“Of course, Arthur. But how will you persuade the nation to use your coins? Can you imagine Marmaduke, for instance, requiring his subjects to convert to this new monetary system?”
“Marmaduke is on his way to jail.”
“But how many other Marmadukes are there, in how many corners of Britain? How many of them will follow your dictum to use coins with your portrait?”
“They will, in time. You’re my policy advisor, for heaven’s sake. You’re supposed to find ways to implement my policies, not find reasons why they won’t work.”
Merlin shrugged. He wanted to point out that Arthur’s potential heirs were dying at an alarming rate, but it seemed wiser not to raise the issue.
Another messenger from Camelot caught up with the party. Among other missives, he had another letter for Merlin. But this one, surprisingly, was not from Nimue. It was from Merlin’s other assistant, Petronus.
Merlin,
I am writing because I know that you wanted to be informed of events at Camelot. Colin asked me to send you this letter. He wanted me to assure you that everything is under control here and that the news from the surrounding countryside continues favorable.
Ships putting in at our ports carry rumors that this plague has been deliberately spread by the Byzantines. Whether that is true or whether people are being unduly suspicious, we have no way of knowing.
Colin is not writing himself because he is ill. He has developed a severe cold and has spent the last two days in bed. But please do not worry. It is only a cold, nothing more. And Marian of Bath and her son Wayne are tending him.
Your student and assistant,
Petronus
Merlin grew immediately alarmed. He took pen and paper and wrote a response.
Petronus,
Do not under any circumstances permit Marian and Wayne anywhere near Colin. Another messenger is on his way to Camelot with instructions to arrest them on suspicion of murder. If by chance this should reach you before that other messenger does, take this note to Simon at once and see that they are arrested.
Merlin
He had the note countersigned by Arthur himself, so that Simon could not question its authority, then sent it off, with instructions to the rider to rest as little as humanly possible and reach Camelot as rapidly as he could.
Arthur was puzzled by the urgency. “Why should you be so concerned about Colin? No one thinks he is one of my sons.”
“With so many of your… possible successors eliminated, you may have to look elsewhere for the next… ruler. Colin is bright, educated, thoughtful, perceptive. You could do much worse than to name him.”
“I hardly know the boy.”
“That is not the point. It is not merely your bloodline that is under attack. It is the very concept of English stability and continuity. How well did you know John of Paintonbury?”
“Point taken. But-”
“I am not suggesting that you actually should adopt Colin as your heir, mind you. There would be too many… complications. But you have littered the country with children, Arthur. Whether you did it to spite Guenevere or simply because you are a robust young man is irrelevant. Colin has reached a position of some authority at Camelot. He is being trained by me-by your chief advisor-and has assumed a great deal of responsibility. How could anyone not suspect…” He let the thought trail off, unfinished. Nimue had become like a daughter to him. The thought that Arthur’s indiscretions might have put her life at risk was too awful for him to think about. “Let us hope one or the other of our messengers reaches home before anything terrible happens.”
Arthur fell silent. After a moment of quiet thought, he uttered softly one word. “Daughters.”
“I beg your pardon, Arthur?”
“Nothing. Just a passing thought. I ought to get back to my horse and the head of the column. The knights there are carrying banners that announce me. I ought to be there.” And he left the carriage quickly.
But the next afternoon he picked up the theme again.
A ferocious wind had been blowing, but at least the constant rain and snow had let up. Arthur and Bedivere rode side by side at the front of the column. Suddenly out of some bushes ran a young woman. She was in her late teens or perhaps her early twenties. She had blond hair and flashing blue eyes. And she was completely naked. On seeing the approaching knights, she darted back into the underbrush.
Arthur shouted, “After her!” Two men detached themselves from the column and spurred their horses into the dense brush. A moment later they returned, holding her between them. She was fighting like a cornered bobcat.
Seeing how many knights there were, she quieted. Staring directly at Arthur she asked, “Which one?”
Arthur had no idea what she meant. “I beg your pardon, young woman? I am Arthur, King of all England.”
Unexpectedly she stood up tall and proud. “Never mind all that. Which one of you wants me first?”
Arthur and Bedivere exchanged puzzled glances. Bedivere told her, “You are under some misapprehension, miss. We are not here as raiders or conquerors. This man is your king.”
