"Well, good for you. But I want you to come up to Arthur's quarters with me. There is something afoot."
"Something?"
"That is as much as I know. Come on."
The three of them climbed the stairs, with Merlin lean
ing on his cane and "Colin" for support. Greffys scrambled ahead. Merlin stumbled once and winced with the pain. But they made good time and reached the top level of the tower fairly quickly.
Another guard was posted there. He saluted them and waved them past, looking suspiciously at Colin. "Did the king summon you?"
Merlin got between them. "Colin is my assistant. I asked him to come along."
"Oh. Yes, sir."
The king's rooms were bright with torchlight, brighter than anyplace else in the castle. Through the windows shone the last orange-purple glow of sunset.
Almost at once they encountered Arthur; he was pacing the corridor that connected his suite of rooms. His clothes were disarrayed and his thick blond hair was unkempt. He looked angry, or perhaps lost in unpleasant thought. Bri tomart stood at the far end of the hall, watching him and looking concerned. When she saw Merlin she waved and called to him. "Merlin! Come here."
Merlin looked at the king, who seemed not to have no ticed them. "Arthur?"
The king stopped his pacing but stared blankly into space.
"Arthur!" Merlin took his arm and shook it.
He snapped out of his reverie. "Oh. Oh, Merlin. I'm glad you've come."
"What is wrong? You look awful."
"Thank you so much. We appear to have a crisis."
"We're the government. We always have a crisis."
"Not like this. Come along. I'll let Brit explain it all to you."
"But—"
"Come along, Merlin."
They moved to the study at the end of the hallway, where Britomart was waiting. Merlin kept plying Arthur with questions, to no avail. They shook hands all around and Brit said, "I knew you could bring Arthur out of it. You have such an unsettling effect on people."
"I choose to take that as a compliment."
She grinned. "It is. In a way."
Arthur harrumphed. "Go ahead and talk about me as if I weren't here."
"Sorry, Your Majesty." Brit looked properly abashed.
"Let's sit and talk about this situation and have some wine."
"What situation?" Merlin asked loudly.
Instead of answering, Arthur gestured at the table.
They arranged themselves around it and Greffys poured cups for each of them. The wine was sweet and full-bodied. Merlin tasted it and liked it. "Our vintners are getting better."
"It's Italian."
"Oh. Sorry. Anyway, what is this all about? Brit?"
She took a long drink, sighed deeply and produced a large sheet of parchment. "This. This is an intelligence re port from Guenevere's castle at Corfe. It was sent by Cap tain John Dalley, who you'll remember is the commander of our garrison at Corfe."
"Intelligence report? Do you mean to say you've set up spies there?"
"There and other places. Soon we'll have them all over the country." Brit was pleased with herself. "After the last treason, I convinced Arthur it is necessary."
Merlin didn't like the sound of this, and he didn't try to hide it. "Spies. Informers. They corrupt everyone and everything they touch. That is the sort of thing I'd expect at the Byzantine court, not Camelot. Nero used spies, and Caligula, the two worst tyrants of ancient Rome."
Nimue smiled. "So did Augustus and Hadrian, the two best."
"Be quiet, Colin." Merlin looked to Arthur for a re sponse but the king's face was stone.
"The country is in a fragile state of balance, Merlin." Brit looked at the parchment scroll, not at him. "If we're to remain in power, we must maintain that balance."
"I'm not at all certain the only way to do that is with in formers and spies making people fearful and turning them against one another. And I'm certain that is not the best way."
Arthur spoke. "We have enemies. You know that as well as anyone here. You helped me become king, Merlin. Surely you don't object to my remaining king."
Merlin looked to Brit. "And you've even managed to get people inside Corfe Castle?"
"The Spider's House. That is what the residents of Corfe call it." She nodded, grinning. "Captain Dalley managed it. He suggested to Guenevere that he should post a military attaché in her castle, for convenience of communication or some such. Naturally she suspected the attaché would be a spy, so she rejected the proposal. With her distracted by that, Dalley was able to get a real spy into the castle with no trouble."
"Who?"
"That is a secret."
"I'm the king's first counselor. Tell me."
Britomart fell silent and looked at Arthur. Softly, the king said, "In good time, Merlin. When you need to know."
Merlin sighed exaggeratedly. "Just so . . . And so now Guenevere is planning another insurrection, with her par ents' help, no doubt. Is that it?"
"Guenevere," Arthur said slowly and sadly, "my lady wife, who has never been much of a wife to me . . ." He paused and looked around the room. It was clear that the news in the intelligence report, whatever it was, had upset him deeply.
"Yes, Arthur?"
"She has gotten married."
For a moment everyone fell silent. No one even blinked for what seemed a terribly long time. Then Merlin said softly, "What did you say, Arthur?"
