“It’s the best you’ll find in London.”

Brit snapped, “Is that saying much?”

The man ignored her. “Beer and rabbit for three, then. Will there be anything else?”

“A bit of information, if you please.” Merlin was working at cordiality, hoping it would offset Brit’s rudeness. “Would you be Byrrhus, by chance?”

“I would not.”

“Is he on the premises?”

“No.”

He was not to be put off. “But this is his inn, isn’t it? People talk about Caesar’s Bones all over the country.”

The man gave out a short, derisive laugh. “They don’t, and there’s no use saying they do.” Without another word he turned and went back to the rear of the building.

The three of them fell silent, not at all certain how to react. Finally Brit said, “And the man on the road said they’d be happy to see us.”

“They’ll be happy enough to see our money, when the time comes.”

The publican came back with three large goblets of beer. He scowled at them and said, “Drink hearty.”

“Uh, thank you.”

He turned and left again.

Merlin looked himself up and down. “Maybe we look like we carry some disease.”

“We do.” Brit smelled her beer and pushed the goblet away. “It’s called civilization. It’s complete anathema here.”

Nimue sipped her beer and made a sour face. “This is awful.”

“The meat will be worse.”

“I can see why you don’t like to tell anyone this is where you’re from.”

Brit put on a wide smile. “We all have things we want to hide, don’t we, Colin?”

Nimue froze, uncertain how to react. Merlin made a show of drinking his beer then wiping his lips with a broad gesture. “It’s not the worst I’ve ever had.”

“At least Morgan hasn’t had a chance to poison it.” Brit was not drinking, quite pointedly.

“Oh?” Nimue grimaced at her. “You haven’t tasted it.”

The owner came back with three plates of meat and bread. “Here you are.”

“I don’t believe,” Merlin smiled as wide a smile as he could manage, “we caught your name.”

“Robert.” The man frowned.

“Well, Robert, we are from Camelot. I am Merlin, this is Britomart, one of the king’s premiere knights, and this young man is my apprentice, Colin.”

He stared at them. “Yes?”

Undaunted, Merlin pressed on. “We are on a mission from King Arthur, looking for a man named Byrrhus. He used to be a knight in the king’s service, and we’re told he used to own this inn.”

“Will you be needing rooms?”

He looked to his companions. “For tonight, yes. One for Colin and me, and one for Britomart.”

“Two rooms, then.”

Brit laughed at him. “Yes, you’ve got it.”

“And we’d appreciate some assistance.” Merlin took out his purse and made a show of the gold coins in it.

Robert’s eyes widened. Suddenly he was the most gracious host. “Anything you need, sir.”

“Well, as I told you, we’re looking for Byrrhus. Do you know where we can find him? Or do you know someone who might?”

Robert hadn’t taken his eyes off the purse. “He’s mad. He went mad years ago. He lives in the ruins of the old Roman temple on the hill.”

“Which one? Where?”

He pointed vaguely. “Follow that road out of town. The hill’s steep; you’ll know it. Ruins on top.”

Merlin handed him a coin. “I hope that’s enough for our rooms and your trouble.”

“More than enough, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Not now, thank you. You have stables?”

“Yes, sir, out back. Eat well, sir.”

They ate. No one bothered to comment on how bad the food was; it would have been belaboring the obvious. When they were finished, Merlin went off to find Robert and tell him they’d be back by nightfall. Then they departed in hopes of meeting the man they’d come to see.

It was raining more heavily. Their poor horses were miserable. They mounted and set off slowly. “Which way, Brit?”

She pointed, and they began to move.

The streets were quite empty now, so there was no one for Brit to make snide comments about. She seemed unhappy about it. Close to the edge of town the buildings thinned out and the road started to rise. Quite abruptly, the rain stopped, and ahead of them up the hill, through a light mist, they could see a cluster of old, ruined buildings. Rows of columns fronted them; one of them still had part of a dome standing atop it.

It took a few minutes to reach them; the horses had trouble getting their footing on the muddy grade. Finally, they were at the center of what must have been a sizable sacred precinct in its day. Ten temples of various sizes, built in various styles, loomed around them. The smallest of them wasn’t much more than a shrine; the largest would have made a secure little fortress. Rainwater dripped from what was left of the roofs. Toppled statues, most of them missing arms, heads or both, littered the ground.

“Well.” Merlin dismounted, looked around and rubbed his hands together. “At least everything will dry out now. Where do you suppose we’ll find him?”

They stared at one another and shrugged. Brit said, “I think that one over there is the temple of Mars. That might be the logical place.”

For want of a better suggestion they went and looked. Three Ionic columns stood, supporting nothing at all. A fragment of the pediment lay in the mud; carved into it was the name of the god. The walls and roof were mostly gone. An altar where a statue of the god must have stood once was covered with dead leaves and twigs. Nimue had a thought. “Those limestone buildings in town-this is where they got the stone.”

“Should we have let it go to waste?” Brit sounded defensive.

“We? I didn’t think you identified with these people.”

Merlin interrupted the little spat before it could escalate. “Let’s separate and check the other temples.”

They did so. Most of the others were in even worse shape than that first one. Merlin and Nimue found it dispiriting; Brit was businesslike.

Finally, Nimue stepped into what seemed to be the largest and best preserved of them. There was no indication which god it had been sacred to. It was no cleaner than the others. But under a part of the roof that was still intact a fire was burning.

“Hello?” She raised her voice so much it sounded like a girl’s; she quickly lowered it and repeated, “Hello? Is anyone here? Byrrhus?”

Seemingly from nowhere came on old man’s voice. “Who are you? And how did you know my name?” It thundered through the ruins.

“I’m Colin, apprentice to Merlin, King Arthur’s chief advisor.” She ran back to the entrance and shouted, “Some-one’s here!”

In a moment Brit and Merlin joined her.

Merlin looked inside. “Where is he?”

“I heard his voice, but he’s hiding somewhere.”

Brit crossed the floor to where the fire was burning. “Byrrhus? Byrrhus, it’s me, Britomart.”

Startled, Merlin caught her by the shoulder. “You know him?”

“Knew him. When I was a girl. Where do you think I got the idea I could be a knight?”

“Why the devil didn’t you say so?”

She whispered, “He was half-crazy even then. I don’t know if he’ll remember me.”

“He remembers you.” The oldest man Nimue had ever seen stepped out from behind the altar stone. His hair was grey as steel; his face was severely wrinkled; his body was that of an athlete grown old. “You were a tomboy and a brat.”

“Byrrhus!” Suddenly excited, Brit ran and threw her arms around him. “You’re still alive!”

“More or less, yes. Get your hands off me. Knights should be more dignified.”

“Our innkeeper told us you’d gone completely insane.”

“By his lights, I suppose I am. I prefer living in the temple of Venus among squirrels and mice to keeping company with other human beings.”

Merlin stepped forward. “Your view of humanity is so sensible. I am Merlin. This is Colin.”

“I was about to roast some beef. Would you like some? And some wine?”

“We’ve just eaten some foul rabbit at Caesar’s Bones.” Brit hadn’t stopped smiling. It was the first real emotion Merlin had ever seen in her. “None of us ate very much. And a cup of wine would take the taste away wonderfully.”