The Excalibur Murders (30 page)

Among them came Morgan and her son, angry like Guenevere to have been brought under guard. She protested that as high priestess she was an officer of the state, or should be regarded as one, and Arthur met her with carefully studied obliviousness, pretending it was all for her own protection. She demanded the best rooms in Camelot, to no avail. Mordred sniveled and wiped his nose on his sleeve a lot.

Then came Mark. Both Arthur and Merlin were expecting him to be raging, but he feigned not to have noticed that his escort was really a guard.

"But, Arthur, there's something you must consider."

"And what is that, Mark?"

He lowered his voice. "Something dangerous is afoot."

"You want to warn me?"

"I do. You must not permit it."

"What the devil are you talking about, Mark?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I think you know perfectly well."

Arthur made his face a blank. "No. Honestly. Tell me."

"You can't guess what I mean?"

"It isn't like you to be so cryptic, Mark. If you have a point, make it."

He whispered heavily, "Merlin."

"What? What on earth could Merlin be doing that you have to warn me about?"

"This scheme of his, this plan to waken the dead. It is dangerous."

"He knows what he's doing, Mark." He couldn't resist adding, "Do you?"

"What is that supposed to mean? I'm not meddling with dark forces."

"Aren't you?"

It caught Mark off guard, and he stammered for a moment, trying to recover his composure. "Arthur, listen to me. Merlin is going to do something momentous. Something that has never been done, not in all recorded history."

"He's studied the appropriate texts. He knows what he's doing." Offhandedly, he added, "The gods will guide him-- and protect the rest of us."

"Please, Arthur, stop him from doing this. We could all end up in the worst peril."

"Mark, it's been announced. I can't very well disappoint all the nobles in the country, can I?"

Mark was losing his resolve to argue, but it was clear he was nervous, not to say frightened, which struck Arthur as a good thing. "This is perilous, Arthur. You know all the old legends about sorcerers who meddle in things they shouldn't. When they lose control, everyone suffers."

"Why, Mark, you sound genuinely afraid."

"And so I am. You should be, too. You let that old man play with these forces, we'll all have to pay."

Arthur thought to himself,
good
. But all he said was, "I really don't see how I can stop it. Too many people would be disappointed." He rubbed his hands together and grinned like an eager schoolboy. "Besides, I want to see it myself."

"May I have permission not to attend, then?"

Abruptly, Arthur turned king again. "You may not. I want you there." Then he smiled warmly. "If something awful does happen, I'll need you."

Grumping, clearly unhappy, Mark went off to his quarters. And Arthur went straight to Merlin's tower to tell him about the exchange. "He's worried about your 'miracle,' not about any plots or killers being exposed. That's good."

"Mark has always been superstitious. Er, excuse me, prone to believe in things."

"He's human, that's all."

Merlin ignored this; it was the wrong time to get into a philosophical debate. "So we have all four of our suspects where we want them."

Arthur gaped. "You want Pellenore in the castle walls, leaping out and terrifying people?"

"At least we know where he is. Besides, he hasn't actually hurt anyone, has he?"

"Except my boys."

"You think he slaughtered them but has turned docile and harmless?"

"Yes. That would be odd in an ordinary murderer, Merlin, but hardly in a madman."

"If you'll excuse me, Arthur, I have to go take an acting lesson."

"Act--?"

"Tomorrow night I shall give a performance for the ages. No Greek in the Odeon at Athens portrayed Hercules more convincingly than I shall play the magician."

"Well, you certainly talk like a Greek. Why don't you speak plainly, so people know what you're talking about?"

Merlin smiled and made a slight bow. "The result of years of practice at court."

And so more and more people flowed into Camelot, all of them in a festive mood. Soon the castle was filled to bursting, more so than it had been when the Stone of Bran was to have been unveiled. Servants were overworked; outriders went to the neighboring towns and villages, recruiting workers for the duration of the seasonal festival and offering generous wages. Food was brought in from every available source, and Mark's people in Cornwall sent enormous quantities of wine. Knowing the nature of Arthur's court, it would certainly be needed. Every available space in Camelot was decorated, with holly and other evergreens, with candles or both. No one complained about cramped quarters this time; it was Midwinter, the year's brightest holiday.

