“I have written every day.”
“So His Majesty tells me.”
Arthur rubbed his hands together and poured goblets of wine. “We have just been discussing the situation. Apparently someone has been interfering with our couriers.”
“I see. And whoever it is must be the killer.”
“I thought so.” Peter took his wine and drank deeply. “Naturally I thought you should know. I’m afraid my inquiries have gone nowhere. But if we can find out who’s been doing this…” He left the sentence unfinished and took another drink.
“And who is protecting the village and the castle while you are here?”
“I have two deputies. I have trained them quite thoroughly. Darrowfield is in good hands.”
“I see. How is Lady Darrowfield?”
“Wracked by grief. More for her sons than for her husband, but even so… She is not too mournful to work at consolidating her position as Lord Darrowfield’s heir.”
“She wants the fiefdom for herself?” A look of concern crossed Merlin’s face.
Peter nodded.
“I have just been telling Peter about this journey we’re making.” Arthur drained his cup and poured himself more. “We won’t have time to get a full report from him. There is too much for him to tell. The murders, whatever has been happening to our envoys… I’ve suggested that Peter come along with us. He can ride in your carriage and give you all the information you require. Unless you’d rather wait till we get back for Peter’s report.”
“No, no, it will be fine, of course. It has come as a surprise, that is all.”
“Government is always a matter of surprises, Merlin.” Arthur drained another cup.
“Please do not remind me. Or, if you must, at least try not to sound so hearty about it.”
“Stop grumping at me.”
“Well, it is late, and I need my rest. I will see you both in the courtyard tomorrow morning, then.” He found Robert and went back to the Wizard’s Tower and bed.
And so the next morning, well before dawn, the party assembled in Camelot’s main court. Dozens of people-squires, knights, servants-were there, forming up in a rough line, some to accompany the king, some to see him off.
A score of Camelot’s knights, dressed to the teeth in their armor, though no one anticipated much danger, strutted about, jockeying for position; each of them wanted to ride as close to the king as possible. Arthur had solved the problem of their constant bickering within Camelot by adopting his famous circular table. But once they were outside the castle, it was a free-for-all. Perceval was there of course, to guide them to the place where he had found the Stone. And Bors, Gawain, Kay, Agravaine, Accolon, Lionel… they squabbled like old women after succulent fruit in the marketplace. Merlin watched them with detached amusement.
Simon of York was there, fussily overseeing last-minute preparations, dressed in his finest clothing as if he thought it might impress someone. He went from person to person and from group to group issuing orders, which they promptly ignored.
Bedivere and Britomart, neither of whom was leaving on the journey with Arthur, emerged from the castle and approached him. The king greeted them with robust heartiness. “Do you have it clear what I want you to do, Bed?”
“Yes, Arthur, but-”
“Do it, then, and don’t bicker. You are to follow us one day later. If we have any trouble, you will come along and fix it.”
“If it is still fixable. I hardly have to tell you how much can go wrong in a day. This idea of you making your progress with only forty armed men-”
“How many times do we have to go over this? We were up half the night, arguing about it. The country is in turmoil. If I travel with a sizeable force, it will give the appearance of tyranny or, worse, that I want to start the civil wars again. I will not try and explain to you still again how catastrophic that could be. If we-”
“Would you rather have them think the king who was victorious in those wars is a fool?” Bedivere was offhand.
Arthur worked to maintain patience. “Look, you know how tenuous our position is. Half the barons in England would start fighting again on the least pretext. More than half. Look at John’s father, Marmaduke of Paintonbury. He’d go back to war against us gleefully. We can’t afford-I can’t afford-to give him that pretext.”
“That does not make what you want to do sensible, Arthur,” Brit protested. “I beg you to reconsider this foolish plan. Or at least take more knights with you now. We have no idea what dangers may-”
“That is quite enough, both of you. I have decided on this, and that’s that. It is the royal will.”
“But strategically this is-”
“Enough, Brit! I have decided, and that’s that.”
She glared at him. “This is what comes of listening to Merlin on military matters instead of your military staff.”
“Merlin does not enter into it. You know I never consult him on things touching the army.”
“Be serious, Arthur. You can’t expect us to believe that.”
Arthur made a quick survey to see that the preparations were proceeding. Then, still talking, still bickering, the three of them went back inside the castle.
A large carriage had been readied for Merlin; he had made it clear to Arthur and to Simon that he had no intention of suffering a journey of this length on horseback. And there was also a second carriage, solely to carry the Stone of Bran in its silver shrine, along with two guards.
Robert met Merlin beside the carriages. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Robert.”
“This is all rather exciting, isn’t it?”
“That is not the adjective I would use.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Nonsensical would be the correct word.”
“I don’t follow you, sir.”
“Never mind. You have packed all my things, as I instructed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My medical kit?”
The boy nodded. “It is all in the carriage. I was up before dawn getting it all ready.” He grinned, pleased with himself. “Are we-is there really any chance we’ll encounter the plague, sir?”
A squire pushed past them, nearly knocking Merlin off balance. He glared at the young man. “I certainly hope so. If there is any justice in England.”
“You shouldn’t joke about a thing like that.”
“What makes you think I am joking?”
Nimue joined them. Merlin went over last-minute instructions with her. “I shall want daily reports on the disease’s progress. Send the most reliable riders you can find. Someone’s been interfering with communications between Camelot and Darrowfield. We can’t let that happen to us. Write more often than daily, if you think it warranted.”
“Yes, Merlin.”
“And you must keep in careful contact with the mayors of all the important cities. Tell them what you must, to avoid panic. Invent, if need be.”
“We’ve been over all this, Merlin. Three times.”
“This is not a situation we can take chances with,” he grumped. “Have you met Robert?”
She smiled at the valet. “Yes, of course. At Darrowfield.”
“Of course. I had forgotten. As I told you last evening, Robert is to be my new valet. Oh-and do not let Petronus fall behind in his lessons. You know how lazy he can be.”
“Yes, Merlin.”
“I wish the king did not want me on this foolish trip.”
“Yes, Merlin.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Do I detect a note of patient condescension?”
“Yes, Merlin.” She turned to Robert. “How long do you think it will take you to get used to this?”
“Believe me, compared to my mother, Merlin is the soul of calm reason.” He smiled, first at Nimue, then at Merlin.
Simon came past again, consulting a sheaf of papers in his hand and barking orders at everyone, quite ineffectually. Merlin could not resist goading him. “And do you have any instructions for the plague dead, Simon?”
Simon glared at him and kept moving.
“Don’t go.” Merlin didn’t want to give up his little game so easily. Simon turned and faced him again, not trying to disguise how unhappy he was.