by Jack Porter
“And what did you say?” Meghan asked, her voice sounding not quite as casual as it had been before.
“I told him no,” I said.
“And why was that?” Meghan asked.
“It’s too big,” I said. “Too important. I never wanted to be a king.”
Meghan was quiet for a time. “Is that all?” she asked finally.
I shook my head and offered a sigh. “No, that’s not all. And I can’t help but think back to Rolf. Whenever we did a job, it was always his plan. Never my own. I can’t help but think that this is the same, that I would be just going along for the ride.”
Meghan managed to nod even with her chin held in place. “And?” she asked, and I had the distinct feeling she was testing me in some way.
“And how could I trust him? This virtual stranger offering to put a crown on my head? How would I know that his intentions are as he said?” Then I voiced the thought I’d had at the time but hadn’t expressed. “You don’t offer a crown to the guy you talk to in a tavern. Not a real one, anyway. Rolf’s spymaster wasn’t looking to offer me Arthur’s throne. He was asking me to help him remove Arthur from power. And there is a difference.”
“Yes, there is,” Meghan agreed. “If all this spymaster wanted was someone with a claim to the throne, then he is looking to use you.”
It was my turn to nod. “That’s how I see it.”
We both lapsed into silence for a time.
“And yet,” Meghan added after a bit, “you are still thinking about.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Not really. But I am looking for a purpose beyond simple revenge. And I thought you would have something to say.”
But to my surprise, Meghan shook her head. “It is not up to me to give you your purpose,” she said. “If I thought it was, don’t you think I would have told you who you are?”
It was a good point. Yet it wasn’t entirely helpful.
“So that’s it?” I asked. “You’re not going to say anything of use?”
The enchantress smiled. “You know who you are. You understand both the possibilities and dangers inherent in your blood. You are no longer the child you were when I took you away from the castle. You’re all grown up now, and with that comes the right–and responsibility–to make up your own mind. Your future is yours to make of it what you will.”
The words resonated within me as though they were a truth handed down from the gods. I knew she was right. At the same time, I couldn’t help but offer her a glare, an expression of my frustration that she hadn’t provided a more useful response.
Meghan le Fay was completely immune to that frustration. She just grinned more broadly. “You don’t have to figure it out right away,” she said. “You’re on the right path. You have figured out enough to not trust this spymaster and the offer he made. That should be enough to keep you from making too many mistakes until you figure things out for yourself.”
The way she said it, with just a hint of condescension, at first made me laugh out loud. And then I decided I couldn’t let her get away with saying things like that. So I flipped her off me and onto her back, and with a full measure of mischief and glee, set to tickling her mercilessly until we were both rendered helpless with laughter.
12
It was early the next day when I headed back into town. The clouds were light enough that I could actually see patches of blue in the sky, and I found myself humming a tune as I strode along. I still didn’t have any real answers, and yet I felt buoyed, as if the weight of my problems had been lifted from my shoulders.
Spending some time with Meghan had been just what I needed to put a spring in my step, and I felt like I could move forward with my life even without figuring out my purpose.
As Meghan had said, I didn’t need to figure it all out at once.
As an added bonus, Meghan’s potions had served their purpose. While not fully cured, my bruises, cuts, and various scrapes had faded to the point where I barely noticed their existence anymore. Even the newest ones, the scrapes on my knuckles from where I had beaten them against Rolf’s head, were well on their way to healing.
As I worked my way along the roads, I promised myself I would try to see Meghan more often, even if the visits were always shorter than I wished. There always seemed to be too much for me to do in Camelot.
Like finding Anwen. Enough time had passed since I’d started looking for her that there might be information waiting for me to collect. So I took a circuitous route back to the Goose and Quill, talking to a few of those I’d asked for help. Once again, it was Samuel the street urchin who gave me the information I needed, even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
I don’t know exactly how he found me. But I had known for some time that he didn’t work alone—his references to the boys were enough to tell me that. So perhaps I had been spied by one of his boys when I entered the market, and word had spread.
All I knew was that I spent a few minutes wandering about, enjoying the market atmosphere that didn’t even contain a hint of rain, and barely making an effort to lift coin from the passersby, when suddenly, the street thief hissed at me from a narrow alley between the stalls.
I looked casually about to make sure I wasn’t being overtly observed, then ducked into the alley and greeted the boy with a grin. “You have something for me?” I asked him, but that was as far as I got.
“You might want to keep your head down for a bit,” Samuel said, his expression hard and serious.
I didn’t understand the intensity with which he spoke. “What do you mean?”
He cocked his head to one side. “You’ve got no clue, do you?” he asked.
I really didn’t like the boy’s expression. “If you tell me what you’re on about,” I said, “then I will.”
The boy studied me for a second, then held out his hand with a grin. “It’ll cost you.”
“Of course it will,” I said with a hint of a laugh. “The question is, will it be worth the price?”
Despite my words, I trusted Samuel’s judgment. If he had something to say, then I wanted to hear it. But I didn’t exactly want him to know my thoughts on that matter. Samuel had the heart of a merchant and the soul of a banker. He would bleed me dry without even blinking if he knew how far I was willing to go.
