Chapter Text
Merlin followed the boy up the path towards the Slytherin castle, wondering why the Lady wanted to see him. Was he now about to find out why he felt so drawn to this family? It was three miles to the castle from the village, and he and the boy were both on foot. It was just after midday and the sun's rays were just peeking weakly out from behind the dull clouds. Merlin plodded on through the mud that lined the path, cursing the steepness of the hill; now he saw why the family rarely left the castle.
Finally, the two of them reached the front gates, in the centre of a wide and flat expanse at the top of the hill. He looked up at the massive gates in interest. Two guards were patrolling along the towers on either end, but Merlin knew this was for show more than anything. The Slytherins did not keep a garrison like many other large noble families. They evidently thought themselves above being attacked.
The gates swung open as he approached and Merlin entered into the courtyard beyond, not being able to help feeling nervous. As always, when he entered a castle, he couldn't help but compare it to Camelot. It was smaller, and more shabby, but grand in its own way, he supposed. Stables housing a few horses were at one end, a well stood in the middle of the courtyard and wide steps led up to the rooms beyond. A few servants scurried here and there.
The boy pointed. "She'll show you the way."
Merlin looked, and saw a serving girl, only about fourteen or fifteen years old standing at the top of the stairs. He nodded to the boy and climbed the stairs, noticing that the girl did not take her eyes off him. She seemed nervous.
"You're Emrys?" she asked as soon as he approached, in a voice that seemed much older than she was.
"I am."
"Come with me, my mistress desires to speak with you."
"I gathered that," Merlin said dryly, but he followed the girl anyway. She led him confidently down a labyrinth of corridors, never faltering in her step. He looked around surreptitiously as he walked. The Slytherins were rich, that much was apparent. Lavish tapestries covered the walls displaying grand hunting scenes and heroes from legend. He even noticed with amusement one that seemed to represent Camelot, with himself standing there, bearded and ancient. He shook his head … the beard.
He noticed a definite serpentine influence in the décor as he looked around. The brackets that held the torches in place were snakes, their long tails curled around the wood, their jaws fiery, emerald eyes glinting with the light as though alive. Carved serpent pillars were in place every ten feet along the corridors and Merlin felt uneasy as he passed them as though they could spring to life and strike at him from behind.
The girl paid them no attention however, and soon stopped in front of a small wooden door, on which yet more serpents were carved. She knocked and opened the door, striding in without waiting for an answer. She curtsied in the doorway.
"Emrys is here, my Lady."
"Excellent. Leave us, Mayda" An ancient and croaky voice sounded from within.
Mayda curtsied once more and gestured for him to enter, which he did, his senses ever alert.
The room was small and dark, illuminated only by a large fireplace, and it took a few moments for him to adjust to the dim lighting. When he did, he saw a great carved chair silhouetted against the fire. In this chair sat an ancient woman, her back bent with age, her hair silvery and tied in a braid that fell to her waist. She was clad in a green gown that seemed too large for her emaciated frame. Around her ankles, a massive snake unlike any Merlin had ever seen in this country was curled, hissing quietly. But it was her face that caught his attention. Though her body was frail with age, she had the determined expression of one many years younger. Her expression was stony, and Merlin knew she was someone not to be messed with. Her eyes were as emerald as the serpents in the hall that he had passed, and regarded him in a shrewd sharp manner that Merlin wasn't quite sure he felt comfortable with.
Those emerald eyes were examining him critically from head to toe, her head cocked to one side in contemplation. Her eyes snapped back up to his face.
"I have heard many great things about you, Master Emrys," she said, her very voice sounding regal. "I did not expect you to be so young."
Merlin resisted the urge to smile. Three hundred years old and he was young?
"Age is no indication of anything, my Lady," he said humbly, bowing slightly, remembering from Camelot the best way to flatter the aristocracy. "It is our deeds alone that distinguish us, not our years. And I am humbled indeed to have come to the attention of one as distinguished as our noble Lady."
"Hmm," grunted Lady Cassandra. "Silvery words. You seem much older when you speak."
Merlin again fought the urge to smile.
She sat up a little straighter. "Of course, there is more to you than meets the eye. I see things that not many others see, my boy. Your name for instance."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "My name? What significance has that, my Lady?"
"You know perfectly well," she grunted. "Either you're so full of yourself and arrogant about your abilities that you chose this name for yourself, or you had very optimistic parents. A name as great as this should not be given out lightly."
She was shrewd, Merlin observed. She knew of the legends.
"Do you think you are worthy of such a name?" she asked, leaning closer.
"I would hope so, my Lady," Merlin said, bowing again. Especially as it is my real name, he added silently. "I will leave it up to your own good judgment to decide that."
He heard a sudden cackling from the corner. "Oh, he knows his way around the upper classes he does." Merlin turned to see another old woman, more squat and dim looking than the other. "He's no ordinary healer, dear sister. He's consorted with nobility before, you can see it in his bearing."
