J. Blair - The Excalibur Murders

The king paced some more. Then abruptly, he stopped and declared, “Lancelot. It must have been Lancelot.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“The boy was his squire. He’d have seen his defection as a personal affront. And you said he had left the Great Hall the night Borolet was killed.”

“That is perfectly possible, of course. And do you think the queen put him up to it?”

“Damn.” It was perfectly obvious to Merlin the king did not really want to think about any of this. “There’s no way of knowing, is there?”

Calmly, Merlin told him, “We’ll know in time. Patience and reason are our allies.”

Arthur tossed what was left of the sword into a corner and walked to the window. “You know what I want.”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

“Do we have your permission to investigate Mark?”

Arthur sighed; Merlin had never heard him sound quite so weary. “Do what you have to.”

“You didn’t send him to Corfe, then.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. Of course not. Go to Cornwall and see what you can find out.”

“Arthur, you’re going to have to do something about him. Until and unless we can demonstrate clearly that his presence at Corfe was innocent-that he was there looking to gain access to the harbor for his tin shipments or some such-it would be a mistake to keep him in charge of the army.”

Arthur paused. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think it isn’t the first thing that occurred to me?”

“Then do it. Come up with some pretext and start easing him out of power.”

He eyed a wineskin on a corner table then seemed to think better of it. “But how? If he is a traitor, I hardly want to put him on his guard before we act. And if he isn’t, I don’t want him to suspect we think he might be.”

“Oh, the problems of being king.” Merlin smiled at him. “You wanted this, remember?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be so complicated.”

“Everything human is. Especially when subtlety is required.”

“Don’t be so smug.” He seemed to be groping for something less highly charged to talk about. “You’ve been training Colin in medical treatment?”

“Some. Happily, not much real knowledge is required here. It’s mostly a matter of bandaging the boy’s wounds and keeping him off his feet till they heal. Of course, keeping a boy that age in bed for several weeks will be an interesting challenge, but I think Colin will be up to it.”

“Several weeks? For minor wounds?”

“I’m not completely sure we can trust him. He is from Guenevere’s court, after all. His defection could be a convenient fiction to cover spying.”

Arthur moved next to him and looked at the chart. “And this thing. Have you made any progress deciphering it?”

"Well…” Merlin was suddenly in his element; he put on his best teacher manner. “These crosses seem to be heading roughly in the direction of the refectory. If we can establish that Lancelot was there with one of the girls, then we’ve eliminated the first set of symbols and the first suspect. And I’m more and more certain the triangles represent Pellenore. They ramble all over the castle.”

“But if Lancelot didn’t kill Borolet and Ganelin, it doesn’t make sense that he’d attack Brit.”

“You said it yourself. The attack may have been unrelated to the earlier killings. It may have been about Petronus. Or maybe Lancelot realized Brit had gotten him drunk and talkative in a way he didn’t like. He confessed to constant infidelity to Guenevere. And of course Guenevere herself may have been behind the attack, if she suspected Britomart was seducing her man.”

“Or her man was the seducer. You think too much, Merlin. ”

“There’s no such thing as thinking too much. It’s what makes me useful to you.”

Arthur resumed his pacing. “Go to Cornwall. Find out why Mark was there.”

“First, Morgan, I think. She and that wizened weasel of a son of hers will be easier to eliminate.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You think Mark is the villain.”

“I think there’s a good chance of it. But I’ve been wrong before.”

“I can’t imagine such a thing.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Arthur. You must understand what that means. We have a terrible problem. He’s the military commander. A good many of the knights will be loyal to him. Removing him-arresting him-will be tricky. You need hard, absolutely irrefutable proof.”

“Find it. Whether it’s Mark we’re after or not, find it. Do whatever you want. Go to Byzantium and investigate the emperor if you must. But find me the killer.” He glared around the room. “And get me my sword back. And the Stone of Bran.”

Merlin stopped at the door. “Oh, and about that school for the squires and pages?”

“Later, Merlin.”

The mood throughout Camelot was subdued. Brit, Nimue and Merlin were all determined not to let out word that they were on the trail of the twins’ murderer. The official story was that they were simply running some errands for the king. But people knew better, or at least suspected. Maintaining an official silence was becoming difficult. And there was a certain amount of tension: who was suspected? Even the servants were on edge.

Merlin made his way back to his tower, stopping to chat with various people, nearly all of whom tried to find out why he’d gone to Corfe, what he’d found there and why he’d come back with one of the squires from Guenevere’s court. He fielded all the questions quite tactfully, so that no one realized how evasive he’d been till after he’d moved on.

He found Nimue in Petronus’s room, checking bandages. He said good morning to her then asked, “How are you feeling this morning, Pete?”

The boy was smiling. “I’m at Camelot. I’m to be Britomart’s squire. How could I not be happy?”

“Believe me, it could happen. Are your wounds giving you much discomfort?”

“They itch.”

“That’s a good sign. It means they’re healing, and quickly.”

“Good. Can I go out and exercise with the other squires?” He shifted his weight in the bed.

“You are to remain in bed and in this room until I give you permission to do otherwise. We want you well and healthy. Do you understand?”

“But I feel fine.”

“You’re to do as you’re told. We have one rebel to deal with; we don’t need another.”

“Rebel?”

Merlin had let himself forget that the boy knew nothing about the Stone of Bran and the murders, and that he’d decided not to tell him yet. Nimue covered his slip. “I’ll tell you about it later, Pete, all right?”

Merlin asked her to join him in his study, and they climbed the spiral stairs together.

“I’ll prepare a calmative potion for you. Put it in his food or his drink and it will make him less restless.”

She laughed. “And easier to control?”

“To the extent boys that age can be controlled at all, yes. And I’ll prepare a salve to help his wounds heal. Have you had a chance to talk with Greffys?”

“Just for a moment or two. I don’t think he’s found out much.”

“He hasn’t been talking to the servants?”

She nodded. “He has, but he’s out of his depth.”

“Then it’s just as well you’re staying behind. Have him introduce you to the more talkative among them and see what you can learn. But remember, be discreet. Be indirect. We don’t want to put anyone on his or her guard.”

“I know what to do.”

“I want to move quickly. Brit and I will leave to visit Morgan tomorrow morning. If you can find the girl who was with Lancelot, or at least someone who knows definitely that he was with a girl, we will have eliminated one suspect, at least.”