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Chapter Four

Before leaving to dine with his father and several others, Arthur debated telling the remaining guard that Merlin was not to leave the room under any circumstance. However he decided it was unlikely that his friend would wake before his return, and the less said the better.

Later, Arthur was to have wished that he had inquired about the guest list beforehand; Tywysog and his nasty assistant were both in attendance, along with several council elders. The prince had learned that the assistant's name was Mordwywr (not that he cared). The predominant topic of conversation, introduced by Tywysog, was the failure of the knights and, by extension, himself, to locate the sorcerer. Uther, long familiar with his son's short fuse, attempted a diplomatic change of topic. It was unfortunate and unintentional that the topic he chose only made matters worse.

"Where's your servant this evening?" the king asked, noticing that young man's absence.

His father usually paid as much attention to servants as he did to the furniture. And he picked now to suddenly notice? Before the prince could reply, Tywysog leaned forward intently. "Your servant is missing?"

"Not at all," Arthur replied, in as casual a tone as he could manage. "Gaius, our court physician, requested his assistance for the evening. I gave my permission."

Several of the elders exchanged glances; the prince rarely explained himself.

Tywysog was nothing if not tenacious. He turned to the king. "Perhaps under the circumstance, your highness, someone should be sent to check on this person's whereabouts."

The king's eyes narrowed, and several of the elders looked disapprovingly at the witchfinder. The man had clearly overstepped himself.

"Possibly I was unclear - ," the prince began, in a deadly voice.

The king hastily intervened. "My son's servant shares quarters with our physician and frequently assists him. Nothing sinister."

"No offense intended," Tywysog blustered. "You can't be too careful, you know."

Arthur turned his head to meet the vulture-like stare from Mordwywr's opaque eyes. This wasn't over, the prince was nearly certain, and someone was going to end up dead.

Much Later

Arthur slept badly that night, worrying about the possibility of Tywysog and Mordwywr going to check on Merlin's whereabouts themselves. He had pulled the raven-haired young man over to the right-hand side of the bed. (Arthur always slept on the left.) He was not keen to share a bed with the warlock, but the entire castle was booby-trapped, and he wasn't going to dump him on the floor. Having another bed dragged in was completely out of the question, and he sure as hell wasn't sleeping on the floor. The boy mumbled a few unintelligible words but didn't wake. After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, the prince himself finally fell asleep around midnight.

Merlin woke just before dawn, confused and disoriented. Where was he? The bed he slept on was too soft, warm, and comfortable to be his own. His fingers counted three thick blankets piled on top of him. Definitely not his bed.

"Fromum feohgiftum on faeder bearme." The blue orb of light illuminated the large room. He was in Arthur's room with - yikes! - the blonde-haired prince lying asleep beside him. He hastily extinguished the light. Had Arthur seen it? He thought his eyes had been closed. He listened with relief to the prince's even breathing. What happened yesterday? He remembered terrible pain, more intense than anything he'd ever felt before. He thought then that he'd fallen. Someone had carried him here, possibly the prince himself. The last thing he remembered was Gaius talking to him then giving him something, most likely a sleeping draught.

Merlin lay until first light then got out of bed as quietly as he could, looking around for his boots and jacket. He stumbled over one of his boots and found his jacket thrown over the back of a chair. He didn't think he'd been wearing a neckerchief. He needed to go fetch Arthur's breakfast from the kitchen. Just thinking about food made him realize how ravenously hungry he was. He hadn't eaten since noon of the previous day.

Derek was just arriving for his shift when he saw the warlock exiting the room further down the corridor and head off in the opposite direction. Toward the kitchen. Where the hell was the prince? He knew Merlin would pass by a large tapestry - one that he (Derek) hadn't checked behind - if he kept going in that direction. Neither of the two guards on either side of the prince's door had made a move to stop him. No one had told them to. Derek sprinted down the corridor.

"Merlin, you can't be out here. You must stay in the room. Where is Prince Arthur? Is he sleeping?" Derek had caught up with the dark-haired young man and, grabbing his arm, had pulled him to a halt.

Merlin looked uncertain, not sure what was going on. "Yes, he's still in bed. I need to get his breakfast - ."

"I need you to trust me," Derek began, when he caught movement in his peripheral vision. Two men had entered the end of the corridor. One was a tall man with an enormous potbelly and bushy sideburns; the other was a gaunt-looking man in a black coat. He was fairly sure he had not seen either man before, but he could guess at their identity: the witchfinder and his assistant. Oh, crap.

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It took a while for the sound of the door opening and closing to filter through Arthur's sleep-befuddled brain. He opened cerulean blue eyes. Merlin was no longer lying asleep beside him. He hurriedly sat up and scanned the room. "Merlin? Merlin!" Not in the room. He was flippin' not in the ROOM. There were guards at the door. He came to the panicked realization that he had neglected to warn the guards that his servant was not to leave this room without his knowledge and consent. He swore. If Merlin died because of his carelessness - .

Seconds later, Arthur was standing in the corridor in stocking feet. He saw Tywysog and Mordwywr approaching from the left and Derek and Merlin halted down the corridor on the right. Arthur forced himself to walk calmly toward the latter two, hoping in the meantime that the witchfinder would not hail him.

"Just this once, Merlin, I need you to do as you're told," the prince said, upon reaching his servant. "Your life may depend upon it." Arthur kept his voice down. He could see Tywysog and his assistant approaching from the corner of his eye.

"All right, Arthur." The warlock looked into the prince's eyes and saw something there he had never expected to see. Fear. When was Arthur ever afraid? With a little shock, he realized the fear was for him.

"I need you to go with Derek back into my room. I'll explain everything - ."

"Prince Arthur!" the witchfinder hailed him in his booming voice. "I need to speak with you, your highness." His eyes slid over Derek, then settled on the dark-haired young man beside him. "And who might you be?"

"Merely a servant," the prince answered coldly, "no one that would concern you. And I am unable to speak with you now." The blonde-haired young man gripped Merlin by the upper arm, his fingers digging in. To Merlin: "You will finish your chores this time, and you will not leave until I have personally approved your work. Is that understood?"

Merlin dropped his eyes in a submissive gesture. "Yes, sire."

"Is this your manservant that went missing - ?" Tywysog began. "I have some questions."

"As I explained to you last evening, he was never missing," the prince said in a lethal-sounding voice.

"The king assured me I would get complete cooperation," the witchfinder complained, seemingly oblivious to the very real peril he was in.

How dense is this guy? Merlin wondered in amazement. Feeling the eyes of the gaunt man upon him, he looked up. The gimlet-eyed stare caused a frisson of fear to ripple down his spine. These were the people responsible for the terrible pain he felt yesterday. And he knew what they were.

"Derek. Your sword," the prince said, holding out his right hand. The broad-shouldered guard wordlessly removed his sword from its scabbard and held it out to Arthur who gripped it.

"This is intolerable," the witchfinder sputtered and fumed. His assistant, possibly more alert to the danger in which the pair of them stood, gave the man a shove in the opposite direction.

"We need to leave now."

"This is an outrage!" Tywysog continued to insist, as he joined his assistant in retreating down the corridor.

The golden-haired prince very carefully returned the sword to Derek. The three of them stood there in silence for several long minutes. Arthur knows I have magic, Merlin thought, and he's trying to save me anyway.