the Prince to a life without humour and good spirits, a life wherein nobody understood him.
Arthur was a good master, and Merlin believed that he couldn’t find a more faithful guardian.
‘Merlin? Why do you smile so?’ his mother asked tiredly from the bed, drifting to sleep.
‘I remembered something.’
XxXxX
The Prince had given Merlin a fortnight in which to visit his mother and return, however Merlin did not enter the road in which was bound for Camelot until a month had passed.
The extension of time was due to his worry for his mother’s condition, now completely perished out of her body, alongside the idea that his mother was lonely without his company.
She gave leave of him at his conversing of the Prince’s wishes as she spoke of him again, and hasten that he depart, and depart immediately -- although frail, she was a grown woman with enough memories to satisfy her need for intimate company, he need not spare her a thought.
Now, Merlin was walking over a meadow in which the castle was visible in the twilight.
It was not an extraordinary scene, but was tranquil and beautiful.
The grass was lush and a tinted red-green, soft to touch Merlin thought, with the irregular pattern of daisies and dandelions. The sky was an opulent mirage of blues and pinks, hazing at the points where the clouds were present. The sun, now a sleepy orb of topaz, was sinking in the liquids above.
Merlin felt absolutely at peace with nature, found exquisite delight in them.
However, what was extraordinary about the scene was the Prince sitting beneath a tree, back comfortably positioned and legs spread for leisure, pencil and paper in his hand: he was writing.
Merlin guessed the Prince had not seen him yet and wondered at his being out at such an hour, and for what.
Against the sunshine between the trees, did the Prince acquire an attire of manner that placed him as naturally in the scene as the earth itself.
Merlin was happy to be in Camelot again, in his master’s presence.
Merlin was not conscience of his body’s movement, only solely concentrating on his facial workings and the need to appear calm, but above all, to suppress the raising glow within his breast and the smile that dared to accompany this feeling. He felt his muscles rebel against his will, and once struggled, had been able to break through their cage, now adorning on his face the exact expression he had wished to conceal.
His master must have heard his approaching, for his step had quicken quite significantly, only with the Prince’s raising his head and seeing his face, with a glaze within his iris, did he realise that he must have ran.
However, the look of shock, surprise and discompose of astonishment was overtaken by anger, and the Prince’s eyes were locked to him with bars of irritation.
‘Where have you been?’ The Prince forsook what he had been previously engaged with and stood to his full height, broad shoulders imposing. ‘And you can wipe that smirk off your face!’ His brow had become harsh and narrow in his expression of anger, lips pointed.
Merlin could not exchange his smile for another emotion if he were being whipped. He had gone many days without seeing the man who had become such a fixed idol within his everyday life, that now to be reunited with this missing piece was to be a perpetual happiness. Merlin was overcome with such raptures; a feeling so pure in its fulfilment in his body as well as the conquering of his mind.
So much had this sensation overtook his beating of simple existence that to be reprimanded by his master was for him to take Merlin in his arms and embrace him; his master’s voice was something that he had been acquainted with for many months, and to be given such a noise again was a sweet elixir and birdsong to Merlin’s ear; the gravelled smoothness of it, the perfect diction, all complimenting and fitting against Merlin’s senses perfectly.
‘Merlin,’ The sharp, fine eyes still vehement and the forehead still tense. ‘I gave you a fortnight. You do realise that you have almost doubled that time!’
‘Yes.’ Merlin spoke, as if in a trance, still smiling.
The Prince now stopped and halted all emotions that would inspire fear; all anger seemed to be washed away from his brow. What was left was an incredulous manner in which Merlin supposed he was studying him. What Merlin supposed must have been right, for his master’s eyes seemed to excite a ghost within him, noting the timing and strength of each heartbeat.
Upon finding something he favoured, Arthur smiled. It was a smile that was entirely of his own element and one that he saved for only occasions Merlin thought, contained him. It was complete sunshine, purging all shadows: Arthur shone this light on Merlin now.
‘How have you been Merlin?’
‘In good health thank you, sire.’
‘How is your mother?’
‘Very much recovered and mending well. I left her healed.’
The Prince took on a more serious demeanour now however, ‘You are not to leave me again for so long Merlin. Your conduct was not becoming in the slightest of measurements. I’ve been without a component manservant for a month now.’
‘Surely you have one in my stead!’
‘I did -- but he wasn’t to my liking. Better than you of course in the art of cleaning, however he was extremely dull.’
‘Is that so, sire?’ Merlin’s smile did not remain from a continuation of the reunion, but from the aspect that his master felt some sort of partiality to him.
Arthur scoffed, but smiled through it, and paused, no doubt to communicate something of heavy weight. His features softened, but remained firm, his eyes were vulnerable, yet still guarded.
‘Don’t do that again, Merlin.’
With this, Merlin walked past him, as to accompany the Prince back to the castle, but while his master collected his forgotten things, mumbling something about idle men, Merlin turned and spoke freely, wishing the Prince to understand at least this much, hoping it would comfort him, but if not, would at least help him understand his servant more,
‘My home is with you, sire. Whatever amount of time keeps us apart, I will always return, always willing to serve you. Wherever you are, is where I belong.’
Arthur looked like something akin to wounded, his lips pouting; however Merlin did not wait to study the expression, leaving Time to realise the meaning of his master’s nature.
Chapter 4