A Good Man is Hard to Find

Four

At dawn, the castle bells rang loudly, startling them from troubled dreams. Merlin opened his eyes to find Gwen already on her feet.

"Something's happening."

He lurched upright and followed her into the street. What seemed like half the city were out there, herded by soldiers, moving up the steep streets to the castle. The bells used to ring for coronations, and to warn of invasion, and to announce weddings, royal births, military victories... and executions.

~/~/~/~/~

"Morgana, you need to show that you are strong, decisive..." Agravaine nagged her. She strode ahead of him, half-listening.

"What I need is to weed out my enemies. I will draw Emrys into the open, Agravaine. I will trap Emrys, and then I assure you, I will not hesitate to kill my brother."

She emerged onto the balcony and watched the townspeople begin pouring into the courtyard below. She wanted everyone to see this. Somewhere in the crowd, Emrys would be lurking – his appearance masked, perhaps, or hooded or disguised with magic. She was confident that the spectacle would tempt him into the open.

~/~/~/~/~

Sleep was a poor, thin comfort in the dungeons. At the first peal of the bells, all four prisoners were wide awake.

"Funny time for a wedding," Gwaine muttered, trying to stretch the stiffness out of his joints.

"Something has changed," Arthur rasped. He glared intently at the tiny window in the opposite cell, as though some clue might appear there. Something had broken the stalemate and pushed Morgana into action.

The guards found Arthur already on his feet. As they ushered him toward the exit, Gaius called his name with sudden anguish. The young king looked over his shoulder. Very softly, he promised "We'll meet again, old friend."

Elyan watched Gaius shed a tear, and exchanged a glance with Gwaine. The old man's reaction startled him. The other knight frowned. "The bells," he said. "Something is different today."

~/~/~/~/~

Merlin and Gwen found a shadowy corner of the crowded courtyard, shrouded in their peasant cloaks. Gwen's trembling was so violent she seemed unable to speak. Merlin felt as cold and hollow as a statue. A few people seemed to be in a feast-day humour, giddy with anticipation. Most, though, seemed paralysed in horror.

Morgana appeared on the balcony, flanked by Helios and Agravaine. A few brave people hissed. From such a distance, Merlin could barely make out the twist of irritation in her lips, but he clearly saw her shift uncomfortably from side to side. Morgana, he had always suspected, was more of a wounded child than a subtle politician. Her last, brief reign, under Uther's imposing shadow, had been a reign of terror – lashing out against her despised father. Now, despite the horror stories feeding the gossip mill in the browbeaten city, she seemed to harbour at least some genuine desire to be a successful queen. It upset her that the populace were against her, Merlin mused. And Arthur was more difficult to hate than Uther – though he could be high-handed, arrogant and insecure, it was hard to ignore the young king's genuine, earnest instinct for justice and compassion. Morgana hadn't yet killed her brother, and that spoke of reluctance. Ever the optimist, Merlin wondered whether something might yet be salvaged from all this.

Then Arthur appeared in the square, and his forgiving sentiments for the self-styled queen faded away.

~/~/~/~/~

Arthur squinted as they pushed him into the light. Eyes turned on him from every corner of the courtyard, and he was acutely conscious that he was pale, filthy and exhausted. The courtyard was almost full, despite the city's depleted population. Clinging onto calm as a man tossed in a sea-storm might cling to a raft, he scanned the sea of faces – anxious, shocked, fearful faces. There was no gallows, no apparent chopping block, no pyre waiting for him. On a scaffold below the royal balcony, there was a whipping pole.

A shudder wracked his frame and he stopped walking. Since his capture, he had been piecing together the politics of the situation with all the logical detachment he could manage, and to a mind trained since childhood in tactics, it was quite clear that execution should be swift, and public. He had expected that, had done all he could to prepare himself. But public torture, public humiliation – this was a cruelty he had not expected from Morgana, his childhood ally.

He was shoved forwards and reluctantly picked up his pace. Every eye in the courtyard followed him. They were sympathetic eyes, mostly – the common people may not love him, but they feared Morgana, and they feared what her reign would bring them when all hope of Arthur's return had been extinguished.

~/~/~/~/~

Gwen gripped Merlin's arm with ruthless strength. Arthur was white as a ghost, his eyes red and sore, blinking owlishly in the bright sunshine. The remains of a trail of dried blood still adorned his cheek from their flight through the caves, and his wrists, bound in front of him, were raw, the ropes tacky with blood. He walked steadily, his face calm and proud and resigned, but he paused as the light hit him, and Merlin caught the instant of naked horror in his friend's eyes.

"People of Camelot!" Morgana's voice rang out like the bells. "Arthur Pendragon has been brought here for judgement and just punishment." Mutterings broke out around Merlin and Gwen, low and mutinous. Merlin squeezed Gwen's hand tightly. The mood was more partisan than he had dared to hope, but it could so easily tip the wrong way. Arthur had not blinked.

"My lord Agravaine," Morgana continued formally. "Please read the charges."

It took some time. The charges began with attempting to hide Morgana's birthright, and usurping her throne, then catalogued several of Morgana's recent grievances, chief among them the 'murder' of Morguase. There was an endless litany of crimes against druids and sorcerers, all of which had been committed on Uther's orders, and only a few of which, as far as Merlin knew, Arthur had had any hand in at all. It ended with Arthur's apparently criminal choice of friends: 'false knights' Gwaine, Percival and Elyan, 'seductress' Guinevere, 'traitor' Gaius, 'poisoner' Merlin, and finally, the treacherous, dangerous sorcerer known as Emrys. Arthur had looked almost bored as the list unfolded, but the accusation of allying himself with a sorcerer clearly caught him entirely by surprise. He laughed, involuntarily – then, Merlin's sharp eye noticed, winced and touched his ribs.

