The Plague Knight and Other Stories Page 18

  The boy leaped up and tried to run. The gray-bearded intruder grabbed him by his threadbare, hand-me-down surcoat and spun him back around. "Bide a while," said the man in a soft but commanding baritone voice. "How are you called, and just what did you think you were doing?"

  "My name is Arthur," the boy stammered. “I was just resting here."

  The tall man's obsidian eyes bored into his captive's watery blue ones. "Do yourself a kindness. Don't lie to me. It isn't easy to hide the truth from Merlin."

  Merlin the magician? The man folk swore was the son of a devil? Arthur's knees quivered. "All right! I tried to take the sword. But I swear, I would have brought it back."

  The enchanter's eyes narrowed. "'Brought it back?'"

  “Yes, milord. My foster brother came to London to fight in the tournament. But he went out roistering last night, and when he awoke this morning, sick from drink, he discovered that somewhere in the stews, he'd lost his sword. Since I'm his squire, and so responsible for his arms, he blamed me. He beat me, threw me into the street, and forbade me to return without his blade." The boy blinked back fresh tears. "He wouldn't even let me back in the inn long enough to get my hood and mantle.

  "I did try to find the sword, but I don't know the city, or what taverns and bawdy houses he visited, and even if I did, everything's closed. When I saw this blade, I thought that perhaps it could serve instead."

  "Are you simple?" Merlin asked. "Don't you know what glaive this is?"

  Arthur swallowed. "Yes, milord. How could I not? People talk of nothing else. Supposedly, only the rightful king can pull it out. But I was so desperate, so cold, and I thought, well, it wouldn't hurt to try." He hesitated. "I guess I wanted to anyway, ever since I saw it yesterday. Just to see if I could do it."

  Merlin cocked his head. "You mean, simply for the sport of it?"

  Finally sensing that the wizard meant him no harm, Arthur grimaced. "Yes, milord. I'm not so foolish as to think that I could rule. I know that whatever becomes of Excalibur, the crown must pass to some duke or earl, not a fosterling who doesn't even know his true parents' names."

  Now Merlin hesitated. At last he said, “But I can tell you that, for by my Art, I recognized you the moment I laid eyes on you. And I suppose that under the circumstances, you have the right to know. Your sire was King Uther, your mother, Queen Igraine."

  The skinny boy gaped at him. "That's mad. You're mocking me."

  Merlin said, "Not so. Surely you know that I was Uther's counselor?" Arthur nodded. "At his command, I helped your mother conceal her pregnancy, and attended at your birth. Afterwards, I abandoned you on the doorstep of one Sir Ector, an obscure knight who dwelled in Wales, remote from court. I've often wondered if you were still alive."

  Perhaps because Merlin knew Kay—and Ector's name--Arthur realized to his surprise that he now believed him. Something ached in the squire's breast. "But why? I have to know. Why would my father give me away?"

  The enchanter shrugged. "He never would tell me. You were conceived around the time he slew Igraine’s previous husband. Perhaps he feared you were really Tintagel’s get. Or regretted that he’d sired you out of wedlock. He may have wanted to insure that the kingdom would pass to a son begotten on the proper side of the sheets."

  "All my life, Kay and the others have looked down on the foundling," Arthur said bitterly. "Now you tell me I wasn't good enough for my true family, either. His mouth twisted.

  “I’m sorry if that pains you," Merlin said. "But you must lay the sorrow aside and ponder the choices that lie before you. Don't you understand? Whatever his intentions, Uther failed to father other children. Your claim to the crown is stronger than anyone else's."

  In fact, Arthur was so accustomed to thinking of himself as the humble ward of Sir Ector’s charity that until that moment, he hadn't grasped the implications of the wizard's tale. Now, a shock thrilled down his nerves. His head swam, and he wondered if he was dreaming. Could he really become king? Live in wealth instead of poverty? Have everyone bow and scrape to him, instead of the other way around? Command--

  From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the radiant length of Excalibur. The golden writing on the blue blade glittered. His sweet fantasy crumbled.

  "No," he said glumly. "You're forgetting, I couldn't take the sword. I must be Tintagel's son. Either that, or God too deems me unworthy."

  "Archbishop Brice is certain Christ sent us Excalibur," Merlin answered. "I'm not. I don’t know where it came from, though I have my suspicions. But I can tell you that power such as this sword embodies always carries a price. I believe that the blade is meant for you, Arthur. Else why would fortune return you to London now? But the sword will only yield itself if you resolve to bear the cost."

  Once again, the boy remembered the enchanter’s diabolical lineage. "Do you mean," he faltered, "that I have to pledge my soul?"

  Merlin snorted. "No. You've listened to too many bogle stories. But I think you have to accept that if you take Excalibur, the press of events will compel you to lean on it all your days."

  Arthur spread his hands. “I don't understand."

