If there was one thing Arthur was absolutely and completely convinced of, it was that Merlin could be trusted. Arthur would stake his life on Merlin's loyalty and integrity.
As royal manservant, Merlin had access to everything relating to Arthur, be it his documents, his food, or his money. It would have never occurred to Arthur, in a thousand years, that Merlin should not be trusted with any of it. Merlin wouldn't sell information he had seen on a parchment on Arthur's desk; he wouldn't poison Arthur's dinner, and he would never, of this Arthur was completely and utterly convinced, steal Arthur's money.
Or so he thought, until the day of the Incident. It was a shocking enough occurrence that the event deserved capitalization. In fact, the Incident had such a profound impact on Arthur that it very nearly changed his view of Merlin's character.
A day after having seen Merlin at the market, Arthur returned early from a meeting with his father and found the doors to his chambers locked. Normally, that wouldn't be any sort of problem. But Arthur had left his key ring with Merlin, who was supposed to be in Arthur's chambers right now, pottering about. Arthur could have knocked to be let in, but didn't much feel like playing petitioner at his own doors.
Perhaps Merlin had entered through the side entrance through the antechamber.
Arthur turned around, retraced his steps, then went through one of the narrow servants' corridors. Sure enough, he found the door there unlocked. Arthur entered the antechamber and walked over to the curtain that led to the main room. He was not actually feeling the least bit suspicious and was certainly not aiming to conceal himself, but he happened to be quiet enough to walk in without Merlin noticing.
Maybe Merlin also failed to notice Arthur's arrival because he was too occupied. He was busy, as it looked, stealing from Arthur.
On the table in the main room stood a small metal coffer. Arthur's personal strongbox, filled with sacks of coins and the occasional jewel. It was open, unlocked with the key Arthur kept in his desk, which was in turn locked with another key usually attached to Arthur's belt. But he had left the key ring with Merlin. He often did, no longer bothering with detaching whatever key his manservant needed that day to access the armoury or a storage room or the library. Arthur simply handed all of them over to Merlin, knowing he would never abuse that trust.
But what else could he be witnessing here but Merlin stealing? Arthur hadn't ordered him to retrieve money to pay some merchant. He hadn't given Merlin leave to take out his wages from Arthur's funds instead of going through the steward. He hadn't asked Merlin to count the coins and cross-check them with Arthur's records. Merlin had no valid reason to be looking at his money.
Especially with such a guilty look on his face.
Arthur should confront him at once. He should make his presence known and demand an explanation.
But he did not. Instead, he took a step back and slipped behind the curtain, standing in its shadow as if he were the common thief, not Merlin. From his vantage point, Arthur watched through the slit in between door and fabric, heart beating hard and fast in his chest.
Merlin's hands were on the lid of the coffer. He was staring at the money in front of him, teeth worrying away at his lower lip. It seemed Arthur had caught him right before the act. The bags still appeared to be tied closed and Merlin was clearly considering them, perhaps thinking about which one to open, or how much he could take without Arthur noticing.
Arthur would certainly realise, at some point, that the numbers weren't adding up anymore, but if Merlin played it smart, Arthur would chalk it up to a miscalculation and brush it off. Because the alternative would have been to consider that Merlin (the only one who had direct enough access) had stolen it, and that would have never occurred to Arthur before this moment.
Silently, he watched Merlin consider Arthur's money, apprehension sitting hard and tight in his stomach. He didn't know what he would do if Merlin went through with it. He didn't want to find out.
Unbearably long seconds passed until Merlin abruptly closed the strongbox.
"No," he said to himself, and Arthur almost sighed in relief. Merlin had been tempted, sorely tempted. But he hadn't done it. He hadn't stolen from Arthur. He had caught himself just in time and not abused Arthur's trust.
Far less anxious – though no less disturbed – Arthur watched Merlin return the coffer and its key to their rightful places, then quickly retreated to pretend to be entering the chambers just now. This time, he made sure to slam the door a bit.
