Untitled (3 page)

   "Yes, Arthur?"

   "She has gotten married."

   For a moment everyone fell silent. No one even blinked for what seemed a terribly long time. Then Merlin said softly, "What did you say, Arthur?"

   "Married." The king looked away. "My wife has shat­ tered her wedding vows and married that French knight she bellies with."

   Brit unrolled the parchment on the table. "It's all here. Three weeks ago, she announced that she was dissolving her marriage to Arthur, and she and Lancelot went though a formal wedding ceremony. They exchanged vows, ex­ changed rings, exchanged gifts, even shared a huge cake with the people of the court. Their gifts to one another were ceremonial golden daggers with elaborately carved ivory handles, imported from France. Apparently they were pro­ vided by Queen Leonilla."

   "That was all? Those are paltry gifts for a royal wed­ ding."

   She looked up. "There is no record of what else they might have given each other. But if I know Lancelot, his to her was something cheap."

   "Not in that family," Arthur said ruefully. "I imagine they value murder weapons above anything else."

   "This is treason indeed," Merlin said, turning it over in his mind. "In a messy sort of way. But surely only the king can grant a divorce in a case like this."

   "Obviously."

   Merlin smiled a rueful smile. "Most women are miser­ able enough with one husband. If there is a woman alive who deserves two, it is Guenevere." He made a sour face. "Unless it is that horrible mother of hers."

   "Leonilla? My sweet bitch of a mother-in-law?" Arthur took a deep drink. "She rules her husband Leodegrance the way he rules his province—sternly and resolutely. What­ ever else she is, Guenevere is her mother's daughter. But I'm glad you find the situation so amusing."

   "I don't. But it is so unexpected . . . it is difficult to know how to react. Why would she have done such a thing?"

   "Why, to hurt me, of course. She never stops finding new ways. Other women do needlework; Guenevere spouts venom."

   Merlin took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. "The queen is capable of vindictiveness, to be sure. But she is first and foremost a political creature. She would not have done this unless she stood to gain by it. The question is, what exactly could such an act gain her?"

   "Wounding me. Making me more miserable than she al­ ready has."

   "It is not that simple, Arthur, and I think you know it."

   Brit spoke up. "This is the grossest kind of lèse-majesté. Arrest her. Send me to Corfe with a column of soldiers and we'll take them both. And put them on trial."

   "And execute them?" Merlin took the report and perused it.

   "If need be, yes."

   "Think for a moment, both of you." Merlin spoke with force. "Guenevere did this for a reason. A concrete political reason. We all know her. She is as shrewd and calculating as any queen in Europe. What she does, she does for advan­ tage." He sipped his wine pensively. "Guenevere is not the kind of woman to go off the deep end and marry a knight out of untrammeled passion. Especially not a knight like Lancelot, with no political connections other than her her­ self. There is more going on here than a defiant wedding. We need to understand what."

   "Whatever she is up to," Nimue said, "surely arresting her would put a stop to it."

   "That assumes she is the only one involved. These plots are never simple. Her parents must know about it—they've been involved in all of her treasons—and possibly some of their allies in France or elsewhere on the Continent, and heaven knows who else. The French have had their eyes on England for as long as anyone can remember."

   "But Guenevere is the key to whatever they may be plot­ ting, Merlin." Nimue pressed her case. "She must be. If we seize her—"

   "That is too simple by half, Colin."

   "I know this is going to sound odd." Arthur drained his cup and held it out for Greffys to refill. "But I don't much want to dungeon up my wife. Or burn her at the stake." He kept his eyes focused on the cup. "Or torture her. That is not the kind of England I've wanted to build."

   "Treacherous queens are as old as civilization itself, Arthur." Brit was growing vehement. "The history books are full of them. Augustus's wife Livia. Ahab and Jezebel. Jason and Medea. And kings who do not move to counter them always pay the price."

   "Even so, Brit. Say I seal her in a prison cell for the rest of her life. Say I torture her till she confesses responsibility for every tragedy since the fall of Troy. What would that do to all Merlin's fine diplomatic efforts to persuade Europe to take England seriously as a modern power? How barbaric would it make me look?"

