Thanks be to Tianne for the beta.
Chapter 10
Gossip ran around Camelot like an excited child with a new toy; whispering and dancing and holding out its spoils for the world to see. Cooped up in his creaking comfortable house by the light of a hearth fire, the Smithy and the Washerwoman listened to the whispers of the passing crowds and solemnly prepared themselves for the new day.
The Washerwoman reached out one gnarled wizened hand to hold Smithy's large, burnt one.
"I thought," she said and then she stopped. She didn't know how to tell him the thoughts pecking at her brain like a murderous crow. Words had never been her strength.
The Lower Town was burning and the new morning was heating up as it had the day before. Smithy and the Washerwoman had fought the fires all night and had come to the courtyard the next morning to hear Raven speak. They'd all assumed he would come and help them work out what to do next. But Raven hadn't come.
The crowds had milled about confused and afraid and had finally dispersed. Then the rumours began, flying through the town like black birds bearing poor fortune.
Raven was imprisoned, they squawked. The King had been found. The Lady Emerald was also in the dungeons – no, stripped of rank and outcast – no, just in her quarters until the king could be assured of her loyalty.
Prince Arthur, whom none of the populace could remember ever seeing before, was said to be in charge now. It was he, they were told by King Uther who was also a stranger, who would lead them off to glorious battle with Mercia.
All able-bodied men of age were ordered to report to the barracks to be catalogued and armed. They would march at daybreak the next day. Any able-bodied men of age who failed to register would be assumed to be an agent of Mercia and hung.
"I have to go," Smithy told the woman huddled frightened by his fire.
"This is madness," she said, "I don't understand how they know this Mercia is to blame. They say it over and over as though that somehow makes it true and everyone around us just..."
"They need someone to blame," Smithy said gently. "We shouldn't judge them for their fear."
She looked up at his kind brown eyes; her own pale ones flashing steel suddenly.
"Yes, we should."
"Washy," he said gently, affectionately, suddenly wishing he knew her real name.
She met his eyes again struggling to find the words, "I know," she said, "I know in my bones that I used to just..." She sighed.
"So do I," he said; relieving her of the burden of words, "We're simple people. It's clear by everything about us. We've always been here just... sitting... while the world went mad around us."
"But we don't have to anymore," she insisted, "don't you see? We should be free of that now. We don't even... We should..."
"Fight?"
She nodded defiantly.
"Okay," he said, "but how?"
She shook her head, a little defeated at the thought.
"I think," she said finally, "I think that in times like these the opportunity will make itself known. We just have to..."
"Seize it," he finished for her.
He reached out his free hand and slipped a slayward strand of hair behind her ear.
"You're wrong," he said.
"How so?"
"Because... as a plan it still just involves us sitting here."
"So what do we do?" she asked him seriously.
He sat for a moment; a pensive look on his usually place face. The moment drew out while he considered the possibilities and then he answered: "Like you said, we're simple people. If anybody can get a message to Emerald it's an old washerwoman. And this simple house is the last place anyone would look for her and Raven."
The washerwoman smiled slightly, "She'd have to break him out."
"I think someone who does the laundry might be useful there too," he said with a gentle smile.
She squeezed his hands, "You go and register. And this old and useless woman who's no good for fighting will go to the castle and see if there's anything that needs cleaning."
He leant down and kissed her lightly on her faded cheek.
"That's what I call a plan," he whispered. And he stood up, hoisted his bag on his massive shoulders and walked out the door to do his duty for the true leaders of Camelot.
Emerald held up the torch and heard the reverberating slap of her slippers on the stone floor as she slipped down the stairs to the dungeons.
"My Lady," a guard greeted her respectfully if a little warily.
"I'm here to see Raven," she said archly, "I trust that won't be a problem?"
"I'm sorry, My Lady," the guard said, "but we have strict orders that Merlin is not to have any visitors."
"Even the king?"
The guard looked confused, "Of course not. Naturally, the king can visit whomever he pleases."
"And the king's beloved ward, the Lady Morgana, a member of the royal family?"
"I'm sorry, My lady, I don't know you. I can't let you in."
"Of course you don't know me," she said smoothly, "you don't know anybody. None of us do. That's part of our problem, isn't it?"
"Well yes," he conceded, "but..."
"And only a day ago you were imprisoning people based on my orders... and on Raven's."
"True, but..."
"I'm not asking you to release the man you were obeying implicitly just twenty-four hours ago and who has done nothing but protect Camelot from thieves, murderers and rapists. I'm just asking to speak to him. As a member of the royal family."
The guard wilted for a moment then recovered his spine, "I'm sorry, My Lady, I really am. If it were my decision..."
"It is," she said, "Who will know? I give you my word I will not try to free him. I just need to see that the man that I... the man that I... love... is in good health."
She forced a tear to well up in her eye and blinked a few times furiously to send it coursing down her cheek.
