Chapter 17—The Truth Will Out

“Set him down on his bed, then step back.” Lancelot gently lowered Arthur onto the plush coverlet of his four-poster bed, but he did not move away. His eyes were locked on the prince. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and now that he had released Arthur from his grip, his hands clenched and unclenched with pent up fury and frustration.

“Move aside, Lancelot, so that I may tend to him.”

Lancelot grimaced then stepped back, allowing Guinevere and the court physician to approach Arthur’s side. He moved to the other side of the bed.

The physician bent over Arthur and peeled back an eyelid, then laid his ear on Arthur’s chest, listening. He unwrapped the bloodied wrappings, revealing pink, unblemished skin. He gently probed Arthur’s abdomen, then moved on to flexing various limbs. Finally, he straightened, a frown creasing his brow.

“Well? What’s wrong with him?” The words burst from Lancelot’s lips, drawing a frown from Guinevere. Their eyes met, shared concern moving between them.

“As far as I can tell, nothing.” The physician frowned down at Arthur. “He is merely sleeping.”

“Sleeping? You mean he is unconscious,” said Guinevere.

“No, I mean he is asleep. Here, let me show you.” He leaned over Arthur, placed both hands on his shoulders and shook him. “Arthur, wake up.”

Arthur’s eyes fluttered, then opened. His mouth stretched in a huge yawn.

The door to his chambers burst open, slamming up against the wall with a loud crash as Uther rushed into the room. Five guards accompanied the king as he crossed the floor to Arthur’s bedside. “Arthur! Are you hurt?”

Arthur rubbed a hand down his face then pushed himself up into a sitting position. He blinked, his eyes taking in the many faces that stared down at him. “What are you all doing in my bed chambers?”

Uther frowned. “You were attacked by the bone dragon. At least that is what the knights tell me. Don’t you remember?”

Arthur ran a hand down his chest, encountering the slack bandaging. “Yeah…the dragon.” His eyes roved around the room. “Where is Merlin?”

“Merlin? Why would he be here?” said Uther.

“He was with me when the dragon attacked. We were riding back to Camelot, together. When my vigil ended, I thought it would be good if he accompanied me back to the castle, you know, because of the party. He and his mother are supplying kegs of beer.” His voice trailed off. “What are you not telling me. Is he dead?”

Uther cut off Arthur’s query. “Whether he is or isn’t, is not important right now. It is you I am concerned about. You arrive here, looking as though you are half dead, covered in blood. Lancelot carried you to your rooms. How is it that you are healed?”

Arthur shook his head, bemused. He fingered the bloody cloth. “I do not know. I have no memory of the event.” He ran a hand down the unblemished flesh of his chest.

Lancelot cleared his throat. “If I may speak, sire? When we found Arthur, Merlin was with him. They were being sheltered by an older man in the lower town. Perhaps this man healed Arthur?”

“Then you will find him and reward him. He saved my son’s life.”

“Yes, sire.”

“And find Merlin. He can assist Arthur, since he was a witness to this healing.” Lancelot bowed in acknowledgment of his command, then left the room.

“Arthur, we must track down and kill this dragon. If you are truly fine, then I would like you to go with the physician and question the villagers.”

“I will gather the Lady Morgana and we will tend to the injured too, sire,” said Guinevere.

“Thank you, lady.” Uther left Arthur’s chambers, taking his guards with him. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

“Do you really feel fine, Arthur?” asked Guinevere.

“Yes, I am completely healthy. If it wasn’t for the bloodied bindings and the state of my clothing, I would not believe I had been injured.” To demonstrate his fitness, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood, stretching. The muscles in his chest rippled, drawing Guinevere’s eyes. She appraised him with frank eyes.

“Remarkable, sire. I am most curious to speak to this stranger. Should you feel ill in any fashion, please call on me immediately. Now, I must return to my treatment of the villagers.” The physician gathered up his medical bag, bowed and hurried out of the room.

Arthur walked over to a tall carved cherry wardrobe and pulled out a fresh shirt, pulling it over his head, before donning a tunic. “We must find Merlin,” said Arthur, his voice muffled. “I think he saved my life, not that villager.”

“How?” asked Guinevere.

