The Knights Have a Thousand Eyes Part 5
The Knights Have a Thousand Eyes
Part 5
With no signs of the band of robbers, Arthur gave the company the signal to return to Camelot. They all relaxed their guard a little, but remained alert. Arthur was disappointed, conscious that he’d have to face his father and report failure, but he kept a good-humoured façade for the sake of his men. The others were in good spirits, enjoying the ride, allowing their horses to stretch into a gallop when the path widened enough to allow it. They needed to relax more, Arthur thought.
Caradoc gave a discreet nod to Bedevere and Romford and the three knights slowed their horses, dropping behind the main party so they could speak without fear of being overheard.
‘I’m sure he’s very nice, but tell me why we’re all making googly eyes at Arthur’s servant,’ Caradoc demanded grumpily. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m finally making headway with Lady Jemima….’
This was met with snorts of derision.
‘No, really. She acknowledged me!’
‘You were standing in her path, you numbskull. She either acknowledged you or walked right over you,’ Bedevere replied scornfully.
‘She already walks right over him,’ Romford remarked as he scanned the surrounding trees.
‘Well, that’s true. Good point.’
‘Haha,’ Caradoc responded irritably. ‘And you two haven’t answered my question. If I’m jeopardising my chance with the charming Jemima, at least tell me it’s for a good reason.’
‘It’s for a good reason,’ Bedevere told him obligingly.
Caradoc rolled his eyes. ‘A few more details if you please.’
Romford glanced at Bedevere and answered, ‘Arthur’s is becoming isolated. He needs someone.’
Bedevere sighed in relief.
‘I thought you were serious when you were bickering over Merlin.’
‘Hardly matters if I was or not. The boy has eyes only for the prince.’
‘You have no interest in Merlin at all, do you? I swear you do it just to wind up Gawain, which isn’t very noble of you.’
‘I’m responsible for the welfare of the youngsters and a vigorous argument is good for the spleen.’
‘And Gawain now has an exceptionally healthy spleen? I apologise for doubting your honourable intentions,’ Bedevere replied with a certain irony.
‘Apology accepted, Sir Knight,’ Romford responded with a small bow and twinkling eyes.
His forbidding exterior belied Romford’s underlying sense of fun. It had taken Bedevere a good year to lose his fear of the elder knight and realise that half the things he said were accompanied by that humorous twinkle.
‘So… Merlin and Arthur,’ Caradoc said slowly, bringing the conversation back on topic. He was surprised that Bedevere, of all people, was advocating this. Everyone knew his opinion of common men.
But it was Bedevere who nodded and said, ‘That’s the idea.’
‘But why him? Why not Gawain? Or you? And don’t pretend you don’t love the Prince more than life.’
Romford spared Bedevere the necessity or responding by saying, ‘He’s growing up. He needs someone more permanent. An unwed Prince is too important a bargaining chip for Uther to consent to marriage. And these young knights all have their own responsibilities and duties.’
‘Father is making noises about marriage and securing alliances,’ Bedevere confirmed. ‘Everything here is ending. The best thing we can do for Arthur is return to our homes and win the loyalty of our own people. If he’s going to survive as king he’ll need strong lords with armies at their backs, not spoilt knights lounging around the court, getting fat and complacent whilst they cling on to Pendragon coattails.’
Romford nodded.
‘And to become strong they need to be able fill their father’s shoes, learn how to rule their own lands, win the hearts and minds of their people, tell the tales about Camelot and its prince.’
‘As for Arthur, he’s already lonely. And he’ll grow more cut-off as we abandon him,’ Bedevere said softly. ‘He’ll trust others with his back but not with his heart. Do we really want another Uther?’ He gave a quick glance to Romford. ‘No disrespect intended but his heart froze to ice twenty years ago, and look what came of that.’
‘I know my king’s weaknesses,’ Romford informed him stiffly.
‘But Merlin? A servant?’
‘I know. It shouldn’t work. But Merlin doesn’t know that. He behaves as if they’re equals. And Arthur, well Arthur does too,’ Bedevere replied. ‘It’s already his responsibility to look after the Prince. His only family is his mother, and he has no other duties to force him away. Arthur is clearly fond of him. We all know he defied the King and risked his life to bring back a cure when Merlin sickened. This could work. They could be together until the death and no one would ever comment on it.’
Caradoc thought about this and could see the logic.
‘So the plan is…?’
‘We woo Merlin and make Arthur jealous.’
‘That’s the best you could come up with? Really?’ Caradoc shook his head. ‘Are we twelve year old girls now?’
‘You wish. Some of us aspire to be twelve-year old girls,’ Bedevere replied with a toss of his head and a pout, causing Caradoc to chuckle at the uncanny impression of Willard
‘Sometimes simple is best. So are we agreed? Operation Falcon is a go?’ Romford asked.
‘Operation Falcon?’
‘Operation Merlin would make Arthur or Merlin curious if either overheard. And falcon is still a bird of prey.’
‘Why not an eagle?’
‘Because falcon was my idea, I’m the oldest and I outrank you. And before you make fun of my age, I should just remind you that I’ll be requiring a volunteer next time I’m demonstrating a lethal move.’
‘Actually, that’s a point. If Arthur really does like Merlin then he’s going to hate us. We’re going to suffer for this,’ Caradoc pointed out.
Bedevere looked stricken.
‘He’s going to beat seven bells out of us,’ he said, not very happy at this painful flaw in their plan.
‘What doesn’t break you makes you stronger,’ Romford parroted cheerfully.
‘Yes, well. It’s not going to be you limping from the practice field, is it?’ Caradoc complained.
‘Where’s your backbone, boy?’
‘In my back. And I’d prefer to keep it there, not have it ripped out through my mouth.’
‘Just think, Arthur will thank you for this one day.’
‘If we’re still alive to see that day,’ he replied morbidly.
‘Should we let the others know about Operation Falcon?’ Bedevere asked.
Romford clapped him on the back and laughed.
‘Where’s the fun in that?’
‘But… supposing one of them succeeds?’
‘You think young Kay or Willard can hold a candle to Arthur?’
‘No…. But Gawain?’
‘Ah, you forget. Arthur has already caught his affection, and if Merlin really is that fickle then he’s not the one either.’
And so it was decided. They trotted back to Camelot discussing tactics as though this were war, not love.
…
‘Merlin!’ A voice called.
With thoughts still lingering on Morgana’s revelations, Merlin was drawn abruptly from his reverie by the ringing greeting, and looked up to see Sir Kay bounding towards him like an overgrown puppy.
‘I was looking for you. I’ve noticed that you help out that old physician.’
‘Uh, yes. Gaius,’ Merlin confirmed. ‘Oh, are you sick? Because I could go fetch him?’
He was about to scurry off in search of Gaius.
‘No, no,’ Kay said quickly. ‘That’s not it. I just had a thought. I have with me a couple of books from my own father’s library, on medicinal herbs and such. I thought they might be of interest to you? They are rather unique. You could astound Gaius with your extensive knowledge,’ he said with a grin.
‘That’s very good of you, thank you.’
Studying books wasn’t exactly Merlin’s favourite way of passing time, but it was still thoughtful of young Kay.
‘I’d appreciate the company, actually, so do say you’ll take a look.’
He laid a friendly hand on Merlin’s arm.
And Merlin had to admit it was very nice of him, so he smiled and said, ‘I’d love to.’
Kay glowed pink with pleasure and cheerfully walked Merlin to his room, with Merlin insensible to Kay smirking in triumph at any knights they passed, and their looks of consternation as the door to Kay’s room firmly shut on the two of them.
‘Oh. He’s thrown down the gauntlet now!’ Montague exclaimed.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Percival placated him. ‘This is Sir Kay we’re talking about. He’s only just outgrown his short trousers. He’s probably literally showing Merlin his etchings.’
Merlin could only wish it were that interesting. They were both on Kay’s bed propped upright on the bolster. Merlin was currently feigning interest in wormwort, which gives aid for biliary disorders, according to Kay. But if used to excess would turn a person into a fool.
‘Hah. That explains Arthur then,’ Merlin said, happy to get some small entertainment out of the afternoon.
But even that was soured because Kay initially looked shocked at the insult to his Prince, then began a nervous titter, which merely irritated Merlin. It was worse because he felt like a traitor for belittling Arthur to one of his knights when he wasn’t here to offer a comeback or a putdown. And really, shouldn’t his knights be defending him? Kay dropped a little in his estimation.
‘You’re so funny,’ Kay told him and rolled over so that his body was now way too close.
Merlin was starting to feel uncomfortable. He closed the book with a slam and rolled off the bed.
‘Well that was really… really, uh, interesting. And great books. But I have to go or else Arthur will be looking for me.’
‘Oh. Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed it. In fact, here, take this.’ Kay impulsively pressed the heavy book he’d been reading into his reluctant hands.
‘We’ll do this again?’ the young knight asked hopefully.
‘Definitely.’ Merlin said nodding his head enthusiastically until he was out of the door, where it turned into an even more enthusiastic shake. ‘Not a chance,’ he muttered. He’d rather muck out the stables.
