The knight's cloaks and armor had been shed outside the border so as not to frighten the citzenry, so tongues were looser than they would have been otherwise. Their cover story was that they were soldiers of a minor lord sent to find the famed physician of the village to cure the lord's relative of a horrible sounding disease that Merlin had supplied the name of.
They had asked around the village about the various feats of their physician, and so far no one had mentioned anything that was untoward. The peasant that had been asked specifically about necromancy had merely rolled his eyes.
The hut they had been directed to stood a little ways from the village, set back into the trees. A well tended herb garden ringed the house, with small stone paths wrapping through it around the house and to the door.
Everyone dismounted their horses.
Arthur stepped up to the door and knocked. Merlin and Mordred tossed their reins to Gwaine, both quickly following Arthur, forcing the others to stay with the horses so as not to inundate the tiny hut with people.
The door opened tentatively, and a short old man with a grey beard stepped out, looking at their large party in askance.
"My lords."
"Are you the healer of this village?"
"Yes."
"May we come inside?"
"Of course. But I am afraid my home is too small for all of you."
"Watch the horses." Arthur shot over his shoulder, and the four stepped into the hut.
The light inside was dim, emanating from a single window, revealing herbs hanging from the ceiling and piles of books, a small bed and a worktable on opposite sides of the room. Arthur peered about, checking book titles and looking for signs of magic. Merlin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
Arthur turned to the small man. "We come here on urgent business. The lord we fight for has an ailing niece, and none of his physicians can help. By the time we return it is probable death will have already come to call. You are our lord's last hope. It is said you have certain skills...We need you to bring the girl back to life, to carry joy back to our lord's keep. Will you help us?"
"Even if I had such a skill I would not employ it." The old man spoke forcefully. "Necromancy is a detestable art, only one truly evil would use their power for such a deed."
"You would be rewarded."
"I know who you are, Pendragon. Why do you seek to entrap me?" The old man sighed and his shoulders fell, and he seemed to fold into himself as his eyes dimmed.
Arthur's eyes widened. "How...?"
"It is not hard to deduce. You are as easy to fathom out as an empty cup of ale."
Arthur huffed irritably, offended.
The healer slowly turned to Merlin and Mordred, gazing at them appraisingly, a frown on his face. "A far more interesting puzzle, however, are your two companions." He murmured.
"Merlin, is he about to..." Mordred began, telepathically.
"Merlin? And Mordred? Why?" Arthur stared at him suspiciously.
The old man's gaze snapped back to Arthur. "Some are completely ignorant of the world around them, king. These two are not. It puzzles me that they are in your company...But! Back to the matter at hand." The dark eyes glared defiantly into the king's. "The rumours are correct, I am a sorcerer. I have never killed anyone before in my life. I use my gifts to heal mothers bearing bairn, the crippled and the ill, and to quiet the pains of the old and weary. What shall it be, Uther, the pyre or the axe?" The stare never wavered. "I am old and tired, and tired of hiding, for it has grown very, very, old. Have you ever watched a child suffer in the throes of an illness you know you could prevent, and then see it die? I am sure your physician Gaius has. I hate it. And I will do it no more." The man's voice was louder now, his body was rigid with anger. "So kill me now, Uther, for no longer will I stand by and do nothing and watch innocent people die needlessly around me because of your hatred and ignorance!"
Arthur stared at the little man in shock.
Merlin held his breath.
But then Arthur's voice broke the silence quietly, in counterpoint to the healer's anger. "Should I hear of evil deeds done at the foot of the white mountains I will know where to come. Do not let your power delude you into thinking you are above the laws of men. I am not my father; But I will not hesitate if you turn to darker arts..."
Warning hanging in the air, Arthur wheeled and exited the hut, Merlin and Mordred following.
As they came out into the sunshine Leon caught the expression on Arthur's face. "Sire. Is something wrong...? Is he a sorcerer?"
"No, Leon, nothing is wrong. He was just an old man gifted in the healing arts wanting to fix the hurt and heal the sick. We ride back to Camelot."
The three mounted their horses and the group turned and headed away. Behind them, the healer stood at the edge of his garden. Shock wrinkled his features.
Abruptly, he raised his hand. "Go in peace, Arthur Pendragon!"
Arthur turned his head, then faced forward. "And the same to you."
Merlin smiled to himself. Behind half closed lids, his eyes burned gold for a moment. He chuckled to himself as he heard a short happy squawk from the old healer as the juvenile medicinal plants at the man's feet grew to maturity. But by then they had ridden out of sight, and he did not turn to look.