Untitled (11 page)

   "I wish I could believe that."

   "Well, I will write Brit and tell her to keep an eye on him, if it will make you feel better."

   "It will, Merlin. Petronus is there with Arthur, after all. And whoever their spy is has already made one attempt on the king's life."

   "Brit will watch him. Don't worry."

   "I'm in the diplomatic service now. It's my job to worry."

   "If it is any solace, you are doing a first-rate job of it."

The Spider's House was looking good. Workmen had given it a fresh coat of whitewash; it gleamed and caught the eye from a great distance. And they had made enough cosmetic repairs so that the disrepair on the older wings was not no­ ticeable. The visiting dignitaries would, for all they knew, be visiting a first-rate piece of real estate.

   Sentries were posted everywhere around the castle. Cap­ tain Dalley had arranged for three rings of them, one just outside the building, one in the middle distance and one still father away. The most distant of them was equipped with Merlin's "long-distance viewing lenses" mounted in wooden frameworks. The chance that either Lancelot or Guenevere might escape, or foreign agents penetrate the castle undetected, was remote.

   Dalley greeted Merlin and "Colin" at the main entrance. "It's good to see the two of you again. I hope you've trav­ eled well."

   "Yes, thank you. How are things here?"

   "The queen fumes and tries to act regal and command­ ing. Lancelot keeps making these absurd attempts at es­ cape."

   "But is he attempting to escape from our guards or from his new wife?"

   Dalley shrugged. "Everything is as usual."

   "Excellent."

   Some servants helped Merlin and Nimue settle in to ad­ joining rooms in the best wing of the castle; Arthur would be housed nearby when he arrived. They had a light meal, then Merlin took a short nap. When he was up again he asked a servant, "Where is the queen?"

   "The—the queen, sir? She is in the Great Hall."

   "Fine. Thank you. I must go and have a talk with her."

   The Great Hall was in the octagonal keep at the heart of the castle. Merlin headed directly for it. Servants, soldiers, the dozens of people that keep a castle alive, all seemed to recognize him and clear the way for him; some even bowed, which made him feel odd. Then he reached the hall.

   The heavy oak doors were closed. Inside, it was nearly pitch black. The only light came from two torches that burned fiercely at either side of the queen's throne. She sat there, barely moving, dressed in heavy black robes. The scene was odd; there were only two servants, or retainers or whoever, in attendance on her. For a moment he was not sure it was Guenevere; she looked small, frail.

   Merlin stepped into the hall. In the vast space his foot­ steps echoed. From the direction of the queen's throne came a soft voice, which despite its low tone echoed even more clearly. "Merlin. You may approach." There was the faintest French accent.

   Softly he laughed. "I may approach? Exactly whose prisoner do you think you are?"

   "Prisoner? You mistake me, Councilor. Typical English dullness."

   The voice was not Guenevere's, despite its French ac­ cent. He moved toward the throne and realized it was Leonilla seated there. There was about her the oddest still­ ness. Behind her, in the near-darkness, servants moved. "Queen Leonilla. You must excuse me. With two queens in residence, mix-ups are bound to occur."

   "Not too close. Do you want to be dazzled by my enor­ mous beauty?"

   "Your beauty," he told her in an ironic tone, "is being heavily cloaked by this thick darkness you have arranged. Shall I have some servants bring more lights?"

   "No." The word hung in the air as if it was made of granite. "All queens are beautiful, regardless of age or the light. It is a matter of definition."

   "Naturally." He continued his approach. "Age does not touch royalty. Everyone knows that."

   "Do not come any closer."

   He kept walking.

   "Stop, I say!"

   But he did not stop till he was five feet from her. Ironi­ cally, with a sarcastic flourish, he bowed. "Welcome to England, Your Majesty."

   Leonilla held her hands up and spread her fingers so he couldn't see her face. The gesture was so much like what he'd expect from a shy young girl he found himself mildly startled. Yet despite her demure gesture he was able to get a good glimpse. And despite her coyness she looked more like a living Egyptian mummy than he would have thought possible. The effect was more than mildly unsettling.

