A Promise Is A Promise

The last sunset of the millennium glowed on the horizon, a blushing promise of the New Age.  The Queen stood on the balcony outside her rooms, as she had at year’s end since the very beginning.



Fifteen centuries had passed since those far off, glorious days; time enough to build a world of peace and justice, fulfill the prophecies, and defy the fate predicted by the soothsayers.  Nevertheless, it had been a near thing.



Gwen shuddered to think of what might have been, and she gave thanks for all that had come to pass through Merlin’s promise.  The land was fruitful, the people content.  Not for them the Dark Ages that had beset the rest of Europe.  Not for them the endless striving for conquest and the grief of war.  They had celebrated the Winter Solstice just ten days earlier, with a bonfire that lit the night sky.  Druids had spoken sacred words to name the turning of the season.  Gwen sighed contentedly.



Footsteps sounded behind Gwen; she had known he would come.



“This New Age makes me give thanks for Merlin’s promise” murmured Artur.



Gwen nodded. “I know.”



Someone else entered the room. Gwen smiled; she had known he would come, also.



Lance stood with them as the last light of the twentieth century faded.



They moved inside, and Gwen sat between the two men on the long couch facing the fire.



“I wonder what Merlin would say about what we’ve done with the time he gave us.” Gwen looked into the flames, as if she might see the old Druid.



“He’d snort and harrumph, and ask if there was anything to drink,” said Lance, smiling at the thought.



“He’d ask what we had planned for the new millennium, and complain about the oak groves we’ve lost,” sad Artur.



“Not so!” said Gwen. “We have saved more groves than we have lost, and the Old Ways have survived.”



The men nodded. They spoke of when the first Christians had come, wanting to burn the sacred groves and fell the great trees to build halls for their God.  Artur had offered them a place amongst his people, but he had forbidden the felling of the ancient trees. The Christians had left soon after.



Gwen smiled.  Artur had done that with all who came, offering them a place in the land he had unified.  Some stayed, their blood and customs blending with the old blood, strengthening it.  Then Merlin had woven his magic, and Albion had faded from the World.  Gwen sent a silent blessing to the old Druid, wherever he was.



“I had a message from Mordred today,” said Artur.



“How is he?” asked Gwen.  She loved Mordred like a son, despite the travails of his youth and the destructiveness of his mother.   



“He’s invited us all North for the Spring Equinox.  Says he has a surprise for us.”



#



Three months later, in the greening of the new season, Gwen, Artur, and Lance rode North along the great cobbled road that ran the length of the land. Gwen was humming a tune she remembered from her childhood, a simple melody celebrating the return of the sun after the long winter.



Her horse shied, jolting her almost out of the saddle.



An old man stood in the middle of the road, cloak flapping, arms spread wide.



Artur cried out, lunged from his horse, and grabbed the old man in a fierce hug.



“Merlin!”



They sat together under the trees, the dappled light of spring flickering over their faces as they spoke of the past, and then of the future.



“You promised us time enough to realize the dream,” said Gwen, sitting close to the old Druid.



Merlin nodded, his white beard bobbing up and down.



“It took longer than we expected,” said Artur, smiling ruefully.



“A promise is a promise,” said Merlin.  “Besides which, building something always takes longer than tearing it down.  The rest of the World has done quite a bit of both since I hid Albion in the mists.”



A sudden frisson of unease made Gwen ask, “Why are you here now?”



“Ah. Not lost any of your brightness over the years, have you?”  Merlin fixed Gwen with his hawk-like eyes.  “I come with a choice for you,” he said, looking at each of them in turn.  “The world has changed since I wove my magic.  There are many wonders out there beyond the mists.  I was wondering if you might like to be a part of it.”



Gwen gasped.



Merlin laughed.  “It is a New Age, after all.”



They talked then of what the World might hold for Albion.  Merlin described the wonders of electricity, cars, trains, and flying machines.  He spoke of magic computer boxes and something marvelous called the World Wide Web.  They listened like children entranced by fairy tales.



“But what of the people?” asked Gwen. “Are they happy? Is there peace? Does everyone have a home and food enough to eat?”



Merlin shook his head sadly and told them of the wars, the famines, and the epidemics. He spoke of horrors not seen in Albion for over a thousand years, and of horrors they could not even imagine.  As the shadows of evening reached them, Merlin rose to leave.



“Look for me on the Summer Solstice.  Tell me then what you have decided.”



#



Three months later, Gwen, Artur, and Lance stood on the balcony, watching the sun set.  Soon they would join the others in the oak grove, but there was something to be said first.



“I cannot sacrifice what we have built for the things Merlin described, no matter how wondrous they may be,” said Gwen, shrugging off a frisson of regret.



Artur nodded. “Nor I.”



Lance smiled. “Of course not, dear ones.  What’s it all been for otherwise?”



They left to join the line of people processing to the sacred oak grove.



Merlin’s laughter echoed on the summer breeze.