Untitled (18 page)

   Amid more protests the three of them finally took their leave, plainly unhappy. Even the Lithuanian seemed to have sensed somehow that they had been rebuffed. As they left they began to bicker among themselves—at least Andrea and Gildas did; the Lithuanian burbled more of whatever he had been burbling all along and was roundly ignored by his colleagues.

   Once they were out of sight, Arthur, Merlin and Brit re­ laxed. Arthur called for wine and asked Merlin, "You're sure you don't mind suspending school for a few days?"

   "The squires and pages have been working hard at their lessons. Well, most of them have. The more athletically in­ clined among them have no use for actual learning. But I think a break will do them all good. And I daresay most of them will be happy for this chance to play at being secret agents. We can call them 'diplomatic actors' or some such."

   Brit asked, "Are they really bright enough to do this? I mean, do they have enough on the ball, or do they only have jousting and wrestling on their minds?"

   "The majority of them will be fine. Once you and I have taught them how to behave and the kind of things to look for, I am fairly certain they will do a good job for us. The duller ones among them can be assigned to the less impor­ tant delegates. That peculiar man from Lithuania, for in­ stance."

   "How can we know how important he actually is?"

   Merlin shrugged. "Or how unimportant. But I am begin­ ning to be suspicious of him. How odd is it that the dele­ gates would have selected him, of all people, as one of their spokesmen?"

Arthur gaped at him. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Well, have we had any word yet about Podarthes?"

"You think that he might be—?"

   Again Merlin shrugged; then he noticed something from the corner of his eye. He got to his feet and began to amble about the room in an uncharacteristic way. "There is no way to know, is there? But it would explain his presence here, despite his plain inability to interact with us, diplo­ matically or otherwise. And it would explain why at least some of the others wanted him to represent them—if they know who he really is, I mean. At any rate, we will have to choose one of the brighter squires to keep watch on him."

   Merlin was now standing near a tapestry. Suddenly he pulled it back. "This squire, for instance." Standing behind it, clearly eavesdropping, was the boy Petronus. When he realized he had been exposed, he gaped wide-eyed at Mer­ lin, then at the king. And he drew a dagger and bolted, ran away so fast Merlin was a bit startled. Brit lunged and grabbed for him but he was too quick.

   Merlin shouted, "Walter!" A guard just outside the room planted himself squarely in the doorway. Petronus tried to push past him, but Walter was too big and too strong. He caught the boy, confiscated his knife and dragged him, struggling wildly, back before the king.

   "Well, well, well." Britomart's tone was strongly ironic. "We seem to have caught ourselves a would-be assassin."

An hour later the three of them—Arthur, Merlin and Bri­ tomart—headed resolutely down to the dungeons, accom­ panied by two soldiers. Brit had suggested putting Petronus in the same cell as Lancelot, whose squire he had been be­ fore he defected to Arthur's court. "Then we must place someone to eavesdrop on them. With luck they'll say some­ thing incriminating and save us the trouble of probing for the facts."

   Merlin liked the idea but said, "I wish we were at Camelot. Pellenore knows all the hidden passages there. Nothing happens at Camelot that he does not know about."

   "Perhaps we can ask Petronilla. She may know about the castle's hidden places. I think she would be delighted to incriminate her brother."

   They had decided to let Petronus and Lancelot keep company for an hour before confronting the boy. Then the time approached.

   The jailor told them that he had been listening carefully, but neither of the prisoners had said much. He unlocked the cell door and the three of them went in, followed by the two guards in case either prisoner made a break for it or tried to overpower them.

   The cell was dark; it might have been midnight there. Two torches, one at either end, gave the only light, and they barely seemed to penetrate the gloom. Lancelot was pacing angrily. Petronus was sitting on the stone floor, back to the wall, looking worried, as well he might. He was also shiv­ ering; the cell was icy. And dribbles of cold rainwater poured in through cracks in the wall. He looked as if he might have been crying.

   But before any of them could address Petronus, Lancelot planted himself squarely before them. "You've come to talk."

   "Yes, Lancelot." The king was sanguine. "But not to you."

   "You have to talk to me. I have rights. That is one of the hallmarks of your England, isn't it? I have the right to be heard."

   "There will be a trial soon enough." Arthur signaled to the soldiers to move him out of the way.

   Merlin smiled what he hoped was a warm smile and took a step forward. "Petronus."

   "You sound surprised to find me here." The boy sulked. "You did put me here, remember? I'm cold. I can't stop shaking."

   "Now, now, Petronus. That is no way to talk."

   "How would you talk, in my situation?"

   "I would cooperate with my captors in hopes of better­ ing my circumstances."

   "Of course."

   Brit advanced a few steps toward him. "I must say I'm grateful for one thing, Petronus. You are no longer my squire. To have you do this while you were in my service would have been a considerable disgrace."

   The boy started to say something, but Merlin cut him off. "Instead you did it in mine. I wish I knew what to think. I have always liked you, Petronus, ever since we first met, in this very castle. And all of us have been good to you—welcoming and kind. How could you have betrayed us like this?"

   Petronus looked at Lancelot, who glowered at him. The boy was clearly frightened of him. Merlin whispered to Arthur, "Perhaps this was not the best idea. He will not tell us anything with Lancelot present."

   Arthur thought for a moment, then nodded.

   "Petronus," Merlin said, "we have decided to move you to a warmer place. Just so you will understand we mean you nothing ill, if you will only talk. Who put you up to this?"

   Abruptly Lancelot exploded. "And what about me? You will give this rat a more comfortable prison, but I have to stay here in this icy hole?"

