Chapter 16

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Chapter 16

Arthur was sitting against the side of the cage, thinking.  It was dark now.  They had been in there, trapped in a wooden cage, for hours.  In the glow of the campfire, he could see at least a dozen large men guarding him and King Ulrik.  The ruler of Vallonia had not spoken a word ever since their capture.  He had only winced when Arthur had wrapped his burnt arm in a bandage made with his own red cape.  Now the old man was starring blankly at the tent in which he knew that the son who had deserted him was planning his death.  Of all his misfortunes, Arthur was happiest for the fact that he was not in the king’s position, nor in Bryan’s.

There had been no news about Prince Odran’s capture, or Merlin’s.  Arthur could only assume, and hope, that both of them were unaccounted for.  They might have escaped; with Merlin’s usual dumb luck, it was possible.  He always seemed to escape the most dangerous situation with unthinkable randomness.  Just the fact that he had survived by Arthur’s side many times and without armor was barely believable but he was, after all, a sorcerer’s son.

The heir to Camelot’s throne pushed back the dark thought.  Twenty years ago, during the purges, Merlin would have been burned to the stake alongside his father without further considerations.  Arthur had often wondered if he would have been able to condemn so many to death as his father had.   The question always left him shaken and without an answer.  Somehow he knew each time there was such an accusation made in Camelot that he was hiding under the fact that he was doing his father’s bidding.  It wasn’t cowardice; it was honoring his father.  One day, the decision would fall to him.  But could he condemn Merlin to death?  Certainly, that would be just… wrong.

Don’t think about that, he told himself.

What he had failed to ask the physician, and perhaps it was the most important question of all, was whether or not Merlin knew who Emmerich was.  After all, there had been no signs.  Merlin had merely said that he looked familiar.  But Emmerich’s being a sorcerer, that was something that Arthur had not expected and he was therefore not prepared to deal with such a notion.  The man was a court physician and a personal friend of King Ulrik.  Vallonia was far beyond the reach of Camelot.  Who was he, Arthur Pendragon, to condemn this sorcerer?  What wrong had he done?  And was Merlin to share his father’s fate?  Was Merlin guilty of anything, if only of blindness for not seeing the resemblance?  Was revealing Emmerich necessarily condemning Merlin as well?  Could he sentence Merlin to die, if it came to that?

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed against his own nature, against the kind of king that he wanted to be and just entirely… wrong.  

“You cannot break this cage,” murmured King Ulrik.

Arthur had barely noticed that he had been pulling at the bars while deeply absorbed in his own thoughts.  

“It’s enchanted,” continued Ulrik in a hoarse voice.  “My son’s magic is powerful.”

Arthur’s mind returned to where he was.  There were still many men guarding their wooden prison, but they looked less alert in their leader’s absence.  Some of them were walking around aimlessly in and out of the dark woods.    

“These aren’t Duids,” Arthur mumbled so that only the king could hear.  “These are thugs.”

King Ulrik’s reply was a sneer.  “Bryan doesn’t need magic to get men to follow him.  Only… gold.”

The bitterness in the king’s voice was unmistakable.  Arthur was keen to change the subject.

“Well, let’s just hope that Emmerich’s magic can brake through his chains.  You know him better.  How powerful is he?”

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