  Merlin turned and regarded the magical weapon. "It shines brightly, doesn't it? Brightly enough to dim the hand that grasps it." He pivoted back to face the boy. "How good a swordsman are you?"

  Arthur blinked in surprise at the change of subject. "Not very," he admitted. "Kay says I fence like a lame old woman."

  "Well, not with Excalibur, you won't. The glaive will lend you cunning, strength, and grace. Its edge will cleave mail like parchment. Wielding it, you'll be all but invincible. But you’ll never know how puissant a man-at-arms you might have eventually become without it."

  Arthur shrugged. "What difference does that make?"

  "I don't truly know, for I can't see the future. But occasionally I can glean meaning from the shadows tomorrow casts upon today. I believe that if you take the sword, peers and commoners both will unite behind you, simply because the prophecy has fired everyone's fancy. You'll reign long and for the most part nobly. Vanquish armies and giants. Inspire tales that will last as long as men endure to tell them. But sometimes, on nights when sleep eludes you, you'll gaze at Excalibur, resting in its accustomed place at your bedside, and wonder if the king's achievements truly belong to you. Perhaps any wretch who possessed the glaive would have done at least as well."

  "And is that the weighty price you warned of?" Arthur asked incredulously. "I'll pay it gladly. I already disdain myself, Lord Merlin. Years of swallowing slights and drudging alongside churls have taught me how." He clambered onto the marble pedestal.

  “A king’s self-doubt can undermine his ability to rule,” Merlin said grimly. "Make him bellicose when he ought to be soft, irresolute when he desperately needs to act. I fear war for war's sake. A slaughter of innocent babes to rival Herod's. Betrayal ignored till it tears the realm asunder."

  Arthur glared down at the wizard. "Are you certain these things will come to pass?"

  "No," Merlin admitted. "I told you, it's all just shadows, dancing and flowing in the dark."

  "Then why should I heed you?"

  Merlin's shoulders slumped. Abruptly, he looked weary and old. "I don't know. Perhaps you shouldn't, for, though I'm doing my best to advise you, as I always did your sire, truly, I don't know what you should do. Perhaps the Lord did send Excalibur. Perhaps it is your destiny to bear it. Perhaps the risk of a tainted, evanescent Camelot is better than the possibility that the Table Round will never live at all."

  The boy gripped Excalibur's hilt again. The muscles in his skinny arms swelled. Then he released the sword and turned back toward Merlin. “God rot you for telling me these things. What will become of me if I don't take the blade?"

  A gleam flowered in Merlin's ebon eyes. "No one can foretell that for certain, either. I hope that in time you’ll discover your native virtues and grow more comfortable in your skin. Beyond that, perhaps you'll live tranquilly in some quiet corner of the world.
Or, you might win your throne as other kings have, without recourse to miracles and portents. Given the ambitions of many of the barons, it would be a long, perilous task, but not, I think, impossible. Should you choose to attempt it, I'll attest to your parentage."

  Arthur gestured toward the cathedral. "Then let's begin now, with the Archbishop."

  Merlin turned reflexively, following the sweep of Arthur's arm. "Gladly, my liege, if he's here. But if I'm not mistaken, he went to the tourney with--"

  Arthur snatched Excalibur's hilt and pulled.

  Instantly, the blade hissed free of the anvil. Snarling, the boy swung the sword at the man below him.

  Merlin's head flew from his shoulders. His body thudded to the ground. The gushing blood stained a snowdrift red.

  Looking down at the carnage, Arthur felt vaguely ashamed. It was scarcely chivalrous to strike a foe from behind. But he’d been afraid to give the demifiend a chance to curse him.

  And besides, Merlin had deserved an ignominious death. For stealing Arthur from his parents. For trying to cozen him out of his one chance at glory. If allowed to live, who knew what treason he might have plotted next?

  Grinning, no longer mindful of the cold, the boy bounded nimbly off the stone, then strode off toward the inn. Soon, he knew, he must declare himself to the world, but first he meant to settle accounts with Kay.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for picking up The Plague Knight and other stories. I hope you enjoyed it.

  Thanks too to the various editors who purchased and in many cases commissioned these stories, and to Michael Moorcock and Mercedes Lackey for allowing other writers to play with their signature characters and settings.

  And thanks to my talented cover artist Jamie Stubkjaer. To see more of her art, click here.

  If you’d like to see a list of my other books, click here, and if you’d care to Follow me on Twitter, Friend me on Facebook, or add me to your Circles on Google+, please do.

  Keep your sword sharp, and I’ll see you next time.

  Table of Contents

  The Plague Knight

  Kingsfire

  Castle of Maidens

  The Salamander

  Death in Keenspur House

  The Cheat

  Light and Dark

  Acorns

  St. Paul’s Churchyard, New Year’s Day

  Author’s Note