How to Survive Promotion in the Middle Ages (6/11)

[themadlurker]

Please see Masterpost for fic headers and author's notes.

Back to Part Five



Days of public audience were the strangest part of Gwen's new position at the court. Strange to see Arthur's face composed into a studied mask of grave and impartial judgment. He kept the same serious, ponderous look ready for every case, whether it was a stolen sack of grain from a storehouse, or a plea for help defending distant villages against bandits.

It made him seem more distant - kingly - but she thought that mask was nothing but his idea of what a king should be. He seemed more like a king to her when a flash of genuine concern showed through. She was proud to see that he considered every matter, however trifling it might seem, with equal care and gravity. She was prouder still when one of the people's stories touched her more than most, and she turned involuntarily to touch his arm, only to find an understanding in his eyes that showed he was just as deeply moved by the people's hardships as she.

Gwen remembered growing up in the lower town, knowing daily that they were close enough to touch the castle walls. She had even come to live part-time in the castle itself while she was still a young girl, working as a seamstress and then a maid. She had served the King's ward, stood mere paces away from the throne in the Great Hall, but even then she had never imagined its power as something she could turn to for aid.

King Uther had been a figure of awe and fear. To approach him for help in the wrong case was a dangerous refuge for the desperate. Most people simply turned elsewhere for help. Gwen tried to imagine what it might have been like if Arthur had sat on the throne when her mother was ill and found she could not. If the King had not been as cruelly indifferent as the sickness that ravaged her mother's body, what else might have been different? Would her father have asked for the court physician's help rather than working himself to the edge of illness himself to make the money to pay for her medicines? Would Elyan have stayed with them?

Perhaps nothing would have changed. Her father had always been so proud of earning everything for himself, and Elyan had always been so restless - even before their mother's illness. But Gwen felt that it would have made a difference, to her, to know that there was some help to be sought if their own inner sources of strength were worn out. There had not, though, and Gwen had found her strength where she could.

To think that now Gwen could reach out a hand, or speak a simple word... When a woman stood accused of stealing from the town apothecary, it was Gwen who pointed out that there were some complaints for which a woman might fear to visit the apothecary's shop openly. The town midwife was gravely ill at the time, leaving many women without help. The one who had broken into the shop had at least some knowledge of herbs and drugs; she might administer safely what in other hands could do great harm. If she were imprisoned - if some other woman, untrained in the healing arts, had to obtain the necessary drugs on her own, lying to the apothecary about the true reason, there was every chance it would result in her death.

Arthur listened gravely to Gwen's plea on the woman's behalf and lightened the woman's sentence to a night in the castle's cells, meanwhile ordering that the medicines she needed should be provided in future from the castle physician's stores. It had struck something like terror into Gwen's heart when she considered what her words had done. Arthur had thanked her later, when they were alone, for her counsel in the matter and she had found herself unexpectedly and helplessly bursting into tears.

"I don't know how to do this," she had said, through sobs that stole her breath from her. "It's too much, it's too much for any person to decide these things."

Arthur had hushed her, wiped the tears from her cheeks and drawn her into his arms. "Today you were the queen I always knew you would be," he said. "A queen to whom the people of Camelot are as dear as her own heart." He brushed a kiss across her temple, softly.

Now, with Arthur occupied by the increasingly frustrating political negotiations with Northumbria, Gwen was for the first time alone in the Great Hall, sitting on the throne and dispensing justice on her own. The most significant dispute for the day seemed likely to be the matter of the ownership of a hen who had wandered - or been lured, one claimant insisted - into a neighbour's coop. The neighbour denied any wrongdoing and claimed that the hen was rightly his in recompense for a number of eggs stolen from his own coop over the years. It made Gwen's head ache.

After warning them that the chicken would be confiscated if necessary to prevent any future chicken and egg questions, Gwen ordered them to mend their fences and returned the chicken to its original owner. The castle guard who had stood patiently by throughout the proceedings, holding the animal at arm's length, looked immensely relieved to let it go. Before its owner could depart in smug triumph, though, Gwen suggested mildly that she might send the castle guards to investigate the disappearance of his neighbour's eggs, if the situation continued. The owner of the chicken blanched, and the neighbour looked smug in his turn.

