Twelve
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From the window it was clear to see that the search was still going on around the drawbridge and into the lower town. Merlin watched a moment, observing the glow of torches moving steadily through the streets. They were doing a good job, but looking in the wrong place. Frowning, he turned and went on his way.
The first port of call was the kitchens. He turned off the main corridors and descended via the servants' steps to the lower levels of the Citadel; the areas below the bright halls and breezy windows, a world of hot and stuffy dark corridors and small rooms stuffed with supplies, cutlery, linens and people with work to do.
Immediately he stepped from the last stair a stale breeze hit Merlin square in the face. It carried the scent of warm bread and meat, laundry soap and tallow. He smiled. The scent of home.
He breathed deep of it a moment, before going on his way down the candle lit hall towards the kitchens.
On the way he passed a set of towering double doors. They stood slightly ajar, so he paused and sat down to listen.
Inside he could hear the loud sloshing of churning water, and feel the heat and steam that permeated the atmosphere within that always gave the room the feeling of working inside a hot cloud. Though the women inside could not know that. Not with the certainty that he did.
Camelot's laundry room – huge, with vaulted ceilings holding up the castle above, filled with enormous round tubs of boiling water and soap. At the end farthest from the doors, women would be running endless sheets, clothing and saddle cloths through a small army of mangles. Somewhere in there, amidst the gigantic piles of washing were the sheets that George had stripped from his bed.
It was a horrible, tense, stuffy, damp, skin-withering environment. Merlin loved it, and knew it to be one of the best places in Camelot to hear news and gossip before anywhere else.
He had lost count of times he had rescued Arthur with gossip from the laundry room.
'Oh? Like what?'
Merlin raised both eyebrows at the petulant tone he imagined would be in Arthur's voice.
'This and that... The number of times washerwomen saved your life...'
'Give me one instance, Merlin. ONE instance.'
'When that Lord poisoned your cup*.'
'You snatched that out of my hand, not some washerwoman.'
'Yeah, but they heard about some suspicious peasant bloke with far too nice boots asking about poisons in the Lower town.'
'… Fine. Give me another.'
It always came back to this, didn't it? 'The bear-faced monster.'
'You are never going to let that go, are you?'
'Nah. Probly' not.'
'Anyway, they didn't save my life. Galahad did.'
'Yeah, but we only knew about the stupid thing because Muriel heard it from her sister-in-law's cousin's-'
'She didn't save my life! If anything, she sent me INTO danger.'
'Granted. Bad example, but there are plenty more.'
'Like?'
'The dryad, which was your fault. As was the bar juchne, and the-'
'Those were misunderstandings.'
'Yeah. You tried to cut down her tree, and stole his egg. The information that saved you still came from the laundry room. Same as the crick, the witch in the woods, the chimera and the giant crabs.'
'I thought we agreed never to speak of the giant crabs again.'
'We did, and I won't.' Merlin breathed a deep sigh, and shook his head. 'Servants have saved your life, Arthur, and you never even knew. Everyone was watching out for you. In secret.'
'A bit like you, then.'
Merlin managed a smile. 'Yeah. A bit like me.'
He must be going mad, having imaginary arguments with Arthur. Shoving away the idea and Arthur's indignant voice at being ignored, he focused his attention on the laundry room, and strained his ears to make out the different lines of conversation above the continuous din. The girls had to know about Thomas by now. They would have known as soon as the Court Physician had been sent for that there was murder afoot.
Just around the edge of the door, he could make out the girls at the nearest tub, poking at the clothing and sheets swirling inside with the enormous dollies they used to stir and pound dirt out of the fabric. Well, 'girls' was a bit generous. One was a girl. The others were more akin to cackling hags and hogs. Sounded bad, he acknowledged, but that was in their own words. The washerwomen of Camelot didn't pull any punches, even about their own unspeakable beauty.