"Married." The king looked away. "My wife has shat tered her wedding vows and married that French knight she bellies with."
Brit unrolled the parchment on the table. "It's all here. Three weeks ago, she announced that she was dissolving her marriage to Arthur, and she and Lancelot went though a formal wedding ceremony. They exchanged vows, ex changed rings, exchanged gifts, even shared a huge cake with the people of the court. Their gifts to one another were ceremonial golden daggers with elaborately carved ivory handles, imported from France. Apparently they were pro vided by Queen Leonilla."
"That was all? Those are paltry gifts for a royal wed ding."
She looked up. "There is no record of what else they might have given each other. But if I know Lancelot, his to her was something cheap."
"Not in that family," Arthur said ruefully. "I imagine they value murder weapons above anything else."
"This is treason indeed," Merlin said, turning it over in his mind. "In a messy sort of way. But surely only the king can grant a divorce in a case like this."
"Obviously."
Merlin smiled a rueful smile. "Most women are miser able enough with one husband. If there is a woman alive who deserves two, it is Guenevere." He made a sour face. "Unless it is that horrible mother of hers."
"Leonilla? My sweet bitch of a mother-in-law?" Arthur took a deep drink. "She rules her husband Leodegrance the way he rules his province—sternly and resolutely. What ever else she is, Guenevere is her mother's daughter. But I'm glad you find the situation so amusing."
"I don't. But it is so unexpected . . . it is difficult to know how to react. Why would she have done such a thing?"
"Why, to hurt me, of course. She never stops finding new ways. Other women do needlework; Guenevere spouts venom."
Merlin took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. "The queen is capable of vindictiveness, to be sure. But she is first and foremost a political creature. She would not have done this unless she stood to gain by it. The question is, what exactly could such an act gain her?"
"Wounding me. Making me more miserable than she al ready has."
"It is not that simple, Arthur, and I think you know it."
Brit spoke up. "This is the grossest kind of lèse-majesté. Arrest her. Send me to Corfe with a column of soldiers and we'll take them both. And put them on trial."
"And execute them?" Merlin took the report and perused it.
"If need be, yes."
"Think for a moment, both of you." Merlin spoke with force. "Guenevere did this for a re
ason. A concrete political reason. We all know her. She is as shrewd and calculating as any queen in Europe. What she does, she does for advan tage." He sipped his wine pensively. "Guenevere is not the kind of woman to go off the deep end and marry a knight out of untrammeled passion. Especially not a knight like Lancelot, with no political connections other than her her self. There is more going on here than a defiant wedding. We need to understand what."
"Whatever she is up to," Nimue said, "surely arresting her would put a stop to it."
"That assumes she is the only one involved. These plots are never simple. Her parents must know about it—they've been involved in all of her treasons—and possibly some of their allies in France or elsewhere on the Continent, and heaven knows who else. The French have had their eyes on England for as long as anyone can remember."
"But Guenevere is the key to whatever they may be plot ting, Merlin." Nimue pressed her case. "She must be. If we seize her—"
"That is too simple by half, Colin."
"I know this is going to sound odd." Arthur drained his cup and held it out for Greffys to refill. "But I don't much want to dungeon up my wife. Or burn her at the stake." He kept his eyes focused on the cup. "Or torture her. That is not the kind of England I've wanted to build."
"Treacherous queens are as old as civilization itself, Arthur." Brit was growing vehement. "The history books are full of them. Augustus's wife Livia. Ahab and Jezebel. Jason and Medea. And kings who do not move to counter them always pay the price."
"Even so, Brit. Say I seal her in a prison cell for the rest of her life. Say I torture her till she confesses responsibility for every tragedy since the fall of Troy. What would that do to all Merlin's fine diplomatic efforts to persuade Europe to take England seriously as a modern power? How barbaric would it make me look?"
"Like a king." Brit spoke emphatically. "Justinian tor tures his enemies, and look at him. He is the strongest em peror since Augustus."
"No. No, I think Merlin is right. There is something more going on than we know about."
"Arthur, strike." Britomart's tone was beginning to grow heated.
Calmly, Merlin got between them. "Think for a moment, Brit. Guenevere is already in jail, effectively at least. Corfe is a place of self-imposed exile from Arthur's court. She needs money. And she needs people as well—her courtiers keep abandoning her. Your own squire Petronus defected from her court, remember? None of that has stopped her plotting."
"She can't plot much in a jail cell."
He sighed loudly. "Do you think you're the only one with secret agents? We have no idea who might be working for her." He snorted derisively and looked away. "Govern ment. Politics. I swear, as long as I live I'll never under stand all the games people play in the name of power."
Arthur smiled a rueful smile. "Are you saying you no longer want to be my minister?"
