“I do. But Arthur-”
“There were others. The two boys Mark killed. You remember them. I loved them. I loved their mother. Surely you would not deny me the simple joys of love, Merlin?”
“No, of course not. But love in royal families is the exception, not the rule. You love this one?”
“Yes, unlikely as it seems.”
“Then why have you put him in a place that is certain to make everyone in Camelot loathe him?”
Arthur froze; this was a new thought to him. After a moment’s thought he said, “I will simply have to keep him close to me, that’s all.”
“How long have you known him? Do you know him, really, at all?”
“I will not let any harm come to him.”
“Can he fight? Can he defend himself, if it comes to that? No, not if, when.”
“I will keep him safe, Merlin. I will.”
“I hope so, Arthur. I do not mind telling you I am beginning to like the boy.”
“Good. I want you to like him.”
“But he has spent his life raising geese. He is hardly prepared for court life. I only hope that you have not turned him from a goose farmer into a sitting duck.”
Camelot was abuzz with the news that Arthur would be making a pilgrimage to rebury the Stone of Bran. Simon of York was busy preparing the entourage. John and-against his wishes-Merlin were to go along on the journey. Various functionaries would accompany them, as well as a retinue of knights and squires. Gildas was to go along, but Arthur wanted Morgan to remain at Camelot; she bristled at this and insisted that at the very least she should return to her own castle, but Arthur was quite firm. And of course there would be enough servants to tend everyone. It was a large undertaking to be planned impromptu, and Simon was in his glory, fussing over details and complaining about everything.
Arthur hinted that he had come up with a strategy to ensure the party’s safety as it progressed through the territories of possibly hostile barons. Britomart disliked the plan-she said it was far too risky and wanted to go on the journey herself. But Arthur was adamant. “With Merlin gone, you should be here to keep a careful eye on the plague and all the problems it may cause. You will have absolute authority to deal with it any way you see fit.”
Brit was unhappy, but acquiesced to the king’s will.
When Merlin returned to his study that evening he found one of Marian’s twin sons waiting for him. The boy seemed anxious; his hair was unkempt, his clothes disheveled. “Please, sir, I want to go with you.”
“With me? Where?”
“Please, sir, on this journey to Wales. Everyone has heard about it. I want to go.”
Merlin peered at him. “First, tell me who you are.”
“Who I am?” The boy seemed puzzled. “I am Marian’s son. You remember.”
“Yes, I do. But which one?”
“Oh. Oh, that. I am Robert. I’m afraid I forget that my brother and I look alike.”
“You are twins.”
“Wayne loves having a double. I hate it. I always have.”
“I see. And how does your mother feel about it?”
“She loves having twin sons. She encourages us to dress alike, talk alike, do everything as similarly as we can. I have always disliked it. Very much.”
“Then?”
“Mother is a strong-willed woman. She wears me down. Wayne sides with her. But I have never liked being one of identical sons. I never will. That is why I want to come on this journey. It will get me away from them, at least for a time. And for that time I can be myself. I don’t get many opportunities for that. I want to be Robert, not part of a set.”
Merlin sighed. “I see. Families. My own was no bed of roses. Still-how would your mother feel about this?”
The boy stiffened. “Does that matter?”
“Possibly to her.”
“I’m old enough to be on my own.”
“Yes.” A faint smile crossed Merlin’s lips; Robert was not certain what it might mean. “I suppose you are.”
“Please, sir. I can be your valet. I make a good personal servant. You won’t be sorry.”
“My valet.” Merlin turned the thought over in his mind. “Yes. I deserve a bit of pampering.”
Eagerly Robert said, “I’ll pamper you. I’ll see to your every wish.”
Merlin ruminated briefly. “Yes, you may accompany us.”
The boy beamed. “Oh, thank you, sir.”
“You can thank me by being a good valet.”
“I will, sir.”
“First, I want you to go and find Simon.”
“Simon of York?”
“Exactly. He is probably over in the King’s Tower. He clings to Arthur like a barnacle to a ship. Tell him you’ll be coming along. And find out when, exactly, we will be leaving. Then come back here and let me know.”
“Yes, sir.” Robert jumped to his feet. “I can’t wait to have this time away from Mother and Wayne. Thank you so very much.” He dashed out of the room, leaving Merlin to wonder what life would be like with a personal servant.
Later, he told Nimue about it. “I have never had a valet before. It will be an interesting experience. I only hope he does not cling to me too fussily.”
Nimue was wry. “Does he know what he’s in for? Does he know what a curmudgeon you are? Does he know how foolish you think this journey is, and how irritable that will make you? Within two days, he’ll avoid you like the-” She caught herself.
“The plague?” Merlin smiled ruefully. “If only avoiding the plague was that easy. Now if you will excuse me, I want to get some sleep. This journey is likely to be long and frustrating. If I am not rested, I will never survive it.”
An hour later, Merlin crawled into bed. The night was chilly, and he always slept with his windows open so his birds could get in and out, so he pulled a fur coverlet over himself and curled up for what he hoped would be a good night’s rest.
But almost at once there came a knock at his door. He sat up wearily. “Yes?”
The door opened and Robert looked in. “Excuse me, sir. I was sent to fetch you.”
“Sent? By whom?”
“By Simon of York, sir. You are wanted-by the king.”
“By Arthur? What the devil does he want? If he has been drinking again-”
“I don’t know, sir. I was told to say please excuse the late hour, but you must come at once.”
“In the name of everything human!” He climbed out from under the cover. “Hand me my clothes. And fire up the boiler for my lift. Do you know how to do that?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid not.”
“Drat. I will have Petronus show you, as soon as possible.”
Ten minutes later, assisted by Robert, Merlin climbed the spiral stairs to the King’s Tower. Halfway up, they encountered Simon.
“Merlin.” The majordomo smiled too widely for it to be genuine. “And his new valet. How nice to see you.”
“How did you know I’d taken a valet, Simon? It only just happened tonight.”
“It is my job to know everything that occurs in Camelot.” He smiled again, pleased with himself. “The boy came to me and told me he’d be accompanying you on the journey. He said you sent him. I questioned him at length.”
“You sound awfully smug about being a busybody.”
“In the service of the king.” Simon lowered his eyes in mock humility.
“Anyway, what on earth does Arthur want at this hour?”
“There is a visitor.”
“What?! You got me out of bed for that?”
“It is Peter of Darrowfield.”
“Oh.” Merlin turned to Robert. “Give me your hand. We ought to get up there quickly. Good night, Simon.”
Moments later he was at the door of Arthur’s study. He told Robert to wait outside, arranged his clothing so it looked neat, not disheveled, and went in. Peter was there, with the king, still dressed for travel and covered with dust from the road. They both smiled when they saw Merlin, and Peter stood.
“Peter. How wonderful to see you here. Does this mean you have found Lord Darrowfield’s murderer?”
“I regret not. No, Merlin. I came because I have not received any communications from you for more than a week.”