“Excuse me, Your Majesty, but what girl? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“There was a girl last night. She came to my room.” He sounded more bewildered than ferocious. He held up his hand and rubbed his forehead. “Called herself Elaine or some such. I think she drugged me.”
The guards outside had their swords drawn.
“A girl? What on earth could a girl do?”
“This one was treacherous. A scheming, lying-”
“But, Your Highness, what does this have to do with me?”
He stopped and took a deep breath. “She was seen. She was seen coming this way-toward this wing. Someone saw her at your door. You must have seen or heard her.”
She thought quickly. The gown she’d worn was still hidden under the bed; if they searched the room- “A blond girl in a low-cut white dress?”
“Yes. Where is she, damn it?”
“I saw her pass. Late at night. She was running.”
“Which way?”
She pointed down the hall that led to the castle’s main entrance.
One of the guards leaned in. Nimue recognized him as the one who’d been on duty outside Mark’s room the previous night. “As I told you, sir.”
Mark turned and flared at him. “How could she have gotten out past the guards there?”
“They don’t question people who are leaving, only the ones who are trying to get in.”
Mark scowled. “She can’t have gotten away.”
“The question is, how did she get in to begin with?”
“Damn breach of security. She might have been anyone. She might have been an assassin. Let’s question the guards at the main gate.”
They turned to go. Then the guard turned back into the room and stared at Nimue. His eyes narrowed suspiciously; he seemed to be inspecting her carefully. She froze; she didn’t even breathe. He peered at her.
He was about to say something when from down the hall came Mark’s roar. “William! Come on!”
The guard shook his head, as if to say he didn’t know why he would suspect Colin. Then he turned and followed his king.
A few minutes later Britomart came to Nimue’s room. Nimue told her what had happened and the things Mark had said the previous night.
“So. Merlin has been right. Arthur has been a fool to trust Mark, and I’ve been a fool to doubt Merlin’s judgment.”
“Why a fool, Brit? To all appearances Mark has been a loyal subject to Arthur.”
“Yes, but… I should have known. Something should have told me.”
“There’s no way you could have.”
“Then why do I feel so completely foolish? But…”
“Hm?”
“Even given that Mark is engaged in treason, that doesn’t prove he killed the squires.”
“It makes it that much more likely.”
“Arthur wants proof. Proof.”
“If we can get him to arrest Mark for treason, and if there are no more murders…”
“That’s not good enough. Arthur is no fool. Everyone plots to advance his own interests. If we arrest everyone who does that, who would be left?”
“Cheerful thought.”
“There has to be a way to unmask Mark. But how?”
Nimue crawled out of bed. “Let’s get going. I hope we can make Camelot by tonight. I want my own bed and a king who’ll leave me alone.”
Late that morning their party left Mark’s castle and Cornwall. The weather had been good for their entire trip. Now clouds were building up on the western horizon, and the Atlanticlooked restless. Waves began to pound both sides of the peninsula. There was a stiff wind.
Accolon and his men had enjoyed two days of leisure, but even they were happy to be returning home. Accolon said they were all made nervous by the air of secrecy and suspicion that pervaded Mark’s castle.
Nimue had been careful to bring a supply of acid globes and kept them where she could reach them quickly if they were attacked. “It seems incredible to me that Mark is letting us get away.”
Brit shrugged. “As far as he knows-or can imagine- the woman who was in his bedroom last night is the real spy and the real danger. She has nothing to do with us. Or let us hope that’s what he thinks. You did an excellent job, by the way. I shudder to think what you had to do to get him to open up.”
“Less than you’d think. He was drunk when I got there. Drugging his wine was simple.”
“That’s good. But…”
“Yes?”
“How far would you have gone, if you’d needed to?”
“I don’t know. And I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.”
They traveled as quickly as the roads would permit, and they were home an hour after sunset. The night sky was black with clouds. Nimue hoped it wasn’t an omen.
They went straight to Merlin’s tower and told him what they’d learned. He seemed upset by the news. “It would be Mark.”
“I thought you suspected him all along.” Nimue was puzzled.
“I did. But a suspicion has turned into a near-certainty, and with it all the awful possibilities have become more real.”
Brit leaned back and put her feet up on the table. “Suppose we send soldiers to arrest him before he can do anything more?”
“Arthur won’t wear it. We still need hard proof. Besides, the scenario we’ve assembled doesn’t quite make sense to me. Mark is trying to provoke some kind of nationwide insurrection, that much seems clear. What on earth would murdering two boys gain him?”
Nimue was about to say something when they heard footsteps on the staircase outside; someone was running. A moment later there came a loud knock at the door. Merlin asked who it was.
“Greffys, sir. I have news.”
“Come in.”
Greffys opened the door and stepped into the room, out of breath and panting heavily.
“You need to start exercising more often, Greffys.” Brit was amused at his entrance. “Climbing a few steps shouldn’t wind you so.”
He ignored her. “I have news, Merlin.” There was urgency in his tone.
“What is it? For heaven’s sake, Greffys, calm down.”
Panting, he said, “We’ve found them.”
“Them? What on earth do you mean?”
“The Stone of Bran and Excalibur. We’ve found them.”
EIGHT. THE PHANTOM OF CAMELOT
“Found them where?” Merlin’s voice was low; Nimue thought it was possible to hear skepticism in it.
“Come, sir, please. The king sent me to fetch you.”
All of them got to their feet, Merlin more slowly than the others. Brit watched him, wondering if it was the effect of his age, his injuries or unhappiness at this wrinkle when he was so certain he had solved the killings. They followed Greffys down the spiral staircase and through Camelot. Merlin, still walking with his cane, lagged behind the others. Torches lit the halls starkly. It became apparent they were heading to the wing where the petty kings were quartered.
“Greffys, I want you to tell me where they were found. Where precisely are we going?” Merlin had never sounded more grave, or more concerned.
“To Pellenore’s room, sir.” The boy kept walking and picked up his pace slightly.
“Pellenore had them.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, sir.”
“And were they being guarded by a dragon?”
Greffys looked back over his shoulder. “The king sent me for you, sir. He wants you there.”
In another few moments they had reached Pellenore’s quarters. Arthur was in the corridor outside, pacing, looking quite unhappy, talking to a young woman. Pellenore was a few feet away from him; he had pressed himself into an angle of the hallway, and the expression on his face said clearly that he was puzzled and alarmed. Four knights attended Arthur; one more, with sword drawn, stood over Pellenore.
“Merlin. Thank heaven you got here.”
“What is it, Arthur? What is this about?”
“This is Alarica. She is one of the household staff.” He turned to the young woman. “Tell him.” Merlin recognized her. He had interviewed her among the other household staff, briefly; she had known nothing of interest.