Then that night another sailor from the Mal de Mer died, in exactly the same way as Jean-Gaston. Not much later a third man died, this one from a Greek ship, the Sophia, that had come to Dover after a trading stop in North Africa.
Rumor spread quickly among all the festival-goers in the town. The word plague was bandied about freely, and the town and its visitors were palpably edgy. Then, when a fourth sailor, from still another ship, took ill, complete hysteria erupted. Foreign visitors flocked back to their ships. English visitors hastened to pack and leave for their home-towns; residents of Dover took to the countryside. Merlin and Ewan scarcely had time to react; in a startlingly short time-before midnight struck-Dover was nearly deserted. The roadblocks did little good to halt the exodus or even to slow it. And the plague, if plague it really was, was loose in England.
Next afternoon, with Dover quite empty of people, Merlin decided he would be of most use back at Camelot.
Ewan was alarmed. “You can’t leave me, sir, not with all this happening. Remember, I am only a sergeant.”
“With the people gone, there is not much for you to do. Is Captain Larkin not due back shortly?”
“On the day of the equinox, sir. Tomorrow.”
“There should be no problem, then. You have done a first-class job, Sergeant, and I will make certain to tell Britomart and the king. Do you have a carriage you could spare for us?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make the arrangements. When do you wish to leave? First thing in the morning?”
“No, now, I think. There is no time to be lost. We must travel all night to reach Camelot, if need be.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send a spare driver along, then, so you will lose as little time as possible.”
“Excellent. We will leave our two soldiers with you. And you will of course brief Captain Larkin on all that has happened in Dover?”
“Naturally, sir.”
“Splendid. We will get our things together and leave as soon as possible, then. Our two soldiers will remain here, to replace them and give what help they can.
“Please instruct Captain Larkin that we will expect daily communications from Dover, advising us on the situation here. The residents will have to return, eventually. There may be further outbreaks of illness or, worse, riots. We will need to know what is happening here. And of course you must include any news you may hear of things in the surrounding countryside.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
It took little over an hour for Merlin and his aides to pack for the journey back to Camelot. By that time, Ewan had their carriage prepared. The three of them climbed in and braced themselves for the long ride home.
Nimue was in a glum mood. “I’ve never lived through anything like this.”
“No one has. No one here, at any rate.”
“It’s going to rain.”
“This is England. It is always going to rain.”
No one laughed at Merlin’s little joke, not even Merlin himself. The carriage moved forward with a considerable jolt, and they were off. Petronus asked still again if they could stop at Stonehenge to witness sunrise on the morning of the equinox. “I think we should get there just about at the right time.”
“We are facing a national emergency, Petronus.” Merlin looked out the window, not at the boy. “There is hardly time for sightseeing. Besides, see those clouds building up? I doubt there will be a sunrise for anyone to see.”
“The ceremony, then? Surely a few minutes cannot make such a big difference?”
“When this is all behind us, I will bring you to Stonehenge myself and give you a tour.”
Nimue could not resist. “And what better tour guide than the wizard who built it with his magical powers?”
Merlin snorted and shifted so his back was to them.
The first leg of their route took them directly through the heart of Dover. Streets were deserted; abandoned animals looked in vain for their owners; one lone ship remained in the harbor, its crew seemingly frozen into immobility; it all had the eeriest air. Nimue said she had never seen a place so melancholy.
“Hell may be coming to England, Colin. It may already have arrived. None of us will survive if we do not learn to love one another. Willful cruelty is the usual pastime of the human race. Let us hope this will change that. Arthur and I want to make a world where-” Unexpectedly he broke off. “No, this is no time for a speech. I am the greatest fool the world has known.”
She put her hand on top of his, hoping the gesture reassured him, and they rode on in silence. Before long the rhythmic motion of the carriage and the clatter of the horses’ hooves had lulled them all into a gentle sleep.
Not long after dark the rain began, a fierce, driving downpour. The noise of it woke the passengers. They shuttered the windows and rode on, quite safely encapsulated, without much conversation. Nimue offered blankets to the drivers, to help keep them dry, but it was useless. The blankets were soaked through in no time at all.
After a time, they slept again, all but Merlin, who was preoccupied wondering if the natural calamity he feared would be the undoing of the England he and Arthur had made. In time, he slept, too.
Early the next morning, well before dawn, the carriage’s pace slowed almost to a stop. It woke Merlin and Petronus. The others slept on.
“What’s wrong?” Petronus asked softly.
Merlin held a finger to his lips and said quietly, “There is no sense disturbing Colin.” Then he leaned out the window and called softly to the driver, “What is happening? Why have we slowed?”
The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle that showed no signs of letting up. The sky was still overcast, almost black, though occasional breaks in the cloud cover could be seen. The driver, himself drowsing, did not hear him. On the seat beside him the second man, his relief, was fast asleep. “How they can sleep in this rain-” Merlin muttered.
He repeated his question a bit more loudly, and this time the man responded. “The rain, sir, has turned the road to mud. We can only go so fast. On top of that, the road is clogged with travelers. Most of them are on foot.”
Merlin squinted and looked up the road ahead of them. Through the rain and the darkness he could see that there were enormous numbers of people on the road. They progressed in silence and in darkness; the rain had extinguished whatever lights they might have had. “Travelers? In such huge numbers? Who on earth can they be?”
The man shrugged. “People fleeing from Dover. We’ve finally caught up with them.”
“Has everyone from Dover taken the same road, then?”
“And I think a lot of them must be pilgrims, heading to the shrine.”
“Shrine? Oh. Stonehenge.”
“Yes, sir. It’s too bad. They won’t see the sunrise.”
“They will face worse disappointments soon enough.”
Before long the press of people forced the carriage to slow to the pace of a man walking. Merlin suggested trying to find a way around the crowd.
“Look at them, sir. They are all around us. Everywhere.”
And so they were. Hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands, as far as Merlin could see. They crossed the plain, clogged the road, made further progress excruciatingly slow. Soon enough, Merlin realized, it might be necessary to stop altogether. He said so to Petronus, who did not try to disguise his delight. “Then I will be able to see the monument after all!”
“Yes, I suppose so. Assuming the plague is not spreading through this crowd even as we speak.”