“And you let her manipulate you into doing her murders for her. It was you who attacked Arthur at Grosfalcon, not her.”
Peter nodded. “But she was concerned. After I killed Darrowfield and those two clots he called sons, she and Uther persuaded me to use, let us say, less direct methods. The plague was a gift to us. She had her own strain of belladonna. And she mixed it with some other poison from her stockpile. It made the deaths look like plague casualties.”
“Even where there was no plague. That was the other thing that made me suspicious. But then, why not simply poison that poor boy at the mill? Why crush him between the millstones?”
Peter shrugged. “He caught me as I was administering the belladonna to Accolon. What else could I do?”
“You are a fool, Peter. You cannot possibly think Morgan would have let you rule. She is ambitious for herself and for her son.”
“No. She is my sister.”
“Arthur is your brother. Did that stop you from plotting his death? Morgan wants herself on the throne, or her son Mordred, not you.”
Peter hesitated. This was obviously something he had not thought of before.
There was someone else on the landing, moving in the shadows behind him. Merlin realized it must be Nimue. He had to keep Peter talking. “So the three of you met in Darrowfield’s own castle to plot his death. Yes, that sounds callous enough for Morgan, all right.”
“The four of us. Darrowfield was a fool. He was in on our scheme from the beginning. But it never occurred to him that he might be our first victim. Why do you think he let me get close enough to kill him at Stonehenge?”
“This has gone on long enough, Peter. You cannot keep me dangling here forever. Let me finish my ascent. Surrender.”
Peter laughed at him.
“There is no use going on with this, Peter. Do you think I have kept my suspicions to myself? My assistant Colin knows. I had to explain to him when I sent him to Darrowfield. I wanted him on his guard against you.” He told the lie smoothly. Then he raised his voice slightly. “I did not want him to grapple with you. You are the larger man. He would not have had a chance against you.”
“I can keep you dangling there till I get another pike to prod you off of that absurd seat of yours. I have one waiting here for just that purpose.” He twisted the point of the pike farther into the gears, and the seat began rocking again.
“And Arthur knows as well,” he lied. “You will be hunted down, arrested and put to death.”
“Then I will join you in Hades.”
Suddenly Nimue stepped into sight. She was carrying a pike, the second one Peter had brought with him. She prodded Peter with the tip. “I would suggest you surrender now and peacefully.”
Startled, Peter went off balance and staggered to the edge of the platform. He reached out and grasped the end of the pike to steady himself. But Nimue was not about to let him regain his equilibrium. She let the pike go. Peter lost his balance and tumbled off the platform and fell down the hundred feet of the tower. His screams echoed. He hit the floor with a horrible sound.
Nimue stepped onto the platform and pulled the first pike loose from the gears. For a moment nothing happened. Then slowly the lift continued its ascent. When it reached the top she helped Merlin onto the platform. Grateful to be on something solid again, he put an arm around her. “Thank you, Colin. You are a good man.”
The season’s first heavy, sustained snow fell on the English countryside. Trees were airy white lace. Flakes danced in the air.
It was just after sunset, now and then the clouds parted and there was a large moon. Arthur and Merlin strolled side by side on the castle rooftop. The snow was three inches deep but neither of them seemed to mind. Except for the falling snow the world was still, and they walked in silence as if infected by it. At length they came to the rear of the castle and stood looking over the white landscape. In the distance was Camelot’s graveyard. Headstones were capped with snow.
At length Arthur spoke. “I hope Fedora is resting peacefully.”
Merlin kept his eyes on the cemetery, not the king. “There is no other way for mortal remains to rest.”
“Always the romantic, aren’t you? I wish just once you’d let your human side show.”
Merlin paused, uncertain whether to go on. “Self-revelation never comes to me easily, Arthur. You know that. When I found that poor boy crushed to death between the millstones, my feelings were human enough. But it was also human feeling that led me to trust his killer.” He turned to the king. “I was a fool to let my feeling of friendship for him cloud my judgment. He flattered me only too successfully.”
“As always, you are too hard on yourself.”
“I have never apologized for the harsh tone I took with you when we were Marmaduke’s prisoners.”
“We thought we were going to die, Merlin. No apology is necessary.”
“I think one is due. I like to think of myself as a philosopher. At least a minor one. Prepared for death. I acted like a spoiled boy.”
This made Arthur uncomfortable. A snowflake clung to his eyelash and he brushed it off. “We will never know what other secrets Fedora took with her to the grave. I suppose, in a way, we should be grateful for that.”
“Secrets are the essence of humanity, Arthur. Or at any rate of human society, human interaction. What is hidden is what keeps us going.”
“That seems an odd sentiment for a detective.”
“It is the truth. To know, to actually know another human being is impossible, for all that we pretend otherwise. For all you know, I might be planning your assassination right now.”
Arthur laughed. “As always, you are being overdramatic. I have known you since I was a boy, Merlin. Why would you wait till this moment to use the knife in the dark?”
“Ripeness is all, Arthur.” He ran his fingers through the snow on a battlement. “When Peter told me his messages to me were being interfered with, I had no reason to doubt him. Now I understand the lie.
“When he showed up here unbidden, just before John died, I should have realized. He was there when every murder was committed.”
Arthur stared up at the moon. “Are you ready for the trial of Lulua and Marmaduke?”
He nodded. “We have already selected twelve knights to form the jury. I do not think making the case against them will be difficult. There were dozens of witnesses.”
The king kept his eyes on the moon. Merlin had the impression he was trying to read something in its face. Finally he said, “That is all good, Merlin. But…”
“Yes?”
“What do we do about my sister?”
Merlin heaved a deep sigh. “I am not certain there is anything we can do. If we find her and arrest her, we could never put her on trial. The only concrete evidence against her is Peter’s confession, and Peter is… Our England is concerned with justice. We cannot expect a jury to convict her on no evidence.”
“So she remains at large, remains free to keep plotting against me.” He looked directly into Merlin’s eyes. “Against us.”
“I fear so. The best we can do is to watch her very carefully.”
Arthur looked from Merlin back to the moon. “It is too much for me. I need to have some wine and go to bed.”
Softly, “Good night, then, Arthur. Sleep well.”
“Aren’t you coming in? The wind is starting to pick up.”
“No. I need to be alone with my thoughts for a while.”
The king left. Merlin stood alone on the rooftop. The wind gusted, and clouds filled the sky.
The raven Roc flew to Merlin’s shoulder and nuzzled his ear. He reached up and stroked it. He whispered, “Roc, there is nothing human about you. There is not the least trace of my species.” Lightly he kissed the bird’s head. “That is why I love you.”
