Towards the end of the Council meeting, Arthur began to fidget, impatient for things to finish.
"Your Majesty?" the Chancellor of the Exchequer asked again. "I have all the orders I need to begin the works. We can repair the devastation wrought by Morgana and the Southrons in a matter of months. But our treasury is near empty. Our people's crops have been razed, so you will be feeding them out of your stores this season. You have ordered aid sent to Ealdor, and we still do not know the extent of the funds misappropriated by Lord Agravaine. What am I to pledge for credit?"
"There is gold in the caverns under Camelot," said Lord Antores. "And treasures in the vaults. We could dig for them."
Gaius said, "And reawaken Cornelius Sigan, or some other horror? Disturb some cursed object, and unleash a magical devastation we do not understand?"
Arthur said, "Bring me the Master of the Knights Templar."
"I'm afraid we can't, sire," said Sir Leon. "The Master has gone across the sea, to lend support to his brothers. The Frankish king has commanded their Order to answer rumours of-" Leon fumbled in his tunic, and brought out a slip of parchment. "Heresy, witchcraft, sodomy, necromancy, apostasy, idolatry..."
"God's Wounds," muttered Lord Waldin. "If they have time to get up to all that, and still defend the Holy Sepulchre from the heathen, one must admire their stamina, if nothing else."
Lord Antores said, "'Tis a wily thing, to have them charged for heresy. We must pray the charges are true, and that the Templars are excommunicated from Holy Mother Church, for then King Arthur might confiscate all their lands and revenues for himself. But alas, in the meantime, we have no income from their estates."
Arthur drummed his fingers on the table. "Then summon the Chief Rabbin of the Avramites."
The Chancellor shook his head. "There will be no more help from that quarter, sire. Just last winter they drew up a contract with the Crown for a thousand pounds of silver, to help rebuild our city after Cenred's invasion. We are still paying interest on that loan. They assure me that they have no resources left."
"A barefaced lie!" exclaimed Lord Waldin. "Those crafty moneylenders always have more in their pockets! King Uther knew how to deal with them. Take their Chief Rabbin into custody, and accuse him of desecrating the Host in his heathen rites. To pay his ransom, his people will change copper into gold, more easily than Our Lord changed water into wine."
"Remember yourself, Lord Waldin!" said Arthur. "I will not take a spiritual man prisoner to extort money from his kinfolk. We are knights, not a pack of outlaws." Arthur spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "So we have no choice. Send to the Florentine envoy."
Lord Antores spluttered, "Sire! Another loan from those cloth merchants? He will ask a great deal as collateral. This time he will demand from you a mortgage of land with incomes."
"Then he shall have it," said Arthur.
Lord Waldin added, "Sire, I must protest. You cannot keep handing out your father's lands like this."
"My lands, Lord Waldin." Arthur's voice was mild, but there was steel in it.
Lord Waldin subsided, looking embarrassed.
"I cannot be a king with no coin to feed my people or arm my knights," said Arthur. "We must rebuild the walls of Camelot and replant the fields. Better to be a king in a reduced kingdom than a beggar ruling a field of corpses."
Lord Antores said testily, "And you have given up your claim over the lands Caerleon stole from us! And signed Gedref over to Princess Mithian of Nemeth! Those were some of our wealthiest duchies!"
"I wanted peace," said Arthur patiently.
"It will certainly be peaceful when you are king over just two villages and a ditch! Need I remind you that Caerleon borders my earldom? Queen Annis' warriors have now taken over my castles. You granted her lands which my family have spent decades defending, spilling rivers of our blood to do so. Your father promised the borderlands to me-"
"He had no right to promise you what was not in his power to give," said Arthur.
"Well," said Lord Antores. "I only hope I am wrong, sire. 'Twould be an evil thing for you if Princess Mithian also uses Gedref to raise an army against you! They say she is kin to the Emperor of Byzantium, and can call upon his horseback archers through ancient treaties. The last thing you want is for more Easterners to carve apart your kingdom. God knows there are too many foreigners running around already."
Arthur made a sign that the meeting was over, and his advisors began to file out.
"Gaius," said the king, stopping the aged physician, before he could shuffle out. "How is the Southron?"
"Still mute, sire."
"Then make him speak, Gaius, and quickly. He is the only survivor from among their forces. I need information on Morgana. Any delay could give her an advantage over us. I will not lose this kingdom again."
"Sire, the young man is in shock. Injuries of the mind are not so easily treated as those of the body."
"If you cannot heal him, hand him over to me. I will question him myself."
"I'm afraid I cannot permit that, sire. Further pressure at this stage could make him deteriorate-"
"You cannot permit that?"
"As a physician, sire, my duty is to preserve the welfare of my charge-"
"And as a loyal subject of your king, your duty is to follow your sovereign's command, isn't it, Gaius? And I command you to make the Southron well enough to speak. All he must do is tell me what he knows. What happens to him after that is not my concern."
"Sire-"
"The man conspired with Agravaine and Morgana to take my kingdom from me. He would have killed me had he gotten hold of me. The only sentence I can pass against him is execution. Why labour so hard to nurse a life I must take in the end? Only keep him breathing until he speaks, Gaius. That is all I ask of you."
