Chapter 21—The Peddler’s Story

The rumble of the wagon wheels on the cobblestone announced Merlin’s arrival back at the abbey. Merlin pulled on the reins, slowing the draft horses to a halt outside the kitchen delivery door. He spied his mother’s hand, swishing aside a curtain in the basement window. She waved then disappeared from sight. Merlin slid from the seat of the wagon and stretched. It wasn’t a long trip from the castle stables to the abbey, but the unevenness of the cobblestone made for a jumpy ride. He rubbed his hip, where it had collided with the side of the driver’s seat after the wheel hit a stone partially dislodged from its resting place in the road.

“Merlin!” Huddel rushed down the steps and threw her arms around her only son. Hugging him tight, she murmured into his chest, “I have missed you!” Her hair tickled his nose and he sneezed, even as he squeezed his mother tight.

“I have missed you, too!” They broke apart, beaming.

Huddel’s critical eye swept over her son. “You have grown!”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “No, I haven’t, Mother. You say that every time we’re apart.”

“Well, you look more mature then.” She cocked her head to the side, studying his face. “Something is different about you.” She reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

Merlin wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the door. “How about we discuss it while we pack up? The king is waiting for this delivery, and I’d hate to be fired from my first commission. The crew assigned to the delivery will be here in a few minutes with the other wagons.” He smiled, his eyes promising to tell everything. Huddel read the clear message as only a mother can do and nodded.

“Quite right. There’s no time for standing around chewing on words when there’s work to be done.”

She pulled Merlin along behind her as they descended the steps to the brewery. The delicious smell of roasted hops filled the air. Merlin inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and savouring the yeasty smells of home. Huddel paused beside a dozen barrels of ale, resting on platforms. A large cork had been tapped into each oaken barrel. Written in wax pencil was the name of the ale, a series of calendar dates, and the flavour profile of the brew.

“These are the kegs, Merlin. I tested them this morning. They are ready.” She handed him a set of leather gloves, which he tugged onto his hands. “Now tell me what has happened, since you went to the castle.”

Merlin quickly filled in his mother while they prepped the barrels for shipment. Rolling the full kegs to the base of the stairs was a slow process for the two of them, which left plenty of time for talk. The rumble of the wood and the noisy scrape of the metal staves smothered their words from unwanted eavesdroppers.

As Merlin wound down his recitation Huddel frowned. “Merlin, are you sure you can do this? From what you told me you barely escaped from the bone dragon the last time. She will be expecting you now that she knows you are in the employ of the king.”

“I can do this.” The rumble of wagon wheels on the cobblestone announced the arrival of the drivers. Merlin grabbed his mother’s shoulders and whispered “You know I can do this. I have a plan worked out.” He glanced up the stairs as the door to the courtyard creaked open. “You will have to trust me, as must Arthur.” He kissed her on the cheek then ran up the stairs to greet the first driver. “This way. The kegs are down in the cellar.”

The drivers trooped down the stairs and in teams of four rolled the barrels up the stairs and out to the waiting wagons. Merlin lashed the barrels to iron rings bolted to the back and sides of the wagons. Two hours later, all were loaded. Merlin watched the barrels sway as the wagons bounced over the rough cobblestone, but they did not topple, secured as they were to the wagon bed.

As the last of the ale vanished from sight, he returned to the basement to assist his mother with the set up of new, empty barrels. Into a large cauldron, Huddel poured a starter mash reserved from the last brewing, then added a fresh mixture of her secret concoction of ingredients, bound in a cotton cloth tied with a cord. Merlin grabbed two buckets stacked at the side of the last barrel and began the laborious hauling of water from the well. It took him several trips to haul enough water to fill the low-slung kettles to their proper levels. Huddel had laid a fire beneath them. Merlin emptied the last bucket then knelt next to the first fire. “Lux a flamma,” he murmured, and the dry kindling ignited, quickly catching the bark of the dried oak. Huddel smiled her thanks, then picked up a wooden spoon and began to stir.

Merlin fetched the tea kettle and filled it with water, then hung it over the flames to heat. Huddel’s dark eyes followed his movements. “What is your plan, Merlin? How do you intend to find the dragon?” She rapped the spoon on the lip of the cauldron of mash, then hung it on a metal hook on the side before dragging over a low stool to sit beside the warming brew. She would not leave it while it heated, as the temperature had to be exactly right.

Merlin fetched his own stool and sat down beside her. He ran a hand across the back of his neck and head, wincing as it touched the bruise from his fall. He grimaced. “I have a theory. Just a theory.” He frowned. “In order for Simone to conjure the dragon, she must have had access to the bones of a dragon. I have racked my brains to think of where she might have gotten such a thing, and I can only think of two places where they might be found.”

