Untitled (15 page)

   "We. We will interview her."

   "Listen to me, Arthur. This will require clear thinking. Our object is to find the killer, assuming it is not Lancelot. Your determination to blame everything on Guenevere will not be helpful."

   "I'm the king, damn it. Everything I do is helpful by definition."

   Exasperated, Merlin left him and headed for bed and for a long night of restless sleep. The absence of the door on his room meant that sounds from the corridor—servants cleaning, guards patrolling—kept disturbing him. He mut­ tered to his pillow, "Damned Roman architects."

   So, not long after dawn, the two of them went to her, heavily guarded at Merlin's insistence and to Arthur's an­ noyance.

   "You can't think I'm going to take this many men with me everywhere I go."

   "You can and you will. The king is the state. It is his first duty to protect himself and by so doing to protect the stabil­ ity of government."

   "You told me that when I was fourteen. In exactly those words, as I recall."

   "Clearly I didn't teach you well enough."

   Arthur grumped and kept walking. But Merlin was de­ termined to shake him out of his mood. "Leonilla seems to be quite fond of sitting on thrones. The throne room is where I met her when she first arrived."

   "She has always admired the trappings of power. The way snakes love holes."

   "Try to be a bit more sympathetic, will you? Her hus­ band of half a century has been horribly murdered."

   "Have you considered the possibility that she might have done it?"

   "Last night you said it was Guenevere."

   "Guenevere, Leonilla, this one, that one." Arthur stopped walking and looked at Merlin. "Why have all the women in my life been monsters? My wife, my sister, my mother-in­ law . . . Are they the Furies, punishing me for my ambi­ tion?"

   "Surely the number of mistresses you have taken must make up for that. Here we are, Arthur. Try to remember, we are here for condolence, not confrontation."

   "Perhaps you should remind
her
of that."

   "Come on. She's waiting."

   As on the day of her arrival, Leonilla had ordered the throne room kept dark but for a few widely spaced torches. She sat in a pool of light surrounded by deepest gloom. Merlin wondered whether her preference for darkness was out of vanity or deteriorating eyesight. He and Arthur stepped into the room, then stopped to let their own eyes adjust to the dim light.

   Leonilla sat on the throne, perfectly upright, perfectly motionless. Except for the flickering of the flames, not a thing in the room moved. A servant, that same strikingly handsome young man who had attended her that first day, stood to attention just behind her on her right. Her maid, Marthe, stood on the left. Both of them wore black cloth­ ing; the boy's armor sat in a neat pile not far away, gleam­ ing in the torchlight.

   Merlin whispered to Arthur, "You have never been to Alexandria. But there you may see the body of Alexander, embalmed in honey, propped upright in a glass coffin. Leonilla makes much the same effect."

   "I thought you wanted me to be positive," he whispered to Merlin. "Leonilla!" Arthur called. His voice reverberated off the eight stone walls.

   The old queen sat motionless, not replying, not even turning her head in their direction. But her young servant did look at them. He held a finger to his lips and said softly, "Her Majesty is in mourning."

   Arthur took a few steps toward the throne. "So are we all. The loss of Leodegrance has touched us deeply." Merlin noted with satisfaction that the king actually sounded as if he meant it.

   Arthur continued his advance; Merlin lagged behind, watching the scene. Slowly the old queen inclined her head in Arthur's direction. In a low, hoarse voice she asked, "Have you come to imprison me? To place me somewhere out of sight like the old, useless thing I am?"

   "Leonilla, I have come to offer my sympathy. That Leodegrance was murdered in my realm, in one of my cas­ tles, is a source of deep shame."

   "A king who is capable of shame." Her eyelids fluttered. "Even at my age I find novelties in the world. Whoever would have thought?"

   Slowly Leonilla raised her right hand and extended it toward Arthur. It struck Merlin as an odd gesture; then he realized she expected Arthur to kiss it. But Arthur was ei­ ther oblivious to her intention or quick to realize it. He took her hand in his and shook it; then he held it for a long mo­ ment, as if offering condolence. "Leonilla," he intoned, "if there is anything I can do to make your grief more bearable, you need only to ask."

