The Strife of Albion

Chapter Two

Merlin walked calmly beside Llamrei, slightly behind Leon, as they walked as inconspicuously as possible through the camp. No one was bothered by the man walking with one of King Arthur's most trusted servants. His time on the Isle of the Blessed had taught him how to behave like a powerful sorcerer – walking tall, talking low and firm, investing each movement with authority and confidence. But in truth his legs were weak and blood pounded in his ears, his hands were sweaty and his skin tingled. He was completely terrified. Not physically – he could defend himself should the situation turn nasty, and hold off attacks for at least as long as it took to flee –but because much as he was desperate to see Arthur, he was dreading it to the point of feeling sick. With every step taking him nearer the king's tent, he wished he was still persuading Leon back at the clearing.

The last time he had seen Arthur was that terrible night when Gwen and Lancelot's secret had come out – still so confused in his mind, from the moment he had returned from a ride to find the shout had gone up that Mordred had arrived in the hall of Camelot, unarmed and unaccompanied, requesting an audience with Arthur, he had known the game was up. There is always a silence before a great crash, and as he had realised that Arthur, slave to his system of honour, hadn't been able to refuse the audience, he had known that a great crash was coming to Camelot, even as he ran like mad to the Queen's chambers, where he knew he would find Lancelot, with as much certainty as he had known when Blaise had told him by the lake to look to the Queen– Mordred would not be there, if they were not together, he knew that, he knew it.

Mordred had told Arthur everything – of Gwen and Lancelot's infidelity, of Merlin's visits to the druid camp where Morgana and Morgause were based. The mad fight in the bedroom with Lancelot fighting his way clear of the knights Arthur had despatched from the hall, the look of nausea on Arthur's face when Kay told him that the knights had caught Merlin warning the lovers, Gwen begging at Arthur's feet not to be exiled, but to be allowed to stay in Camelot with him and screaming as though being murdered as she was dragged from his presence, all of it was a swirl of confusion in Merlin's memory. Arthur shouting at him "did you secretly go to the camps?" in a voice which begged to be lied to and Merlin saying, yes, and trying to explain why, but even to his ears his excuses sounded absurd. Mordred watching it all with his pale eyes passionlessly, before taking his leave.

Arthur had aged anyway since his father's death, but he looked positively ill that day. He was grey, gaunt and looked sick to death. He leaned on the throne for support, as he ordered Lancelot, fled from Camelot in a flurry of swordplay, to be stripped of his knighthood and exiled, he ordered Gwen's exile, allowing her to take jewels with her, and finally ordering the exile of Merlin, who had lost the ability to speak by that point and, indeed, see. He could barely feel the grip of Leon dragging him from the hall. "You should all be executed for treason," Arthur's last words had been, the revulsion in his voice indicating his fighting of vomiting from shock and misery, "you should all be executed for treason, but you were all...dear to me. That went one way, I do see that now, but it was real...it was real to me, if only to me, and for that reason I cannot...I will not betray that innocent faith and love the way you all did."

By the time Merlin had been escorted to the borders of Camelot, where his ropes were cut, and Sir Galahad reminded him he was to cross into Camelot again on pain of instant death, he virtually fell off his horse, and lay, motionless, in total shock, and still hearing the words in his head, haunting, and enough to drive him mad.

"Visitor for King Arthur," said Leon, in his most efficient voice, bringing Merlin back to the cold, misty night in Lyonesse. The guards at the tent squinted slightly at the hooded figure, but stood aside, trusting to Leon. "You can go and get some food," added Leon, as an afterthought. "I can watch him." The guards murmured surprised thanks. Merlin smiled to himself. Camelot guards, always to be trusted to take things at face value, which, considering the years of paranoid rule from Uther, was quite extraordinary.

The tent was lit by several lamps, casting a warm glow in the tent in stark contrast to the cold fog outside, and Arthur lay on a bed swamped with furs and blankets, his head visible, eyes only partially shut. He seemed only lightly asleep. He didn't look a great deal better than that day in the great hall, he was too grey and thin, his face was tense and his body tight. There were huge bags under his eyes.

"Sire?" said Leon. Arthur's eyes opened immediately, he didn't seem to have really been asleep, he hadn't really slept in weeks, months, even.

"Yes? Report?" he murmured, turning.

"Arthur," said Merlin. "You look really dreadful."

Furs and blankets tumbled to the floor as Arthur sat bolt upright, struggling wildly for Excalibur, yelling "GUARDS!"

"The guards are getting some food, Sire," said Leon, as calmly as to a child having a nightmare.

"No. No. NO." To both Leon and Merlin's alarm, Arthur seemed to be using Excalibur to free himself from his bedsheets. "Not you, too. Oh please, not you too." He looked quite wild-eyed, vaguely indicating Leon with Excalibur.

"No, Sire. I –"

"Sir Leon," said Merlin, interrupting, now that Arthur seemed to be approaching a standing position. "Sir Leon, would you mind standing outside to check when the guards are back?"