"So," he heard the girl – Fenella – begin, her voice straining as she heaved her dolly into the mass of shirts passing her side of the tub, "I heard Lisabet say that old Feora found him. Doing the baker's shirts, she was, just for a bit of extra penny, down by the river when she saw something bobbing in the reeds. Poor little Thomas, it was."
One of the larger ladies, with arms so tough and dry she'd never need armour in a sword battle shook her head. "Poor old Isla's going to be beside herself."
"Too true, Minty. Dunno what she's going to do without Thomas to put food on the table." The final woman – Beryl, maker of the best pear cobbler in Camelot – muttered. Loud enough to be heard over the hiss of steam, so more a bark than a mutter, really. Though she likely intended it to sound like one. Probably for decorum's sake. "She han't been able t'work since her fingers went and she had t'give up the sewing."
"Any idea whodunnit?" Minty asked, giving an almighty heave of her dolly that sloshed boiling water all over the flagstone floor.
"Nobody knows for sure," Fenella answered, her tone even. "I did hear from the candle boy, Graham, who's friends with Alfred from the stables, whose little brother knows Sir Uriens'squire, who got it from Robin in the kitchen that Iorwerth up at the guest chambers heard the butcher telling that Seward of the guard that he'd seen a slim figure in a cloak loitering near the drawbridge."
Merlin turned that he sat with his back against the door. A serving boy was passing with a plate of bread, cheese and grapes held on one palm above his shoulder. He paid Merlin no attention, having seen him many times below stairs over the years.
Merlin glanced his way with a thoughtless flash of gold irises to snatch a lump of cheese and levitate it across the corridor into his waiting hand. Taking a bite, he chewed on it absently and returned his full attention to the conversation going on beyond the doors.
"-There's been no sign since." Fenella was saying. "Run off into the night and not seen again. Seward told Caradoc that he was said to have been acting very suspicious like."
The three women fell into companionable silence, stirring and jabbing with their dollies like some vicious pack-killing of assorted laundry. It was Beryl who spoke up, breaking the silence with a gravelly snarl:
"Hope they string him up when they get him, for what he did to the poor boy."
Minty and Fenella agreed with varying pitches of grunt.
Outside, Merlin popped the last of his cheese into his mouth and let his head fall back against the door with a light thump. A slim hooded figure? That was hardly a definitive description. He glanced down the hall in the direction of the storerooms and the kitchens.
Some serving girls and boys were making their way towards him and the stairs. Those who partook in late dinners must be about to get theirs judging by the rather delicious-looking meals piled on the plates the servants carried.
Merlin's stomach rumbled. He really wished that he had eaten his chicken earlier.
Once the fleet of servants had drifted by, Merlin pushed himself to his feet and started off down the hall towards the kitchens.
"Merlin!" Somebody called him from behind.
Startled, he spun around, both eyebrows rising to find Fenella leaning out of the laundry room door, watching him.
She held something up - something red balled in her hand. "Catch!"
He did, just managing to catch the red ball flying through the air towards him. Curious, he unrolled it to find that it was his ratty red neckerchief. He had been wondering where it had gotten to. Frowning, he looked up at Fenella.
She flashed him a smile, hardly the shy and retiring type even as her cheeks coloured redder than the constant steam had made them. "Sir Uriens had it in his laundry. Was ranting about moth-eaten rubbish turning up in his drawers."
"Oh." A little indignant, Merlin balled it up and stuffed it in his pocket. "Thanks."
There was a loud coughing behind Fenella, and Beryl appeared over her shoulder looking well steamed. "What you got there?" She queried the girl before raising her eyes and spotting Merlin a little way down the corridor. Her wrinkled, ruddy face cracked into a wide grin, "'allo, Merlin, love!" She bellowed, showing an impressive collection of yellow teeth. "Got some cobbler for yourself and Gaius at home."
Oh really? "Lovely!"
"Come and down and collect it when your not busy being all la-dee-da!"
"La-dee-da? Me? Never!"
