Scarborough Fair - Part 1
Title: Scarborough Fair
Author: gwylliondream
Artist: rishimakapur - Art Masterpost
Genre: Canon era
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 25,000
Warnings: None
Summary: When Gwen is banished from Camelot for her indiscretion with Lancelot, Merlin misses the friendship he shared with her and Arthur. Arthur’s behaviour has taken a turn for the worse with Gwen gone-he sends Merlin to the stocks and overworks the knights whenever he gets the chance. Merlin works hard to convince Arthur to reunite with Gwen. He travels to Scarborough to give Gwen the news that Arthur will forgive her and take her as his queen, but only if she can prove her worthiness by completing a series of seemingly impossible tasks. Merlin uses his forbidden magic to help Gwen perform the tasks… the tasks that were meant to be completed by Gwen alone.
Author’s notes: Scarborough Fair was written for the After Camlann Big Bang and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt. Thanks to my talented artist rishimakapur, my cheerleader gilli_ann, my proofreader gibbous_moon, and my wonderful beta lawgoddess. Thanks to the fest mods for keeping the Merlin fandom alive!
Artist's notes: This is the first time I take part in writer/artist collaboration project, it really means a lot to me. I would like to thank organizers for doing such a great job and holding this fest, give hugs to my writer gwylliondream for writing such a wonderful story that inspired me greatly and to my brilliant art beta gilli_ann who's smart comments helped me to improve my art a lot. Thank you everybody for reading, looking and commenting! :)
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Read on AO3
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.
Merlin took the stairs two at a time until he arrived at Arthur’s door. The juice from the rotting tomatoes seeped under the laces of his tunic and dripped down his chest. The stickiness made him itch. After spending the morning in the stocks, he reeked of garbage, but instead of going directly to Gaius’s when the guards released him, he had been summoned to meet with Arthur in his chambers.
He was already in enough trouble with Arthur, so no good would come of disobeying his orders. Besides, Merlin wanted Arthur to smell the stench of the rotten fruit. He wanted Arthur to see the mess that was made of his loyal manservant’s clothing. It was enough to make any normal person feel guilty-maybe the sight of Merlin would make Arthur think twice about his punishment next time.
The children of the lower town were not to be blamed for their good aim, nor were the midsummer days that turned ripe fruit to mush in such a short time. The blame for Merlin’s condition lay squarely on the dollopheaded prat who had ordered Merlin to the stocks.
Bursting through the chamber doors, Merlin found Arthur where he had last left him, seated at the long table, a quill in his hand.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, lifting his quill from the parchment. “Have you no sense of propriety? Why must you feel that you can barge into your king’s chambers without as much as a knock?”
Merlin dismissed Arthur’s question with a shake of his head. After all these years, Merlin should have known that Arthur would be more concerned with protocol than feeling any sort of remorse over the way he treated his manservant. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.
Arthur’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. “What’s this mess?” Arthur asked, his eyes travelling up and down the sorry sight. “You look like you fell down the garbage chute.”
“The children in the courtyard-you have no idea how much spoiled fruit they had on supply,” Merlin said, raising his hands in frustration. The damp sleeves of his tunic, dark with juice, clung to his arms. “It’s been the warmest summer anyone in Camelot can remember. It doesn’t take long for the fruit to spoil after it has been cut. The children came armed with buckets of tomatoes, squash, even an eggplant.”
Arthur tilted his chin upward. “Perhaps if you mind your tongue from now on, you can avoid such punishment in the future,” he said.
“The punishment was completely unfair,” Merlin said, planting his hands on his hips. “You can’t send me to the stocks every time I voice my concern for your well-being. You wouldn’t treat any other servant that way.”
Of course, Merlin had only spoken out of turn because he was concerned for his king. Lately, Arthur had been working on the training field from morning until night. Each of the knights had been to Gaius’s workshop this week, seeking treatment for bruised ribs and deep gouges made by an errant mace or wild sword. Just yesterday, after a particularly gruelling workout, Percival had collapsed in the stifling summer heat. It took a half-dozen men to carry him to Gaius.
After some comfrey and cold compresses, Percival stood upright again. But Gaius had cautioned him that any more heavy training when the sun was at its highest of the day would likely send him back to Gaius’s sickbed… or worse.
“And what is that smell?” Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin’s scowl.
Merlin ran his fingers through his sticky hair. He stopped to pick at the syrupy mess that dripped down his forehead. It had hardened into a firm gel. “I think it’s from the mouldy strawberries,” Merlin said, considering his stained fingers.
“Well, see to it that you get cleaned up. Lord Simeon will be arriving from Scarborough this afternoon and you’ll be expected to attend me,” Arthur said, dipping his quill into the inkpot. “And not a word about our discussion that sent you to the stocks this morning.”
“I only suggested that you missed Gwen,” Merlin said, his voice more whiney than he intended.
“Merlin,” Arthur warned, pointing his quill at Merlin like a spear.
“There was no need for you to send me to the stocks. I only pointed out that you haven’t been yourself in the weeks since you exiled her,” Merlin stammered, searching for the words to explain Arthur’s behaviour. “You’re overworking your men. Last night, you sent back your dinner to the cook when she made your favourite meal. With Gwen gone, there’s no one who can mend armour nearly as well-”
“Get out,” Arthur said, pushing his chair back from the table.
“She was your friend,” Merlin said, backing toward the door. “And my friend, too. I won’t stop missing her. You can’t make me.” He folded his arms across his chest in defiance.
“Merlin, unless you want to find yourself in the stocks again today…” Arthur said with a raised eyebrow.
“Not again,” Merlin said, his shoulders dropping. “You wouldn’t.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t,” Arthur said, standing. “Lord Simeon will be arriving at any moment and I need you to accompany me to greet him.”
“But I promised Gaius that I’d help him. Your men have used up so many of his supplies with all their injuries of late. He needs me to gather more herbs-parsley, sage, rosemary… I’d collect some thyme if you gave me time,” Merlin said with a grin. “Get it? Thyme? If you gave me enough-”
“Merlin,” Arthur shouted. He shook his head with exasperation. “I’ll grant Gaius your service this afternoon, but I’ll expect you to serve me in the banquet hall tonight.”
“Thank you, Sire. I’m sure Gaius will be grateful for my assistance,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes, “unlike a certain king I know.”
“Don’t be late for the feast. And perhaps you should wash the slime out of your hair,” Arthur said, shooing Merlin with a flick of his hand. “You smell like wilderen dung.”
“I’m not that bad,” Merlin said. “But if I wash my clothes after I help Gaius, it will take hours before they dry. I should be excused from serving you tonight. You’d hardly want your manservant trudging through the great hall in sopping wet clothes with Lord Simeon making a visit.”