Arthur was still updating the King on his lack of success in tracking the bandits, so Merlin dropped the book off in his room and took the opportunity to race down to the armoury. Between his quest to discover Arthur’s secret, his encounter with Morgana and the wasted couple of hours with Kay, Merlin hadn’t yet had a chance to see to the chainmail and sword he had used that morning. He could already hear Arthur’s scathing words echoing in his head.
Holding up the mail he inspected it for obviously damaged links. He couldn’t spot any flaw. All the links caught the light evenly, which indicated that they were laying smoothly. He thought he might get away with wrapping the mail in oiled cloths and stowing it away, but then he noticed the dirt encrusted down one side.
With a sigh, he crossed to the barrel of coarse sand. He hated this. Scrubbing it in the sand certainly stripped dirt, blood and rust from the links, it also stripped a layer or two of skin from his hands.
‘Hey.’
Merlin turned and saw Gawain smiling at him.
‘Uh, hi?’
‘Oh, don’t you hate doing that,’ Gawain sympathised.
‘Well, it takes a week for the skin to grow back,’ Merlin agreed.
‘You should wear gauntlets. Didn’t Arthur give you any?’
Merlin just shrugged. ‘No.’
He fidgeted under the knight’s stare. And then Gawain was stripping his own leather gloves from his hands and tossing them to Merlin.
‘Here,’ he said kindly.
‘I couldn’t possibly…,’ Merlin began.
‘Really, I insist. They’re old things anyway, I was due a new pair,’ Gawain lied cheerfully.
The leather was still new and uncracked. Merlin eyed them uncertainly.
‘Honestly. Use them or throw them away. It’s up to you.’
‘Well in that case, thank you. It’s very kind of you.’
Gawain was nearly as nice as Lancelot, Merlin decided.
‘There’s a more fun way of cleaning chainmail though,’ Gawain grinned.
He picked up a burlap sack and indicated that Merlin should place the mail inside. He then placed that in a second sack ad tied it off.
‘Now what?’’ Merlin asked curiously.
‘Come on. This is how we used to clean it when we were boys.’
They stepped outside the armoury and Gawain spotted Percival and Caradoc returning from the stables.
‘Hey,’ he called out, and lobbed the mail filled bag high in the air and caught it with a distinct metallic crunch.
‘Oh!’ Percival ran across, eyes alight with anticipation. ‘Toss it here! Caradoc, you’re the pig,’ he called. ‘I haven’t played this in an age!’
And the game was on. The heavy bag launched over Caradoc’s head for Percival to catch with an oomph. Gawain raced to one side and Percival threw it past Caradoc’s reach. Gawain stretched into a dive and ended up rolling with the heavy sack to keep his grip.
They were beginning to attract a crowd and others began to join in. Caradoc finally caught it and Montague was playing piggy, trying to cut out Gawain. Merlin found himself cheering as Gawain leapt high and managed to snatch it at the last minute from Montague’s grasp.
Merlin looked up to see Arthur standing at his side.
‘He’s impressive isn’t he?’ Merlin said with a nod towards Gawain.
‘Yes, he’s very good,’ Arthur replied and wondered at the sour note in his words. He actually found it amusing. They were all aware that Merlin was watching and obviously doing their best to impress him with their prowess. He almost felt sorry for them.
‘Look how far he jumps… oh wow!’ He began shouting as Gawain swept low to catch the sack, landed on his hands, neatly somersaulted over them and sprang to his feet, tossing a grin towards the cheering Merlin.
Arthur didn’t answer because he decided to show them how it should be done, and was now in the middle of the fray, twisting and turning and leaping like an acrobat. Merlin couldn't take his eyes off him. He had never realised that piggy-in-the-middle was a competitive sport.
The sack was thrown forcibly towards Gawain who took it with a grunt and a winded laugh. Montague finally got hold of it when Percival slipped up and threw short. Others were tiring, so gradually it came down to Arthur and Gawain, slamming the makeshift ball at each other and making increasingly incredible moves to catch the sack of mail. Percival was still heroically trying to block, but was considerably outclassed by the other two.
Arthur drew back both his hands and gave a mighty throw. Gawain saw it hurtling towards his head, but by this point his body had taken enough abuse. Instead of catching it he ducked under it and held a hand up in surrender. The bag went whizzing past his shoulder towards Merlin.
It all looked like so much fun that Merlin decided to catch it.
It hit him in the stomach. His breath left his body with a whoosh and he was bowled on to his back, several yards away from where he was standing. .
Merlin was blinking rapidly trying to bring the world back into focus, and then wished he hadn’t bothered. There should be sky above him, but instead his sky was filled with irate prince.
‘What do you think you’re doing, you idiot!’
At least there was nothing wrong with his hearing. He recognised those dulcet tones.
‘Forgot… it was… so heavy…,’ he panted.
‘You really are useless.’ But the tone was kinder and the hands helping him up were gentle.
‘Sorry,’ Gawain said. He looked so upset that Merlin managed to raise a reassuring smile.
‘Not your fault. Arthur’s right. I’m an idiot.’
‘Of course I’m right.’ Arthur replied shortly. ‘Can you stand?’
‘Yeah,’ Merlin said and then gave an unconvincing wobble.
‘Okay. Sit for a second, wait until you’ve caught your breath.’
Gawain, meanwhile, had undone the sacks and shaken out the chainmail.
‘It worked thought. See? Shiny,’ he said.
Merlin laughed at his gleeful face and then clutched at his stomach.
‘Argh. Don’t make me laugh,’ he pleaded.
Gawain’s face dropped.
‘Maybe next time we’d better stick to sand cleaning,’ he suggested regretfully.
‘Nah. I’ve never seen mail cleaned like that before, it was fun.’
Gawain gave a slightly bashful smile and said, ‘I’m glad.’
‘Thanks for your help.’
‘You’re welcome. And don’t forget your gloves.’
Merlin still had them grasped tightly in his hand.
‘Got them,’ he said waving them as Gawain left. ‘Thanks again.’
Arthur returned with some water and dropped down next to Merlin, close at hand, in case he needed help.
‘He’s nice isn’t he?’ Merlin asked as he sipped at it.
‘Take it slowly,’ Arthur cautioned. ‘I don’t want you throwing up all over me.’
‘He gave me gloves for next time I have to sand scrub the chainmail.’
Arthur gave an hmph of annoyance but just said, ‘That was generous of him.’
Merlin was getting tired now and the more tired he was the more his tongue always seemed to carry on.
‘He said they were old. But look, they’re not. They’re brand new.’
‘Indeed,’ Arthur replied neutrally and took the cup from Merlin’s hands.
‘Because cleaning chainmail hurts my hands.’
He was exhausted and missed the flash of something in Arthur’s eyes.
‘Ready to go back?’
Merlin nodded and climbed to his feet. Arthur gave him a supporting arm.
‘He’s a good man,’ Arthur said eventually.
‘What?’
‘Gawain. He’s good man.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Bit of a show off though, isn’t he?’
Arthur’s mouth twitched in amusement.
‘Yeah, a bit.’
‘Do you need me to…,’ Merlin waved his hand to encompass all his Arthur related duties.
‘Need you to what? Collapse on me, whilst serving my wine? No, I don’t. The last thing I need is wine stains over my floor.’ He steered them towards Gaius’ apartment. ‘I need you to go to bed and sleep. You can attend me in the morning.’
‘What about your armour?’ Merlin protested. He didn’t care about much else, but sword and armour he recognised as essential to keeping Arthur alive.
‘There are other servants, you know. And some are actually capable of polishing my sword and armour.
‘Not as well as I do,’ Merlin informed him petulantly because Arthur made it sound as if he could manage perfectly well without his manservant. Which really wasn’t on.
Arthur opened the door and got Merlin inside.
‘Sit,’ he commanded as he lowered Merlin on to a chair.
‘You’re doing the dog thing again,’ Merlin complained.
‘Be quiet, Merlin.’
‘See!’
‘Merlin? Good grief. Boy. What have you done now?’
As Gaius approached and began fluttering around, Arthur straightened and took a step backwards, his face changing to careful blankness appropriate to a prince.
‘He took a bag of chainmail to the stomach. A little winded, I think.’
‘Hmm.’ Gaius pulled up the shirt and began prodding. ‘Some bruising too. Who threw it at you?’
‘No one,’ Merlin said quickly.
Arthur cleared his throat, focused on an interesting bit of wall and said, ‘Actually, it was me.’
‘I see.’ There was a disapproving tilt to Gaius’ mouth.
‘But he was throwing it at Gawain. And Gawain dodged. And then I thought I could catch it but….’
The disapproval lifted slightly, and any that was left was now firmly aimed in Merlin’s direction.
‘Really, Merlin. A few hours training doesn’t mean you can compete with the knights.’
‘He does pretty well, actually,’ Arthur said. And out of the three of them, he didn’t know who was more surprised that he’d uttered those words. ‘Hmm. Anyway, I have to go. Attend me in the morning,’ he quickly finished up, aware of the Gaius’ eyebrow climbing unfeasibly high and a nonplussed Merlin staring at him.
‘Was that a compliment?’ Merlin inquired cocking his head inquisitively.
