Sword of the Rightful King by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online

thing Arthur had never been lacking in was charm.
    â€œYou must listen, Arthur. It is important.” Merlinnus only used the kings name when he needed to make a point. But this time his use of it was of little consequence. Arthur was vigorously shaking his head.
    â€œMore important than your dream, my friend, is the news I have just had. A messenger from...”
    Merlinnus put a finger to his temple and intoned in broad Scots, “The de’il lies in the Orkneys stirring her potions wi’ a lang spoon.”
    For a moment Arthur looked nonplussed. Then he smiled again. “You met the messenger in the hall.”
    Merlinnus smiled back.
    â€œWell—you are my adviser, Merlinnus. Advise me.”
    â€œThe North Queen sends assassins like spring rain,” Merlinnus said. “That does not mean the crops grow any faster or truer.”
    Arthur leaned forward and growled. “You know I hate that kind of thing. Talk straight, old man. Do you mean you are not worried that one of her sons—whom we must accommodate, as they are highborn lords—will try to kill me while they are here?”
    â€œNo, I am not unduly worried about them.” But he was. He knew he could keep an eye on one boy. Gawaine had been easy to watch. But the messenger—and Arthur—had said “sons.” He could not remember how many Morgause had. She bred like a bitch—one litter after another. “Who is she sending?”
    Arthur counted them on his fingers. “Gawaine will be returning. And his next-oldest brother, Agravaine. Then the twins, their names begin with a
G
. I cannot remember.”
    â€œTwins...” Merlinnus was suddenly disturbed. Twins could be a problem. In magic, anything out of the ordinary troubled deep waters. If they looked alike, spoke alike...
    â€œThe youngest, Medraut, has remained at home.”
    â€œJust as well,” the old wizard replied. “Four of that brood will be plenty.”
    â€œ
Should
we worry?” Arthur asked. “About Orkney dirks on a dark night, or a sword in the belly during a mock fight or—”
    â€œNot you,” Merlinnus said. Meaning that he would do the worrying for both of them. He climbed the steps to the throne.
    Arthur sighed and leaned back again. But his eyes were still steel and his mouth had thinned down to a knife’s edge.
    A guard opened the door and looked in. When he saw Merlinnus bending close to Arthur, he shut the door without being told.
    â€œNow, about that sword in the stone—it is important for you to listen, Arthur,” Merlinnus said.
    â€œI have already spent most of the morning sitting here on this hard chair listening to important things,” Arthur answered. “Or at least things that are important to the people who are doing the speaking. Merlinnus, you never told me that being a king was three parts ear to one part mouth.”
    â€œIf I had, you would never have taken the job,” muttered the old man into his tangled beard. He knew Arthur was a man for action, had been since a boy. “The Whirlwind” had been his nickname at Sir Ector’s castle. The joke was that Arthur had never met a chair he liked. Or a sport he disliked.
    â€œMost of the morning gone,” Arthur continued, “and I will have an aching head from it for the rest of the day. What kind of job is this for a king?” Arthur’s right hand closed into a fist. “I want to be out hunting deer. I want to take my sword and right wrongs. But instead I sit all day on this thing.” He banged his fist on the wooden arm. “This hard chair. And I listen.”
    Merlinnus nodded. “The ear is the seat of governance.”
    â€œThere you go again!” Arthur shook his head. “I sit with my bottom, Merlinnus; I hear with my ear. And what I hear from you is too hard to parse. It reminds me of Latin. And speaking of Latin, the first thing I had to deal with this morning