“I can think of no other. But if Your Majesty wishes it-”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Merlin. Morgan, Marmaduke, Marian and her sons… When I think about it my head spins.”
Merlin turned pensive. “Marmaduke.”
“What about him? You think that he-?”
“No, it is not that, Arthur. There was something he said. Something that resonated with me. But I cannot remember what.”
“You will. You always do.”
“If I could only remember.” He looked at the king. “But for once I think you may be correct about these crimes, Arthur. I fear this is not over yet.”
NINE
The weather grew worse and worse. Waves of snow and wind alternated with driving rain. The air turned warmer, then cold again. Roads froze and thawed. Arthur’s party made slow progress on its way to rebury the Stone, then slower, then a bit more rapid. Cloaks were not sufficient against the cold. Every few hours progress halted completely and the men built fires to warm themselves.
Merlin and Peter rode in their carriage, wrapped in blankets. The other carriage, carrying the Stone of Bran, followed just behind them. Since it was lighter, it gained less traction on muddy or icy roads and frequently had to be pushed or pulled past some difficult patch.
For a time a flock of ravens followed the party. Men took it as a bad omen, but when Arthur reminded them of Merlin’s pets, they relaxed somewhat. When Merlin tried calling to the birds, they did not respond. “These are not my birds,” he told Arthur. “They do not respond to the language I use with Roc and the others.”
“Sorcerer.”
Merlin ignored this. “Ravens are naturally scavengers. They are following us for the bits of food we leave behind us.” But after two days, the ravens disappeared.
The journey passed through one tiny village after another. The sight of an approaching army, even a small one, invariably alarmed the residents. They expected to be conquered, pillaged, perhaps put to death. Assurances from Arthur and Bedivere helped calm these fears, but the people never really relaxed till the royal party passed on.
None of them seemed to have any clear idea who Arthur was. Bedivere would explain patiently that he was Arthur, King of all England, but the information meant nothing to them. The concept of England as a unified nation was alien. In a few hamlets the elders had heard of Arthur; in most they had not. Bedivere made certain the men in the party behaved decorously, foraged for their own food, left the women and boys alone.
From time to time Arthur joined Merlin in the carriage. Peter would discreetly exit and find a horse for the short time he needed it.
Merlin’s arthritis was, inevitably, bothering him. “We really must talk to our people about installing more comfortable seats in these conveyances, Arthur.”
Arthur’s eyes twinkled. “Would you rather be riding a horse?”
Merlin snorted. “That is hardly the point.” He paused. “How much farther is it to-what is the name of the place? Grosfalcon? I want to see the Stone reburied and get back to Camelot and comfort.”
“Patience is a virtue, Merlin.”
“Do not needle me, Arthur. I am in pain enough.”
“About those coins we’re having minted…”
The sudden shift of subject made Merlin’s ears prick up. “Yes?”
“Do you see, now, why I think they’re so important?
Why they are not simply a product of royal vanity? Most of the people in England seem to have no idea who their king is. Or that they have a king at all. The coins will help change that, build awareness that England is a nation now, not merely a collection of feuding fiefdoms.”
“Yes, fine, Arthur, but-”
“And the people will know who their king is. A unified system of coinage will help us in our work. When we have to deal with other nations-when we treat with the Byzantine Empire, for instance-we will present a strong, united face. And when in time I name an heir, everyone in England will know him.”
“Of course, Arthur. But how will you persuade the nation to use your coins? Can you imagine Marmaduke, for instance, requiring his subjects to convert to this new monetary system?”
“Marmaduke is on his way to jail.”
“But how many other Marmadukes are there, in how many corners of Britain? How many of them will follow your dictum to use coins with your portrait?”
“They will, in time. You’re my policy advisor, for heaven’s sake. You’re supposed to find ways to implement my policies, not find reasons why they won’t work.”
Merlin shrugged. He wanted to point out that Arthur’s potential heirs were dying at an alarming rate, but it seemed wiser not to raise the issue.
Another messenger from Camelot caught up with the party. Among other missives, he had another letter for Merlin. But this one, surprisingly, was not from Nimue. It was from Merlin’s other assistant, Petronus.
Merlin,
I am writing because I know that you wanted to be informed of events at Camelot. Colin asked me to send you this letter. He wanted me to assure you that everything is under control here and that the news from the surrounding countryside continues favorable.
Ships putting in at our ports carry rumors that this plague has been deliberately spread by the Byzantines. Whether that is true or whether people are being unduly suspicious, we have no way of knowing.
Colin is not writing himself because he is ill. He has developed a severe cold and has spent the last two days in bed. But please do not worry. It is only a cold, nothing more. And Marian of Bath and her son Wayne are tending him.
Your student and assistant,
Petronus
Merlin grew immediately alarmed. He took pen and paper and wrote a response.
Petronus,
Do not under any circumstances permit Marian and Wayne anywhere near Colin. Another messenger is on his way to Camelot with instructions to arrest them on suspicion of murder. If by chance this should reach you before that other messenger does, take this note to Simon at once and see that they are arrested.
Merlin
He had the note countersigned by Arthur himself, so that Simon could not question its authority, then sent it off, with instructions to the rider to rest as little as humanly possible and reach Camelot as rapidly as he could.
Arthur was puzzled by the urgency. “Why should you be so concerned about Colin? No one thinks he is one of my sons.”
“With so many of your… possible successors eliminated, you may have to look elsewhere for the next… ruler. Colin is bright, educated, thoughtful, perceptive. You could do much worse than to name him.”
“I hardly know the boy.”
“That is not the point. It is not merely your bloodline that is under attack. It is the very concept of English stability and continuity. How well did you know John of Paintonbury?”
“Point taken. But-”
“I am not suggesting that you actually should adopt Colin as your heir, mind you. There would be too many… complications. But you have littered the country with children, Arthur. Whether you did it to spite Guenevere or simply because you are a robust young man is irrelevant. Colin has reached a position of some authority at Camelot. He is being trained by me-by your chief advisor-and has assumed a great deal of responsibility. How could anyone not suspect…” He let the thought trail off, unfinished. Nimue had become like a daughter to him. The thought that Arthur’s indiscretions might have put her life at risk was too awful for him to think about. “Let us hope one or the other of our messengers reaches home before anything terrible happens.”
Arthur fell silent. After a moment of quiet thought, he uttered softly one word. “Daughters.”
“I beg your pardon, Arthur?”
“Nothing. Just a passing thought. I ought to get back to my horse and the head of the column. The knights there are carrying banners that announce me. I ought to be there.” And he left the carriage quickly.