‘Certainly not. I think you hit your head and now you’re hallucinating,’ Arthur informed him loftily. ‘Gaius. Merlin.’ He nodded and left with as much dignity as he could muster.
A grin touched his lips as he heard Merlin laughing merrily at the inadvertent praise. Although Arthur frequently and outrageously maligned Merlin, that was his prerogative. Merlin was his servant. That didn’t mean he’d put up with anyone else taking pot shots at him. Not even Gaius, it seemed.
…
When Merlin entered his chambers the next morning, the prince was already up and dressed.
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ Merlin asked as he placed dishes on the table and uncovered them.
‘Some of us have busy days ahead, Merlin. We don’t have time to lay abed to all hours. Neither do we have time to loll around in other people’s beds reading books.’
Merlin didn’t know why he blushed, but it sounded a bit incriminating the way Arthur phrased it.
‘You heard about that did you? Well I’ll make sure I don’t have time next time,’ Merlin replied crossly. ‘De Materia Medica isn’t my idea of a fun afternoon.’
Arthur’s expression lightened.
‘So not a success eh? You should feel grateful. The book he lent you is worth a fortune. And you are a physician’s apprentice; it wouldn’t do any harm to know a little bit about actual physiking.’
Merlin thought guiltily of the old book dumped on the floor next to his bed. Perhaps he should move it somewhere out of the reach of the rats and mice.
‘It’s valuable?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘In that case, why did he give it to me? Doesn’t he know that I’m a bit accident prone?’
‘Oh come on. You’re too modest. You being a bit accident prone is like a chicken being a bit feathery.’
‘And everyone knows it,’ Merlin agreed easily. ‘So why give it to me?’
Reaching for a fork, Arthur shrugged his shoulders.
‘He must, I don’t know, like you or something,’ Arthur replied, twisting up his face as though such a thing was incomprehensible to him.
Merlin placed himself opposite, picked up the second fork without waiting for an invitation, and nodded his agreement.
‘That would be it. I am very likeable,’ he assured Arthur earnestly.
‘I suppose you grow on people,’ Arthur admitted grudgingly, but he couldn’t let Merlin get away with that smug look. ‘Like fungus,’ he clarified with a bright smile.
‘Funny.’
‘I thought so.
They ate in companionable silence.
‘How’s the stomach today?’
‘Okay. Although probably not up to rolling around the practice field,’ he added quickly, just in case Arthur’s thoughts were straying that way.
‘Most people stand on the practice field. It’s only you who has to make a spectacle and start rolling around. You’re such a baby, Merlin.’
‘You told Gaius I was an excellent student.’
‘Excellent? I thought it was your stomach affected not your ears. There might have been some faint praise aimed in your direction. Merely to distract you from moaning and whinging, you understand. But as it happens, you can rest easy, there’s no practice today. I have to go hunting these damned robbers again.’
‘You’re not going to find them,’ Merlin informed him as he speared a piece of meat. ‘As soon as they see a group of armed knights they’re going to melt back into the forest.’
‘I’m well aware of that.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
Arthur sighed.
‘Draw them out. Send a couple of lightly armed knights ahead disguised as civilians. The rest of us follow behind.’
‘They’ll be expecting it after yesterday’s expedition. They won’t attack until they’ve made sure that the men are by themselves.’
‘It’s a long shot,’ Arthur admitted.
‘Subterfuge? Merlin questioned.
‘I’ve all ready thought of sending a group of men dressed as townsfolk and hiding their swords in their saddlebags, but I doubt they’d risk attacking a large group no matter how innocuous they appear. I don’t know, it might work, depending on how stupid these bandits are.’
‘How about a group of women?’
Arthur looked at him surprise.
‘Whilst I perfectly appreciate that some women can be as tough as men, I’m not going to send a group of them to knowingly face an armed and dangerous foe.’
‘No, I meant dress a group of knights up as women.’
Arthur looked at him as though he had gone insane. The expression turned to a reluctant grin and the grin became a chuckle.
‘What? It’s a good plan,’ Merlin replied, aggrieved that his idea had caused so much amusement.
‘Oh dear lord. Romford in a dress!’ His chuckles bubbled into laughter. It was contagious and an answering grin appeared on Merlin’s face as he began to appreciate the humour.
‘Or Hector. Those bushy eyebrows,’ he supplied, his grin turning wicked and beginning to giggle at the image.
‘The eyebrows? How can you even think of the eyebrows? He has a beard!’ Arthur asked incredulously.
‘Yeah, well. You never said they had to be pretty women,’ Merlin pointed out.
They stared at each other for a second and then simultaneously spluttered with laughter.
‘Damn. I’m going to do it,’ Arthur decided.
‘I want to watch them ride out but I won’t be able to keep a straight face. It’ll be hilarious.’
‘You know, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a pretty girl with us. It would help sell the ruse.’
‘I don’t think you’re in Morgana’s good books at the moment.’
Arthur continued to stare at him.
‘Oh no. Definitely not. I’d be useless against bandits. And anyway, I’m not pretty!’
And Arthur finally broke eye contact.
‘You’re probably right.’
And Merlin suspected he was really turning into a woman because now he’d got his own way he felt surprisingly miffed.
‘I meant,’ Arthur said placatingly, ‘we have people trained for this. There’s no need to risk actual civilians.’
‘So… are you going to dress up as a girl?’ Merlin asked hiding a smile in his water cup.
‘The group will need a few men with them. Otherwise it would look suspicious.’
‘Yeah, but you’re too noble to ask of your men something that you wouldn’t do yourself.’
‘Did you really have to say that?’ Arthur groaned morosely. Now that Merlin had pointed it out to him, his honour wouldn’t let him do anything else except lead by example.
‘Don’t look so down. I’m sure you’ll look lovely. You said yourself that you needed a pretty girl in the group.’
‘Oh shut up, Merlin.’
After Arthur had left for his pre-training training session, Merlin decided that even if he wasn’t going to be part of the hunting party he could still help in a practical way. Or he knew someone who could.
...
Instead of pre-training, Arthur ended up running the disguise idea past Romford, half expecting it to be shot down and preferring that it happened in private and not when the other men were looking on.
Romford, however, wasn’t laughing when he heard the idea. They were still discussing it when the others joined them
‘Lure them out? It’s a sound tactic. Merlin thought of this?’
‘Yeah.
‘Handsome and clever,’ Romford said admiringly.
‘Spare me please. Sir Kay cornered me last night. If I have to hear one more thing about Merlin’s sterling qualities, I’m going to gag. How come no one mentions that he eats like a pig, dances like he has too many limbs and thinks his jokes are hilarious?’
‘His jokes are sort of funny,’ Caradoc pointed out.
But Montague seized on the other revelation.
‘He can’t dance?’
‘Dance? He’s hardly got the coordination to walk.’
‘Did you have to say that?’ Percival hissed.
‘What?’
‘That he can’t dance? Surely you know Montague is a dancing master? Now he’s going to offer to teach Merlin. Have his hands on him for hours at a time whilst they prance up and down.’
‘Oh, I never thought of that.’
Percival merely glowered at him, and Arthur wasn’t too happy with himself either.
Romford was continuing to detail the plan.
‘I know you all find it amusing, but we only need to pass from a distance.’
‘How about if we have a carriage so that our poor mounts don’t have to carry us lady-style?’
‘The point is to make sure the ‘ladies’ are seen. Tucking them away in the carriage won’t help.’
‘But we can’t ride side saddle. I’ve never understood how ladies could ride in that fashion without sliding off,’ Percival said.
‘Some use special saddles….’
‘Yes, and unless you never want to father children I wouldn’t recommend you use them,’ Arthur replied.
And then he caught sight of Morgana walking towards them, and frowned.
‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘Because if you’re here to harangue me like a common fishwife then I would prefer you kept it for later. Or actually? Never would be a good time for me.’
‘Don’t be childish, Arthur. Merlin mentioned to Gwen that you might need help dressing your knights. I bring you clothes.
Arthur noticed the couple of servants, arms laden with brightly coloured materials.
‘Oh right. Uh thank you.’
‘Just to be clear this is not an apology. I was definitely in the right to say all the things I said,’ Morgana informed him lifting her chin. ‘I just want to help.’
She appeared to be waiting for an answer, and looked curiously vulnerable.
‘Okay. I accept your not-an-apology in the spirit it was offered.’
For once he must have managed to say the right thing because her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened.
‘So who are we dressing as women?’ she asked, eyeing the potential candidates with a predatory eye.
Arthur looked at the milling knights.
‘I don’t know. I’m not too proud to take advice,’ he said generously.
Although grateful for the help, more importantly he wanted to make peace with her. Morgana was never happier than when she was organising and ordering others around. Arthur was fairly sure he was back in her good books.
‘Hmmm. How many?’
‘Four or five? Including me.’
His eyes challenged her to say anything. But she merely nodded.
‘Good.’
She made her way through the knights, hand picking those she wanted.
By the time Merlin and Gwen joined them she had corralled Arthur and three others, and was currently forcing their limbs into dresses. It wasn’t going that well.