Didn't they all know it, too? Especially Fenella and her quick fingers. She may look young and innocent enough, but her wandering hands were well-travelled. As Gwaine had known, also.
The rogue Knight hadn't had to worry about shrieking and dropping whatever he was carrying when they wandered into his personal territory. Even when used to it, and aware that it was coming Merlin knew that his reflexive action as to throw whatever he was holding into the air and twist away. Unfortunately so did all those inclined to pinch him places most wouldn't dare in public. He was quietly glad that there was a good distance between himself and the washerwomen now.
"You should come by and see us more often!" Beryl called to him, "we're missing your lovely smile!"
He obliged her with one and waved before turning and going on his way.
The laundry room was definitely one of the friendliest places in the Citadel.
He swung his arms as he walked, hurrying at a pace down the hall, around the corner and into the kitchens. He didn't slow down, knowing that he would have second thoughts if he did.
As soon as he crossed the threshold he stopped dead, finding himself staring at Audrey's large back across the length of the kitchens. She was putting something in the oven.
And had just finished baking bread going by that beautiful smell.
Merlin smacked his lips and leant to the side to catch a glimpse of the bread tray around her side, where it sat upon the top of the great range. That chicken had better still be there when he got back to Gaius' chambers...
"What do you want?" Audrey straightened, shoving the oven door shut and turned from the range to face down whoever had invaded her sacred domain. Needless to say, her sour face turned even further down at the sight of Camelot's Court Sorcerer. "What are you doing in my kitchen?" She demanded, cutting Merlin off before he had a chance to answer, "up to no good, aren't you? Keep your hands off my pies, and your sticky little fingers out of my puddins'. Thieving little get! Or are you just on the scrounge?" As if from nowhere, she brandished her spoon at him in vicious threat.
The temptation to just go ahead and clobber her with the bread rolls was great, or to pinch one of her 'wonderful' pies simply to get up her nose, but Merlin exercised restraint. As a gesture of peace, he clasped his hands behind his back.
"Don't want anything to eat." He assured her in a level tone which did nothing to appease her dim view of him.
"Why would you come down here if you're not begging for scraps?"
"I don't need to beg for scraps!" Merlin shot back before he could catch himself, affronted by the notion. "I have never begged."
"Then whaddaya want?"
It would be easy to just keep on arguing. The temptation was there, and Audrey was certainly showing no signs of wanting to make peace. Her view of him as a bit dodgy had only gotten worse, turning into an outright grudge once she realised that he was the old man who had insulted her cooking and battered her with a pan. It had taken her a long time to shut up about the prowler in her kitchen, and when she finally twigged, the whole Citadel had known about it, not just Merlin.
He hadn't forgotten how good it had felt to give her a piece of his mind, and as tempting as it was to give her something new to rant and rave about for the rest of the season, he realised that would get him nowhere. He decided to cut straight to the chase.
"I saw Thomas."
Audrey faltered, and lowered her spoon. "... Sad business, that."
Merlin nodded. "I was wondering when you last saw him. Whether he was with anybody?"
"Oh?" She glared at him and waved her spoon. "So that's it! You're down here snooping? Should have known! Always got your nose in where it don't belong! That was Thomas' problem; sticking his nose in places he shouldn't, knowing more'n he ought. See where that gets you? You won't get nothing out of me!"
"Thomas knew something he shouldn't?" Merlin frowned, "like what?"
"Not telling you anything." Audrey folded her arms over her chest , spoon and all, and stuck her nose in the air.
Merlin stared at her.
She stared at him.
He cocked his head to one side and raised both eyebrows.
She screwed up her mouth until it resembled the less attractive end of a duck.
The silence stood, stretching out between them thinner and thinner and thinner -
"Lots of things." She grumbled suddenly, and dropped her arms to her sides. She did not relinquish her spoon. "Things only the people themselves should know."
"Can I have an example?"
"Take, take, take. That's all you lot ever do!"
