He forced a smile. “Well, we are all quite happy to have you back here.” The smile grew even wider. “And to have your cakes again. They have been missed by so many people. The ones we had while you were gone were nowhere near so good. Only this morning Sir Bors was saying-”
“The Sheriff of Darrowfield questioned us, sir. As if we might be criminals.”
“Sheriff Peter? I’m sure he was only doing his duty, Marian. He had to gather as much information as he could. I would not be concerned.”
“How can we not be concerned, sir? A lord was killed, and the sheriff questioned us.”
“Please, do not give it another thought. I will write to Peter myself, vouching for you.”
“Thank you, sir.” She relaxed a bit.
He took a seat and stretched his legs out. “I would like to ask you about your experience there. Nothing deep-please believe that I do not suspect you of any villainy.”
She thanked him for saying so; her sons shifted uncomfortably.
“Now.” He paused slightly, then decided that being direct with her would be the most effective way to proceed. “What was the atmosphere like at Darrowfield? After I left, I mean.”
She looked directly at him. “Tense, sir. You saw how they fought.”
“The lord and lady, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“And what about Morgan le Fay? And her son Mordred? And Uther?”
“They were there, too, sir.”
“Yes, I know it. How did they cope with the tense atmosphere?”
“They-they-I’m not at all certain I should say, sir.”
“Say it.” He realized he had been acting the professional interrogator and made his tone softer. A reassuring smile crept across his lips. “You understand, this is not an official inquiry into the murders. That was Peter’s job, and he seems to have done it well enough. My interest is-well, more personal. You know how we politicians love gossip.”
“Yes, and the more malicious, the better.” For the first time one of Marian’s sons spoke up; he was not certain which it was, Robert or Wayne.
Merlin stiffened slightly. “Not necessarily. But the Prussians have a term, schadenfreude. It means a delight at the misfortunes and suffering of others. I am afraid too many of us are guilty of it. But I do not mind telling you, I felt supremely uncomfortable in Lord Darrowfield’s house. I would enjoy hearing the worst.”
The other son laughed. “You never stop assassinating one another, do you? Sometimes literally, sometimes not. But I mean-”
This was not going at all the way Merlin wanted. He interrupted forcefully. “I would appreciate it if you would not-”
The first son got to his feet. “What do you want to know? We don’t know who killed the old bastard, any more than you do.”
“I am not suggesting that you-”
An instant later the second son was on his feet. “You will not find a way to make us responsible for what happened.”
“But I only-”
Finally Marian spoke up. “Boys! Stop this at once! Merlin is a friend. This is Camelot, not Darrowfield. We are home now.”
The twins calmed down and resumed their seats. Sulking, one of them said, “Sorry, sir.” The tone of his apology was not convincing, to Merlin’s ear.
“It is quite all right. I know how stressful it was, having been in that castle for a day or two myself. Being there for an extended period, as you were, must have been unpleasant in the extreme.
“But we are avoiding the real issue. What I want to talk to you about is what you may have seen and heard while you were there. From the other servants. You know very well that they have a different reaction to persons and events than those of us who are higher up.”
“We saw nothing,” said one of the twins. “We heard even less.”
“Come now.” Merlin did his best to sound cordial and conciliatory. “Lord Darrowfield’s staff must at least have expressed sympathy for either him or his wife.”
“We don’t know a thing about that.”
The interview was not going at all the way Merlin had hoped. He found the boys’ attitude difficult to comprehend. He made a mental note to discuss it with Nimue; she so often had an insight into people that was beyond him, especially when it came to the lower orders. And she was a shrewd judge of character.
Suddenly Simon of York rushed into the room. “Merlin! So this is where you’ve been.” His tone was vaguely accu satory. “We’ve scoured the castle looking for you.”
Mildly baffled by Simon’s urgent tone, Merlin told him, “The four of us have been getting better acquainted, that is all. Is something wrong?”
“There is an emergency. A medical emergency. Fedora wants you.”
It caught him quite off guard. He got to his feet. “Fedora, the old midwife? She must be ninety-a walking medical emergency herself. What on earth can she want me for?”
An expression of concern crossed Marian’s face. “Fedora the midwife?”
Simon ignored her. “Come along. Hurry. Sir Dinadan’s wife is giving birth. It is not going well.”
“Oh. I see.” To Marian and the boys he said, “Thank you for meeting with me. We must continue this at a more opportune moment.”
One of the twins smiled; the other did not. Marian stood and caught at Merlin’s sleeve. “You will not forget to write to the sheriff about us?”
“I will do it the moment I am free. You have my word.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Merlin followed Simon to the wing of the castle where most of the knights resided. Before very long they had reached Sir Dinadan’s rooms. The knight was standing in the hallway, pacing, looking more than mildly alarmed. “Merlin. Thank God you’ve come.”
“What is happening?”
“They are inside.”
“I would have assumed. But what-”
Suddenly the air was cut by a low, piercing wail. A woman, presumably Lady Dinadan, was in severe pain. The sound actually made Merlin shudder.
Dinadan grabbed him by the arm. “For God’s sake, you have to save my son. And my wife.”
