“But before you retire, there’s someone at the gate who wants to see you.”
“Who, for heaven’s sake?”
“Shall I show him in?”
“I suppose so, but-”
“I’ll be right back.”
The three of them looked at each other. Brit said, “If this is another ‘invitation’ to the castle, I don’t want to go.”
“No, Brit, we’re safer here.”
“And better fed.” Nimue laughed.
A moment later Dalley was back. Just behind him was Petronus; he looked anxious. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind my coming here.”
“England is a free country, Petronus.” Merlin tried not to sound too stern. “What can we do for you?”
“I… I want to come with you. I told Colin today.”
“Yes, he told me. I’m afraid we weren’t sure how seriously to take it.”
“You left suddenly. They’re angry about it.” He was only wearing light clothing; evidently he had left in some haste. He moved closer to the fire.
“I’m not at all certain we can simply… take you, Pete. Things are tense enough. We don’t want to cause an incident, even a minor one.”
He looked from one of them to the next. “Please. Please. I hate it here. I want to serve King Arthur at Camelot.”
Merlin sighed deeply then gestured to his two colleagues to join him off in a corner. “What do we do?”
Brit argued for taking him with them. “Guenevere can hardly grow much angrier at Arthur. Besides, he’s only a boy. How much harm can his defection do?”
They huddled for another few moments. Petronus stood very near the fire, trying, without much success, to hear what they were saying; it was a cold night and he wasn’t dressed for it. Finally, they rejoined him, and Merlin told him that, yes, he could accompany them to Camelot. “But this is very unusual. You are pledged to Guenevere’s service. You must give us your word you’ll obey orders and not make any trouble.”
“You have my word, sir.”
Dalley spoke up. “I’m afraid the compound is full. We don’t have another room to spare.”
Petronus offered to sleep next to the fire in the Common Room. “It’s only for one night, after all.”
After another brief huddle Dalley decided that would be all right. Relief showed in the boy’s face.
Soon it was time for everyone to retire for the night. Dalley showed them to their rooms, which were down a hallwayoff the Common Room; Petronus stayed behind. A moment later Brit came back, carrying her red cloak. “Here. You’ll need this.”
“Thank you. I’m freezing.”
“Couldn’t you have gotten a cloak before you left?”
“I left on impulse. I was afraid I’d only have that one chance.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Are you an experienced squire, then?”
“As experienced at Lancelot has let me be.”
“I don’t have a squire. We’ll talk tomorrow, all right? Sleep well.”
“Good night, Britomart.”
He waited till he heard their doors close then lay down beside the hearth and wrapped himself in the cloak.
“Murder! Murder!”
It was the middle of the night. Someone sounded the alarm. Groggily, the three travelers climbed into their clothes and went to the Common Room. Petronus lay beside the fireplace soaked in blood.
Merlin rushed to him. “He’s not dead. I think the wounds aren’t deep.”
But the boy was bleeding heavily. Merlin tore strips of cloth off his own robe and made bandages to staunch the blood.
Dalley rushed in and saw what was happening. “By all the gods! Is he all right?”
“I think so.” Merlin looked up at him. “Do we know what happened? Who did this?”
“Both of the sentries at the gate have been killed. Run through.”
“No!” Brit got down beside Merlin and stroked the boy’s hair. Softly, she asked him, “Did you see who did this?”
“No. I was asleep. I felt a stabbing pain in my side and then… I don’t know.”
“I heard a scream,” Dalley explained. “I came running. A man in a dark cloak was over him, sword raised, about to hack him. When he saw me he turned and ran.”
“You didn’t see his face?” Merlin worked to maintain his composure.
“No. It was too dark. Shadows from the fire-”
“It’s all right. I think the boy will be fine.”
“That’s more than can be said for my sentries. I can see, perhaps, one of them being taken by surprise. But both? It makes no sense.”
Everyone fell silent except Petronus, who groaned softly.
Then with a start Brit exclaimed, “He was wearing my cloak! This was meant for me!”
SIX. THE LAND OF WOULD-BE WITCHES
Petronus’s wounds turned out not to be too serious; they were more bloody than dangerous. But he was badly shaken, too much so to ride a horse. Captain Dalley arranged for a carriage to transport the four of them back to Camelot, and an armed escort to ensure their safety.
Merlin was grateful. “At my age, riding a horse is not fun. My back is still aching from the journey down here.”
Brit oversaw preparations for the trip; Merlin spent time alone, thinking over the events they’d witnessed. Nimue suspected he knew who the killer was, or had a strong suspicion; but when she asked, he put her off. “It’s too early. There is still no proof.”
They traveled swiftly and were careful to avoid London and Caesar’s Bones. Thankfully, there was no more rain or snow, and they made good time. The party arrived at Camelot two nights later; it was nearly midnight and most of the residents were already asleep. They installed Petronus in an unused room in Merlin’s tower, and Nimue offered to check on him periodically. There were candles to light the room. “No smoke. No awful smell. It’s good to be home,” she said.
Arthur was not happy. It was the next morning; he paced his study, trying a new sword. “This is no good. It doesn’t have the right heft or the right balance. I want Excalibur back.” Arthur glared at Merlin then struck at the stone windowsill with his sword. The blade broke neatly in half. “I’ve tried three of these. None is as good as Excalibur. I want you to find it for me.”
“That means finding the killer. You know we’re doing what we can. But we have to be realistic. Excalibur may well have been melted down by now. Or shipped to the mainland and sold on the international market. The same for the stone and the shrine.”
Arthur listened to Merlin’s account of the events at Corfe and frowned ever more deeply. Merlin laid it all out, coolly, dispassionately. Ganelin’s chart was on the table in front of him.
“Our villain would have killed again, Arthur, and the victim would have been Britomart this time.”
“And this boy, this-what is his name?”
“Petronus.”
“Petronus. How is he?
A slight smile crossed Merlin’s lips. “His wounds weren’t terribly deep, despite all the blood. Nothing vital was pierced. But it was quite traumatic for him. He can’t understand why someone would attack him so viciously.”
Arthur slashed the air with the broken sword. “He doesn’t know about the murders, then?”
“No. It was… awkward. I suppose that would be the word. He thinks Camelot is a peaceful, harmonious court. He’ll be over it in a few weeks, possibly less.”
“Splendid. The boy is lucky you were there to tend him.”
“As I said, it looked worse than it actually was. I’m planning to have Colin take care of him while Brit and I are off in the lake country.”
“Well, we have that to be thankful for, at least. There’s been enough death.” For once, Arthur was not drinking. Merlin wondered whether it was a good sign or a bad one. “Colin isn’t going with you?”
Merlin shook his head.
It puzzled Arthur, but he let it pass. “There’s no possibility Petronus was really the intended victim? He was defecting from Guenevere’s court and Lancelot’s service, after all.”
“It’s always a possibility, of course. But he was wrapped in Brit’s cloak.”