J. Blair - The Pendragon Murders

Once the party was moving again, Arthur rejoined Merlin in his carriage. “You heard about that young couple we found?”

Merlin smiled. “The copulating couple, yes. Word filtered back along the column before they were out of sight.”

“Strange thing. She was a good-looking girl. Downright pretty. The type of woman I’ve always found attractive. And her invitation could not have been much bolder. But I had no sexual thoughts at all.”

“Perhaps you could become a Christian monk.”

“Stop it. All I kept thinking was, ‘My bastard children-I’ve made too many of them already.’ ”

“Perhaps there would not have been a child, Arthur. These country women are very good at that sort of thing.”

“There was no temptation at all, Merlin. None.” He seemed astonished to hear himself saying it.

“You are getting old, Arthur. Or growing wise, which is not always the same thing.”

“Something you said yesterday has been haunting me. Daughters.”

Merlin looked at him quizzically. “You said it, not I.”

“I must have some. I mean, if only by chance, some of the children I’ve fathered would be-”

“You are wondering where they are? And what they are like?”

“Exactly, Merlin.” He looked at the old man. “Tell me, do you ever regret not marrying?”

“No, never. I could never give a wife the attention she deserves. Half of my life is inside my head. I could never be fair to her.”

“But… but a daughter. To help you? To take care of you? Even a stoic like you would have to find comfort in that.”

Merlin grew uncharacteristically dreamy. For a moment his eyes had a faraway, hazy look. “A daughter, yes.” Then he snapped out of it. “I hope our messenger reaches Camelot quickly.”

“Your talent for changing the subject amazes me at times.”

“I have not changed it.”

“Don’t get cryptic on me, Merlin. Here.” He had a wineskin hanging at his side. “Have a drink of this. It will warm you.”

“No, thank you, Arthur.”

“Another blanket, then, to help cover you.”

“I am fine. Winter is the truth.”

“If I lose you to pneumonia…”

Merlin laughed. “I am made of heartier stuff.”

“If you had a daughter…”

“Arthur, go and lead your knights.”

Progress continued at a slow pace. The skies remained fair but the cold, driving wind never let up. The terrain changed from thick forest to low, sparsely treed hills.

Here and there along the way they spotted more love-makers. Couples, groups, some naked, some fully or partially clothed, some mature, some young, some not much more than children in the first flower of adolescence. Many of them seemed to be drunk in the bargain. None of them seemed to mind being spotted.

Along the column there was more and more talk about it, some disapproving, some not. Gildas lectured everyone who would listen about sin; most of his target audience laughed at him. But everyone was as fascinated as he by these brazen copulating people.

In time they reached Smalfalcon. It was not much more than a widening of the road, with a few small houses and a barn or two. Dogs, pigs, chickens ran loose in the street. Naked children chased them happily.

A mature man in rags, his arms around a bare-breasted woman young enough to be his granddaughter, waved and approached. “Hello. If you’ve come here to plunder, go right ahead. Take anything you want. Take any one you want. There is no need for any violence.” He held up a cup. “Have some wine. Enjoy life, as we’ve learned to.” He kissed his young woman and she kissed him back. They became lost in their embrace, oblivious to anything else.

Bedivere spoke to shake them out of it. “What is this place? Is this really Smalfalcon?”

The woman looked at him and laughed.

“Your children and your livestock are running unattended.”

Her companion joined her laughter. “They already know how to enjoy themselves. It is we adults who have to re-learn.”

Slowly other residents of the hamlet were appearing. Most were quite naked. Most were drinking. Most stared at the column of knights with frank indifference. Here and there couples engaged in sexual play. Merlin left his coach and joined Arthur at the head of the column.

Finally Arthur spoke, in his best command voice. “What kind of town is this? Where are the elders? Who is in charge?”

The man who had approached them originally spoke up. “I suppose I am. I am the mayor. Why do you care?” His female companion left his side, tore off her clothes happily and joined a trio of revelers.

Bedivere told the man who Arthur was. “You should display more decorum before your king.”

“Decorum? All that is over with. We’re dead men.”

“The air is frigid. Why is everyone unclothed?”

“Why should the dead bother with clothing?”

Arthur watched the woman and her new companions. “That’s mighty lively activity for corpses.”

“Have you not heard? There’s plague in England. It’s going to take all of us.” He took a hearty drink.

Arthur looked back along the column. A few of his men had dismounted and seemed to be joining the more forward of Smalfalcon’s residents. Sir Sagramore was in the process of removing his armor. A handful of squires and servants, already half undressed, were romping with the locals, kissing, fondling…

Bishop Gildas shouted an order to them to stop. They ignored him. He rushed to Arthur’s side. “Arthur, sire, we must put a stop to this rampant immorality.”

Arthur was equally concerned at the breakdown in discipline but amused at Gildas’s intensity. “How, would you suggest?”

“Order them to stop, that is how.”

“Gildas, you are a man of the world. You’re an Italian, for that matter. Surely you must realize that no order known to mankind can stop hormones from flowing.” He looked back along the line of men. “And frankly, I’d say they aren’t simply flowing but beginning to gush.”

Gildas frowned. “But this kind of carnal lust-”

“I’ll see what I can do, all right?”

The bishop, mollified but sullen, went back to his place.

Arthur conferred quickly with Bedivere and Merlin. “I hate to admit it, but Gildas is right. We can’t permit this.”

“They are knights, yes, Arthur, but they are men, too.” Bedivere was eyeing a red-haired young man wistfully.

“I would suggest,” Merlin offered, “that we simply move on. Quickly, before this takes hold of more of our men. It will be hard enough to stop it now. If we let it get further out of hand…”

Arthur sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right. Bed, give the order to form up. We’ll move out at once. It does seem a pity to waste all these willing young women, though.”

“The young men seem equally willing. Not to mention the old ones.” Bedivere was getting caught up in the carnal atmosphere. “Look at that trio over there.” He pointed. “Not one of them can be under sixty.”

The trinity of merrymakers disappeared behind a cottage. Merlin scowled at the place where they’d been. “At their age.”

“There are times,” Arthur goaded, “when you sound more like Bishop Gildas than either of you would like to admit.”

“Do not be rude, Arthur. Let us get moving and complete our mission as quickly as we can, so we can get back to Camelot. We have a ‘sacred relic’ to bury, remember? Or is it a blasphemous pagan idol?”

Arthur scowled. “Look at what the plague is doing. And it hasn’t even struck here yet. We have to do what we can to stop it. Come on, Bed, let’s get the men back in order and move on.”

And so with some difficulty Bedivere got everyone back into the column. There was grumbling. Many of the men considered him a spoilsport anyway; this only confirmed that opinion. But Bedivere pointed to Arthur in his gleaming battle armor to remind them of their duty. And the column moved on.