The Road to Avalon Read Free Page A

warm and Merlin even went so far as to strip himself and step into the cold, running water. Arthur followed suit a little gingerly. Clearly, bathing was not a familiar occupation for him. The sun slanted through the trees, casting dapples of light and shade on the water and on their naked bodies. Merlin watched Arthur’s tentative splashes, and reached out toward the boy to wet his hair. Arthur, moving like lightning, leapt back out of his reach. Merlin was so startled he almost lost his balance.
    The boy’s fists were raised in front of him, his whole thin, child’s body tensed. “Don’t touch me,” he snarled.
    Merlin stared, stunned by the expression on the boy’s face. After a moment, when he had recovered his breath, “I was just going to wash your hair,” he said quietly.
    “I’ll do it,” Arthur said. Then, “I don’t like to be touched.”
    “All right,” Merlin replied with as much composure as he could muster. “You do it, then.”
    When they were finished bathing, and Arthur was dry, Merlin brought out the clothes from his saddlebag. “For you,” he said. He did not attempt to hand them to the boy, but laid them down and backed away so that Arthur could pick them up himself.
    The mark on the boy’s cheek had not been dirt but a fading bruise. And as Arthur had washed in the stream, Merlin had clearly seen the thin white scars that crisscrossed the boy’s back and buttocks and thighs.
    No wonder Arthur had made no complaint about leaving Esus.
    Merlin’s thoughts were bleak as he broke camp and prepared to start north and east. Whether Arthur would make a king or no, he was thankful he had come to Cornwall to find this grandson. He only hoped, for both their sakes, that he had not come too late.

Chapter 2
     
    M ERLIN got him a pony. There were only two horses in the village and Arthur had never ridden them, but he did not tell that to Merlin. Instead he watched carefully as Merlin mounted, and then he did the same.
    The pony was splendid. Arthur let his legs hang down and relaxed into the horse’s back. He could feel the stretch of muscles right through the saddle.
    The man, Merlin, was talking. “We are going to my villa of Avalon. Avalon will be your new home. I think you will like it. It’s called Avalon because of its apple orchards. It’s famous for its apple orchards.”
    The man spoke softly, gently, clearly. As if he were speaking to an idiot, Arthur thought. He shot Merlin a look from under lowered lashes. He didn’t know what the man’s motives were, but he didn’t trust him. It wasn’t likely that he had ridden all the way into Cornwall just to collect the son of an “old friend.”
    “It used to be one of the most famous villas in the country,” the man was going on. “My family were princes of the Durotriges tribe and they built the villa as their palace.” The old man gave him a deprecating look. “It’s not a palace any longer, Arthur. It is a working farm. But in these troubled days, it is luxury to have all you need at your fingertips, I suppose.”
    Princes of the Durotriges. Arthur was even more suspicious. What could this man want with him? A sudden thought crossed his mind. He had heard of what some men did with boys. His nostrils flared a little as he looked at the man riding so calmly beside him.
    Iron-gray hair, still very thick. Finely drawn features. Blue eyes. His red woolen cloak was clasped at his shoulder by a brooch of obvious value. Arthur relaxed a little. Such a man would not need to seek out an obscure Cornish boy to satisfy his deviant tastes.
    Merlin was still talking about this Avalon. “There are several other people living in the house besides myself. First there is Ector, my steward and my friend. He was a soldier under Ambrosius before he was wounded. He has a son who also lives at Avalon. Caius, or Cai as he is always called. You and he can have lessons together. He is about your age.”
    Arthur was not sure of his own age. He said,