waited for him to reach them. He had, to appearances, been running all over Camelot; there was sweat on his forehead, and his clothes were soaked with it. Arthur caught him by the shoulder and made him stand still. "What the devil is wrong with you? For once, Pellenore, try and act like a normal man."
"Normal?" The old man staggered a bit and Arthur steadied him. "How can anyone behave normally? Don't you know what's happened?"
"I know only too well. I--"
"The beasts, Arthur, the beasts. They've begun to kill. If we don't vanquish them, we'll all be dead before long."
Merlin planted himself in front of the mad old man. "We'll all be dead eventually anyway, Pellenore. Let the beasts do what they will."
"No! I have to stop them. No one else can. And no one will believe me." With that he drew his sword and sped off down the corridor.
For a moment everyone stood looking at one another, unsure what to say or how to react. Finally Nimue spoke up. "Poor old man."
"Poor old man, nothing," Mark said. "I often think he's only pretending to be mad, and now I'm sure of it. How else could he know about the death tonight?"
"Everyone knows." Merlin sounded tired; he wanted all this to end.
Arthur got between them. "Come. We're on our way outside, remember?"
At the main entrance two other guards stood on duty. Mark had a quick word with them and left two more of the cohort with them for extra security.
The courtyard, unlike the castle, was quite empty. The night was cold, unseasonably so, and no one had thought to bring winter clothing. There were heavy clouds; the moon was a bright pale patch through them. Merlin felt a drop of rain and looked up; the sky was ominous. "Winter weather," he muttered. "Too soon."
One of the guards from the front gate said to Mark, "She hasn't left yet, sir, if that's who you're looking for."
"She?"
"The queen. Her party is assembling at the back of the castle, by the stables."
"The queen?!" Merlin shouted. "We mustn't let her leave."
Sparked into action, Mark took two men and went to look. He came back quickly and walked straight to the king. "She's leaving, Arthur. She, Lancelot, all their servants. The horses are being loaded now."
Loudly, Merlin said again, "She mustn't. Arthur, you can't allow her to go. Not till I've had time to question her and her people about the killing."
"Guenevere is a vindictive, loveless woman, Merlin. But I wouldn't like to think she's behind this."
"Don't be naive, Arthur. She--" He was going to remind the king how much his wife hated him, but he caught himself. "If not she herself, then Lancelot or one of her servants. Any of them could have a hand in this."
Sounding even more sad than before, Arthur told him, "You're right, I suppose. Let's go and talk to her."
Mark spoke up. "I'll have the guards close all the gates. They won't get out."
At the rear of Camelot, Guenevere was overseeing preparations for the journey home. Her carriage, small but ornate, was harnessed to four black horses. Packhorses were being loaded. Two dozen servants worked busily. One carried an unfurled banner bearing the queen's arms.
She herself stood on the carriage's step, watching, giving orders, making certain everything was done to her satisfaction. Her ape perched on her shoulder and cried, apparently unhappy to be in the cold. There were torches; the rest of the courtyard was in darkness made deeper by the clouds.
"James," she said loudly to one of the servants, "get me another cloak."
Lancelot, ever the chivalrous gallant, took his own off and wrapped it around her shoulders. The ape jumped onto his back.
"Guenevere!" Arthur tried to resume a tone of command, not quite convincingly. "I must ask you to remain here for the time being."
"Why, Arthur! How nice of you to come see me off." She was the picture of sweet composure.
A sprinkle of large, heavy drops of rain came and went quickly. Merlin looked to the sky again. There would be a storm. Guenevere looked skyward as
"Normal?" The old man staggered a bit and Arthur steadied him. "How can anyone behave normally? Don't you know what's happened?"
"I know only too well. I--"
"The beasts, Arthur, the beasts. They've begun to kill. If we don't vanquish them, we'll all be dead before long."
Merlin planted himself in front of the mad old man. "We'll all be dead eventually anyway, Pellenore. Let the beasts do what they will."
"No! I have to stop them. No one else can. And no one will believe me." With that he drew his sword and sped off down the corridor.
For a moment everyone stood looking at one another, unsure what to say or how to react. Finally Nimue spoke up. "Poor old man."
"Poor old man, nothing," Mark said. "I often think he's only pretending to be mad, and now I'm sure of it. How else could he know about the death tonight?"
"Everyone knows." Merlin sounded tired; he wanted all this to end.
Arthur got between them. "Come. We're on our way outside, remember?"
At the main entrance two other guards stood on duty. Mark had a quick word with them and left two more of the cohort with them for extra security.
The courtyard, unlike the castle, was quite empty. The night was cold, unseasonably so, and no one had thought to bring winter clothing. There were heavy clouds; the moon was a bright pale patch through them. Merlin felt a drop of rain and looked up; the sky was ominous. "Winter weather," he muttered. "Too soon."
One of the guards from the front gate said to Mark, "She hasn't left yet, sir, if that's who you're looking for."
"She?"
"The queen. Her party is assembling at the back of the castle, by the stables."
"The queen?!" Merlin shouted. "We mustn't let her leave."
Sparked into action, Mark took two men and went to look. He came back quickly and walked straight to the king. "She's leaving, Arthur. She, Lancelot, all their servants. The horses are being loaded now."
Loudly, Merlin said again, "She mustn't. Arthur, you can't allow her to go. Not till I've had time to question her and her people about the killing."
"Guenevere is a vindictive, loveless woman, Merlin. But I wouldn't like to think she's behind this."
"Don't be naive, Arthur. She--" He was going to remind the king how much his wife hated him, but he caught himself. "If not she herself, then Lancelot or one of her servants. Any of them could have a hand in this."
Sounding even more sad than before, Arthur told him, "You're right, I suppose. Let's go and talk to her."
Mark spoke up. "I'll have the guards close all the gates. They won't get out."
At the rear of Camelot, Guenevere was overseeing preparations for the journey home. Her carriage, small but ornate, was harnessed to four black horses. Packhorses were being loaded. Two dozen servants worked busily. One carried an unfurled banner bearing the queen's arms.
She herself stood on the carriage's step, watching, giving orders, making certain everything was done to her satisfaction. Her ape perched on her shoulder and cried, apparently unhappy to be in the cold. There were torches; the rest of the courtyard was in darkness made deeper by the clouds.
"James," she said loudly to one of the servants, "get me another cloak."
Lancelot, ever the chivalrous gallant, took his own off and wrapped it around her shoulders. The ape jumped onto his back.
"Guenevere!" Arthur tried to resume a tone of command, not quite convincingly. "I must ask you to remain here for the time being."
"Why, Arthur! How nice of you to come see me off." She was the picture of sweet composure.
A sprinkle of large, heavy drops of rain came and went quickly. Merlin looked to the sky again. There would be a storm. Guenevere looked skyward as
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