“I know there’s a murderer loose and we’re all in danger. Wouldn’t you say so, Colin?” Since their journey to Cornwall together, Brit and Nimue had found a measure of respect for one another; at least the active suspicion and hostility between them had abated.
“I don’t know what to think,” Nimue said. “I’m still new here. Merlin knows everyone so much better than I do. But-”
“But what?” Merlin was losing his patience.
“But-can we afford to take the chance?”
Suddenly, his face lit up with a broad smile. “Of course! That’s it!”
It caught Brit off guard. “You know where he’s hiding?”
“No. But I’ve suddenly realized how to flush the real killer out of secrecy.”
“How?”
“Never you mind. I’ll explain in good time. But it relates to what we’ve been talking about.”
Brit frowned. “I can’t stand you when you’re smug and cryptic.”
“I know, I know.”
“Then stop it. Explain yourself.”
“Not now. I have to find the king.”
Merlin rushed through the castle as quickly as he could on his injured leg. Just as he reached the foot of Arthur’s tower, he met Greffys. “Is he up there?”
“No. He’s in the Great Hall with the heralds.”
“Good. I only hope I can catch him in time.”
Together they headed for the hall, Merlin limping behind the boy. People gaped as the two hurried along corridor after corridor. No one could remember seeing Merlin in such a hurry, wounded leg and all. His cane tapped the stones like a woodpecker.
They found Arthur sitting on a table in the Great Hall with a plate of honey cakes in front of him. On the other side of the hall two dozen of his heralds had gathered and were waiting for him to finish his treat and address them.
“Merlin, Greffys, have one of these. The cooks are getting better.”
“So am I, Arthur.” Merlin beamed. “I’ve found it.”
“Found what? What the devil are you talking about?”
Merlin looked around and lowered his voice. “The stone-I’ve found the key to unleashing its power.”
The king gaped at him. “You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Did Morgan tell you?”
“No, Arthur, I found it myself. I’m not called the greatest scholar in England for nothing, you know.”
“What is it, then? Tell me.”
“Not yet. I still have to track down some details. But I’m glad I’ve caught you before you sent the heralds out.”
“You want this announced?”
“To everyone. I want the whole country to know the power the Stone of Bran has given us.”
“This doesn’t sound like you, Merlin. What power?”
“The power,” he said slowly and carefully, “of life and death.”
Arthur fell silent for a moment. “It is that powerful?”
Merlin nodded gravely, in his best “sage” manner.
“You’re right. All England must know of this. This will make us the greatest power in Europe.”
“If not in the entire world.” Merlin was pleased at the way this was going. If Arthur believed his tale, then it seemed likely that most everyone would. “Have the heralds announce it. Tell them I shall demonstrate at Midwinter Court. Everyone in England will see the truth then.”
“Excellent work, Merlin.”
“And it might be wise to have military escorts accompany the heralds, at least the ones who are summoning Morgan, Guenevere and Mark. Just to make certain they accept your gracious invitation.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes. “We know who did the murders, remember?”
“Yes, of course, Arthur. I simply want to make sure, that’s all.”
“You’re up to something. But I’ll do it.”
“Oh, and something else occurred to me.”
“Yes? What?”
“Have you given much thought to the entertainment for court?”
“No, I can’t honestly say that I have. Why?”
“While the heralds are out, have them look for Samuel Gall’s company of actors. They are the best in the country. Have them summoned here to perform for the assembled nobles.”
Arthur bit into another cake. “I will. But it isn’t like you to worry over performers. What’s back of this?”
“Why, Arthur.” He was all innocence. “I simply want your court to be memorable, that is all.”
NINE. ILLUSIONS
It snowed for three days. The world was soft, white and frigid. On the second morning Merlin was in his tower reading, with Roc on his shoulder, when he heard a scratching at the window. The other two ravens, the ones that had been missing, were there, trying desperately to get inside.
He opened the shutter and let them in. They flew directly to the hearth, not too close, and warmed themselves. Then a moment later they flapped their wings and went to his shoulders and nuzzled him.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispered. “But you’ve come back. Is that a sign?”
Roc, standing at the edge of the table, squawked shrilly as if to say, “The world does not send us signs.”
Merlin named the other two birds Phoenix and Osiris, after two mythological figures who had conquered death. They began responding to their names almost at once.
By the third morning, Merlin was feeling restless. He headed to the stables and asked one of the grooms to prepare a horse cart for him.
Camelot was full of activity as the household staff decorated for Midwinter Court. Every available space was hung with holly and evergreen branches, to signify the triumph of life over death on this feast when the sun reached its lowest point and began to climb in the sky again. Hundreds- thousands-of candles were set about; the castle would be ablaze with light as, at least in theory, the heavens were. Singers and musicians and handbell ringers rehearsed, loudly, songs celebrating the season. And great stores of provisions were being brought in from surrounding farms and villages so that Arthur’s guests would want for nothing.
Arthur circulated through the castle, overseeing it all and beaming at the work, and even helping to arrange the holly now and then. When he encountered Merlin he greeted him heartily. “They’re doing a wonderful job, aren’t they? I love holidays. The lights, the colors… and we’re having plays. One of the heralds found your friend Samuel Gall.”
"Fine, Arthur.” He adopted his patient teacher manner.
Arthur blinked and gaped at him. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t like the Midwinter feasting?”
“I do not mean to tell you anything at all about it. But since you ask…”
“Merlin, how on earth can you not enjoy this? The lights, the colors, the music… I’ve loved Midwinter since I was a boy.”
“You are still a boy, Arthur, in more ways than you realize. ”
The king looked at him suspiciously. “Explain yourself, killjoy.”
“I have never understood the concept of happiness by the calendar. ‘Oh, goodness, it is such and such a date. That means I’m going to feel good and find life wonderful. Never mind that there are assassins on the loose.’ ”
“Go and have a drink, Merlin. You need it.”
“As it happens, I’m heading to the kitchen, for some breakfast.”
“Even that will help.”
So Merlin left Arthur happily hanging holly and humming hymns to the newborn sun. In the refectory he encountered Petronus who, always anxious to make himself useful, offered to be his driver.
They finished eating and walked to the stable together. “But, sir, where are we going?”
“A great deal is going to happen here in the coming days, Petronus. I need to be alone, to think and to meditate, at least for a few hours. There is one place in the world where I have always been able to do that.”
“And where is that, sir?”
“Stonehenge.”
“But… but that is in Salisbury, sir.”
“I know it. If the roads are passable we can get there in two hours or so. Let us hope. You may go to the local inn to keep warm while I spend contemplative time at the monument. ”