The Pendragon Murders

by J. M. C. Blair

  “So, Petronus has discovered your secret.”

  “Yes. I wish he hadn’t.” She shrugged. “But I was sick. He wanted to undress me, to help make me more comfortable. The only way I could think to stop him was to tell him the truth.”

  “And what about Marian? And her son? Do they know?” Nimue shook her head. “I don’t think so, no. I don’t see how they could.”

  “Petronus…” His tone was offhand.

  “No, Petronus is quite thrilled to be in on the secret. He is excited by the thought of a woman dressing as a man.”

  Merlin laughed. “Precocious boy. So, at least for the time being, and as far as anyone in Camelot knows, you are still Colin. Excellent.”

  “What do you mean, ‘for the time being’?”

  “Secrets have a way of leaking out, whether we want them to or not.” They had reached the lowest level of the castle. “As I hope will be the case when we interview our unwilling guests.”

  There were guards posted in the dungeon, of course. Nimue asked Merlin if they should perhaps take one with them as they interrogated the prisoners.

  “No. I do not think that would be productive.” He smiled. “Besides, the cells are so small, and Marmaduke and Lulua are so large.”

  “What about the others?”

  “There will be five of us in one cell. That is more than crowded enough.”

  Marian had been confined in a little cell in Camelot’s basement. Each of her sons had his own cell as well. Merlin ordered that both of the boys be brought to her cell. As he sat and waited for the jailors to bring them, he questioned Marian.

  “You know Colin.”

  “Yes, of course.” Marian was made of ice. “He is the rat who gave you some pretext to arrest us.”

  “That is not so. Colin is here to make notes, nothing more. I hope you do not mind.”

  She laughed at him. “And if I do?”

  Merlin brushed that aside. “You were at Darrowfield. Tell me what happened there after my party left.”

  “I’ve told everyone who’s asked.” Marian paused to glare at “Colin,” then went on. “Nothing in particular happened there. We helped the lord’s servants make ready for the feast he was planning.” She seemed uncertain whether she should be saying this, or whether Merlin would believe her. Her manner was hesitant. But she went on. “I even gave them the recipe for my honey cakes. Then word came that the lord and his sons had been-had been-”

  “Slaughtered.” Merlin smiled faintly. “Like sheep. Where were you and your sons when the murder occurred?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You suspect us? So that explains this imprisonment. But we-”

  The guards entered with Robert and Wayne. Merlin gestured that they should take seats beside their mother. “Go on with what you were saying, Marian.”

  She ignored this and told her sons, “Merlin appears to think we murdered Lord Darrowfield and his boys.”

  “What?!” One of the twins jumped to his feet, plainly angry at this. “Why would we? What was that old fool to us?” The other boy remained seated, his features passive. Merlin was uncertain which of them was which. But he took a guess.

  “And you, Robert, you gave us drugged wine that night at Lulua’s mill.”

  “No!” The more agitated of the twins began to wave his arms. “I did not! It was Lulua’s wine, the wine that was there.”

  “Why would Lulua have drugged wine in her house?”

  “How do I know? She was a witch.”

  “Point taken. But Robert, who gave you the wine? Who told you to serve that particular wine to everyone?”

  The boy paused. “I don’t remember. Someone on your staff, I think it was.”

  “One of us asked to be drugged?”

  “I told you I don’t remember.”

  Merlin changed tack. “Lulua had an herb garden at the mill. You had access to it. What grew there?”

  Robert stared at him and said nothing. But his brother spoke up. “So there was a garden. What of that? There are herb gardens everywhere. Lady Darrowfield had one at that castle of theirs. There is a large one here at Camelot.”

  Merlin looked at Marian. “You are a cook. You know herbs.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which ones did Lady Darrowfield grow?”

  “I can’t remember that. I never really used the herb garden, just the stores of honey they had. They had spices already stored in the kitchen. There was no need.”

  “Were there any poisons?”

  “I tell you I don’t know.”

