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other."
       "I hope so, too, Britomart."

    And so things in England began to settle, at least on the surface.
    Guenevere and Lancelot, resigned to their confine­
    ment—at least for the time being—gave no signs of making more trouble. Captain Dalley, with covert assistance from Petronilla, monitored all their correspondence. He sus­ pected they must have plans, at least tentative, hopeful ones, but there was never any evidence.
       As the summer went on, Lancelot made several at­ tempts to escape his confinement—interestingly, without his "wife"—but was always captured and returned. On one occasion they even caught him dressed as a woman, trying to buy passage on a ship to France.
       Guenevere, on the other hand, seemed serenely resigned to life as a prisoner in Corfe Castle. To appearances, at least, she hatched no plots, schemed no schemes; she was a compliant and obedient prisoner.
       She made a point of trying to befriend Dalley. "You are an efficient, resourceful officer, John." She flirted; she flat­ tered. And she was dismayed when he remained aloof, a professional jailor.
       "You aren't being used well," she told him once. "You are a military leader, not a warden."
       "I still command the Corfe garrison—plus all the sol­ diers assigned here to the castle. And there will be more of them when the conference happens. My status has actually increased."
       "You are being wasted. A wiser monarch than Arthur would recognize your abilities and put them to better use."
       "I know of no wiser monarch than Arthur. He has Merlin to advise him."
       "You haven't traveled much, have you?"
       He laughed.
       "You are a handsome man, Captain. How is it that you have no wife?"
       "Don't waste your time trying to seduce me, Guene­ vere. I have no ambition to become a prisoner instead of a jailor."
       "But Captain—"
       "You already have two husbands, Guenevere. A third would be laughably redundant to everyone, even to the two you already possess."
       "Believe me, Captain Dalley, someday soon it will be my face on England's coinage, not Arthur's."
       "Then I must handle my money well, mustn't I?"
       She snorted to show her contempt for him and stormed out of the room. But she never let up, apparently convinced that her charms would win him over sooner or later.
       Meanwhile Petronilla kept giving him reports of the queen's other activities, very few of which came to any­ thing. But Dalley sent them all dutifully to Brit, along with his own reports on Guenevere's failed flirtations.

    And Brit dutifully read them and forwarded them to Arthur. With each one Arthur seemed to become sadder and more detached.
       Britomart never mentioned to Petronus that his sister had left France and was living in England, much less that she was living at Corfe Castle and was secretly in Arthur's service. He seemed to have no idea of either fact; as Petronilla had said, they weren't close. But Brit did not raise the least objection when Arthur detached the boy from her service and assigned him as an assistant to Merlin.

    Then, late one night, in the smallest hours of the morning, Merlin awoke. Restless, he walked to the window. Two of his ravens were sleeping there. They stirred and looked at him groggily, then closed their eyes again.
       He looked out across the main courtyard to see Arthur's rooms in the king's tower ablaze with light. It was unusual; given Arthur's mood—mad drinking—of late, he had been sleeping heavily and late, most mornings. Merlin even found lights mildly alarming. He got his cane and took the stairs down one level to Petronus's room, entered and shook the boy out of a sound sleep. "Petronus, I need you."
       Half-awake, the boy gaped at him. "Hmm? What time is it?"
       "Late. Late enough that everyone should be asleep. Except— Get up, will you?"
       Rubbing his eyes, Petronus did so. He had been sleeping under a down-filled