J. Blair - The Excalibur Murders

“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.”

“No thank you, sir. But I heard what you said about my losing not just my brother but my other half, my other self. That is so true. I can’t remember a time when he was not there, beside me. My memories stretch all the way back to the cradle and our mother, Anna, and there was always Borolet next to me, warming me, comforting me with his presence. Last night the world seemed completely empty to me. If King Arthur”-he nodded in his direction-“had not held me and calmed me, I would have gone mad.”

So it was Ganelin they had seen in Arthur’s window. Nimue and Merlin exchanged glances but kept silent.

“So you see,” the squire went on, “it’s important to me to help find the one who did this… this awful thing. Please, let me help.”

Arthur stood up and gestured to his seat; Ganelin obediently sat down.

“I can help, really I can. I can find out things none of you can.”

Mark wanted to laugh; it showed in his face. Happily, Ganelin didn’t notice. “You’re a boy. A squire, not even a knight. What can you do that we can’t?”

“I know people who would never talk to any of you. Not willingly, anyway.”

“Who?” This time he did laugh. “The other boys who carry our spears?”

Softly, Ganelin said, “The servants.” He looked around. Now no one was laughing. “We were practically raised by them. Our mother pledged us to the king’s service when we were ten. The servants raised us, taught us court protocol- taught us everything. We learned who matters and who doesn’t. Who to obey promptly and who we could safely ignore. The servants know everything that happens in the castle. If there are alibis, they are the ones who can corroborate them or give them the lie.”

No one was at all certain how to respond to this. But it made perfect sense.

Ganelin turned to Merlin. “Please, let me help. They trust me; I’m practically one of them myself. I want to help bring my brother’s killer to justice.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, who looked back. Neither of them could think of a reason to keep Ganelin out of the investigation. Arthur put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Yes, of course we want you to help. But you must remember, Ganelin, you have other duties as well. You are still my squire.”

“I won’t neglect my duties, sir.”

“And you must promise to share everything you learn with Merlin, and to do so immediately. He is in charge of this investigation.” He looked around the table. “That goes for the rest of you, too.”

There was a general murmur, though neither Britomart nor Mark seemed happy about it.

“Promise me, all of you.”

They did so, one at a time.

“I don’t want any of you working alone. Whoever did this is vicious, maybe even mad.”

“Like Pellenore?” Brit said, voicing her suspicion.

“Pellenore?” Arthur frowned, obviously not liking the thought. “He’s a harmless old fool.”

“Is there such a thing as a harmless fool? In the town where I grew up there was a fool, a complete imbecile, who used to go wild when he saw the gleam of precious metal. How do we know Pellenore isn’t the same?”

“He’s been here for years, Brit. We’d have noticed by now.”

“There isn’t much point to us investigating if you’re going to reject possibilities out of hand, Arthur.”

He took a deep breath. “I know it.”

“Pellenore left the Great Hall before the ceremony got under way. He was galloping about the castle as usual, screaming about bogeymen. And in his day he was a warrior. He knows how to handle a broadsword.”

“Why not let us investigate,” Merlin interjected, “and bring our results to you? We could spend the whole day spinning theories. But we need facts.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “I want all of you to be careful. This is a killer, after all, and possibly a madman. Don’t let anyone know you’re investigating.”

“When we start asking questions,” Brit said, “they’ll know.”

“We must never ask directly what we want to know.” Merlin was in teacher mode. “We must be clever. Indirect. We must learn what we want slyly, carefully.”

Arthur turned thoughtful. “Exactly. And-suppose this. Suppose I make an announcement that Mark is conducting an official investigation in my name? He will conduct one for show, and that will leave the rest of you to do the real work.”

“Am I in, then?” Ganelin sounded quite unsure of himself.

“Yes, Ganelin. You are one of us.” Merlin smiled. “And I’m certain you’ll be a great help.”

“Good. I mean, thank you. If I might say something…?”

“By all means, Ganelin.” One of the ravens flapped to Merlin’s shoulder, and he stroked its head.

“Well, sir, it seems to me you’re making some assumptions that might not be valid.”

Mark laughed. “Oh really? What are they?”

“Be quiet, Mark.” Brit shushed him impatiently.

“Well…” Ganelin looked uncertainly around the room. “You’re assuming the criminal must have been after the skull and the shrine and the king’s sword out of greed. Is that necessarily so? And you’re assuming it must be someone who left the Great Hall.”

“He can hardly have committed the crime while he was still there.” Mark laughed again. Merlin crossed the room to him and took the wine cup firmly, pointedly, out of his hand.

“No, sir,” Ganelin went on. “He-or she-couldn’t. But there were certainly people who simply never went to the hall.”

Everyone looked at one another, startled and abashed that it hadn’t occurred to them.

“I mean, unless someone was keeping a roll of who attended, that is.”

“You’re right, Gan.” Brit seemed pleased he had thought of it. “Everyone who matters-everyone who is anyone- was at the hall. We think. But-”

“It’s the kind of thing the servants will know, if anyone does. As I said, I can be a help to you all.”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt about that at all.” Arthur glared at Mark, warning him not to make any sarcastic comments. Then he took another cup of wine and drained it in one swallow. “I have to go. I have to preside at court today. There are sure to be peasants squabbling over livestock. I have such important matters to judge.”