   "Like a king." Brit spoke emphatically. "Justinian tor­ tures his enemies, and look at him. He is the strongest em­ peror since Augustus."

   "No. No, I think Merlin is right. There is something more going on than we know about."

   "Arthur, strike." Britomart's tone was beginning to grow heated.

   Calmly, Merlin got between them. "Think for a moment, Brit. Guenevere is already in jail, effectively at least. Corfe is a place of self-imposed exile from Arthur's court. She needs money. And she needs people as well—her courtiers keep abandoning her. Your own squire Petronus defected from her court, remember? None of that has stopped her plotting."

"She can't plot much in a jail cell."

   He sighed loudly. "Do you think you're the only one with secret agents? We have no idea who might be working for her." He snorted derisively and looked away. "Govern­ ment. Politics. I swear, as long as I live I'll never under­ stand all the games people play in the name of power."

   Arthur smiled a rueful smile. "Are you saying you no longer want to be my minister?"

   "Of course not, but—"

   "Merlin is right, Brit." Oddly the king was grinning like a schoolboy. "Guenevere can't do much on her own. Her army, such as it is, is too small, and technically the soldiers are mine anyway. She has fewer troops of her own than the king of Latvia. She needs allies. We must find out who they are."

   "But, Arthur—"

   "No, Merlin has the right idea. We must watch her and wait till we know more. Are your spies at Corfe reliable?"

   "Yes, of course. I'm quite sure of them."

   "And can you manage to get more inside the castle there?"

   "I think so. As Merlin said, she needs people. She can't be too choosy. I'll have Captain Dalley do it as quickly as he can."

   "Do it, then. And suggest to Captain Dalley that he post a cordon of, er, 'observers' around the castle. Not too close, not too obvious. But I want her watched."

   Merlin interrupted. "I can send Dalley some of my lenses. They will make it possible to watch the castle from a considerable distance, without anyone ever suspecting they are under surveillance. The trick, you see, is to use convex lenses. If you mount them in a framework—"

   "Excellent, Merlin." The king rubbed his hands together. "I want to know who comes and who goes, who might be up to no good. There is something happening, and my dear, loving, bigamous wife is at the center of it. And whatever it is, it will certainly end in death. We need to learn what is going on—and who else is involved. Let us hope it is not more of our own people. Mark's treason hurt me. Deeply. I don't want that to happen again."

   On that uneasy note the meeting ended. No one talked much as they left.

   Merlin asked Nimue to wait for him a moment. Then he collared Brit at the foot of the tower stairs. "You are assem­ bling a spy network? Why wasn't I told?"

   "Arthur wants security."

   "I am his prime counselor."

   "Even so."

   "What else do I not know about?"

   "How can I know what you don't know, Merlin?" She grinned and walked off breezily.

   "Brit!"

   But she kept going. Merlin looked to Nimue and sighed. "I should have stayed in Egypt. I was happy when I lived there."

   "Do you seriously expect me to believe that everyone in Egypt is devoted to learning? That there are no politicians there?"

   Unexpectedly, Arthur ran lightly down the steps and joined them. "I always wonder how a man as learned as you can be so naïve, Merlin."

   "You were eavesdropping." It was an accusation.

   "How could I not? Some voices carry. Besides, Brit wants me to master the art of espionage. I believe in start­ ing small." He grinned his boyish grin.

   But Merlin was in no mood for this. "I am not naïve." His voice was firm. "Whatever I am, I am not that."

   "Power is a drug, Merlin. Like sex, it is satisfying for it­ self. People—some people—lust for it the way boys chase after butterflies. For no other reason than that to have it is satisfying. You've never understood that. You're too besot­ ted with books."

   "Is this a confession, Arthur? Are you admitting that you are addicted to power?"

   "No." The king became distant. "I want power for the good it can do. But Guenevere . . . she wants it for itself, the way her dumb consort Lancelot pursues sex with scullery maids. Understand that, Merlin. It is government."