“I don’t know, but I have my suspicions. I need to talk to him. Come, let us collect Morgana and return to the courtyard. You can assist the injured in the infirmary, while I search for Merlin.”

***

Merlin sprinted through the lower town, dodging burning wagons and toppled barrels, hunting for the bone dragon. She was out there, somewhere. He hadn’t seen the dragon for over half an hour, but the evidence of its destructive rampage was easy to spot. Three quarters of the lower town had suffered damage. The sky was thick with choking smoke from hundreds of smoldering thatched roofs. Bucket brigades had been formed, and the worst of the fires had been doused, but there were still a multitude of hot spots, which flared to life with every small gust of wind.

Merlin moved through the crowds of groaning people, assisting where he could. Most he could not help. The flames had a mind of their own, and the majority of people who were set ablaze burnt on the spot, their bodies consumed and reduced to ash in minutes. No, the victims he could help had received secondary injuries such as broken bones, caused by collapsing masonry, and the trampling of panicked horses and humans. Slowly, the survivors made their limping way into the upper town, seeking medical aid from the castle.

A mother, carrying two squalling children, stumbled and fell. Merlin rushed over and took one child from her hip. The sandy haired boy was three or four years old, and his broken arm hung at a weird angle. He cried as Merlin picked him up. “Let me help you,” he said to the woman, who lurched to her feet again. Merlin glanced down and swallowed hard. Her feet were burnt and blistered, and her arms and legs oozed with painful boils. The swellings covered her face. How she could walk, he couldn’t fathom. He reached out for the small, freckle-faced girl and took her from her arms. “I can carry them both. Come.”

The woman nodded, tears streaming down her face. Together, they made the slow, painful climb up the steep incline, following the weary, bedraggled flow of humanity. The putrid smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils, sickening him. Merlin kept his pace even with the mother. She did not speak the entire way. Dry, rattling gasps were the only sounds she made, as nimbler people pushed past. Just as they reached the main courtyard, the woman collapsed to the pavement. Merlin paused but did not look down, choosing to shield the children’s view from their stricken mother. He knew it was too late. She was dead.

“Merlin!” Arthur ran across the courtyard, skidding to a stop in front of him. Guinevere and Morgana ran at his side, accompanied by four knights. Guinevere gasped as her eyes fell on the stricken woman. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Their mother. The children, they are hurt and need immediate attention.”

“Bring the children to tent number one. Follow me.” Arthur pointed at two of the knights and then at the woman’s body, then moved off to the right. Merlin followed. He glanced back to see them pick up the body of the woman and carry her to a dark tent set up at the far end of the courtyard away from where the healers moved among the throng of injured villagers. They arrived at the wide, open-sided tent, set with tables crowded with patients. Merlin set the two terrified children down on a table, but the children refused to let go. The sobbing girl clung to Merlin, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Mama!” she wailed. A healer took over, prying the girl’s hands from around Merlin’s neck. She spoke with a calming, singsong voice to the children. Guinevere drew closer to assist. Arthur drew Merlin away from the children, with a hand on his arm. “You have done what you can to help them, Merlin.”

“But who will they go to? Their family must be found.”

“Yes, and they will be. You did well, keeping them together. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have known anything about them. They will be cared for, I promise. We will find their family.”

Merlin’s eyes roved over the milling crowds. “So many have died. The dragon must be stopped.”

Arthur’s eyes tightened and a muscle moved in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “These are my people. It is my duty to protect them. This foul creature cannot be allowed to continue to wreak havoc on this kingdom.” His eyes flashed with fury. “You know what is going on here, Merlin, and I will know the truth of it. Come with me.”

Arthur left the courtyard, taking a staircase that led up a bell tower, spiraling several stories into the air. The thick stone walls muted the cries of pain and grief that dominated the courtyard. They reached the top several moments later. Multiple glassless windows were set into the circular walls, overlooking every part of Camelot.

“From here, we should be able to spot the dragon, if it is still attacking Camelot.” Arthur leaned out the window, scanning the horizon. Fires still burnt throughout the lower town, the smoke rising to drift on the breeze, hazing their view. Arthur moved from window to window, searching the horizon for a sign of the dragon. After completing a full revolution of the tower, he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, considering Merlin. “The time has come for complete truth between us, Merlin. I know it was you who saved my life earlier today, when the dragon attacked.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you, really?”