“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that, Merlin,” Arthur said, his eyes roving over Merlin’s soiled tunic and breeches. “You’re expected to wear the official ceremonial robes of the servants of Camelot tonight.”
“But Arthur,” Merlin said, slinking toward the door. There was nothing Merlin hated more than the foolish outfit he was made to wear when important dignitaries came to Camelot.
“No excuses,” Arthur said. “I’ll expect you later tonight. Go.”
Before Merlin closed the door behind him, he heard Arthur shout “And don’t forget the hat.”
~
Merlin shuffled down the steps to the corridor that led to Gaius’s workshop.
He missed Gwen. As each day passed since her exile, it became harder to remember the times she had made Merlin smile. He was sure she’d be making fun of his feathered hat at the banquet tonight, if only she were there to see it.
Why couldn’t Arthur understand that he was wrong to exile her? This was her home. Since Morgana left to care for her ailing sister, the three of them had been so happy together.
In his capacity as Arthur’s manservant, Merlin had been allowed to accompany Arthur when he and Gwen picnicked in a grassy glade. Of course Merlin carried their lunch in his horse’s saddlebags and a soft blanket for Arthur and Gwen to sit upon. He poured the sweet wine and sliced the cheese for his friends.
Sometimes Gwen joined Merlin and Arthur on a hunt-the only girl to ever do so. In the field, Merlin was the first to congratulate Gwen on a kill. She managed to use a crossbow, despite her small delicate fingers. Merlin usually only managed to scare the game away.
Gwen’s father had made sure that she was skilled not only in hunting, but in his trade, too. Gwen could forge a blade with the best smiths and her intricately carved handles were sought by not only Camelot’s finest knights, but from Camelot’s allies in the villages beyond. Merlin didn’t dare handle the swords. He often found himself flat on his back, staring at the point of Arthur’s practice sword when they roughhoused. Gwen’s laughter would draw Arthur’s attention, so Merlin could get up and brush the grass from his backside. Although he’d be embarrassed, he was grateful that Gwen never held his awkwardness against him.
All three friends would laugh together as they dipped their toes into a cool stream at the height of the day. The summer stretched on forever, it seemed.
When Arthur announced that he would marry Gwen, Merlin first felt a pang of jealousy. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he made his excuse to Gaius, explaining that they were tears of joy instead of sorrow. But inside his heart, Merlin feared that he would no longer be as welcome at Arthur’s side as he had been in the past.
Although he tried not to think about it, ever since Merlin arrived in Camelot and suffered the misfortune to be named Prince Arthur’s manservant, he couldn’t take his eyes off the prince. The simple brush of his fingers against Arthur’s neck while he dressed him made Merlin’s spine tingle for hours afterwards.
Arthur was a prat, and a royal one at that, but Merlin couldn’t entirely tamp down the feelings that plumped his cock, forcing him take himself in hand every night that he spent alone in his tiny bed. The quarters he shared in Gaius’s workshop were as lonely as they were depressing. Fantasizing about the prince always made sleep come quickly.
In the years that passed in Arthur’s service, Merlin often wished things had been different between him and Arthur-that they might be more to each other than a servant and master. But he managed to quell the heat that curled through his belly long enough to greet each dawn with good cheer, happily rousing Arthur from his sleep.
Merlin hoped that he might outgrow his feelings. He dreamed that he would to fall in love one day with a maiden from the village or a handsome stable-boy that would make him forget his feelings for Arthur.
But he never did.
The day Arthur announced that he would marry Gwen, Merlin swallowed a sob and waited until Arthur left his chambers for the training field. He hurried through his morning chores with the help of his magic before he borrowed a horse from the stables.
He rode into the forest and found his favourite place, a cool patch of grass that grew beneath an oak tree on the bank of a sparkling brook. Alone in the woods, he shed his tears.
He should have known that it was inevitable that Arthur would take a bride. He was a noble king. He couldn’t be expected to live his life alone with only his gangly servant by his side.
Merlin let the sounds of the forest soothe him. The gentle trickling of the brook comforted him. When he finished weeping, he tried to reflect on the good things that might come of a marriage between Arthur and Gwen.
For one thing, Gwen was fond of Merlin. And it seemed unlikely that she would restrict the time that Arthur spent with him. Merlin still needed to protect Arthur from those who would do him harm. As the dragon prophesied, Arthur would become a great king with Merlin’s help. Surely that bond would forever join the two men, whether Arthur took a wife or not.
When Merlin’s tears had finally dried, he was grateful that Arthur chose Gwen as his wife, instead of one of the many maidens that Uther had paraded before Arthur in the years before his death. Gwen was their friend. She was Merlin’s friend, and she would likely remain so for all of their days.
As the summer lingered, the trio’s happy times continued, just as Merlin had hoped they would. He and Arthur were as inseparable as ever and their devoted Gwen seemed destined to be a permanent part of their friendship in the many years that were surely to come. Merlin’s fears of being separated from Arthur had been unfounded.
Barely a month of summer had passed when Lancelot rode back into Camelot.
Merlin wasn’t sure what was said or done. The only thing he knew for certain was that one week after his arrival, Lancelot rode out from Camelot vowing to never return to the kingdom again.
Gwen left soon afterwards, exiled from the only home she knew.
Merlin’s heart broke when he remembered how Gwen had loaded all of her belongings into the cart without any help from her brother or any of the other maidservants who Merlin knew to be her friends.
Merlin’s loyalty to Arthur nearly tore him apart that day. He couldn’t very well go after Gwen to try to convince her to stay. Although she had been Merlin’s friend since he first arrived in Camelot, he couldn’t violate the king’s decree to banish her. Arthur would have his head.
Instead, Merlin had hidden in plain sight outside the block of cottages that Gwen had called her home for years. Merlin watched, standing like a stone in a meadow, unmoving, emotionless-too stunned by the reality of Gwen’s cart, the wheels squeaking with every turn as Gwen pushed it through the village gates. Someday, Merlin assured himself, he would make things right between them again. Merlin willed the creaking noise to fade beyond earshot, as if the silence would help him forget the tragedy of his lost friendship.
Although he later pleaded with Arthur on Gwen’s behalf, Arthur refused to listen to him then, just as he did on this morning. Still, Merlin resolved to convince Arthur to reconcile with Gwen and let her return to her home. He took every chance he got to plead Gwen’s case, despite the discomfort of spending the day in the stocks.
Merlin rubbed the inside of each of his wrists where the skin had been rubbed raw. It was a small price to pay if he could bring Arthur closer to considering Gwen’s return.
