J. Blair - The Pendragon Murders

“Please, sir, on this journey to Wales. Everyone has heard about it. I want to go.”

Merlin peered at him. “First, tell me who you are.”

“Who I am?” The boy seemed puzzled. “I am Marian’s son. You remember.”

“Yes, I do. But which one?”

“Oh. Oh, that. I am Robert. I’m afraid I forget that my brother and I look alike.”

“You are twins.”

“Wayne loves having a double. I hate it. I always have.”

“I see. And how does your mother feel about it?”

“She loves having twin sons. She encourages us to dress alike, talk alike, do everything as similarly as we can. I have always disliked it. Very much.”

“Then?”

“Mother is a strong-willed woman. She wears me down. Wayne sides with her. But I have never liked being one of identical sons. I never will. That is why I want to come on this journey. It will get me away from them, at least for a time. And for that time I can be myself. I don’t get many opportunities for that. I want to be Robert, not part of a set.”

Merlin sighed. “I see. Families. My own was no bed of roses. Still-how would your mother feel about this?”

The boy stiffened. “Does that matter?”

“Possibly to her.”

“I’m old enough to be on my own.”

“Yes.” A faint smile crossed Merlin’s lips; Robert was not certain what it might mean. “I suppose you are.”

“Please, sir. I can be your valet. I make a good personal servant. You won’t be sorry.”

“My valet.” Merlin turned the thought over in his mind. “Yes. I deserve a bit of pampering.”

Eagerly Robert said, “I’ll pamper you. I’ll see to your every wish.”

Merlin ruminated briefly. “Yes, you may accompany us.”

The boy beamed. “Oh, thank you, sir.”

“You can thank me by being a good valet.”

“I will, sir.”

“First, I want you to go and find Simon.”

“Simon of York?”

“Exactly. He is probably over in the King’s Tower. He clings to Arthur like a barnacle to a ship. Tell him you’ll be coming along. And find out when, exactly, we will be leaving. Then come back here and let me know.”

“Yes, sir.” Robert jumped to his feet. “I can’t wait to have this time away from Mother and Wayne. Thank you so very much.” He dashed out of the room, leaving Merlin to wonder what life would be like with a personal servant.

Later, he told Nimue about it. “I have never had a valet before. It will be an interesting experience. I only hope he does not cling to me too fussily.”

Nimue was wry. “Does he know what he’s in for? Does he know what a curmudgeon you are? Does he know how foolish you think this journey is, and how irritable that will make you? Within two days, he’ll avoid you like the-” She caught herself.

“The plague?” Merlin smiled ruefully. “If only avoiding the plague was that easy. Now if you will excuse me, I want to get some sleep. This journey is likely to be long and frustrating. If I am not rested, I will never survive it.”

An hour later, Merlin crawled into bed. The night was chilly, and he always slept with his windows open so his birds could get in and out, so he pulled a fur coverlet over himself and curled up for what he hoped would be a good night’s rest.

But almost at once there came a knock at his door. He sat up wearily. “Yes?”

The door opened and Robert looked in. “Excuse me, sir. I was sent to fetch you.”

“Sent? By whom?”

“By Simon of York, sir. You are wanted-by the king.”

“By Arthur? What the devil does he want? If he has been drinking again-”

“I don’t know, sir. I was told to say please excuse the late hour, but you must come at once.”

“In the name of everything human!” He climbed out from under the cover. “Hand me my clothes. And fire up the boiler for my lift. Do you know how to do that?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid not.”

“Drat. I will have Petronus show you, as soon as possible.”

Ten minutes later, assisted by Robert, Merlin climbed the spiral stairs to the King’s Tower. Halfway up, they encountered Simon.

“Merlin.” The majordomo smiled too widely for it to be genuine. “And his new valet. How nice to see you.”

“How did you know I’d taken a valet, Simon? It only just happened tonight.”

“It is my job to know everything that occurs in Camelot.” He smiled again, pleased with himself. “The boy came to me and told me he’d be accompanying you on the journey. He said you sent him. I questioned him at length.”

“You sound awfully smug about being a busybody.”

“In the service of the king.” Simon lowered his eyes in mock humility.

“Anyway, what on earth does Arthur want at this hour?”

“There is a visitor.”

“What?! You got me out of bed for that?”

“It is Peter of Darrowfield.”

“Oh.” Merlin turned to Robert. “Give me your hand. We ought to get up there quickly. Good night, Simon.”

Moments later he was at the door of Arthur’s study. He told Robert to wait outside, arranged his clothing so it looked neat, not disheveled, and went in. Peter was there, with the king, still dressed for travel and covered with dust from the road. They both smiled when they saw Merlin, and Peter stood.

“Peter. How wonderful to see you here. Does this mean you have found Lord Darrowfield’s murderer?”

“I regret not. No, Merlin. I came because I have not received any communications from you for more than a week.”

“I have written every day.”

“So His Majesty tells me.”

Arthur rubbed his hands together and poured goblets of wine. “We have just been discussing the situation. Apparently someone has been interfering with our couriers.”

“I see. And whoever it is must be the killer.”

“I thought so.” Peter took his wine and drank deeply. “Naturally I thought you should know. I’m afraid my inquiries have gone nowhere. But if we can find out who’s been doing this…” He left the sentence unfinished and took another drink.

“And who is protecting the village and the castle while you are here?”

“I have two deputies. I have trained them quite thoroughly. Darrowfield is in good hands.”

“I see. How is Lady Darrowfield?”

“Wracked by grief. More for her sons than for her husband, but even so… She is not too mournful to work at consolidating her position as Lord Darrowfield’s heir.”

“She wants the fiefdom for herself?” A look of concern crossed Merlin’s face.

Peter nodded.

“I have just been telling Peter about this journey we’re making.” Arthur drained his cup and poured himself more. “We won’t have time to get a full report from him. There is too much for him to tell. The murders, whatever has been happening to our envoys… I’ve suggested that Peter come along with us. He can ride in your carriage and give you all the information you require. Unless you’d rather wait till we get back for Peter’s report.”

“No, no, it will be fine, of course. It has come as a surprise, that is all.”

“Government is always a matter of surprises, Merlin.” Arthur drained another cup.

“Please do not remind me. Or, if you must, at least try not to sound so hearty about it.”

“Stop grumping at me.”

“Well, it is late, and I need my rest. I will see you both in the courtyard tomorrow morning, then.” He found Robert and went back to the Wizard’s Tower and bed.

And so the next morning, well before dawn, the party assembled in Camelot’s main court. Dozens of people-squires, knights, servants-were there, forming up in a rough line, some to accompany the king, some to see him off.

A score of Camelot’s knights, dressed to the teeth in their armor, though no one anticipated much danger, strutted about, jockeying for position; each of them wanted to ride as close to the king as possible. Arthur had solved the problem of their constant bickering within Camelot by adopting his famous circular table. But once they were outside the castle, it was a free-for-all. Perceval was there of course, to guide them to the place where he had found the Stone. And Bors, Gawain, Kay, Agravaine, Accolon, Lionel… they squabbled like old women after succulent fruit in the marketplace. Merlin watched them with detached amusement.