Myrddin
Child of the Lore
by
Philip G. Bell
Chapter 1 - Arrival
On a windy heath overlooking the sea, three sages stood. Their long robes flapping in the strong winds, their balance held by the strong staves held each in their right hands. Although it was mid-day, the skies were dark and stormy and out at sea the white horses reared and tossed their heads in anger. All at once the sages raised their staves and pointed at a common point out at sea. Lightning forked between that point and the sky and deafening thunder rolled across the sea towards the heath.
Then all was still.
No sign of the three sages remained, just a barren heath. The clouds rolled back to reveal a blue sky. At sea the white horses had returned to the depths and calm prevailed.
Gwen, the Elder, left the shelter of her dwelling hut and made her way to the beach to collect driftwood. Storms such as these had their use and usually resulted in a reasonable quantity, which when dried, would make good fuel for the coming winter. As she walked along the beach, she looked up at the sky many times. Such stillness after a storm often indicated more to come, but the clouds would tell her, if she needed to make her way back to shelter.
Piece by piece she collected the driftwood, and used her twine to bind them for ease of carriage. She was very much aware now that her age was working against her and would have to make more trips.
As she rested, she gazed out to sea, wondering what lay across this expanse of water. She had heard tales from fishermen of sea monsters and other lands where there were many strange creatures and people with two heads and far, far worse.
It was then that she saw something bobbing in the water, not so far from the shore. It looked like a small coracle. It was drifting towards shore. Gwen's thoughts were on salvage. A coracle would fetch a good price. Briefly, her thoughts drifted to whoever had put to sea in such an unsuitable craft, usually used for lakes and rivers; but these were hard times and people died from too many different causes. At least she might get some comfort from the person's loss and her gain.
Gwen walked into the gentle surf to grab the coracle and pull it to shore. As she reached her hands to the side and pulled it closer, she let out a small gasp of surprise. In the bottom of the coracle, lying on some straw was a tiny baby boy, naked but appearing in good health. The baby boy looked new-born, but was alert and smiled at Gwen without a single cry.
Gwen pulled the coracle onto the beach and lifted the child wrapping it in her shawl. So many thoughts were racing through her mind as she gazed at this little one.
Gwen had many years ago settled with Orwin of Gathelly. Orwin was a good man and a hard worker tending crops and sheep. But their common dream was to have a child and in that they had failed. Their love and companionship had seen them through, but it nagged them both so hard, that often on a winter's night, they would just sit and stare at the fire without a word being said. Now Gwen was past childbearing age. Locally she was known as Gwen the Elder, as there was a young girl in the village of the same name.
Perhaps the child was a gift from the Gods. Whatever the reason, this was a child who needed a mother and father.
Gwen placed the child into the coracle and pulled it further up the beach. She would leave the wood and coracle in a safe place and take the child to Orwin. "He can come and fetch the oracle and wood later," she thought.
Once again lifting the child she made her way back to her hut. Orwin was working nearby and she called to him.
"Orwin!" she called. "Come see what I have found!"
Orwin was glad to have a rest. He too was feeling his age and working with crops was not good for his back. He wondered what treasure Gwen had found.
As Gwen held the little bundle out to him, his face went from pure surprise to delight and a smile went across his face that Gwen had not seen for years.
"But, how?" asked Orwin. Gwen told him how she found him.
Orwin was packed off to the beach to collect the oracle and driftwood. Gwen was sure that there was a far sprightlier gait to his walk as she watched him on his walk. She smiled and looked at the child. "You must be hungry." She said to him. There were no mothers of babies within several days of here, so she decided that she would have to risk goat's milk diluted. Carefully improvising a skin bag, she pierced a tiny hole to act as a teat. "In time she would improve on this," she thought.
The baby fed vigorously and seemed content.
The biggest surprise for Gwen was that not once did he cry.
Soon, Orwin returned and Gwen handed him their adopted son. She in turn started to prepare a simple meal for the two of them. As it was starting to get darker and the light in the hut was limited anyway, Gwen lit a tallow lamp.