Merlin smiled with effort; obviously consorting with royals had scarred him for life.
Cassandra Slytherin nodded to her sister-in-law. "Yes, you are right, Bernica. I can sense it within him."
She tilted her head to one side again. "Curious," she murmured. "Not an ordinary peasant, yet willing to consort so openly with them …"
"I lead a simple life, my Lady," Merlin said.
"And I would bet my wand that it's not by choice," Lady Cassandra observed. "You lived a greater life than this once."
Although Merlin felt uncomfortable under her searching gaze, he began to admire her intuitiveness. The Slytherin reputation was well deserved.
She pulled out a wand from within her gown and pointed it to the wine jug that sat before her on the table. It lifted up into the air and poured the red liquid into a waiting goblet, which then floated towards the Lady on pale smoke. She watched him carefully. She raised her eyebrows.
"Not even a twitch. You are unusual. Does magic not frighten you?"
Merlin tried not to laugh at the irony. "No, my Lady. It does not."
She smiled a smile that seemed to conceal a multitude of hidden meanings.
"The villagers do not think likewise."
Merlin said nothing. He stared back at her as intensely as she stared at him, sensing he was being tested.
She took a deep draught of wine and leaned back in her chair, watching him. Lady Bernica watched him as closely, though she didn't have the same unnerving look in her eye.
Merlin waited patiently; eventually they'd have to reveal why they'd summoned him.
"You're doing well, boy," Lady Cassandra observed. "Not many could stand there as bravely as you."
"You are not so formidable, my Lady."
She laughed, a sharp barking sound. "Oh, cheek as well, eh? You're intriguing me further and further. Very well," she eyed him closely. "If magic does not scare you, and I do not, what does?"
"My Lady could hardly expect me to own up to it?"
She smiled wryly. "Evading questions? Yes, I think I like you." She sent another goblet of wine flying at him with her wand. "You may have a drink for that."
Merlin bowed, and drank; the wine was expensive and far more titillating than the cheap stuff consumed down at the village tavern.
Lady Cassandra watched him closely. "I think I do know what scares you. Guilt. Standing by helpless as events unfold outwith your control."
Merlin tried not to let on how close the mark she was. "Oh? And what makes you think that, my Lady?"
She smiled. "I told you, I can tell things about people that others cannot." She jerked her head towards the window and the general direction of the village. "You were unable to save that girl. I should think that would scare any physician."
Merlin tried not to show his surprise. "My Lady is remarkably well informed. The child died not four hours ago."
"There is little that goes on in that village that I am unaware of," she answered, and Merlin noticed her eyes flicked to her snake as she spoke. It hissed again. "What was it that ailed her?"
"I do not know," said Merlin. "It was a disease I have not encountered before. I was unable to do anything to treat her."
Lady Cassandra nodded. "And have you heard the murmurings in the village?"
"I do not pay attention to gossip, my Lady."
"You would do well to," she said fiercely. "This child's death, tragic as it is in itself, is a dark omen."
"An omen?"
"You know of what I speak," she said, her eyes glinting. "Do you think I know not what they whisper about me and my family? They believe we are evil for what we practice. The gossiping has gotten ever more violent since my son left on his travels, and I fear the death of this child will ignite them further. Especially as it was such an unusual ailment."
"Why have you summoned me here, my Lady?" Merlin asked, not willing to dance around the subject any longer.
"I want you to find the real cause of the disease," the Lady said to him, apparently pleased with his directness. "It must have come from somewhere. Find the cause, and the treatment. Show to the villagers that it is not a sign from the heavens sent to punish them. Prove to them that it is not an unnatural affliction."
"You place a lot of faith in my abilities, my Lady," answered Merlin. "What makes you sure it is natural?"
"I have heard accounts from other villages, the same disease has affected them," she answered. "Consult with other healers. I'm sure you'll be able to come up with something."
"And what makes you so certain that I will succeed where so many others have apparently failed?" he asked, beginning to suspect the real reason he had been summoned here.
She grinned, showing a row of gleaming white teeth. "You and I both know why you are more likely to succeed than most. You were caught by surprise, but by learning more of this disease I am confident you will come up with something. After all, you're no ordinary physician are you?"
Merlin felt a small smile creep across his features. "What makes you say that, my Lady?"
"Magic attracts magic, young Master Emrys," she said, and began stroking the snake that had slithered up to her lap. "And it's remarkable how dim-witted some can be. When doing magic in a place where it is banned, it's astonishing how many people look all around them for suspecting eyes, but never above to see what may be lurking in the rafters."
The snake hissed again, and Merlin suddenly understood. "You are a Parselmouth," he said, noting how the snake seemed to look up at his words. "Spying on the villagers? Surely there are better things a snake could be doing with its time?"
