“Later, Mordred.” Arthur smiled a patient smile.
Merlin pressed on. “What about Marian of Bath and her sons? Has any of them said anything?”
“Not a word that might incriminate them, if that’s what you mean. They seem more puzzled and outraged than anything else.” Brit took a long swallow of mead. “This is supposed to be a celebration of your return, Arthur. Do you really want to let Merlin turn it into an inquiry?”
“If Morgan is behind what has been happening, the situation is more serious than I would have believed. Or would have wanted to believe. But she has made a grave tactical blunder.” Bedivere started to say something, but Arthur anticipated him and cut him off. “Almost as grave as the tactical blunder I made when we were planning the journey.”
Everyone looked at Mordred. The young man blushed and tried to go on eating as if he didn’t understand. But it was clear to everyone there: Morgan had left her son and heir in Arthur’s hands-a bad move for a potential traitor.
“But-but-” Mordred felt compelled to say something but wasn’t sure what would be appropriate. “But-would she have done that if she was really a traitor?”
Merlin stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I wonder.”
“But-but you can’t suspect me, Uncle. I’ve never-”
“You are your mother’s son. You must know as much about poisons and such as she does, or nearly so. I must ask that you remain here in, shall we say, protective custody, until this matter is resolved.”
“Yes, Uncle. But I give you my word, I don’t want to leave. You know that Mother and I have never-”
“I am afraid,” Merlin cut him off, “that the word of the son of a suspected traitor carries very little weight.”
Arthur smiled indulgently. “It’s only for a short time, Mordred. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of it all fairly soon.”
Peter approached Merlin, smiling. “It is time for me to get back to Darrowfield. I’ve been away much longer than I’d planned. Our journey together was so very… interesting.”
“I will miss you, Peter. Having you along to give me support was quite invaluable. With none of my usual aides to help me…”
“Believe me, Merlin, it was my pleasure. The chance to see you in action, even if that action was inconclusive, meant the world to me.”
“When will you leave?”
“As soon as I can make the necessary arrangements. Before noon, with luck.”
Merlin took his hand. “Until we meet again, then. Be well. And be certain to keep me posted on the murder investigation at Darrowfield. The crown wants to know who murdered our baron.”
“I’ll be sure to do so. And of course I’ll send whatever plague news I can.”
“Let us hope there will be none.”
Peter grinned and shook his hand again. “Well, I’m off to the stables to make my arrangements. As you said, till we meet again.” He made a slight bow and a little salute, then turned and headed off toward the stables.
A sudden surge of bitterly cold air swept across England that morning. There was, thankfully, no more snow or rain, but the temperature turned frigid. In the sunlight particles of ice could be seen dancing in the air, stirred by the slightest breeze.
Merlin began to feel the cold in every joint in his body. His limbs grew stiff and sore, even more than they were usually. Every now and again the pain would become so severe that he would wince and curse the weather and his own body silently.
He sent a messenger to catch Peter in the stables. The note he sent read, “Be certain to take blankets and cloaks. Winter is upon us and shows signs of being merciless.”
Then it was time to return to his tower. Petronus scrambled up the steps to make certain the lift mechanism was operating properly. Then Merlin took his seat in the sling and began his mechanical ascent, more grateful than ever that he had built the thing.
“Merlin!” Nimue jumped up from her sick bed and impulsively threw her arms around him. “It’s so wonderful to have you back! And alive!”
He permitted her embrace for a moment, then pulled free and kissed her cheek lightly. “Alive? Exactly how old do you think I am?”
She laughed. “As old as the stones at Stonehenge, if not older. You look tired. The journey was hard on you.”
“So kind of you to say so.” The raven Roc flew in through the window, perched on Merlin’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. He raised a hand to pet it. “But you are right. I have traveled much too much lately. Dover, Darrowfield, Grosfalcon… A true scholar does not need to travel.”
She cocked her head at him, puzzled.
“I mean it. A scholar may just as well stay where the gods put him, and dig.”
Petronus was standing behind him, watching and listening. “You don’t believe in the gods. You say so often enough.”
“Do not be difficult, Petronus.”
“It’s so wonderful to have you back and safe. May I… may I…”
“Yes?”
Instead of finishing his thought the boy rushed forward and threw his arms around Merlin. “The scant reports we had about your journey had us so worried.”
“All this hugging.” Merlin feigned distaste. “It is so unseemly.”
Nimue laughed at him. “You are a fraud, Merlin. You’re as glad to be home as we are to have you here.”
