The Excalibur Murders (7 page)

He turned to Mark and ordered him pointedly to post more soldiers. Then to the queen he said, "Go back to your rooms, Guenevere. If you don't go now, and voluntarily, you will do it under guard."

Lancelot stepped toward him, his hand on his sword, obviously angry. Two of Arthur's men drew their own swords, as did Mark, Britomart and Ganelin.

Guenevere stepped serenely between them and put a hand on Lancelot's arm. Servants scrambled to get behind one another. "You would never dare hold us prisoner, Arthur," Lancelot snarled.

"Do you think I'm afraid of the scandal? If I can weather the gossip about you bellying the queen, I can certainly weather this."

Looking more than mildly alarmed, Lancelot and Guenevere stepped into the carriage and talked hastily. A moment later she emerged, smiling lightly, and told her husband she would remain for another day, no more. "But I warn you, Arthur, we are to be treated as guests, not prisoners. "

"Is that a threat?"

"Let us say it is a request. A firm request."

Arthur turned to Britomart. "Take two of the men. Go and spread word that the queen will remain in residence."

Smirking, Britomart asked him, "As a guest?"

"As a guest." Glancing at the queen he added, "A royal guest."

Merlin leaned close to Nimue and whispered, "A royal pain would be more like it."

The rain began to come down steadily. Mixed with it were occasional particles of ice. It stung faces and hands.

Arthur watched as his wife, her lover and their servants were herded back into the castle by his soldiers. To Mark he said, "I should have let her go. This storm will get bad. She'd never have gotten far in it, and I'd have had the pleasure of hearing her ask for shelter."

"Would you have given it?"

"Not until she begged or became waterlogged."

A moment later everyone went back inside. Arthur asked them all to meet in Merlin's rooms the next morning, to discuss what had happened that night and plan how to find the assassin. "I won't rest till we find him. Borolet must be avenged."

"Suppose it was the assassin who you just sent back into your castle?" Merlin asked.

It caught Arthur off guard. In fact it seemed an impossible thought for him to confront. "Would that be worse than letting her go free?"

"She was trying to leave for a reason. To leave by dark of night," he added emphatically. "And without saying a word to you or anyone else. Is it wrong of me to find that suspicious? "

"You find everything Guenevere does suspicious."

"Only because it is."

"I'm going to bed, Merlin. I need a good night's rest. We all do." To everyone he announced, "We'll meet after breakfast. In Merlin's quarters."

After midnight the rain became heavy. Then a cold wave blew down from the north and turned it to ice and snow.

Like all castles Camelot was full of drafts. Cold air rushed through the halls and chambers, wailing mournfully like an invasion of ghosts. Tapestries blew in it; rickety old furniture wobbled noisily.

In his bedchamber Merlin woke, freezing. He got up, threw four logs on the fire, which gave the only light in the room, then opened a huge old wooden chest and rummaged about till he found a coverlet made of wolf hides. It was thick and warm, and he wrapped it around himself as he walked back to the bed.

But the wind was howling too loudly for him to get back to sleep easily. He got up again, went and stood by the fire, rubbed his hands together and wondered aloud why people ever chose to live in places where the weather got this unpleasant.

There came a soft knock at the door. He opened it to find Nimue, wrapped in a blanket and shivering. "I'm sorry to wake you, Merlin."

"You didn't."

"The fire in my room went out and I don't have any tinder to relight it."

"Come in. Mine is burning high and hot."

"Thanks." She entered hurriedly. "Say what you will about Morgan, she always keeps her castle warm."

"That's a good trick. How does she manage it?"

"Only she and the gods know."

"Let me get us some wine." He opened a cabinet and took out a bottle and two cups. "Fire only warms the outside. "

Nimue took the wine gratefully. "I hate winter."

"And it's not even here yet. This is only a foretaste. I hope it doesn't mean winter itself, when it gets here, will be worse."

"What an awful thought." She drank deeply.

"It must be my age, but every year I have a harder time believing spring will actually come."

Nimue drained her cup then walked to the window. "Where would you live, given the choice?"