"Merlin," he called out, aiming for his usual tone of authority mixed with arrogance. "Why does the Prince have to enter his own chambers through the side entrance?"
Merlin was busying himself with collecting laundry and throwing it in a basket. When he turned, he looked tense and distinctly pale except for the lingering redness about his nose. Clearly, his near-theft had left him shaken. It was surprisingly soothing to see. It underscored the fact that Merlin was not terribly good at being deceitful and that he was not somebody who would ever steal from Arthur under normal circumstances
But it had been a close call. Much too close a call. Which meant the current circumstances had to be far from normal.
"I'm sorry, my lord," Merlin said, then coughed. The lack of sarcasm and ready use of honorific fit his overall shaken demeanour.
Arthur immediately took pity on both Merlin and especially himself. After what he had just witnessed, he wouldn't be able to keep up an appearance of normalcy for long. "You look dreadful. Why don't you call it a day? You seem unwell."
Merlin gave him a wonky smile. "Didn't know you cared," he said, but his usual cheek fell flat.
"Well, I can't have you collapse in my chambers," Arthur drawled. "I told you a week ago you should be wearing that cloak, and now you're paying for your own foolishness."
"I know," murmured Merlin, then coughed again, as if on cue. "All right," he added, "I'm going. I'll arrange for somebody else to bring you dinner."
With that he disappeared through the antechamber, taking the laundry basket with him.
Arthur waited until he had heard the door, then walked over to the desk. Merlin had left Arthur's key ring there, as was their usual arrangement. On a whim, Arthur returned to the side entrance and locked it from the inside, then went to retrieve the coffer key from within his desk. After heaving the strongbox down from its place on the wardrobe, he settled down and went about meticulously counting the coins inside, comparing the numbers to the sums on his personal records. Just as he had thought, everything was in order. Merlin had not stolen a single copper. With a sigh, Arthur closed the lid of the coffer and leaned back, adopting a thinking pose.
Why on Earth, after two years of service, would Merlin turn around and risk his good standing with Arthur by considering theft? Did he really need money so very badly?
A sudden sense of clarity jolted Arthur. The three clues of the past week suddenly aligned in his head, painting a bigger picture. The missing cloak. The volunteer work. The argument with the merchant.
Yes, Merlin desperately needed money. So desperately, in fact, that he – and Arthur could hardly believe he was considering this – might have sold the cloak Arthur had gifted him, asked Master Mave for extra work, and trawled through the sparse late autumn forests to find something of value.
Lords, but Merlin was in trouble. Serious trouble. The kind of trouble that would lead to Merlin going to all these lengths and still finding himself tempted to steal from Arthur, rather than ask him for help.
That last thought hurt.
Arthur thought that, in spite of their usual banter and roughhousing, Merlin knew he could come to him with anything. Hells, Arthur had risked his life for Merlin, had gone to Ealdor to protect Merlin's home, had defied his father many times over to protect Merlin in some way or the other. If Merlin needed money, he would have only had to say so, and Arthur would have given it to him!
He would have demanded to know the reason, of course.
Arthur shifted in the chair, abandoning the thinking pose in favour of tapping away at the desk with one hand while propping up his head with the other.
There was the crux of the matter. What reason could Merlin have to urgently need money? Enough of it that selling off herbs and a high-quality cloak or working extra hours wasn't enough?
Hunith, Arthur thought. Had she fallen ill? Gaius would have treated her free of charge, surely. Had the harvest been so bad this year that she wouldn't make it over the winter without Merlin's support? But Merlin could have easily asked Arthur's assistance for that. Arthur would have personally brought Hunith any supplies she needed, if he had to. Merlin had to know that much.
No, it had to be something serious, something Merlin would be ashamed or scared to admit to.
Arthur looked about the room, searching for inspiration among his own possessions.