"We must give him a name." Gwen called over to Orwin, who was gazing in wonderment at the child.
Between the two of them they went through almost every name they could think of; never once could they agree.
Just as they were debating a possible compromise a voice called from outside.
"Hello, may I come in?"
Orwin handed the child to Gwen and went to see who was there.
At the door to the hut was a tall stranger dressed in a long robe with a hood. In his hand a staff.
"I have travelled far to reach you, will you allow me into your home?" There was something compelling about the stranger and Orwin beckoned him inside. The stranger looked around and sat on a nearby stool. My name is Tewin and I know you to be Orwin and Gwen. Do not be surprised for I am a Keeper."
These words from the stranger bought a strong feeling of fear over both Orwin and Gwen. Neither had ever met or seen a Keeper, but had heard of them from tales heard in the village from travelling storytellers. They had heard that Keepers were guardians of ancient lore and possessed powerful magic. It was said that they could kill you just by looking at you.
"Fear not, my friends. The tales about Keepers are not all true, although we are the guardians of ancient lore. I am here because of the child."
Gwen felt panic. Was this man going to take away her new son?
The Keeper continued, "His name is Myrddin to you and he, but other will know him by other names. He is a human child, his true mother died in childbirth. At the moment of her death, the child also nearly died. A small group of Keepers were passing and saved the child by means I cannot reveal but involved ancient wisdom. However a child needs parents and Keepers are not good with the basics of child rearing. You were selected to be the child's new parents."
Gwen felt relieved and a smile returned to her face. Orwin was still in a state of shock.
"But be warned," said the Keeper, "the child possesses special powers granted by the Keepers. As he grows, sages sent as his tutors will instruct him in ancient lore. You must not interfere with this, nor must you speak of this to others."
With this Tewin the Keeper rose from his stool and crossed over to Gwen.
"You are good people and will make fine parents for Myrddin until he comes of age. Be not afraid or too concerned at what you may see or experience as he grows. The child is protected by powerful magic as he has a special role to play in this world"
With that he touched Myrddin's forehead with his thumb and muttered a few words in a language strange to Orwin and Gwen. Then he walked out through the door.
Orwin followed to bid him farewell, but was surprised to find him gone, nowhere to be seen.
Inside, Gwen looked at the baby in her arms.
"So it is to be Myrddin. A finer name I could not have chosen, my little one."
Orwin prepared a small cot for the baby who slept all through the night.
Myrddin proved to be so easy to care for as a baby, rarely crying, only to indicate when he needed milk or changing. His smile captivated both his new parents who doted on him.
Orwin and Gwen were as happy as they could ever remember. Myrddin grew healthy and strong and not one day seemed particularly strange. Gwen and Orwin had almost forgotten the visit by the Keeper and his words. Four years had passed and Myrddin was a delightful, albeit slightly mischievous little boy.
There was nothing at all to indicate anything different about him.
Then one day Orwin was at the well, drawing up water in a bucket. Myrddin wanted his Father to play.
"Not now Myrddin, I am busy. Perhaps later," Orwin said.
He pulled on the rope to raise the bucket. This task was wearing on him as he grew older and he was puffing and panting with each pull. As the bucket, neared the top, Orwin felt his fingers slipping on the rope and it suddenly loosed from his grasp. The bucket plummeted back down the well. Orwin turned and sat on the ground with a tear in his eye.
"What's wrong Father?" asked Myrddin.
"Oh nothing but age Myrddin. An old man trying to pull water from the well doesn't do a very good job!" Orwin pulled Myrddin towards him and gave him a hug.
"But Father, I can't understand. You did a very good Job. Look!" Myrddin pointed to the side of the well. There was the bucket on the edge of the well.
Orwin got up, and looked in the bucket. To his astonishment it was full of water.
"See my Father, you are not so old, just perhaps a little tired and forgetful." Myrddin smiled at his Father. "And now we have time to play."
Orwin remembered the words of the Keeper.
"Be not afraid or too concerned at what you may see or experience as he grows."
Perhaps for now he wouldn't tell Gwen.
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