"I don't know. Alexandria is warm but noisy. There's something wrong with every place, I suppose."

"I hate winter." She looked outside.

"You might stop saying so."

Camelot sat atop the highest hill for miles around. There was a wide, wonderful view of the surrounding hills and forests, all white from the weather. And there were breaks in the clouds though it was still snowing. The moonlit world was ghostly.

Then something caught her eye. "Merlin, look."

Fifty feet away from them rose Camelot's tallest tower, the one where the king resided. Two windows looked from his bedchamber out over the castle and beyond. And both windows were lit brightly. The figure of the king was unmistakable in one of them.

The sight startled Merlin. But he told her, "He's restless, that's all. You saw how the murder affected him."

"Yes."

Then another figure appeared beside him, male, shorter than he. For a moment they stood side by side. Then they embraced.

Seeing it made Merlin uncomfortable. "I have a flint and some wood shavings. Let's see if we can't get your fire relit. "

Nimue lingered at the window for a moment, fascinated. She watched as the two figures pulled apart and the light went out. Then she went with Merlin. Her room was just below his in the tower, but her windows faced the opposite direction. He was glad of that. When he managed to reignite the fire, he said good night and went back up to his own chambers.

The room was warmer now. He put another log on the fire, hoping the warmth would last, got into bed and wrapped himself in wolf fur. But sleep would not come. Too much was happening. Too much that was unexpected and made no sense.

Early the next morning they began to arrive at Merlin's chambers.

The snow had stopped, but occasional flakes still danced in the air, glinting in the grey diffuse light from a heavy cloud deck.

Most of the windows in Camelot were either unglazed or permanently sealed shut with glass. The glass was crude, not at all smooth or clear, which made windows inconvenient. But Merlin had contrived to have the window in his study hinged, for the ravens. They would come and peck at it to be let in or out. Sometimes the hinge would stick and the window would have to be forced, and sometimes as a result the glass would crack and need replacing. But in weather like this he was glad he'd installed the hinge.

First thing that morning all three of the birds were outside the window, tapping earnestly. He let them in and fed them some stale bread crumbs. Then they gathered near the fireplace, though not too close.

Mark arrived first. He gave every indication of having slept well and soundly despite the night's events and the pervasive chill. "Good morning, Merlin."

"It is not a good morning. This is only the beginning of November. It's way too early in the season for this kind of weather."

Mark beamed. "I love the cold."

"You're a dangerously unbalanced man."

"Relax, Merlin. It'll warm up again."

"Maybe the weather will. I'm not at all certain that I will myself. Cold has a way of settling deep in my bones. When that happens nothing warms me up but soaking in a hot tub of water for a long time, which I find equally unpleasant."

Mark pulled up a stool and sat with his legs up on the table. "You're getting old."

"Arthur always tells me I was born old."

"He has a point." For the first time he noticed the ravens, huddled a few feet from the fire. "You're still keeping those damned birds."

Merlin scowled. "Colin is supposed to bring some warm spiced wine. That'll help warm us up."

"Wine always helps everything."

"You're one of Arthur's men, all right."

As if on cue the door opened and Nimue came in, carrying a large pot of steaming spiced wine. "Good morning. Let's put this near the fire before it gets cold."

Mark sprang to his feet. "Not till I get a cupful for myself. "

The ravens scuttled away, watching Nimue warily. There was an iron hook at the fireplace. She hung the wine pot then walked to the window. "Look at it out there. The world has turned white and pure."

"The world," Merlin said carefully and pointedly, "has not been pure since Pandora opened her box."

"Who?" Mark looked into is cup. "There's too much cardamom in this. Who on earth is Pandora?"

"A myth. Never mind."

Britomart knocked and came in. "Morning, everyone."

"I'm glad you didn't say
good
morning," Merlin grumped.

"I just met Pellenore in the hall as I was coming here. Even he's unhappy about the cold. He says his dragons have gone into hibernation, like bears." She smiled. "So now he doesn't know what to do with himself. Is Ganelin coming? And Arthur?"

Nimue stirred the pot. "They should be here soon. Would you like some hot wine?"

"Please. Anything warm."