It was a petty, mean little argument, and did not make Gwen feel nearly as regal as she might have hoped. The chicken dispute was followed by a grocer with a broken apple cart, and then a thief who had stolen some hides from the tanner's and subsequently turned himself in. It turned out that the hides had not finished curing yet, and the stench had been so bad that the thief practically begged the guards to take him away - anywhere - so long as he could escape the smell of the tannery. Gwen ordered the man to pay the tanner twice the worth of the hides and ask for advice there on how to combat the smell.

The next person to be ushered in before the court, much to Gwen's surprise, was Sir Rothby. Gwen looked past him at first, expecting to find he was merely come to observe the proceedings like some of the other nobles, curious to see how the new Queen would acquit herself.

Sir Rothby approached the throne himself, however, and said, "I crave an audience with the King."

"He isn't here," said Gwen, rather obviously, caught off guard by the request. "He's with your uncle in negotiations. Why don't you look for him there?"

"This is not a matter for political negotiations," said Sir Rothby smoothly, unflustered by the curious eyes of the assembled court. "I have information of a very pressing criminal nature to put before the King. I must insist on addressing him before this court."

A murmur went round the court at his words.

"And can't you tell me what it is?" asked Gwen, bewildered and affronted. "I am here as his representative for the people today."

"It must be him," Sir Rothby insisted. "What I have to say concerns a trusted member of this court, and the only way I can ensure a fair hearing is to lay the case before him personally."

A discomforting thought came to mind. Sir Rothby had been so hostile to Merlin since his arrival - and Gwen was known to be partial to Merlin. "I am afraid if you wish to speak to the king," she said, "the question must wait-"

"There is a traitor at Camelot," Sir Rothby announced loudly, completely overriding Gwen's voice, "someone who has broken one of the kingdom's most fundamental laws."

Gwen's heart pounded in her chest with the beginnings of panic. Merlin and Sir Rothby had spent an entire morning alone together in the woods. Had Merlin slipped up somehow? To have this dragged out in public, before Merlin had a chance to explain - Arthur would never - but he mustn't find out like this, not with the eyes of all the court watching.

Gwen was in the middle of saying, "I'm sorry, Sir Rothby, but the council cannot be interrupted," when the doors burst open.

Arthur strode impatiently into the hall, the Earl of Northumbria hard on his heels.

"Guinevere, what's going on?" Arthur asked her, coming to stand by her and addressing her rather than Sir Rothby, whom he dismissed with a passing glance.

"It's not really that important," she said, speaking in an undertone and drawing him as far aside from the crowd as she could so that her voice wouldn't carry to the people who were watching the scene with avid curiosity. "I don't know why he sent for you, it can wait until after this is done."

"What does he want anyway?" Arthur asked, shooting an ill-humoured look at Sir Rothby, who responded with a slight bow.

"He says there's a traitor in Camelot," Gwen said in a whisper so quiet that she had to repeat it.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "A traitor in Camelot?"

Gwen shook her head desperately. "Whatever he has to say - not that I know - but even if there is some truth in the matter, I don't trust him."

"You and Merlin," said Arthur, "you keep telling me that. At least between the two of you I know there's one person with a brain."

Gwen smiled a little through her nerves. "That's not fair," she said.

"Do you know who he's talking about?" Arthur asked.

"I - have an idea. I don't know. It could be nothing. Whatever it is, I beg you -" Gwen worried at her lip. "Don't let what he says make you think - it may not be what it looks like."

"Very well," said Arthur, "but we can't stand here whispering all day or the court will get fed up with us for postponing their lunch."

Gwen laughed despite herself. "We can't have that. There would probably be a revolt."

Arthur smiled back at her and offered her his arm with formal courtesy as they took their places. Since there was only one throne set up in the Hall today, he stood at her side.

