Morris stuck his head around the door. “The king wants you, sire.” Arthur glanced up from his seat by the fire. The knuckles on his manservant’s right hand were bandaged where the handle of the prince’s knife had crushed them the previous day. The resentment in the man’s eyes was clear, although his words were polite enough. Arthur almost asked if he was all right, but quashed the instinct. “Very well.” Arthur stood up and strode towards the door, forcing Morris to jump out of his way. On the way to the great hall, Arthur passed a couple of maidservants. They curtsied and the slim brunette one blushed. Arthur remembered taking her to his bed one time – or perhaps twice. She’d been inexperienced but keen. He recalled her enticing, full lips with satisfaction – and the things he’d persuaded her to do with them. In the hall, Uther presided at the head of the table, around which the leaders of Camelot’s noblest families were seated. As Arthur entered, he felt a crackle of nervous tension whip through the room: the lords stiffened their backs and adopted neutral, businesslike expressions. They avoided catching his eye. The king waved his son over. He was sprawling on the throne as if it were part of his body, one elbow on the arm of the seat, his leather-clad hand suspended in mid-air as he studied Arthur’s face. Arthur stood to attention, waiting for him to speak. “My son,” Uther said at last, “as you know, there has been much trouble of late along the border with Cenredia.” Arthur nodded. The villages in the border country had been repeatedly attacked by brigands, who inhabited the hills of the neighbouring kingdom. Camelot had sent several units of guards to defend them and had lost dozens of men. “King Balinor of Cenredia has agreed to send forces against the brigands,” Uther continued. “That’s good news, father,” Arthur asserted, relieved to hear that Camelot would no longer have to deal with the problem in isolation. “It is indeed. During our discussions, Balinor and I agreed that a more formal alliance between our two kingdoms would be of great mutual benefit.” Arthur raised his eyebrows. Cenredia was home to numerous warlocks and witches, and King Balinor himself was known to possess mystical powers. Uther had often spoken of him with contempt and hatred – so the idea of an alliance struck Arthur as extraordinary. He didn’t dare express his surprise, but Uther noticed the small change in his bearing. “We have had reports that King Bayard of Mercia is, at this very moment, assembling a great force,” Uther carried on. “Alone, Camelot may not prevail, but with Balinor’s assistance we will be able to overcome any threat from Mercia.” Arthur nodded. He understood what his father was saying – although he still found it hard to believe he’d overcome his deep-seated prejudice against magic to the extent of holding discussions with Balinor. “Therefore,” Uther continued, grasping the arms of the throne more tightly, “I am arranging your marriage to seal the alliance.” Arthur took a deep breath. So it was going to be that sort of alliance. He realised his father was watching him closely. “As you wish, sire,” he replied at once. He became aware of an unnatural silence among the nobles in the hall. Glancing at them, he noticed they were all staring in fascination at the table, or their own hands, or out of the hall windows. “Balinor will visit with his son on Wednesday next week,” Uther continued, “so we may formalise arrangements.” Arthur acknowledged his father’s statement with a nod. He knew King Balinor and Queen Hunith had a son – a son who was reputed to be a powerful sorcerer. But he’d never heard anything about a daughter. “Father, may I ask who my bride will be?” Arthur inquired. “I would have thought that was obvious. Your spouse will be Prince Merlin,” Uther replied, his clipped tone brooking no dissent. “The prince?” Arthur exclaimed. “You want me to marry the prince?” Uther, looking a little uncomfortable, said: “Geoffrey has examined the archive and there is no law against it. It is my will, Arthur – I will hear no more about it. You are dismissed.” Arthur remained rooted to the spot. His heart was racing, making the veins on his temple throb. “But father...” Uther waved his hand imperiously and turned to his treasurer. “Now, Ector – on the matter of the tax revenues...” Sir Ector cleared his throat loudly. “Tax revenues in the first quarter rose a pleasing 26 per cent, my lord.” Arthur stared at Ector, unable to process his words. Everyone else in the hall seemed to be hanging on Ector’s every syllable. Swallowing hard, Arthur bowed to his father, turned on his heel and marched out of the hall with as much dignity as he could muster, with Morris trotting along behind him. As soon as the doors banged shut behind them, Morris whistled and exclaimed: “Bloody