armor. A handful of squires and servants, already half undressed, were romping with the locals, kissing, fondling…
Bishop Gildas shouted an order to them to stop. They ignored him. He rushed to Arthur’s side. “Arthur, sire, we must put a stop to this rampant immorality.”
Arthur was equally concerned at the breakdown in discipline but amused at Gildas’s intensity. “How, would you suggest?”
“Order them to stop, that is how.”
“Gildas, you are a man of the world. You’re an Italian, for that matter. Surely you must realize that no order known to mankind can stop hormones from flowing.” He looked back along the line of men. “And frankly, I’d say they aren’t simply flowing but beginning to gush.”
Gildas frowned. “But this kind of carnal lust-”
“I’ll see what I can do, all right?”
The bishop, mollified but sullen, went back to his place.
Arthur conferred quickly with Bedivere and Merlin. “I hate to admit it, but Gildas is right. We can’t permit this.”
“They are knights, yes, Arthur, but they are men, too.” Bedivere was eyeing a red-haired young man wistfully.
“I would suggest,” Merlin offered, “that we simply move on. Quickly, before this takes hold of more of our men. It will be hard enough to stop it now. If we let it get further out of hand…”
Arthur sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right. Bed, give the order to form up. We’ll move out at once. It does seem a pity to waste all these willing young women, though.”
“The young men seem equally willing. Not to mention the old ones.” Bedivere was getting caught up in the carnal atmosphere. “Look at that trio over there.” He pointed. “Not one of them can be under sixty.”
The trinity of merrymakers disappeared behind a cottage. Merlin scowled at the place where they’d been. “At their age.”
“There are times,” Arthur goaded, “when you sound more like Bishop Gildas than either of you would like to admit.”
“Do not be rude, Arthur. Let us get moving and complete our mission as quickly as we can, so we can get back to Camelot. We have a ‘sacred relic’ to bury, remember? Or is it a blasphemous pagan idol?”
Arthur scowled. “Look at what the plague is doing. And it hasn’t even struck here yet. We have to do what we can to stop it. Come on, Bed, let’s get the men back in order and move on.”
And so with some difficulty Bedivere got everyone back into the column. There was grumbling. Many of the men considered him a spoilsport anyway; this only confirmed that opinion. But Bedivere pointed to Arthur in his gleaming battle armor to remind them of their duty. And the column moved on.
Away from the hamlet, the people and their carnal activities were less in evidence. Here and there among the trees a couple or a group would be seen, copulating gleefully. Those of them that saw the line of soldiers waved. Gildas registered more displeasure with each incident.
At one point the trees thinned out and a small lea appeared. In it was a man cavorting with a sheep. Gildas spurred his horse to Arthur’s side and sputtered. “This… must… be… stopped.”
Arthur was amused. “We’re in the country, Gildas. Even in normal times-”
“It is a violation of God’s law!”
“Then I suggest we leave it to God to punish it.”
“But-but-”
“What’s wrong?” Bedivere was laughing openly at the bishop’s fervor. “Can’t we trust your God to enforce his own laws?”
Gildas sulked, fell silent and returned to his place in the column.
In his carriage Merlin was only vaguely aware of everything that was happening. But he could see how unhappy Gildas was, and it pleased him. Every time he looked out of the carriage and saw the frowning bishop, he chuckled.
“Do you really think you should ridicule him so openly?” Peter asked.
“Gildas is a fool.” Merlin laughed. “As if there was some way to persuade people to stop enjoying themselves.”
“But… but a sheep! Really, Merlin.”
“I would not worry, Peter. There is no danger the sheep will get pregnant.”
“That isn’t the issue, and you know it.”
“What I know,” Merlin told him calmly, “is that anything that annoys that man cannot be all bad.”
“His religion has moral standards. Is that such a bad thing?”
Merlin switched to his schoolteacherly demeanor. “The greatest ‘Christian’ power in the world is Justinian’s Byzantine Empire. Or ‘Roman Empire’ as they so grandly call themselves.” He wrinkled his nose. “Most of its grandees could not find Rome on a good map.”
Peter watched the industrious shepherd. “What has that to do with Gildas and that sheep-loving fool out there?”
“There have been whispers that the Byzantines may have sent this plague to decimate us. It seems unlikely to me, but they have been known to spread disease among their enemies in the past.” He was rueful. “And for better or worse, they seem to count us among their enemies. Or at least as a people to be conquered.”
The carriage had moved on past the little meadow. “But a man with a sheep, Merlin!”
“Do you not know the stories they tell about Justinian’s wife, the Most Christian Empress Theodora?”
“No, I suppose I don’t. What about her?”