“When has it not been?” the street thief returned, his voice confident and knowing.
I nodded. “Tell me what you know.”
“Coin first. You ain’t going to like this one, but you still need to hear it.”
At the boy’s words, I feared he would tell me Anwen was dead. It was the only piece of bad news I could imagine. But I reached into my coin pouch and dug out a silver nonetheless. He was right. I needed to hear the words, even if I didn’t like what he said.
The silver disappeared as if by magic, and Samuel grinned. “Thought you’d like to hear it from me before some Blackcoat or other spots you and bundles you up.” He didn’t give me a chance to ask what he meant, instead just telling me what he knew. “There’s a story doing the rounds. It’s new yet, but it’s catching. Turns out, our dear old King has a surviving child after all.”
As soon as I heard the words, I knew Samuel’s news had nothing to do with Anwen at all, and everything to do with me. My heart lurched in my chest, and I couldn’t help but breathe a question, “What have you done?”
But I wasn’t talking to Samuel. In my mind, I was talking to Rolf’s spymaster.
Samuel understood that my question wasn’t for him. He raised an eyebrow and paused, but I gestured for him to continue.
“Want to guess who they say this bastard might be?” Samuel asked.
I didn’t want to guess in the least. Didn’t have to. Despite this, I still needed to hear it.
“Tell me,” I rasped, surprising even myself with the hoarseness of my voice.
Once again, Samuel understood more than just my words, but my need as well. He stopped messing about and just spoke plainly. “Rumor is that t
his bastard’s name is Mordred, and that he goes by Mordie. Apparently, he was supposed to be killed a couple of months ago, but that he somehow survived.” The street urchin looked cleverly at me. “The description to go along with the rumor doesn’t do you justice. Slim, bearded, regular features and green eyes. But I reckon it’s close enough to do the job.”
The boy’s gaze flicked from me to Sir George on my shoulder, then back again. “Although I think you were lucky they didn’t mention your pet there as well. Not many people wander about Camelot’s streets with a rat dragon taking roost on their shoulders.”
I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath. That old bastard! In one move, Rolf’s spymaster had made my life much more difficult than it had to be. Desperate to find out the limits of the damage, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Where did you hear this?” I asked the boy. “Who is looking for me?”
It seemed that he was enjoying my discomfort, even if only a little. He grinned. “You didn’t tell me you were the King’s Bastard,” he said.
“I didn’t know! Not that it’s of any real use. You’ve heard the stories as well as anyone. You know what happens to the King’s Bastard.”
Samuel’s expression grew serious once more. “That I do,” he said. “Well, you ain’t gonna like this either. I heard it from one of the Blackcoats. It seems that orders came from Sir Lancelot himself. They’re looking for you. They have orders to find you and take you to Lancelot himself.”
I felt my teeth clench together and knew that my hands had turned into fists. My mouth was dry, and I didn’t know exactly what to do. My first instinct was to run, to hide, to get away from Lancelot’s men. But before I could do even that, there was one more thing I needed to know.
“And what of Anwen?” I asked, even though my need to find out what had happened to her had suddenly become less urgent. “What have you found out about her?”
At this, Samuel’s eyes left mine for the first time. He looked away and offered a shrug. “Nothing,” he said. “I haven’t heard a thing.”
I didn’t know if that was good news or bad. I stood there seeking further inspiration but knew there was none to be had.
“Thank you,” I managed, and for Samuel, that was enough. He gave me a nod, and without another word, turned to go. But before he vanished into the stalls for good, he half-turned toward me again.
“Look after yourself,” he said. “I’d miss not having you around.” He scrutinized me for a moment. “And you might want to start by raising your hood. It wasn’t the best of descriptions, but you’re known around here. You might want to keep your face hidden.”
And then he was gone. I stood there for a few moments more, shocked at what he had said. Then, almost automatically, I did as the boy had advised and raised my hood despite how pleasant the weather had become. Then, keeping my head low and moving furtively, while also trying to look out for Blackcoats, I scurried along, doing my best to stay hidden throughout the rest of my journey.
13
Ever since my hanging, I’d kept to myself a bit more. Remained in the shadows and stayed away from places where I could be seen. I’d grown my hair and beard out, and was a bit leaner as well, but the last thing I needed was for a Blackcoat to recognize me when they all thought I was dead.
This was different. Now, instead of worrying about it, I thought about just heading back to Meghan’s place and waiting for the news to fade. Maybe she had another potion to change my appearance, one that was a little more permanent than the last one she had given me.
In the end, I decided against it. There were things in play that I needed to be Mordie for, the most important of which was Anwen. And more than that, I didn’t want to run and hide at the first hint of trouble.
I had spent much of my life avoiding Blackcoats for one reason or another. Sure, they had seldom had any direct interest in me before, but this problem wasn’t much different. I mean, it wasn’t as if the Blackcoats would start conducting full on searches. They would be much more likely to just keep an eye out for me as they continued their day-to-day tasks.
But that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for them.
