The Excalibur Murders

by J. M. C. Blair

  “There, there,” he whispered. “We’re not alone. We have each other, sweet thing.”

  Someone knocked at the door. He wanted not to be bothered that night, but he got up, crossed to the door and opened it. “Greffys.”

  The squire looked tired. He was wearing a shoulder bag. “Good evening, sir. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “I’m not busy at all. My little bird and I were just sitting and thinking.”

  “Oh. Should I-?”

  “No, come in. How are you feeling?”

  “Still shaken, I’m afraid.” Suddenly he seemed self-conscious. “Oh-don’t tell anyone I said that, will you, please? I’m training to be a knight. We’re not supposed to-”

  “Don’t give it another thought. What can I do for you?”

  He shuffled his feet, still feeling awkward. “The king asked me to come.”

  “I see. Is there some message?”

  “Not exactly, sir. I have this-”

  “Sit down, please. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some wine?”

  “Thank you, no. I just ate.”

  Merlin resumed his seat. The raven had not left his shoulder all this time. “I was just thinking that I really ought to give my pet a name. Do you have any ideas?”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid not. Everyone says I never have any ideas.”

  “Do you?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what it would feel like to have one.”

  “Not very pleasant, to tell you the truth. There are times when I wish…” He looked away; it was his turn to feel self-conscious.

  “Oh. Then I guess I must have a lot of them.”

  Merlin leaned his head toward the raven and it nuzzled him again. “Hmm… what about ‘Roc’?”

  “Roc, sir?”

  “It’s the name of a fabulous bird. Probably a myth, but… I heard about it when I lived in Egypt.”

  “Egypt?” Greffys face was blank. “Where is that?”

  “It’s a magnificent land at the far end of the Mediterranean. Colossal ruins. Strange, wonderful art.”

  “The-?”

  “The Mediterranean.” He had to remind himself to be patient; Greffys was only a boy. “The great sea that separates Europe from Africa.”

  “Africa?”

  “Never mind. Why did Arthur send you here?”

  The boy seemed relieved at the change of topic. “Well, I’ve found something.”

  Roc flapped from Merlin’s shoulder to the window and pecked at it. Merlin got up and opened it, and the bird flew off into the night. He turned to face Greffys. “They come and go in the most incalculable way. I keep studying them, trying to find some pattern, but I’m not sure there is one.”

  The boy was completely lost. He reverted to the comfortable topic. “I’m moving my things into Ganelin’s room. You know, just below the king’s chambers in the tower?”

  “Yes?”

  “I felt something odd in the bed. And there it was.”

  “It?”

  He opened his shoulder bag and produced a large scroll. “Here. I showed it to the king, and he said to bring it to you.”

  Merlin unrolled it on the table then lit a large candle. It was a roughly drawn, barely decipherable diagram. Merlin studied it for a moment and decided it must be a sketch of the castle. At the center was a large circle; a square had been drawn inside it, against one edge, with three smaller squares inside it. Various lines branched off the large circle; along them were strings of odd symbols: +, X, ★, and ▼.

  “You found this in Ganelin’s bed?”

  “Yes, sir. His majesty said he couldn’t guess what it might be. Can you?”

  “I think so.” Merlin went to the window and took a deep breath. “Were you at the Great Hall the night Borolet was killed?”

  “Yes, sir, I was. With the other pages.”

  “What do you remember?”

  He thought for a moment, pretty obviously trying to guess what Merlin was after. “A long wait, then confusion.”

  Brit knocked at the door and came in. Merlin was glad to see her. “Brit, look at this. Greffys found it in Ganelin’s room.”

  She inspected it, lit two more candles then inspected it again. “The Great Hall and the corridors around it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And this square with the little squares inside it-it must represent the dais and the three thrones.”

  “Certainly. And all the little symbols in the halls?”

  She looked it over again. “They could mean anything. This could be some game he was playing with his brother, or-”

  “I don’t think so. I think this is a diagram he made to keep track of what he learned about the movements of our various suspects that night.”

  “A cross, an X, a little star and a triangle? Why would he-I mean, why wouldn’t he use their initials or something obvious? These things could represent anyone.”

  “Point taken. But how well did you know him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do either of you have any idea if he could read and write?”

  Greffys and Brit looked at one another. Greffys was plainly lost. Brit said, “Probably not. He was training to be a knight, not a poet.”

  “You’re a knight, Britomart, and you’re one of the best-educated people in the country.”

  “I’m the odd one, remember? The woman? Learning to read couldn’t diminish my status the way it would a man. Reading is for clerks.” There was a slightly bitter edge to her voice.

  Merlin turned his attention back to Ganelin’s diagram. “There were four people Ganelin suspected-four people he learned enough about to make their movements worth noting.”

  “Excuse me, sir.” Greffys was quite out of his element. “I really don’t know what you mean. Or who.”

  “No, of course you don’t. I was forgetting. Why don’t you get back to your room and to bed. Brit and I have a lot to talk about.”

  Not certain whether to be offended, the boy said good night and left.