   "I would advise you to take me more seriously, Merlin. You must remember me. At any rate, you must know my reputation."

   "If you plan on killing everyone who notices your age, Leonilla, you will not have many followers left."

   "People die anyway. The tactful ones will remain."

   "Spoken like a true French queen."

   For the first time she moved, inclining her head slightly toward him. The gesture seemed, odd, disjointed, unnatural, like a movement by a marionette. "I remember your imper­ tinence from our meetings a decade ago. I should have had you murdered then. It would have saved so much trouble with my idiot son-in-law. I had a first-rate strangler in my employ, one of the
hashishin
from Aleppo."

   "Had? What happened to him?"

   "Someone strangled him."

   He paused; he could not let her take control of their con­ versation. "You are sitting on Guenevere's throne."

   "Your jailers have confined her to her rooms. The throne was not being used. It seemed a waste."

   "You always were ambitious. It is a pity you did not marry better."

   "Leodegrance has been a disappointment, yes. But he has had his uses and will again."

   "They say you were a great beauty when you were young. You still are, of course. But you could have had any throne you wanted. Alexandria, Rome, Byzantium even— they were yours for the asking. Yet you chose Leodegrance, the ruler of a backward French province. What could have possessed you?"

   Softly she laughed. "Love, shall we say?"

   "If Your Majesty chooses." Merlin made himself smile. "But love is no rival for ambition. You had most of France and all of England in your sights."

   "You are suggesting that I have political designs? A simple woman like me? I weave homespun and do embroi­ dery. I cook and bake and polish my husband's silver. I am the picture of a dutiful wife."

   Merlin laughed. "And how
is
King Leodegrance?"

   "Asleep. Nursing his royal arthritis. He is aging badly."

   He had to work not to smile at the irony of this. "I trust your crossing was good?"

   "As well as can be expected, given the Channel's treacherous winds and currents. We used a Byzantine ship." She smiled faintly to make certain the point wasn't lost on him.

   But he refused to be intimidated. "Your own navy is in such disrepair?"

   "Surely you know better than that. The dimmest spy in Europe could have told you otherwise. Do you remember our meetings ten years ago?"

   "With the greatest pleasure, Leonilla."

   "You recall that one of your servants had an accident in our stables?"

   "He was kicked by a poorly trained horse, as I remem­ ber."

   Leonilla did not speak for a long moment, did not even move. "It was a warning to you. After all this time you have still not taken it."

   "You are confessing?"

   "Can you believe it?" She looked slightly away from him. "All these years I have maintained my reputation chaste, intact. I have been suspected of this and that, but there has never been any proof. Suddenly I feel as if I've disrobed."

   Grateful she had done no such thing, and hoping to see something like life in her from a better angle, he took a step to one side. "I am an old man, Leonilla. And you have a generation on me. Surely it is time for you to stop this kind of scheming. It seems so . . ."

"Unqueenly?"

   "Let us say unseemly. Undignified. One reaches a sta­ tion in life where all the games that mattered in youth seem foolish, to say the least."

   "You think power is a game? You think the will to rule is foolish, as if it were better to be ruled? That is dangerously close to blasphemy."

   "Then call me infidel."

   "My royal husband has never been—how would you say?—never been much of a husband to me. But I have had my crown for comfort. If it is not as great as the one I might have had . . . well, what is size?"

   Merlin glanced at the servant who stood behind her on the right. For a startled moment he thought it was Nimue, dressed in a gleaming suite of ceremonial armor. Then he realized it was a strikingly handsome young man. Despite himself, Merlin found himself wondering . . . But no, surely even Leonilla must be past that.

   "That is my servant, Jean-Michel." Oddly, she grinned. "Also lurking back there is my maid, Marthe. You may ig­ nore them both."

   "I fully plan to do so. But you . . . Are you planning to sit here in the dark all day long?"

   "It is the only throne in the castle. And I am the only queen."

   "Guenevere might not agree."

   "My daughter, like her father, has been a disappointment to me in so many ways."