  “No. Of course not. But Marian, there is something else I must ask you. Something that may be… awkward. I am not certain it is a thing I should ask you with your sons here. Shall I have them taken back to their cells?”

  “You’ve only just had them brought here.”

  “Even so. I-”

  “I do not keep secrets from my boys. Whatever you want to know, you can ask with them here.”

  Her manner was more than slightly assertive, and it caught him off guard. After a moment’s pause he went on. “Very well, then. Marian, I must ask you-”

  “Yes?”

  “Who is the father of your sons?”

  The question seemed to surprise her. “The-? Why would you ask such a thing? What can that possibly have to do with-?”

  “I need to know. A great deal depends on your answer.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Perhaps even your lives.”

  “Our lives!” Wayne jumped to his feet. “Why are you threatening us? You can’t possibly think we’ve done anything.”

  Merlin ignored his outburst. “Marian?”

  She remained silent.

  “I ask you again: Who is the father of these boys?”

  Still she said nothing.

  Softly he went on. “Come, now, you can tell me.” Even more softly, almost as an afterthought, he asked her, “Is it the king?”

  Marian’s eyes widened. “The king? Is that what this is about? Half the court says you’re a fool, Merlin, and they are right.”

  More vehemently he repeated his question. “Is it the king?”

  Marian was working to calm herself, and it showed. Finally she uttered one word. “No.”

  “Then who-?”

  “I was young. I was an attractive young woman, though years of working in Camelot’s kitchen have ended that. I had a great many lovers in those days. Knights, squires, courtiers.” She added with force, “But not Arthur. Not the king. Never him.”

  Slowly Merlin got to his feet. “Very well, then. If you are telling me the truth-”

  “I am!”

  “Then that ends this inquiry.”

  The three of them were clearly puzzled by this. Robert asked, “Then you will release us?”

  “In time. There are still a great many unanswered questions.”

  “When?”

  “In time, I said. For the moment you will be returned to your cells. I thank you for answering my questions.”

  “But you don’t believe us!” Wayne could not contain his anger.

  “I have not said so.”

  “We nursed this fool back to health.” He pointed at Nimue. “How much clearer could it be that we’re not villains? Let us loose!”

  “In time. That is all I can tell you. In time.”

  He left the cell, with Nimue just behind him, gave instructions to the guards and headed for the wing of the dungeon that held Lulua and Marmaduke.

  The cot in Lulua’s cell was tiny. As they entered, she was lying on it. Or trying to. Parts of her hung over the edge. Seeing Merlin enter, she sat up, with some difficulty.

  “Good morning, Lulua. I trust you slept well.” His manner was magisterial. “You are losing weight. Prison food must agree with you.”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Wizard.”

  “I am not. I am never sarcastic. I was merely expressing friendly concern. This is my assistant Colin. He will be taking notes on our… conversation.”

  Lulua snorted, the
n laughed out loud. “Conversation.”

  But Merlin was not about to be distracted. He sat and said to her offhandedly, “I would like to know what instructions you had from Morgan le Fay pertaining to Arthur and myself.”

  Serenely she closed her eyes and said, “None.”

  “So your treason was entirely your own.” He smiled. “You were not acting on orders from a superior.”

  “I am a priestess. I have no superiors.”

  “Interesting viewpoint. But clinging to that argument will hardly benefit you in your trial.”

  Lulua struggled to her feet and began pacing. “Try me. Go ahead. What I did I did for England. That is hardly treason.”

  “A jury of twelve men may think otherwise.” He turned to Nimue. “Note that she insists she was acting on her own.” Then he looked back to Lulua. “And I suppose Marmaduke was likewise acting solely on his own initiative?”

  “Ask him.”

  “I intend to, believe me.”

  Heavily she sat down again. “Arthur Pendragon seized England by force of arms. His kingship is an outrage to every principle of justice.”

  “It is refreshing to hear you speak with such candor. But you must realize that you are not doing yourself any good. That amounts to an admission of treason. English justice-”

  Lulua laughed. “Justice? From an ambitious warlord like Arthur? Why don’t you go away and prepare for my execution? I am prepared for the goddess to take me to her bosom.”

