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   "Do your best, Andrew,"

   "And suppose they catch me? I mean, I'm training to become a knight, not a spy."

   "I will have someone stationed to watch them in the Great Hall. If either of them moves to leave, I will have one of the younger boys run and alert you."

   "Petronus is the fastest runner among us. You should use him."

   "Not Petronus, Andrew. No, not him. But there are other good runners. Britomart will know the right one to use."

   Andrew sounded uncertain as he said, "Yes, sir."

Just as they were finishing this exchange, Merlin noticed a pair of people coming down the hall. It was Leonilla and her serving-man, Jean-Michel. She was dressed in her usual black; he was in brightly colored clothing. For once she appeared to be in her right senses.

   As they approached, Merlin bowed to the old queen. "Good afternoon, Leonilla. How you are today?"

   "I am old. What else?"

   "A condition we share. And may I ask, will you be at­ tending tonight's festivities?"

   "Festivities? With my husband dead?"

   "You would not be the first widow to behave in such a way. After all, you are a grieving widow, but you are also a queen, with a queen's responsibilities."

   "Rubbish. But there are rumors, Merlin, about what will happen tonight. They say Guenevere is going to formally submit herself to Arthur's authority."

   "I have no information on that."

   "Don't play games with me. I was playing and winning them when you were in diapers. I want to know."

   "I swear to you, I have no definite information. Arthur and Guenevere have reached an understanding. But I have no idea why she would submit to him now, of all times." He hoped that lie sounded convincing.

   But she was relentless. "It is true, then. My husband's death has undermined my daughter." She smiled and chuck­ led softly.

   "Your grief is rather peculiar, Leonilla."

   She leaned very close to him. "Let me tell you a secret, Merlin."

   "Yes?" He made his tone conspiratorial.

   "I do not like my daughter."

   "You startle me. Then tell me, will you, why you have actively promoted her plans for greatness here in England."

   Bitter laugh. "England? What on earth is England? It is nothing. So tell me—will she submit to him?"

   Cautiously he said, "Believe me, Leonilla, there is not a thing I can tell you. You will have to attend tonight if you want to know."

   "Why are the English such stubborn fools?"

   "We have learned the necessity of it from centuries of dealing with the French."

   Again she chuckled, and she and her young man walked off down the hall. An image flashed into Merlin's mind of their flesh—his young and fresh, hers old and wrinkled— commingled. He forced himself not to think about it. But she seemed to be showing signs of recovering from her mad grief; that, at least, was a relief.

And so after a huge feast in the refectory, all the delegates began to gather in the Great Hall. In total there were nine­ teen of them: Frenchmen, Greeks, Egyptians, Northern Europeans of various descriptions, and the increasingly suspicious Lithuanian. They and their retinues, which ranged in size from one aide for the Lithuanian to eight or more for some of the others, ate, drank, gossiped, met fur­ tively, schemed more or less openly, and generally made themselves a burden. Merlin found himself hoping, more than once, that putting up with their presence would prove worthwhile.

   He spent some time moving from one group to the next, playing the gracious host, inquiring whether everything was to their satisfaction. And one visitor after another asked whether he was going to perform any of the sorcery he was famous for. He explained patiently that he was not a magi­ cian and had no idea how that reputation had arisen.

   When he finally grew tired of this, he sought out Ni­ mue's company to complain. "There is a line in the Chris­ tian holy book, penned by one of their prophets," he commented dryly to her. " 'They toil not, neither do they spin.' It does not become you and me to sneer at the Chris­ tian prophets."

   In one area of the octagonal hall a platform had been set up for musicians. They practiced and tuned their instru­ ments, adding to the cacophony of dozens of voices, then began playing lively tunes when enough people had arrived to make a proper audience. Servants passed among the crowd with trays of food, and minstrels and jugglers per­ formed. Despite the death of Leodegrance, everyone seemed to be in a cheerful mood.