~
Gaius stopped pouring the liquid into the beaker when Merlin entered the physician’s workshop. The scent of fresh herbs barely overpowered the stench of Merlin’s soiled clothing.
“Rough day?” he asked, looking up from the vials that lined his workbench.
Merlin leaned his back against the door and caught his breath. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said.
“The king is keeping you busy these days,” Gaius said. “I almost thought he’d relieve you of some of your more menial duties, now that he has so many other servants available to him since he’s been crowned.”
Merlin stumbled toward the washbasin and checked to see that there was water in the pitcher. “He’s awful to me,” he said, pouring water into the basin. “I think he keeps me on just to torture me.”
“I saw you in the stocks this morning,” Gaius said, pausing from his work. “I didn’t have the heart to stick around to watch the worst of it.”
Merlin slipped off his neckerchief and dipped it into the basin. He wrung out the water and used the cloth to dab at the stickiness on his forehead.
“You’ll never get clean using only the pitcher,” Gaius said. “I had some water drawn for you.”
“Thank you, Gaius,” Merlin said gratefully throwing down his neckerchief. “But I promised that I’d help you with herbs today.”
“I’ve already finished picking them,” Gaius said. “They just need to be hung to dry.” He pulled the wooden tub from beneath the workbench and poured a waiting bucket of water into it. Only then did Merlin notice three more buckets of water that were perched on Gaius’s table among the baskets of herbs.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Merlin said gratefully. He strode to the tub and tested the tepid water with a pair of fingers.
“Whatever did you do to upset the king this time?” Gaius asked.
Merlin stripped off his tunic, the linen catching his ears as he pulled it over his head. He bunched it into a ball, taking care not let any rancid juice drip onto Gaius’s floor.
“I suggested that he might forgive Gwen and allow her back in Camelot,” Merlin said. “It would do wonders for the people’s spirits, and it might lift Arthur’s mood as well.”
“I should have known,” Gaius sighed. “You can’t be blamed for trying.”
“I wish he would take her back so things could go back to normal,” Merlin said, pouring another bucket of water into the tub.
“She put Arthur in a difficult position,” Gaius said with a raised eyebrow.
“Even if I could convince him to accept Gwen back in Camelot again, no one knows where to find her,” Merlin said. “I should have stopped her before she left. I hate myself for simply standing there.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gaius said. “There wasn’t anything you could do to help her, short of committing treason.”
Merlin kicked off his boots, letting them land quietly beside the tub half-filled with water. “I just watched her walk away from Camelot. What kind of friend does that?” Merlin asked, shaking his head. He reached behind his neck and scratched at the sticky clumps of hair along his nape. “I’ll never forget that day. I was numb. I couldn’t believe it was happening-that Gwen was truly leaving. I tried to intervene with Arthur later, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You can’t blame Arthur for wanting her gone,” Gaius said. “Love makes people vulnerable. He was hurt when it seemed that Gwen chose Lancelot over him.”
“No one has seen Lancelot either.” Merlin said. He returned to the washstand and grabbed a lump of soap. “I suppose I’ve lost his friendship as well.”
“From what I’ve heard, he’d be wise to never set foot in Camelot again,” Gaius said.
“Probably. But that doesn’t make me miss him any less,” Merlin said, stripping off his woollen socks. He tossed them across the room. They landed on the stone floor, just short of Gaius’s laundry basket.
“He was your friend, as well,” Gaius acknowledged.
“Although it was wrong of him to come between Arthur and Gwen,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Arthur is king. What was Lancelot thinking?”
“Every man needs someone to love, someone to make him feel that life is worth living. He needs to feel that he is more than just himself alone in the world,” Gaius said thoughtfully. “Lancelot is no different.”
“And what about Arthur?” Merlin asked when Gaius turned around to give Merlin some privacy. “Doesn’t he need someone too?”
Merlin unhitched his belt and slipped out of his breeches. Naked, he poured another bucket of water into the tub, taking care not to spill the precious drops onto the floor.
Across the room, Gaius picked Merlin’s socks off the floor. “Do you think we can find another maiden to marry him?” he asked.
Merlin raised his eyebrows as he stepped into the tub. “If only it were that simple,” he said. “You’ve seen how he treated every princess that Uther called to court when he was alive. He’s never shown an interest in any of them.”
“No, Gwen was the only woman he’s ever paid any attention,” Gaius said.
“I wish there was a chance that he might welcome her back to the kingdom,” Merlin said, kneeling in the water, raising its level only a mere inch.
“Even if Arthur was to change his mind, you say no one knows where Gwen travelled when she left Camelot,” Gaius said.
“No, but if Arthur were to welcome her return, I’d stop at nothing to find her,” Merlin said, reaching for another full bucket of water to add to his bath. “She’s Arthur’s only hope for happiness and the kingdom’s only hope for a return to the way things were before.”
“Well, she couldn’t have gone too far,” Gaius said. “I’ll leave you alone to wash up.” Gaius hoisted the laundry basket into his arms. “Toss me your breeches and I’ll take our clothes to the laundry.”
Merlin leaned over the side of the tub for his breeches and added them to Gaius’s basket.
When the door closed behind Gaius, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the water warmed. He folded his slender body into the soothing bath, his long legs cramping until he sorted them out so they were comfortable. Although the day was oppressively hot, Merlin knew it would take a lot of scrubbing to loosen the grime from his skin. He turned the soap between his fingers, making a foamy lather.
Scooping up a handful of water, he let it cascade over his head from his palm. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong, he thought, as the water trickled into his eyes. Perhaps if he found Gwen first, then he could convince Arthur to allow her to return to Camelot, rather than the other way around.
Gwen had only been gone a few weeks. Surely if he asked the townspeople, someone might know where Merlin could look for her.
Merlin dragged the lump of soap across his chest, working the bubbles through his chest hair, sticky with fruit juice.
He could start looking for Gwen as soon as tomorrow, after he finished his duties for Arthur. If he used his magic to help complete his chores, he could have half the morning free, provided that he stayed out of the stocks.
But first he had to get tonight’s feast out of the way.
~
“And if everyone pulls together, Scarborough Fair will be the best venue for trade in all the five kingdoms,” Lord Simeon finished his speech.
A smattering of applause began in one corner of the banquet hall and travelled through the crowd, escalating in volume until it ended with Arthur himself. He clapped his hands together and stood at Lord Simeon’s side.
