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Merlin looked at Marian. “You are a cook. You know herbs.”

“Yes.”

“Which ones did Lady Darrowfield grow?”

“I can’t remember that. I never really used the herb garden, just the stores of honey they had. They had spices already stored in the kitchen. There was no need.”

“Were there any poisons?”

“I tell you I don’t know.”

“No. Of course not. But Marian, there is something else I must ask you. Something that may be… awkward. I am not certain it is a thing I should ask you with your sons here. Shall I have them taken back to their cells?”

“You’ve only just had them brought here.”

“Even so. I-”

“I do not keep secrets from my boys. Whatever you want to know, you can ask with them here.”

Her manner was more than slightly assertive, and it caught him off guard. After a moment’s pause he went on. “Very well, then. Marian, I must ask you-”

“Yes?”

“Who is the father of your sons?”

The question seemed to surprise her. “The-? Why would you ask such a thing? What can that possibly have to do with-?”

“I need to know. A great deal depends on your answer.” He lowered his voice slightly. “Perhaps even your lives.”

“Our lives!” Wayne jumped to his feet. “Why are you threatening us? You can’t possibly think we’ve done anything.”

Merlin ignored his outburst. “Marian?”

She remained silent.

“I ask you again: Who is the father of these boys?”

Still she said nothing.

Softly he went on. “Come, now, you can tell me.” Even more softly, almost as an afterthought, he asked her, “Is it the king?”

Marian’s eyes widened. “The king? Is that what this is about? Half the court says you’re a fool, Merlin, and they are right.”

More vehemently he repeated his question. “Is it the king?”

Marian was working to calm herself, and it showed. Finally she uttered one word. “No.”

“Then who-?”

“I was young. I was an attractive young woman, though years of working in Camelot’s kitchen have ended that. I had a great many lovers in those days. Knights, squires, courtiers.” She added with force, “But not Arthur. Not the king. Never him.”

Slowly Merlin got to his feet. “Very well, then. If you are telling me the truth-”

“I am!”

“Then that ends this inquiry.”

The three of them were clearly puzzled by this. Robert asked, “Then you will release us?”

“In time. There are still a great many unanswered questions.”

“When?”

“In time, I said. For the moment you will be returned to your cells. I thank you for answering my questions.”

“But you don’t believe us!” Wayne could not contain his anger.

“I have not said so.”

“We nursed this fool back to health.” He pointed at Nimue. “How much clearer could it be that we’re not villains? Let us loose!”

“In time. That is all I can tell you. In time.”

He left the cell, with Nimue just behind him, gave instructions to the guards and headed for the wing of the dungeon that held Lulua and Marmaduke.

The cot in Lulua’s cell was tiny. As they entered, she was lying on it. Or trying to. Parts of her hung over the edge. Seeing Merlin enter, she sat up, with some difficulty.

“Good morning, Lulua. I trust you slept well.” His manner was magisterial. “You are losing weight. Prison food must agree with you.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Wizard.”

“I am not. I am never sarcastic. I was merely expressing friendly concern. This is my assistant Colin. He will be taking notes on our… conversation.”

Lulua snorted, then laughed out loud. “Conversation.”

But Merlin was not about to be distracted. He sat and said to her offhandedly, “I would like to know what instructions you had from Morgan le Fay pertaining to Arthur and myself.”

Serenely she closed her eyes and said, “None.”

“So your treason was entirely your own.” He smiled. “You were not acting on orders from a superior.”

“I am a priestess. I have no superiors.”

“Interesting viewpoint. But clinging to that argument will hardly benefit you in your trial.”

Lulua struggled to her feet and began pacing. “Try me. Go ahead. What I did I did for England. That is hardly treason.”

“A jury of twelve men may think otherwise.” He turned to Nimue. “Note that she insists she was acting on her own.” Then he looked back to Lulua. “And I suppose Marmaduke was likewise acting solely on his own initiative?”

“Ask him.”

“I intend to, believe me.”

Heavily she sat down again. “Arthur Pendragon seized England by force of arms. His kingship is an outrage to every principle of justice.”

“It is refreshing to hear you speak with such candor. But you must realize that you are not doing yourself any good. That amounts to an admission of treason. English justice-”

Lulua laughed. “Justice? From an ambitious warlord like Arthur? Why don’t you go away and prepare for my execution? I am prepared for the goddess to take me to her bosom.”

“Of course you are.” Merlin nodded to Nimue and they both got to their feet. “As you wish, Lulua. If you decide that you would like to tell me something that might mitigate your offence, have the guards summon me.” He stepped toward the cell door. “Oh-one more thing.”

“What?”

“Why did you keep drugged wine at your mill?”

She laughed. The cot creaked under her. “Are you serious? Why would I do that?”

“Drugged with narcotics from your herb garden.”

“You think I grew belladonna to use on myself?”

“Belladonna.” The clouds in his mind seemed to part.

He froze for an instant.

Nimue asked him what was wrong.

“Nothing.” He recovered himself quickly and smiled a wide smile at her. “What other poisons did you grow, Lulua?”

“Go away. I want to sleep. And have the guards bring me some food.”

“You can eat in your sleep?”

“Go away, Wizard.”

Outside the cell, Merlin paused for a moment, evidently lost in thought.

Nimue asked if anything was wrong.

“No, of course not. But she grew belladonna. In the name of everything human, I wonder if-”

“Belladonna is a poison, Merlin. Why would anyone grow it?”

He shrugged. “Morgan does, I suspect. Are you certain you’ve recovered from your illness?”

The change of topic left her reeling for a moment. “My-Yes, of course. But why do you ask?”

“If you are quite over your ailment-”

“Yes?” She was suspicious. What could be on his mind?

“If you are quite recovered, I will want you to go on a little mission for me.”

“A mission.” She was deadpan.

“Yes. To Darrowfield.”

“To-! Merlin, this doesn’t make any sense. Are we investigating treason, or-?”

“I want you to inspect Lady Darrowfield’s herb garden. I need to know whether she is growing belladonna, like Lulua.”

“Belladonna?” Nimue leaned casually against the wall, grinning. “I thought we were investigating treason, trying to get to the bottom of it. What has belladonna-?”

“Belladonna, as you said, is a poison.” He smiled like a fox.

“I’m quite aware of that, Merlin. But-”

“The symptoms of belladonna poisoning are quite similar to the symptoms of the plague.”

“Oh.” It was almost a whisper. “Oh.” Then the surprise wore off. “But there really is a plague. Or has been. We’re all so grateful it’s ending with the cold weather. But-”

“Let us go and interview Marmaduke.”

“Merlin, will you please tell me what you have on your mind? Are you suggesting that the plague deaths were…? I don’t even know what to ask you. Please, tell me what you’re thinking.”

His smile had not diminished. “The thought is only half formed. I could not articulate it in a coherent manner. Not yet. But I have had a suspicion all along that all the awful things that were happening were somehow related. The murders at Stonehenge. The deaths of John, Bruce and Accolon, and poor George…”