Mordred and Morgan stayed near the farthest wall from the stage. It was clear they saw themselves apart from the rest. Or at any rate Morgan saw herself that way and Mordred went along. She was not a mother to upset.
And Mark, also drunk, kept lurching through the audience, muttering to one person or group after another. Wrapped up in the play, they shushed him. The expression on his face was not happy.
Britomart joined Merlin and Nimue.
“Have you seen anything, Brit?”
“Yes, a boy pretending to be a sad woman.”
“You know what I mean-anything suspicious. What is Mark saying?”
“He is complaining about your mystical show. He thinks something dire will happen, and he wants to find a way to stop it.”
“And what did you say to him?”
“I told him to relax, that religious displays of the supernatural are simply more theater.”
“Cynic.”
“That is exactly what he said.”
“I haven’t seen Petronus,” Brit commented.
“He is making himself scarce,” Merlin told her. “The last thing he wants is an encounter with Lancelot. He will be here when he’s needed.”
“Needed?”
“He is practicing with the lenses for tonight.”
“Lenses? Merlin, this sounds sillier and more desperate the more I learn about it.”
When finally the play concluded, the audience applauded and cheered wildly. Samuel took center stage for a bow, but the crowd wanted young Watson. Glumly, grudgingly, Samuel let the boy take the glory.
Meanwhile, Merlin moved through the audience in the direction of the offstage space where the actors were. His turn in the limelight would be next.
When the applause for the boy finally died down, Arthur took the stage again and thanked the company for their splendid performance. “What we saw tonight redounded to the glory of England, the fairest country on the face of the earth.” He went on at length about the flower of England and the coming period of prestige and leadership on the stage of Europe.
Offstage, two of the young men in Samuel’s company helped Merlin into a sorcerer’s robe, embroidered with stars and mystical symbols, and a conical wizard’s hat. Samuel watched, beaming; if things went well, his company would soon have a patron at court. To one of his dressers, Merlin whispered, “It is terribly lucky you have this costume.”
“We use it in one of our comedies, sir.”
“Oh. Well, let us hope tonight’s events do not play that way.”
Onstage, Arthur concluded his speech by talking about the Stone of Bran and the might and the glory it would soon bring to “our fair island.” He acknowledged Percival, who was in the audience, and gave him full credit for finding the sacred relic. Then he intoned, “It is time for us to witness its power.”
The musicians struck up a somber march, a nearly hymnlike melody. Almost involuntarily the crowd parted and Greffys entered, accompanied by a dozen of Arthur’s most trusted guards; Arthur was taking no chances with the safety of his squire this time. On a red velvet cushion embroidered with gold, Greffys carried the Stone of Bran before him. Their little procession made a circuit of the hall, permitting everyone to see the stone close-to. Then they advanced to the foot of the stage.
During this, Petronus had entered the hall and made his way unobtrusively to the side of the stage. As Greffys and the guards climbed to the platform, Petronus produced a pair of large lenses Merlin and Samuel had given him. He held them carefully before two of the torches, and the lenses focused their light and directed it to the stone. Suddenly, it seemed to everyone watching, the Stone of Bran began to glow brightly, almost ethereally. As Greffys moved across the stage to Arthur, Petronus changed the angle of the lenses so that the light followed and the crystal skull seemed to burn with a supernatural light.
When Greffys was beside him, Arthur took the stone in the fingertips of both hands and held it aloft. “Behold the Stone of Bran, the gift of the gods!” The crowd gasped and applauded vigorously.
Then Merlin, in his magician’s robes, slowly, solemnly mounted the platform and crossed to Arthur. He made a slight bow, first to the king then to the skull. Then he turned and faced the audience. “Let the wonders begin,” he intoned, and the audience fell into a hushed silence.
Petronus adjusted his lenses so that the beams shone on both Merlin and on the stone. Merlin made a slow, deliberate, majestic bow to the audience. Then, with equally deliberate slowness, he removed his pointed hat. With a flourish he showed it to the audience so that they could see that it was empty. Then he took the stone and touched it to the hat, held the hat in one hand and from it produced a live rabbit. The animal struggled to escape his grip. He let it drop to the stage and it scampered away, frightened and confused. It ran, improbably, in the direction where Morgan and Mordred were standing. Mordred caught it and handed it to his mother, who cradled it in her arms till it calmed down.
In the wings, Samuel beamed. Merlin had worked the trick he’d taught him perfectly. Someone in the audience shouted, “That’s it, Merlin? That is the great wonder we’ve been promised?”
Instead of answering, Merlin raised a finger to his lips and gestured to the door nearest the stage.
A young woman with blond hair, wearing a low-cut snow-white gown, entered the hall, eyes lowered, and walked to the stage. Behind her came Greffys, carrying a large saw. Finally, the two gravediggers entered, carrying a large wooden coffin. This was all so unexpected, the crowd fell silent again.
The girl in white climbed to the stage, followed by the others. The gravediggers let their coffin rest on two wooden trestles and made a quick exit. Merlin assisted the woman into the coffin, where she lay down, and he closed the lid.
In the audience, Mark gaped at her. Was she the same woman who’d come to him that night at his own castle? Could Merlin have been behind her presence there, then? Drunk almost to a stupor, he tried to think clearly and make sense of it, but it was no use.