After the applause died, Arthur raised his goblet. “Let the merchants of Camelot fulfil Lord Simeon’s vision,” Arthur said. He laid a hand on Lord Simeon’s shoulder. “In two weeks’ time, our vendors and craftsmen will travel to Scarborough to sell their wares and trade their goods with others from the five kingdoms. If we work together to make this event a success, we will secure our friendship and allegiances with the people of the surrounding realms. Who knows? Maybe we can even make it an annual affair.”
The crowd erupted into more cheers.
Merlin huffed out a breath, pushing the ticklish feather off his face. He hated his serving hat with passion. The pitcher of wine weighed heavily in his hands. In the kitchen doorway, the din of the banquet hall prevented him from overhearing the servants’ whispers about who hoped to display their skills in Scarborough, the gossip from the cook’s assistants, and the speculation about the king’s prolonged bachelorhood.
Merlin stole a lingonberry tart off one of the trays as a serving girl walked by. He quickly gobbled it down and resumed his observation of the feast. Merlin’s foremost duty for the evening was to watch Arthur’s cup to see when it emptied. When it did, he swiftly moved to the king’s side to fill his goblet, careful to not spill anything on Arthur or his esteemed guests.
“You’ve cleaned up nicely,” Arthur said, his eyes roving over Merlin’s official ceremonial garb, “and you smell a bit better too.”
Merlin couldn’t help but be pleased that Arthur noticed that he smelled better. “As you commanded, Sire,” Merlin said with a bow.
With Arthur’s cup filled, Merlin moved past the dais and found Gaius at one of the long tables laden with roast quail, freshly sliced tomatoes, and platters of cheese.
“What’s so special about this Lord Simeon, anyway?” Merlin asked, nudging Gaius aside so he could sit on the bench beside him.
Gaius’s eyes drifted to the feathers that decorated Merlin’s hat.
“This grand fair that Lord Simeon has planned will be a great opportunity for the people of Camelot. Surely many traders and craftsmen will want to represent our kingdom there,” Gaius said. “It’s good for business.”
“Arthur seems keen for people to go,” Merlin said, setting down his wine pitcher and spearing a tomato slice with Gaius’s fork.
“We’ve got a supply of tinctures we could take to trade,” Gaius said. “Think of the time it will save the people of every realm if they are able to acquire our goods in Scarborough, where other vendors have gathered with us.”
“No more traveling to Camelot in the cold of winter when they need a remedy,” Merlin said, nibbling on a piece of cheese. “And we could stockpile a store of linen from Nemeth for bandages and slings without having to plead with Camelot’s villagers for rags when we run out.”
A serving girl brought a tray of lingonberry tarts to Gaius’s table. Merlin dove in.
“I’m glad you like the idea,” Gaius said. “Scarborough is a day’s ride from here for me. You’re younger and faster. I hope that you’ll go to make our trade with the merchants from the other realms. And lay off those lingonberries. You know they don’t agree with you.”
Merlin’s mouth fell open. “Oh, no… I can’t possibly go, Gaius,” Merlin said, finishing his tart. “I need to stay here to convince Arthur to take Gwen back. I planned to look for her tomorrow, but in the meantime I need to be here so I can keep working on Arthur.”
“Merlin, I’m too old to ride that far,” Gaius said. “You need to do something besides spending your days annoying Arthur. I thought I was doing you both a favour by getting you out of Arthur’s hair.”
“I can’t leave here and have Arthur work the knights half to death,” Merlin said. “Please Gaius, you can’t make me go.”
“Ah, well, I suppose I can seek out one of the other vendors to take our goods,” Gaius said, reaching for his spoon. “Really, Merlin, your attitude is going to land you in the stocks again.”
“Speaking of the stocks, Arthur has drained his cup again,” Merlin said, shoving his way off the bench and hoisting the pitcher.
“I’ll go with you so I can say goodnight to the king,” Gaius said, rubbing his belly. “It’s time I turned in for the night. Too much feasting gives me indigestion.”
“Come along then,” Merlin said.
Merlin led the way, bumping elbows with the hordes of people who filled Camelot’s great hall.
When he and Gaius reached the king’s table, Lord Simeon had handed a sheathed dagger to Arthur. The king drew the dagger from its scabbard and admired the blade.
Taking care to fill Arthur’s goblet, Merlin moved to Lord Simeon’s side.
“It’s fine work,” Arthur said, sheathing the dagger again. “And the handle, I’ve never seen work as intricate as this from the smiths of Scarborough.”
Arthur politely handed the dagger to Gaius so he could inspect the craftsmanship.
“It is fine, indeed,” Gaius said, examining the weapon.
Lord Simeon raised his empty goblet to get Merlin’s attention. “What’s more,” Lord Simeon said, “it was crafted by a seamstress.”
Gaius nodded to Lord Simeon.
“A seamstress produced such work?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not a smith or an armourer?”
Merlin’s eyes went to the dagger as he positioned his pitcher to pour. “We had a woman in Camelot who could produce work as fine,” he said. He couldn’t resist needling Arthur over Gwen.
“Merlin,” Gaius said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you take care of Lord Simeon and then go see if any of the other nobles need their goblets filled.”
Lord Simeon held his goblet steady for Merlin to fill. Merlin poured wine from his pitcher into the cup. Lord Simeon said, “It was crafted by a woman who recently settled in our kingdom. She’s highly skilled at forging. I believe she once dwelled in Camelot. She goes by the name of Gwen.”
Merlin caught the pitcher before it fell to the table, but not before Lord Simeon’s goblet overflowed onto the noble’s sleeve.
“Our Gwen is in Scarborough?” Merlin asked.
Lord Simeon reeled back from the table. He shook his hand like a cat shaking milk from its paw, scattering drops of wine.
Gaius set the blade on the table and found a cloth napkin to dry Lord Simeon’s sleeve with. “What a surprise,” he said.
Arthur’s eyes flared. “Well, I’m glad she found a place to dwell where her services are welcome,” Arthur said.
“Oh, they are more than welcome,” Lord Simeon said. “In just a few short weeks, she has made herself indispensable.”
Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s and he grinned smugly.
“Why, she’s already taken over the maintenance of the armoury,” Lord Simeon continued. “She’s helping to organize the stalls for the upcoming fair.”
“Enough about Gwen,” Arthur said. “Let’s finish talking about what sort of tradesmen from Camelot would have the most impact on the fair’s success.”
Lord Simeon pulled his chair up to the table again. “Certain goods are more necessary than others, of course,” he said.
“What about medical supplies?” Merlin asked, drying the side of the pitcher with a sleeve of his ceremonial robes. “Gaius plans to send me to Scarborough with our finest collection of tinctures. I hope I have success trading them there.”
Merlin tried to ignore Gaius’s groan as he left the high table.
