“Be quiet.” The operation was completed in a surprisingly short time. When he had set the last of the globes aside to cool, Nimue picked up where she’d left off. “Petronus and I haven’t been anywhere for months, Merlin. I’m feeling stale. And I’d like to take a trip somewhere before winter sets in.”
“There have been reports of raids on the Scottish coast by Norsemen.” He smiled at her ironically. “Would you like to go there? You could gather intelligence.”
“Don’t be difficult about this, Merlin. You know Dover will have a huge autumn market festival in two weeks. People from all over the southeast will be there, and probably visitors from around the Mediterranean, and Petronus and I want to go. And you should come, too. Who knows? We might pick up some interesting news.”
“In Dover? The only news we could possibly pick up there is the price of mackerel.” He turned to look at Petronus and asked him, in inquisitorial tones, “You wish to go there, too?”
The boy had been silent for the longest time, listening, amused, at their exchange. Now he nodded energetically and said in strongly accented English, “I love fairs. The ones at home used to have roundabouts. I love rides.”
“You are too old for that sort of thing.”
“I am not. Besides, if the weather is good, you can see France from Dover. I’m feeling a little bit homesick.”
Merlin picked up the first globe he’d blown and inspected it. “No flaws. I believe I am getting better.” To Petronus he said, “ Dover attracts-what would the word be?-eccentrics from far and near. You might be shocked at some of the behavior.”
“I am French, remember, not an English prude. Nothing shocks me.” He tried to sound worldly, not quite successfully. “I attended a fair at Mendola once, in the Pyrenees, and there were young women there dressed as boys. I found it very exciting.”
Merlin glanced at Nimue, who was keeping her features carefully neutral. Then to Petronus he said, “You are too young to be excited.”
“Stop saying things like that. I turn sixteen in a few months.”
“A man of the world, then.” Merlin grinned at the boy; Nimue laughed openly.
Petronus sulked. “Why are both of you so determined to think of me as a child? You act as if you were my parents.”
“Heaven forbid.” Nimue had not stopped chuckling. “But Merlin, we really should make this trip. We all need a change. And for once there are no crises demanding our attention. Let’s go.”
He sighed. “I will raise the subject with Arthur. If he consents…”
“Yes?”
“If he consents, I will give it some serious thought.”
“We can bring you around. We always do.”
The bird Roc flapped onto the worktable and scrambled around, pecking at everything it thought might be food.
Suddenly a thought seemed to hit Merlin and he turned to Petronus. “Should you not be in school now?”
The school Merlin had established for the squires and pages at Camelot had grown with remarkable speed. Two teachers had been imported, one each from France and Germany, to take the teaching burden off Merlin and Nimue. The students, required to attend by royal order, grumbled but learned. The knights they served complained to Arthur constantly; books were for clerks and women, not knights and squires. It was a source of constant friction. But over time Arthur had begun to see the advantages of having men who were educated, not just skillful in combat. Camelot would be richer for it.
Petronus sulked again. “We’re doing Sophocles today. I already know his writing-from you.”
“Even so, you should go. Truancy is never a good idea. Run along, now.”
The boy moped. “Yes, maman.”
“And do not be sarcastic. Oh-when you reach the top of the staircase, would you check and see if the water is boiling?”
Nimue chimed in, “I started the fire half an hour ago.”
“Even so. Now will you go, Petronus?”
Petronus jumped to his feet and ran to the door. “I’ll be back after I’ve dazzled the class with my erudition.”
“We’ll wait. It may take a while.”
Petronus left quickly. Once he was gone, Nimue’s mood turned more serious. “That boy is onto me. You heard him.”
“Sooner or later, it was inevitable. Do you not trust him?”
“After what he tried to do to Arthur last year? What do you think?”
“He was under duress. You know that. He has been tireless in helping me.”
“Besides, it isn’t that, Merlin. It’s just that it feels odd, having someone know.”
“Britomart knows. She has for ages.”
“Yes, and I’m always ill at ease around her. Having someone else in on the secret…”
“And his interest is erotic.” Merlin was amused by the situation. “You heard what he said. Women who dress as men excite him. And he likes you older women.” His eyes twinkled. “Imagine, having a youthful admirer at your tender age.”
“Be quiet. I want to go to the fair at Dover.”
“You are relentless, Nimue.”
“That is something else I’ve learned from you.”
From outside the room Petronus called, “Everything is ready, Merlin.”
“Thank you, Petronus. Now get to class.”
He turned back to Nimue. “I don’t know whether to be flattered by what you said. At any rate, if we are to go, I will have to get Arthur’s permission.”
She turned and pushed the window shutter open wide. “It’s going to be a lovely day, Merlin. And a lovely autumn, I think. Let’s not waste it shut up in Camelot.”
“It is too cool for my taste. Besides, the king-”
“You can handle Arthur. You always do.”
“He has this little crisis right now.”
“Is Guenevere on the loose again?”
“Nothing so dramatic, I am afraid.” He extinguished the flame he had worked over. “We are planning to issue new coins. He is fretting about which portrait of himself to use on them. He wants to show himself to best advantage.”
“Ah, the male ego.”
“Women, of course, are all quite modest. At any rate, if he is happy with his final decision, he will be in a good mood. That will be the time to ask him.”
“Do it, then.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Merlin’s study-cum-laboratory was on the top floor of what everyone called, to his annoyance, the Wizard’s Tower. When he reached the landing outside the door he stopped and looked down the stairway; more than a hundred fifty steps wound down to the main floor of the castle.
A steam boiler bubbled busily nearby; above it was an assemblage of wheels, gears and chains. One long chain hung down to ground level, connected directly to the mechanism, so that he could operate it from there. Merlin stopped to check a valve on the boiler. “Yes, perfect.” Then he walked to the spot where a metal chair hung suspended precariously. “Time to go down.” He smiled at Nimue. “Will you start the mechanism for me?”
He moved to the very edge of the stairwell and climbed gingerly into the chair. It swung giddily over the long drop, and he took tight hold of the chains to try to steady it.
“You’re going to kill yourself in that thing someday, Merlin.”
“I am feeling my arthritis today. The stairs would be… Besides, you know perfectly well this is safe if used with due caution.”
“Of course.” She did not try to hide her skepticism.
She pulled a third chain, and slowly the chair descended. Nimue followed along on the steps, chatting with Merlin as they went down. When finally the chair reached the main level, he stood, arranged his robes, stretched and headed off to see Arthur.
“Don’t forget Dover,” she prodded.
“Be careful. No one likes a nagging woman.”
“I am a boy, remember?”
Merlin had built his “lifting machine” from plans by the legendary Hero of Alexandria. His friend Germanicus Genentius, the Byzantine governor of Egypt, had found them in the Library of Alexandria and sent precise copies to Merlin. Everyone at Camelot thought it was a marvel, some for its ingenuity, some for what they took as its folly. Arthur and most of his knights had insisted on taking rides in it, and most of them were duly terrified; one of them, the French knight Sir Accolon, shrieked like a terrified girl.