"You were uncharacteristically quiet," Arthur said to Myrddin, as they were led up the stairs to the guest rooms.
"I wanted to see how you'd handle it," replied the wizard, "I can't help you in everything, you know."
"I know."
"Besides that, I have had a terrible feeling about this place, from the moment we came in. There is something familiar to my senses." Myrddin looked around, as if expecting something to spring out of the thick stone walls.
Arthur tried himself to sense what the magician sensed, using what lessons he had had. But he felt nothing, aside from grim foreboding. "What is it you sense?" he asked, softly.
"I'm not sure," Myrddin responded, "it is just familiar in some regard I cannot place." The wizard smiled somewhat bitterly. "Of course, my wizard senses aren't quite as sharp as they used to be. Perhaps it is just me reacting to the all-too real misery of this place."
"Will you be trying to find out, once the rest of us sleep?" Arthur asked, his voice low.
"No," replied the wizard, "because that won't be necessary. You have another in the castle, King Arthur. I suspect he is better in this case than I."
Arthur decided it was best to not ask aloud who was within the castle. The guards escorting them were far, and reception had been so chilly he suspected there was a concerted attempt to ignore him, but nonetheless. "How much danger are we in?"
"Quite a lot, but I don't believe it is anything you can't handle." The wizard smiled at him. "Just be ready for anything, as ever."
Arthur nodded. Ahead, the two guards stopped. "Here is King Arthur's room, he gets one of his own," said the lead. "Your retainers will have to share."
"Two rooms, split between the boys and girls," Lady Cei interjected, crossing her arms. "It isn't proper otherwise, you know."
Both guards gritted their teeth, almost simultaneously. "Fine."
"And near each other, of course," Gwen declared. She pointed to the rooms on either side of Arthur's. "That one, and that one would be best, of course."
"Do you speak for your King, wench? Because we do not take orders from a lord's kept woman."
"She speaks for me," Arthur said, scowling. "Do not be so presumptuous, and watch your tongue."
The soldier blinked, flushed. "Apologies, I think the drink has gotten the better of me." He started to rub his head.
"You only had a glass, you milk drinker," the other grunted.
Arthur could see something twitch under the man's eye, teeth gritting together, he could almost hear the grind. Eventually, the man turned and stormed away, followed by his companion, who didn't even look back.
"Something is rotten here," Gwen said beside him, still looking a bit stunned.
"You sure you feel safe being alone, your highness?" Balin asked, watching the two as they walked away.
"I have no intention of letting my guard down," Arthur replied, 'King Macbeth can hardly kill me without drawing the eye of people more willing to take him down. Not that he'd be able to succeed if he tried."
"Sleep with one eye open then?" Balin asked gruffly.
"That," Arthur agreed, "and I want you all to take turns watching the hall. Guard shifts."
"And I," Myrddin said, "will keep an eye out in a more complicated fashion. I can go a night without sleep easily enough, after all." The wizard smiled thinly. "It will also give me time to try and understand the feeling this place gives me, and why it is so familiar."
"Something beyond human experience, no doubt," Balin grunted, "though frankly I've just been on edge the whole time. Like I keep seeing a sworn enemy. It's disconcerting."
"I'll take the first watch, then," Gwen said, her firm voice ending all arguments.
Arthur's room was comfortable enough, with a bed with sheets of silk and a mattress stuffed with goose-feathers. There was a desk and oak chair, and an ancient rug from another world spread on the ground, its pattern simple. He sat cross legged on the rug, set his sheathed sword on his lap, and attempted to concentrate. There was something rotten here, and sometimes he could parse things out just by following the techniques Myrddin had taught him.
But any endeavor to fall into the trance was broken by a light knock on the door. Arthur opened his eyes. The knock continued, the code he and Gwen had agreed on so long ago, when they had first met, when they had first become lovers. "Come in, Gwen," he said.
She opened the door, and entered, pulling back her hood. Walking beside him, she sat down on the rug. "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight," she admitted.