Merlin shoved his hands in his pockets, refusing to meet the prince’s eyes. “I am the son of a brewer and his wife. That is the truth.”

“There is more to it. I can see it in your face.”

Merlin remained stubbornly silent.

“You have magic, don’t you?” said Arthur. Merlin’s surprised eyes met Arthur’s for a split second, then he looked away. “Yes, I see the truth in your eyes. You fear to tell me because of my father’s edicts.” Arthur relaxed his arms, hooking his elbows in the window well behind him. “I could have clapped you in irons and dragged you to the dungeons and tortured a confession out of you. But I chose to bring you someplace private, to have a frank conversation. Truth is, Merlin, I need you as much as you need me. You obviously intend me no harm, or you would not have saved me in the lower town.”

Merlin finally met Arthur’s eyes, eyes narrowed, keeping a tense distance between them. “The idea of me having magic does not bother you?”

“No, it does not. For some reason, I trust you. I have since the moment we met.” Arthur considered the young man standing in front of him. “It’s like we are lost brothers. I sense a kindred spirit in you.”

“Will you promise, on your future throne, that this is not a trick?”

Arthur laughed. “I already told you, I have other means to gain a confession if that is what I wanted. Out with it, Merlin. I promise I have secrets of my own, and if we can learn to trust each other right now, we will both have gained an ally.”

Merlin walked over to stand beside Arthur, placing his arms on the window sill, the opposite of Arthur. He gazed out over the smoking city. “Yes,” he said softly, “I have magic. I was born with it.”

Arthur’s head turned at Merlin’s words. “And you have saved me not once, but twice now, right? In Affalon, you drew the dragon away, and today, you healed me of what were surely mortal wounds.”

“Yes. The gift of healing is very strong in me.” With Merlin’s affirmation, Arthur grinned. “This is wonderful news! Now tell me what you know of this dragon.”

Merlin described his encounter with the dragon, in Affalon Ford, and how the conjured dragon was actually a young woman, a witch of prodigious skill. He described her appearance to Arthur and the prince’s smile widened.

“It is her! The girl from the kitchens. That is how she was described to me. It also explains why she was not at the inn. She was executing her attack. And now she has returned to Camelot.” He shifted around, gazing back out over Camelot. “But why is she doing this? Why attack Camelot?”

“Those with magic do not need to look far for motivation,” said Merlin. “Their very existence is threatened by your father’s edicts, not to mention the teachings of the church. But I think it is more than that. To actively seek a confrontation like this makes me believe that she has deep, personal motivation in her heart.”

“Do you think you could reason with her, should we corner her? My knights will be of no use against such a foe. And if she does seek to attack the castle directly, the throne is threatened. The king will do everything he can to destroy her, and I can’t say that he is wrong. The good of Camelot and the kingdom must come first, whatever her grievances.” Arthur stared at Merlin. “This is, in part, why I need you, Merlin.”

Merlin stared into Arthur’s eyes, holding them with his own. “And what is the other reason?” he said, in a soft voice.

A blush rose on Arthur’s neck, and his ears reddened. “It has to do with matters of the heart. And Lancelot.”

Merlin grinned for the first time. “Magic does not limit love. In fact, it enhances all forms of affection. It is mankind, and our personal beliefs that limit our ability to love. You will find no judgment or condemnation of your choice, within my heart. The affections you feel for another are yours. I wish you the best of luck, Arthur. Your secret is safe with me. But I must ask, what of Guinevere? Is she not your intended, for marriage?”

“She is. We have talked and come to an arrangement,” he said, in a voice that discouraged further questions. “Now, your main task,” said Arthur, returning to the main conversation, “is to track down this dragon. You will begin living here at the castle immediately, and as your liege, I order you to track down this dragon lady. We must apprehend her before she can destroy us all. I need you close at hand, more than ever.”

Arthur pushed away from the wall, and held out his hand to Merlin. Merlin took it, grasping it firmly. “Thank you,” said Arthur.

“Thank you,” said Merlin softly. “I am honoured that you would trust me so. It will be my privilege to serve you, Prince Arthur.”