"Right," said Arthur, "let's get this over with. Sir Rothby, what is it you have to say that is so important you felt it necessary to summon me away from matters of state?"

Before Sir Rothby could answer, Earl Rupert interjected, "I'm sure whatever my nephew has to say will be worth the hearing, my lord. Do you keep everyone waiting for an audience like this, or is it only our delegation who are not welcome before your court?"

"Yes, thank you, Rupert," Arthur said, "we are ready to hear him now."

Sir Rothby waited until everyone watching them was silent and then spoke in a relatively quiet voice that nevertheless carried to the ends of the Hall.

"I have merely come to tell you," he said, "that your wife is known to have committed acts of adultery with one of your own knights, that she has betrayed you and by extension your people, and that she is, in a word, a traitor and a whore."

Gwen stared. Around her the court exploded into noise, but she couldn't move.

She had been tensed to expect a blow, but not like this. She had been thinking of Merlin, of magic and secrets, and not of words that made her want to curl up and disappear. She felt gutted, left hanging out to dry in front of the eyes of everyone around her.

She was vaguely aware of Arthur at her side, who had drawn his sword and was having to be restrained by two of his own knights from committing murder then and there. Gwen wished she could respond the same way, but even through her shock she knew that a sword could not cut the words out of the air. Nothing could do that.

"Let me go!" Arthur was yelling. "Guards! Take that man out of my sight. Get him out of this court, out of this castle, out of this kingdom for daring to say -"

The guards, who were still hanging back uncertainly, edged closer to Sir Rothby's elbows, but stayed about a half a pace back, not quite closing the rest of the distance.

"What are you waiting for?" Arthur demanded, shaking off the hands that held him. He made no further move to attack Sir Rothby, but he still gripped his sword and his eyes did not waver from his target. "Take this man to the dungeons at once. I won't allow this in my court."

The guards still didn't move, and their eyes flickered desperately between the king and the man they had been ordered to take prisoner. Gwen's heart sunk even further.

"They can't," she said so faintly that even she could barely hear the words. She cleared her throat, reminded herself to keep breathing, and repeated it.

Arthur looked at her in amazement. "You don't suggest I should allow this - this slander?"

Gwen shook her head. "But they can't," she repeated. "They're commoners. They're not allowed to lay hands on a nobleman unless he's committed a crime according to the laws of Camelot." She felt sick, actually sitting there and defending the man who had attacked her. Why would no one else speak?

"And isn't slandering the Queen a crime?" Arthur asked incredulously. "That's a kind of treason, what is wrong with all of you?"

"It seems to me," said Earl Rupert, in a sententious tone, "that you have a very strange idea of justice here at Camelot."

Arthur wheeled around to stare straight at him, with a look that should have spoken death to anyone intelligent enough to read it.

The Earl went on blithely, "Here my nephew, the presumptive heir of one of your most powerful allies -" Arthur raised his eyebrows in a profound look of disbelief that not even the Earl could misinterpret.

The Earl faltered a little, but continued, "Ah, yes, one of Camelot's traditional allies and you will not even hear the case he brings before you? Very much against his will, I am sure," he added with a pointed look at Sir Rothby as if to say, you had better have a good reason for this.

Sir Rothby returned the look with perfect equanimity. His uncle huffed and turned back to Arthur.

"Is this the kind of fair hearing the people of Camelot can hope to expect from their king?" he asked.

There was a weighted silence as the assembly waited for the King's response. The guards that stood at Sir Rothby's back tensed in preparation of further orders. Arthur drew himself up slowly and stood facing Sir Rothby, interposing himself directly between Gwen and her accuser.

"What possible reason could you have for what you have said here today?" he asked stiffly. The line of his back was taut and unyielding, still poised to spring at a moment's notice. Gwen saw his hand clench again around the hilt of his sword.

Sir Rothby's face was mostly hidden from Gwen's view, but she thought she saw the hint of a smirk twitching at the very corner of his mouth.

"Why, it was one of your own knights who gave me the idea," he announced with satisfaction. "Has not one of your knights mysteriously failed to make his appearance in Camelot, despite being seen just outside the border days ago? I believe his name is Lancelot."