There was silence for a while.
"You have three days," said Arthur, eventually. "Then I will hand him over to the dungeons. If you cannot open his mouth with your healing arts, well, there are other specialists who know how to loosen a man's tongue. I believe you remember your encounter with Witchfinder Aredian?"
Gaius looked at Arthur with an expression he'd never worn before. "My lord, I had always thought you took after your mother, but now I see there is more of your father in you."
"Perhaps that's as it should be. My father destroyed the Druids, the High Priestesses and the dragons together, while never losing his grip on his throne. And I? I cannot even win a decisive victory against a single sorceress! Now leave me. I tire of looking at you."
Arthur sat at his desk, and opened his mother's book once again.
Doth not wisdom cry? And understanding put forth her voice?
She standeth in the top of high places, by the way in the places of the paths.
She crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors.
Arthur put out his hand again, tracing the fine calligraphy with his fingers, as if he could feel his mother's hands through the pages she had touched. How often had she leafed through this book? It contained the offices of the hours, which meant it was intended for use in prayer several times a day.
Agravaine had said that his sister was deeply religious, and that she had desired to enter a convent. She had been learned in many languages, and could recite countless poems and hymns by heart. Beyond that Agravaine would say little. Uther, too, had forbidden all talk of his late wife. Arthur longed to know so much about her. He could command Gaius to open his lips, now.
Doth not wisdom cry? She crieth at the gates…
Why can't I hear her? Arthur thought. He listened again, but the only sound was the sighing of the wind through distant leaves.
Merlin…
Merlin!
Merlin tossed and turned in his bed, bunching his pillow against his ears.
You cannot shut out my voice, young warlock. Have you forgotten that I too, speak with the Dragontongue? I can throw my voice across the void also!
Arthur holds the sword of the High King in his hand, but the witch Morgana yet lives! I have tasted her poison on the wind.
I revealed myself to the people of Camelot to save your life. I put myself in danger! Arthur will hunt me now, for his people will tell him that the shadow of a dragon fell over them in the forest. I have risked my life for you time and time again, Merlin. You have put Arthur on the throne - now make him restore the Old Religion! I have waited too long to be denied now!
Merlin saw a glow from Gaius' chamber, and staggered out of his room. The physician was once again at his patient's bedside, examining the prone figure by candlelight.
"I hope the light didn't wake you, Merlin," Gaius said quietly.
"No. I couldn't sleep."
Gaius nodded, and held a pinch of salts under the Southron lad's nose. Tears welled in the youth's eyes, but otherwise there was little reaction.
"Nothing I've tried works," said Gaius.
"You said yourself that these types of maladies take time to heal."
"Time I'm afraid he may not have. Perhaps you can do something about this, Merlin."
Merlin was shocked. "Gaius, I've seen you let people die rather than let me interfere with my… talents."
"A natural death is one thing, Merlin. Arthur has given me three days to make this boy speak, else he will be given to the dungeon master. I fear what will happen to him then."
"I don't understand you, Gaius," said Merlin. "You watch people die in cold blood all the time, but the way you treat this invader makes it seem as if he were your own child. Your conscience chooses the strangest times to make an appearance. I can see neither rhyme nor reason to it."
"A quality we have in common," said Gaius. "Well, if you're going to be up, might as well make yourself useful, instead of sniping. Boil some oats well, and bring me the water. Since he won't take solid food, I've been giving him infusions."
Merlin grunted, but he quickly went to grab a pot and fill it from the sack of oats. Mercifully, the roaring in his head had stopped for the time being.
Early the next morning, when it was barely light enough to see, a huddled mass of commoners were already packed into the courtyard of the Citadel. As the side doors opened, the crowd surged forward, but a couple of guardsmen crossed their halberds and warded the press of humanity off.
Guinevere came down the steps followed by several maidservants, all bearing large baskets. Behind them came Sir Elyan and six knights in fine tunic and hose, bearing large oaken staves.
At the sight of Guinevere, several of the larger and stronger refugees pushed forward, and thrust large, grubby hands through gaps in the ranks of the guardsmen.
"Remember," said Guinevere, "these people are desperate, so do not judge them harshly. Be gentle yet firm. Distribute the bread as fairly as you can, and see that the small and weak are not pushed aside."
The maidservants murmured assent, and, backed up by Sir Elyan and his men, they began to pass through the crowd, handing out bread and cheese.
We have so little for such a large number, Gwen thought. And summer is already upon us, but the crops are gone, and the animals slaughtered. How will we survive the year? How could Morgana do this to us? What happened to the woman I once knew?
In a matter of minutes everything was gone.
As Guinevere retraced her steps, a page clad in fine blue livery ran up to her.
"Mistress," he said, "Lady Agnes of Belmont summons you to an audience with her. It touches a matter which the king has entrusted her with, and is of the utmost importance."
Belmont, Guinevere thought in surprise. She knew that old castle well.
What does Sir Leon's grandmother want with me?