“She came from lowly origins. She was a slave. And she used to perform in the arena.” Merlin gazed directly at him. “Doing things with wild beasts. Donkeys, oxen,
“But that was in the past, before Justinian fell in love with her and elevated her to the throne.”
“Nevertheless. The Byzantines were Christians even then. The fact that they would countenance that kind of entertainment, much less revere a woman who took part in it…” He shrugged, then peered at Peter. “You are not a Christian, are you?”
“No, of course not. But-”
“There are more ways to be human than Gildas’s world-view could ever permit.”
“I know that, Merlin. But-”
“We must never be too hasty to condemn other people for their humanity. Your energy would be better channeled into finding Lord Darrowfield’s killer.”
“Was the killer not ‘being human,’ too?”
“He-or she-took a life. No society can countenance such a thing.”
“Of course not, Merlin. But if you know how much like Gildas you sound-”
“Rubbish.”
“You both want moral strictures. You simply disagree about where the boundary should be set.”
“No, we disagree about why the boundary is necessary at all. If I ever become as prudish as Gildas, you may call me on it.”
Peter laughed at him. “Bishop Merlin.”
“Stop it.”
It took a moment for Peter’s laughter to die down. Then he rode in silence, leaving Merlin to his thoughts. But Merlin found himself wondering, for the first time, about Peter’s soundness.
Just before dusk the party approached Grosfalcon. The wind had calmed, but a light, gentle snow was falling. The terrain was more and more hilly; in the far distance, the Welsh mountains could be glimpsed through the snow. In the middle distance the village itself loomed. And it was ablaze with light.
Arthur commented on it to Bedivere. “It looks as if they’re having a festival. They must have a thousand torches burning.”
“It is winter.” Bed shrugged. “People need light and heat.”
“At my father’s court, we used to celebrate Bran’s birthday with lights and music. And at my mother’s court we celebrated feasts in honor of the Morrigan, the goddess of death. But I can’t recall either place being lit up as brightly as this little backwater village. What do you suppose can be behind it?”
Again Bedivere shrugged. “Bumpkins.”
But it soon became apparent that the lights were spreading out from Grosfalcon into the surrounding forest. Before long, torchbearers reached Arthur’s column. There were dozens of people, waving torches about wildly, reveling, singing, dancing, making love. Some were dressed, some not, some only partially. Musicians played loud, frolicsome airs. Boys carrying wineskins accompanied them, pouring libations for any and all who wanted to drink. Dogs followed them all, happily snapping up scraps of food that they dropped. Some of the torches set fire to low-hanging tree branches. A group of merrymakers, most of them only partly dressed, set fire to a thick bush, then danced around it in a circle, as if it was a perverse kind of maypole. The falling snow, plus the snow already lying on the trees, made the fires sputter out quickly.
Arthur summoned Perceval to his side. “Well, we’re here. Now, where is this barn where you found the Stone?”
Perceval held up a hand to shield his eyes. “There is a hill just east of the village, a little one but steep. The barn is on the far side of it.”
Gildas followed Perceval to the front of the column. “Arthur, look at all this glee. You must order these people to stop at once.”
“You think,” Arthur said with amusement, “the most powerful king on earth could order a stop to all this? Honestly, Gildas, there are times when I think Merlin is right-your view of the world is so terribly naive.”
“The social order is breaking down, Arthur. Look at them. Morality itself is breaking down. Order must be restored.”
The king chuckled. “What would you suggest?”
“Arrest them. Use the whip and the sword.”
Bedivere spoke up. “Small as this village is, there are more people here than we have knights. Arresting them all is a practical impossibility.”
“One of them, then. Is it beyond your power to make an example of one of them?”
Arthur heaved a deep sigh. “For heaven’s sake, Gildas, look around you. It’s not as if this was only a matter of a few intransigents. It’s the entire countryside. We’ve been seeing this for miles. We’ll be lucky to keep our own men under control, much less the general population. Bed, go and fetch Merlin. I want to hear what he makes of all this.”
Bedivere spurred his horse and rode back to the carriage. Gildas snorted.
A band of young women approached and began flirting outrageously with the knights. Arthur shouted an order to maintain discipline. But it was apparent the knights were tempted. They would not maintain their self-control very long.
Bedivere returned a moment later with Merlin. Arthur briefly explained the situation. “Gildas here wants me to arrest everyone in sight. What do you think?”
Gildas glared at Merlin as if daring him to disagree. But Merlin was not about to be cowed. “The snow is beginning to fall more heavily. It will put an end to all this… what would you call it? Celebration?”
“Order must be restored!” The bishop bellowed it.