~
Author: gwylliondream
Artist: rishimakapur - Art Masterpost
Genre: Canon era
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 25,000
Warnings: None
Summary: When Gwen is banished from Camelot for her indiscretion with Lancelot, Merlin misses the friendship he shared with her and Arthur. Arthur’s behaviour has taken a turn for the worse with Gwen gone-he sends Merlin to the stocks and overworks the knights whenever he gets the chance. Merlin works hard to convince Arthur to reunite with Gwen. He travels to Scarborough to give Gwen the news that Arthur will forgive her and take her as his queen, but only if she can prove her worthiness by completing a series of seemingly impossible tasks. Merlin uses his forbidden magic to help Gwen perform the tasks… the tasks that were meant to be completed by Gwen alone.
Author’s notes: Scarborough Fair was written for the After Camlann Big Bang and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt. Thanks to my talented artist rishimakapur, my cheerleader gilli_ann, my proofreader gibbous_moon, and my wonderful beta lawgoddess. Thanks to the fest mods for keeping the Merlin fandom alive!
Artist's notes: This is the first time I take part in writer/artist collaboration project, it really means a lot to me. I would like to thank organizers for doing such a great job and holding this fest, give hugs to my writer gwylliondream for writing such a wonderful story that inspired me greatly and to my brilliant art beta gilli_ann who's smart comments helped me to improve my art a lot. Thank you everybody for reading, looking and commenting! :)
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
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Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine.
Merlin took the stairs two at a time until he arrived at Arthur’s door. The juice from the rotting tomatoes seeped under the laces of his tunic and dripped down his chest. The stickiness made him itch. After spending the morning in the stocks, he reeked of garbage, but instead of going directly to Gaius’s when the guards released him, he had been summoned to meet with Arthur in his chambers.
He was already in enough trouble with Arthur, so no good would come of disobeying his orders. Besides, Merlin wanted Arthur to smell the stench of the rotten fruit. He wanted Arthur to see the mess that was made of his loyal manservant’s clothing. It was enough to make any normal person feel guilty-maybe the sight of Merlin would make Arthur think twice about his punishment next time.
The children of the lower town were not to be blamed for their good aim, nor were the midsummer days that turned ripe fruit to mush in such a short time. The blame for Merlin’s condition lay squarely on the dollopheaded prat who had ordered Merlin to the stocks.
Bursting through the chamber doors, Merlin found Arthur where he had last left him, seated at the long table, a quill in his hand.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, lifting his quill from the parchment. “Have you no sense of propriety? Why must you feel that you can barge into your king’s chambers without as much as a knock?”
Merlin dismissed Arthur’s question with a shake of his head. After all these years, Merlin should have known that Arthur would be more concerned with protocol than feeling any sort of remorse over the way he treated his manservant. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.
Arthur’s nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. “What’s this mess?” Arthur asked, his eyes travelling up and down the sorry sight. “You look like you fell down the garbage chute.”
“The children in the courtyard-you have no idea how much spoiled fruit they had on supply,” Merlin said, raising his hands in frustration. The damp sleeves of his tunic, dark with juice, clung to his arms. “It’s been the warmest summer anyone in Camelot can remember. It doesn’t take long for the fruit to spoil after it has been cut. The children came armed with buckets of tomatoes, squash, even an eggplant.”
Arthur tilted his chin upward. “Perhaps if you mind your tongue from now on, you can avoid such punishment in the future,” he said.
“The punishment was completely unfair,” Merlin said, planting his hands on his hips. “You can’t send me to the stocks every time I voice my concern for your well-being. You wouldn’t treat any other servant that way.”
Of course, Merlin had only spoken out of turn because he was concerned for his king. Lately, Arthur had been working on the training field from morning until night. Each of the knights had been to Gaius’s workshop this week, seeking treatment for bruised ribs and deep gouges made by an errant mace or wild sword. Just yesterday, after a particularly gruelling workout, Percival had collapsed in the stifling summer heat. It took a half-dozen men to carry him to Gaius.
After some comfrey and cold compresses, Percival stood upright again. But Gaius had cautioned him that any more heavy training when the sun was at its highest of the day would likely send him back to Gaius’s sickbed… or worse.
“And what is that smell?” Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin’s scowl.
Merlin ran his fingers through his sticky hair. He stopped to pick at the syrupy mess that dripped down his forehead. It had hardened into a firm gel. “I think it’s from the mouldy strawberries,” Merlin said, considering his stained fingers.
“Well, see to it that you get cleaned up. Lord Simeon will be arriving from Scarborough this afternoon and you’ll be expected to attend me,” Arthur said, dipping his quill into the inkpot. “And not a word about our discussion that sent you to the stocks this morning.”
“I only suggested that you missed Gwen,” Merlin said, his voice more whiney than he intended.
“Merlin,” Arthur warned, pointing his quill at Merlin like a spear.
“There was no need for you to send me to the stocks. I only pointed out that you haven’t been yourself in the weeks since you exiled her,” Merlin stammered, searching for the words to explain Arthur’s behaviour. “You’re overworking your men. Last night, you sent back your dinner to the cook when she made your favourite meal. With Gwen gone, there’s no one who can mend armour nearly as well-”
“Get out,” Arthur said, pushing his chair back from the table.
“She was your friend,” Merlin said, backing toward the door. “And my friend, too. I won’t stop missing her. You can’t make me.” He folded his arms across his chest in defiance.
“Merlin, unless you want to find yourself in the stocks again today…” Arthur said with a raised eyebrow.
“Not again,” Merlin said, his shoulders dropping. “You wouldn’t.”
“That’s right, I wouldn’t,” Arthur said, standing. “Lord Simeon will be arriving at any moment and I need you to accompany me to greet him.”
“But I promised Gaius that I’d help him. Your men have used up so many of his supplies with all their injuries of late. He needs me to gather more herbs-parsley, sage, rosemary… I’d collect some thyme if you gave me time,” Merlin said with a grin. “Get it? Thyme? If you gave me enough-”
“Merlin,” Arthur shouted. He shook his head with exasperation. “I’ll grant Gaius your service this afternoon, but I’ll expect you to serve me in the banquet hall tonight.”
“Thank you, Sire. I’m sure Gaius will be grateful for my assistance,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes, “unlike a certain king I know.”
“Don’t be late for the feast. And perhaps you should wash the slime out of your hair,” Arthur said, shooing Merlin with a flick of his hand. “You smell like wilderen dung.”
“I’m not that bad,” Merlin said. “But if I wash my clothes after I help Gaius, it will take hours before they dry. I should be excused from serving you tonight. You’d hardly want your manservant trudging through the great hall in sopping wet clothes with Lord Simeon making a visit.”
