A TRICK OF THE LIGHT
Chapter Three
"The belly is an ungrateful wretch, it never remembers past favours, it always wants more tomorrow."
(Aleksander Solzhenitsyn)
-x0x-
Arthur lay in bed and glared at the moonlit canopy. Sleep was elusive and his belly was growling like an angry dog. Supper had been… less than satisfying. No surprises there, but really! Had Merlin used any meat tonight? Carrots and turnips were all very well in their place, and he wasn't one to complain as a general rule, but surely the king of Camelot had a right to a decent meal now and then. I should find my own personal cook, he thought sleepily, as he did almost every night. Merlin certainly has no pretentions to the title. Merlin. He would be so disappointed, Arthur realised. And probably pull that face… the annoying one that made him look like a little lost puppy.
Oh, for goodness sake.
Driven by his indignation, and his hunger, Arthur sat up, swung his feet around and hopped out of bed. Was he not a man of action?
Could he not, in fact, feed himself when the need arose?
"I'll go to the kitchens," he announced to the room at large.
From her lofty throne above the clouds, the moon looked down at him through his bedroom window and she seemed to be smirking.
"I know where they are," the king of Camelot added testily.
He pulled on his boots and a nearby shirt. Fully dressed, and full of sudden vigour, he set off on his noble quest: bread and cheese. And maybe a flagon of something warm and soothing, purely to help him sleep, of course. Arthur smiled as he strode along the corridor. He could almost taste it now…
A bobbing candle flame in the distance drew him back out of his reverie and, all at once, he found to his astonishment that he did not know where he was. In his own castle.
Ridiculous.
"I took a wrong turn, that's all," he muttered as he glanced around to regain his bearings. All was mystifying shadow. Only the candle lit his way, bouncing merrily down a staircase somewhere in front of him. Down. The kitchens were down. Arthur followed quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He was far wearier than he had suspected. This was strange, his brain insisted; very strange. But Arthur was a stubborn man, and toasted cheese was calling him…
…to the armoury, apparently. As the candle flame winked out, Arthur found himself scowling at racks of spears and rows of brightly painted shields, in the room he had just entered.
"Fine," he grumbled. At least he knew where he was. "Hello?" he ventured cautiously, but the bearer of the flame had vanished into thin air, to all intents and purposes. Very unsettling. Arthur shivered. It was cold down here, where the stone walls leeched all the heat from the room and there was no warm fire to replace it.
Backtracking with care and studying each turn before he took it, Arthur finally reached the end of his reckless quest. The kitchen door was wooden, large and heavy. It was also open, just a crack. Not wishing to alarm the dutiful servant that was doubtless within, working late, Arthur tapped politely.
Bang, went a metal plate on the cobbled floor.
There followed several muffled curses.
Feeling less constrained by manners, Arthur poked his head around the door. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed. "And what do you mean by leading me a merry dance just now?"
Sir Gwaine was busy scooping cold chicken pieces back onto the fallen plate. He glanced up at Arthur and grinned disarmingly, skirting the king's first question.
"Well now, your Highness, I'm not really much of a dancer."
Arthur's eyes narrowed as he took in the over-sized cooking pot that Gwaine had borrowed, and the random pile of food that was currently stuffed inside it. "Hungry, are we? Don't they feed you here?"
"Said one man to another in the kitchen at midnight." Into the pot went the rescued chicken as Gwaine rose to his feet once more.
"Merlin makes my supper," Arthur said meaningfully.
"Merlin's campfire stews are a legend." The knight gave a warm, lazy smile of fond remembrance.
"That's a fair observation. But stew every day can be tedious." Relenting as he began to see the absurdity of the situation, Arthur chuckled. "Got any cheese in that pot?"
Gwaine made a big show of checking. "I do, as a matter of fact. But it's not for eating. Not just yet. Your Highness…"
Arthur was tired and his brain was beginning to ache. Too many petty little mysteries. "Don't tell me – my knights are having a midnight feast. I'm hurt – you didn't invite me." His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Gwaine shrugged. "Something like that…" It was his shifty expression that prompted Arthur's next remark.
"Is Merlin involved?" His servant did always seem to be at the heart of anything odd around here, Arthur reasoned. "He has a knack – no, a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually, I think you'd better tell me what you're up to, Gwaine. No more grinning at me like some motley-clad fool. Don't I deserve to know? I am the…"
"King? You know, if you have to keep saying it…" Gwaine gave one last chuckle to show his friend that he was only joking. Humour was his curious way of showing respect, Arthur knew, and counted himself lucky that the man felt so free and easy in his company, given his former prejudice. "Of course I'll tell you, Arthur. We can talk on the way. It's quite a story, actually. Here, help me carry this…" Together they lifted the pot, with an effort. Arthur's stomach growled once more, as Gwaine set forth on what was clearly going to be a long and elaborate tale. "It all began in the tavern…"
-x0x-
"Comfortable?" Merlin enquired.
Robin leaned back against the fresh pile of pillows and sighed. "Very. And I thank you both. Your kindness is overwhelming." He stared across the room for a while, watching Gaius sort through his remedies. "I forget. The healer said your name was…?"
"I'm Merlin." He shrugged, feeling awkward for some unknown reason.
"It's a good name," Robin told him solemnly.
"Thanks. I like it."
"Do you perhaps have… another?"
Warning bells sounded, ever so softly, in Merlin's head. "Nope. Just Merlin. Unless you count the names Arthur likes to call me on a daily basis… I don't, as a general rule. Just… Merlin."
"And Arthur is… the king?"
"He is." So much pride behind that simple confirmation. It had been a hard road but the arrogant young prince had grown, and now he was the hope of all. Except for you, whispered a mean little voice. No magic in Camelot, still. Your fault and your failing, Emrys… Merlin pushed the doubt back into the dark place where it usually lingered, along with the strange, irrational fear that Robin's piercing eyes could see right through him, stealing every thought he tried to hide.
He shook his head to clear it. I need sleep; that's the problem. "Gwaine should be back soon. He has quite some skill when it comes to pilfering from the kitchen."
"'Pilfering'," Robin murmured. "Is he not a knight?"
"One of the very best," Merlin told him stoutly. "I mean, you should see him fight! Oh, wait; you have…" Humour tugged at the corners of his mouth, and Robin responded to the clumsy joke with an unexpected laugh.
"It was indeed an epic battle," the patient agreed. "No doubt it will be lauded far and wide, in song and story."
"If Gwaine has anything to do with that, I think you may be right." Merlin's back was aching and he stretched his arms out, yawning, just as the knight in question burst through the door, with no less a personage than the king in tow.
"Long night?" said Arthur to his servant, in an unusual burst of sympathy.
"Like you wouldn't believe," sighed Merlin.
"Try me," muttered the king, making an effort to mask his own weary features with a far more congenial expression of welcome and concern. "And this is your guest. Robin, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Arthur, and Sir Gwaine here has told me all about your troubles."
In great detail, Merlin guessed, catching the wicked twinkle in his friend's eye.
"Such a very fine kingdom is this, where the monarch makes even the meanest stranger welcome," Robin said softly.
To his credit, Arthur blushed. "Are you not a man like me?" he replied with quiet dignity. "So it is, in Camelot."
Robin nodded, closing his eyes as a wave of great exhaustion and relief rolled across his whole body for all to see. "Then I have found the place that I was looking for."