She laughed. “I want you, too. All of you, or as many as it takes to wear me out. Come on. Let’s get at it. There are enough of you that this will take all day and all night.” She turned back to the bushes where they had taken her. “Tom, come on out. There are a lot of them, and from the looks of them some of them will want you, not me.”
A young man, about her age and blond like her, stuck his head out timidly.
“Come on, Tom, hop to it. There are some nice ones, too.”
Tom stepped forward out of the bushes. He was her age or perhaps a bit older. Like his companion he was quite naked.
Arthur turned to the nearest of his servants. “Get them some blankets and some boots. It is far too cold for… for that state.” He turned to the woman. “Who are you? What are you called?”
“Gillian.”
“And what place is this, Gillian?”
“It is called Treasel.”
He exchanged glances with Bedivere. “Those damned old maps of ours.” To Gillian he said, “We are seeking a place called Grosfalcon. Is it nearby?”
“About ten miles. Just past Smalfalcon. Come on, what are you waiting for? Get that armor off and let’s get to it.”
“I’m afraid that is out of the question. I am-suppose there should be a child?”
“None of us will live that long. The plague is coming.”
“But-”
“We will be dead soon enough. Are we going to get down to some lovemaking or aren’t we?”
“No, we are not.”
“Then let us go, so we can get back to it. It’s your loss, King.”
The man Tom had been standing just behind her. He pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. “We were making love.”
“So we gathered. In this awful weather? You’ll catch pneumonia or worse.”
Tom shrugged. “It doesn’t make any difference, does it?”
Puzzled, Arthur told him, “No, I suppose it doesn’t. You say this road will take us to Grosfalcon?”
Gillian nodded. “Just stay on it. If you don’t want me-” She winked at Tom. “If you don’t want us, there will be plenty of others there.”
Arthur was more and more bewildered by their manner. “We have told you, we’re not a conquering force. We-”
Tom pushed his hand inside Gillian’s blanket and began to fondle her. She laughed and they both ran off into the undergrowth.
One of the knights made to follow them but Arthur told him to leave them alone. The column resumed its forward progress. “At least we know we’re on the right road.” He called for Perceval to join them. “Does any of this territory look familiar?”
“No, Majesty. I approached it from the south when I found the Stone. But I did hear of a nearby town called Smalfalcon.”
Bedivere was working with the maps. “There doesn’t seem to be any indication of it.”
&nbs
p; “Grosfalcon isn’t much of a place. Smalfalcon must be even smaller.”
“Excellent deduction.”
Perceval kept an eye on the bushes, hoping for another glimpse of the lovers. But there was no sign of them. “It can’t be much more than a few old farms. Grosfalcon is not much bigger than that.”
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 anyone 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. Com
e 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.
Away from the hamlet, the people and their carnal activities were less in evidence. Here and there among the trees a couple or a group would be seen, copulating gleefully. Those of them that saw the line of soldiers waved. Gildas registered more displeasure with each incident.
At one point the trees thinned out and a small lea appeared. In it was a man cavorting with a sheep. Gildas spurred his horse to Arthur’s side and sputtered. “This… must… be… stopped.”
Arthur was amused. “We’re in the country, Gildas. Even in normal times-”
“It is a violation of God’s law!”
“Then I suggest we leave it to God to punish it.”
“But-but-”
“What’s wrong?” Bedivere was laughing openly at the bishop’s fervor. “Can’t we trust your God to enforce his own laws?”
Gildas sulked, fell silent and returned to his place in the column.
In his carriage Merlin was only vaguely aware of everything that was happening. But he could see how unhappy Gildas was, and it pleased him. Every time he looked out of the carriage and saw the frowning bishop, he chuckled.
“Do you really think you should ridicule him so openly?” Peter asked.
“Gildas is a fool.” Merlin laughed. “As if there was some way to persuade people to stop enjoying themselves.”
“But… but a sheep! Really, Merlin.”
“I would not worry, Peter. There is no danger the sheep will get pregnant.”
“That isn’t the issue, and you know it.”
“What I know,” Merlin told him calmly, “is that anything that annoys that man cannot be all bad.”
“His religion has moral standards. Is that such a bad thing?”
Merlin switched to his schoolteacherly demeanor. “The greatest ‘Christian’ power in the world is Justinian’s Byzantine Empire. Or ‘Roman Empire’ as they so grandly call themselves.” He wrinkled his nose. “Most of its grandees could not find Rome on a good map.”
The Pendragon Murders Page 23
