“I’m dreading this. I wish I had a plausible reason to stay in bed all day.”
“At the very least,” she said, pouring the soup from a pot to a large bowl, “we’ll have a chance to observe Morgan and Mordred. We were so focused on Guenevere before, we more or less ignored them.”
“Stop talking sense. This is going to be a terrible day.”
By the time Merlin had eaten, washed and dressed, Britomart had come to his rooms as well. He found her warming herself by the fire in the study. “You’re coming to the funeral?”
“Of course. Arthur should be surrounded by his friends, don’t you think?”
“Yes. But who are they, Brit? I wish I knew.”
“You’re in a dark mood.”
He shrugged. “Funerals do that to me. Let’s go.”
They assembled at the rear of Camelot. Arthur was there, and Greffys, and Anna, Morgan, Mordred. Sagramore, Gawain, Bors, Accolon and the rest of the knights attended. Gossip had spread about the dead squires’ connection to the king; the royal crest on the coffins seemed to cinch it in most people’s minds. Pellenore was noticeably missing, but no one had expected him anyway. Twelve pages served as pallbearers, carrying the two coffins on catafalques. The court musicians were there, playing mournful tunes. The music echoed loudly and clearly through the morning air and mist.
The party left the castle by the same rear gate Arthur had used when he set out to find Anna. They walked slowly, solemnly, accompanied by more dirges by the musicians, who brought up the rear. Fog swirled among the trees. At times the light was so dim Arthur called for torches. Pages ran back to Camelot while the procession waited. The torches, when they arrived, showed brilliant yellow-orange among the mist and trees.
At the burial ground the two royal gravediggers were still at work, shoring up the sides of the hole and bailing out water. Arthur went to them. “I thought the ground was dry enough.”
“So did we, sir. But it’s saturated much more than we thought.”
“Do what you have to do quickly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Everyone formed a circle around the coffins. Morgan raised her arms in supplication and voiced a prayer to the goddess Arianrhod, begging that she guide and protect the souls of these two valiant young men. Merlin found himself looking around at the assembled mourners. Someone was missing.
Then he saw him, standing off among the trees, watching it all the way a naturalist might watch wild animals. It was Mordred. He was only half-visible through the mist. But at one point, when the air cleared momentarily, it seemed that he was smiling.
Merlin nudged Brit, gestured toward Mordred and whispered, “He seems to be enjoying this much too much.”
“We always knew what a morbid little creature he is.”
“I wonder if it’s only that.”
Morgan finished her prayers. The coffins were laid in the grave side by side. One by one the mourners lined up to sprinkle handfuls of earth on them. But the soil was too damp; it formed muddy clumps and thumped unpleasantly on the caskets.
Through it all, Anna had managed to maintain her composure. Now she began crying uncontrollably. Arthur put an arm around her to try and comfort her, but it did no good. Merlin looked to see what Mordred was doing, and the boy was smiling even more widely than before.
Two days later the weather broke. For the first time in days the sun was shining and the air was warm, or at least warmer than it had been. Knights wrestled and exercised. Everyone from the castle tried to spend time outdoors, walking, running or just enjoying the bright day.
Merlin climbed to the roof and walked the perimeter, chatting with the sentries he knew. The countryside was still dotted with patches of snow and ice. Winter would be settling in in a serious way soon. At the far end of the roof, Arthur and Greffys wrestled playfully. Arthur let the boy get an arm lock on him, then pulled free. The funereal mood had evaporated.
The forest around Camelot was black, nothing but bare branches, and the landscape was still dotted with patches of white. The migratory birds had long since gone, and there seemed to be fewer of the ones who stayed year-round. A few sparrows and cardinals scratched at the roof stones, looking for food. Two of Merlin’s ravens followed him about; the third one had disappeared.
Find the assassin by Midwinter Court: the charge had been repeated more times than Merlin cared to remember. But there was so little to go on-practically nothing but suspicions and obvious motives for too many suspects. Not that Arthur’s wish was a command; he was not that kind of monarch. But there were good reasons for finding the killer as soon as possible. The idea of order must be maintained.
A cloud covered the sun briefly; then it emerged again. Merlin shaded his eyes.
Then from behind him he heard a voice.
“Where are my sons?”
With a start he turned to find Anna just in back of him.
He said hello. “How are you today?”
There were tears streaking her cheeks. “Do you know where my sons are?”
Uncertain what to say, he pretended to study something in the distance. “The air is still a bit chilly, Anna. Shouldn’t you be wearing a cloak?”
“I’ve been cold all my life.” She peered at him. “Where is Arthur?”
He pointed.
“I have to find Borolet and Ganelin. I have something for them. He’ll know where they are.”
It was so awkward. What would be best, to let her delusion continue, or to try and bring her back to reality? To let her disturb the king with this, or to find some way to keep her away from him? He found his resolve and said, “They are not here, Anna. You saw where we took them, remember? ”
She looked confused; her eyes darted about as if trying to focus on something but she was unsure what. “They are here. I sent them to be with the king.”
“No.” He said it gently. “They are gone. Anna, you must remember.”
“The night he made love to me I knew I’d bear him sons. I never told them who their father was, but they guessed.”
“Anna, please.”
“Arthur will take care of them. He is their father, you know. He won’t let any harm come to them.”
It was so futile. And he felt so sorry for her. He wished Brit or Nimue were there; women were so much better at handling these things.
“They will be kings one day themselves, you know. He promised to make them his heirs. But they haven’t been home for so long…” She was fighting back tears; it was plain to see.
“Anna, they were good boys. Bright, helpful, energetic. They were the best; Arthur said so often enough. But they are gone.” One of the ravens flapped onto his shoulder; he brushed it aside and it quickly flew away. He watched it go. “I sometimes envy my birds, do you know that? Their lives are so simple yet so full.”
Arthur broke off wrestling with his squire and moved to join them, with Greffys following behind. From ten yards away he called, “Merlin! Anna! How good to see you both out here on this gorgeous day.”
"Hello, Arthur.” Merlin was grateful for the interruption. “You don’t seem to have worked up much of a sweat.”
“It was only horseplay, not a workout.” He turned to Anna. “Good afternoon, Anna. Are you feeling any better today?”
“No.” The word seemed to weigh a ton. “I’m looking for Ganelin and Borolet. Do you know where they are?” Instead of Arthur, she peered directly at Greffys.
“No, ma’am.” Mildly alarmed, the boy took a few steps backward and pressed himself against the battlement.
“Where are my sons?!” She shrieked it and rushed toward Arthur.
He caught her wrists and steadied her. “Please, Anna. Try and remember what happened, and why I brought you here.”
She pulled free and turned to Merlin. “Where are my boys?” she wailed.
Then suddenly she lunged toward Greffys. “What have you done with them? Where are they hidden?”
He barely managed to step aside, and the madwoman plunged over the edge of the castle roof to the ground below. Her impact made a terrible sound. As she had rushed past him, Greffys was knocked off balance and nearly fell himself, but Arthur caught him by the arm and steadied him. The boy clung to Arthur frantically; it was clear Anna had been trying to push him.