Whether she meant courtiers, serving boys or sorcerers was unclear. Merlin didn't ask for clarification.
"You going to tell me, or not?"
That she was silenced by that was almost flabbergasting. That she didn't take immediate offence to his tone actually was. She didn't spot his surprise, apparently a little subdued by his attitude now that he had no need to act the fool.
"Well... the places people go after hours. Who they're poppin' off to see on the sly. Where they keep things. Personal things."
Secrets, then? Very interesting. Thomas hadn't seemed the type. Then again, those who seemed least likely to spread information were those that others were most free with it around.
The question was, what did Thomas know? Was it something that could get him killed? "Was there anybody with him when he left tonight?"
"'Ow should I know!? I don't pay attention to the comings and goings of every boy running in and out of here. And what are you still doing in my kitchen? Out!"
Merlin openly rolled his eyes at her shouting, abruptly finding the wooden spoon flying through the air towards his head. He ducked aside in time to see it fly past and clatter off the wall behind. Unimpressed, he raised an eyebrow at the cook.
She jabbed a finger towards the door. "Out!"
He went, but not before a quick flash of gold as he turned.
Audrey shrieked at the impact of a bread roll thwacking her in the back of the head, and grabbed for an empty pan lying discarded on the workbench to her left.
It clattered out into the hallway, just missing Merlin's heels as he leapt a few lurching steps away from it down the hall.
He couldn't help but grin at the string of curses and derogatory names chasing him from the kitchens. Painful as dealing with that woman was, she had given him something to mull over.
Thomas knew things that he should not. It was certainly possible that he had been killed because of knowledge he possessed. Somebody had snapped his neck and pushed him into the river. Why would they do that? Because he knew something about them? Or because he had told them something, and they didn't want anyone else knowing that they knew? What could he possibly know that was worth killing for?
Up ahead, a penny rolled down the stairs. It bounced back from the wall and began to spin. Merlin observed it, watching until it wobbled and fell over. Muffled giggles drifted from the head of the stairs...
He shook his head, and started upwards.
The two boys tried to stifle their snickers, the taller of them glancing quickly around the wall into the corridor beyond.
"He's coming."
Below him, the smaller, and younger boy, who just happened to be Fingal the serving boy, fished in his pocket for the second penny he head earned showing Gilli to the physician's chambers. Picking his moment carefully, he flicked it out into the corridor.
Sir Godfrey saw it roll out in front of him, and bent to pick it up.
Fingal grinned, and looked up at his friend hovering above him. A nod was all the encouragement he needed. He turned his stare on Godfrey, focused, and raised his hand.
"Áscrence*."
The next step Godfrey took sent him crashing to the ground with a loud grunt. He sprawled on the stone floor briefly, dazed and confused, until he heard the snorting giggles from the stairway and hurried to his feet.
The look on his face was murderous to see the two young servants in hysterics at his expense. "You vicious little oiks!"
He started towards them, only to end up in a heap once again under the same spell from Fingal.
The boys collapsed in a giggling heap, unable to help themselves while the older, less friendly and utterly stuck up Knight floundered in his cloak in an attempt to get up.
Godfrey struggled to his feet and went for the boys, and tripped again. "Unruly urchins! I'll teach you some respect!" He roared from the ground.
Fingal let him get up, and opened his mouth to murmur his spell again, when a hand fell on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up to find Merlin standing behind him, staring down at him with a stern expression on his face. The serving boy shifted, aware exactly what that expression meant without a need for words.
'Stop that.'
Fingal turned his eyes on the ground, shamefaced.
Godfrey snatched off his belt and rounded on the two boys, intent on delivering a lesson they would never forget, when he laid eyes on the Court Sorcerer stood behind them. He faltered, but did not drop his belt, nor did the rage leave his face.
Seeing Sir Godfrey was the victim of the boys' torment, Merlin gave a barely audible, knowing huff. There were few Knights as arrogant and self-centred as Sir Godfrey. Most of his ilk had been farmed out to preside over patches of land around the Kingdom, where they didn't have to be listened to or thought about by all and sundry.