‘And we don’t really need dresses. A bright cloak and a veil for the face will surely be adequate? We can still wear leggings and chain mail under the cloaks. Show a flash of jewels around our necks, enough to tempt the robbers into making a move. We don’t need to fool them when they get closer because at that point we’ll just draw our swords and attack,’ Arthur was arguing.
Morgana was at least considering this.
‘Why did she choose me?’ Willard complained. ‘I don’t look anything like a woman.
‘I think it’s probably because you have such lovely hair,’ Merlin replied tactfully. ‘It’s long, and it’s a pretty colour.’
‘You think I have nice hair?’
‘Oh. Yes. Definitely.’
Willard dragged a hand self-consciously through long straw strands.
‘It was my mother. She would never let me cut it,’ he explained. ‘And somehow I can never bring myself to shear it off. She would be so disappointed. I know the others make fun of me but….’ He gave a shrug.
Merlin noticed that when Willard was being completely sincere the poetical flourishes disappeared from his speech.
‘I can understand that. Why upset them, when it takes such a small thing to keep them happy?’ he replied with a smile. ‘Here let me help you with that.’
Despite being absorbed in bickering with Morgana, Arthur couldn’t help keeping half an eye on Merlin. He could have sworn that he heard Merlin say Willard had pretty hair. Which was ludicrous because there was nothing special about the boy’s hair unless you happened to like long, sun-coloured hair that curled slightly and gave his face the aspect of an angel.
‘And we definitely don’t need to cover our faces in powder and paint,’ Arthur said, more vehemently than he intended.
‘But why not? I know how much you love to look gorgeous….’
‘I am gorgeous.’
‘Surely you know he’s lily. He doesn’t need gilding,’ Merlin called across.
‘I am not a lily,’ Arthur protested.
‘I’m trying to help.’
‘Well stop trying to help. You’re making it worse.’
‘Well if you want to end up with bright red lips and kohl eyes….’
This was met by stony silence. And then Arthur turned back to Morgana.
‘As Merlin said. I’m a lily, I don’t need gilding.’
By midday, clothes had been chosen and horses saddled. Morgana was demonstrating how to ride side saddle. Luckily, all their training had given most of the knights an excellent sense of balance, which stood them in good stead as they rode for the first time with their weight supported by a single stirrup and one leg swung over the central pommel.
’Stop twisting. Face the front. If you ride like that you’ll damage the horse’s back. No. Sit squarely. Watch Arthur. Sir Kay, I think it best if you play a maid servant and sit astride.’
All in all the party didn’t look too bad. Arthur, Willard, Kay and Montague were disguised by high necked travelling dresses, which they slipped their arms into but actually had no backs. Instead they were loosely tied around their bodies. Long cloaks draped over their shoulders and flowed out over their horses, effectively hiding their chain mail and incomplete dresses.
Bangles caught the sunlight and bright necklaces dangled and contrasted against their gowns. Willard’s hair was left loose and the others had light veils to cover their heads. At a distant it was good enough. Romford, Hector, Gawain and Caradoc, dressed in the velvets and silk of rich nobles, completed the party
Merlin was disappointed. It all looked utilitarian and practical and was hardly hilarious at all.
And amazingly it all went to plan.
After an hour of riding, they spotted a flash of colour in the trees. The ‘ladies’ lowered their heads and the men began to talk and laugh noisily, looking for all the world like proud, oblivious lordlings.
This lulled the watching bandits into of false sense of security, and eventually they made their move.
The knights pretended not to notice as they clumsily drew closer. They froze, as if in fear, when it was no longer possible to ignore the fact that they were surrounded. The band of robbers gained confidence, certain of easy pickings. Even as they approached they were dividing up the women, one claiming the pretty one, whilst another crudely explained what he was going to do to the hoity-toity one.
Willard actually beat Arthur when reaching for his sword. All his life he had been mocked for his sweet looks and blond locks, and being called pretty was the final insult. He was a knight of Camelot. He practised with weapons for hours every day. He would lay down his life if asked. He was one of the Prince’s elite and a warrior through and through.
Arthur, on the other hand, wasn’t too bothered by the ‘hoity-toity’ label. Merlin said worse to him every day. He was bothered, deeply bothered by their intentions, and was thankful it wasn’t actually women caught out here.
The bandits were quickly routed, over half of them were injured and he suspected at least two of them wouldn't recover. Strangely enough, it was the two who had been so casually vocal about raping women.
For their part, the knights were hardly out of breath. Arthur could feel himself swelling with pride as he looked at them, stripping off their dresses, their rich jackets and gewgaws, until they were down to chain mail’ leggings and drawn swords, which were expertly wiped down before being returned to their sheaths.
This is what they were underneath the fine clothes and disguises - consummate fighters. Tough. Brave. Loyal. His.
‘Good work. You did well.’
They responded by sitting a little straighter as they rode back in triumph.
Merlin must have been looking out for them because by the time Arthur reached the stable, there he was waiting, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet.
‘Well? Did it work? Did you find them?’
‘It worked like a dream,’ Gawain replied. ‘It was an excellent plan.’
Merlin laughed happily, but his eyes were apprehensive and still on Arthur, awaiting his response. Which mollified Arthur slightly.
He had been feeling irritated at Gawain for answering when Merlin was obviously talking to Arthur. Gawain was one of his best friends, and Arthur loved him, he really did. But not when he deliberately attempted to steal Merlin’s attention away. It was impolite, bordering on rude. Arthur would never try to steal Gawain’s manservant’s attention. True, he was about sixty-years old, but that wasn’t the point.
‘It went well,’ he said, and was gratified to see the apprehension flee and Merlin’s face light up with sheer pleasure.
‘Really?’ he asked.
Arthur handed him the reins and slid from his steed. He used his teeth to pull at the first leather gauntlet, loosening it enough so that he could wriggle his hand out and quickly strip the other hand bare
Merlin was bouncing so hard that Arthur had an urge to touch him, to feel that energy thrumming under the palm of his hand.
‘Really,’ he replied.
He could feel the joy in Merlin spilling over and suspected that if he had been anyone else, then Merlin would be flinging arms around him and hugging him in exultation.
Because there was always something so raw about Merlin, as though he lived outside his skin. Whatever emotion caught at him, immediately rippled across his surface, revealed by expression or words or actions. It’s why he was such a rubbish liar. Even when his mouth spouted denials, his whole body screamed the truth.
It was fascinating to Arthur, who was taught to hide emotions, reveal nothing, smile when he’s furious, act serene when he wants to fall to pieces. He sometimes felt that the mismatch between what he felt on the inside and what he displayed on the outside unbalanced him to an unhealthy degree, but he accepted it as a necessary skill for a future king.
Except with Merlin it was different. It’s not that he ripped away the masks Arthur wore. It’s more like he didn’t even see the masks. The prince? The invulnerable leader? The obedient son? His sharp eyes pierced straight through to the prat, the bully, the doubter.
It used to make him feel vulnerable and defensive, knowing that this man saw through him so completely. Nowadays, it was more like a little bit of sanity, the dislocation between what he felt and what he showed to the world was stripped away, the tension between inside and outside uncoiled, and for a while he found balance again.
And occasionally Merlin would look at Arthur as if seeing something beyond the prat and the bully. He had no idea what it was, but when Merlin looked at him as though he had some rare magical qualities, he thought maybe he would have the strength to build the Camelot he dreamed of, because when Merlin gazed at him in honest wonder he felt like he could accomplish anything.
‘And you’re okay?’ Merlin’s eyes were raking over Arthur looking for signs injury.
And Arthur couldn’t help himself. He gave in to his own craving, reaching out he rested one hand on Merlin’s shoulder. He could feel the coarseness of the shirt, the underlying warmth of skin, and there it was… the shuddering tension.
It was as if his touch triggered its release. It burst against him like a shock of static, shimmering through sinew and bone. It was powerful and raw, and had him blinking and awed.
Merlin was looking back at him as wide-eyed as Arthur felt.
Arthur could hear Bedevere muttering something about a falcon, and the moment between them broke as Caradoc stepped forward, taking the reins from Merlin’s hand and passing the horse to a stable boy.
‘You should have been there, Merlin!’ His voice boomed, and unravelled whatever spell hung between master and servant. Arthur’s hand dropped as Caradoc pulled Merlin into a bear hug.
‘It worked wonderfully,’ he proclaimed with a laugh.
The others began to push forward to spin the simple expedition into a tale of derring-do. Merlin glanced towards Arthur with an unreadable look but allowed himself to be dragged away.
Caradoc shivered as he felt a death glare hit him between the shoulders and wondered if he could plead sickness to avoid morning practice, because merely limping from the session now seemed like a misplaced hope.
By the time Arthur walked back to his room, he had convinced himself that the moment had never happened. And if it had, it meant nothing because he would never fall for a servant again. Especially not one that kept secrets from him. Not that Merlin could even keep secrets, always doing stupid things that screamed of sorcery.
It was best to just ignore him. Arthur was either going to lose him to one of his knights or would have to make him leave to save him from the executioners block. Just as well he thought all this through before he got too attached to the idiot.
So with that all cleared up he donned a cheerful face and went to report his success to the King.
He just wished he wasn’t feeling that crazy imbalance again. It was making him dizzy and nauseous.
