Tristan and Isolde - 02 - The Maid of the White Hands: The Second of the Tristan and Isolde Novels Read Free

over, he knew, and her powers of seduction were beyond compare. Already he felt his pulse quicken under her dark, lustrous stare.
    “You were the best of my lovers,” she said huskily. “But you know that.”
    Merlin laughed. “I know no such thing, only that you must have told all of them the same tale. Have no fear for Isolde, I shall not bar her way. My only desire is to keep these islands safe.”
    The Queen split the chamber with a raucous laugh. “You’re lying already, old man.” She chuckled, fighting for breath. “Well, what else did I expect?”
    Merlin’s eyes flared. “Lying?”
    “You love Arthur, not some dream of peace. And Tristan, too, whether you admit it or not. All the world knows you see yourself in them. You’ve never forgotten what it was to be like them, fatherless and disowned. So you cherish them both, and watch over them to save them from suffering as you did. Lost boys, wounded men, all of you, all fatherless and disowned, all born to fight and struggle for your own.”
    She lay back exhausted. Merlin’s smile emitted a sulfurous fire. “What of it?”
    “Isolde was the greatest blessing of my clouded life. To me, she’s been the living light in an unsteady world and the beautiful daughter I never dared dream I would have. But she’s nothing to you. You’d sacrifice her in a second to save Arthur or Tristan.”
    Merlin watched the light fading in her eyes. “Then you must trust to the Great Ones that her fate lies with one of theirs.”
    Far off, the slow sad music of humanity began a dying fall. Merlin closed the heavy eyelids with a practiced hand. “And you will have to trust me, too, my dear.”

CHAPTER 2

    The Queen of Ireland’s dying?”
    “Maybe gone already, sir. She was sinking as I sailed, beyond recall.”
    “And no one there saw you come or go?”
    There was a quiet laugh. “You know me, sir. You pay me to see and not be seen. Even the King doesn’t know my face.”
    The knight tensed. “My uncle sees more than you think.”
    “Then Cornwall is blessed in you both, Sir Andred.” The gray figure made an obsequious bow. “King Mark to hold a watch over state affairs, and yourself to be His Majesty’s eyes and ears.”
    Had he offended the young knight? The speaker gave an inward shrug. All the world knew that the King lived to hunt, and left everything else in his clever nephew’s hands. But no one would argue with that black-eyed stare.
    Andred turned away. “You have done well. And you will be well paid. Stay near at hand, I shall need you again.”
    With a flick of his head, he dismissed the shadowy messenger, his mind aflame. The old Queen dying? Then Isolde would be Queen. That meant ruler of the Western Isle in her own right, as well as Queen of Cornwall as wife of King Mark. Queen twice over, then? He gave an angry laugh. That was too much. What would she do now?
    He moved into the window and gazed out over the castle walls. Autumn was dying and winter was hard on its heels. The last yellow leaves haunted the woodland like ghosts, and the dark months ahead were massing on the horizon like storm clouds at sea. From its hilltop by the shore, Castle Dore commanded scenes of melancholy beauty all around. But Andred never let such thoughts cloud his mind. Let Druids and dream-weavers worship this rocky land with its wild coasts, deep forests, and sunlit meadows carpeted with flowers. Any fool knew that land was only power, if a man held it right.
    But first he had to call the land his own. Mine. When will it be mine? Andred clenched his fists. Would he ever forgive the Gods for making him the King’s nephew, not his son? And the son of a son too, so that Tristan as the son of a daughter stood before him in the Mother-right? Well, the Old Ones liked to joke. But the true man of destiny made sure that the laughter stuck in their throats.
    As I shall, never fear.
    With Elva.
    With her love.
    He scanned the sky for a sight of the watery sun. Noon: soon she