The first night, Arthur summoned everyone to the Great Hall. A platform had been set up against one wall--the same platform that had been erected the night Borolet died and the Stone of Bran and Excalibur were stolen. But this time there was only one throne on it, Arthur's; the symbolismwas impossible to miss. Scores of torches lit the hall brilliantly; it might almost have been daytime. Musicians played, singers caroled, mummers put on little skits for the amusement of the crowd and servants passed about with trays of meat and cakes.

Then, to a loud brass fanfare, Arthur entered, wearing Excalibur around his waist. He made a speech welcoming everyone to Camelot for the festivities. "Let us rejoice," he concluded, "that this gathering will end on a happier note than our last one."

The assembled knights and lords drank a toast to him, a second to his health, a third to his reign . . . Before long the customary court drunkenness was evident to everyone.

People were buzzing with speculation about Merlin's purported "miracle"; no one seemed to be talking about anything else. And through it all, Merlin and Nimue, who abstained from drinking, circulated among the crowd, keeping a careful eye on their suspects.

Then it was time for business. Arthur sat in majesty on his throne, brilliantly lit by torchlight, and summoned his most important vassals to himself, Morgan, Mark and Guenevere among them. He required each of them in turn to recite the oath of fealty to him, while kissing Excalibur's blade, and swear their oath by the gods. Morgan did so casually, almost offhandedly, as if such an oath hardly mattered. Mark grunted and did it perfunctorily. Guenevere did it slowly, with ill grace, and so softly as to be barely audible. But each time the oath mentioned allegiance to Arthur, she added, "And due caution regarding his armed guards."

Then all the other assembled vassals recited the oath en masse, while Arthur scanned the audience carefully to make sure they were all doing it.

Business ended, Arthur clapped his hands for more wine, and servants with trays of goblets and wineskins appeared. More came with cakes and tarts. The musicians struck up a lively dance. The formal part of the evening was over, and everyone enjoyed the revel. Before long people were pairing off, and couples slipped out of the hall, either furtively or openly, depending on their inclinations.

By an hour past midnight the hall was empty except for the musicians, packing up their instruments. The floor and tables were littered with scraps of food, empty cups and the like, which would be cleaned up in the morning. Once the players left, two servants went about the hall, extinguishing torches one by one. Merlin stood against the wall watching. He had noticed nothing in the behavior of the suspects that told him anything at all. But tomorrow would be the night.

Then he noticed a slight, almost imperceptible movement of a section of wall not far from where he was standing. He waited quietly, patiently, till the last of the torches and candles were put out. The only light came from the adjoining hallways. One of the servants approached him, a puzzled look on his face. Merlin held a finger to his lips and gestured to him that he should leave. Clearly puzzled, the man went. Merlin was alone in the darkened Great Hall. He pressed himself flat against the wall and waited.

Again the wall moved; he could barely see it in the near-complete darkness, but the sound of stone scraping on stone came to him clearly. Someone stepped out of the wall into the hall.

"Pellenore. Hello, Pellenore."

The old king jumped, startled. "Merlin?"

"Yes, of course. You've been leading the king's men on a merry chase."

"No one could know Camelot as well as I do. There are blind alleys, dead ends, even pitfalls . . . I hope no one has been hurt."

Even though they were speaking softly, their voices echoed faintly in the hall. Merlin took a few steps forward, cautiously. "Everyone keeps forgetting this was once your castle. You oversaw the construction, didn't you?"

"Mm-hmm. Arthur will never make this place completely his."

"I think he's beginning to understand that, though not in the way you mean."

"I hate it when you're smug, Merlin."

"I know, I know. Everyone does. What can I say?"

"Is there any food left?"

"I imagine so. If you scavenge about the hall I'm sure you'll find some good meat and some of those honey cakes Arthur can't resist."

