J. Blair - The Excalibur Murders

“How can you keep a creature as disagreeable as that? It’s a little fiend.”

“That is no way to talk about my pet, Arthur.” She stroked the ape’s head and it nuzzled her.

“A fine pet. Why not simply get a cobra?”

“We tried to leave because we are miserable. Sleeping on floors, rationing food… A fit ruler would have planned for this.”

“You think it’s possible to control the weather?”

“No, as I said I think you should plan for it.”

One of her servants rummaged through one of the packs in the corner. Merlin watched as the young man took out a piece of cheese and ate it happily. “Arthur, look.”

Taking in the scene, Arthur turned on Guenevere and bellowed, “Food?! This is your idea of roughing it? Guenevere, you are the most staggeringly dishonest human being I have ever known. It’s no wonder you shattered your wedding vows.”

“Lower your voice, husband. Remember your royal dignity, will you?”

“I want to talk to Lancelot.”

She was offhand. “I’m afraid I don’t know where he is.”

“Guenevere, I am warning you. Do not attempt to leave Camelot again until I give permission. I plan to double the guard at the gates. There is no way you’ll get out.”

“You are holding me prisoner?”

“If you want to think of it that way. I have more-and more important-things to deal with than your comfort and convenience. If you wanted everything to revolve around you, you should have stayed in Corfe.”

Slowly, she put her letter aside and stood up. Even more slowly, she walked to a little table and picked up some knitting. She took one of the needles and pointed at her husband with it. “Do not threaten me, Arthur. Do not even think you have the power to frighten me. I shall leave when I choose to leave, and neither you nor your men nor this would-be wizard will stop me. Understand that.”

For the first time, Merlin got between them. “Guenevere, this is for your own safety. You saw what happened when you tried to leave a while ago. It is treacherous out there.”

“We can calculate our own risks.”

“Then think of it this way. A crime has been committed. At least one of your men is under suspicion. It is to your benefit to remain till we can clear his name.”

“No clearing is needed, as I see it.” She looked to the king. “Arthur, you know you can’t keep me here against my will. Do you think my army would stay at Corfe then? We will leave when we choose. If you expect otherwise you are a bigger fool than I thought.”

“You think your knights would go to war over a suspected murderer?”

She bristled. “So it is that. I had nothing to do with it. Nothing.”

“And Lancelot?” Merlin asked.

“And Lancelot, and his squire Petronus, and my maid, and the assistant pastry chef.” She paused then said emphatically, “We were not involved.”

Arthur sighed loudly. “A young man is dead, Guenevere. We will find the killer. And your behavior here has only made me more suspicious that you and your lover may be involved.” He put on a sarcastic grin. “Understand that.”

He and Merlin turned and stormed out of the room before she could respond.

The snow and ice stopped, but the weather remained cold. Arthur sent a male servant out to try to reach a nearby village for food; the man never came back. No one knew what to make of it.

But as Merlin had said, the snowy weather gave him and the others in his investigative group the chance to learn what they could. He and Nimue stalked their suspects relentlessly, seeking them out on various pretexts, making casual conversation, dropping subtle references to the crime to see what reaction they got.

There were several more encounters with Guenevere, who grew colder and more distant each time. Pellenore proved as unstable as ever; none of his reactions made a bit of sense.

Then finally, they managed to corner Lancelot. He was exercising in one of the unused dungeons, repeatedly lifting over his head a heavy stone he’d found. A torch he’d wedged into a crack in the wall gave the only light. Nimue, holding another torch, whispered to Merlin that the dungeon might be a harbinger of things to come for Lancelot.

“Why, Lancelot. How interesting to find you here.”

He put down his rock. “Hello, wizard.”

There was no use arguing the point. “Do you know your way around here? Arthur asked me to find a manuscript in the palace archives, but I’m afraid we’re quite lost.”

“You should see the lower levels of Corfe.”

“Will you walk with us for a while? Just to be sure we don’t get lost? These passageways can be so confusing.”

The knight looked at his stone as if he might miss it. “Well… all right. But I really need to get back to my work-out. ”

“We wouldn’t dream of keeping you a moment longer than we need to.”

So the three of them took their torches, left that dungeon and walked the dark, musty corridors of Camelot’s basement. Merlin made a show of opening one door after another, pretending he really was searching for something there. All the while he made offhand conversation, trying to get a rise out of Lancelot.

“There’s not much traffic down here since Arthur abandoned torture.”

“Arthur is a fool.”

“You think extracting false confessions from innocent people is a desirable thing?”

“I think it works. Criminals confess.”

“Under torture, everyone confesses. Besides, you should be glad we don’t do that here, if only for Guenevere’s sake.”

“Guenevere is the queen.”

“Even so.”

“What crime could she be suspected of?”

Instead of answering, Merlin paused, pushed open a door, looked inside then closed it again. “A broom closet.”

Lancelot answered his own question. “That boy. That squire.” He said the word with faint distaste, as if squires were beneath his notice.

Merlin tried another door, but it was stuck.

“Guenevere couldn’t have killed him. She was with Arthur in the Great Hall the whole time. You know that.”

“Oh yes, that’s right.” Merlin looked thoughtful for Lancelot’s sake. “But what about her servants?”

“They’re servants. Who knows what they do?”

“And-and-” He convincingly acted as if he were having a new thought. “Where were you during the ceremony? ”

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “I was there.”

“Someone saw you leaving the hall. I was only wondering where you went, that’s all.”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Of course not. I was only making conversation, nothing more.”

Lancelot didn’t know whether to believe him, and it showed.

“Well, there don’t seem to be any archives down here. Arthur must have been mistaken. We’ll leave you to your exercise, then. We’ve never really talked before, Lancelot. This has been nice.”

The knight looked around. “Where are we? I’ve lost my bearings.”

“I told you, it can be terribly confusing down here.” He smiled a benign smile. “Just head back that way. And have a good workout.”

They left him standing in the passageway, looking bewildered. Whether he was baffled by the castle’s layout or the encounter he’d just had-or both-was impossible to say.

But as they were climbing the stairs back to ground level, Nimue whispered, “You’re right. Guenevere has two apes.”

For all this time, Mark was conducting his “show investigation, ” asking pointless questions, bothering everyone he could, in hopes of diverting attention from the ones who were really probing the crime. Merlin, Nimue and Britomart were prying as subtly as they could, asking a pointed question here and there then backing away from it, trying to get some idea who might have killed the squire. But they had no more success than Mark, who wanted none.