“Son? How do you know it is a boy?”
“My family always produces boys. I wouldn’t have it otherwise.”
“Of course.”
Simon interrupted this. “Perhaps you should step inside, Merlin, to evaluate the situation for yourself.”
“Yes, you are right. There may be little time to spare. Step in with me; I will need an assistant.”
“Me? Merlin. This is childbirth.” Simon was flabbergasted at the suggestion. “I don’t know a thing about women. Or about delivering babies. I would be worse than useless.”
Merlin glared at him, snorted and rushed inside the chamber.
Lady Dinadan was on her bed, undressed. Her body was shuddering; it was clear she was in pain. The top of the infant’s head showed. The woman moaned again; she seemed not to recognize Merlin.
Bending over her was an elderly woman, stoop-backed, dressed in black, incredibly wrinkled. She was telling the lady, “Push. Push. You must keep pushing.”
“Fedora.” Merlin kept his voice hushed. “What is the problem?”
The old woman looked up at him. “Thank the goddess you’ve come, sir. The baby’s head is too large for the birth canal. It is stuck there and won’t come out.”
“I see.” He bent down to examine the woman on the bed. Softly he said to her, “Do not keep pushing. It will not come out, and you will only cause yourself more suffering. The infant, too, most likely.”
“I am not pushing.” The woman’s face was wet with tears. “The contractions-” She let out a low, horrible shriek.
Merlin rushed back out to the hallway. “Simon, go and find my assistant Petronus. He will likely be in the classroom at this time. Tell him to bring my surgical tools. As quickly as he can. If you cannot find him, get Colin.”
Simon looked on the verge of panic. He trembled, and he seemed rooted to the floor.
“Go!
” Merlin bellowed. “Waste no time!”
Simon finally found his legs and ran off down the corridor. Merlin turned to Sir Dinadan and explained what was happening. “The situation could not be more grave.”
“Merlin, you have to save them.”
“I will do everything I can, believe me.”
“But-but what can you do?”
“Difficult childbirth is so-There are several-” He paused and took a deep breath. “When a child’s head is too large, sometimes we can pull it out with forceps. But the child is often damaged in the process. Mentally, I mean, if not physically. If it is too large for even that to work, the usual procedure is to use a speculum to shatter its skull. Once the infant’s skull has been reduced to fragments, it will emerge from the birth canal easily. It will die, of course. But the mother’s life will be preserved.”
“That cannot happen. This is my son.”
“Or daughter.”
“Son.” He said it with force. “What about-There must be another way.”
Merlin sighed deeply. “In rare cases it is possible to cut open the womb and bring the child out that way. It is an extreme procedure, and there are grave risks. For both mother and child.”
“Then do not do that.”
“It may be our only hope. If you are so determined to have the child survive, that is. And it can be an effective procedure. It is the way Julius Caesar was born.”
For the first time Dinadan’s expression changed. “Caesar? Julius Caesar?” He seemed to derive pleasure from saying the name. “My son could be born the same way as Julius Caesar?”
“It is a medical procedure, Dinadan. It confers no pedigree.”
But Dinadan was lost in reverie. “Julius Caesar. My son.”
“Dinadan!” He caught the knight by the shoulders and shook him.
This snapped him out of it. “Yes, yes, you must do that. Do whatever you can to preserve both their lives.”
Relief showed in Merlin’s features. He had brought the man to reality, at least for the moment. He forced himself not to wonder what kind of life the child might face if its mind and character turned out less than imperial. Or if it was female.
An instant later Simon returned with Nimue in tow; she was carrying Merlin’s surgical kit.
“You could not find Petronus?”
“He was nowhere to be found.”
“Well, Colin is more than able. It is time he learned the facts about human reproduction and women’s anatomy.” He smiled at Nimue, and she returned it. Merlin never missed an opportunity to promote “Colin’s” cover.
He took her aside and quickly explained what was happening. “Dinadan wants me to cut open the womb and deliver the child in that unnatural way.”
“But what does she-?”
“It is our only hope for delivering the child whole and healthy.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Dinadan wants it to be male, and to be another Caesar.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Let us concentrate on saving it, for the moment, and worry about that later.”
The two of them went back into the birth room. Fedora was there, on her knees beside Lady Dinadan’s bed. She looked up at them. “Thank the goddess you’re back.”
“You must stay here to assist us if we need you, Fedora.”
She showed him a scrap of cloth she had been holding to her chest. “I tied a strip of cloth into tight knots. It delayed the contractions.”
“Yes, of course it did.” He turned to Nimue and told her which surgical instruments he would need. “And send someone for more cloths. There is apt to be a great deal of blood. Fedora, you must be prepared to hold the lady down. This will be painful for her.”
Nimue went, found a servant, explained what was needed and was back beside him in only moments. Merlin took his sharpest surgical knife and went to work. A salve helped dull the pain she felt, but it did not do the job completely. Lady Dinadan cried out, shuddered, wailed almost unbearably. But, held down by Nimue and Fedora, she maintained as much composure as she could manage.