  “Well, Brit. Look at the way the symbols are arranged. They run in lines down various corridors, leading away from the Great Hall.”

  “If we’re right and this is the Great Hall.”

  “We have to assume it is. How else can we proceed? I think the little symbols must trace the movements of our suspects.”

  “That could be. Or they could be arranged according to some other pattern that isn’t occurring to you.”

  "Possibly, but…” He rubbed his chin, furrowed his brow and went over the diagram still again. “I think we have to assumethis charts their movements until that assumption becomes untenable or something stronger occurs to us. There are four symbols. That means four suspects he learned enough about to think they were worth concentrating on.”

  “Four.” She leaned next to him and studied the scroll. “Mordred and Lancelot. Those are the obvious ones. And… Pellenore?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And then… who is the fourth?”

  He stood up and exhaled deeply. “How well do you know the servants?”

  “Better than most of the knights, I think, but not really well.”

  “Will they talk to you? Open up to you the way they did to Ganelin, I mean?”

  “I don’t know. I can try.” She hesitated. “We can always force them to talk.”

  “No, Brit. Arthur has banned that. It is out of the question. ”

  “And if there’s no other way?”

  “There is. And we have to start confronting the suspects. Gently. Obliquely. We don’t want anyone panicking, and we certainly don’t want any more murders. But if we can put what the servants know together with what we learn from the suspects themselves, we should be able to match each symbol to the right person. Once we’ve eliminated the ones we can account for, the one left is the killer.”

  “It’s cold in here.” She walked to the window and started to close it.

  “Don’t. M
y raven will come back soon.”

  “Raven? One? What happened to the other two?”

  “A hawk got them. Or they got sick or had an accident. I don’t really know.”

  “Merlin, we can’t assume Ganelin identified every possible suspect.” She crossed the room and stood by the fire.

  “We can’t assume anything else, not till there’s a reason to.”

  “People left the hall for the privy. Even Mark told us he did that.”

  He rolled up the scroll. “This is all we have to go on, Brit. At least for now. If we work slowly, steadily and carefully we can solve this.”

  "A star, an X, a triangle… It’s like some mystical code.”

  “It is a code, but there’s nothing mystical about this. With thought and reason and careful analysis we can unmask the truth.”

  “Does truth need unmasking?”

  “It rarely needs anything else.”

  FOUR. THE INVESTIGATION BEGINS IN EARNEST

  The next day Merlin went to Arthur and explained what he thought Ganelin’s chart represented. They were in his study, the room where Borolet had been killed. “So you see, by learning what we can from the servants and putting it together with what we learn from the suspects, we may be able to discover the killer’s identity. I think we have a very good chance.”

  “Suppose these symbols mean something else?”

  “They may. There’s no way of knowing till we investigate. ”

  The king listened patiently, frowning occasionally, examining the chart, trying to follow it all. “How long will this take?”

  Merlin smiled. “How can I know that? Weeks. Possibly longer. If you want prophecy, consult Morgan.”

  “Her prophecies are always wrong. Well, nearly always.”

  “Heavens, I can’t imagine why.”

  Arthur bristled. “You’re not going to make any friends being skeptical of religion, Merlin.”

  “This isn’t a matter for Morgan’s hokum. If we’re going to find the killer we must rely on reason. The more so since Morgan is under suspicion herself.”

  “You cannot go around accusing the nation’s chief priestess of murder. Not without firm evidence. Irrefutable evidence.”

  “If you want the murderer unmasked, it hardly seems wise to place one of the prime suspects off-limits to the investigation, Arthur.”

  He sighed. “I’m not placing anyone off-limits. And you have every right to be as skeptical of the gods and their priests as you please. But you have to understand, it’s not a prejudice most people are likely to share.”

  “Fine. Point taken. But I need you to promise me your full support if I’m to go ahead with this. As you’ve pointed out yourself, the queen and the chief priestess-the king’s wife and sister-are under suspicion. This will take some delicacy.”

  “Delicacy? Is that really the word you mean?” Arthur suddenly turned to the door and cried out, “Greffys!”

  The squire came running. “Sir?”

  “There’s no more wine. Rush and get me some, will you?”

  He went.

  Merlin brought him back to the subject at hand. “Perhaps you should do the investigation yourself, Arthur. No one could question its ‘delicacy’ then.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You’re the wisest man here.”

  Merlin narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want to deal with this.”

  “Of course I don’t.” Uncharacteristically, Arthur explodedin anger, pounded the table and began to shout. “My boys are dead-horribly so. Their mother is dead. And every time we talk about it you tell me either my wife or my sister is probably behind it.”

  “You can always tell me to abandon the investigation completely.”

  “I wish I could. But… but… I don’t know what to do.” Deflated, he picked up the diagram, glared at it then put it back on the table. “You’re my chief advisor. Tell me what to do.”

  “You know what I think is necessary for finding the assassin. Let me do it.”

  Arthur stared at him without saying anything.

  “And then,” Merlin went on, “there is the bigger question of what might be done to prevent this kind of thing from happening again.”

  Arthur sat again. This was obviously a new thought to him. “Yes?”

