Untitled by Unknown Author Page A

perched on the edge of his worktable, also lost in repose; his favorite bird, Roc, slept at the head of his bed. Then something woke Merlin and Roc almost simulta­
    neously. The other birds remained asleep. But there had been some noise in the night, loud enough to waken Merlin, vague enough not to be identifiable.
       He climbed from his bed and into a robe. Softly he called, "Who is there?"
       There was no answer, not to his surprise. The fire was burning low; he put two small logs on it. Then he got his cane and climbed slowly down the stone stairs to the level where Nimue and Petronus had their rooms. He knocked gently at her door. "Colin?" From inside he heard the sound of snoring. Crossing to Petronus's room he knocked a bit more loudly. "Petronus?" But the boy did not answer.
       Something was wrong in Camelot; his every instinct told him so. Slowly, heavily, he descended to the castle's main floor. He had not thought to bring a light; dim torches at wide intervals along the walls gave the only illumination.
       Then ahead of him he saw someone approaching, carry­ ing a brightly blazing torch. And it was Arthur. He was staggering—drunk as nearly always at night.
       "Arthur."
       The king stopped. Swaying, he steadied himself against the wall and asked, "Who's there?"
       "It's me, Arthur, Merlin."
       "Oh. What are you doing up?"
       "I heard something, or I think I did. Where are your guards?"
       "I gave them the slip. They always follow me on these late-night walkabouts, and I hate it. I need to be alone to think."
       "You are in no condition to think."
       "You sound like Britomart."
       "She is right, then. Did that attempt on your life teach you nothing?"
       He lowered his torch; his face was in shadow. "I don't much care if I'm killed. I don't want to be alive."
       "Stop talking like that."
       "It's true. Merlin, if someone were to kill me, I would die happy, knowing that the end had come and that I am through with the human race."
       "I sympathize with your view. But what advantage do you see in expressing it at this hour?"
       Footsteps clattered up the hall behind Arthur. Two of his guards. "Your Majesty, come with us, back to your tower."
       "No. Leave me alone."
       "Britomart told us to keep watch on you. She'll demote us if she knows you got away from us."
       "Get away from me."
       "Please, sir. We have wives and children. We can't afford to be demoted."
       Merlin spoke up. "You both know me?"
       "Yes, sir," they said in unison.
       "Good. Then I want you to take the king back to his rooms. Do not worry, there will be no trouble. I will take the responsibility."
       "Yes, sir."
       "Use force on him if you must."
       They took Arthur by the arms and began to push him back in the direction he'd come from. He fought for a mo­ ment then resigned himself to it.
       "Good night, men. Good night, Arthur."
       "Merlin," Arthur cried, "I've always loved you. When I was a boy you seemed the wisest man possible. I revered you. I think you know that I still do. Please, tell them to release me."
       "Then you must know that I love you, too, Arthur. I love you much too much to leave you open to another attack, even if you lack that much sense yourself. Go to bed, Ar­ thur. And, for heaven's sake, don't drink anymore. We will talk in the morning."
       Arthur, deflated, stopped resisting his guards. Merlin watched them go, then went back to his own tower and began slowly to climb the steps.
       When he reached his room he noticed that the ravens were gone. That was not unusual; they often came and went all night long. But then . . .
       There was something on the hearth. He went and looked. And it was two of his birds. They had been be­ headed; their severed heads lay near their bodies, facing grotesquely backward.
       "No," he whispered. "No, not this."
       Their bodies were still warm. He