The Camelot Spell - Laura Anne Gilman [56]
When they stopped for a midday break, Ailis refilled their waterskins from a tiny stream running downhill while Gerard studied the map and Newt checked the horses to make sure that they hadn’t picked up any stones in their hooves that might cause trouble later. Those chores accomplished, they each ate a handful of the dried meat strips from the pack and washed it down with the water. Ailis then disappeared behind an almost-wide-enough tree, while the boys did what they needed to do on the other side of where the horses were tied. Oddly enough, they had all become more aware of the need for privacy since their quest began, not less—the boys even more so than Ailis, who was accustomed to sharing a sleeping room and chamber pot with seven other servants.
“How much farther do you think?”
“I don’t know. The map isn’t glowing as much as it was before, but we’re still on the right track.” Gerard looked as disgusted as Newt normally did when talking about magic. “I think Merlin enjoys making things impossible.”
“No,” Ailis disagreed. “I don’t think he enjoys it. I just don’t think he knows any other way to be.”
“That’s a comfort.”
Ailis giggled. “That’s what my Lady Guinevere says as well, when the king tells her that.”
“What else do they say about Merlin?” He had never asked her before. Servants might gossip about their betters, but a squire’s responsibility was to be quiet and loyal and wait until called upon. But he was serving Arthur and Camelot directly now, to the best of his abilities, and he thought maybe that had earned him absolution from this small sin.
“Oh, that he is insane.”
“He is,” Newt said, joining the conversation from behind on the path.
“We should all be so mad,” Gerard said thoughtfully, remembering his own encounter with the enchanter in context with what he knew now.
“Does he really live backward in time? Is he getting younger as he ages?”
“I think so. Lady Melisande, one of the ladies in waiting, says that when Arthur first took the crown, Merlin’s hair was entirely white. But Melisande wasn’t there then; she came to Camelot with the queen, so I don’t know how true it is.”
“They say that Merlin doesn’t approve of Sir Lancelot,” Newt said, clearly less hesitant about gossiping than Gerard. “Is that true?”
Ailis hesitated for a short time before responding to that. “There are some who say that Merlin was jealous because the king loves Sir Lancelot so well.”
“You don’t think that’s true?” Gerard had heard those rumors before as well.
“Arthur is fond of Lancelot…but he depends upon Merlin. I think there is a difference. And Merlin is wise enough to know which is more important.”
“More important than having the king’s personal favor?” Gerard had to chew on that to make it palatable.
“Before Lancelot there was Merlin. If Lancelot falls out of favor, there will still be Merlin,” Ailis said.
“And how likely is it that Lance would fall out of favor?” Newt sounded outraged at the thought, although it wasn’t clear if it was from the idea of his hero failing or the king being fickle in his affection.
“So long as the queen stays out of it, not likely at all,” Gerard replied. He almost bit his own tongue at his indiscretion.
“Gerard!” Ailis was outraged. “How dare you repeat such, such filth! ’Tis untrue, all of it!”
“All of what?” Newt asked.
“Some say that the queen has an uncommon fondness for Lancelot. And has since he first came to court.” Gerard took no pleasure in saying it, but having opened his mouth he felt obliged to continue, if only so that Newt didn’t assume something even worse.
“Lance? But—”
“They’re fond of each other, yes,” Ailis said. “As suits a queen and