Lady Cassandra looked only mildly surprised. "We live in dangerous times," she said, continuing to stroke the snake. "An old lady must take precautions to protect herself."
She adjusted the sleeves of her gown. "Again, you intrigue me. You bear the name of the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, practice magic in a village full of Muggles and know of Parseltongue, a rare and dying ability. I wonder how?"
"Are you from the nobility?" Lady Bernica asked, leaning in and squinting at him. "You are obviously an educated man. Why surround yourself with Muggle peasants?"
"It suits my purpose," Merlin answered calmly.
"And what is that?"
"Waiting for my destiny," Merlin answered, rather cryptically, noting the annoyed looks on both the old women's faces.
Lady Cassandra chuckled under her breath. "You are a mystery, young Master Emrys. I doubt even the shrewdest of Slytherin minds could figure you out."
Merlin did not answer.
"Very well," she announced, her voice suddenly more controlling. "You may keep your secrets. But do I have your support?"
"Support?"
"This new situation is dangerous for us both," she said. "It would be mutually beneficial if you could calm the villager's suspicions."
"They do not know about me, my Lady," Merlin said, amused by her annoyed expression. "It would only be you that is in danger."
Her eyes flashed. "And my sister-in-law, nephew and great-neice, plus all the members of the household. Do you care so little for your own kind?"
Merlin had to admit, toying with her was amusing. Of course, he had every intention of helping; he'd been planning on consulting with others anyway, but he rather liked the idea of this proud woman asking for help from a peasant.
"I will help, my Lady," he said, bowing. "You were right, being helpless does frighten me, and I have no wish to watch another child die like that. I also would not stand by and watch the persecution of others, regardless of whether I was like them or not. I will leave for the next village tonight."
Lady Cassandra nodded sharply. "You will be rewarded, young Master Emrys. I could have many uses for you. You would no longer need to associate with those ignorant villagers."
"I would associate with them anyway," said Merlin firmly.
"Even though they would burn you at the stake given half the chance?"
"It is not the first time I have lived like this," said Merlin, quietly. "I will help others, regardless of whether they want my help or not. Muggles may be ignorant, and they may fear us, but who can blame them?"
"You are one of those who wish to return to the Golden Years of Camelot?"
Yes, more than anything.
"I would settle for less, my Lady," he said calmly. "Toleration between the two races if not friendship."
She sniffed loudly. "You're waiting for a miracle."
"Perhaps so," Merlin said. "But I will wait."
Lady Cassandra regarded him intensely, as if trying to determine if he was serious or not. Eventually, she seemed to shrug it off.
"Very well," she said finally. "You should set out immediately. The situation is precarious. I am depending on you, Emrys. You have such a powerful name … I only hope you live up to it."
Merlin bowed, trying not to feel the sharp sting of those words. Emrys. He used the name still, but he was no longer that man, the one in legend. He had failed in his duty at the end. Would he do so again?
Lady Cassandra pulled on a cord beside her chair, and almost immediately, the door opened and the servant girl appeared once more.
"Farewell, Emrys," Lady Cassandra said, her emerald eyes piercing into his very soul. "Remember what I said. The situation is far more serious than you seem to think."
He fixed her with one long last look, and turned to follow the servant girl out again without glancing back.
The girl led him back through the maze of passages as silently as before. Merlin's mind was racing. The Slytherins were indeed a complex family. Was this why he'd been drawn here? To help them against the Muggles that threatened them? Somehow he didn't think so; they were far too proud to need him.
Yet, as he emerged back out into the courtyard and he observed the sparse guard he couldn't help but feel uneasy. The castle certainly looked impenetrable, but it would not stand up to siege with so few men. There were magical people living inside, certainly, but two of them were old women, who though intelligent, were dramatically weakened in their magical ability; he had sensed as much while in the room with them. One was only a mere child. Her father may be the only one truly able to defend the place, but from what Merlin had heard about his intelligence …
He heard laughing from the opposite end of the courtyard. He turned his head to see a young girl, perhaps only about five years old sitting astride a fat grey pony, giggling as it flicked its ears and tail. By her side, with a tight grip on the reigns, was evidently her father judging by the look of adoration on his face.
He couldn't help but be reminded of Aelbert in the village and his love for his daughter. Was grief over that loss going to lead to the destruction of this family as well?
The girl looked up at him and smiled, but Merlin felt nothing but a chill in his heart. Her face, so innocent and open … there was a great misgiving inside of him. Something awful was looming.
He turned and headed out of the great gates and made his way back to the village as quickly as he could on the horse the serving girl had had brought to him on her mistress' orders. He had to hurry if he was to convince the villagers that the disease was entirely natural and not brought about by the inhabitants of this castle.
