Untitled (38 page)

   Strange noises began to reverberate through the halls of Corfe Castle. Low howls echoed, The moans of someone in torment could be heard. People stirred in their sleep; halfawake, they covered their heads with blankets and pillows. Some were alarmed at what they heard; others tried to ig­ nore it and go back to sleep. A particularly loud gasp of pain roused many of them completely; but when the air went silent again they quickly fell back to their dreams.

   A guard at the door of the Great Hall was the first to see the apparition. A vague glow, as tall as a man, seeming to drift about the hall, stopping here and there and then mov­ ing again. It floated; it hovered. The guard watched, awe­ struck. And eventually he managed to make out more detail. It was the glowing figure of a knight in armor, his helmet tucked under one arm. The man's face was almost lost in the eerie glow.

   Weakly the guard tried to challenge whoever or what­ ever it was he was seeing. "Stop! Identify yourself!" He felt foolish saying it—talking to a cloud of light. And as he expected, it did not answer but continued its slow progress around the Great Hall. When it finally moved through the door and out into the corridor, he was relieved. No one but he had seen it. Whatever it was, if he said it had not been there, no one could contradict him. When more people saw it—more than one at a time—it would become their problem.

   He watched as the smoke or light or phantom moved along the corridor toward the wing where the guests were housed and disappeared around a corner.

   There was a guard posted at the Byzantines' rooms; he was asleep, leaning against a wall. The cloud-knight moved past him without disturbing him. But the inhabitants of the rooms, or at least the light sleepers among them, stirred in their sleep and gasped at the sight.

   One of the lesser members of their party rushed to awaken Eudathius. "Sir! Sir! You must waken and see this."

   Eudathius opened his eyes and saw it at once; it had come to rest at the threshold of his room. He sat up in bed, immediately wide awake. "Podarthes? Podarthes, is that you?"

   The specter did not answer him but seemed to quiver in the night air. Then it moved on down the hall.

   Petronilla saw it next. She was sitting up, unable to sleep, doing needlework. The phantom light moved very slowly past her door. She froze then, shaking with anxiety, and she pricked her finger with the needle. Drops of blood stained the linen she had been working on. And then it was gone.

   It moved on, groaning as it went, pausing at one door­ way after another as if it were looking for someone or something. Next it came to Leonilla's suite. All of her ser­ vants were sound asleep, But the old queen was sitting up in her bed and drinking wine. When she saw the phantom she called to it. "Leodegrance? Is that you?"

   The specter stood still and went silent.

   "Leode—" Suddenly through the phantom mist she seemed to discern the ceremonial armor of someone other than her late husband. "Jean-Michel. It is you. I know it."

   The light shimmered.

   "Jean-Michel, I never meant for them to blame you. Please believe me."

   No response came, not even a slight movement.

   "Jean-Michel, you know I loved you, Of all my lovers, you were the one." She began to climb out of her bed and stumbled drunkenly.

   Abruptly the light moved on along the corridor. Bishop Gildas saw it and, terrified, made the sign of the cross. Petronus woke to find it looming over his bed; he shook with terror and, thinking it was an avenging angel, begged it not to harm him.

   On and on it moved, crying softly in the night. And then at last its glow began to fade, and it vanished. No one who had seen it could shake off the memory. Very few of them managed to sleep again.

   And in his room, Merlin sat and read an essay of Aris­ totle by the light of a single candle. Now and then, when the night's unexpected sounds came to him, he looked up from the manuscript, and he smiled.

   A few moments later he began to nod off. But the sound of someone approaching awoke him. Standing in his door­ way was Nimue, dressed in Jean-Michel's armor. She put the helmet down on a table and wiped her brow. "These things are hot. How do they do it? I mean, how do they manage all that exercise and all that warfare dressed like this?"

   Merlin sat up. "The phosphorus makes it hotter."

   "Even so. If I had to wear this nonsense all the time, I'd throw myself into the nearest moat."

   "How did it go? Did you notice any reactions?"

   "Nothing definite, but . . ."