Pellenore began moving from table to table, piling plates with what he could find and munching as he went. Merlin watched him, outlined dimly in the light from the corridors. "Sooner or later he'll catch you, you know. You can't live in the walls forever."

"I can until he realizes I'm not the one who killed his sons."

"You know they were his sons?"

"You'd be amazed how well voices carry here. I've been eavesdropping on him every chance I get. You're a fool to think you can trap anyone with this stunt you're going to pull."

"Let me worry about that, will you? What else have you heard? Has Mark said anything incriminating? Or Morgan, or Guenevere?"

"They're royals--they're politicians. Scheming is what they do. Everything they say is incriminating." He bit into a joint of beef he'd found. "I'm happier living in the walls than I ever was outside."

"Will you stay there, then? Even after we've found out the culprit? Will you live in the walls of the castle like a phantom?"

"I've been a phantom ever since Arthur took it from me, Merlin. And you know it."

"I could sound the alarm. Call the guards. End this now."

"Where do you think you could imprison me that I couldn't escape from?"

Merlin shrugged. "Arthur has other castles."

"Leave me to my own devices, will you, Merlin? I'm happier."

"Tomorrow night. I shall unmask the twins' killer tomorrow night. After that, you will have no reason to remain in hiding."

"Suppose I tell you the beasts can't find me when I'm behind the walls?"

"Suppose I remind you that you told me once you are only mad in one direction? And that direction is not into the walls."

"Besides, Merlin, I prefer dragons to Arthur and his family and his courtiers. I could kill them all, you know. I could emerge from the castle walls while they're asleep and do them in."

"You make my mouth water, Pellenore. But you mustn't do that. It's taken all my powers of persuasion to keep them from tearing open the walls to find you as things stand. If you were to do a thing like that . . ." He spread his hands wide apart in a gesture of helplessness.

Arms laden with plates of food, Pellenore moved back to the door he'd entered through. "I could do it. You know it. I could kill them all and never be caught."

"Them? If you're going to kill anyone at all, why not go for the ones who've been plotting treason?"

"Good night, Merlin."

"Good night. Sleep well, Pellenore, if you can. And drop any idea you may have of regicide, will you?"

The old king pulled the door shut behind him.

Merlin moved to the spot and ran his fingers along the wall. There was nothing detectable, not the least seam or crack. A moment later, from behind the wall, he heard the sound of stumbling and plates clattering to the floor, and Pellenore's voice cursing.

First thing in the morning, Merlin was up and about. Nimue joined him. "I'm nervous, Merlin. The more I think about this, the more dangerous it seems."

"It is dangerous for both of us. But I can't see that we have any choice, not if we want to restore order here."

"Even so. I'm having second thoughts, more and more of them."

"Everything will be all right. Arthur will be armed, and he will have guards posted. We'll be safe."

"How many guards?"

"As many as can be, without arousing suspicion."

"Suppose that isn't enough?"

"Suppose fire rains down from the sky and kills us all?"

"Point taken. But Merlin--"

"Come on. The refectory should be crowded enough. Let us begin."

Glumly, reluctantly, she followed him to the dining hall. It was full of people, many of them plainly feeling the effects of the previous night's drinking. Merlin was pleased at this. "We don't want anyone too terribly attentive or thoughtful--certainly not any of our suspects."

Off in a corner of the refectory were two men, dressed in dingy clothes, clearly not nobles or even servants; these were laborers and it was unmistakable. Merlin approached them and shook their hands, and they all sat down together.

Their conversation was loud, uncharacteristically so, and people all around eavesdropped, most of them not trying to hide the fact.

"You understand what you're to do?"

"Yes, sir," said one of the men. "But--"

"Good. And you know which one I want, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. The other one was mutilated beyond hope. He would hardly be an apt subject."

"But, sir, we've never done this before. It's ugly; it's not right."

"It is for a good purpose. You may rest assured of that."

"No good can come of a thing like this."

"It will."

This exchange had piqued the curiosity of everyone within easy earshot, which was precisely what Merlin wanted. "Have you had a good breakfast?"