Thirty minutes later, Merlin was finished. The baby was indeed a boy; his father was happy. Fedora went off to find a wet nurse. Merlin attended his patients at their bedside. The infant, weakened by its difficult birth, had not cried once during or after the delivery; now it slept soundly at its mother’s breast. Merlin thought the child was still at peril, but he refrained from saying so. To Lady Dinadan he said, “You have done well. But you lost a great deal of blood. You must rest in bed for at least a week.”
“May I see my husband?” Her voice was weak, almost inaudible.
“Yes, of course. But not for long. Remember, you must rest.”
His job finished, he returned to his tower. There was no one above, to fire the boiler for the lift, so slowly, painfully, he made his way up the stairs. Reading Greek philosophy would relax him; it always did. He sat and pulled out a favorite manuscript-Plotinus. His raven Roc flew into the room, perched on his shoulder and rubbed his cheek with the top of its head. Before long, philosophy or no philosophy, he nodded off.
Then later, just before sunset, there came a knock at his door. It was Fedora, the midwife.
Merlin roused himself. “Fedora. You should not be here. Climbing all these stairs cannot be good for you.”
She smiled; most of her teeth were gone. “You climb them.”
“I live here. I have to. Besides, I have my lift. You should have ridden it.”
“Modern things.” She made a sour face and mimicked spitting.
He chuckled. “That is right. You believe in the old superstitions, do you not?”
“The babies I deliver all live.”
“Would this one have, do you think? If I had not come?”
“It died.”
“Oh.”
“When I got back with the wet nurse we found it lying quite still at its mother’s nipple.”
For a moment he sat silently, digesting this. “Well. It was such a difficult delivery… It was amazing that it was not stillborn. Or that we did not have to kill it to save its mother’s life.”
“The babies I deliver all live.” Her smile was gone. “Learn that lesson.”
“Superstition…” He let his voice trail off. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt inadequate. “At least we saved the mother.”
“She died, too. Not much later.”
“Oh.”
“I could have worked more charms. You wouldn’t let me.”
“Is that what you came to tell me? That scattering wolf-bane and sacrificing puppies would have saved them?”
“I am more than twenty years older than you. I know so much more. How can you have learned so little?” Suddenly, explosively, she laughed.
“What do you know, Fedora?”
“A midwife learns many secrets. We deal with birth. Next to death it is the one great fact in human affairs. I leave death to you and the king.”
“Do not bother me with this rubbish. Charms. Tying knots in strips of cloth. The human race is mired in rot like that. Hopelessly. Look at how Europe has declined. Can you do anything to stop this plague?”
Again she laughed at him. “I will go now. I am a tired old woman.”
“You are a perverse old woman. Leave me alone.”
“I tell you, Merlin, I know so many things that you don’t. Not for all your books and philosophers.” She pointed at the scroll in his hand.
“Of course. Get out of here, will you? Take the lift down. It should be ready; I had Colin fire the boiler.”
“I had rather walk.”
“Fine, but do not complain to me about your aching, arthritic knees.”
“The child is dead, Merlin, and its mother as well. Sleep soundly.”
The old woman left. Merlin stroked Roc’s head, and it cooed softly. Where was Nimue? Death. Plague. Murder. This night, of all nights, he needed company.
FIVE
Plague. The word, quite justifiab
ly, caused panic.
More and more reports reached Camelot, often multiple ones in the same day. Dover was devastated; the disease spread more quickly there than seemed quite possible. Not everyone who was infected died; but the survivors, on the assumption they could not be reinfected, were pressed into service collecting and burying the dead in mass graves. In Canterbury, once it became inescapable that plague had arrived, there were riots. People hoarded food; robbers attacked the well-to-do and took their gold and their supplies of household goods, against the coming food shortages. The wealthy barricaded themselves in their houses, partly for protection from the mobs, partly in hopes of avoiding the disease.
Rumors of what was happening spread more quickly than the disease itself. There were riots in London days before any cases manifested there. Merlin and Britomart put up a map of southern England and kept careful note of outbreaks, riots and the other attendant horrors.
“Look,” Merlin said to her. “It is following the main trade routes-the roads. Spreading like a living thing, like a carpet of flowers.”
“Odd analogy, Merlin. But then, you always look at things in the most perverse way possible.”
“Perverse? If you say so, Britomart. But no one has yet found a way to combat this awful disease. It strikes so quickly, its victims are often dead before the physician can arrive.”
She pounded her fist. “We must have Arthur issue an edict. Have it proclaimed in every town and village in the country. No unnecessary public gatherings. Markets must be canceled. No festivals of any kind, not even religious ones. The people will want religion, for comfort, but they must pray at home, with their families, to whatever gods they choose to believe in.”
“Yes, Brit, of course. Those are all very sensible precautions. But…”
“Yes?”
“There are physicians in every town of any importance.”
“You’ve seen the reports. A lot of them have fled to the hills, Merlin.” She made a sour face. “Doctors.”
“Still, a great many remain. A network of communication among them must be set up, so that they can share information. If we can discover why it is that some people die of this disease while others survive and still others never get sick at all, it may give us a clue how to fight it. We must have Arthur send out riders to help establish the kind of communication this will take.”
The Pendragon Murders Page 9