Godfrey grunted, but said nothing specific. Neither did he look as though he was about to leave.
After a moment of mutual glaring, Merlin cleared his throat lightly. "Problem, Sir Godfrey?" He ventured, not a hint of mirth or sarcasm in his voice.
The old Sir Knight sputtered with barely contained rage. "You ought to control those disrespectful little imps!" He blustered, pointing a finger at Fingal and the other lad. "Running wild all over the Citadel, doing as they please. They should learn their place, and some respect!"
"They're not mine." Merlin retorted, a little put out that this was somehow his fault. "Why should I control them?"
"They're your kind, are they not? Magic or no, they are servants, and should know their place."
A deep frown settled on Merlin's brow. He wanted to say something, to let loose, but now wasn't the time. He had better things to do than shout at Sir Godfrey. Instead, he sighed, and squeezed Fingal's shoulder gently. "It won't happen again, will it?"
The boy shook his head slowly, definitely somewhat reluctantly. "No. Sorry."
Godfrey said nothing. He replaced his belt around his ample waist and shot a glare at Merlin. "Servants are servants and Peasants are peasants. No matter how one tries to dress them up." With that, he went on his way.
Merlin watched him go, waiting until he had just vanished around the corner to murmur under his breath,
"Áscrence."
The crash of armour and ego was surprisingly loud with an echo.
Merlin cleared his throat loudly and looked down at the giggling serving boys. "It's really not a good idea to annoy Knights. Even ones that are that much of a pompous ass." He ignored the snort of laughter, and got to what was important. "It isn't safe out tonight. You two should stay in one of the bunk rooms downstairs. Don't go home."
Fingal and his friend glanced at one another, clearly curious, but nodded.
Merlin smiled, and ruffled Fingal's hair. "Good. And don't play with magic."
It was getting late by the time he made it back to Gaius' chambers. He definitely had food for thought concerning Thomas' death.
Secrets and intrigue... the possibilities were endless when it came to reasons.
Merlin opened the door without a thought as to where he was going and almost walked straight into Sir Caradoc. The Knight was on his way out and not prepared to stop. He acknowledged Merlin with a respectful nod and side-stepped past him out the door.
Merlin watched him leave, feeling a cold shiver run down his spine. He turned to Gaius where he stood across the chambers by the bench. "Have they found anything?"
The physician shook his head. "Not that I am aware of. He came to inform us that a suspicious figure was seen entering the Citadel not long after Thomas left. We must be careful."
"They think it was the person who killed Thomas?"
Gaius shook his head wearily. "I don't know. He didn't say."
A 'suspicious' figure spotted prowling the Citadel? On a normal day that could apply to any number of people who had every right to be there, including him. Tonight, however?
Merlin glanced between Gaius and Gilli, nothing that George had apparently withdrawn to his lair for the night. Wherever that was. Hopefully it was safe. Most people in the castle locked their doors at night, including those who lived in the servants' quarter. Still, he felt cold.
Something was not right. He hadn't felt right since seeing that necklace for the first time. It was as though a tension had descended, and it wound tighter and tighter with every new piece of information, or incident. With it, Merlin found himself wound tighter and tighter also. Eventually something was going to have to give. The question was, what, and how?
Across the room, his dinner plate remained on the table, almost untouched. Couldn't think clearly on an empty stomach.
"Merlin." Gaius regarded him carefully, giving him 'the look' for good measure. He followed his ward's progress across the chamber, and watched the hasty tearing off of a chicken leg from the lump on the plate. "What are you going to do?"
"Have some chicken."
"And?"
Should he really say? It wasn't as though he couldn't look after himself, but Gaius did not like to be kept in the dark, and did worry about him. "A person was seen on the drawbridge earlier. What if they, and the person spotted entering the Citadel are one and the same?" Without realising it, he began waving his chicken leg the same way Audrey did her spoon, "Cook said that Thomas knew things. The sort of things he shouldn't."