"Lancelot?" The surprise was evident in Arthur's voice. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Perhaps nothing," said Sir Rothby disingenuously, "I suppose it could have been some other man I saw meet the Queen in secret in the woods just outside the castle." A shocked murmur ran around the court. "At the time I simply assumed it was her brother she was embracing, who I understand is also one of your knights? However since then I have learned that her brother is not at Camelot at present and that Sir Lancelot has been seen riding towards Camelot but has not made his presence known openly. This is true, is it not?" he asked, as calmly as if he were asking someone else to verify that it had rained on the day before.

"What you're saying is ludicrous," said Arthur, relaxing his sword arm a little. "Lancelot is miles away at the court of Sir Pelles."

"Ah, how silly of me," said Sir Rothby, in a light tone that Gwen didn't trust. "I suppose you know the messenger who informed you of this? You are certain that it could not have been intended to mislead you once Lancelot's presence in the area became known?"

He went on, and on. By the time he was done, Sir Rothby had spun a web of lies out of evidence as insubstantial as gossamer, that nevertheless stuck unpleasantly in Gwen's mind whenever she tried to untangle the threads.

Sir Rothby wanted to start calling witnesses as well, notably Sir Gwaine, but Arthur put a stop to it by saying, "That's enough. Guards, escort Sir Rothby to his chambers. He is not to leave them and or have visitors until this matter is cleared up."

Sir Rothby left smiling and Gwen would have liked, very much, to be the sort of person who could take satisfaction in smashing it off his face.

Instead she did the only sensible thing she could think of, which was to dismiss the remaining plaintiffs for the day, since the time for open appeals had been used up. Then she went to find the one person in Camelot who she trusted to help her unravel an impossible situation.

The guards stationed outside Sir Rothby's quarters were vigilant in their duties. They had no special love for the visiting knight, they had a great deal of affection for the young Queen, and they had been present in the Hall that day.

When Sir Rothby made a perfunctory effort to bribe one of them to let him wander the corridor outside for a while, the guard accidentally dropped the butt of his spear hard on the Sir Rothby's foot. No one could be blamed for such little accidents, after all, any more than they could for the fact that the other guard's attempt to pick it up nearly resulted in disembowelling Sir Rothby with his own spear. Sir Rothby retreated, glowering, back into his rooms and didn't attempt to bribe them again.

The guards could not be faulted, however, for the sudden drowsiness that overcame them soon after that. They slumped over in a stupor just as a cloaked figure that had been lurking around a corner slipped out into the open and through Sir Rothby's door. The same figure emerged a few minutes later without waking the guards from their sudden sleep and leaving no sign to indicate to anyone that the Sir Rothby who paced within the room was not the same Sir Rothby who had stood before the court a few hours before.

Merlin reassured Gwen that he could always turn Sir Rothby into a frog if need be, and scuttled off to the library to ask the court historian about legal precedents.

He almost collided with Sir Gwaine at the door, who came in looking wretched, like a kicked puppy that had been left out in the rain overnight. Gwen would have felt terribly sorry for him if he hadn't, according to Sir Leon, accused her of adultery in front of half the knights of Camelot.

"Gwen - Guinevere," he said, "I came to say, it wasn't - I didn't mean - I didn't say what he said, it was just a stupid - I'm sorry."

"All right, that's good," said Merlin, "let's go now, I'm sure she doesn't need to hear -"

Merlin was still trying to get him to leave when Arthur stormed in. He headed straight for Gwen, saying, "I'm sorry, Guinevere, I should never have allowed - what the hell is he doing here?"

"He was just leaving," said Merlin, tugging on Sir Gwaine's arm, but Sir Gwaine shook him off and took another step into the room.

"I came to see if there was anything I could do," said Sir Gwaine, "to apologize for my mistake in -"

"I think you've done quite enough for now, don't you?" Arthur spat. "Why don't you go find a tavern somewhere and shoot your mouth off about someone else who hasn't done anything to hurt you?"

