The Darkest Knight (Guardians of Camelot #3) - Victoria Sue Page 0,36

have your weapon back when you’re done.” It was said with amusement but not unkindness. He probably looked ridiculous with it anyway but carried on into the tent, and bowing low, he walked up to where Davidas had taken a seat with seven other knights, and put the goblet down, silently filling it.

No one remarked on him being there, and he waited while Davidas drained it, then refilled it, quietly standing to the back of the tent like he was waiting for another order. There were three other servants in the room, so it would be expected of him to stay, and remaining silent and unnoticed, he cautiously lifted his head to look around. He recognized both Uther from paintings and Arthur immediately, even younger as he was, and he watched as Marcus—presumably Sir Marcus—entered the tent and sat down next to Davidas.

“I do not understand what he hoped to accomplish,” Arthur said. “Merlin has been asked to question him and is on his way.”

“What exactly happened?” Davidas asked, glancing back, and Kay sprang forward to refill the goblet again. Platters of food appeared, put down by serving girls, and Kay’s stomach groaned. Would they feed him? Davidas had said they would.

“We don’t know. The guard I know, and both swear no one came near the tent. One minute the sword was here, and the next the man was holding it.” The knight shook his head. “His Majesty had just put it to one side for tending, but we were all here and would have seen a stranger approach. We are thinking some sorcery.”

“That is ill news,” Davidas responded. “Has the thief given any answers?”

“None yet.” The growl came from the man who just strode into the tent. Kay shrank back in alarm, but Mordred didn’t even notice him. Mordred seated himself, and another servant rushed forward with wine. “I’m sure I was nearly there with him. Five more minutes—”

“Five more minutes and he would only be telling his story to the gods.”

Kay hid his shock as in walked Merlin. He knew Merlin hadn’t met him in this time. Hell, he wasn’t due to be born for another three years.

Mordred’s eyes flashed. “I am convinced he is a Roman agent.”

Uther scowled. “Surely they would just invade. I don’t see the point in them sending assassins.”

“What makes you think he is Roman?” Davidas asked Mordred.

“His speech. He tries to hide an accent, but it’s there.”

“Not any Roman one ever encountered by all accounts,” Merlin argued, “but he isn’t going to be telling any secrets if he is dead.”

“When was the attempt made, sire?” Davidas asked Uther.

“Technically,” Merlin interrupted, “he didn’t try and murder anyone, just steal the sword.”

“Then why on earth would he want the sword to kill Uther?” Mordred snapped.

Kay froze. The sword? Uther’s sword? His heart picked up a rhythm. It had to be Charles, but how had he gotten here so quickly?

“One doesn’t follow the other,” Merlin reasoned. “If he wanted to kill the king, a concealed knife would be of more use.”

“You’re sure he wanted the sword?” Arthur said slowly, and Merlin nodded. “He was found holding it.”

“I think,” Uther Pendragon said, “we should have him brought here and see what he has to say to me.”

“Sire.” Marcus rose in alarm. “What if he does have magic?”

Uther smiled. “If he had magic, he wouldn’t have been caught, and I have Merlin to protect me. Merlin, you had better stand in front of me lest he should magic a weapon.”

Merlin snorted his disgust, and even Marcus smiled. Uther was well over six feet tall, and Merlin was considerably less. Kay shook his head helplessly, dread sitting cold in his insides. He was without his sword, and all the knights were experts.

“How many losses did we have today?” Uther looked at Mordred.

“Acceptable,” Mordred replied callously. “The Saxons were firmly routed, and I think it will be a while until we see them attempt another.”

Uther’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t think they will rise up tomorrow? I thought today was just a foray by a small scouting party.”

Mordred shook his head. “There were at least fifty lance, and more on foot. I think the thrashing we gave them sent them scurrying.”

Uther turned to Davidas. “Do you agree?”

Davidas hesitated, then shook his head. No one missed the flash of anger on Mordred’s features. “No, sire,” Davidas said. “I think today was designed to tempt complacency. They had little skill, and at our first response most chose to run. They were too many