George’s cries had wakened the other patients, all but Accolon, who was still seemingly asleep. Merlin took a few steps toward them and had to steady himself against a table. From behind him, from George’s side, Peter said, “This boy is dead.”
Merlin closed his eyes. It was as if he was still dreaming, still in that nameless, featureless place ruled by monsters. Still feeling off balance, he gripped the edge of a table and told Peter, “Leave him there, then, and check the others.”
Peter took his lamp to the patients and inspected them one by one. The pupils of their eyes were dilated, and they said they were feeling vertigo. But they seemed to be all right otherwise, wounds still healing, no new complaints.
“My head is spinning also.” Merlin tried to take a few more steps but had to stop and steady himself once more.
Peter moved to the side of the pallet where Accolon lay. After a quick examination he turned to Merlin. “This man was another of the king’s sons?”
Merlin nodded. “So it has always been whispered.”
“Merlin, he is dead.”
Merlin put a hand on the wall to steady himself. He closed his eyes. “No. That cannot be.”
“Come see for yourself.”
He took a step toward Peter. The room spun around him and he fell to the floor. Peter rushed to his side. “Are you all right?”
Groggily he replied, “Yes.”
“No bones broken?”
“No.”
“No other damage?”
“Peter, just help me to my feet, will you? If the room would stop whirling about me, I would be perfectly fine.”
Peter helped him up. Merlin leaned on him quite heavily. “Let me get you back to your bed, Merlin. You need more rest.”
“With all this death around me? You think I could sleep?”
“You are unsteady. It shows. Just exactly how much did you drink last night?”
“This is
Slowly they made their way to the dead knight’s side. Merlin bent down and examined the body, and it was like the corpses of all the other plague victims.
“Are you satisfied?” Peter took his arm to help him up again. “It is the plague that took him.”
“And was it the plague the killed young George, there? In the name of all that is human, Peter, cover up his body. It is quite indecent to leave him like that.”
After he had Merlin securely back at his own pallet, Peter found a large drop cloth and covered George’s mangled corpse with it. When he returned to Merlin’s side he said, “The boy was drinking last night, like all of us. He must have stumbled and fallen between the stones. A terrible accident, but an accident nonetheless.”
Merlin gaped at him. “I heard him cry out, Peter. He was begging for help. I thought it was a dream.” He glanced at the cloth covering the boy. “Someone did this to him. It was no accident.”
“Of course it was. A boy that age, drinking wine. He could never have handled it.”
Again Merlin closed his eyes. “I cannot seem to wake up.”
“Sleep, then, Merlin. I’ll see to it that the bodies are disposed of properly.”
Groggily Merlin told him, “We have been drugged. All of us in this room. That wine last night…”
“Nonsense. You’ve just let these events overwhelm you, that’s all. Get some sleep. Have you been outside yet?”
“Of course not.” He yawned.
“It’s snowing. The world has turned magically white overnight.”
Merlin’s drowsiness overcame him completely. Again he fell into sleep.
And woke to Peter shaking him. “Merlin, get up. The king is here.”
Slowly he opened his eyes. An enormous yawn overtook him. “What did you say?”
“King Arthur is approaching. With a band of knights.”
Another yawn. “Where is Geo-Never mind. My head is aching quite ferociously.”
“So is mine. So is everyone’s.”
“Our surviving patients, too?”
Peter nodded.
For a moment Merlin fell silent, obviously lost in thought. Then he looked at Peter, filled with sudden resolve. “Help me to my feet. We must go and greet the king.”
“Do you want to check on the other wounded men?”
“Later. They are all doing well enough.” He clasped his hands to his head and glanced at his patients. They were all asleep. “I hope their heads are not ringing the way mine is. Sleep is merciful.” For a third time he yawned, much more widely than before. “The world would be a much finer place if we would all sleep all the time. There would be no crimes then.”
Peter placed a hand under his arm to steady him. “Except the ones in our dreams.”
Merlin looked at him as if the statement startled him. “Yes, there are always those. Come. Arthur will be expecting us to meet him.”
There was very little activity in the mill. A fire roared in the main hearth, and its flames made almost the only motion. Word of the night’s events had spread. The two deaths seemed to cast a pall over everything and everyone.
From the kitchen came aromas of cooking food. Merlin started to react without thinking. “That smells quite wonderful. There is nothing like fresh-baked bread in the morning. Arthur will be pleased. He will want to thank young Geo-” He caught himself. “He will want to thank whoever is doing the baking.”