"I only meant -" Sir Gwaine started.

"Merlin, get that man out of my sight," said Arthur with barely restrained fury.

"Arthur, you know he didn't mean -" Merlin began.

"Out of my sight!" Arthur yelled.

Once they had gone, Merlin coaxing Gwaine away and shushing his attempts at further apologies, Gwen came up and laid a hand on Arthur's arm.

"It's not so bad, is it?" she said. "I don't mind what anyone says about me."

"It's not what they say, Gwen. It's that I can't do anything to stop it. You know I would - damn it. You know I will always do whatever is within my power to defend you?"

Gwen laid her other hand over his heart and looked steadily into his eyes. "I know," she said.

"But that the people should believe - you are their Queen. It isn't right. A queen should have the people's respect, not -"

"Not to be called -" Gwen broke off. "Yes, but what are we supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know," said Arthur, "damn him."

He began to pace the room like a caged animal, while Gwen looked out the window aimlessly.

How much would it matter? At court the circulation of vicious rumour sometimes seemed as much a part of day-to-day affairs as formal receptions and feasts. But would the real people of Camelot, the ones who worked its fields, who plied their trades in its towns and villages, truly care what tales were told of their Queen? It was nothing compared to having food stores to last the winter, or enough wood on the hearth, or safety from attack. No, it shouldn't matter what people thought of her. So why did it hurt so much?

"I'm sorry," Arthur said again, much later, pausing long enough in his pacing to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I should have listened to you when you said something wasn't right. I could have - I don't know, had him escorted to the council chambers and insisted on seeing him in private. Then when I'd run him through," he added with a gleam in his eye, "there wouldn't have been any witnesses."

Gwen sighed and, leaving the blood lust alone, pointed out that Sir Rothby would probably just have waited for the night's feast or some other occasion when he could make a public denunciation. Her reasoning did nothing to still Arthur's restlessness.

Arthur had been pacing intermittently since lunch, which he had eaten in intervals between circling the room like a caged beast.

The trouble was that he had already run out of things to do. His only idea was that Sir Rothby should be exposed as a liar and banished forever from Camelot. He had already summoned Sir Leon and learned that, first, Sir Gwaine had indeed made a public comment about Lancelot calling him the Queen's lover and, second, that the messenger from Carbonek had already departed and that to catch him up would take nearly as long as to send for Lancelot himself to return. Arthur had nodded despondently and dismissed Sir Leon so he could pace some more.

Merlin's return was a welcome relief, if only because he gave Arthur a new person to cross-examine. He staggered in beneath the weight of some extremely dusty tomes, presumably pried from the jealous fingers of the librarian, and returned Arthur's initial burst of excited questioning with a long-suffering expression.

"No, that's all right," said Merlin, "I don't mind, these aren't very heavy, I'll just put them on the table awaaaaay over there on the other side of the room, shall I?" which at least distracted Arthur for the time it took to roll his eyes.

"Have you found out anything useful or have you just been having a nice nap in the library?" Arthur asked him.

"I have, in fact, found out a lot. For example, did you know that Camelot actually operates on a massively complicated legal system based on customs that predate the formation of the kingdom? Apparently when Uther took over, he set out to preserve the ancient customs as much as he could, only, here's the interesting thing, no one can quite agree on what the ancient customs were. Except that everyone agrees there used to be a lot more eye-for-an-eye stuff and you had to pay a fine for chopping off someone's limbs if his family were important enough."

"And you are going to come to a point where any of this is useful..." Arthur prompted.

"Did you hear the bit where I said it was immensely complicated?" Merlin said defensively. "I've had Geoffrey explaining for hours about the procedures for handling disputes among nobles and what happens if it comes down to one noble's word against another." He sighed. "Mostly it comes down to a lot of different ways of hitting each other with swords."

"I could just cut off his head," Arthur said hopefully. "Quick, simple, to the point, less reading."

Merlin nodded enthusiastically. "I know that would make me feel a lot better. Gwen?"

"It might start a war," she pointed out, "not that you should give that any consideration if it makes you both feel better. And it might remind people a little of - of other people who were killed on very little evidence," she added quietly.

