Bedivere spoke to shake them out of it. “What is this place? Is this really Smalfalcon?”
The woman looked at him and laughed.
“Your children and your livestock are running unattended.”
Her companion joined her laughter. “They already know how to enjoy themselves. It is we adults who have to re-learn.”
Slowly other residents of the hamlet were appearing. Most were quite naked. Most were drinking. Most stared at the column of knights with frank indifference. Here and there couples engaged in sexual play. Merlin left his coach and joined Arthur at the head of the column.
Finally Arthur spoke, in his best command voice. “What kind of town is this? Where are the elders? Who is in charge?”
The man who had approached them originally spoke up. “I suppose I am. I am the mayor. Why do you care?” His female companion left his side, tore off her clothes happily and joined a trio of revelers.
Bedivere told the man who Arthur was. “You should display more decorum before your king.”
“Decorum? All that is over with. We’re dead men.”
“The air is frigid. Why is everyone unclothed?”
“Why should the dead bother with clothing?”
Arthur watched the woman and her new companions. “That’s mighty lively activity for corpses.”
“Have you not heard? There’s plague in England. It’s going to take all of us.” He took a hearty drink.
Arthur looked back along the column. A few of his men had dismounted and seemed to be joining the more forward of Smalfalcon’s residents. Sir Sagramore was in the process of removing his armor. A handful of squires and servants, already half undressed, were romping with the locals, kissing, fondling…
Bishop Gildas shouted an order to them to stop. They ignored him. He rushed to Arthur’s side. “Arthur, sire, we must put a stop to this rampant immorality.”
Arthur was equally concerned at the breakdown in discipline but amused at Gildas’s intensity. “How, would you suggest?”
“Order them to stop, that is how.”
“Gildas, you are a man of the world. You’re an Italian, for that matter. Surely you must realize that no order known to mankind can stop hormones from flowing.” He looked back along the line of men. “And frankly, I’d say they aren’t simply flowing but beginning to gush.”
Gildas frowned. “But this kind of carnal lust-”
“I’ll see what I can do, all right?”
The bishop, mollified but sullen, went back to his place.
Arthur conferred quickly with Bedivere and Merlin. “I hate to admit it, but Gildas is right. We can’t permit this.”
“They are knights, yes, Arthur, but they are men, too.” Bedivere was eyeing a red-haired young man wistfully.
“I would suggest,” Merlin offered, “that we simply move on. Quickly, before this takes hold of more of our men. It will be hard enough to stop it now. If we let it get further out of hand…”
Arthur sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right. Bed, give the order to form up. We’ll move out at once. It does seem a pity to waste all these willing young women, though.”
“The young men seem equally willing. Not to mention the old ones.” Bedivere was getting caught up in the carnal atmosphere. “Look at that trio over there.” He pointed. “Not one of them can be under sixty.”
The trinity of merrymakers disappeared behind a cottage. Merlin scowled at the place where they’d been. “At their age.”
“There are times,” Arthur goaded, “when you sound more like Bishop Gildas than either of you would like to admit.”
“Do not be rude, Arthur. Let us get moving and complete our mission as quickly as we can, so we can get back to Camelot. We have a ‘sacred relic’ to bury, remember? Or is it a blasphemous pagan idol?”
Arthur scowled. “Look at what the plague is doing. And it hasn’t even struck here yet. We have to do what we can to stop it. Come on, Bed, let’s get the men back in order and move on.”
And so with some difficulty Bedivere got everyone back into the column. There was grumbling. Many of the men considered him a spoilsport anyway; this only confirmed that opinion. But Bedivere pointed to Arthur in his gleaming battle armor to remind them of their duty. And the column moved on.
Away from the hamlet, the people and their carnal activities were less in evidence. Here and there among the trees a couple or a group would be seen, copulating gleefully. Those of them that saw the line of soldiers waved. Gildas registered more displeasure with each incident.
At one point the trees thinned out and a small lea appeared. In it was a man cavorting with a sheep. Gildas spurred his horse to Arthur’s side and sputtered. “This… must… be… stopped.”
Arthur was amused. “We’re in the country, Gildas. Even in normal times-”
“It is a violation of God’s law!”
“Then I suggest we leave it to God to punish it.”
“But-but-”
“What’s wrong?” Bedivere was laughing openly at the bishop’s fervor. “Can’t we trust your God to enforce his own laws?”
Gildas sulked, fell silent and returned to his place in the column.
In his carriage Merlin was only vaguely aware of everything that was happening. But he could see how unhappy Gildas was, and it pleased him. Every time he looked out of the carriage and saw the frowning bishop, he chuckled.
“Do you really think you should ridicule him so openly?” Peter asked.
“Gildas is a fool.” Merlin laughed. “As if there was some way to persuade people to stop enjoying themselves.”
“But… but a sheep! Really, Merlin.”
“I would not worry, Peter. There is no danger the sheep will get pregnant.”
“That isn’t the issue, and you know it.”
“What I know,” Merlin told him calmly, “is that anything that annoys that man cannot be all bad.”
“His religion has moral standards. Is that such a bad thing?”
Merlin switched to his schoolteacherly demeanor. “The greatest ‘Christian’ power in the world is Justinian’s Byzantine Empire. Or ‘Roman Empire’ as they so grandly call themselves.” He wrinkled his nose. “Most of its grandees could not find Rome on a good map.”
Peter watched the industrious shepherd. “What has that to do with Gildas and that sheep-loving fool out there?”
“There have been whispers that the Byzantines may have sent this plague to decimate us. It seems unlikely to me, but they have been known to spread disease among their enemies in the past.” He was rueful. “And for better or worse, they seem to count us among their enemies. Or at least as a people to be conquered.”
The carriage had moved on past the little meadow. “But a man with a sheep, Merlin!”
“Do you not know the stories they tell about Justinian’s wife, the Most Christian Empress Theodora?”
“No, I suppose I don’t. What about her?”
“She came from lowly origins. She was a slave. And she used to perform in the arena.” Merlin gazed directly at him. “Doing things with wild beasts. Donkeys, oxen, sheep. Even apes and worse.”
“But that was in the past, before Justinian fell in love with her and elevated her to the throne.”
“Nevertheless. The Byzantines were Christians even then. The fact that they would countenance that kind of entertainment, much less revere a woman who took part in it…” He shrugged, then peered at Peter. “You are not a Christian, are you?”
“No, of course not. But-”
“There are more ways to be human than Gildas’s world-view could ever permit.”
“I know that, Merlin. But-”
“We must never be too hasty to condemn other people for their humanity. Your energy would be better channeled into finding Lord Darrowfield’s killer.”
“Was the killer not ‘being human,’ too?”
“He-or she-took a life. No society can countenance such a thing.”
“Of course not, Merlin. But if you know how much like Gildas you sound-”