He galloped rapidly into the village and leapt off his horse as he neared his home and tied it to a pole. He hurried inside and threw a few things together in his bag, taking care to hide his magic book in case any of the villagers came snooping in his absence. It had happened before; he'd been driven out of two other villages in times gone by when they discovered his magic. Somehow his years of security in Camelot had helped him forget about being careful to stay concealed.
He picked up the bag and went back out into the street and attached it securely to the saddle. He was about to mount the horse when he noticed a skulking shape out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find Father Callan standing there.
"Can I help you, Father?" Merlin asked, more politely than he felt.
Father Callen's eyes flicked to the bag on the horse. "That remains to be seen. Are you going somewhere?"
"Only to the next village," said Merlin. He wanted to respond much more rudely but sensed that this was probably not a good idea; he didn't want to give the man more reason to hate him. "I want to prevent this tragedy from happening again. I'm off to try and find a cure."
Father Callan smiled, but the sight of that smile just made Merlin more uneasy. "You will not be successful, Emrys."
"Have you so little faith, Father?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows. "Others may have more effective treatments than I."
The man's smile widened, and a dangerous gleam came into his eye. "You will not be successful," he said slowly, "because this disease is not natural."
"It seems natural to me," said Merlin firmly. "Just because something is strange and new does not mean it is unnatural. We simply have to take the time to understand it better."
"I understand it perfectly," said Father Callan, and his eyes were wild. "This disease was brought on us by God as punishment."
Merlin frowned and stared the man down. "Your God would punish an innocent child?"
"It is not the child who is punished," said Father Callan dismissively. "She is gone on to a better place."
"Tell that to her parents," Merlin said coldly.
"It they who are being punished," Father Callan continued. "They who suffer, along with the rest of us. It is our punishment for the evil we have allowed into our midst."
"And He chooses to do this through a child? How merciful."
Father Callan scowled. "Of course, I wouldn't expect a pagan like yourself to understand. But you must understand the situation we are in now. The corruptive influence of the Slytherins must end."
"And how exactly have they been corruptive?" Merlin asked. "What is it they have done?"
"They exist," spat the priest, his eyes popping. "'Thou shallt not suffer a witch to live.' The Lord Himself has decreed it. By letting them live, we are bringing God's wrath upon us."
"No," Merlin said, his voice laced with anger. "It is ignorance that is our undoing. My ignorance in not knowing how to treat the child that led to her death, and it will be your downfall if you pursue this path of ignorance."
"Is that a threat, Emrys?"
"It is a warning," said Merlin, and his hatred of the man who growing every minute. "Do not pursue this. I will return in a few weeks, and I will prove to you that this disease can be treated and is not a plague unleashed by a vengeful God."
"And I warn you, Emrys," said the priest stepping closer. "I know where you were this afternoon. They are evil, and you cannot trust a word they say. I urge you, Emrys. Choose the right path. If you continue like this you will come under as much suspicion as them. Repent, declare your undying loyalty for the one true God and you may be spared."
"And the Slytherins?"
A look of anger crossed the man's face. "They will be dealt with as God commands."
"Even the child?" Merlin asked, staring at the man in repulsion. "I cannot believe that this is what your God commands. Does He not also say 'Love thy neighbour'? It seems you are only trying to justify your cruel actions by hiding behind flimsy excuses, picking and choosing what to believe. You are a hypocrite. I do not object to your faith, or your God, Father. What I object to is people like you who abuse the power and influence they are given by pursuing personal vendettas and claiming they are speaking for the masses."
Merlin looked at him coldly. "You are hiding behind your religion, Father. You do not pursue this because you believe it to be holy and just, you do it only for your own means. You disgust me."
He turned away from the man and mounted his horse. Father Callan was spitting was rage.
"You will regret this, Emrys!" he called, as Merlin began to move away on the horse. "There will come a day when you will beg for the Lord's forgiveness for your wicked, pagan ways! The Day of Reckoning is coming! Make sure you are on the right side!"
Merlin ignored him with difficulty, so furious was he at the man's words. It was scum like him that were the reason for Camelot's downfall; idiots who persecuted innocent people for no good reason. He was a slimy coward, trying to make himself appear righteous while at the same time advocating hate and violence.
He was a disgrace to what he preached. Although never a convert, Merlin had listened to many a sermon of the new religion that had found its way into Britain after Camelot's fall and was not wholly disapproving. It preached love, tolerance and mercy, but all Father Callan seemed to spout was hatred and strife. Not to mention, Merlin knew for a fact he did not adhere to his vows of poverty and chastity.
Well, he'd show him, Merlin thought, clutching his reins tighter. He'd prove to him that there was another way, a way they could all live together, that this was no divine punishment. Why had people forgotten the ways and peace of Camelot so quickly?
He urged his horse into a faster pace and he pulled his cloak tighter around him.
He'd show that despicable man what true harmony was.