   "As I'm sure you have been to her. You promised her England, and look what she has come to. None of your promises to her were worth the air it took to speak them." He made a sweeping gesture that seemed to emphasize the room's gloom and emptiness. "We have dinner at six. I will see you then."

   "I have not dismissed you."

   "And I have not asked you to. The birthday celebration

does not begin for two and a half weeks. It is unfortunate that you chose to arrive so early. But I hope you enjoy your stay, Leonilla."

   "Leave my presence."

   Not hiding his amusement, he went.

   From behind him, he heard her voice. "Jean-Michel. My shoulders are sore. Rub them for me."

   Just as he left the Great Hall, Merlin spotted an old man coming down the corridor toward him. For a moment he thought it must be a stranger, perhaps one of the townsmen hired for the celebration. Then with a start he realized who it was. "King Leodegrance—Your Majesty."

   The man was alone and unattended. He shuffled toward Merlin as rapidly as his apparent infirmity would allow. Merlin made a slight bow; Leodegrance was the true power, after all, at least officially.

   "I imagined you would be here, Merlin."

   Uncertain what to say to the old man, Merlin repeated, "Leodegrance."

   The king narrowed his eyes. "You didn't recognize me. It's all right, Merlin. Time has not been kind. I know that. Would you believe I'm six years younger than my wife?"

   "Leonilla is not exactly ripe for plucking, herself." Mer­ lin looked back over his shoulder into the Great Hall, hop­ ing she hadn't heard.

   "Except perhaps by the Grim Reaper. Be grateful you don't have to see her in her bath." The king paused and looked into the dark hall. "She is in there?"

   Merlin nodded. "Seated on her daughter's throne."

   "My poor wife. The trappings of power are all that is left to her."

   "And to you, Leodegrance? You keep letting her concoct these absurd plots against Arthur."

   "They are my plots as well, but never mind. Plotting is what kings do. Arthur should expect it. In Persia they play a game called chess, in which little imitation knights and no­ bles try to topple the opposing king. We play the same game, only for real. My wife sent for me. She wants to see me."

   "She told me she had one of my grooms murdered ten years ago."

   "Grooms?"

   "When I was at your court, making plans for the royal wedding."

   "Grooms? What do I know about grooms? They hardly matter."

   "This one was a fine young man, tall, handsome and strong. I have always heard that Leonilla had a habit of killing her lovers, tossing them away like leftover scraps of food. Do you suppose that was the motive here?"

   The king hardened. "I'm afraid I have no such recollec­ tion, Merlin."

   "I see. Perhaps you should go in and attend your lady wife."

   "Yes. She wants me. She sent for me."

   "You said. Go, then."

   And so they parted ways. Merlin told Nimue about his encounters later, over dinner. "And soon enough the entire castle will be filled with people like them. It is going to be such an interesting birthday party."

   "Appropriate for Guenevere, would you say?"

   "Appropriate for the Spider's House, at any rate."

Three days later Arthur arrived, attended by his squire Gref­ fys, Britomart, Petronus and Simon of York. They all had a quick meal, and Merlin made it a point to sit with Brit. In a low voice he asked, "How is he?"

   "Sober, thank god. He says he knows it is time for him to act responsibly. But he is still melancholy. Sometimes his mood is so dark it frightens me."

   "I'll find some pretext to talk with him and see if I can­ not help, somehow."

   Later they all gathered around a table in Arthur's quarters for a conference. Merlin brought them all up to date on de­ velopments at the Spider's House, as he insisted on calling it.

   Then Brit explained to him and "Colin" what had been happening at Camelot. "There have been a few more letters from the various courts. Routine things. We handled them ourselves—there didn't seem to be a need to consult with you."

   "Everything is happening as it should, then?" Merlin asked.

   "The Armenian legate wants rose water for his bath. Your friend Germanicus requested that books from the royal library be made available to him. And there's more in that vein. Easy requests—nothing of any moment. But—" She paused dramatically and took a deep breath. "There has been another incident. Another bloody dagger found on Arthur's pillow."