   "Anything at all?"

   "No. Well . . . Leonilla said something odd." She told him about it. "But really, Merlin, do you think this will accomplish anything besides making me work up a sweat?"

   "Think. If you had committed one—or all—of the mur­ ders, and if you knew Jean-Michel had been arrested for your crimes, and if you believed his spirit had returned from the grave, what would you be thinking and feeling?"

   She wiped her forehead again. "That he was a nitwit to have worn this armor?"

   "I am asking seriously. Even if no one reacted overtly tonight, it is only a matter of time. We simply have to sit back and let Sagramore and the other rumor-mongers do their worst."

   "And if the killer or killers were not among the ones who 'saw' him?"

   "Time will tell, Nimue. Time will tell."

The next morning the ghost was all anyone could talk about. Arthur announced that because of the disruption and agitation it had caused, Lancelot's trial would not resume for one additional day. Speculation about the ghost's iden­ tity ran rampant, but after a few hours a consensus devel­ oped that it must have been Jean-Michel. Despite the furor his appearance had caused initially, the morning meal was fairly calm and people were subdued. Merlin wondered if it was from lack of sleep; he himself had slept little enough.

   People in the refectory talked in hushed tones, as if they had suddenly come to see Corfe Castle as a sacred place, or at least a very unusual one. Merlin was in a thoughtful mood; he sat beside Arthur, as usual, and kept a careful eye on everyone he suspected, hoping one of them might give something away.

   Petronus, who neither Arthur nor Merlin really sus­ pected might be at the bottom of the crimes, or at least one of them, appeared pale and shaken, but there was no way to tell if it was from guilt or simple fear. When they returned from France, Merlin had assigned him to watch Leonilla lest her mad ramblings lead to injury or worse. The boy was unhappy about it but obeyed. She had not come to the dining hall but sent a servant to fetch her breakfast. Petronus ate then went glumly to her rooms.

   His sister moped and made idle conversation with the people around her, but not much of it; she ate very little and left. Eudathius and his people, with Gildas among them, talked softly among themselves; their general air was more of bafflement than of fright or nervousness. Guenevere was her usual imperious self; it was impossible to tell if her silence was the product of her usual aloofness or of some­ thing darker. Arthur watched her carefully; he still wanted her to be the killer.

   Alone among the visitors, Germanicus seemed in a voluble mood; but he could find no one willing to converse with him. He moved from table to table, looking for amia­ ble company. His aimless wandering about the refectory only served to remind several people of the previous night's apparition.

   Merlin had instructed the kitchen staff to work at being especially convivial, hoping it might annoy someone to the point of indiscretion. "I want you to be jolly and carefree," he told them. "Nothing annoys a melancholy person more than seeing someone else in a buoyant mood."

   "How can we be buoyant when there is a ghost roaming the castle?" one of the maids asked.

   "Ghosts only stalk by night."

   "That isn't exactly reassuring."

   "I give you my word, the ghost will do no harm to any of you."

   "How can you know that?"

   "It is my job to know."

   They found this more cryptic than reassuring, and so they grumbled more; they insisted that acting happy was more than they could do. But Merlin promised them extra pay, and their mood brightened considerably.

   But despite close perusal, all the suspects' reactions proved inconclusive.

   Even Arthur, who knew the truth of what had happened the previous night, was subdued. He ate his breakfast with­ out much conversation. Then just as he was finishing, he whispered to Merlin, "Where is my sister?"

   "Morgan complained that the strain of last night's per­ formance gave her a headache."

   "And you don't find that suspicious?"

   "Morgan has a murderous nature, granted. But I simply

can't fathom what she might have gained by killing any of the victims. Now, if Gildas had been killed . . ."

   "You think too much."

   Merlin ran a finger around the edge of his plate. "I choose to take that as a compliment."

   "I wish I knew whether I meant it as one." Arthur stood to go, then had another thought. "And I suppose Leonilla is off on another of those lunatic walks of hers?"