Outside the world had indeed turned white and the temperature had grown bitterly cold. Snow was falling heavily. Three inches of it covered everything. Trees were lacy white marvels. A strong, steady wind blew; snowflakes danced in it. Patches of ice were forming on the surface of the stream.
Softly, at the bottom of his breath, Merlin muttered, “Winter. And there are people who believe in benevolent gods.”
The king’s party could be seen in the middle distance through the falling snow. They were riding slowly, wrapped in heavy, dull-colored cloaks. Under his, Arthur wore his ceremonial armor, and it gleamed in the white landscape.
“It is too cold, Peter. This wind-Run inside and fetch me a cloak.”
Peter vanished into the mill. Two of the servants emerged and placed themselves just behind Merlin, in case he should need anything else. He leaned on their arms to steady himself.
Arthur’s band arrived. Bedivere and Sagramore were among his companions. The king jumped heartily down from his horse. “Merlin! I trust everything is well here. How are you? More to the point, how are my knights?”
“Things are not well, Arthur.”
Peter emerged from the mill with a cloak and placed it around Merlin’s shoulders. A sudden, particularly fierce gust of wind blew up, and he pulled the cloak tight around himself. “In the name of all that is human, Arthur, let us go inside before we freeze to death.”
Inside, servants were busily placing more logs on the fires in all the rooms. Merlin, the king and his men arranged themselves around the main fireplace and warmed themselves eagerly. Merlin asked a servant to bring wine. “Not the remnants of the wine from last night. Open new bottles.”
Then he turned to Arthur. “Somewhere in this mill is my valet, Robert. You must send men to find him and arrest him.”
“Good heavens, Merlin, why?”
Merlin told him about the night’s events and the deaths of George and Accolon. “The boy died a horrible death. But none of us could help him. We were all quite insensible. Robert gave us wine laced with some narcotic.”
Two knights got to their feet and made ready to leave.
Merlin told them, “If he is not in the mill, then he has run away. That would not surprise me. You will see his footprints in the snow. Find him if you can.”
He turned to Arthur. “You must send him back to Camelot under heavy guard. And send word to Simon to have his mother and brother arrested as well.”
Bedivere sipped his wine. “Camelot’s jailors will have a busy winter.”
Merlin ignored this. “His mother is one of your cooks, Arthur. She has access to the castle’s herb garden. I can only imagine what she must be growing there. Something to make us sleep. And something that can simulate symptoms of the plague.” A thought struck him. “Belladonna, perhaps.”
“But-but your valet?” Arthur was having trouble digesting it all.
Merlin took a large cup of wine. “Perhaps this will clear my head. My ears are ringing. Robert gave us all drugged wine last night.”
“He tried to kill all of you? Why, for goodness’ sake?”
“At the very least, he wanted to render us unconscious. As to motive, at this point I can only speculate.” He glared at Arthur accusingly. “Perhaps you know better than I could.”
Arthur squirmed. “Enough of that.”
Bedivere, too, seemed to be having trouble understanding. “But-but-a pastry cook and two serving boys. Why would they-?”
“As I said,” Merlin told him, “I can only speculate as to what motivated them. I will know more when I have had the chance to interrogate them. But they have been present so often when death has occurred. Even at Darrowfield Castle. You sent them there, remember, Arthur? The murders at Stonehenge would have been most difficult for one man alone to have committed. One killer, three victims. Most improbable. But three killers, or even merely two, if the boys did it without their mother’s assistance…”
“But-but-why would they have killed Darrowfield and his sons? What possible reason could they have?”
Calmly Merlin pronounced, “We shall know that soon enough.”
A moment later the two knights reappeared, dragging Robert between them. His face showed fear and confusion, and he was struggling, but the knights were much too strong for him.
“No!” he cried. “Why are you doing this?”
The knights ignored his cries and pulled him toward the king and Merlin.
“Merlin, help me!” Robert pled. “Why have they taken me? I haven’t done anything.”
When they reached Merlin and the king, the two of them exchanged glances. Then Merlin turned to the boy. “You know perfectly well.”
“No!”
“What was in the wine you gave us last night?”
“Nothing.” The bewilderment in Robert’s face was plain to see. “Nothing. I swear it.”
Merlin looked to the king again and nodded. Arthur said to the knights, “Get two more knights from our main column. Take him back to Camelot. Guard him carefully. We will want to question him more thoroughly when we get back.”