I kept my hood up and stayed in the shadows as well as I could. And, over the next few days, I quietly visited my usual haunts, pressing for information about Anwen when I could, but also making a point to get a sense of where their loyalties might lie if push came to shove.
As ever, Rosylin from the Twin Barrels proved a reliable barometer.
She saw me as soon as I stepped foot in the tavern, and as had happened in the past, her face lit up at the sight of me.
I knew she was about to greet me in her usual fashion, by shouting my name across the tavern floor for anyone and everyone to hear. So I brought my finger up to my lips in a gesture for silence, and mercifully, the buxom barmaid understood. She held her tongue and approached before greeting me with a grin and a hug.
I didn’t need to tell her what was going on. Instead, she told me.
“I was wondering when you might pop your nose back in here,” she said, her voice quieter than normal by some margin. “You will not believe the rumors I have been hearing about you since you have been gone.”
I turned her away from the other tavern guests so they wouldn’t get a good look at my face, and mustered a grin that was barely a shadow of my usual one.
“Oh, I think I would,” I said.
The buxom barmaid looked at me with an expression of surprise. “It’s not true, is it?” she asked, looking at me sideways.
“Well, that depends on what you’ve heard, doesn’t it?”
She gave me a saucy smile. “All sorts of things. But mostly, it’s a rumor about the blood you carry in your veins. And who the original owner of that blood might be.”
I nodded. All my life, I’d been pretty good at knowing just what to say, but this was a unique situation.
Rosylin was my friend, my lover, and one of my informants. I would do much to keep her on my side, but if I thought she might choose to chat with a Blackcoat instead…
I would have to cut her out of my life.
At the thought, I realized I really didn’t want to. Sure, Rosylin was more of a casual thing than what I had with Meghan, but she was–so far at least–loyal and fun to be around. I didn’t want to lose her.
“What if it was true?” I asked, striving for innocence and playfulness.
She saw through it without even batting an eye. She smiled, grew serious, then smiled again. “Are you really asking me that? Do you really think for a moment I would tell anyone who you are?”
She was actually a little hurt by the thought, and I felt instantly guilty. But I had to be sure.
“If it was true, then me even being here could be dangerous for you and the others,” I said. “What if one of your customers recognized me and talked to a Blackcoat? What if they came around asking questions?”
Rosylin waved her hand and made a noise of derision. “Humph,” she said. “Look around. Most of the customers here have less interest in talking to Blackcoats than you do. Although,” she added, becoming serious once again, “I have to admit, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to sit at our best lit table with your foot down.” Then, back to her usual self, her grin broadened and she raised that saucy eyebrow again. “That said, you don’t have to leave right away. There’s a spare room upstairs. I’ll have one of the girls bring you up a drink and a meal, and when it goes quiet, I can come up and tell you what I’ve learned about this Anwen of yours. Although, in truth, that isn’t a lot.”
“And if a Blackcoat or two happen to show up?”
“Then I’ll use some of my feminine wiles,” she said, thrusting out her chest, “and keep them distracted for long enough for you to get clear.”
I was satisfied. I gave Rosylin a broad grin, patted her on the behind, and made my way up to the indicated room.
Over the next several days, I learned that the rumor a
bout who I was had spread far and wide, and that there were few, if any, who intended to talk to the Blackcoats at my expense.
It filled me with quiet appreciation for the people in my life, even as I did my best to keep my head down. Yet all was not perfect. I could accept the increased risk to myself, but others could not.
On my first day back from Meghan’s, Big Jacob approached me as I was eating a meal at the most out-of-the-way table in the Goose and Quill. The easy going giant took the seat opposite me without asking. I couldn’t complain. Since I was there living and eating mostly free of charge, and there was the matter of what I kept in the cellar below.
As it turned out, it was the matter that Jacob wanted to discuss.
“I’ve been hearing talk,” the big man began. “People are saying that the Blackcoats are going door to door. They are looking for you and for Rolf. And one other person. Anwen.”
I looked at him in surprise. I hadn’t heard that the Blackcoats were going that far.
But then, if what Jacob said was true, it wasn’t just me I had to worry about.
I swallowed, not liking this new piece of information one bit.
“And?” I asked.
The big man hesitated. Ember was away once again, talking with suppliers. Apparently, there had been an issue with the latest batch of cocoa, and she was trying to source a second delivery to make up for it. Or, if she couldn’t do that, then she would need to strike a deal with one of the other taverns that had started to offer it.
I wondered if Jacob had deliberately waited for Ember to be gone before approaching me. Either way, it wasn’t as if his concerns weren’t real.
“And I was starting to wonder how long we were going to keep our downstairs guest where he is,” he continued.
“The Blackcoats are looking for him. And me as well,” I said, keeping my expression blank.
The big bigger man grimaced. He held out up his hands as if to placate me. “It isn’t about you. I figure if anyone comes calling, you can dive out a window quickly enough. They’ll never find you here, and you can count on me to tell them that you might have been here once or twice, but that the last I heard, you’d moved on to the other side of the city.” Jacob offered me a conspiratorial grin, and I understood that the big man enjoyed the imagined deception.
