“Why didn’t you?”
“Britomart wanted to send a military escort with us, ‘for security.’ It was difficult enough to talk the two of them out of that. A carriage would have made us much too obvious a target for unwanted attention. Or for thieves.”
Nimue sounded doubtful. “We’re fairly conspicuous on horseback. But I’m glad you talked them out of that carriage. This weather is too lovely to ride inside.”
Petronus added, “England is mostly peaceful. Why would we need security?”
“I am afraid you will have to ask Britomart about that. She seems to see threats and menace everywhere.”
“It’s her job, Merlin.”
“I suppose so. I wish she would take some time off now and then, that is all. The soldiers of the Dover garrison will almost certainly keep track of us and report our doings to her. We will have to remain on our best behavior every moment. Government. I am not at all certain this will be much of a holiday.”
“Do we have to stay at the garrison?”
“I hope not. But even so…” He made a show of scanning the landscape. “And that is not to mention this visit to Lord Darrowfield. His father did not die for long decades, even though everyone kept expecting him to.”
“Are you saying this one may go soon, to make up for it?” Nimue was wry.
“We are entitled to some good luck sometime, are we not?”
“Don’t be morbid, Merlin.”
“Besides,” Petronus added, “might the king not then send you as his envoy to the funeral? We’d get another trip.” He grinned. “In a carriage.”
“Keep your attention on the road, Petronus, and be quiet.”
Merlin, Nimue and Petronus were accompanied by a pair of armed soldiers. This was at Britomart’s insistence. It was only with difficulty Merlin had talked her out of a full military escort.
“You are important agents of the state,” she had claimed. “You must be protected.”
“So crucial to the national good that Arthur is sending us to Darrowfield to congratulate a new minor lord on his new minor lordship. How could England go on without us?”
“Don’t be difficult, Merlin. I want to send a full squad, but Arthur knew how you’d bristle at that. Be grateful I’m in an accommodating mood.”
“Fine, Brit. We are grateful. Does that make you happy?”
“There are times I wish you weren’t quite so clever, do you know that?”
He was mordant. “You prefer that ‘important agents of the state’ be dull-witted?”
“Go to Dover.” She turned her back and stomped away.
Happily the soldiers rode unobtrusively behind them. Petronus tried a few times to engage them in conversation, but they seemed as unhappy to be on this journey as Merlin was to have them.
The morning was cool but the sun promised warmth as well as brilliant light. Trees were just beginning to take on their autumn colors. Late wildflowers bloomed everywhere, it seemed; some even grew in the highway itself. Wayfarers on the road all seemed happy and content. Nimue leaned close to Petronus and whispered, “We couldn’t have better weather for this trip. But don’t say so to Merlin. He’d only take it as a challenge and try to find some reason why we’d be better off back at Camelot.”
An hour after they set out a huge black cloud drifted across the face of the sun, plunging the world into a brief twilight. Petronus said it must be a bad omen for their journey.
“A bad omen?” Nimue scolded him. “Haven’t you learned anything at all from Merlin? There is no such thing as an omen. If there are any gods, they are much too kind to grant us a glimpse of what our futures hold.”
Merlin had been riding in silence, apparently lost in thought. Now he spoke up. “Too kind, or much too cruel. That would be much more in character for such gods as may exist.”
Petronus found this thought chilling. “You always paint everything in the darkest tones possible.”
“I have lived a long life in the company of other human beings. The more I see, the darker the world looks to me. Never mind the dark clouds that sometimes hide the sun. It is the dark clouds inside ourselves that should concern you. They are the one great constant in human affairs.”
The boy found this line of talk disquieting and decided not to pursue it any further. “I have never been to Darrowfield. To be honest, I haven’t even heard of it. Where is it?”
Merlin glanced at Nimue; he wanted no more talking, and he immediately fell back into his pensive silence. It fell to Nimue to play instructor to Petronus. “You know of Salisbury, don’t you? In Wiltshire?”
“Yes, of course. I passed through there once, with Lancelot, and I have always wanted to go back. It was on a morning much like this one. I was only a boy then.” He glanced at her nervously, but she refrained from any sarcasm. “We could see Stonehenge in the distance on Salisbury Plain. I would love to go again and see it close-to.”
“Well, you may have the chance. Darrowfield adjoins Salisbury. But I’m afraid you might find that Stonehenge does not live up to your expectations. It is much smaller than it seems from a distance. Up close, it always disappoints.”
“Even so, I would like to see it. Merlin, may we go there to see the monument?”
Merlin roused himself from his daydreams. “Darrowfield Castle is a forbidding sort of place in its own right. You may find it sufficient.”
“Even so. I-”
“We will have to stay at Darrowfield long enough for protocol. After that… I suppose we will have to see. Will the two of you mind the detour to Darrowfield?”
“We’ll be fine, Merlin.”
When they had been riding for a time, Petronus broke their silence yet again. “Have you noticed that we are being followed?”