   Arthur smiled at him. "And you are still on your honey­ moon. Life can be terrible, can't it?"

   At Arthur's signal the guards took Petronus and led him from the cell. Arthur, Merlin and Brit saluted Lancelot with mock-cordiality and followed them. To the guards Arthur said, "Take him to my study for now. But keep close watch on him. He's quick."

   On their way back up to the king's rooms, they dis­ cussed what to do. Merlin noted that there certainly seemed to be something between Lancelot and Petronus, but it had the air of distrust and intimidation more than conspiracy. "Let me interrogate him. I've been working with the squires in school; I think I've learned how to talk to them."

   "The young are always alien." Arthur sounded resigned to the sad fact.

   In the king's study, Petronus was sitting at the confer­ ence table, the guards just behind him. He was apparently fighting back tears, and he looked terrified. Two more sol­ diers stood at either side of the room's entrance, watching him. When he heard the three of them enter he looked up, wide-eyed. "Are you— You're going to torture me, aren't you?"

   They took seats around the other three sides of the table. Merlin smiled gently. "Of course not. But we must know why you did what you did. We have been so kind to you since you came here. This hardly seems the way to repay us."

   "I—I'm sorry. I'm so ashamed. They made me—they told me—"

   "Who are they? Lancelot and Guenevere?"

   The boy nodded. Then he turned and looked directly at Arthur. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I'm so sorry. I never meant to—"

   "What did they threaten you with?" Merlin interrupted.

   "They—they said—I—"

   "Calm yourself, Petronus. If you did what you did under coercion, we will certainly take that into account. But tell us."

   "They said—they—they told me they had my sister. They said they would torture her, even kill her if I didn't do what they wanted. They sent me a lock of her hair and a brooch, a family heirloom, as proof that they had her."

   Brit spoke up. "But you and Petronilla don't even like each other."

   "Even so, she is my sister. I couldn't just let them . . . do those things. A squire has a code of honor. Protecting his own family is one of the cornerstones."

   Merlin shot Brit a glance as if to say,
See what comes of
your so-called chivalry?
Then he turned back to the boy. "And what did they require you to do?"

   Softly, so softly it was almost a whisper, he said, "Spy for them. And kill the king."

   There was a long silence. His words seemed to hang in the air around them. Finally Petronus lost control and began to cry, to sob loudly. "They fooled me. She was with them, she was all right, she wasn't their prisoner at all. I'm so stupid. I'm so ashamed."

   "There was no way you could know. But why didn't you come to us? Why didn't you tell us what they were doing?"

   "So you could do what? What could you have done? Would you have raided Corfe to rescue her? A French girl you didn't even know? Would you have risked civil war over that? I—I felt trapped. But—but I tried to— I never really told them anything important."

   "You attacked me. In the dark. It was you." Arthur raised his voice menacingly and pointed an accusing finger at the boy.

   "I didn't want to hurt you, Your Majesty. I tried not to. But it was dark, and you fought. I . . . I never really would have . . . I had other chances . . . and I . . . I thought if they thought I was trying, that would make them leave me alone. Please believe me. I didn't want to hurt you. Or anyone. I had my knife, and I thought if I could maybe nick you with it, they would hear and think I was trying to do what they wanted. But you fell against me, and . . ." He finally broke down completely and sobbed like an injured animal. "I'm so ashamed. I'm so sorry. Please believe me. They made a fool of me, an evil fool."

   "Folly is always evil." Merlin made his voice gentle. "Look at me, Petronus."

   Slowly the boy raised his head and looked Merlin in the eye.

   "You said it yourself. They deceived you."

   "You believe me?"

   "Let us say your story seems plausible. And perfectly in character for Lancelot and Guenevere. But there is one thing we need to know."

   "Yes?"

   "How did they do this? How did they contact you?"

   "There's . . . there's a Frenchwoman, a laundress, who comes to Camelot now and then. She is their agent. You must know the one I mean. A large woman, fat, dresses like a man."

   Merlin exchanged glances with Brit. "Yes, I think I know her."

   "She started talking to me not long after I came to Camelot. Then she started trying to get me to spy. And then . . ." He lowered his head again and raised a hand to wipe his eyes.

   Merlon asked him, "Are you willing to repeat all of this in court? Under oath?"

   Petronus nodded.

   "We will have to do what we can to verify all this, Petronus. In the meantime, we must keep you in custody."

   "With Lancelot? Please, I'm afraid of him. He—"

   "I think we can arrange for you to be held someplace else. Perhaps even in your own rooms next to mine. Under guard, of course." He looked to Brit. "The soldiers you have posted to guard me can keep an eye on him, too, don't you think?"

   Relief showed in the boy's face. "Thank you, sir, thank you."

   "But I must warn you. Be very careful what you say and do. If you give us any reason at all to doubt what you have told us, it will not go well for you."

   "I will give you none. Trust me."

   "If we could trust you, Petronus, none of this would be necessary. See to it that we have no cause to doubt you fur­ ther."

   The guards took the boy away, with instructions to place him in his room near Merlin's. Brit wanted him kept in one of the dungeon cells, but Merlin and Arthur overruled her.

   When he was gone the three of them looked at one an­ other and sighed. Merlin began the discussion. "It sounds plausible. It sounds perfectly in character for Guenevere."

   Brit was doubtful. "Yes, but it leaves the question of who to believe."

   "What do you mean?"

   "Petronilla has been our agent. And a good one. Every piece of information she's given us has been reliable. If she cooperated with this scheme of theirs, to the point of giving them some of her hair and that brooch . . . What does that suggest about her true loyalties?"