From a corner of his eye, Merlin watched Mark. The show seemed to be having the desired effect on him. Once again he took the Stone of Bran and with a flourish passed it over the coffin three times; then another three times he tapped the lid with it. And he took the saw and began to cut it in half, and the woman with it. People in the crowd gasped; Mark gaped.
When the coffin was cut clear through, Merlin and Greffys moved the two halves apart, then slid them back together again. Waving the stone above it one more time, he opened the lid, and out stepped the young woman in white. The audience cheered and applauded. Mark blinked and tried to focus, uncertain whether to believe what he was seeing.
Morgan, standing at the back of the audience, was bored. She leaned against the wall and yawned. She handed the rabbit to her son and whispered something to him; he also yawned.
On his throne at the side of the stage Arthur watched alternately his minister/magician and the audience, and he smiled serenely, pleased that Merlin’s worst expectations had not come to pass. No one was reacting adversely to the show; the killer was not a member of his court.
But there was something else happening in the audience; and Merlin was so focused on Mark he didn’t notice. Lancelot slowly, gradually began to shake off his alcoholic haze. And as his senses returned, or began to, he glared at the boy holding the lenses. It was his former squire, the one who’d deserted him without permission, without even saying a word.
Unsteadily, he got to his feet, pushed the people around him away and drew his sword. “Traitor!” he bellowed. “Turncoat!” And he began to lunge at Petronus through the crowd. “I’ll kill you! You’ll join the other two in the underworld! ” The boy, terrified, dropped his lenses to the stage and scrambled underneath the platform. Nimue left the stage quickly and joined the actors in their waiting area.
Guenevere shouted in alarm, “Stop! Lancelot, stop this!”
Half a dozen knights caught hold of Lancelot and restrained him. But he fought them, shouting at the boy, strugglingagainst their hold and still trying to brandish his sword. Finally, one of them wrenched it free of his grasp and it clattered loudly onto the stone floor.
Arthur stood. “Hold that man! Do not let him go!”
At the rear of the hall Morgan stirred for the first time. She stood erect, watching what was happening, and she smiled slightly and whispered something to Mordred.
Finally, Lancelot seemed to lose energy. He became quiet and permitted the knights to place him in his chair once again. Guenevere placed a hand on his arm and murmured something to him, and it quieted him even more.
From the stage Arthur said, “You six-place him in his seat and see that he stays there. Keep him there forcibly if you must. Let us hope this was the final outburst. This is a solemn occasion. I will not have it disrupted. All of you, be calm. Remember the dignity of our court.” And he resumed his throne.
Merlin had watched all of this carefully. That it was Lancelot not Mark who had exploded surprised him. But despite the mention of “the other two,” Lancelot’s anger was at the squire who’d left him and seemed unrelated to the murders. But the evening’s signal event was still to come. Or so he hoped.
Gradually, the crowd quieted. Lancelot sat glumly, showing no sign he would make more commotion. Merlin stepped to the floor, bent to look under the stage and gestured to Petronus to come out. “It is over, Pete. Come out now.”
Warily, the boy did so. When he was out from under, he looked at Lancelot and was somewhat reassured to see him quiet. With Petronus back in place, the performance could resume. Merlin remounted the stage.
“And now,” he announced, “for the greatest wonder of all. You have seen a woman torn in two and restored to life. Now you shall witness something even greater.”
He clapped his hands loudly three times. The musicians struck up a low, sad melody like a funeral march. Two of the young actors in Samuel’s company entered the hall again, this time carrying a pallet between them. On the pallet was what seemed to be a body, over which was stretched a linen shroud or winding-sheet. Petronus focused light on it and made it seem to glow softly. Behind the actors the two gravediggers followed.
Slowly, solemnly, the two actors carried their burden to the stage. Merlin gestured to them to rest it on the trestles; they did so, bowed to him and left.
The air in the hall was tense with anticipation. No one talked or made a sound. Virtually no one moved. All eyes were on Merlin and the shrouded-what?
“I believe you all recognize these two men,” he said to the audience. “They have been the gravediggers at Camelot’s cemetery for years.” The two men, apparently abashed at becoming the center of attention, shifted their weight awkwardly and uneasily.
“Gentlemen,” Merlin addressed them, “you have this day performed an extraordinary task at the behest of King Arthur and myself.”
They lowered their eyes and muttered, “Yes, sir.”
“The king has asked to you perform the reverse of your usual function and to exhume a body which you buried some time ago.”
“Yes.”
“The earth is frozen and this has been difficult work. But you have accomplished it. And you will be properly rewarded. ”
The younger of the two said, “Thank you, sir.”
His companion added, “It was hard work, sir. Every muscle in our bodies is aching.”
“I am certain the king appreciates your labors. But now it is time to explain to the assembled court precisely what your task has been. Could you please say whose body it is that you have been required to exhume?”
No one in the Great Hall moved. People leaned forward to hear more clearly. Lancelot squirmed in his seat. But Merlin kept a careful eye on Mark, who was looking increasingly upset.
On the stage the elder gravedigger shuffled his feet and said, “It was the squire, sir. The king’s late squire.”
“Which one? Could you please tell us which it was?”