Merlin was rather clumsy, wasn't he? Perhaps he had broken something. Something expensive, something of value in the castle which he felt he needed to replace without anybody finding out. But Merlin had broken a few things before, most of them Arthur's own, and he had always been honest about it, straightforward and very apologetic, too. And Arthur liked to think he had always reacted reasonably enough to alleviate any fears that he might severely punish Merlin for a simple, honest mistake.
What else, if not that?
Arthur's eyes wandered until they caught on the set of polished wine goblets always set out on the sideboard.
Merlin tended to go the tavern, correct? Gaius had told Arthur as much, just once or twice, when he had been looking for his wayward manservant. Had Merlin racked up a huge tab at The Rising Sun and was now unable to pay off the debt? But for all the teasing Arthur tended to do, Merlin had never shown up hungover to work and he certainly wasn't a drunkard. Otherwise, Arthur would have seen Merlin sneak a drink during an outing or help himself to Arthur's wine at dinner.
No, Merlin wasn't the drinking type.
Gambling, perhaps? Arthur knew the stories, of men becoming addicted to dice or cards, playing until they had lost everything down to their boots and were still left begging for another round. Perhaps Merlin hadn't sold the cloak but lost it over a bad hand or a streak of terrible luck. It was not an entirely unlikely scenario and Arthur decided to hold onto that idea for now.
What else could be going on with Merlin apart from that?
Again, Arthur shifted in the chair. He ran a hand through his hair, some of the strands catching on his mother's ring.
A girl? A demanding girl, one who expected lavish gifts? Arthur immediately dismissed the idea, then thought better of it. Merlin had never, in all their time together, mentioned a girl. Arthur had taken that to mean that Merlin either wasn't interested in women – Arthur wasn't ignorant enough not to know there were such men – or that he was simply too shy or too busy to carry on with one of the maids or lower town girls. But perhaps Merlin did have a special someone, someone he hadn't mentioned to Arthur in fear of being teased, or chastised. He might have feared that the Prince would not approve of a liaison outside wedlock. Arthur wouldn't have cared, except… He grimaced. If Merlin's girl was with child… He shook his head and didn't follow that thought further. He did, however, hold onto the idea of a girl being involved. Unfortunately, it made an alarming amount of sense.
Gambling, a girl – was there anything else?
If so, Arthur had run out of ideas. Without gathering more clues or, even better, some actual evidence, he could likely spend the rest of his life racking his brain.
Abruptly, he stood, suddenly filled with an urge to move. He ended up pacing about the room, all the while mulling over the mystery his manservant had become.
What to do?
The most direct approach would be to confront Merlin. Except that Merlin would likely deny anything was going on, then double down on his efforts to hide everything from Arthur. Too risky an approach, if the most honourable one.
A less direct approach, then. Arthur could have somebody make enquiries, at the tavern or among the servants. Arthur would have to choose someone discreet and trustworthy. Guinevere? No, she and Merlin were too close; she might not be able to keep this from him for long. Leon? Yes, there was a reliable man. The knight would do his best not to draw too much attention as he investigated around the town and castle.
There were also those enquiries Arthur could make himself. He would talk to the steward about Merlin's wages, to check if he had been regularly paid. The man could also tell him if Merlin had asked for money in advance, or some such thing. Arthur would also ask the masters in the castle about any extra work Merlin might have taken on, like he had apparently done for Master Mave.
All that might give Arthur the information he needed to fathom out what on Earth had got into Merlin.
Determined to get to the bottom of this, Arthur went to put away the coffer and lock up its key in his desk. He attached his keyring to this belt, then winced when a thought occurred to him: He would be better off not giving Merlin all of his keys until he had found out what was going on. It wouldn't do to tempt him again.
It would be like two years ago, when Merlin had been nothing but an insolent peasant thrust into the position of royal manservant, completely unprepared. Back when Arthur had detached the individual keys as needed, filled with distrust and suspicion.
He grimaced, then sighed, a sound coming from deep within his chest. Suddenly feeling incredibly weary, Arthur rubbed a hand down his face until it came to rest across his mouth.
Merlin nearly stealing from Arthur. How on Earth had it come to this?