   Gildas made his way through the crowd to Merlin. He was dressed in robes the color of blood; the effect would have been somber except for the abundant gold jewelry. Uniquely among the assembled legates, he seemed not to be enjoying himself. "Merlin, this is genuinely outrageous. These good Christian men are to be subjected to pagan prayers."

   "I suspect they won't mind too much, Bishop. In my ex­ perience, politicians believe only in politics, and that only when it is to their benefit."

   Gildas harrumphed and stalked away, following a waiter with cakes and ale.

   Through the crowd Merlin noticed Andrew of Okun, du­ tifully attending his Lithuanian charge, who was engaged in lively conversation with his aide. They were both plainly excited—by the crowd? the event?—and gestured vividly with their hands as they talked their gibberish. Andrew caught Merlin's eye and winked.

   Nimue flagged down a servant and took several honey cakes; she gave signs of enjoying the evening. "All the work we did to prepare the way for this night, Merlin, and now it's happening."

   "You have done an excellent job preparing this, Colin. Certainly you deserve the lion's share of credit. I could hardly have done better myself."

   "That's a mighty sunny sentiment for you, Merlin. Shouldn't you be worrying and hoping the evening will come off without any unpleasantness?"

   "With this many politicians here, that would be an un­ reasonable hope. I will be happy if we get through the night without another murder."

   "Now that sounds like the Merlin I know." She looked around for another waiter. "When is Arthur coming?"

   "Shortly. I sent a page to tell him everyone was here." He lowered his voice. "You ought to go easy on those cakes. You have a figure to maintain."

   "Men don't worry about things like that. And I am Colin, remember? Disregard for my personal appearance is one of the advantages of this disguise."

   Guenevere entered the hall. The musicians struck up a fanfare and she progressed in a slow, stately march to her throne, followed by Petronilla and two handsome young male attendants. Merlin found himself wondering whether she was taking a page from her mother's book. Her manner was quite regal; she nodded to friends here and there in the crowd but never wavered from her progress. The fact that she was attended by such a small retinue made her de­ meanor look faintly foolish, to Merlin's eye.

   Once she reached her throne he made his way through the crowd to her. "Good evening, Guenevere."

   "Merlin. What have you discovered?"

   "There is some slight doubt about your father's murder. About the murder weapon, specifically. It was your knife, not Lancelot's."

   She smiled a queenly smile and watched the crowd, not him. "As I told you."

   "I am not at all certain why you seem so pleased. Your father was killed with your dagger. And the only witnesses to the crime were your lover and your secretary. A wiser queen might be worried."

   "Investigate. Neither Lancelot nor I had a thing to do with it. You will see." She waved and smiled at Gildas, who made a half-bow to her.

   A moment later the musicians struck up a second fan­ fare, a slow, dolorous one. They played it noticeably louder than they had Guenevere's. Everyone stopped talking and looked to the door for Arthur's entrance.

   But instead of the king it was Leonilla who entered. She was dressed in her usual black robes, now doubling as widow's weeds. Beside her was her servant and constant companion, Jean-Michel, dressed in gleaming ceremonial armor. She rested a hand on his arm and they moved through the Great Hall. Leonilla looked ahead majestically, never to either side, as if to suggest these nonroyals were not worth her notice. Once she seemed to stumble slightly, as if her legs were failing her, and Jean-Michel caught her by the elbow and steadied her.

   Her throne had been set up in another corner of the hall, away from Guenevere. Merlin whispered to Nimue, "Come, let us greet Her Majesty."

   They reached the old queen's throne just as she was seating herself in it. "Queen Leonilla. Good evening."

   "Good evening, Merlin."

   He presented "Colin" and expressed mild surprise that Leonilla had come, since she had indicated earlier that she wouldn't. "I am not at all certain of the protocol for royal mourning, but surely—"

   "I mourned for my husband when he was alive. For his failed ambitions, his dwindling power, his absurd pretense of political influence. Mourning his shriveled corpse now would be slightly redundant, wouldn't you say? I found I could not stay away."