“Followed?” Merlin roused himself. “Tell the soldiers, quickly.”
Petronus laughed. “Our pursuer is not likely to do much harm. Look.”
He pointed upward and to their left. Above a stand of trees, a black bird circled. “It is one of your ravens, Merlin. It has been following us since we left Camelot.”
They slowed their pace. Merlin shaded his eyes, then cupped his hands and shouted, “Roc!”
The bird circled the trees once more, then flapped directly toward the party of travelers. When it reached them, it perched on Merlin’s shoulder and squawked shrilly. Merlin stroked its head and cooed, “Good boy, Roc. But you should not be here. Go home, now.”
The bird cocked its head and stared at him, clearly puzzled.
“Go home, I said. Go back to Camelot.”
And Roc lifted into the air and flew swiftly back the way they had come. In only a moment he was out of sight.
Nimue had watched it all without saying a word. Now she spoke up. “Do you really wonder why people think you’re a wizard? Only a man with otherworldly powers could do that.”
“Nonsense. Ravens are intelligent birds. It is merely a matter of learning to channel that intelligence in a desirable way.”
“Ravens are scavengers.” Petronus could not manage to keep an unpleasant tone out of his voice. “They eat the dead.”
“They keep the world clean, Petronus. Much as I do, or as I try to. I never knew that you find my pets objectionable.”
“I have never liked birds. They are cold, inhuman creatures.”
“The fact they are so alien, so completely unlike us, is what draws me to them. You will never see a bird commit murder.”
“Birds of prey kill all the time.”
“Yes, but they kill for food. Out of necessity, not greed or jealousy, not ambition, not any of the thousand other petty motives that drive our kind to do mad things.”
“You should get a dog or a cat.”
“And put my ravens at risk? Never.”
As they rode onward, Petronus let his horse lag slightly behind, midway between Merlin and the soldiers. At one point Nimue reined her horse beside his. “Is anything wrong?”
“No. It’s just that sometimes Merlin frightens me. Sometimes he does not seem quite human.”
She glanced forward at their master. “Or more than human, maybe?”
“Do you think he really is a sorcerer?”
“Of course not. Don’t be foolish. If you go spreading word about what happened with Roc, and if you tell it so as to make it seem magical, he will be angry.”
“I wish I had stayed in France. I wish my family had wanted me.”
To Petronus’s surprise, Merlin had heard this. He looked back, over his shoulder, and said in soft, reassuring tones, “Birds never abandon their young. And neither will I.”
There was no more talk for a long time. When eventually they passed by Salisbury Plain and saw Stonehenge lit by the late-afternoon sun, no one said much.
The monoliths showed golden in the dying sunlight and cast long shadows. Petronus asked if they might stop and inspect the monument, but Merlin wanted to press on. “Two weeks from today will be the autumn equinox. Strict adherents of the old religion will be here in numbers to celebrate. Arthur’s sister Morgan le Fay will be here, too, most likely, to officiate. We should be returning from Dover about that time, and we may stop here then. It is always quite a spectacle. This fair at Dover which you are so anxious to see will seem like nothing.”
“But, sir-”
“Not tonight, Petronus, please. My back is aching terribly from this horse. I want to reach the castle and get some rest.”
Glumly Petronus rode along. There was very little talk. Nimue whispered to Petronus that she was disappointed, too. “But Merlin never fails us in the end, does he?”
It was just after sunset when Darrowfield Castle came into sight. It rose up out of the ground, a massive square tower of black stone. It looked ancient, and Petronus said so. Merlin explained that it had been built less than two generations previously. “By one of those dull, literal-minded warlords England is ridden with,” he added. “He was made a lord by Arthur’s father, Uther, and he immediately went about demonstrating his new magnificence to the countryside.” As they approached, they could see candles or torches being lit in a few of the windows.
“What is this new Lord Darrowfield like?” Nimue asked. “I don’t believe I’ve met him.”
“Even duller than his father was.” Merlin did not try to disguise the fact that he was not happy to be there. “A hapless warrior, an inept scholar, a tone-deaf politician… a British lord, in fact.” He smirked. “I would not like to guess how delighted he must be at his father’s death. The old man survived wounds and illnesses that should have put him in his grave years ago. He showed signs of living forever. Now he is out of his son’s hair.”
“They never stop, do they?” Nimue narrowed her eyes. “All the intrigues, plots, secret grudges nursed for years… Remember last year when the Duke of Gloucester tried to kill the Duke of Cambridge over a drinking cup? All these supposed noblemen should try living like ordinary people for a change, and scrambling for their livelihoods.” She paused. “How long are you planning to stay here?”
“The sooner we can get away, the happier I will be. I have not much been looking forward to this festival at Dover. But now that we are here, Dover has become a paradise in my imagination. I cannot wait till we leave for there.”
They reached a line of guards a half mile or so from the castle. Merlin presented letters from Arthur by way of identification. But none of the sentries could read. One of them rode off to the castle for instructions.