Arthur collapsed heavily into a chair and put his head in his hands. "You know, I thought it was going to be great being king. The king is supposed to be the ultimate authority in the land, able to determine the fate of the realm. Nobody told me I was going to have to base my decisions on -" he opened the uppermost book to a random page and read out, "the many uses of the lancet in the treatment of boils? Merlin, are you sure these books are relevant?"

"Er, that one concerns a case where there was, erm, medical investigation of - you know what, I don't think we need that one," Merlin said, hurriedly shuffling it off the pile.

"Isn't there some way we could just -" Arthur threw up his hands in frustration "- prove that the little tick is, you know, lying?"

"Erm. That was what the medical text was about actually, but I don't think you want to - uh, that is to say. Not as such. Unless there are witnesses who can prove he had to have made the story up. Where were you really at the time he's talking about, Gwen, do you remember?" Merlin asked. "It was after Sir Gwaine arrived -"

Gwen shook her head hopelessly. "I was with the Lady Lavinia that particular day. Rupert's mother was there in the morning, but she left later. She said she was tired."

"What are the chances she'll tell the truth about that, do you suppose?" Merlin asked rhetorically.

"About the same as the chances she's not related to Sir Rothby, I'm afraid," Gwen answered anyway.

"Then we'll just have to find another way," said Arthur. "What did you find out about cases where people have accused a member of the royal family of - of breaking the law?"

He didn't seem to want to say the word "adultery" - Gwen couldn't really blame him, since she didn't like it much better herself.

"Well, no one actually accuses the king of breaking the law as such, they just sort of... declare war or try to assassinate him or mount a rebellion or something."

Arthur made a face. "This is all oddly reminiscent of events during my father's reign."

"Yeah, that's..." Merlin said apologetically, "He did sort of believe in executions as a first resort of the justice system."

Arthur indicated the pile of books about law and custom sitting before him. "I have to say, I'm beginning to see his point of view on absolute kingship."

"Don't say that," said Gwen. "Even if you don't mean it. Even if it's someone like Sir Rothby. It matters that you care about giving people a fair trial and following the rule of law, even if you don't have to. No, it matters more because you don't have to. How can the people ever trust in the law if the powerful flout it at their convenience? Sorry," she said, rubbing at her eyes, "it's been a long day."

Arthur didn't have anything to say to that, but he came back to her side to lean in for support, hers or his.

"Merlin, what about cases like this?" he asked. "What if it were any woman of the court who had been accused of ad-" Arthur stumbled over the word again "- of betraying her husband, would that even occasion a trial?"

"Well, erm, frankly there's not that much call for it," said Merlin, "because a lot of men don't exactly want to call attention to it if their wife has, um, found someone she prefers to him. I asked Geoffrey and he said it hasn't happened at Camelot in twenty years."

"What did they do about it then?" Arthur asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Erm. It didn't come to trial because the husband went into a rage, killed his wife and her lover and ran off naked into the woods convinced he was a bear." Merlin shrugged. "I told you it wouldn't be much help."

"Could we arrange for Sir Rothby to run off naked into the woods, do you think?" Arthur asked jokingly, but Gwen thought Merlin looked like he was considering it seriously and shook her head at him.

"But -" Merlin said.

"No," said Gwen firmly.

"Is there something here I'm missing?" Arthur asked. "Would you like me to leave the room so you could talk over my head in private?"

"I think that would be a bit difficult," Merlin said, garnering a raised eyebrow. "To talk over your head. Without you here. Never mind." He rolled his eyes at Gwen and Arthur made an exasperated gesture.

"I can still see you," he exclaimed. "Oh, forget it. Merlin, what about the last time there actually was a trial? There has been a case like that before?"

"Yes, but they, uh, executed her," Merlin said.

"This is not very helpful," said Arthur. "I refuse to accept a scenario where Guinevere is in danger of being executed."

"Oh good," said Gwen faintly, who didn't much like the idea either.