“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that, Merlin,” Arthur said, his eyes roving over Merlin’s soiled tunic and breeches. “You’re expected to wear the official ceremonial robes of the servants of Camelot tonight.”
“But Arthur,” Merlin said, slinking toward the door. There was nothing Merlin hated more than the foolish outfit he was made to wear when important dignitaries came to Camelot.
“No excuses,” Arthur said. “I’ll expect you later tonight. Go.”
Before Merlin closed the door behind him, he heard Arthur shout “And don’t forget the hat.”
~
Merlin shuffled down the steps to the corridor that led to Gaius’s workshop.
He missed Gwen. As each day passed since her exile, it became harder to remember the times she had made Merlin smile. He was sure she’d be making fun of his feathered hat at the banquet tonight, if only she were there to see it.
Why couldn’t Arthur understand that he was wrong to exile her? This was her home. Since Morgana left to care for her ailing sister, the three of them had been so happy together.
In his capacity as Arthur’s manservant, Merlin had been allowed to accompany Arthur when he and Gwen picnicked in a grassy glade. Of course Merlin carried their lunch in his horse’s saddlebags and a soft blanket for Arthur and Gwen to sit upon. He poured the sweet wine and sliced the cheese for his friends.
Sometimes Gwen joined Merlin and Arthur on a hunt-the only girl to ever do so. In the field, Merlin was the first to congratulate Gwen on a kill. She managed to use a crossbow, despite her small delicate fingers. Merlin usually only managed to scare the game away.
Gwen’s father had made sure that she was skilled not only in hunting, but in his trade, too. Gwen could forge a blade with the best smiths and her intricately carved handles were sought by not only Camelot’s finest knights, but from Camelot’s allies in the villages beyond. Merlin didn’t dare handle the swords. He often found himself flat on his back, staring at the point of Arthur’s practice sword when they roughhoused. Gwen’s laughter would draw Arthur’s attention, so Merlin could get up and brush the grass from his backside. Although he’d be embarrassed, he was grateful that Gwen never held his awkwardness against him.
All three friends would laugh together as they dipped their toes into a cool stream at the height of the day. The summer stretched on forever, it seemed.
When Arthur announced that he would marry Gwen, Merlin first felt a pang of jealousy. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he made his excuse to Gaius, explaining that they were tears of joy instead of sorrow. But inside his heart, Merlin feared that he would no longer be as welcome at Arthur’s side as he had been in the past.
Although he tried not to think about it, ever since Merlin arrived in Camelot and suffered the misfortune to be named Prince Arthur’s manservant, he couldn’t take his eyes off the prince. The simple brush of his fingers against Arthur’s neck while he dressed him made Merlin’s spine tingle for hours afterwards.
Arthur was a prat, and a royal one at that, but Merlin couldn’t entirely tamp down the feelings that plumped his cock, forcing him take himself in hand every night that he spent alone in his tiny bed. The quarters he shared in Gaius’s workshop were as lonely as they were depressing. Fantasizing about the prince always made sleep come quickly.
In the years that passed in Arthur’s service, Merlin often wished things had been different between him and Arthur-that they might be more to each other than a servant and master. But he managed to quell the heat that curled through his belly long enough to greet each dawn with good cheer, happily rousing Arthur from his sleep.
Merlin hoped that he might outgrow his feelings. He dreamed that he would to fall in love one day with a maiden from the village or a handsome stable-boy that would make him forget his feelings for Arthur.
But he never did.
The day Arthur announced that he would marry Gwen, Merlin swallowed a sob and waited until Arthur left his chambers for the training field. He hurried through his morning chores with the help of his magic before he borrowed a horse from the stables.
He rode into the forest and found his favourite place, a cool patch of grass that grew beneath an oak tree on the bank of a sparkling brook. Alone in the woods, he shed his tears.
He should have known that it was inevitable that Arthur would take a bride. He was a noble king. He couldn’t be expected to live his life alone with only his gangly servant by his side.
Merlin let the sounds of the forest soothe him. The gentle trickling of the brook comforted him. When he finished weeping, he tried to reflect on the good things that might come of a marriage between Arthur and Gwen.
For one thing, Gwen was fond of Merlin. And it seemed unlikely that she would restrict the time that Arthur spent with him. Merlin still needed to protect Arthur from those who would do him harm. As the dragon prophesied, Arthur would become a great king with Merlin’s help. Surely that bond would forever join the two men, whether Arthur took a wife or not.
When Merlin’s tears had finally dried, he was grateful that Arthur chose Gwen as his wife, instead of one of the many maidens that Uther had paraded before Arthur in the years before his death. Gwen was their friend. She was Merlin’s friend, and she would likely remain so for all of their days.
As the summer lingered, the trio’s happy times continued, just as Merlin had hoped they would. He and Arthur were as inseparable as ever and their devoted Gwen seemed destined to be a permanent part of their friendship in the many years that were surely to come. Merlin’s fears of being separated from Arthur had been unfounded.
Barely a month of summer had passed when Lancelot rode back into Camelot.
Merlin wasn’t sure what was said or done. The only thing he knew for certain was that one week after his arrival, Lancelot rode out from Camelot vowing to never return to the kingdom again.
Gwen left soon afterwards, exiled from the only home she knew.
Merlin’s heart broke when he remembered how Gwen had loaded all of her belongings into the cart without any help from her brother or any of the other maidservants who Merlin knew to be her friends.
Merlin’s loyalty to Arthur nearly tore him apart that day. He couldn’t very well go after Gwen to try to convince her to stay. Although she had been Merlin’s friend since he first arrived in Camelot, he couldn’t violate the king’s decree to banish her. Arthur would have his head.
Instead, Merlin had hidden in plain sight outside the block of cottages that Gwen had called her home for years. Merlin watched, standing like a stone in a meadow, unmoving, emotionless-too stunned by the reality of Gwen’s cart, the wheels squeaking with every turn as Gwen pushed it through the village gates. Someday, Merlin assured himself, he would make things right between them again. Merlin willed the creaking noise to fade beyond earshot, as if the silence would help him forget the tragedy of his lost friendship.
Although he later pleaded with Arthur on Gwen’s behalf, Arthur refused to listen to him then, just as he did on this morning. Still, Merlin resolved to convince Arthur to reconcile with Gwen and let her return to her home. He took every chance he got to plead Gwen’s case, despite the discomfort of spending the day in the stocks.
Merlin rubbed the inside of each of his wrists where the skin had been rubbed raw. It was a small price to pay if he could bring Arthur closer to considering Gwen’s return.