"Of course not, but—"
"Merlin is right, Brit." Oddly the king was grinning like a schoolboy. "Guenevere can't do much on her own. Her army, such as it is, is too small, and technically the soldiers are mine anyway. She has fewer troops of her own than the king of Latvia. She needs allies. We must find out who they are."
"But, Arthur—"
"No, Merlin has the right idea. We must watch her and wait till we know more. Are your spies at Corfe reliable?"
"Yes, of course. I'm quite sure of them."
"And can you manage to get more inside the castle there?"
"I think so. As Merlin said, she needs people. She can't be too choosy. I'll have Captain Dalley do it as quickly as he can."
"Do it, then. And suggest to Captain Dalley that he post a cordon of, er, 'observers' around the castle. Not too close, not too obvious. But I want her watched."
Merlin interrupted. "I can send Dalley some of my lenses. They will make it possible to watch the castle from a considerable distance, without anyone ever suspecting they are under surveillance. The trick, you see, is to use convex lenses. If you mount them in a framework—"
"Excellent, Merlin." The king rubbed his hands together. "I want to know who comes and who goes, who might be up to no good. There is something happening, and my dear, loving, bigamous wife is at the center of it. And whatever it is, it will certainly end in death. We need to learn what is going on—and who else is involved. Let us hope it is not more of our own people. Mark's treason hurt me. Deeply. I don't want that to happen again."
On that uneasy note the meeting ended. No one talked much as they left.
Merlin asked Nimue to wait for him a moment. Then he collared Brit at the foot of the tower stairs. "You are assem bling a spy network? Why wasn't I told?"
"Arthur wants security."
"I am his prime counselor."
"Even so."
"What else do I not know about?"
"How can I know what you don't know, Merlin?" She grinned and walked off breezily.
"Brit!"
But she kept going. Merlin looked to Nimue and sighed. "I should have stayed in Egypt. I was happy when I lived there."
"Do you seriously expect me to believe that everyone in Egypt is devoted to learning? That there are no politicians there?"
Unexpectedly, Arthur ran lightly down the steps and joined them. "I always wonder how a man as learned as you can be so naïve, Merlin."
"You were eavesdropping." It was an accusation.
"How could I not? Some voices carry. Besides, Brit wants me to master the art of espionage. I believe in start ing small." He grinned his boyish grin.
But Merlin was in no mood for this. "I am not naïve." His voice was firm. "Whatever I am, I am not that."
"Power is a drug, Merlin. Like sex, it is satisfying for it self. People—some people—lust for it the way boys chase after butterflies. For no other reason than that to have it is satisfying. You've never understood that. You're too besot ted with books."
"Is this a confession, Arthur? Are you admitting that you are addicted to power?"
"No." The king became distant. "I want power for the good it can do. But Guenevere . . . she wants it for itself, the way her dumb consort Lancelot pursues sex with scullery maids. Understand that, Merlin. It is government."
"You are too cynical, Arthur."
"Wearing the crown makes a man a cynic. Let's go to the dining hall. I haven't eaten, and I hear they have some good ham."
"I will follow in a moment, if you do not mind. I want to have a word with Colin."
Arthur headed off to dinner. Merlin turned to Nimue. "Thank you for waiting."
She smiled. "I've already eaten, remember?"
"Probably too much, as usual. You should exercise more."
"Are you trying to hold me to the standard for women, Merlin? Or, a man named Colin, remember?"
"While you can get away with it. People are gossiping. I've overheard two different conversations among servants who think you odd, who think you are hiding something."
"Servants gossip. What of it?"
"If they are talking about you, other people may be as well."
She exhaled deeply. "And if they are?"
"Think. You adopted this male disguise for a reason. If Morgan should even suspect you are living here as Colin, you will suffer the consequences. At the very least, she would demand you be returned to her court. She might force you to go through with that marriage to her son. And those are the benign possibilities. If she feels vengeful . . . You know as well as I do how vindictive she can be. Re member the chest of poisons she keeps."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just be careful how you present yourself, in public. You
are the best assistant I could want. And for that matter you are a good friend. I hardly want to lose you."
So everyone at Camelot watched and waited. And two weeks later more intelligence arrived from Captain Dalley at Corfe. Merlin, Brit and the king sat in the king's study and went over this new report.
Things had been unsettled at the queen's castle. Guenevere and La
ncelot, though married, maintained sepa rate apartments. They did not often dine together. Lancelot insisted on this, apparently so he could continue his infidelities with every woman who gave him the opportu nity. Guenevere was oblivious to this, or she simply did not care. Still, publicly they were happily married royal new lyweds, and the court functionaries worked diligently to quash any gossip that suggested otherwise.
The Lancelot Murders Page 2