Chapter 8

Cold and Tired

The waif looked like Merlin. His eyes were brown, not blue, his hair a lighter brown than Merlin's and his ears certainly didn't poke out. King Arthur stopped, joining the guards and a few townspeople warming themselves by an open brazier. He stared at the peasant boy in layers of tattered clothing who looked too cold, too bony and whose eyes were too large in his thin face as his fingers, apparently numb with cold fumbled to bring a small biscuit to his lips. Why did he remind the king so strongly of his friend? The boy looked cold and tired.

Cold. And tired. It was that time of year. The days were short and the nights long. Less daylight. Less sunshine. Less warmth. Of course he was cold. And tired.

But Arthur was disturbed. He hadn't failed to notice that the poor of his people suffered in the winter. Their living situations were the bare minimum of warmth and comfort. They didn't have as much to eat as during the warm months of plenty. Illness took many each year. Another skinny, wide-eyed youth appeared and tugged on the jacket of the first. The boy tucked the last of his biscuit into his cheek and ducked between two buildings to disappear. Why did Merlin resemble them so strongly? He was in a better situation. He lived in the castle! He lived with Gaius! -a renowned physician and favorite of the court. Who better to entrust with his friend's health and well-being?

A horrid memory flashed before his eyes. Merlin's face frosted over, his body unresponsive, eyes wide and staring. The Dorocha had nearly stolen away his friend. In the end, Merlin had survived but as the winter had progressed it had become clear that his encounter with the dead had stolen away his resilience. Spring had arrived none too soon, in Arthur's opinion. Fortunately, Merlin's strength had returned along with the warmer temperatures. The crisis had passed. It was forgotten. Until the first real cold snap of October. He couldn't endure another winter watching Merlin try to hide illness and exhaustion. He couldn't stand the stress of worrying every time Merlin was late whether he would show up or whether Gaius would send some other servant to cover for him. He couldn't face listening to more of Merlin's obvious lies about his health as the pocketful of clinking potion bottles nicked from Gaius' stores gave the truth away.

He returned to the castle and summoned the steward to his chambers.

"Gaius is very important to the health of our kingdom. I want to see him better supported. See to it that the kitchens send stores to him, enough for him and his assistant. Staples of grain and eggs. And meat. And meals when his time is taken caring for patients. Enough that he may have plenty of strength and good health as he tends to us all. He is aging and I would not lose him before his time."

"I'll see to it, Sire."

Arthur relaxed, somewhat relieved.

Gaius loved Merlin like a son. Undoubtedly, better nutrition would now find its way into his mouth as well.

Although it was getting late, Arthur made his way to Gaius' chambers to inform him of the changes only to find the old physician leaning over a flushed, feverish young woman on the patient bed and Merlin curled up asleep on a pallet on the floor behind him, loosely clutching a woolen blanket around his shoulders. In the flickering firelight he looked to be fast asleep despite the discomfort of his bony body lying upon a thin mattress on a hard floor. Gaius held up his hand for quiet.

"How may I be of service, my Lord?" He whispered, straightening.

"I'm sorry to disturb you at this time of night, Gaius. I-I just came to inform you.. of.. Why is he on the floor?" Arthur responded in hushed tones.

"I'm afraid he's caught a chill, Sire."

"And so the best place for him is a cold floor?"

"Sire," Gaius' tone admonished him, "it's warmer there than in his room."

"At least give him another blanket!"

He strode across the room and up the few steps to Merlin's room. There was nothing more atop the bed.

"He insisted on giving his other blanket to the young lady, here," Gaius explained, "but you're right, Sire. If you would please take one off my bed? He can't object to it now that he's asleep."

The king shook his head.

"No. This is ridiculous. You should be better equipped than this. Treating patients shouldn't require this sort of personal sacrifice. I'll speak to the steward immediately about having more blankets and bedding provided for your needs. I had actually come to let you know that a portion of your meals will now be supplied by the kitchens. I spoke with the steward about it earlier. We need you to stay well, Gaius. We rely on you and I worry that you take on too much and, also, the years are-are passing. And well, I just want to make sure you're well supplied and taken care of. You're an honored and valued member of the royal household, and it just won't do to -oh, you've need of more firewood too-"

Gaius watched, eyebrow raised, as the king delivered his somewhat rambling and distracted speech without once taking his eyes from the young man on the floor in front of the fireplace.