  “Of course you are.” Merlin nodded to Nimue and they both got to their feet. “As you wish, Lulua. If you decide that you would like to tell me something that might mitigate your offence, have the guards summon me.” He stepped toward the cell door. “Oh-one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Why did you keep drugged wine at your mill?”

  She laughed. The cot creaked under her. “Are you serious? Why would I do that?”

  “Drugged with narcotics from your herb garden.”

  “You think I grew belladonna to use on myself?”

  “Belladonna.” The clouds in his mind seemed to part.

  He froze for an instant.

  Nimue asked him what was wrong.

  “Nothing.” He recovered himself quickly and smiled a wide smile at her. “What other poisons did you grow, Lulua?”

  “Go away. I want to sleep. And have the guards bring me some food.”

  “You can eat in your sleep?”

  “Go away, Wizard.”

  Outside the cell, Merlin paused for a moment, evidently lost in thought.

  Nimue asked if anything was wrong.

  “No, of course not. But she grew belladonna. In the name of everything human, I wonder if-”

  “Belladonna is a poison, Merlin. Why would anyone grow it?”

  He shrugged. “Morgan does, I suspect. Are you certain you’ve recovered from your illness?”

  The change of topic left her reeling for a moment. “My-Yes, of course. But why do you ask?”

  “If you are quite over your ailment-”

  “Yes?” She was suspicious. What could be on his mind?

  “If you are quite recovered, I will want you to go on a little mission for me.”

  “A mission.” She was deadpan.

  “Yes. To Darrowfield.”

  “To-! Merlin, this doesn’t make any sense. Are we investigating treason, or-?”

  “I want you to inspect Lady Darrowfield’s herb garden. I need to know whether she is growing belladonna, like Lulua.”

  “Belladonna?” Nimue leaned casually against the wall, grinning. “I thought we were investigating treason, trying to get to the bottom of it. What has belladonna-?”

  “Belladonna, as you said, is a poison.” He smiled like a fox.

  “I’m quite aware of that, Merlin. But-”

  “The symptoms of belladonna poisoning are quite similar to the symptoms of the plague.”

  “Oh.” It was almost a whisper. “Oh.” Then the surprise wore off. “But there really is a plague. Or has been. We’re all so grateful it’s ending with the cold weather. But-”

  “Let us go and interview Marmaduke.”

  “Merlin, will you please tell me what you have on your mind? Are you suggesting that the plague deaths were…? I don’t even know what to ask you. Please, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  His smile had not diminished. “The thought is only half formed. I could not articulate it in a coherent manner. Not yet. But I have had a suspicion all along that all the awful things that were happening were somehow related. The murders at Stonehenge. The deaths of John, Bruce and Accolon, and poor George…”

  “Then how-?”

  “Let us move on. Lord Marmaduke is waiting.”

  He moved briskly toward the traitor’s cell, with Nimue just behind. The jailor, seeing their approach, got his keys from his pocket and made ready to unlock the door.

  Just as they reached it, Merlin stopped. “I should warn you. Marmaduke… How shall I put it?… The air in his cell is apt not to be fresh.”

  “I wish you’d stop talking to me in riddles.”

  “You will see, soon enough. Or rather, you will smell.”

  The jailor’s key clanked in the lock and the cell door swung open. Instantly Marmaduke’s stench wafted out. Nimue reflexively covered her nose. “Good grief!”

  “Exactly. And his entire palace reeks in that way.”

  Marmaduke had been resting on the floor, curled into something like a fetal position, or as close to one as a man of his bulk could manage. The sound of the door opening wakened him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Wizard. What the devil do you want?”

  Merlin stood at the threshold and made no move to enter the cell. “Your trial will be starting soon.” He smiled and added, “Your trial for treason.”

  “I should have killed you both at once, when I had the chance. The mistake I made was waiting.”