   "You are too cynical, Arthur."

   "Wearing the crown makes a man a cynic. Let's go to the dining hall. I haven't eaten, and I hear they have some good ham."

   "I will follow in a moment, if you do not mind. I want to have a word with Colin."

   Arthur headed off to dinner. Merlin turned to Nimue. "Thank you for waiting."

   She smiled. "I've already eaten, remember?"

   "Probably too much, as usual. You should exercise more."

   "Are you trying to hold me to the standard for women, Merlin? Or, a man named Colin, remember?"

   "While you can get away with it. People are gossiping. I've overheard two different conversations among servants who think you odd, who think you are hiding something."

   "Servants gossip. What of it?"

   "If they are talking about you, other people may be as well."

   She exhaled deeply. "And if they are?"

   "Think. You adopted this male disguise for a reason. If Morgan should even suspect you are living here as Colin, you will suffer the consequences. At the very least, she would demand you be returned to her court. She might force you to go through with that marriage to her son. And those are the benign possibilities. If she feels vengeful . . . You know as well as I do how vindictive she can be. Re­ member the chest of poisons she keeps."

   "What do you want me to do?"

   "Just be careful how you present yourself, in public. You

are the best assistant I could want. And for that matter you are a good friend. I hardly want to lose you."

So everyone at Camelot watched and waited. And two weeks later more intelligence arrived from Captain Dalley at Corfe. Merlin, Brit and the king sat in the king's study and went over this new report.

   Things had been unsettled at the queen's castle. Guenevere and Lancelot, though married, maintained sepa­ rate apartments. They did not often dine together. Lancelot insisted on this, apparently so he could continue his infidelities with every woman who gave him the opportu­ nity. Guenevere was oblivious to this, or she simply did not care. Still, publicly they were happily married royal new­ lyweds, and the court functionaries worked diligently to quash any gossip that suggested otherwise.

   Arthur listened, smiling grimly. "Good old Lancelot. Deny him what you will, he is consistent. And what about visitors? Has anyone suspicious come or gone?"

   Brit scanned the remainder of the report. "Apparently not. A pair of French trading ships docked in the harbor but unloaded their cargo and left within a day. That is all."

   "We need a navy. The French use our ports at their con­ venience, and we can never do much about it."

   "Can we afford one?" Merlin asked. "Ships are expen­ sive. Sailors expect to be paid, and we have none with any real experience. And heaven only knows where we'd find a naval architect in England."

   "We have tin and silver mines, remember?" the king said. "If need be we can raise our prices. And sailors can be found. Europe is full of them. We're an island nation, Mer­ lin. We need a fleet."

   For a moment everyone fell silent. Merlin scanned the re­ port and smiled a satisfied smile. "So there is trouble in para­ dise. Does it occur to you that we may not have to act at all?"

   Arthur took the report and stared at it. "What do you mean?"

   "She couldn't keep up her marriage to you. What makes you think this one will last?"

   "She is still my wife, repudiate me though she may. And she is laughing at me, she and her whole court. I know it. And when word of what she's done spreads through Europe—"

   "Let her laugh. She is still isolated. She still needs money. So she has exchanged vows with the man she has been fornicating with for years anyway. Not much has changed that I can see. Let us bide our time."

   Brit snorted derisively. "She's still a traitor. So her trea­ son is weak. What of that? I still say we should have im­ prisoned her the moment we got the news."

   But Arthur, following Merlin's counsel, was still reluc­ tant to move against her.

Several days later a huge storm blew up from the south Atlantic and strafed England with ferocious winds, drench­ ing downpours and even hail. The entire country came to a full stop for days before the storm finally moved on to rav­ age the Continent.

   Camelot leaked in enough places to cause mild alarm; the household staff were kept busy placing pails and pans to catch the water. Arthur's majordomo, Simon, a Yorkshireman, said he was worried that parts of the castle might actu­ ally collapse; but he was an alarmist and no one took him seriously. Once the storm passed it took nearly a week for the country to recover and for the flood waters to recede.