   "Not even death penetrates your character, does it, Leonilla? I must confess a certain grudging admiration. But how far will you carry this? You are not going to kiss your young man here, are you?"

   For the first time she looked directly at Merlin. "The whims of a queen are notoriously difficult to anticipate."

   "For heaven's sake, Leonilla. Try to remember who you are. And where. And what happened only yesterday."

   Her face was granite. "You seem to have forgotten. My daughter's lover murdered my husband. She herself most likely engineered it. Yet she sits in a place of honor at her 'husband's' side." She leaned heavily and ironically on the word
husband
.

   "Before the evening is over, you will see her position clearly enough, as will everyone here." He winked at her.

   "So she will do it, then. I am quite looking forward to it. Jean-Michel." She turned to her young man.

   "Yes, Your Majesty?"

   "A pillow for my back."

   "Yes, Your Majesty."

   He got one and arranged it for her. She smiled and closed her eyes like a contented cat.

   Merlin and Nimue moved on into the crowd. Nimue ex­ pressed surprise and mild shock that the widowed queen was in attendance. "I never thought she would come. I had a throne set up for her just in case. It's lucky I did."

   Merlin whispered to her, "She wants to see her daughter humiliated. I infer there is more rivalry between them than we ever suspected. I will tell you about it tomorrow."

   Through the crowd Merlin spotted his friend Germani­ cus. He excused himself to Nimue and moved to join the man.

   Germanicus had been drinking and it showed. He grinned an enormous grin, took Merlin by the arm and said, "All these diplomats, all these grandees, all of them here to work—to the extent that what they do can be called work. I seem to be the only one here with no agenda but to eat and drink. Thank you for inviting me." He beamed.

   "You have a brief as well," Merlin said softly. "I need in­ telligence about these people. You are the only one who can give it to me."

   "Ah, so."

   "That Lithuanian, for instance—or whatever he is. What do you know about him?"

   "He can only speak his own language, apparently. That makes him less than useful as a diplomat, wouldn't you say?"

   "There is a suspicion among some people that he might really be Podarthes, here incognito."

   "I know Podarthes. Believe me, he is nothing like that man. Not only would you be able to understand him, you would never be able to shut him up."

   "Splendid. And I was thinking it was too bad he hadn't come."

   "The last I heard, he was on his way. I've been quietly hoping he was waylaid by Italian bandits or African pi­ rates." He smiled. "I've never much liked him."

   Suddenly more servants entered the hall with blazing torches and the music blared still more loudly. The musi­ cians played a royal fanfare and Arthur entered, wearing Excalibur at his side, attended by his squire Greffys and a dozen servants carrying still more lights, walking in two files, one on either side of him. He progressed to his throne, on the same platform as Guenevere's, without acknowledg­ ing the assembled legates, bowed slightly to Guenevere and took his seat.

   "Arthur has been studying Justinian." Germanicus sounded half disapproving, half pleased. "Justinian can re­ tain his imperial detachment from us mortals for hours on end. He is capable of standing or sitting enthroned all eve­ ning without ever acknowledging that there might be any lesser mortals present."

   "It sounds remarkably dull."

   "The emperor is the personal representative of God. How could he behave otherwise? Personally, I like the homey old Egyptian gods—but don't tell anyone I said so."

   "So the pinnacle of imperial behavior is to become a statue? Most rulers are content to leave that for after their deaths."

   "With the love of the Lord there is no death."

   "Of course."

   Unexpectedly the musicians continued their fanfare. A moment later Morgan le Fay entered, dressed in magni­ ficent flowing sable robes trimmed with silver. A file of pages preceded her. And behind her came another page carrying on a black velvet cushion the Stone of Bran, the polished crystal skull reputed to be a powerful mystical object.

   "Good heavens, she has trotted out that absurd relic." Merlin's eyes widened. "I expected to see a good bit of nonsense tonight. I did not think it would come from our own court."

   Germanicus watched the procession. "What on earth is it? Something to do with the god of death?"

   "A fraud, as all these 'sacred relics' are. I will tell you about it later."