“Perhaps so.” He was giving nothing away. He found his favorite chair and sat. “But tell me about your bout with the plague. What were the symptoms? Why do you think you recovered instead of…?”
“Plague? The report you received must not have been complete.” Nimue glanced at Petronus and scowled. “It was not plague. I had a severe case of the ague. Petronus says the French call it influenza. Fever, chills, stomachache, congestion… Several people in the castle have had it. How did you get the notion it was plague?”
“At first I thought it was only a cold. But then I grew fearful that it might be something far worse. It was foolish of me. I know better than to make unwarranted assumptions. But Marian of Bath and her son Wayne-”
“They were wonderful, Merlin. They fussed over me like anxious nursemaids. They said they wanted to allay your suspicions about them.” She hesitated. “What suspicions? And why? Why on earth did you have them arrested?”
He ignored the question. “They gave you no drugs? Nothing that might have-?”
“Nothing, no. You’re being mysterious.” It was an accusation.
“I am trying to make sense of everything that has happened. Did they ever give you any reason to think they might be loyal to Morgan?”
“Morgan le Fay? No, none. Not for a moment.”
He turned to Petronus. “And you. Did you ever hear either of them say anything of the sort?”
Petronus shook his head. He was plainly lost.
Suddenly Merlin got to his feet. “I think it is time for me to interview them. Which dungeon are they in?”
“The north one. It is rather full down there. You kept sending back prisoners.”
“And one of them, at least, is guilty. But we do not yet know the full extent of the guilt.”
“You mustn’t go till you’ve told us all about the journey. We want to know everything.”
“The fact that
“You’re infuriating.”
He smiled beatifically. “It is my job. Till later.” He made a little salute. “Come, Petronus. Operate the lift for me.”
Nimue wanted to go with Merlin. He wanted her to stay in bed till she was fully recovered, but she insisted she felt fine. So while Petronus operated the lift for Merlin, she descended the stairs and met him at the bottom. They headed down to the dungeons.
“So, Petronus has discovered your secret.”
“Yes. I wish he hadn’t.” She shrugged. “But I was sick. He wanted to undress me, to help make me more comfortable. The only way I could think to stop him was to tell him the truth.”
“And what about Marian? And her son? Do they know?” Nimue shook her head. “I don’t think so, no. I don’t see how they could.”
“Petronus…” His tone was offhand.
“No, Petronus is quite thrilled to be in on the secret. He is excited by the thought of a woman dressing as a man.”
Merlin laughed. “Precocious boy. So, at least for the time being, and as far as anyone in Camelot knows, you are still Colin. Excellent.”
“What do you mean, ‘for the time being’?”
“Secrets have a way of leaking out, whether we want them to or not.” They had reached the lowest level of the castle. “As I hope will be the case when we interview our unwilling guests.”
There were guards posted in the dungeon, of course. Nimue asked Merlin if they should perhaps take one with them as they interrogated the prisoners.
“No. I do not think that would be productive.” He smiled. “Besides, the cells are so small, and Marmaduke and Lulua are so large.”
“What about the others?”
“There will be five of us in one cell. That is more than crowded enough.”
Marian had been confined in a little cell in Camelot’s basement. Each of her sons had his own cell as well. Merlin ordered that both of the boys be brought to her cell. As he sat and waited for the jailors to bring them, he questioned Marian.
“You know Colin.”
“Yes, of course.” Marian was made of ice. “He is the rat who gave you some pretext to arrest us.”
“That is not so. Colin is here to make notes, nothing more. I hope you do not mind.”
She laughed at him. “And if I do?”
Merlin brushed that aside. “You were at Darrowfield. Tell me what happened there after my party left.”
“I’ve told everyone who’s asked.” Marian paused to glare at “Colin,” then went on. “Nothing in particular happened there. We helped the lord’s servants make ready for the feast he was planning.” She seemed uncertain whether she should be saying this, or whether Merlin would believe her. Her manner was hesitant. But she went on. “I even gave them the recipe for my honey cakes. Then word came that the lord and his sons had been-had been-”
“Slaughtered.” Merlin smiled faintly. “Like sheep. Where were you and your sons when the murder occurred?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You suspect us? So that explains this imprisonment. But we-”
The guards entered with Robert and Wayne. Merlin gestured that they should take seats beside their mother. “Go on with what you were saying, Marian.”
She ignored this and told her sons, “Merlin appears to think we murdered Lord Darrowfield and his boys.”
“What?!” One of the twins jumped to his feet, plainly angry at this. “Why would we? What was that old fool to us?” The other boy remained seated, his features passive. Merlin was uncertain