   "Perhaps. I've sent Petronus to watch her; he will report on her doings. She has been teetering on the edge of mad­ ness for weeks. The sight of her dead lover may have pushed her past the brink."

   "You do realize, don't you, that if this charade produces no results, you may have driven the poor woman mad for no good reason?"

   "With all the killings, added to the loss of her kingdom, that would have happened anyway. She has been more than a little mad for years. We must hope it gets no worse. I do not think I can eat any more. Let me walk out with you."

   The two of them moved toward the entrance. Various people tried to talk to them as they passed. Sagramore blus­ tered and said they should all leave for Camelot as quickly as possible. "We can conclude the trial there. It will be safer."

   Merlin smiled a sarcastic smile. "Is it possible to be safe from the supernatural?"

   Sagramore grunted and went back to his breakfast.

   As the two of them moved past Guenevere's table, she glared at them icily but said nothing. Arthur whispered to Merlin that it was a relief. "There is no one I want to talk to less than my sweet wife."

   As Arthur drew near him Eudathius stood and said he wanted to lodge a formal diplomatic protest.

   "About what, precisely?" Arthur asked.

   "About . . . about . . . about all of this. About the delay in the trial. About this spirit we've all seen."

   "Are you under the impression we have some influence over the dead?" Arthur was abrupt. "Half the castles in Europe are haunted. Why should Corfe be an exception? Would you perhaps like to have Bishop Gildas conduct an exorcism?"

   "No, sir, but—"

   "Excellent. That settles it, then."

   They moved quickly out of the hall. Merlin smiled ap­ provingly. "You're getting better at this. In fact, you are handling it as well as I could myself."

   "I wish you were the one who had to. And, for heaven's sake, don't remind me that I wanted to be king."

   "I would not dream of it, Your Majesty." He leaned on the last two words with heavy irony. "But I find myself feeling fatigued. I need to get some rest now. Last night did not give me much chance to sleep."

   Arthur grinned. "Perhaps if you drank some phospho­ rus . . ."

   "That is not funny, Arthur. Sarcasm is not a style that comes naturally to you."

   "Maybe not, but I'm being schooled by a master. How can you sleep with all this hubbub going on?"

   "Relax, Arthur. The wheels are turning. We can count on human nature."

Merlin returned to his study, found his manuscript of Plot­ inus and read till he dozed off. When he finally woke the sun had wheeled round to the western sky; brilliant light poured in through the window.

   Just as he was shaking off his sleep, he heard someone running down the hall. "Merlin! Merlin!" It was a boy's voice, a familiar one, though he was a bit too drowsy to recognize it. "Merlin! Come quickly! The queen!"

   When the boy reached his room he realized it was Petronus. "Merlin, please, you must come at once. Queen Leonilla—"

"What about her? She has not been attacked has she?"

   "You are the one expert doctor here. Come with me, please."

   He was on the verge of hysteria. Merlin reached for his cane, got to his feet and followed him out into the hall.

   Petronus rushed on ahead, pausing every few yards to look back and make certain Merlin was following him. Through the castle they hurried, past the refectory, past the Great Hall, to the visitors' wing. "Please, Merlin, you must believe that I had nothing to do with this."

   "This? What exactly is the matter?"

   "We're almost there. You will see."

   And then they reached Leonilla's chamber. She sat there alone, in a wooden chair with a stiff, high back. She faced neither the door nor the window but stared at a blank stone wall. Black robes enfolded her, as if she were caught in a maelstrom of thick ink. A small table sat between her and the doorway where Merlin stood, and she rested her right arm on it. Her face in profile looked stark and angular; she resembled an aged bird of prey. Merlin found it appropriate. She did not look at him as he entered or acknowledge his presence in any way.

   "What is the problem here, Leonilla?"

   In a low voice she croaked, "There is none." She turned her head slightly and told Petronus to leave them.

   Merlin was testy. "Then why on earth did you send for me? Petronus said you need a doctor."

   "I do not. Believe me, medical assistance is the last thing I want."

   "Then—?"