  “The mistake you made was thinking you could attempt regicide and get away with it.”

  Nimue leaned casually against the doorpost. “Regicide and wizard-cide,” she added, grinning.

  Marmaduke struggled heavily to his feet and took a step unobtrusively toward the door. “You’re going to put me on trial and kill me. Our positions are reversed. That is war.”

  “No, that is justice.” Merlin arranged his robes.

  “Justice?” Marmaduke was growing angry and it showed. His eyes widened and his face flushed. “Robbing a man of his territory? Defiling his wife?”

  “It is hardly possible to ‘defile’ a woman who is quite willing.”

  Marmaduke glared.

  “And even if it was possible, it is hardly a crime in the same league as what you planned. But all of this is beside the point. I want to know about Morgan le Fay.”

  Puzzlement showed through the anger in Marmaduke’s face.

  Merlin pressed. “How was she involved? What were her instructions to you? Were they given through Lulua? Did she give similar orders to other barons?”

  Suddenly Marmaduke let out a roar. He lunged and in an instant his hands were around Merlin’s throat. “I’ll finish it now, Wizard.”

  Nimue let out a scream, jumped onto Marmaduke and began trying to pry his fingers loose. But he was much too strong for her. Merlin was gasping for breath. His face turned red.

  The guard, hearing her scream, came running. He instantly realized what was happening and joined Nimue’s efforts to pull Marmaduke off his victim. The color in Merlin’s face went from red to purple.

  More guards from other parts of the dungeon heard the commotion and came running. In a trice three of them were on Marmaduke. With great difficulty they pulled him off Merlin, forced him back into his cell and slammed and locked the door.

  Merlin stood, gasping for breath, one arm on the wall for balance. Slowly his natural coloration returned.

  Just then Simon of York entered the dungeon. “Merlin! What on earth happened?”

  Nimue explai
ned. Simon took a moment to digest it all. “Are you all right now? Is everything under control?”

  Still gasping for breath, Merlin said, “Asked like a true bureaucrat.”

  Nimue broke into a grin. “I think he will be all right. He’s well enough for his usual sarcasm.” Suddenly the unexpected oddness of Simon’s presence struck her. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I heard someone was strangling Merlin and came to watch the fun.”

  Merlin had recovered sufficiently to say, “Nonsense. What do you want here, Simon?”

  Simon couldn’t stop smiling. “You are wanted above. In the king’s tower.”

  “What is wrong?”

  He paused for dramatic effect, then said, “The king is dead.”

  The shock of hearing this brought Merlin to himself once and for all. “Arthur, dead? Then why have you been standing here, grinning like an ass?”

  Simon grinned even more widely. “Not Arthur. The old king.”

  “Pellenore?”

  “No, I’m afraid we’re not that fortunate. The king who has died is Uther Pendragon.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yes.” Simon smiled. “Oh.”

  Merlin turned to Nimue. “Get to Darrowfield. Leave as soon as you can. Examine the lady’s garden. If she is growing belladonna, try and bring me a sample. Leaves, berries and roots. There are different strains of the plant and they produce different effects.”

  Nimue repeated her instructions to be sure she understood them.

  “I will arrange with Brit for a military escort for you. I think a dozen soldiers should be enough.”

  “I can travel faster and less obtrusively alone, Merlin.”

  “Did I say that I want you to be unobtrusive?”

  “But-”

  “Take soldiers. Make a show of yourself.”

  “But-Merlin, what are you thinking?”

  “I am more and more certain that the solution to this-to all of this-lies there.”

  “In Lady Darrowfield’s herb garden?”

  “Possibly. Possibly not. At any rate, I do not wish to see a repeat of the mistake Arthur made on the journey to Grosfalcon. There are traitors loose in England-or at least one. I will have you take no needless chances with your safety.” A sudden draft swept through the dungeon. Merlin shuddered. “And make certain to take plenty of blankets and heavy cloaks. I wish I had thought to send you along with Peter.” With emphasis he added, “Bring back that plant.”