~
Gaius stopped pouring the liquid into the beaker when Merlin entered the physician’s workshop. The scent of fresh herbs barely overpowered the stench of Merlin’s soiled clothing.
“Rough day?” he asked, looking up from the vials that lined his workbench.
Merlin leaned his back against the door and caught his breath. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said.
“The king is keeping you busy these days,” Gaius said. “I almost thought he’d relieve you of some of your more menial duties, now that he has so many other servants available to him since he’s been crowned.”
Merlin stumbled toward the washbasin and checked to see that there was water in the pitcher. “He’s awful to me,” he said, pouring water into the basin. “I think he keeps me on just to torture me.”
“I saw you in the stocks this morning,” Gaius said, pausing from his work. “I didn’t have the heart to stick around to watch the worst of it.”
Merlin slipped off his neckerchief and dipped it into the basin. He wrung out the water and used the cloth to dab at the stickiness on his forehead.
“You’ll never get clean using only the pitcher,” Gaius said. “I had some water drawn for you.”
“Thank you, Gaius,” Merlin said gratefully throwing down his neckerchief. “But I promised that I’d help you with herbs today.”
“I’ve already finished picking them,” Gaius said. “They just need to be hung to dry.” He pulled the wooden tub from beneath the workbench and poured a waiting bucket of water into it. Only then did Merlin notice three more buckets of water that were perched on Gaius’s table among the baskets of herbs.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Merlin said gratefully. He strode to the tub and tested the tepid water with a pair of fingers.
“Whatever did you do to upset the king this time?” Gaius asked.
Merlin stripped off his tunic, the linen catching his ears as he pulled it over his head. He bunched it into a ball, taking care not let any rancid juice drip onto Gaius’s floor.
“I suggested that he might forgive Gwen and allow her back in Camelot,” Merlin said. “It would do wonders for the people’s spirits, and it might lift Arthur’s mood as well.”
“I should have known,” Gaius sighed. “You can’t be blamed for trying.”
“I wish he would take her back so things could go back to normal,” Merlin said, pouring another bucket of water into the tub.
“She put Arthur in a difficult position,” Gaius said with a raised eyebrow.
“Even if I could convince him to accept Gwen back in Camelot again, no one knows where to find her,” Merlin said. “I should have stopped her before she left. I hate myself for simply standing there.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Gaius said. “There wasn’t anything you could do to help her, short of committing treason.”
Merlin kicked off his boots, letting them land quietly beside the tub half-filled with water. “I just watched her walk away from Camelot. What kind of friend does that?” Merlin asked, shaking his head. He reached behind his neck and scratched at the sticky clumps of hair along his nape. “I’ll never forget that day. I was numb. I couldn’t believe it was happening-that Gwen was truly leaving. I tried to intervene with Arthur later, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You can’t blame Arthur for wanting her gone,” Gaius said. “Love makes people vulnerable. He was hurt when it seemed that Gwen chose Lancelot over him.”
“No one has seen Lancelot either.” Merlin said. He returned to the washstand and grabbed a lump of soap. “I suppose I’ve lost his friendship as well.”
“From what I’ve heard, he’d be wise to never set foot in Camelot again,” Gaius said.
“Probably. But that doesn’t make me miss him any less,” Merlin said, stripping off his woollen socks. He tossed them across the room. They landed on the stone floor, just short of Gaius’s laundry basket.
“He was your friend, as well,” Gaius acknowledged.
“Although it was wrong of him to come between Arthur and Gwen,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “Arthur is king. What was Lancelot thinking?”
“Every man needs someone to love, someone to make him feel that life is worth living. He needs to feel that he is more than just himself alone in the world,” Gaius said thoughtfully. “Lancelot is no different.”
“And what about Arthur?” Merlin asked when Gaius turned around to give Merlin some privacy. “Doesn’t he need someone too?”
Merlin unhitched his belt and slipped out of his breeches. Naked, he poured another bucket of water into the tub, taking care not to spill the precious drops onto the floor.
Across the room, Gaius picked Merlin’s socks off the floor. “Do you think we can find another maiden to marry him?” he asked.
Merlin raised his eyebrows as he stepped into the tub. “If only it were that simple,” he said. “You’ve seen how he treated every princess that Uther called to court when he was alive. He’s never shown an interest in any of them.”
“No, Gwen was the only woman he’s ever paid any attention,” Gaius said.
“I wish there was a chance that he might welcome her back to the kingdom,” Merlin said, kneeling in the water, raising its level only a mere inch.
“Even if Arthur was to change his mind, you say no one knows where Gwen travelled when she left Camelot,” Gaius said.
“No, but if Arthur were to welcome her return, I’d stop at nothing to find her,” Merlin said, reaching for another full bucket of water to add to his bath. “She’s Arthur’s only hope for happiness and the kingdom’s only hope for a return to the way things were before.”
“Well, she couldn’t have gone too far,” Gaius said. “I’ll leave you alone to wash up.” Gaius hoisted the laundry basket into his arms. “Toss me your breeches and I’ll take our clothes to the laundry.”
Merlin leaned over the side of the tub for his breeches and added them to Gaius’s basket.
When the door closed behind Gaius, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the water warmed. He folded his slender body into the soothing bath, his long legs cramping until he sorted them out so they were comfortable. Although the day was oppressively hot, Merlin knew it would take a lot of scrubbing to loosen the grime from his skin. He turned the soap between his fingers, making a foamy lather.
Scooping up a handful of water, he let it cascade over his head from his palm. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong, he thought, as the water trickled into his eyes. Perhaps if he found Gwen first, then he could convince Arthur to allow her to return to Camelot, rather than the other way around.
Gwen had only been gone a few weeks. Surely if he asked the townspeople, someone might know where Merlin could look for her.
Merlin dragged the lump of soap across his chest, working the bubbles through his chest hair, sticky with fruit juice.
He could start looking for Gwen as soon as tomorrow, after he finished his duties for Arthur. If he used his magic to help complete his chores, he could have half the morning free, provided that he stayed out of the stocks.
But first he had to get tonight’s feast out of the way.
~
“And if everyone pulls together, Scarborough Fair will be the best venue for trade in all the five kingdoms,” Lord Simeon finished his speech.
A smattering of applause began in one corner of the banquet hall and travelled through the crowd, escalating in volume until it ended with Arthur himself. He clapped his hands together and stood at Lord Simeon’s side.