At the window Merlin looked down to the courtyard. There was some activity. It took him a few seconds to realize Morgan and Mordred were there with their servants. Apparently, they were trying to leave, exactly as Guenevere had the night before. But the guards had been doubled and given strict orders. No one, not even the high priestess, was going to get out of Camelot today.

He turned to the others. "It looks as if another of our suspects is trying to get away." He explained what was going on below.

Brit swirled the wine in her cup then tasted it. "Morgan can't be a suspect, can she? I mean, she was there in plain sight the whole time--on the dais."

"But Mordred wasn't," Nimue volunteered. "I saw him leave the hall just after his mother took her seat."

"Maybe he had to use the privy, Colin." Mark got up and refilled his cup. "I did."

"And did you see him there?" Merlin asked.

"Don't be absurd. You know how many loos there are in Camelot."

"I've never actually counted."

Brit took a seat across the table from Mark. "I wish we didn't have to deal with this. I wish . . . I don't know . . . I guess I wish Borolet was still alive."

Merlin crossed to the fireplace and got wine. "He was in training to be a knight. That more or less precludes a natural death for most people."

"I'm still here." She took a long swallow of wine. "There's not enough cardamom in this."

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside. Whoever it was was walking slowly and heavily. Then the door opened and Arthur came in. He looked as if he hadn't slept; he was pale and drawn, and there was nothing like his usual energy. "Morning, everyone. Cold day."

"Shrewd observation, Arthur."

"Why don't you save the sarcasm for once, Merlin? I've had a terrible night."

Merlin and Nimue exchanged glances; it was tempting to comment on what they'd seen at his window, but they both kept tactfully quiet about it. She asked Arthur, "Is Ganelin coming?"

"Yes. I want him here. But he may be late. I think he had an even worse night than I did. What happened is only beginning to sink in for him."

Suddenly, Merlin was in his element. "He has lost not merely his brother but his twin. That must be devastating for him. Philosophers have theorized what accounts for twin births. The usual explanation is that they are halves of a whole, and that neither is ever quite complete without the other. If Ganelin is feeling that--"

"Whatever he's feeling can't be pleasant, Merlin." Arthur avoided looking at him. "The question is, who could have wanted the shrine and the stone badly enough to kill Borolet so horribly to get them?" He looked around the room hoping someone would answer, but they were all watching him and waiting for him to go on. "Do any of you have any ideas?"

No one else spoke up, so Nimue did. "I think we all know who the suspects are, sir. At least the obvious ones."

"And who are they, Colin?"

She hesitated. "Well . . . Guenevere and Morgan."

"My wife and my sister." His voice broke. "No, each is a monster in her way but I can't believe that of either of them." Then he brightened slightly. "They were both there in the Great Hall, in front of half the nobles in England. How could either of them--"

"They weren't alone, Arthur." Britomart got to her feet and began pacing. "They have servants. Friends. Devotees. I saw Lancelot leave the hall myself. Other people saw Mordred go."

"Mordred? That spindly, watery, spidery bas-- nephew of mine? He could barely hold a broadsword like Excalibur let alone wield it properly."

"What about Lancelot, then?" Mark looked into his empty cup, thought about getting more wine then put the cup on the table instead. "I mean, he's dense and everyone knows it. But this was hardly a crime that required much thought."

Arthur was looking more and more out of his depth. "I'll ask Guenevere about it."

"She'll defend him." Merlin was surpassingly firm. "She'll never admit her stud knight could have done this. Especially if she told him to."

"Even so. I'll talk to her. What else can I do?"

"While you're at it, then, ask her why she tried to sneak away under cover of darkness. Even if she wanted to leave, the sensible thing would have been to go by daylight and in better weather."

The king fell silent. After a long pause he said, "I want you to find this killer, this assassin, by Midwinter Court. I want to announce then that he's been brought to justice. Do what you need to do to find him."

"I want to help." Without anyone noticing, Ganelin had slipped into the room. He stood pressed against the door, looking sad and frightened.

"Ganelin." Merlin smiled. "Come in and sit. Let Colin give you some warmed wine."