Someone in the audience shouted, "When are you running for president?"
Arthur grinned as people applauded. "Well, let's give me a few years to get my feet wet.
After all, it's a lot easier being king than being mayor or president. I have a lot to learn first."
He waited for the laughter to subside. "When you're a king," he continued, "and you tell people to do something, and by God they do it. When you're a mayor, they ask you why. And when you're a president they bring it over to some house or somesuch where a group of men who don't give a damn what you say get together and decide that they're not going to do it at all."
"Arthur for king!" someone shouted.
Arthur raised a clenched fist in appreciation. "Now that's the kind of forward-looking backward thinking that I intend to make the hallmark of my career!"
The applause was thunderous.
Meanwhile in Verona, New Jersey, the house of Morgan Le Fey burned to ashes.
It was the early hours of the morning when Arthur finally arrived home and stepped into his modest apartment. He looked around and sighed. Merlin had advised that he keep the place, even after he moved into Gracie Mansion. He sighed. No matter where he lived, it would seem pale in comparison to Belvedere Castle. And yet, the castle itself would seem empty now that Gwen wasn't there.
"Congratulations, Mayor Wart."
Arthur spun. There, at his bedroom door, was Merlin. His hair and eyebrows were singed.
He had removed his jacket and tie, but his shirt and slacks were blackened from smoke.
And to Arthur he had never looked so good.
"Merlin?" He walked slowly toward him, not daring to believe it. "Merlin is it really you?"
"Yes, Wart," he said tiredly. "It's me."
Arthur touched his shoulder gently, tentatively, and then a grin split his face. "You got away, didn't you? You little fox. I should have known." Then his voice hardened. "Where's Morgan, Merlin? Where is she hiding? Tell me, because by Ex-calibur there'll be a reckoning-"
Merlin raised a hand. "No need, Arthur. There's already been a reckoning. Morgan is dead."
Arthur paused in disbelief. "Dead?"
"Yes. Her body, at any rate. It's hard to destroy her utterly. At the moment all that remains of her is a little discorporated cloud of hate. And I'll get that eventually too. I'd like to put it in a bottle on my mantel. Make a nice conversation piece."
Merlin sauntered across the room and threw himself full length on Arthur's sofa. Arthur followed him, shaking his head wonderingly. "You did it. You really did it. Morgan is gone."
"Well, I had some help...."
"Help? How do you mean?"
Merlin told him. He told him everything-everything Gwen had said, everything that he'd done.
And Arthur stood there, trying to take it all in.
"You're saying . . . you're saying that she really saved your life."
"No," said Merlin, positioning the throw pillow under his head. "I'm not saying that. I'll be double damned if I'd ever admit that I needed anyone's help to fight my battles. However, if you say it, I won't contradict it." He stared up at the ceiling. "I was wrong about her, Arthur."
"No, Merlin." Arthur sat across from him. "You were right. You said she wasn't trustworthy, and you were right."
Merlin shook his head. "Her actions were not dishonorable, Arthur. Merely unfortunate.
Mistakes, if you prefer. But I've known you to pull one or two boners in your time. Everything that your precious Gwen DeVere did, she did out of a sense of loyalty to someone to whom she had once sworn loyalty. She was certain no lasting harm would come to you. She was betrayed by Morgan in that respect. As I recall, Morgan pulled the wool over your eyes more than one time. As a matter of fact, Modred would never have existed if-"
"I . . . gather your point, Merlin," said Arthur sheepishly. "So that horrid Lance of hers is gone?"
"Not at all. He's over there."
Arthur turned. A small rat was in a corner of the room, sitting under the television set. He was watching the two of them intently, his little nose quivering.
"What are you going to do with him?" asked Arthur. "Feed him to a cobra?" His eyes narrowed. "You're not going to restore him, are you?"
"Oh, Arthur, even if I could, I don't know if I would. But I have no idea what spell Morgan used to change him into a rat. It could take years to find." He sighed. "No, I'm going to keep him in a little cage. He'll be comfortable enough. He'll even have company-Gladys."
"What, the former receptionist?" Arthur looked surprised. "I thought you'd fed her to our new receptionist."
"What, and waste a perfectly good shrew? Phawgh. You never know when she's going to come in handy. No, she's safe and sound at home. And I'm certain she's going to adore her new little friend."
They were silent for a time, and then Arthur said, "Merlin? How can I trust her loyalty to me now?"
Merlin snorted. "Good God, Arthur, that woman went through all manner of hell, on the remote chance that she'd win your favor back. Even though her motives were, in a way, honorable, she was still remorseful over what she'd done. She risked life and limb to win you back by undoing the results of her handiwork."
Arthur shook his head. "I can't believe some of the things she was capable of."
"Neither can I," admitted Merlin. "Frankly, I suspect she couldn't either. I never thought, Wart, that I would be trying to talk you into taking that woman back. But I owe you my honest opinion, and I will tell you this, Arthur-I would stake my immortal soul on the loyalty of Gwen DeVere."
Arthur sat there, square jawed, and then said, "Can I see her?"
"Of course. She's in your bedroom."
Arthur got up and went into the bedroom. There, stretched out on the bed, was Gwen. There was an ugly bruise on her forehead, and her clothes had the same smoke discoloration as Merlin's. But she was there, and she was sound and whole. Arthur went to her side and took her hand. Her chest rose and fell steadily in sleep. "Gwen?" he said gently, shaking her shoulder.
From the doorway Merlin said, "You're wasting your time, Arthur. As near as I can tell, she was taking some sort of pills to keep herself going. You can only do that to yourself for so long before your body just says, 'Enough.' She's going to sleep for quite some time, I would say. There's not a single thing that you could say or do that would bring her around."
Arthur glanced at Merlin and then back at Gwen. Then he sat next to her on the bed, squeezed her hand and said, in a voice full of love and affection, "Gwen, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Gwen's eyes fluttered open. "Yes."
Merlin sighed and shook his head. "Women!"
Chaptre the Nineteenth
The horses thundered toward each other, hooves kicking up clods of dirt. On their backs the two armored knights, lances firmly in place, were intent on each other's approach. The sun glinted down on their shields, and the crowd roared as they met. The lance of the knight with the blue plume in his helm shattered against the shield of the other jouster, and a cheer went up. The other knight, in the red plume, was the good guy.
The horses reached the opposite ends of the field, and the blue-plumed knight was handed a new lance. He spun his horse, shook a fist at his opponent, and the crowd booed the unsportsmanlike gesture.
It was a beautiful day for a joust on the fields of the Cloisters. Standing within a mile of the jousting field was a castle that housed tapestries and pieces of lovely artwork. Stretched out around the Cloisters was parkland bordered by the Henry Hudson Parkway, and 183rd Street up to 210th Street. It was a little bit of another century staking a claim against the encroachment of this century.