hell!” Arthur glared at him. “Watch what you say, Morris.” Morris couldn’t prevent a slight quirk of the lips. “May I congratulate you, sire, on your forthcoming nuptials,” adding, almost under his breath, “you’ll make a beautiful bride, I’m sure.” “Get out of my sight!” Arthur responded angrily. “One more word out of you and I’ll throw you in the stocks for a week.” He made a threatening gesture. “Yes, sire,” Morris said, darting out of his way and running off. Arthur returned to his chambers and gratefully shut himself inside. He leaned back against the reassuringly solid door, wishing it could keep his father, the courtiers, his servants and, most of all, this Prince Merlin out of his life. He shut his eyes and concentrated. This must be a mistake – he must have misunderstood. There was no way his father would marry him off to a man. Whatever Geoffrey of Monmouth said, under Camelot’s laws men with homosexual tendencies were treated as pariahs – they were forced into exile, or imprisoned until they rotted away. His father couldn’t expect him to... to... Ever since he’d reached puberty, Arthur had been sexually active. He’d lost his virginity to the wife of the royal estates manager. At more than twice his age and thrice-married, she’d been an experienced and instructive lover. Since then, his position as heir to the throne had made it easy for him to bed virtually any woman he fancied. He liked sex; it was a pleasant way to pass his time. In a list of his favourite pursuits, it would rank quite highly, coming close behind competing in tournaments, hunting and training his knights. Unlike dancing and polite conversation, it was an activity he actually enjoyed doing with women. That, surely, was the key. Sex was an activity to be performed with women. Not with some unknown prince. His father couldn’t possibly expect him to do that. But then again, it was customary in Camelot to burn warlocks at the stake. And yet his father intended to form an alliance with a sorcery-loving kingdom. He remembered the way his father had raged at the mere thought of magic in the past. How was such a change of heart possible? He was struck by a thought that lifted his spirits. What if his father had been enchanted? The more he considered the possibility, the more convinced he became of its truth. He would send for Gaius, and ask him to prove his father had been placed under a spell. That could be the only explanation. He was about to summon a messenger, when there was a loud rap on the door. He jumped and shouted “Enter!” more loudly than he’d intended. A servant opened the door and his father strode in, followed by the old physician, who stood respectfully by the wall. Arthur wondered how he could have a quiet word with Gaius and inform him of his suspicions without his father overhearing. “Sit down, Arthur,” Uther commanded, taking a seat himself. He was not a slight man, but his presence was more impressive than size alone could explain. “I realise all this must be a shock to you.” “You could say that,” Arthur replied, sitting opposite him. His leg jiggled as nervous energy coursed through him. “You’ve always known your marriage would be arranged,” Uther pointed out. “Yes, father. That’s not the part that shocked me.” “No. Quite,” Uther said, his face softening a little. “The thought of marrying someone who practises sorcery must be unsettling.” “Well, yes, it is,” Arthur replied, considering briefly what it might be like to live with someone who could perform magic. Could the man move objects, make them vanish, read other people’s thoughts? His mind boggled – he couldn’t begin to imagine it. “But even that wasn’t the most shocking part.” “Ah, yes. Sodomy,” Uther said, shaking his head sadly. Hearing such a word on his father’s lips made Arthur flinch. “Father, do you intend me to have...” he hesitated, searching for the right phrase, “...conjugal relations with this prince?” “Gaius,” Uther intoned, beckoning the physician forwards, “speak to Arthur.” Gaius stepped closer. Arthur looked at him warily. “Yes, my lord,” Gaius replied respectfully. Turning to Arthur, he said: “Geoffrey has been finding out what he can about Cenredia’s customs, and I have been investigating their magical laws.” Uther held up his hand to interrupt. “Arthur, I have business to attend to. Gaius will answer any questions you may have about... practicalities. I expect to see you in the council chamber this afternoon to discuss arrangements for King Balinor’s visit.” With that, Uther rose and swept out of the chamber. Arthur watched him go. As soon as the door swung shut, he asked: “Gaius, is there any chance the king is under an enchantment?” “What makes you say that, sire?” “How else do you explain his sudden conversion?” “Conversion, sire?” “Yes. His convers...
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