“You know where to find dragon bones?” Huddel’s brow lifted in surprise. “That is not a common thing to know, Merlin. How could you know this?”

“From the traders who came to the inn. Don’t you remember Edan Roc? The dirty old codger who showed up every spring?” Huddel nodded. “He liked to tell stories over his mug of ale, remember? And I used to listen because more often than not, he would talk about the bones that he had found up in the high passes. ‘So large they stood taller than a man’ he would say and stand up to show what that meant. Well, he also mentioned a lake near Camelot and a cave where he said he had found similar bones. I am going to find that cave.”

“Merlin, you are basing your plan on a rumour provided by a man who earned free tankards of ale by telling far-fetched stories?” Huddel rose to her feet, alarmed.

“It’s not a rumour. The presence of the bone dragon proves that,” he defended, adding tea leaves to the boiling kettle. Out of habit, Huddel grabbed the spoon from the side of the cauldron, stirring automatically, frowning at her son. “Don’t you remember his story about the ghosts of dead dragons that chased him away from the cave? He swore they could breathe fire, even though they were apparitions.” Huddel frowned. “Well, what if they weren’t just stories? What if it really happened? If there is a cave full of the spirits of dead dragons…well, maybe that is where Simone found her bone dragon. I feel as though the place holds answers for me.”

“Merlin….”

“Mother, what other choice do I have? I will find the cave. If it is just a wives’ tale, then no harm will come to me and all I will have wasted is a day.”

“And if it is not, then what? Do you plan to summon a dragon of your own?”

Merlin grinned. “I’d like a dragon.” His mother’s face darkened and his grin faded. “No, I am not going to summon a dragon of my own. I will summon Simone’s dragon.”

Huddel stared at her only son in disbelief. “I meant that as a joke. Do you really know how to summon a dragon, Merlin? Where could you have learned such a thing?”

Merlin shrugged. “I won’t know until I try, will I?”

“That is a foolishly dangerous plan, Merlin!”

Merlin poured tea into two cups, added a dollop of honey to them and then handed one to his mother. “Drink up. I need to fetch the rest of the water and then get back to the castle.”

They drank their tea in silence, each brooding over thoughts of dragons and magic and hidden dangers. Huddel set aside her empty cup with a vexed sigh, then picked up the spoon once more, fishing out the cotton bag bobbing around in the soft boil. “Promise me you will be very careful, Merlin.” Merlin nodded. “Now fetch the water. The mash is ready.”

The sun hung low on the horizon by the time they were finished. Wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his damp sleeve, Merlin tapped the last glass plug of the last draw, into the top of the barrel with a weary sigh. “I must go.”

Huddel nodded. “Wait, there is something I want to give to you.” She hurried over to the wooden chest where she kept her clothing and rummaged through it for a moment, then straightened and hurried back to him. In her hand was a worn leather drawstring pouch, the kind of purse used to hold small coins. She pulled it open and upended it over her open palm. A medallion on a leather cord slid out of the bag. It glinted dully in the lantern light.

Merlin picked it up, examining the markings on it. “What is this?” he asked, puzzled. One side of the coin was impressed with the image of a great tree of Avalon. The thick trunk was surrounded by a cap of limbs and leaves. Around the edge was etched tiny markings that he thought might be runes. Merlin flipped the coin over. On the opposite side was the head of a dragon. “Where did you get this?” His thumb traced the spikes on the neck of the dragon. The coin warmed in his hand, as though it sensed his thumb stroking its surface.

Huddel glared at the coin in her son’s hand, as though it had somehow offended her. “It was left in my care by Edan after one of his trips through the high pass. He wanted a place to hide it, claimed it possessed great magic. He was afraid of it, I think. Refused to touch it. He said he would return for it one day, but he never did. At least not before the inn burnt.” She traced a finger over the whorls of Merlin’s fingers, not touching the coin itself. “I don’t know if it has magic or not. But maybe it will bring you luck.” She plucked the cord from his hand, then draped it around his neck, tucking it away under his shirt. Huddel linked her arm through his and walked him to the stairs. “Thank you for helping to get this batch going. You are a good son.” She kissed his cheek. “Take this, too.” She shoved a parcel of food, wrapped in a waxed cloth and tied with a string, into his hand.

Merlin hugged her tight. “Thank you. Please do not worry about me. I can handle the dragon.”

Huddel squeezed him back, putting all of her motherly affection into the embrace. “I do not think I could live, if anything were to happen to you, Merlin. My heart would shatter. Remember the peddler’s stories. Maybe there was more to Edan’s stories than we thought. Perhaps there is something in them that might help you.”

“I will think on them.” Merlin touched his mother’s face, then bounded up the stairs and out into the descending twilight.