  Softly, Merlin said, “Education.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Education. Schools.”

  “What the devil are you talking about?”

  “Education always pays off-always enriches a society. It makes things run more smoothly.”

  “You have a way of making me feel dense, Merlin. I’m not following you at all.”

  “If Ganelin had simply noted the names of the suspects, we’d have the killer already. Instead he used these little symbols.”

  “What of it?”

  “Arthur, the boy couldn’t read and write. This cryptic chart is the best he could come up with. We should be glad we have it at all, but even so…”

  “Guenevere can read. Morgan and Mordred can read. Yet you suspect them of villainy.”

  “Learning increases the potential for crime, yes. But it also increases the odds of solving the crime. Arthur, teach your pages and your squires. Establish a school here. Teach them about Rome and Athens, about the magnificent things mankind can accomplish. If nothing else, learning about government-about the benefits it brings us, the order, the stability-will make it less likely anyone will strike at your kingship in this way again.”

  “You’ve been trying to get me to do that for years. You know the risk-the knights wouldn’t like it. Focus on finding the one who killed my sons. We don’t even know that these killings were an attempt to ‘strike at my kingship.’ It may have been simply theft. We’ll talk about schools later.”

  Greffys came back with a skin of wine and poured a cup for Arthur. The king drank, satisfied, thanked him and told him to go. Then to Merlin, he said, “Have you tried this? Mark’s people have taken to cultivating vines in Cornwall. He says it’s the only part of the country suitable for wine-making. It’s pretty good. With luck we won’t have to import our wine from France much longer. Guenevere’s father will be most unhappy.” He grinned like an impish boy. “You are going to have Mark work with you on this investigation, aren’t you?”

  He’d been hoping it wouldn’t come up. “Not right away, no.”

  “What the devil do you mean?”

  “Once we’ve cleared him-”

  “Cleared him?” Arthur bellowed it. “Do you mean to say he’s under suspicion, too? My military commander? Is there anyone near me you don’t suspect of murder?”

  “He was seen leaving the Great Hall at the start of the ceremony, Arthur. He’s even admitted it himself. And he was not seen to return.”

  Arthur got up and started pacing. “What will you need? And who? I want this ended as quickly as possible.”

  “I’ll have to visit the various suspects on their home ground. I’ll need plausible reasons for that. With Mark, we can come up with some reason for me to inspect the tin mines. Perhaps we can concoct some story for Morgan about wanting to go over the ceremonies for Midwinter Court. For Guenevere-I don’t know. Nothing convenient occurs to me. Do you have any suggestions?”

  “Not offhand. She’s likely to be suspicious of any story, anyway.”

  “A fine wife.”

  “What do you think wives do? She has her fortieth birthday coming up next winter. Perhaps we can tell her we want to make it a national feast or something, and you’re going to visit her for preliminary discussions.”

  “Do you want to make her birthday a national feast?”

  “Don’t be absurd, Merlin. But I’d be surprised if the idea hasn’t occurred to her already. So there’s nothing to lose. Maybe we can invite her father and then imprison him.”

  “Provoke an international incident?”

  “He’s as minor a king as you could find in Europe. I doubt if anyone would mind. And it would give Guenevere a reason to start
behaving herself.” He drank. “For once.”

  “Well, fine, then. Let’s give all of this some more thought, though, shall we? There’s no sense stirring things up more than we have to.”

  “I thought you liked stirring things up.”

  “Don’t you be foolish, Arthur.” He stared at the chart. “There has to be a way to decipher this.” Then he looked at Arthur again. “I want Britomart. I know her and trust her. And I know she can’t be the killer. She was with me in the Great Hall the whole time. Can you do without her for a time?”

  “Fine, yes, take her. Who else?”

  “My apprentice, Colin. I know I can rely on him.”

  “Fine. And who else?”

  “I may need Greffys. Or at any rate someone who’s on good terms with the servants. I suppose any of the pages would do. But since Greffys is already involved in this, I think…”

  “Fine. Anyone more?”

  “No, I don’t think so. We’ll need horses for ourselves, and a few more to carry luggage and supplies. And I think that should be all. For the time being, at least. I don’t think we should travel with an armed escort. It will be better to keep a low profile.”

  “Good. Go and get started. Remember, Merlin, I want the killer exposed by Midwinter Court.”

  “I’ll do my best, Arthur.”

  “Good.” His cup was empty. He picked up the wineskin and took a long drink from it. “I don’t mean to roar at you. But this situation… it’s so horrible. Who else do you suspect? ”

  “Well… Pellenore.”

  Arthur snorted derisively.

  “I know how unlikely it is, but we can’t afford to overlook any possibility, can we?”

  “I suppose not. And who else?”

  “Those are the most important suspects. Everyone else who left the hall that night seems to have come back fairly quickly. It’s unlikely any of them did the murder. Oh, and it might be useful for you to write Morgan, Mark and Guenevere to let them know I’ll be visiting them on your business.”

  “Draft the letters. I’ll sign them and send them.”

  “You’ll have them by morning.”