Part 6
Part 5
With no signs of the band of robbers, Arthur gave the company the signal to return to Camelot. They all relaxed their guard a little, but remained alert. Arthur was disappointed, conscious that he’d have to face his father and report failure, but he kept a good-humoured façade for the sake of his men. The others were in good spirits, enjoying the ride, allowing their horses to stretch into a gallop when the path widened enough to allow it. They needed to relax more, Arthur thought.
Caradoc gave a discreet nod to Bedevere and Romford and the three knights slowed their horses, dropping behind the main party so they could speak without fear of being overheard.
‘I’m sure he’s very nice, but tell me why we’re all making googly eyes at Arthur’s servant,’ Caradoc demanded grumpily. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m finally making headway with Lady Jemima….’
This was met with snorts of derision.
‘No, really. She acknowledged me!’
‘You were standing in her path, you numbskull. She either acknowledged you or walked right over you,’ Bedevere replied scornfully.
‘She already walks right over him,’ Romford remarked as he scanned the surrounding trees.
‘Well, that’s true. Good point.’
‘Haha,’ Caradoc responded irritably. ‘And you two haven’t answered my question. If I’m jeopardising my chance with the charming Jemima, at least tell me it’s for a good reason.’
‘It’s for a good reason,’ Bedevere told him obligingly.
Caradoc rolled his eyes. ‘A few more details if you please.’
Romford glanced at Bedevere and answered, ‘Arthur’s is becoming isolated. He needs someone.’
Bedevere sighed in relief.
‘I thought you were serious when you were bickering over Merlin.’
‘Hardly matters if I was or not. The boy has eyes only for the prince.’
‘You have no interest in Merlin at all, do you? I swear you do it just to wind up Gawain, which isn’t very noble of you.’
‘I’m responsible for the welfare of the youngsters and a vigorous argument is good for the spleen.’
‘And Gawain now has an exceptionally healthy spleen? I apologise for doubting your honourable intentions,’ Bedevere replied with a certain irony.
‘Apology accepted, Sir Knight,’ Romford responded with a small bow and twinkling eyes.
His forbidding exterior belied Romford’s underlying sense of fun. It had taken Bedevere a good year to lose his fear of the elder knight and realise that half the things he said were accompanied by that humorous twinkle.
‘So… Merlin and Arthur,’ Caradoc said slowly, bringing the conversation back on topic. He was surprised that Bedevere, of all people, was advocating this. Everyone knew his opinion of common men.
But it was Bedevere who nodded and said, ‘That’s the idea.’
‘But why him? Why not Gawain? Or you? And don’t pretend you don’t love the Prince more than life.’
Romford spared Bedevere the necessity or responding by saying, ‘He’s growing up. He needs someone more permanent. An unwed Prince is too important a bargaining chip for Uther to consent to marriage. And these young knights all have their own responsibilities and duties.’
‘Father is making noises about marriage and securing alliances,’ Bedevere confirmed. ‘Everything here is ending. The best thing we can do for Arthur is return to our homes and win the loyalty of our own people. If he’s going to survive as king he’ll need strong lords with armies at their backs, not spoilt knights lounging around the court, getting fat and complacent whilst they cling on to Pendragon coattails.’
Romford nodded.
‘And to become strong they need to be able fill their father’s shoes, learn how to rule their own lands, win the hearts and minds of their people, tell the tales about Camelot and its prince.’
‘As for Arthur, he’s already lonely. And he’ll grow more cut-off as we abandon him,’ Bedevere said softly. ‘He’ll trust others with his back but not with his heart. Do we really want another Uther?’ He gave a quick glance to Romford. ‘No disrespect intended but his heart froze to ice twenty years ago, and look what came of that.’
‘I know my king’s weaknesses,’ Romford informed him stiffly.
‘But Merlin? A servant?’
‘I know. It shouldn’t work. But Merlin doesn’t know that. He behaves as if they’re equals. And Arthur, well Arthur does too,’ Bedevere replied. ‘It’s already his responsibility to look after the Prince. His only family is his mother, and he has no other duties to force him away. Arthur is clearly fond of him. We all know he defied the King and risked his life to bring back a cure when Merlin sickened. This could work. They could be together until the death and no one would ever comment on it.’
Caradoc thought about this and could see the logic.
‘So the plan is…?’
‘We woo Merlin and make Arthur jealous.’
‘That’s the best you could come up with? Really?’ Caradoc shook his head. ‘Are we twelve year old girls now?’
‘You wish. Some of us aspire to be twelve-year old girls,’ Bedevere replied with a toss of his head and a pout, causing Caradoc to chuckle at the uncanny impression of Willard
‘Sometimes simple is best. So are we agreed? Operation Falcon is a go?’ Romford asked.
‘Operation Falcon?’
‘Operation Merlin would make Arthur or Merlin curious if either overheard. And falcon is still a bird of prey.’
‘Why not an eagle?’
‘Because falcon was my idea, I’m the oldest and I outrank you. And before you make fun of my age, I should just remind you that I’ll be requiring a volunteer next time I’m demonstrating a lethal move.’
‘Actually, that’s a point. If Arthur really does like Merlin then he’s going to hate us. We’re going to suffer for this,’ Caradoc pointed out.
Bedevere looked stricken.
‘He’s going to beat seven bells out of us,’ he said, not very happy at this painful flaw in their plan.
‘What doesn’t break you makes you stronger,’ Romford parroted cheerfully.
‘Yes, well. It’s not going to be you limping from the practice field, is it?’ Caradoc complained.
‘Where’s your backbone, boy?’
‘In my back. And I’d prefer to keep it there, not have it ripped out through my mouth.’
‘Just think, Arthur will thank you for this one day.’
‘If we’re still alive to see that day,’ he replied morbidly.
‘Should we let the others know about Operation Falcon?’ Bedevere asked.
Romford clapped him on the back and laughed.
‘Where’s the fun in that?’
‘But… supposing one of them succeeds?’
‘You think young Kay or Willard can hold a candle to Arthur?’
‘No…. But Gawain?’
‘Ah, you forget. Arthur has already caught his affection, and if Merlin really is that fickle then he’s not the one either.’
And so it was decided. They trotted back to Camelot discussing tactics as though this were war, not love.
…
‘Merlin!’ A voice called.
With thoughts still lingering on Morgana’s revelations, Merlin was drawn abruptly from his reverie by the ringing greeting, and looked up to see Sir Kay bounding towards him like an overgrown puppy.
‘I was looking for you. I’ve noticed that you help out that old physician.’
‘Uh, yes. Gaius,’ Merlin confirmed. ‘Oh, are you sick? Because I could go fetch him?’
He was about to scurry off in search of Gaius.
‘No, no,’ Kay said quickly. ‘That’s not it. I just had a thought. I have with me a couple of books from my own father’s library, on medicinal herbs and such. I thought they might be of interest to you? They are rather unique. You could astound Gaius with your extensive knowledge,’ he said with a grin.
‘That’s very good of you, thank you.’
Studying books wasn’t exactly Merlin’s favourite way of passing time, but it was still thoughtful of young Kay.
‘I’d appreciate the company, actually, so do say you’ll take a look.’
He laid a friendly hand on Merlin’s arm.
And Merlin had to admit it was very nice of him, so he smiled and said, ‘I’d love to.’
Kay glowed pink with pleasure and cheerfully walked Merlin to his room, with Merlin insensible to Kay smirking in triumph at any knights they passed, and their looks of consternation as the door to Kay’s room firmly shut on the two of them.
‘Oh. He’s thrown down the gauntlet now!’ Montague exclaimed.
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Percival placated him. ‘This is Sir Kay we’re talking about. He’s only just outgrown his short trousers. He’s probably literally showing Merlin his etchings.’
Merlin could only wish it were that interesting. They were both on Kay’s bed propped upright on the bolster. Merlin was currently feigning interest in wormwort, which gives aid for biliary disorders, according to Kay. But if used to excess would turn a person into a fool.
‘Hah. That explains Arthur then,’ Merlin said, happy to get some small entertainment out of the afternoon.
But even that was soured because Kay initially looked shocked at the insult to his Prince, then began a nervous titter, which merely irritated Merlin. It was worse because he felt like a traitor for belittling Arthur to one of his knights when he wasn’t here to offer a comeback or a putdown. And really, shouldn’t his knights be defending him? Kay dropped a little in his estimation.
‘You’re so funny,’ Kay told him and rolled over so that his body was now way too close.
Merlin was starting to feel uncomfortable. He closed the book with a slam and rolled off the bed.
‘Well that was really… really, uh, interesting. And great books. But I have to go or else Arthur will be looking for me.’
‘Oh. Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed it. In fact, here, take this.’ Kay impulsively pressed the heavy book he’d been reading into his reluctant hands.
‘We’ll do this again?’ the young knight asked hopefully.
‘Definitely.’ Merlin said nodding his head enthusiastically until he was out of the door, where it turned into an even more enthusiastic shake. ‘Not a chance,’ he muttered. He’d rather muck out the stables.