After the applause died, Arthur raised his goblet. “Let the merchants of Camelot fulfil Lord Simeon’s vision,” Arthur said. He laid a hand on Lord Simeon’s shoulder. “In two weeks’ time, our vendors and craftsmen will travel to Scarborough to sell their wares and trade their goods with others from the five kingdoms. If we work together to make this event a success, we will secure our friendship and allegiances with the people of the surrounding realms. Who knows? Maybe we can even make it an annual affair.”
The crowd erupted into more cheers.
Merlin huffed out a breath, pushing the ticklish feather off his face. He hated his serving hat with passion. The pitcher of wine weighed heavily in his hands. In the kitchen doorway, the din of the banquet hall prevented him from overhearing the servants’ whispers about who hoped to display their skills in Scarborough, the gossip from the cook’s assistants, and the speculation about the king’s prolonged bachelorhood.
Merlin stole a lingonberry tart off one of the trays as a serving girl walked by. He quickly gobbled it down and resumed his observation of the feast. Merlin’s foremost duty for the evening was to watch Arthur’s cup to see when it emptied. When it did, he swiftly moved to the king’s side to fill his goblet, careful to not spill anything on Arthur or his esteemed guests.
“You’ve cleaned up nicely,” Arthur said, his eyes roving over Merlin’s official ceremonial garb, “and you smell a bit better too.”
Merlin couldn’t help but be pleased that Arthur noticed that he smelled better. “As you commanded, Sire,” Merlin said with a bow.
With Arthur’s cup filled, Merlin moved past the dais and found Gaius at one of the long tables laden with roast quail, freshly sliced tomatoes, and platters of cheese.
“What’s so special about this Lord Simeon, anyway?” Merlin asked, nudging Gaius aside so he could sit on the bench beside him.
Gaius’s eyes drifted to the feathers that decorated Merlin’s hat.
“This grand fair that Lord Simeon has planned will be a great opportunity for the people of Camelot. Surely many traders and craftsmen will want to represent our kingdom there,” Gaius said. “It’s good for business.”
“Arthur seems keen for people to go,” Merlin said, setting down his wine pitcher and spearing a tomato slice with Gaius’s fork.
“We’ve got a supply of tinctures we could take to trade,” Gaius said. “Think of the time it will save the people of every realm if they are able to acquire our goods in Scarborough, where other vendors have gathered with us.”
“No more traveling to Camelot in the cold of winter when they need a remedy,” Merlin said, nibbling on a piece of cheese. “And we could stockpile a store of linen from Nemeth for bandages and slings without having to plead with Camelot’s villagers for rags when we run out.”
A serving girl brought a tray of lingonberry tarts to Gaius’s table. Merlin dove in.
“I’m glad you like the idea,” Gaius said. “Scarborough is a day’s ride from here for me. You’re younger and faster. I hope that you’ll go to make our trade with the merchants from the other realms. And lay off those lingonberries. You know they don’t agree with you.”
Merlin’s mouth fell open. “Oh, no… I can’t possibly go, Gaius,” Merlin said, finishing his tart. “I need to stay here to convince Arthur to take Gwen back. I planned to look for her tomorrow, but in the meantime I need to be here so I can keep working on Arthur.”
“Merlin, I’m too old to ride that far,” Gaius said. “You need to do something besides spending your days annoying Arthur. I thought I was doing you both a favour by getting you out of Arthur’s hair.”
“I can’t leave here and have Arthur work the knights half to death,” Merlin said. “Please Gaius, you can’t make me go.”
“Ah, well, I suppose I can seek out one of the other vendors to take our goods,” Gaius said, reaching for his spoon. “Really, Merlin, your attitude is going to land you in the stocks again.”
“Speaking of the stocks, Arthur has drained his cup again,” Merlin said, shoving his way off the bench and hoisting the pitcher.
“I’ll go with you so I can say goodnight to the king,” Gaius said, rubbing his belly. “It’s time I turned in for the night. Too much feasting gives me indigestion.”
“Come along then,” Merlin said.
Merlin led the way, bumping elbows with the hordes of people who filled Camelot’s great hall.
When he and Gaius reached the king’s table, Lord Simeon had handed a sheathed dagger to Arthur. The king drew the dagger from its scabbard and admired the blade.
Taking care to fill Arthur’s goblet, Merlin moved to Lord Simeon’s side.
“It’s fine work,” Arthur said, sheathing the dagger again. “And the handle, I’ve never seen work as intricate as this from the smiths of Scarborough.”
Arthur politely handed the dagger to Gaius so he could inspect the craftsmanship.
“It is fine, indeed,” Gaius said, examining the weapon.
Lord Simeon raised his empty goblet to get Merlin’s attention. “What’s more,” Lord Simeon said, “it was crafted by a seamstress.”
Gaius nodded to Lord Simeon.
“A seamstress produced such work?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not a smith or an armourer?”
Merlin’s eyes went to the dagger as he positioned his pitcher to pour. “We had a woman in Camelot who could produce work as fine,” he said. He couldn’t resist needling Arthur over Gwen.
“Merlin,” Gaius said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t you take care of Lord Simeon and then go see if any of the other nobles need their goblets filled.”
Lord Simeon held his goblet steady for Merlin to fill. Merlin poured wine from his pitcher into the cup. Lord Simeon said, “It was crafted by a woman who recently settled in our kingdom. She’s highly skilled at forging. I believe she once dwelled in Camelot. She goes by the name of Gwen.”
Merlin caught the pitcher before it fell to the table, but not before Lord Simeon’s goblet overflowed onto the noble’s sleeve.
“Our Gwen is in Scarborough?” Merlin asked.
Lord Simeon reeled back from the table. He shook his hand like a cat shaking milk from its paw, scattering drops of wine.
Gaius set the blade on the table and found a cloth napkin to dry Lord Simeon’s sleeve with. “What a surprise,” he said.
Arthur’s eyes flared. “Well, I’m glad she found a place to dwell where her services are welcome,” Arthur said.
“Oh, they are more than welcome,” Lord Simeon said. “In just a few short weeks, she has made herself indispensable.”
Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s and he grinned smugly.
“Why, she’s already taken over the maintenance of the armoury,” Lord Simeon continued. “She’s helping to organize the stalls for the upcoming fair.”
“Enough about Gwen,” Arthur said. “Let’s finish talking about what sort of tradesmen from Camelot would have the most impact on the fair’s success.”
Lord Simeon pulled his chair up to the table again. “Certain goods are more necessary than others, of course,” he said.
“What about medical supplies?” Merlin asked, drying the side of the pitcher with a sleeve of his ceremonial robes. “Gaius plans to send me to Scarborough with our finest collection of tinctures. I hope I have success trading them there.”
Merlin tried to ignore Gaius’s groan as he left the high table.
~