"We have so little to rely on in this strange world. He's all I have." She took the guard's hand. "Please. Just one minute and then I will leave."
The guard put his other hand over hers and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "Very well, My Lady. One minute. It'll be our secret."
"Thank you," she gushed, "you're a good man."
She withdrew her hand and walked into the cells past the man that she and Raven had locked up for looting and other crimes. They hooted and jeered at her as she passed but she ignored them as she searched behind the bars for raven hair and ebony skin.
"Emerald," a voice called from the end of the room.
"Raven," she called back, emotion welling up in her. She strode quickly to his cell and stood, bars in hand, as he pulled himself up from dirty straw and kissed her quickly, fiercely.
She kissed him back and then took his hands, "I only have a minute. It's all I could get from the guard."
"What's happening?"
"Arthur... the Prat... found a scroll. It was a series of portraits of the royal family. King Uther - the one we called Crown - his son, Prince Arthur – the Prat – his ward, the Lady Morgana," she stopped and placed a hand on her breast, "That's me. And our servants were in it too. Guinevere – that's Moor – and Merlin, Prince Arthur's manservant."
Raven closed his eyes and nodded, "That would be me. My name is Merlin?"
Emerald nodded.
"I don't understand," said Raven, "If I was a peasant then why..."
"We don't know. But Uther believes it was deliberate and that you are a Mercian spy sent to frustrate our attempts to strike back at our enemy."
Raven slammed the metal bars in frustration. "Then we are at war?"
"We will be tomorrow morning. All men are being rounded up to fight. They march at dawn."
"I don't...," he stopped and looked at her, "You don't believe that I..."
"No! What I think is that this scroll is a forgery. I think it was planted. But I don't know by whom."
"Someone who wants war between us and Mercia," Raven said. He gave her an intensely pensive look, "Gaius. It has to be. Our dreams..."
She nodded. "Blazing eyes. Cold and dark. That's all I remember. But the feeling when he's near..."
"I have it too. I haven't even stopped to ask why or what his motives could be."
"We haven't had time."
"I have. Last night in this cell I had nothing but time to think. And I think that..."
"My Lady," the guard called as he came up behind her, "Your time is up."
She thought for a minute about arguing but then smiled and nodded. If she was going to free Raven she needed his goodwill.
"Of course," she said. She kissed Raven quickly then turned and dropped a coin in the guard's hand.
"Thank you so much for giving me this peace of mind," she told him genuinely, "I am so grateful. If you don't mind, I'd like to send him down some proper food and maybe a change of clothes?"
The guard gave a pleased nod and pocketed the gold as the Lady Emerald swept out of the dungeon.
Guin paused outside the Prat's – Arthur she corrected herself, Prince Arthur – rooms, smoothed down her simple dress, took a deep breath and knocked.
To her surprise, Blankie answered the door.
"Oh, I... sorry, I... um... I was here to see... I wasn't expecting." She took another breath and smiled to hide her mental recovery, "I'm sorry, Blankie. I'm here to see Arthur. I didn't know you'd be here."
"The prince gave me the position after Raven... Merlin... was locked up," Blankie explained. "Thinks I was probably his servant anyway."
"Well, I'm glad," said Gwen who didn't care at all, "Am I able to get an audience? Wow, I never thought I'd say that."
Blankie nodded and let her in to the antechamber. A minute later, Arthur came out dressed in a delicately-embroidered red shirt and a pair of tan trousers.
"Wow," she found herself saying, "you look like a prince."
"I am a prince," he said dourly. "Apparently. Now, what can I do for you..."
"Guin," she said, "I thought that Guinevere was too..." She fluttered her hand to indicate the general uneasiness she felt about being the high-falutin Guinevere.
"I disagree. Guinevere is as beautiful as you are."
Guin blushed; glad the darker colouring of her skin would hide it.
"What can I do for you, Guinevere?"
"It's Raven... um, Merlin. Lady Emerald and I... I mean, Lady Morgana and I..."
She blushed again and he smiled tiredly.
"I've had the same problem all day," he admitted. "How about we just call them what feels natural?"
"Well then, in that case, the Lady Emerald and I have been discussing Raven's imprisonment and we feel..."
"Guinevere," he interrupted her, "please don't finish that sentence. I've barely convinced the king not to execute him for treason. There's no way he'd agree to release him. The only thing Morgana achieves by continuing to oppose Uther is to convince him that she cannot be trusted. He believes her compromised."
Gwen bristled at that, "If anything, Emerald's continued loyalty to Raven proves his innocence. She is far from stupid and she knows him better than any of us. Prat, please, you must know that Raven's guidance is the only thing that has kept this kingdom together."
"My name is Arthur," he said.