Arthur was still updating the King on his lack of success in tracking the bandits, so Merlin dropped the book off in his room and took the opportunity to race down to the armoury. Between his quest to discover Arthur’s secret, his encounter with Morgana and the wasted couple of hours with Kay, Merlin hadn’t yet had a chance to see to the chainmail and sword he had used that morning. He could already hear Arthur’s scathing words echoing in his head.
Holding up the mail he inspected it for obviously damaged links. He couldn’t spot any flaw. All the links caught the light evenly, which indicated that they were laying smoothly. He thought he might get away with wrapping the mail in oiled cloths and stowing it away, but then he noticed the dirt encrusted down one side.
With a sigh, he crossed to the barrel of coarse sand. He hated this. Scrubbing it in the sand certainly stripped dirt, blood and rust from the links, it also stripped a layer or two of skin from his hands.
‘Hey.’
Merlin turned and saw Gawain smiling at him.
‘Uh, hi?’
‘Oh, don’t you hate doing that,’ Gawain sympathised.
‘Well, it takes a week for the skin to grow back,’ Merlin agreed.
‘You should wear gauntlets. Didn’t Arthur give you any?’
Merlin just shrugged. ‘No.’
He fidgeted under the knight’s stare. And then Gawain was stripping his own leather gloves from his hands and tossing them to Merlin.
‘Here,’ he said kindly.
‘I couldn’t possibly…,’ Merlin began.
‘Really, I insist. They’re old things anyway, I was due a new pair,’ Gawain lied cheerfully.
The leather was still new and uncracked. Merlin eyed them uncertainly.
‘Honestly. Use them or throw them away. It’s up to you.’
‘Well in that case, thank you. It’s very kind of you.’
Gawain was nearly as nice as Lancelot, Merlin decided.
‘There’s a more fun way of cleaning chainmail though,’ Gawain grinned.
He picked up a burlap sack and indicated that Merlin should place the mail inside. He then placed that in a second sack ad tied it off.
‘Now what?’’ Merlin asked curiously.
‘Come on. This is how we used to clean it when we were boys.’
They stepped outside the armoury and Gawain spotted Percival and Caradoc returning from the stables.
‘Hey,’ he called out, and lobbed the mail filled bag high in the air and caught it with a distinct metallic crunch.
‘Oh!’ Percival ran across, eyes alight with anticipation. ‘Toss it here! Caradoc, you’re the pig,’ he called. ‘I haven’t played this in an age!’
And the game was on. The heavy bag launched over Caradoc’s head for Percival to catch with an oomph. Gawain raced to one side and Percival threw it past Caradoc’s reach. Gawain stretched into a dive and ended up rolling with the heavy sack to keep his grip.
They were beginning to attract a crowd and others began to join in. Caradoc finally caught it and Montague was playing piggy, trying to cut out Gawain. Merlin found himself cheering as Gawain leapt high and managed to snatch it at the last minute from Montague’s grasp.
Merlin looked up to see Arthur standing at his side.
‘He’s impressive isn’t he?’ Merlin said with a nod towards Gawain.
‘Yes, he’s very good,’ Arthur replied and wondered at the sour note in his words. He actually found it amusing. They were all aware that Merlin was watching and obviously doing their best to impress him with their prowess. He almost felt sorry for them.
‘Look how far he jumps… oh wow!’ He began shouting as Gawain swept low to catch the sack, landed on his hands, neatly somersaulted over them and sprang to his feet, tossing a grin towards the cheering Merlin.
Arthur didn’t answer because he decided to show them how it should be done, and was now in the middle of the fray, twisting and turning and leaping like an acrobat. Merlin couldn't take his eyes off him. He had never realised that piggy-in-the-middle was a competitive sport.
The sack was thrown forcibly towards Gawain who took it with a grunt and a winded laugh. Montague finally got hold of it when Percival slipped up and threw short. Others were tiring, so gradually it came down to Arthur and Gawain, slamming the makeshift ball at each other and making increasingly incredible moves to catch the sack of mail. Percival was still heroically trying to block, but was considerably outclassed by the other two.
Arthur drew back both his hands and gave a mighty throw. Gawain saw it hurtling towards his head, but by this point his body had taken enough abuse. Instead of catching it he ducked under it and held a hand up in surrender. The bag went whizzing past his shoulder towards Merlin.
It all looked like so much fun that Merlin decided to catch it.
It hit him in the stomach. His breath left his body with a whoosh and he was bowled on to his back, several yards away from where he was standing. .
Merlin was blinking rapidly trying to bring the world back into focus, and then wished he hadn’t bothered. There should be sky above him, but instead his sky was filled with irate prince.
‘What do you think you’re doing, you idiot!’
At least there was nothing wrong with his hearing. He recognised those dulcet tones.
‘Forgot… it was… so heavy…,’ he panted.
‘You really are useless.’ But the tone was kinder and the hands helping him up were gentle.
‘Sorry,’ Gawain said. He looked so upset that Merlin managed to raise a reassuring smile.
‘Not your fault. Arthur’s right. I’m an idiot.’
‘Of course I’m right.’ Arthur replied shortly. ‘Can you stand?’
‘Yeah,’ Merlin said and then gave an unconvincing wobble.
‘Okay. Sit for a second, wait until you’ve caught your breath.’
Gawain, meanwhile, had undone the sacks and shaken out the chainmail.
‘It worked thought. See? Shiny,’ he said.
Merlin laughed at his gleeful face and then clutched at his stomach.
‘Argh. Don’t make me laugh,’ he pleaded.
Gawain’s face dropped.
‘Maybe next time we’d better stick to sand cleaning,’ he suggested regretfully.
‘Nah. I’ve never seen mail cleaned like that before, it was fun.’
Gawain gave a slightly bashful smile and said, ‘I’m glad.’
‘Thanks for your help.’
‘You’re welcome. And don’t forget your gloves.’
Merlin still had them grasped tightly in his hand.
‘Got them,’ he said waving them as Gawain left. ‘Thanks again.’
Arthur returned with some water and dropped down next to Merlin, close at hand, in case he needed help.
‘He’s nice isn’t he?’ Merlin asked as he sipped at it.
‘Take it slowly,’ Arthur cautioned. ‘I don’t want you throwing up all over me.’
‘He gave me gloves for next time I have to sand scrub the chainmail.’
Arthur gave an hmph of annoyance but just said, ‘That was generous of him.’
Merlin was getting tired now and the more tired he was the more his tongue always seemed to carry on.
‘He said they were old. But look, they’re not. They’re brand new.’
‘Indeed,’ Arthur replied neutrally and took the cup from Merlin’s hands.
‘Because cleaning chainmail hurts my hands.’
He was exhausted and missed the flash of something in Arthur’s eyes.
‘Ready to go back?’
Merlin nodded and climbed to his feet. Arthur gave him a supporting arm.
‘He’s a good man,’ Arthur said eventually.
‘What?’
‘Gawain. He’s good man.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Bit of a show off though, isn’t he?’
Arthur’s mouth twitched in amusement.
‘Yeah, a bit.’
‘Do you need me to…,’ Merlin waved his hand to encompass all his Arthur related duties.
‘Need you to what? Collapse on me, whilst serving my wine? No, I don’t. The last thing I need is wine stains over my floor.’ He steered them towards Gaius’ apartment. ‘I need you to go to bed and sleep. You can attend me in the morning.’
‘What about your armour?’ Merlin protested. He didn’t care about much else, but sword and armour he recognised as essential to keeping Arthur alive.
‘There are other servants, you know. And some are actually capable of polishing my sword and armour.
‘Not as well as I do,’ Merlin informed him petulantly because Arthur made it sound as if he could manage perfectly well without his manservant. Which really wasn’t on.
Arthur opened the door and got Merlin inside.
‘Sit,’ he commanded as he lowered Merlin on to a chair.
‘You’re doing the dog thing again,’ Merlin complained.
‘Be quiet, Merlin.’
‘See!’
‘Merlin? Good grief. Boy. What have you done now?’
As Gaius approached and began fluttering around, Arthur straightened and took a step backwards, his face changing to careful blankness appropriate to a prince.
‘He took a bag of chainmail to the stomach. A little winded, I think.’
‘Hmm.’ Gaius pulled up the shirt and began prodding. ‘Some bruising too. Who threw it at you?’
‘No one,’ Merlin said quickly.
Arthur cleared his throat, focused on an interesting bit of wall and said, ‘Actually, it was me.’
‘I see.’ There was a disapproving tilt to Gaius’ mouth.
‘But he was throwing it at Gawain. And Gawain dodged. And then I thought I could catch it but….’
The disapproval lifted slightly, and any that was left was now firmly aimed in Merlin’s direction.
‘Really, Merlin. A few hours training doesn’t mean you can compete with the knights.’
‘He does pretty well, actually,’ Arthur said. And out of the three of them, he didn’t know who was more surprised that he’d uttered those words. ‘Hmm. Anyway, I have to go. Attend me in the morning,’ he quickly finished up, aware of the Gaius’ eyebrow climbing unfeasibly high and a nonplussed Merlin staring at him.
‘Was that a compliment?’ Merlin inquired cocking his head inquisitively.
