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   "Guenevere." Brit took a step toward her.

   But the queen ignored her and spoke to Arthur. "Release Lancelot."

   Arthur looked to Merlin, who in turn looked at Guenevere. "Is this sort of behavior supposed to convince us that what happened really was an accident? Might you not at least have had yourself announced first?"

   Guenevere ignored Merlin. Her eyes were fixed on the king. Slowly, more loudly and with emphasis she repeated, "Release Lancelot."

   Once the startling effect of her entrance died down, Ar­ thur relaxed and put on a slight smile. "I beg your pardon? Did you say something?"

   "You heard me perfectly clearly. Set him free."

   "It would be an odd monarch who let assassins loose."

"Monarchs don't come any odder than you, Arthur."

"So you think insulting me will help your case."

   Merlin leaned forward in his seat. "I believe His Maj­ esty is wondering why you think he would do such a thing."

   "Because I have commanded it." Suddenly her manner softened and she added, "And because Lancelot is innocent and I think you all know it."

   She looked around the room. Neither Arthur nor any of his councilors said a word.

   Brit spoke up. "His Majesty is also wondering how you managed to escape your guards."

   "Shall we say they were . . . indisposed by some bad wine they drank?" Realizing that she was making no pro­ gress, she changed tactics. "Once you have caught a ven­ omous snake and bottled it up, Arthur, you have the knotty problem of what to do with it, haven't you?"

   Merlin decided he was in no mood for this. "I'm afraid we don't follow you, Guenevere."

   "Lancelot and I are already your prisoners. Release him from that horrible dungeon, or—"

   It was clear from Petronilla's attitude that she had no idea what the queen was about to say. She listened intently and made mental notes on the exchange. Merlin glanced at Britomart as if to ask,
Are we certain we can trust this
woman?

   Guenevere went on. "We are at the start of the largest, most important diplomatic event England has ever wit­ nessed. You expect to make great gains here with the na­ tions of Europe. But if the serpent you are holding bares its fangs . . ."

   "Just what we need," Arthur told her. "A serpent, or a pair of them, slithering loose in Corfe Castle right now. I can always put the serpents, both of them, into an even more secure bottle. This castle's dungeons are deep and secure. And I have other castles."

   "Jailing your wife in the midst of this conference? Yes, that will certainly increase England's prestige across Europe. Do it."

   "Be serious, Guenevere." Merlin adopted a tone of cold authority. "These are diplomats. They understand treason. Besides, you are in no position to be making demands. To be perfectly frank, you should count yourself lucky you still have your head."

   "I swear to you, Arthur, I will disrupt this conference and your plans for it any way I can. The least hint of trou­ ble will interfere with what you are hoping to accomplish. And if you jail me, there are enough people here with at least some loyalty to me who will gladly do it on my be­ half."

   Merlin waited till she finished, then sat back in his seat and put on a warm smile. "Who exactly do you think you might influence? Your would-be allies the Byzantines have not appeared yet. And we have managed to acquire no in­ telligence about where they might be. Do you think the Moroccans and the Latvians care about you and Lancelot?"

   "Lancelot and I are not the issue. You want to impress the Mediterranean world. Will anyone be impressed once rumors start circulating about the disarray here?"

   "If the source of those rumors is in jail, they might be."

   Finally Arthur got between them. "I think Guenevere has a point, Merlin. A small one but a valid one. We should have moved this gathering to Camelot or to one of our other castles. Keeping it here has given my wife a stronger hand than she could have ever had otherwise."

   Then he turned to Guenevere. "There is enough doubt to call into question whether Lancelot was actually attempting to harm anyone. But I can hardly return him to the suite of rooms you were sharing, not after what you've just said." He smiled the least sincere smile he could manage. "He will be moved to rooms of his own, in another wing of the castle. Both he and you will be under constant guard, and it will be heavier than anything you have known till now. Be advised, wife. If anything remotely untoward occurs involv­ ing the two of you, you will be moved immediately to the deepest, coldest dungeon in Scotland, birthday or no birth­ day. And after that . . . we shall consider what your pros­ pects are." With a mordant grin he added, "Not good, I would think."