Leon hesitated. Arthur was still gesticulating and ranting about traitors. "I –"

"Leon," Merlin took his arm, and gently escorted him to the flap. "Leon, don't worry, I'll explain everything to him. I love him like a brother. You know I do. We won't hurt each other, and I promise he won't hurt you either."

Since Leon had surrendered every other point that evening, he saw no reason to dispute this one, and left.

"Have you enchanted him?" roared Arthur. "Is everyone to betray me?"

"Arthur, do be quiet and sit down. If you shout any louder, guards will come and then I'll have to start doing sleeping spells, and no one wants that. Although," he added, "you look like you could do with one. Have you been taking your valerian potion?"

"I will not sit down and be quiet!" He stood there, in his loose sleeping clothes, Excalibur waving incongruously as though batting sylphs of the air in an uneven fight. His hair was tousled, and he had his intransigent face on. "Leon too!"

"Leon's loyalty is extraordinary to you, Arthur. He would literally do anything for you, including incurring your implacable wrath. Do sit down, Arthur. Have you eaten?"

Arthur did, presently, sit down, Excalibur firmly in hand. He stared at Merlin in wonder, eyes wide, looking almost young again. "What are you doing here? I was thinking about you..." he looked resigned, suddenly. "Oh, you're here to kill me. You're not going to let me die on the battlefield."

Merlin surprised himself by being genuinely offended. He sat next to Arthur. "That's unworthy of you, Arthur, and you know it's not true. Although I will say you and Leon have both very rigid criteria for the circumstances of your deaths. Of course I'm not here to kill you, you clotpole."

Arthur blinked, looking at his lap. He put Excalibur next to him. "You shouldn't have come here, Merlin," he said, clearly, uncomfortably. "You're under a death sentence, you know that."

"Yes," agreed Merlin. "But Lyonesse isn't really your territory, is it?"

"Nor ever likely to be," groaned Arthur. "Lyonesse is a snakepit of traitors and sorcerers and Saxons and who knows what else. You wouldn't believe the good things we've done elsewhere, Merlin, you really wouldn't. But there's always one. Well, two. King Mark of Cornwall isn't onside, either. Mercia, Astolat, Emione, Lothian, Rheged, the Isle of Gramarye, Northumbria, a hundred other smaller kingdoms – they're all looking to me to solve their problems, and I've got King Mark and King Meloydas bringing madness to their own realms and everyone else's too! I have their nobles and people daily asking me to stop the invading Saxons – how?" he shrugged and leaned back. "What would my father do?" he asked the air. "I was wondering that when you came in."

"Your father," said Merlin, "wouldn't be in this position. Albion would have been overrun years ago. You think he would inspire the trust and faith of the other kings and peoples that you have? You think they would be queuing up to be fighting with Uther...well, they'd queue to fight with him," Merlin conceded with a grin, "but not beside him." Arthur snorted with subdued laughter, but quickly caught himself. He glanced sideways at Merlin, to see if he had noticed the moment of weakness. Merlin deliberately didn't see. He nudged Arthur sideways in the ribs. "And I would believe it. Did you think I'd ascended clean out of the world when you sent me away?"

The familiar sulkiness set in around Arthur's lips as he said, while playing with his cuffs, "I had literally no idea what you would do. And I don't much care. The only thing I care about is what you did right under my nose."

"I know. And I did know about them, Arthur, for some time. But I was angry. Very angry, when I found out. They were victims of Mordred, Arthur, as much as your father, as much as all the dead knights. They're only human. Mordred found their weakness – Lancelot's attraction to Gwen, Gwen's attraction to Lancelot and your relationship's insecurities –"

"Merlin, I swear, I don't want to hear it. I'm dying tomorrow. Haven't you heard? Do you think I care with all this infantile gossip now?"

"Yeah, I do. It isn't infantile. They stopped. They knew it was wrong. Lancelot tried to leave to go and clear up with marches of Cornwall with Geraint – do you remember? You wouldn't let him, because Gareth was missing."

"Hang on. This is my fault?"

"Certainly not. These are the facts. Then Morgana let Gareth go, so Lancelot went to Gwen to say goodbye. It was all over by then. I swear to you. But of course Gareth had been found because Mordred had told Morgana to let him go, because Mordred knew you would then let Lancelot leave for Cornwall, and he knew Lancelot would want to say goodbye to Gwen – "

"You've lost me completely."

"Mordred set them up. He knew when he came to Camelot to see you that they would be together, because Gareth's freedom meant Lancelot could leave. He has excellent spies. Of course I warned them, when I heard he had arrived. I could imagine the terrible reaction if you found out. Good and honest and decent and honourable men have faults too. You have one or two yourself, you know. I wasn't protecting their faithlessness, Arthur, I was protecting you and your faith in them. I couldn't," he too looked to his hands in desperation, "I couldn't bear the idea of you getting hurt."

Arthur snorted again, but there was no mirth there this time. He was on his feet, angry. "And your visits to Morgana and Morgause's camps, they were to protect me too?"

