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Gwilym knelt down on the wet ground and added his tears to his son’s. |
“How goes the tower, Gwilym?” were Merlin’s first words.
Gwilym was intimidated by this old man of whom he had heard many stories. His bright eyes sparkled under his bushy eyebrows. His long, grey hair made him seem much older than he was. His hands were strong and showing no signs of age and his well muscled arms handled the reins expertly.
“It goes well, Sir. The wooden structure is almost finished and we now need to face it with stone.” Gwilym remembered yesterday’s confrontation at the quarry and his mind switched to this other problem in his life. “But now the quarryman wants to charge us for stone, even though the quarry belongs to the church.”
“And what will you do to solve this?”
“I’ll get an order from the bishop to make him give up the stone.”
“And will that be your answer to the next problem that arises?”
“What’s that, Sir?”
“What will you do the next time you run into a problem like this with your tower?”
Gwilym felt like a fool. What was he missing? “I can’t guess all the problems that will arise; I just have to deal with them as they come up.”
“What will you do if the men decide to stop working? Or if the priest says he wants the tower to be taller, or if some knight asks that it be made round?”
Gwilym thought about this question. “I need a letter that says what the tower should be and who is to pay for it. And I need it signed by someone everybody respects. Like the king! Even the bishop has to listen to the king. Is that what I need, Merlin?”
Merlin’s eyes twinkled but he said nothing. Gwilym looked at him curiously and said, “You know a lot more about building towers than you let on. Can I ask you other questions later on when I hit new problems?”
“Did I answer your first one?”
“Not with an answer; that’s true; but you asked the questions that let me come up with the right answer. When I run into more problems, shall I shout at the old
Willow tree for you?”
“Do I look like a man who comes when shouted at across a lake?”
“No, I suppose not. But I feel I will need your help. I can read, you know. Can you recommend a book that I can use for advice?”
Merlin looked seriously at Gwilym and put one hand on his shoulder. “When you need help, I will be there. I ask for one thing in return. You will do what is asked of you, by Grainne or myself, without question.”
Gwilym felt his eyes held by Merlin’s, and it took him what felt like minutes to break off the stare. “I don’t suppose you’ll be asking me to do anything evil. I’m not superstitious like most of the village folk and I don’t believe it’s witch-craft you’ll be doing. So the answer is yes. I’ll do what’s asked of me and trust you’ll be there when I need help.”
“Now, concerning your wife’s birth; I thought you were going to send for Grainne at first signs. Why did you wait so long?”
Gwilym shook his head, wondering what type of magic or hypnotism had caused him to calmly discuss his tower before speaking of his pressing concerns for Kaitlyn. “Tirion sent her daughter for Grainne right away. Must have been almost a day ago. She asked me to look for any signs of her.”
Merlin looked sharply at Gwilym and then studied the road. “Why don’t we look for those signs as we ride back?”
With added anxiety, Gwilym scanned the road on his side of the cart, and they finished the drive in silence.
On arrival back in the village they met Bleddyn, who led them to the gate of the convent. “They took her in there. Grainne was allowed in an hour ago. I’m scared, Da. Ma looked frightened and she was crying so sadly. She was asking for you.”
Merlin led Gwilym through the gate but they were stopped at the door by the Mother Superior. “No men