He clucked his tongue. “Really, Guenevere, you haven’t got the hang of diplomacy at all.”

“Nothing connected with Arthur is diplomatic. He is trying to starve me out of the country. I’ve had to ask my father for a loan.”

So that was what he was doing at Corfe-if she was being truthful. “How is your father? I don’t believe I’ve seen him.”

“He is not feeling well. He has gout, and moreover, ocean travel never agrees with him.”

“What a pity. But was that him we saw chatting with Lancelot and Mark last night?”

She glared and refused to rise to it. “What does my husband want? What new plan has he hatched for making me miserable?”

He had strung her out long enough. He leaned back in his chair and turned expansive. “A reconciliation.”

“A-? Are you trying to be funny?”

“I assure you I’m perfectly serious. You have an important birthday next autumn, I believe.”

“I turn forty, yes.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Arthur would like to make it a national holiday.”

For a moment she didn’t seem to know how to react. Then suddenly she burst into laughter. “Of all the grotesque jokes. I’ve only just turned thirty-nine, and he ignored the occasion completely. Really, Merlin.”

“I’m perfectly serious. And so is he.”

“Why would he want to celebrate my birthday? Is it so important to him to announce to the whole country how much younger he is than his wife?”

“I can’t vouch for his motives. But he wants to invite people from every court in Europe. It would boost England’s image internationally. But of course it would require your cooperation.”

She pretended to brush a gnat off her sleeve.

“Guenevere, did you hear me?”

“I did.” She examined her fingernails. “And I am properly impressed at Arthur’s cheek. Was this thing your idea?”

“The king has more than enough ideas of his own.”

She took a deep breath. “So Arthur needs me. And is willing to admit it.”

“For this, at least. What do you say?”

“I’ll have to think. And I’ll have to consult with my own counselors. And my father. It’s so fortunate he’s here just now.”

“And will you ask Mark?”

“Mark is gone.”

Trying to sound casual he asked, “What did he want here?”

“Foolishness.”

“Of what sort?”

“Is it possible Arthur does not know what his military commander gets up to?” She grinned like a predatory wolf in a children’s story. “You may tell Arthur I’ll consider his scheme. But I will need time.”

“We’ll have to start planning soon, you know. The invitations will have to go out by early spring. Arthur would like an answer as soon as possible.” He looked at her, wearing a mask of innocence. “Now, if you can.”

She stood. “I cannot. You may tell him I’ll take it under consideration. No more.”

“That is your final word?”

“For now, yes it is.”

“Very well, then. I’ll tell him. But he won’t be happy.”

She walked to the door then turned and grinned at him again. “If I don’t agree to go along with this-will it hurt him?”

“I expect so. And all of England-including you. You must understand, his ambitions are not for himself but for the country.”

“Yes. Of course they are. But does he really want the crowned heads of Europe to see what bumpkins inhabit this island?”

“That is not a proper sentiment for a queen of England.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t.” Her grin grew even wider. “Nevertheless…”

“Needless to say, the main festivities would be held here at Corfe. That means an influx of money. Impressing the rest of Europe would require that we put on the best face possible.”

She tried not to let her reaction show, but her eyes flashed for a second. “Precisely how great an influx?”

“That is open to negotiation.”

“Negotiating with Arthur. He would enjoy placing me in a position where that would be necessary.”

“From what I’ve seen, Guenevere, it may be necessary already.”

She flashed a politician’s smile. “When will you be leaving? ”

“Tomorrow, I imagine.” Quickly, he added, “With Your Majesty’s permission, that is.”

“The sooner, Merlin darling, the better.”

“I’m hungry. Can we get something to eat?”

Nimue and Pete ambled about the castle’s perimeter. Merlin had coached her in ways to draw the boy out, as he had Brit. Petronus seemed to enjoy talking; she expected it to be easy.

“I think the refectory’s closed.” He sounded slightly abashed by the fact.

“Really? At Camelot we eat all the time.” Quickly she added, “Eat and exercise. No one wants to grow fat.”

“Is the food good there?” He was a boy in his mid-teens; that much was quite clear.

“It’s quite wonderful. Succulent beef, aromatic breads of all kinds, the most wonderful honey cakes…” She grinned invitingly. “All the time.”

“Colin, I don’t much like it here.”

“Really?” She feigned surprise. “I’ve always thought Guenevere’s court must be wonderful.”

“She’s a tyrant. Or as much of one as she can be with no money. There’s nothing here, nothing interesting. And no room for advancement. My mother is an old friend of hers. She thought sending me here would ensure my future. Instead…” He looked away from her, apparently embarrassed.

“I didn’t get the sense you’re so ambitious, Petronus.”

“Is worrying about my future ambition, then?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’d… I’ve thought about leaving here. More than once.” He still avoided looking at her. “I want to go to Camelot, Colin. That’s where the future lies.”

She pretended this was unexpected. Slowly, deliberately, she said, “I’ll talk to Merlin about it.”

“Will he take me?”

“I think he might be persuaded. But… but you say there’s nothing here. Surely that can’t be true. We saw King Leodegrance last night. And King Mark of Cornwall was here. There must be room for an enterprising young man.”

“Leodegrance is Guenevere’s father. She’s borrowing money from him.”

“Things are that bad?”

He nodded.

“And what about Mark of Cornwall? He’s not in the business of lending money.”

“I don’t know. Whatever he wanted, he didn’t get it. There were arguments. He left angry and disappointed, I think. At least that’s the gossip.”

“Interesting.” She changed the topic. “Maybe we can walk down to the town and get something to eat there.”

“It’s getting late. I have duties. Polishing Lancelot’s armor. ” He sounded embarrassed.

“You work under Lancelot? Are you his squire? I didn’t know.”

“Mm-hmm. I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. He’s supposed to be training me for knighthood, but he uses me as a servant, nothing more. He likes to look good for his women, so I have to keep his armor gleaming.”

“Women? I thought he and the queen…”

“Yes. She thinks so, too. But he is unfaithful to her every chance he gets. Will you talk to Merlin for me?”

She assured him she would, and he went off to do his polishing.

The sunny day brought a great many people out in Corfe. The streets were crowded, and everyone seemed to be in a pleasant mood. This might be the last sweet day before winter settled in, and winter on the coast was harsh.

Brit and Lancelot strolled the streets, chatting idly. He kept trying to take her hand. She kept pulling away. It was annoying him, and he let it show.

But Brit refused to acknowledge his amorous interests. “It just struck me-the streets here aren’t paved.”

He frowned. “Should they be?”

“I had the impression the Romans paved roads wherever they went. Even a dreary backwater like London has streets paved with stone.”

“The Romans? That might as well have been a thousand years ago.”

The harbor opened up before them. Leodegrance’s ship and the frigate they’d seen earlier had been joined by another, from the looks of it North African, possibly Moroccan. Brit commented on the wide, lively trade that flourished in Corfe. “All Europe must come here, sooner or later.”