‘Certainly not. I think you hit your head and now you’re hallucinating,’ Arthur informed him loftily. ‘Gaius. Merlin.’ He nodded and left with as much dignity as he could muster.
A grin touched his lips as he heard Merlin laughing merrily at the inadvertent praise. Although Arthur frequently and outrageously maligned Merlin, that was his prerogative. Merlin was his servant. That didn’t mean he’d put up with anyone else taking pot shots at him. Not even Gaius, it seemed.
…
When Merlin entered his chambers the next morning, the prince was already up and dressed.
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ Merlin asked as he placed dishes on the table and uncovered them.
‘Some of us have busy days ahead, Merlin. We don’t have time to lay abed to all hours. Neither do we have time to loll around in other people’s beds reading books.’
Merlin didn’t know why he blushed, but it sounded a bit incriminating the way Arthur phrased it.
‘You heard about that did you? Well I’ll make sure I don’t have time next time,’ Merlin replied crossly. ‘De Materia Medica isn’t my idea of a fun afternoon.’
Arthur’s expression lightened.
‘So not a success eh? You should feel grateful. The book he lent you is worth a fortune. And you are a physician’s apprentice; it wouldn’t do any harm to know a little bit about actual physiking.’
Merlin thought guiltily of the old book dumped on the floor next to his bed. Perhaps he should move it somewhere out of the reach of the rats and mice.
‘It’s valuable?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘In that case, why did he give it to me? Doesn’t he know that I’m a bit accident prone?’
‘Oh come on. You’re too modest. You being a bit accident prone is like a chicken being a bit feathery.’
‘And everyone knows it,’ Merlin agreed easily. ‘So why give it to me?’
Reaching for a fork, Arthur shrugged his shoulders.
‘He must, I don’t know, like you or something,’ Arthur replied, twisting up his face as though such a thing was incomprehensible to him.
Merlin placed himself opposite, picked up the second fork without waiting for an invitation, and nodded his agreement.
‘That would be it. I am very likeable,’ he assured Arthur earnestly.
‘I suppose you grow on people,’ Arthur admitted grudgingly, but he couldn’t let Merlin get away with that smug look. ‘Like fungus,’ he clarified with a bright smile.
‘Funny.’
‘I thought so.
They ate in companionable silence.
‘How’s the stomach today?’
‘Okay. Although probably not up to rolling around the practice field,’ he added quickly, just in case Arthur’s thoughts were straying that way.
‘Most people stand on the practice field. It’s only you who has to make a spectacle and start rolling around. You’re such a baby, Merlin.’
‘You told Gaius I was an excellent student.’
‘Excellent? I thought it was your stomach affected not your ears. There might have been some faint praise aimed in your direction. Merely to distract you from moaning and whinging, you understand. But as it happens, you can rest easy, there’s no practice today. I have to go hunting these damned robbers again.’
‘You’re not going to find them,’ Merlin informed him as he speared a piece of meat. ‘As soon as they see a group of armed knights they’re going to melt back into the forest.’
‘I’m well aware of that.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
Arthur sighed.
‘Draw them out. Send a couple of lightly armed knights ahead disguised as civilians. The rest of us follow behind.’
‘They’ll be expecting it after yesterday’s expedition. They won’t attack until they’ve made sure that the men are by themselves.’
‘It’s a long shot,’ Arthur admitted.
‘Subterfuge? Merlin questioned.
‘I’ve all ready thought of sending a group of men dressed as townsfolk and hiding their swords in their saddlebags, but I doubt they’d risk attacking a large group no matter how innocuous they appear. I don’t know, it might work, depending on how stupid these bandits are.’
‘How about a group of women?’
Arthur looked at him surprise.
‘Whilst I perfectly appreciate that some women can be as tough as men, I’m not going to send a group of them to knowingly face an armed and dangerous foe.’
‘No, I meant dress a group of knights up as women.’
Arthur looked at him as though he had gone insane. The expression turned to a reluctant grin and the grin became a chuckle.
‘What? It’s a good plan,’ Merlin replied, aggrieved that his idea had caused so much amusement.
‘Oh dear lord. Romford in a dress!’ His chuckles bubbled into laughter. It was contagious and an answering grin appeared on Merlin’s face as he began to appreciate the humour.
‘Or Hector. Those bushy eyebrows,’ he supplied, his grin turning wicked and beginning to giggle at the image.
‘The eyebrows? How can you even think of the eyebrows? He has a beard!’ Arthur asked incredulously.
‘Yeah, well. You never said they had to be pretty women,’ Merlin pointed out.
They stared at each other for a second and then simultaneously spluttered with laughter.
‘Damn. I’m going to do it,’ Arthur decided.
‘I want to watch them ride out but I won’t be able to keep a straight face. It’ll be hilarious.’
‘You know, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a pretty girl with us. It would help sell the ruse.’
‘I don’t think you’re in Morgana’s good books at the moment.’
Arthur continued to stare at him.
‘Oh no. Definitely not. I’d be useless against bandits. And anyway, I’m not pretty!’
And Arthur finally broke eye contact.
‘You’re probably right.’
And Merlin suspected he was really turning into a woman because now he’d got his own way he felt surprisingly miffed.
‘I meant,’ Arthur said placatingly, ‘we have people trained for this. There’s no need to risk actual civilians.’
‘So… are you going to dress up as a girl?’ Merlin asked hiding a smile in his water cup.
‘The group will need a few men with them. Otherwise it would look suspicious.’
‘Yeah, but you’re too noble to ask of your men something that you wouldn’t do yourself.’
‘Did you really have to say that?’ Arthur groaned morosely. Now that Merlin had pointed it out to him, his honour wouldn’t let him do anything else except lead by example.
‘Don’t look so down. I’m sure you’ll look lovely. You said yourself that you needed a pretty girl in the group.’
‘Oh shut up, Merlin.’
After Arthur had left for his pre-training training session, Merlin decided that even if he wasn’t going to be part of the hunting party he could still help in a practical way. Or he knew someone who could.
...
Instead of pre-training, Arthur ended up running the disguise idea past Romford, half expecting it to be shot down and preferring that it happened in private and not when the other men were looking on.
Romford, however, wasn’t laughing when he heard the idea. They were still discussing it when the others joined them
‘Lure them out? It’s a sound tactic. Merlin thought of this?’
‘Yeah.
‘Handsome and clever,’ Romford said admiringly.
‘Spare me please. Sir Kay cornered me last night. If I have to hear one more thing about Merlin’s sterling qualities, I’m going to gag. How come no one mentions that he eats like a pig, dances like he has too many limbs and thinks his jokes are hilarious?’
‘His jokes are sort of funny,’ Caradoc pointed out.
But Montague seized on the other revelation.
‘He can’t dance?’
‘Dance? He’s hardly got the coordination to walk.’
‘Did you have to say that?’ Percival hissed.
‘What?’
‘That he can’t dance? Surely you know Montague is a dancing master? Now he’s going to offer to teach Merlin. Have his hands on him for hours at a time whilst they prance up and down.’
‘Oh, I never thought of that.’
Percival merely glowered at him, and Arthur wasn’t too happy with himself either.
Romford was continuing to detail the plan.
‘I know you all find it amusing, but we only need to pass from a distance.’
‘How about if we have a carriage so that our poor mounts don’t have to carry us lady-style?’
‘The point is to make sure the ‘ladies’ are seen. Tucking them away in the carriage won’t help.’
‘But we can’t ride side saddle. I’ve never understood how ladies could ride in that fashion without sliding off,’ Percival said.
‘Some use special saddles….’
‘Yes, and unless you never want to father children I wouldn’t recommend you use them,’ Arthur replied.
And then he caught sight of Morgana walking towards them, and frowned.
‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘Because if you’re here to harangue me like a common fishwife then I would prefer you kept it for later. Or actually? Never would be a good time for me.’
‘Don’t be childish, Arthur. Merlin mentioned to Gwen that you might need help dressing your knights. I bring you clothes.
Arthur noticed the couple of servants, arms laden with brightly coloured materials.
‘Oh right. Uh thank you.’
‘Just to be clear this is not an apology. I was definitely in the right to say all the things I said,’ Morgana informed him lifting her chin. ‘I just want to help.’
She appeared to be waiting for an answer, and looked curiously vulnerable.
‘Okay. I accept your not-an-apology in the spirit it was offered.’
For once he must have managed to say the right thing because her shoulders relaxed and her eyes softened.
‘So who are we dressing as women?’ she asked, eyeing the potential candidates with a predatory eye.
Arthur looked at the milling knights.
‘I don’t know. I’m not too proud to take advice,’ he said generously.
Although grateful for the help, more importantly he wanted to make peace with her. Morgana was never happier than when she was organising and ordering others around. Arthur was fairly sure he was back in her good books.
‘Hmmm. How many?’
‘Four or five? Including me.’
His eyes challenged her to say anything. But she merely nodded.
‘Good.’
She made her way through the knights, hand picking those she wanted.
By the time Merlin and Gwen joined them she had corralled Arthur and three others, and was currently forcing their limbs into dresses. It wasn’t going that well.