Morgana glared at her brother. "How do you answer these charges?" she demanded. Agravaine twitched in agitation, but did not speak.

This was no trial, Merlin thought. This was one of those embarrassing family arguments that happen in front of guests. Every eye in the city was on Arthur. He seemed to ponder for several seconds, until an impatient guard nudged him in the arm: "Answer your queen!"

"My queen..." Arthur whispered, trying out the sound of it. The guard made another impatient noise and Arthur raised his bound hands in submission. "Morgana, I always thought of you as my sister, but I will swear on anything you choose that I didn't know of your parentage. And I didn't know of your... talents, because you didn't tell me; you didn't trust me. I don't know how I would have reacted, but you never gave me a chance not to disappoint you. I..."

He faltered, self-conscious. Morgana didn't look unmoved – she looked furious. She seemed unable to speak, but glanced at Agravaine, and his pompous, officious voice cut through the spell Arthur's honesty had cast on the crowd. "You have not answered the charges."

Arthur flinched in irritation. His tone became more wry and guarded. "There were so many. Give me a moment." The guards shifted ominously, realising that he was mocking their leaders, but he quickly continued. "You mentioned some actions I regret, but I am accountable only to my conscience for them, as none of these were illegal at the time. I have not usurped the throne, nor did I kill Morguase. Some of the crimes against druids in your charges are well known in the history of Camelot. In the castle library they are in the section devoted to the 'Great Purge', a period generally considered to have finished around the time of my fourth birthday." His voice was soft and sarcastic. "I deny all charges against my friends, and I am ignorant of the 'Emrys' you spoke of. Strictly speaking, I acted illegally when I promoted the men you named to the rank of knight, but I do not regret it – and, I think, it is hardly a flogging offense."

Agravaine seemed to become more and more agitated while his nephew spoke. Merlin watched the figures on the balcony intently. Beside him, Gwen's eyes were fixed on Arthur, fierce with pride.

~/~/~/~/~

Morgana had been consumed by the fury in her stomach when Arthur presumed to call her 'sister'. The pain of her exile, the constant fear she had endured as she discovered her magical talents in the shadow of Uther and Arthur's crusade... All that she had suffered was mocked by his soft words. This brother's very birth had kicked off the campaign against her people, creating a world in which magic was outlawed, despised and vilified, into which she had grown, taught to believe that magic users were monsters and increasingly terrified that she was one such monster. And now he had the gall to stand calmly before her and speak of trust and understanding.

Only the name Emrys pulled her out of her thoughts. Yes, Emrys, the vision which kept her from sleep, the dark shadow looming over her triumph. This, she remembered, was not about Arthur, after all.

"You lie, brother!" she called, her voice just a touch shriller than it had been. "But it matters not. Bind him."

~/~/~/~/~

A cacophony of protest broke out in the square as a startled Arthur was dragged toward the pole. He dug his heels in instinctively, wriggling and pushing against the hands that held him, but in vain – he was weak and outnumbered, and his hands were tied.

When they finally wrestled him close enough, the guards yanked on the rope around Arthur's wrists and secured it to a hook, lifting his hands above his head far enough that he was obliged to stand flush against the pole. He hugged the rough wood with his elbows and lifted his head to glance around in panic. A guard cut through the back of Arthur's ragged shirt with his dagger. The young king squirmed when his back was bared to the chilly air, and some of the closest witnesses gasped at the bruising on his side.

"I know that Emrys is here. Reveal yourself, and spare your precious king some suffering."

Merlin felt like a fist clenched around his stomach. His masquerade had truly come back to haunt him now – much as he had used it to haunt Morgana. The plan he had agreed with Tristan – which Tristan, by now, would have passed on to Leon and his refugee army – would be ruined if Merlin rose to this. Only a fool would act now, with crossbows on every rampart ready to defend Morgana. Their brief was to make sure Arthur wasn't killed, because if he was dead it would all be in vain, but Merlin was sure his friend could survive this. But – even from across the square, he could see Arthur trembling. He could, probably, make some excuse, give Gwen the slip, cast the aging spell and turn himself in to Morgana. But it wouldn't stop her killing Arthur, necessarily, and where would they be once he, too, was at her mercy?

He realised he was gripping Gwen's hand so hard his knuckles were white. She didn't seem to have noticed.

~/~/~/~/~

Agravaine plucked urgently at Morgana's sleeve, keeping an eye on the courtyard below, which was seething with anticipation.

"Morgana, this is madness. You must stop it, before it is too late," he hissed.

There were tears in her eyes, but her voice was resolute. "It was your counsel to act now, and to declare myself Uther's heir."

"My counsel was to read the charges and have his head off, before he could become too powerful a martyr. Not to let him whip up the people with his soft words and then enrage them by splashing his pretty red blood around."

"I have heard it!" she snapped, trying to turn away. He yanked on her sleeve.

"You will not be safe as queen while he lives!"

"Nor while Emrys lives," she insisted.

"What is this, Morgana? What shade is it that haunts you?" he snarled in exasperation.

She sneered back. "He will come for Arthur. I am sure of it." She yanked again on her sleeve, and, failing to dislodge his grip, lashed out with a burst of magic, propelling him away from her with such force that he collided hard with the wall.

She turned back to the courtyard.

"Begin."