Gwen whitened slightly at his tone, "My apologies, Your Highness. I didn't... "
"Guinevere," he said gently and he took one of her hands in his own, "you're a good person and a loyal one. But you need to stay out of this. I don't know if Raven is working for Mercia or not. I know... we all know... so little. But I do know this kingdom is under attack and the little evidence we have incriminates Mercia. If Raven is innocent, he is better off under lock and key until we know what's going on."
"And you believe that tramping off to invade another kingdom in the hopes that our memories will just flood back at the point of a sword is the right course of action?"
"Actually, no," Arthur said, "but it is what my father is set on and he is the king."
She pulled her hand away, "So says a piece of parchment written and planted by the Gods know who. I guess that when the evidence fits your preferences you're ready to believe anything."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? I don't care what some piece of paper says Raven's rank is. He is still Raven and this kingdom needs him. If you won't help, Emerald and I will find someone who will."
She turned to leave, pulling the heavy door open and turning back to him with tears threatening to spill. "I'm... very disappointed in you," she managed and she swept from the room pulling the door behind her with a satisfying thud.
Emerald pushed open the door to her elegant empty chambers and looked around them sadly. She imagined for one moment the tall angular form of her lover smiling at the table in the centre of her room and then forced herself out of melancholy. She had too much to do.
Guin stormed in and slammed the door shut behind her.
"No success?" Emerald asked her with one inquiring eyebrow.
"You were right. One whiff of power and he...," she kicked a cushion off a chair and watched it sail satisfyingly across the room.
Emerald smiled, "I like you angry. You should try it more often."
Guin calmed herself with a nervous twitch of her hands.
"How did you fare?" she asked Emerald.
"I got in and managed to see the guards, the layout and that Raven is alright. I've also given us a reason to send someone down there. Not me. They have strict orders and I don't think they'll disobey them too often. Our new King Uther seems a little ruthless."
"Then his son's a coward," Guin declared.
"Or just as confused as we are, perhaps?"
"No, My Lady, we're not confused. We know exactly what we need to do. It's just the how that needs to be worked out."
"Maybe we can help with that," said a voice from the door.
Emerald and Guin started; having not heard it open.
"Blankie?"
Blankie walked into the room flanked by a vaguely-familiar older woman with the hands of someone who'd worked hard their whole life.
"I heard what you said to Arthur," Blankie told them, "Raven was there for me when I needed him. I have no intention of turning my back on him. And this is... well, we call her the Washerwoman."
"You were there that first morning," Emerald said, remembering the woman who'd helped them with the law and order problem.
"Yes, My Lady," she said shyly. She gave a short bob. "I've come with a proposal."
"Please, come in and sit down," the lady asked her, "you look exhausted and a little..."
"Frazzled might be the word," the Washerwoman said with a smile, "Many of us have been up all night fighting the fires from the attack. And the weather out there today... we're scared the storm will come again."
"It does feel unusually humid," Guin agreed.
"And then this war... My Lady, Smithy and I – oh, he's the blacksmith – we want to make you an offer. We believe that you and Raven are the only ones with our interests at heart; the only ones asking the right questions. I will help you break Raven out of the dungeons and then we can give you all a place to hide and to plan. We only have a simple house and we're hardly warriors but..."
"No, it's perfect," Emerald interrupted her, "You have a reason to be in the dungeons and no one would ever suspect we were at your home. It's absolutely perfect. But dangerous. Are you sure that you..."
"No more dangerous than war, My Lady. No more dangerous than ignorance and hate that has no reason or purpose."
"It doesn't matter who we are, My Lady," said Blankie, "in the end we will all die. I'd rather it be for something worth fighting for. I don't believe this war will give me that."
"Neither do I," said Guin.
"Or I," agreed the Washerwoman.
Emerald smiled; a dazzling hopeful smile that broke out of her face like sunlight.
"Then let's get to it. We have a jailbreak to plan and a massacre to stop. And whoever has done this to our kingdom, whoever is behind this, I hope they're quaking in fear. Because we will find them and we will win. Together."
Across the lightning-blasted hills surrounding Camelot, the squawking murder of crows fleeing from the burning trees and wooden houses in the blazing Lower Town, and across the fields of untended wheat and corn outside the city's walls lies Idirsholas.
Inside the ruins, where fire cannot burn until the frozen Knights within them rise again, an old man with hair so grey it was almost white and the robes of a court physician carefully stood up and looked at the bright day outside where an evil dark storm of roiling clouds and lightning was gathering over his city.
"Uther's faithful servant," said a voice behind him.
He turned to see a tall and athletic woman with gold-tinged eyes and wild blonde hair.
"It's ironic in a way that you probably don't realise yet."
"What is?" he asked her, "Who are you and what am I doing here?"
"I saved you from him," she told him, "and together, you and I are going to save Camelot."
"From what?" He gave her an appraising look, "From whom?"
"Well now, physician," she said smoothly, "that is a very long story."