   She ignored him and turned to her young man. "JeanMichel, I want wine."

   The youth sprang to action. From behind the throne he produced a wineskin and a goblet. He filled the cup, osten­ tatiously tasted its contents, then handed it to the queen. She took a long, deep drink then fixed her eyes on Arthur once again. "What solace can you give me that the wine cannot?"

   Merlin had listened long enough. Leaning on his cane, he advanced and joined them. "Among other things, Leonilla, we were wondering about plans for your hus­ band's funeral. What preparations should we make?"

   "You may do as you like. Ask my daughter. Embalm him and ship him back to France. Burn him. Dump his body in the Channel, for all I care."

   "Leonilla!" Arthur was genuinely shocked.

   "Leodegrance is dead, son-in-law. All the pomp and ceremony you can arrange will not change that. Soon enough, I'll be gone, too. Why should I care what you do with him? He was never much of a husband anyway, if you take my meaning."

   Merlin looked at her servant Jean-Michel and under­ stood what she meant. Guenevere was not the first queen of her line to take a young, handsome "servant."

   Arthur cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should consult Bishop Gildas. I'm afraid a funeral for a Christian king, or even the preparations for one, are not really—"

   "What are you going to do with Lancelot?"

   Her abruptness startled him. "Try him. Punish him."

   "And execute him? I have always found public execu­ tions very exciting." She reached out and took JeanMichel's hand.

   "We do not," Merlin said with emphasis, "execute any­ one in England for the pleasure of onlookers."

   "Pity. At least Lancelot's death would have more use than his life. Why, of all the knights in France, my daughter chose him . . . They were lovers even before she came here to marry you, you know. But Guenevere has always been a contrarian. She sneers at conventional wisdom as being too conventional and not very wise."

   "Yet we know that you encouraged her bigamous mar­ riage to him." Merlin made himself sound official. "It was Leodegrance who opposed it."

   For the first time an expression crept into her face; she smiled. "Why, Merlin, is it possible you have hit upon a motive for Lancelot's crime?"

   "It would serve as an equally clear motive for Guenevere. Or you, for that matter."

   "Don't be absurd. Leodegrance has been dying a slow death for years. His exit was only a matter of time. As is mine. Why would I waste my energy plotting his death? Besides, aren't you forgetting that Lancelot was found over my husband's corpse?"

   "No, Leonilla, we are not forgetting that."

   "Excellent. You have dungeoned him up?"

   "Yes."

   "Securely, where he can talk to no one?"

   Merlin was fidgeting restlessly. "Your interest in our pe­ nal system is touching, Leonilla. The trial should begin in several weeks. Will you remain here and attend?"

   "Perhaps. You may deal with the cur as you like. He was

going to make Guenevere the sole monarch here. Did you know that?"

   "We had our suspicions, yes."

   "He was going to make all of southeast England a gift to France. It would have increased our treasure vastly. And Leodegrance opposed that. The men in my life have all been fools. All of them, always. Can you grasp what that means?" She sighed. "If only it were possible to know in advance what they will be like." She glanced pointedly at Jean-Michel.

   "In fact," Arthur said, "I expressed a similar thought only last night." His tone was impatient; the old queen was beginning to bore him, or to grate on him—or both.

   Merlin sensed it and moved to end the interview. "You must excuse us, Leonilla, but we must be off about our business. English courts are rather more rigorous than the ones in France. We shall have to gather irrefutable evi­ dence, and we must do so while the crime is still fresh."

   Leonilla chuckled. The sound was like parchment being wrinkled. "Fresh. Is that a word apt for describing death?"

   "For death, I am afraid, almost any adjective will do. Fresh, stale, horrible, tender, shocking, amusing . . ."