‘And we don’t really need dresses. A bright cloak and a veil for the face will surely be adequate? We can still wear leggings and chain mail under the cloaks. Show a flash of jewels around our necks, enough to tempt the robbers into making a move. We don’t need to fool them when they get closer because at that point we’ll just draw our swords and attack,’ Arthur was arguing.
Morgana was at least considering this.
‘Why did she choose me?’ Willard complained. ‘I don’t look anything like a woman.
‘I think it’s probably because you have such lovely hair,’ Merlin replied tactfully. ‘It’s long, and it’s a pretty colour.’
‘You think I have nice hair?’
‘Oh. Yes. Definitely.’
Willard dragged a hand self-consciously through long straw strands.
‘It was my mother. She would never let me cut it,’ he explained. ‘And somehow I can never bring myself to shear it off. She would be so disappointed. I know the others make fun of me but….’ He gave a shrug.
Merlin noticed that when Willard was being completely sincere the poetical flourishes disappeared from his speech.
‘I can understand that. Why upset them, when it takes such a small thing to keep them happy?’ he replied with a smile. ‘Here let me help you with that.’
Despite being absorbed in bickering with Morgana, Arthur couldn’t help keeping half an eye on Merlin. He could have sworn that he heard Merlin say Willard had pretty hair. Which was ludicrous because there was nothing special about the boy’s hair unless you happened to like long, sun-coloured hair that curled slightly and gave his face the aspect of an angel.
‘And we definitely don’t need to cover our faces in powder and paint,’ Arthur said, more vehemently than he intended.
‘But why not? I know how much you love to look gorgeous….’
‘I am gorgeous.’
‘Surely you know he’s lily. He doesn’t need gilding,’ Merlin called across.
‘I am not a lily,’ Arthur protested.
‘I’m trying to help.’
‘Well stop trying to help. You’re making it worse.’
‘Well if you want to end up with bright red lips and kohl eyes….’
This was met by stony silence. And then Arthur turned back to Morgana.
‘As Merlin said. I’m a lily, I don’t need gilding.’
By midday, clothes had been chosen and horses saddled. Morgana was demonstrating how to ride side saddle. Luckily, all their training had given most of the knights an excellent sense of balance, which stood them in good stead as they rode for the first time with their weight supported by a single stirrup and one leg swung over the central pommel.
’Stop twisting. Face the front. If you ride like that you’ll damage the horse’s back. No. Sit squarely. Watch Arthur. Sir Kay, I think it best if you play a maid servant and sit astride.’
All in all the party didn’t look too bad. Arthur, Willard, Kay and Montague were disguised by high necked travelling dresses, which they slipped their arms into but actually had no backs. Instead they were loosely tied around their bodies. Long cloaks draped over their shoulders and flowed out over their horses, effectively hiding their chain mail and incomplete dresses.
Bangles caught the sunlight and bright necklaces dangled and contrasted against their gowns. Willard’s hair was left loose and the others had light veils to cover their heads. At a distant it was good enough. Romford, Hector, Gawain and Caradoc, dressed in the velvets and silk of rich nobles, completed the party
Merlin was disappointed. It all looked utilitarian and practical and was hardly hilarious at all.
And amazingly it all went to plan.
After an hour of riding, they spotted a flash of colour in the trees. The ‘ladies’ lowered their heads and the men began to talk and laugh noisily, looking for all the world like proud, oblivious lordlings.
This lulled the watching bandits into of false sense of security, and eventually they made their move.
The knights pretended not to notice as they clumsily drew closer. They froze, as if in fear, when it was no longer possible to ignore the fact that they were surrounded. The band of robbers gained confidence, certain of easy pickings. Even as they approached they were dividing up the women, one claiming the pretty one, whilst another crudely explained what he was going to do to the hoity-toity one.
Willard actually beat Arthur when reaching for his sword. All his life he had been mocked for his sweet looks and blond locks, and being called pretty was the final insult. He was a knight of Camelot. He practised with weapons for hours every day. He would lay down his life if asked. He was one of the Prince’s elite and a warrior through and through.
Arthur, on the other hand, wasn’t too bothered by the ‘hoity-toity’ label. Merlin said worse to him every day. He was bothered, deeply bothered by their intentions, and was thankful it wasn’t actually women caught out here.
The bandits were quickly routed, over half of them were injured and he suspected at least two of them wouldn't recover. Strangely enough, it was the two who had been so casually vocal about raping women.
For their part, the knights were hardly out of breath. Arthur could feel himself swelling with pride as he looked at them, stripping off their dresses, their rich jackets and gewgaws, until they were down to chain mail’ leggings and drawn swords, which were expertly wiped down before being returned to their sheaths.
This is what they were underneath the fine clothes and disguises - consummate fighters. Tough. Brave. Loyal. His.
‘Good work. You did well.’
They responded by sitting a little straighter as they rode back in triumph.
Merlin must have been looking out for them because by the time Arthur reached the stable, there he was waiting, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet.
‘Well? Did it work? Did you find them?’
‘It worked like a dream,’ Gawain replied. ‘It was an excellent plan.’
Merlin laughed happily, but his eyes were apprehensive and still on Arthur, awaiting his response. Which mollified Arthur slightly.
He had been feeling irritated at Gawain for answering when Merlin was obviously talking to Arthur. Gawain was one of his best friends, and Arthur loved him, he really did. But not when he deliberately attempted to steal Merlin’s attention away. It was impolite, bordering on rude. Arthur would never try to steal Gawain’s manservant’s attention. True, he was about sixty-years old, but that wasn’t the point.
‘It went well,’ he said, and was gratified to see the apprehension flee and Merlin’s face light up with sheer pleasure.
‘Really?’ he asked.
Arthur handed him the reins and slid from his steed. He used his teeth to pull at the first leather gauntlet, loosening it enough so that he could wriggle his hand out and quickly strip the other hand bare
Merlin was bouncing so hard that Arthur had an urge to touch him, to feel that energy thrumming under the palm of his hand.
‘Really,’ he replied.
He could feel the joy in Merlin spilling over and suspected that if he had been anyone else, then Merlin would be flinging arms around him and hugging him in exultation.
Because there was always something so raw about Merlin, as though he lived outside his skin. Whatever emotion caught at him, immediately rippled across his surface, revealed by expression or words or actions. It’s why he was such a rubbish liar. Even when his mouth spouted denials, his whole body screamed the truth.
It was fascinating to Arthur, who was taught to hide emotions, reveal nothing, smile when he’s furious, act serene when he wants to fall to pieces. He sometimes felt that the mismatch between what he felt on the inside and what he displayed on the outside unbalanced him to an unhealthy degree, but he accepted it as a necessary skill for a future king.
Except with Merlin it was different. It’s not that he ripped away the masks Arthur wore. It’s more like he didn’t even see the masks. The prince? The invulnerable leader? The obedient son? His sharp eyes pierced straight through to the prat, the bully, the doubter.
It used to make him feel vulnerable and defensive, knowing that this man saw through him so completely. Nowadays, it was more like a little bit of sanity, the dislocation between what he felt and what he showed to the world was stripped away, the tension between inside and outside uncoiled, and for a while he found balance again.
And occasionally Merlin would look at Arthur as if seeing something beyond the prat and the bully. He had no idea what it was, but when Merlin looked at him as though he had some rare magical qualities, he thought maybe he would have the strength to build the Camelot he dreamed of, because when Merlin gazed at him in honest wonder he felt like he could accomplish anything.
‘And you’re okay?’ Merlin’s eyes were raking over Arthur looking for signs injury.
And Arthur couldn’t help himself. He gave in to his own craving, reaching out he rested one hand on Merlin’s shoulder. He could feel the coarseness of the shirt, the underlying warmth of skin, and there it was… the shuddering tension.
It was as if his touch triggered its release. It burst against him like a shock of static, shimmering through sinew and bone. It was powerful and raw, and had him blinking and awed.
Merlin was looking back at him as wide-eyed as Arthur felt.
Arthur could hear Bedevere muttering something about a falcon, and the moment between them broke as Caradoc stepped forward, taking the reins from Merlin’s hand and passing the horse to a stable boy.
‘You should have been there, Merlin!’ His voice boomed, and unravelled whatever spell hung between master and servant. Arthur’s hand dropped as Caradoc pulled Merlin into a bear hug.
‘It worked wonderfully,’ he proclaimed with a laugh.
The others began to push forward to spin the simple expedition into a tale of derring-do. Merlin glanced towards Arthur with an unreadable look but allowed himself to be dragged away.
Caradoc shivered as he felt a death glare hit him between the shoulders and wondered if he could plead sickness to avoid morning practice, because merely limping from the session now seemed like a misplaced hope.
By the time Arthur walked back to his room, he had convinced himself that the moment had never happened. And if it had, it meant nothing because he would never fall for a servant again. Especially not one that kept secrets from him. Not that Merlin could even keep secrets, always doing stupid things that screamed of sorcery.
It was best to just ignore him. Arthur was either going to lose him to one of his knights or would have to make him leave to save him from the executioners block. Just as well he thought all this through before he got too attached to the idiot.
So with that all cleared up he donned a cheerful face and went to report his success to the King.
He just wished he wasn’t feeling that crazy imbalance again. It was making him dizzy and nauseous.
Part 6