“No!” He pounded a fist into the wall. “This is not what I meant. I wanted a land where things like this don’t happen. Those poor boys.”
“I know how fond of them you were. They were good young men. But, Arthur, you can’t let grief run away with you like this. You’re the king. You have duties. One of them is to remain in charge, of yourself and of the government, of public affairs. You’ve always understood that. I taught it to you at a young enough age.”
Arthur turned to face him. “They were mine, Merlin. They were my sons.”
Merlin fell silent. After a long interval he said, “Oh. I see.”
“Do you? Do you know what they meant to me? Guenevere has never given me children. I daresay she never will. And I don’t want her to anymore, now that I know what she is. But Borolet and Ganelin…” He looked away again. “I met their mother on a progress through the fen country. Beautiful young woman. When she came to me later and told me we’d made twin sons, I actually remembered her. Of all the women I had in those days, she was the one I remembered. I told her to bring them to me when they were ten, that I’d raise them and teach them and make them worthy of their heritage.”
Softly, Merlin asked, “Did they know?”
“No. Never. I think they must have suspected now and then, but they never asked and I never told them. But I think they knew they were being raised for some special destiny. And now…” There were tears in his eyes.
“Arthur, I’m sorry.”
“I know. I know. We should have done better by them, Merlin. I should have. When I lost Borolet, I told myself, at least I still have his brother. I will raise him up, make him a good, worthy man-a good, worthy heir. Now… what do I have of them? What?” He sat down again. “Bring me a cup of wine, will you, please? And the bottle.”
“This is no time for drinking.”
“I have never known a better one.”
Merlin filled a cup for him, and Arthur drank it quickly. Then he took hold of Merlin’s arm and squeezed tightly. “I want you to find him. The killer. Merlin, these deaths have diminished all of us, all England, even though no one knows that but you and I.”
“Arthur, you’re hurting me.”
He let go. “I’m sorry. But you must promise me, Merlin, that you will do everything in your power to find whoever slaughtered my sons.”
“You know I will.”
Arthur got up, crossed to the table that held the wine bottle and poured himself another cup. “Burial. We must see that they’re buried with all proper dignity.”
“They were squires. People might find it odd.”
“Do you think I give a damn?”
Merlin said nothing.
“And their mother. I don’t even know if she’s still alive. I want to find out.”
“She is. Ganelin talked about her.” He hesitated. “Shall I have Mark make the preparations for the burials?”
“Yes, he’ll do a good job. I think he even suspected the truth about the boys. He asked me once or twice, but I always avoided answering. Now he’ll understand. And I’ll have to ask Morgan to officiate at the funeral.”
“You want her in this?”
“They were her nephews, even if she didn’t know it.”
“Of course. Will you tell her? Do you think she might have guessed?”
“I don’t know. I need to think. And drink more. Will you set everything in motion?”
“Certainly, Arthur. I’ll get to work right now.”
“Good.” He paused, then looked Merlin directly in the eye. “And thank you. Even though this place is defective, even though it is tainted with human evil in a way I never imagined, I could never have begun to build it without you. And I want you with me now.”
“I’m not certain what you mean, Arthur.”
“Tomorrow.”
The next morning Camelot’s courtyard was filled with activity. Morgan’s party, and Guenevere’s, and several less illustrious, were packing their animals, checking their weapons, making certain they had provisions enough for the trips to their various homes. Merlin had pressed Arthur to detain them, but the king was reluctant. “There are no grounds. And I want them gone. I want them out of my house.”
“It may make finding the killer more difficult.”
“Merlin, I want them gone.”
It was just warm enough for a thaw. The landscape was dotted with puddles of water and thick mud, and a steady drip fell from the top of the castle. Now and then chunks of ice peeled off the roof and battlements fell to the ground below, alarming the horses, even occasionally striking someone. Outriders had been sent to make certain the roads were passable and came back to report that they were, but barely so.
Arthur walked among them, enjoying the chaos, and happy of the departures, with Merlin at his side. Camelot would be their home again, not the mass hostel it had been.
Nimue followed them, making note of everything she saw, bidding farewell to acquaintances. Arthur had asked her to keep an eye out for petty theft. “It’s to be expected. They will take anything they think we won’t miss.”
Unlike the king and her teacher, she was slightly intimidated by all the people and the hustle. “Do you think it’s advisable to let them all go, Your Majesty?” She lowered her voice. “We may never have all the suspects together again. Solving the mystery will be that much more of a challenge.”
“I don’t see that we have any choice, Colin. Camelot can’t support this many people. You’ve seen how scarce food became, and how quickly. Besides, I don’t really have the authority or the pretext to hold them all here. I want our society to be based on laws, not force.
“They’ll all be back for Midwinter Court. It’s the time for them to renew their vows of fealty to me. Anyone who doesn’t come will be counted a traitor.” He shrugged. “More or less.”
“I see. But still-”
“For goodness sake, Colin.” Merlin was impatient with her for questioning the king. “We’re getting rid of them. That’s a blessing in more ways than one. Do you want a mad killer on the loose here permanently?”
“But-”
“We’ll get to the bottom of the killings. And we’ll do it by Midwinter Court. Just be patient.”
She resigned herself to it, glumly.
Arthur made a show of saying good-bye to the most important people, particularly Morgan and Guenevere. Guenevere actually seemed in a pleasant mood for once, and Arthur commented on it.
“And why shouldn’t I be? I’m leaving my husband’s house. What wife wouldn’t be overjoyed?”
“You are the picture of domestic bliss, aren’t you?” He kissed her perfunctorily on the cheek, not the lips, and moved on.
To Morgan, he made a special request. “We’ll be burying Ganelin and Borolet within a few days.”
“Highly advisable. They won’t keep long, even in winter. ”
He ignored this. “Morgan, I’d like you to preside at the funeral.”
“For a pair of squires? Your sense of humor can be so alarming, Arthur.”
He leaned close and whispered something to her; Merlin thought he knew what. Then he pulled away and added, “Please, Morgan.”
Reluctantly she agreed, but she added that she was doing Arthur an enormous favor and he owed her for it.
Then, after all the official and unofficial business was out of the way, Arthur led Merlin and Nimue to a small gate at the rear of Camelot. Britomart was waiting there with horses and a cohort of six guards. Arthur asked a waiting servant, “Do you have it?”
“Yes, sir.” He handed Arthur what looked like a sable cloak, carefully folded. Arthur took it, placed it in his saddlebag and quickly climbed onto his steed. “Come on, all of you. Let’s get moving.”
Nimue looked to Merlin and Brit. “Where are we going? ”
It was Merlin who answered her. “You’re not going anywhere. You have some Homer to translate, remember?”
“But-”
“You’re not dressed warmly enough to travel on a morning like this. Go and do your Greek. I’ll tell you about it later.”