"Yes!" Merlin got up to, facing him, matching him face-to-face. "Yes! I was starting the job I eventually finished. I didn't know they knew I was there. I always went when they weren't around. Fre – the Lady of the Lake – you know she's loyal to you – she gave me some druid contacts, we were working against them on the inside. It was stupid, I should've known he'd have worked it out. But I was inexperienced."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, curious in spite of himself. "But now you're experienced? What job?"

"Mordred and Morgana are arrogant, Arthur. And a bit mad, if I'm honest. They think they have the Old Religion on their side. They don't. The Old Religion is about balance and order, and they bring panic and disruption and disorder wherever they go. You are the unifying force, you bring peace and prosperity and safety to everyone, from kings to peasants in the fields. Your father did much to destroy trust, but they trust you. Well, they trust me, and it's the same thing," he saw Arthur look at him, for the first time keeping eye contact. "We're two sides of the same coin. People have said that to me once or twice, and it's true. You can battle the Saxons and King Meloynas, Arthur, you are militarily unsurpassable. You will defeat them. But you can't fight Mordred and Morgana. You can't defeat them."

"You can?"

"I'll be honest. I don't think we can destroy them. But we can fight them, we can knock them back, we can stop them for now. You can create a great kingdom from Albion. But you can't knock them back alone. I've been as busy as you have been, Arthur. The druids are waiting, in an oak grove just outside of camp. If you let us, we can stand shoulder to shoulder with you. You don't have to die tomorrow, it isn't your time. We even have access to the dragon, although I really advise not opening that can of worms unless we really have to. The time to cast away Excalibur is still far off, Arthur. We haven't done our stuff yet. We haven't even really begun."

"I can't...fight with druids..." Arthur was vague, he pulled his eyes away, thinking, and Merlin knew he was getting through.

"You've used their magic before. You trusted the Lady of the Lake when you came to find me in Broceliande. You took Excalibur from her and you took the scabbard to protect yourself. She was a druid, once. She told you that the time to cast away Excalibur was far off, and this isn't it, Arthur. This isn't it. We have so much to do."

Arthur bit his lip and looked like a guilty schoolboy, shedding years and suddenly becoming the maddeningly charming boy Merlin first knew. "I lost the scabbard," he admitted, quietly. "Morgause took it from me, just before we killed her."

"Yes, I know," said Merlin, with all the gentleness he had been saving over the years when he had been desperate to be able to comfort his friend. "Don't worry. We'll find it again."

"Really?" Arthur lifted his eyes, still doubtful. "But...I don't think I can make an actual alliance...with druids..."

"Why? Because your father said so? Arthur, you shielded me for months when you knew I had magic. You let me help you at times when you couldn't help yourself. We were a good team. You didn't care about your father's law then."

"I did care," whispered Arthur, and for the first time Merlin saw tears in his eyes.

He reached and took the king's hand in his own. "I know," he said, quietly, regaining eye contact. "But the law was wrong. You changed it. You were right to change it. When you rode in from that skirmish with the Saxons, Arthur...do you remember? Gwen and I were watching in the courtyard, and you rode back wearing Uther's armour because he had been killed and you had taken his place. We didn't know it was you, and we couldn't see you, and Gwen was hysterical, and I felt so sick, and then Leon shouted 'the king is dead! Long live the king!' and you took off the king's helmet, and you looked so scared, Arthur, and so completely excited, holding Excalibur above you, with everyone shouting – the old order yielding place to the new, a new king in the old king's armour. It was an ending and such a promising beginning. Everything was possible. You are everything good about Uther, and not tainted by the same prejudices and hatred. I know you don't trust them, I know you think they are on Mordred's side, but you have to trust them. You have to trust me. By standing with the druids, you're not being disloyal your father. You're showing the world that the Pendragons have the wisdom to admit faults, and learn from them. That's as honourable and valuable as a king who can show fear because it shows he understands what's going on."

He knew then he had won.

"LEON!" shouted Arthur. "Get Morris to get the horses!" He turned back to Merlin. "You and Gwen," he said, ignoring the telltale thickness to his voice, "you and Gwen are emotional nitwits. How did neither of you wonder why my father was carrying Excalibur?" He pulled on his clothes, as Merlin protested, "we had other things to worry about, like you, you idiot!"

"Like old times, then," said Leon, to Merlin, as they came out of the tent into the darkness, darkness which was hardly noticeable with the swirling pale mist. "Sire," he went on, "Merlin brought this new horse for you."

Arthur looked at the Llamrei, who looked back. "Is it a druid horse?" he asked.

Llamrei headbutted him.

"Yes," admitted Merlin. "But you need him for tomorrow."

Arthur peered closely at Llamrei. "There's something about him..." he mused, allowing Morris to heave him up.

"Where're we going?" asked Leon, trying to arrange his tunic in such a way under his chainmail to stop the mist sneaking in. It was even colder now night had really fallen.

"Druids!" announced Arthur, mostly to Llamrei, who immediately went into action.

"Druids?!" exclaimed Leon, quickly following, hastily unsheathing his sword.

"Druids," confirmed Merlin, relaxing for the first time that night. Yes, druids. And Lancelot and Gwen, of course. He tensed again, ever so slightly.