   Guenevere's attitude changed. She softened; she looked almost girlish. Her voice turned sweet. "Arthur. Arthur, you wouldn't do that to me. I thought you loved me."

   "You married Lancelot, remember? Should I love an­ other man's wife, then? The two of you have already been more trouble than I ever should have permitted. I should have had your heads the first time I caught you plotting against me. Be grateful the love I used to have for you lasted as long as it did."

   It was almost possible to see Guenevere's mind racing, turning over the options and strategies. But she clearly real­ ized her hand was not as strong as she'd thought. She smiled a gentle smile and asked, "You will release Lance­ lot, then?"

   "Release? Within the confines of his rooms, yes."

   Conflict showed in her face. What she was about to say was plainly difficult for her. In a low voice, slowly, she said, "Thank you."

   Arthur signaled to a pair of his guards and told them, "Take the queen back to her suite. And this time see that she stays there."

   Brit got to her feet. "Wait—I'll come along. I want to see what happened to those guards. They should never have taken wine from Guenevere."

   "Wine." Arthur broke into an enormous grin. "I knew there was something missing from this meeting. Simon, send for some."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

   Merlin rolled his eyes and leaned his head back. Bri­ tomart had managed to sober the king up; one encounter with his wife and he was drinking again.

The remaining delegates arrived—minus Podarthes, of whom there was still no news. A Turk in enormous baglike trousers came, attended by a dozen boys, in whom he had a fairly over erotic interest.

   There was a legate from somewhere in Eastern Europe; at any rate that was the best guess anyone could make—he spoke a language like nothing anyone at court had ever heard. Even the other delegates were at a loss to fathom the things he said. But he carried an invitation, one addressed to the warlord of Estonia.

   Merlin and Nimue were quite certain they had not in­ vited him. But they made him welcome. They had sent out pro forma invitations to a great number of minor countries, and they assumed one of them must have found its way to him somehow. Nimue identified herself to him and asked him to follow her to his rooms. "You are from Estonia, then?"

   "Lithuania," he replied, beaming enormously.
"Ninga­
turkman holo duk."

   "Oh. Of course."

   She tried Latin, Greek and French, but he just kept re­ peating,
"Flausenthum."

   Britomart was concerned that admitting someone who had, apparently, not been invited, constituted a breach of security. But Merlin was not so certain. "Suppose he turned out to be important? I know how improbable it sounds, but . . . Let us admit him and keep an extra careful watch on him."

   Brit's expression as he said this was half smirk, half scowl. "Lithuania."

   "Look at him, Brit. He could not appear more harm­ less."

   "Of course. Today, Lithuania; tomorrow, the world."

Late in the afternoon on the day before the queen's birth­ day, with the castle abuzz with activity, and with heavy autumn rain falling, an enormous black carriage was seen approaching in the distance. It was pulled by four jet-black horses, and the coachmen wore black livery trimmed with sable. Greffys ran to summon Arthur and Merlin. "She's here."

   "God, I was hoping she wouldn't come." Arthur moaned.

   "I'm afraid she has, sir."

   The carriage pulled into the courtyard and came to a halt precisely two feet from the main entrance. Its occu­ pant could step directly indoors and never feel the rain. Slowly a footman pulled open the door. A tall, pale woman wrapped in black fur stepped down and strode into the castle as if she owned it. A pack of servants ap­ proached her, obediently asking if she required anything. Merlin and Arthur were still halfway to the entrance; they scrambled to follow.

   "Morgan." Arthur called to her.

   Grandly she turned to face him. Huge sleeves billowed as she spread her arms. "Brother."

   "You've come. We weren't certain you would." They embraced.

   "In fact," Merlin added, "we were just about to give your rooms to one of the delegates."

   "You have so little faith in me. You always have. Where are my rooms?"