"Well, there was one other thing," Merlin suggested tentatively. "Not that it's a good idea as such, but, er, it seems the woman was executed because no one would step forward to defend her name?"

"That's better," said Arthur, "what do I need to do to defend Guinevere's name?"

"She needs a champion," said Merlin, "according to the old customs, anyway, it's something to do with marriage disputes between families. If a woman's husband tried to, uh, get rid of her, her family could send a champion to defend her - and bring her home if they had to."

"Would Elyan have to fight?" asked Gwen, frowning over the idea. It wasn't that she doubted his willingness, but there was an old protectiveness towards him that was repelled by the idea of putting him in any kind of peril, especially over this sort of court intrigue. "But he's nowhere near Camelot right now."

"I don't think it would have to be him," said Merlin, "it could be just about any knight, really, who swore to uphold and defend your name."

"And whoever it was would fight Sir Rothby?" Arthur asked. Merlin nodded. "Fine, I'll do it myself."

"Uh, that's not -" Merlin started, then looked at Gwen and said, "Wouldn't a frog be easier?"

"Merlin, how hard would it be for someone to find out about this tradition?" Gwen asked, a suspicion that had been troubling her for a while now growing and solidifying in her mind.

"Not that hard, I suppose," said Merlin. "That is, it takes a bit of digging around, but anyone could know about the practice, since it was pretty general in these parts before Uther's time. Why?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," she said. "The one thing I haven't been able to understand is why Sir Rothby should want to hurt me. He seems almost to despise me for some reason, but what could he possibly hope to gain from accusing me?"

"I'd swear the Earl didn't know what Sir Rothby was up to," said Merlin thoughtfully. "Not with the way he reacted."

"He was smug enough about it," countered Arthur, "although that could be his default reaction to everything."

"And you told me he was trying to do something... underhanded," Gwen said to Merlin, "about fighting Arthur yesterday."

"You don't think..." Merlin said. They shared a flash of sudden understanding.

Arthur looked between the two of them in confusion. "What? What?"

Gwen felt sick. "Don't you see, Arthur, it's you he's after. I'm just - just his way of provoking you."

The thought made her angrier than she had been all day, even while she'd listened to herself being slandered before the court. The thought that she was being treated as nothing more than a pawn to be manipulated to attack the king. She didn't want to think it, but it was the only thing that made sense. Merlin was nodding along.

"You weren't going to be fighting in the tournament," said Merlin, "and you got out of fighting Sir Rothby at that practice - and that wasn't going to be any friendly practice match, either, I'd swear to it. He wants to kill you."

"He can want to kill me as much as he wants to," said Arthur finally. "If he wants to fight me, let him do his worst. No," he said as Gwen started to object, "I have to do this. If you had married anyone else, this wouldn't have happened. It's because you're married to me that the people who want to hurt me are using you to do it, and that - that isn't something I can forgive. And he isn't going to get away with it."

He left without another word and Gwen traded a look with Merlin. "You have to go -" she was saying, and before she had finished, he said, "Lancelot."

Gwen was already nodding. "He's the only one Arthur will allow to fight in his place."

"Besides, Sir Rothby already has him mixed up in this. He's accused him too," Merlin said.

"You think he'll come?" Gwen asked. "It isn't only that - that I don't want to see Arthur hurt, but he's the best one to fight and if - maybe if it isn't Arthur..."

"He'll come," said Merlin. "And if Sir Rothby tries anything - even if Arthur fights him, I won't let anything happen. I'll stop whatever he's planning to do."

"If I know Arthur, he'll set this as the first contest of the tournament," said Gwen. "That's in two days. It takes that long just to ride to Corbin... can you really get there and back by then?"

"Oh, just you watch me," Merlin promised with a grin. "I'll be back on the first morning of the tournament. Just don't let Arthur do anything monumentally stupid in the meantime?"

"I'll try." Gwen smiled. "But no promises."

Merlin hugged her quickly and then he was out the door at a run.

Part Seven

Crossposted from http://themadlurker.dreamwidth.org/63384.html at Dreamwidth.
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