   "I do not wish to know which one you would choose for my husband's demise. Or for my own, for that matter. I have no doubt you anticipate it keenly." She turned to Jean-Michel, took his hand again and pulled him down so his face was close to her own. Then suddenly, forcefully she kissed him, and he kissed back. When they were done she looked Arthur directly in the face for the first time. "There. That should suggest plenty of adjectives for the two of you. You may vilify me with any of them you choose."

   "Thank you for the exhibition, mother-in-law." Arthur turned to go. "Will we see you at lunch today?"

   Instead of answering she chuckled again, more loudly than before.

   Merlin made a slight bow and the two men walked side by side out of the queen's less-than-august presence.

   "So much," he said to Arthur, "for grief."

   "I hope, when I am gone, I will be mourned with more conviction."

   "Are you suggesting that courtiers might be insincere?"

   "Shut up. Let's get some breakfast."

After they had a light meal Arthur had two guards bring Petronilla to his study. She looked terrible, as if she hadn't slept for weeks—eyes puffed-out, skin waxy and pale. Her clothing was disheveled; the bodice of her gown was not laced up properly.

   Merlin smiled as cordial a smile as he could manage and gestured to her to sit at the table with them. "Good morn­ ing, Petronilla. I hope you are feeling well."

   She bowed to Arthur, then Merlin, and took her seat without responding.

   "Would you like something to drink? There is some warmed wine."

   "No, thank you, sir."

   "Well, if you change your mind, you need only ask. We know the last twenty-four hours have been difficult for you."

   "Difficult would be the word, sir, yes." Her French ac­ cent sounded particularly strong to Merlin's ear.

   Arthur spoke up. "We appreciate your cooperation in our investigation, Petronilla, as we have appreciated your help previously."

   "It has been my—no, sir, I could not say this has been a pleasure, not at all. When I started mixing in intrigue, I never thought that . . ."

   "You have given us invaluable intelligence. We will not forget that."

   She lowered her eyes. "Thank you."

   "You understand, Petronilla," Merlin said gently, "you are the only witness to a horrible crime. As such, your ac­ count of what happened will be indispensable."

   "Yes, sir."

   "And we will need you to testify at the trial."

   "Of course, sir. When—do you know when it will be?"

   "As soon as possible. To delay justice is tantamount to denying it. We need to assemble as many facts as we can. The king's verdict is final, so we must be as certain as pos­ sible."

   "Yes, sir, I understand."

   "Excellent. Can you describe what happened, please?"

   She looked from one of them to the other, then glanced away. "I was in Guenevere's study, putting some papers in order. I realized it was later than I'd thought, so I left to get some breakfast before the kitchen staff stopped serving. Just as I was leaving the study I met Lancelot. It startled me; I knew he was under house arrest, but there he was, walking about quite alone. I knew him—knew his moods— so I was careful to make neutral conversation, nothing that might annoy him.

   "He said he was looking for Guenevere, that he needed her help to escape the castle. He wanted money, to bribe the guards at the gate. What little he had went to buy the coop­ eration of the guards on his room.

   "We were still talking when King Leodegrance appeared in the corridor. He knew both of us, of course, and he wished us both a pleasant day. It did not seem to strike him as odd that Lancelot was unguarded. He was looking for Guenevere, and I told him she had already gone down to breakfast."

   Merlin was taking notes. "He seemed sound and healthy?"

   "Yes. I had never seen him looking so well."

   "I see. What happened then?"

   "Suddenly Lancelot raised his voice to the king. 'You

opposed my marriage to Guenevere,' he said. And he de­ manded to know why."

   "Leodegrance explained calmly that such a marriage, though it might be desirable politically, would be biga­ mous. He said something about the Church. And he added that there were better, more subtle ways to accomplish France's aims in England. But before he could say more, Lancelot flew into a rage and caught him by the shoulders and began to shake him. Leodegrance was not the strongest of men, far from it, and I was afraid he might be hurt. I tried to get between them, to calm things down, but Lance­ lot pushed me away.