Chapter 13

Arthur and several of his advisors were holding court as morning aged into afternoon. Arthur sighed. Once again the problems of the court were overwhelming to him. He hated this inaction, this planning phase. He knew it had to be done, hell it was probably even more important than an actual battle, but still. His body ached to move. Just as he was going to call it off for a break when there was a loud commotion in the hallway.

Lord Byron looked at the door with concern, "That sounded like my son," he said.

The whole room stopped as a young man, close to Arthur's age pushed his way through the guard and half ran into the room.

"Malcolm," Lord Byron said. "What on Earth?"

"Father," Malcolm said and then he bowed to Arthur, "My liege. Excuse my rude interruption. I humbly request fresh horses for myself and my men. We have urgent business that cannot wait."

"What business?" Arthur asked.

Malcolm looked murderous, "It will take too long to explain my lord. I need to ride out now, my lord please. Time is of the most importance."

"You need to explain yourself," Arthur said flatly.

Malcolm looked flummoxed and a stammered for a moment. But then he said, "My lord, it was my duty to escort my mother, my sister, and my cousin, Lord Emrys, to Ealdor to fetch my mother's sister, Hunith back to our estate."

Lord Byron paled. "What happened?"

Malcolm looked over to his father. "We were ambushed on the way back, by Saxons. There were at least two hundred of them. We managed to elude them at first, we were on horseback and they on foot. But in our escape, we stumbled into their encampment."

"Your mother and sister?" Byron asked, interrupting.

"They're fine, as is Lady Hunith,"

"How did you manage to escape?" Arthur asked.

"Merlin," Malcolm said turning back to Arthur. "He told me he'd hold them off long enough for me to get them all to safety. During our escape we found the main road to Camelot, so we rode straight here."

"Merlin did what?" Arthur nearly yelled.

"We bought us time to get away," Malcolm said.

"How?" Arthur asked, exasperation running through the simple word with malice.

Malcolm didn't answer directly. He stammered for a moment, until he said, "I didn't see what he did, sire," he whispered, his eyes on the floor.

"You just left him there?" Arthur shouted.

"I had no choice my lord. He told me that he had a plan. I needed to get my mother, my aunt, and my sister away. I could only imagine what horrors the Saxon filth would have done to them. Merlin said that he could hold them off long enough for them to get away. And if he couldn't hold them back, I needed to be there to defend my mother and sister. What choice did I have, sire?"

Arthur agreed, but he didn't want too. Anger and concern were fighting for top place in his chest. He turned around, taking several deep breaths to calm himself down.

Malcolm said, "I can't leave him there my lord. I must go back, now that my family is safe. And to do that, I need fresh horses. Please my lord. It is my intention to ride back to him this very moment."

Leon spoke up from his place at the table, "Where were these men encamped?"

"To the north of Camelot, a half of day's ride along the main road."

Leon said, "My Lord, I suggest…"

Arthur cut him off, "That we ride out, right now. Leon, assemble a troupe of fifty horsemen. Lord Byron, prepare another group of soldiers to leave in the morning on foot." Then he turned to Malcolm, "Are you fit to ride?"

Malcolm nodded. "I would not leave my worst enemy to that fate, much less my kin. I ride with you."

The young man's face showed nothing but anguish. As angry as Arthur was about him leaving Merlin to the whims of the Saxons, Arthur knew it must have cost him dearly to leave Merlin there. He wouldn't have done it if there had been any other way.

Arthur's chest burned at the thought of Merlin's idiocy. Anger poured out of his very skin. What, in name of all that was holy, did Merlin think he was going to do to distract an encampment of 200 soldiers?

Fast on the heels of that thought was the realization that whatever Merlin did, it worked, which meant that Merlin was probably dead.

Arthur rubbed his hand on his forehead, gripped his other hand on a chair at the table. Arthur couldn't stand to think what the Saxons must have done to Merlin after his family got away. Grief pierced his gut, raw and hot, like a physical wound.

People left the rooms in a hurry, leaving only Lord Byron and a few other nobles still around the table. Arthur didn't leave. He made brief eye contact with Gaius. Gaius looked stunned. He sat at that table staring at his hands.

"My Liege?" Byron asked. When he didn't respond Lord Byron said, "Prince Arthur?"

Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Lord Byron concerned face staring back at him.

"Are you all right my lord?"

Arthur didn't answer, truthfully he couldn't.

Apparently he didn't need too.

"My Lord," Byron said in a fatherly tone, "We don't know if Merlin's dead. We don't know anything except that he was able to buy enough time for my son to get my wife, Merlin's mother, and my daughter to safety. I don't know how he managed it. You don't know how he managed it. But it was done. That is all we know for certain. Stick with the facts. Don't grieve him before you know that he's dead."

Arthur looked up into Byron's face. Byron looked concerned for him, something he saw quite often between other fathers and sons, even between Merlin and Gaius, just never from his own father, especially now. Byron squeezed his shoulder.

"And if my nephew did sacrifice his life to save them, there will be time to grieve, after we're safe."

"You talk of grief?" Camlan, Uther's advisor said. "Why would Arthur grieve a servant? Surely he will find another servant to replace him in a trice. Any servant would gladly serve the future king. This issue with the servant is a side issue."

Byron's eyes flashed angrily, "You believe that my nephew's life is a side issue?"

Camlan raised his hands, "I said that badly. I knew Merlin. He was a good man, loyal to Arthur. His sacrifice is heroic. All I meant is that right now Arthur's concern should be to drive these invaders from our land."

"Arthur shouldn't care about his servant?" Byron asked carefully.

"Of course he should care, but his job is to the kingdom."

"How can he tend to his duty for the kingdom if he's not allowed to care about the people in his life?"

"Merlin was just a servant."

Byron bristled, "Arthur has no one else to care about. You have isolated him since he was little more than a baby. What did you idiots think would happen? I talked to Uther about this, years ago. I told Uther then that Arthur needed friends. Children his own age to grow and play with."

"Ridiculous," the noble said.

"That is exactly what Uther said – that he didn't need friends. This boy who had no mother to love him, and a father busy running a kingdom. The first time Arthur actually started spending time with someone about his age, even if that person was only a servant, he finally found companionship. He can't help but care. He's a man, just like the rest of us."

Something of Gwen's talk from a few nights back flashed into Arthur's head.

"If my nephew has been killed, it is proper for Arthur to grieve. He's a human being first." Byron turned back to Arthur. "Merlin was very fond of you sire, otherwise he wouldn't have stayed as your servant. He had enough talents to have made another path for himself had he wanted. He chose to stay with you. I didn't quite understand when I first met him. Now I understand why.

"Find him, my liege, I beg you," Byron said.

Arthur saw the pain in his eyes and realized that at that moment, they felt the same thing for the same reason. Arthur gave the man a nod and then he turned and left the room.