Gaius' eyebrows shot up. "Secrets, you mean?"
Merlin nodded. "Exactly."
"You think the boy may have revealed something to his murderer, and that they have come here, to the Citadel because of what he told them?"
Again Merlin nodded, and took a bite of his chicken.
Gaius didn't quite know what to make of it. Merlin never ceased to astonish him, and was certainly not the idiot many had thought him to be. "As theories go, it's not the most far-fetched you have come up with."
Merlin elected to take that as a compliment. He ripped another bite off his chicken, feeling particularly carnivorous after being so hungry, and eyed Gaius thoughtfully.
The old man did the same to him.
They engaged in a gentle staring competition until the chicken leg was reduced to a bone which Merlin proceeded to gnaw on in a manner that would appal George and flew in the face of good table etiquette everywhere.
By the time the bone was reduced to a state beyond unfit for even Merlin's consumption, Gaius' eyebrow had risen so far it was in danger of entering his hairline. Merlin gave in.
"Well somebody has to go and find out what's going on!"
"And I'm not stopping you." The look Gaius received demanded explanation. "Just promise me that you will stay away from Tiarnan. His magic may not be as powerful as yours, but it is focussed, and it is dangerous."
"Don't worry. I have no intention of getting too close to him."
"See that you don't."
That was meant to be the end of it. All authority had been poured into that closing shot. But Gaius found himself sighing heavily, and setting a look of fond regard on his bull-headed ward. "Be careful, Merlin. Whatever is going on, it is not worth losing your life over."
"No," Merlin corrected him, "it's not worth losing Albion over."
"Just take care." Gaius glanced at Gilli, finding it rather refreshing to have the company of someone who neither chattered incessantly, nor felt the need to blend into the furnishings. "You don't have to do this alone. Not any more."
Funny. That was the second time he had heard that today. Merlin didn't reply. He turned and made for the door, leaving Gaius and Gilli standing in silence in his wake.
After a moment, Gilli shifted, and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Will he be okay?"
"He always has been before." Gaius answered, his tone betraying his doubts as to the streak continuing indefinitely.
Gilli frowned lightly, and raised his eyes to the closed door across the chambers. Beside him, Gaius turned away and resumed tidying away his various phials and instruments for the night. Gilli didn't notice, lost to his thoughts as he was.
The last time they had met, Merlin had saved him from doing something he would have regretted forever. From one outcast to another, Merlin understood his feelings and frustration at having to hide his magic, but Merlin had also been wise enough to know that one had to wait until the time was right, and not force magic's freedom. That had been a valuable service. It had prevented Gilli from becoming something he was not. For that, Gilli knew he would always be grateful.
He owed Merlin a debt. Also, they were friends. It looked as though Merlin could use a friend right now...
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* I like to think Merlin saved Arthur more times than we see purely on the show. Hence all of these examples.
*Áscrence – Cause to stumble/trip up.
NOTE: I'm going to stop predicting when things will be updated. Sticking to them seems utterly impossible, though today IS a Wednesday... I think what I'll do instead is use my very neglected LiveJournal for something other than the occasional scribble posting and post updates on my writing progress. At least then those who are interested in how a story is going can get some idea :) There's a link on my profile, so don't be shy.
Camelot has so many people milling about in the background, or transporting meagre belongings, or ogling spectacles, or just looking bedraggled in the show that there must be some rather wonderful characters among them. The washerwomen and the serving boys to name but a few. I figured that if Merlin wants info, he would know where to get it ;) The next few chapters are my very favourite, so I hope that they please :D
I'm off to play in the Brecons and the Forest of Dean. It'll rain on the Beacons. It's Wales. It always rains here. On the flip side, there's nothing quite so lovely as Speech House Lake just after nightfall :) See you in a few days! xxx