   "Someone will show you directly. You look fit, Morgan."

   "As do you. Both of you." She nodded condescendingly. "But—fit for what, precisely? I understand there is an up­ start here. A—what is the word?—'bishop' or some such, I believe he calls himself."

   "Yes." Merlin was in his element. "A legate from the head of the Christian religion in Rome."

   "What business could such a creature have in England? Here, we worship the true gods. We have since the begin­ ning of time, and the gods have served us well."

   "He says he wants to prepare us to meet his god in the afterlife."

   She glared at him. "When we die, if we have lived good lives, we go to the Hall of Heroes." Then she smiled in a conciliatory wau. "That is key to our worship."

   "When we worship at all," Arthur muttered.

   And Merlin added, "He is a diplomat, Morgan, here on a diplomatic mission. Nothing more."

   She turned icy. "You are quite certain? No one at court is contemplating—what is the term they use?—
converting
to this absurd faith? The man may find himself approaching the next life sooner than he thinks."

   "No one, Morgan, is converting to anything." Arthur was resolute. "Now, I expect you to behave yourself. The last thing I need right now is you making trouble. You are a member of the royal family, after all, and we have impor­ tant aims here. Thank heaven you left your chest of poisons at home."

   "I have a stripped-down version for travel. But you speak as if
I
were the usurper. I am devoted to England and its gods and traditions. If I use unorthodox means against our enemies now and then, it is in the service of my country."

   "Now, stop it, Morgan. I told you, Gildas is here as a diplomat, no more. He is not an enemy in any sense." Ar­ thur hoped he sounded convincing.

   "Excellent. He will present no difficulty then. Have one of your men fetch my luggage. Then have someone bring me food. If you kept the royal roads in better repair, travel could be so much pleasanter."

   Wanting to change the subject, Arthur asked about her son, Mordred.

   "He has chosen to remain at home. He expressed dis­ taste for the scheming and plotting that would certainly occur here."

   Merlin leaned close to Arthur and whispered, "He grew up in his mother's house. Who could know scheming and plotting better?"

   They watched her go, more than mildly startled at her overbearing entrance.

   "My sister has always been a bitch. Age isn't helping."

   "If you kept the royal roads in better repair, you could send her home much more easily."

   "Suddenly I feel like a young gazelle in a savage jungle."

   "That is all any of us ever are, Arthur. I keep telling you."

   "Try to keep your cynicism in check this week, will you? It's the last thing I need to hear right now."

   "Sorry."

   "And send a servant to tell Nimue I want Morgan in­ stalled next to that man from Lithuania. They'll make good company for one another."

The next day was officially Guenevere's birthday. First thing that morning, Merlin had his people spread word that something special was planned for that evening, for the opening ceremony of the conference. Naturally the castle was humming with speculation as to what it might be.

   When everyone gathered in the dining hall for their morning meal, the general air was one of conviviality. Peo­ ple ate, drank, socialized, table-hopped, whispered together. At the head table Arthur and Merlin watched it all, pleased. "Look at them," Arthur chuckled. "You'd never know what vicious rivals some of them are."

   "Unless you looked under their robes and found the knives and the poisons."

   "Be quiet, Merlin."

   Morgan entered the room and moved directly to Gil­ das's table. Within moments they were arguing, loudly, with violent gestures. Arthur rushed to the table and did what he could to calm things down. Finally he was com­ pelled to ask Morgan to sit at a table on the opposite side of the room.

   The servants brought breakfast. At a cue from Merlin, two musicians played a loud trumpet fanfare, the room qui­ eted and Arthur made a welcoming speech. "We greet you on behalf of England and its people, this land of harmony and peace."

   Several delegates whispered to one another about the long series of bloody wars Arthur had fought to take control and unify the country, but they were all too discreet to say so aloud.

   Once everything had settled down and people were busy with their meals, Britomart came in with a soldier; they went directly to Arthur. "This man is from our post on the Isle of Gibraltar."