"I suspect even if we did, we'd be awoken by some dark happening," Arthur replied. He almost put an arm around Gwen, but Dagonet's warning echoed in his brain. He and Gwen making contact usually turned romantic very quickly.
"Everything feels so on edge," Gwen agreed. She leaned back a little. "You know King Macbeth's reputation, I assume."
"I do. I suspect with a High King he'd be tried properly. At present, there isn't much I can do, with Chaos building up and all."
Gwen scowled at him. "Why not? You are High King, Arthur, and it is on the way."
"Do you propose I kill him?" Arthur asked. "He isn't actively doing a crime against the realm, like King Tewdrig. King Duncan, by all accounts, holds alliance with him, has accepted him as the proper lord of this land. I don't care for him, or for how he got there, but…"
Gwen gave him a firm, measuring look. She always seemed to see right through him.
Arthur smiled, ruefully. "I can't make any excuses, can I? If King Macbeth gives me reason, I will challenge and destroy him, as befits a Knight and King."
With a sigh, Gwen leaned her head on his shoulder. "I know. This place is going to get bad soon, I think. My worry is your honor will demand you hold steady until it is too late."
"Honor and law is what separates wicked rulers from good rulers," Arthur said, trying not to feel the warmth emanating from Gwen's skin. Now was not the time. "It is a difficult thing," he continued with a sigh.
"I am here for you. I always am."
Before Arthur could respond, there was another knock on the door, a quick rap of knuckles. "King Arthur." A woman's voice. "May I?"
Gwen pulled away from him, rising to her feet. "Lady Macbeth," she said simply, "this as well, you will have to play how you will. I'll be close." She walked toward the large cupboard, and slipped inside.
"Gwen," Arthur whispered after her, not sure what to say.
"I support whatever you chose to do, Arthur," she replied, and closed the door behind her.
With a sigh, Arthur walked to the door of his room and opened it. "Milady," he said, bowing a little.
Lady Macbeth stood in the door frame, still in her dress, still strikingly beautiful. She smiled up at Arthur. "Thank you, your highness, for speaking with me. May I come in?"
"I am alone, as are you," Arthur replied, "and you are married. It doesn't seem proper."
She pushed forward a little, so she was just brushing against him. "My husband is hardly my husband, my lord. We never consummated the match, and though it has been accepted by King Duncan, I know for a fact such a matter is essential for a marriage. Grounds for divorce, even."
"If you intend to sue for divorce," Arthur said carefully, "I'd be happy to help you."
She was inside the room in an instant, reaching out and closing the door. Arthur was a bit taken aback, she was practically pressed against him. "Thank you," she whispered excitedly, "you are most kind, my lord."
Arthur reached out his hands, taking her by the shoulders. He expected to try and push her away, and she'd accept his gentle action, but she melted even closer, he was unwilling to exert much strength. "Milady," he said, firmly.
She pressed closer, and Arthur felt his legs start to move back towards the bed.
"This isn't necessary," he said, steadying his breathing. "I will help you, Lady Gruoch, I swear on my knight's code, but I will not betray even an illegitimate marriage."
She looked up at him, her eyes sharp and lovely. Arthur could feel himself reacting, even as he didn't want himself to. He felt slightly ill. "You are bigger than my first husband," she said, smiling. "In height, in build, and in a certain fine quality."
Arthur felt something hard being pressed into his hand. He ripped his gaze away from her beautiful eyes.
"You say you will not take me to bed until my current sham marriage is ended. Then end it, my lord, with your own bloody hand."
"That isn't what I said," Arthur said coldly, even as he gazed on what she had placed in his hand. It was a long dagger, a dirk designed for the battlefield, for slitting throats and impaling hearts. Set in the pommel was a glowing red gem.
"Take the dagger," she said, quivering in his arms, "go to King Macbeth's room, and drive it into his heart. I'll be waiting here, once you are done."
The dagger was pressed so close, Arthur was afraid to let it go. "No," he said, calmly, "I do not murder, milady."
"You are yet young," she responded, "you don't fully understand. You won't be able to simply challenge Macbeth to a proper duel, if he gets a whiff of that, he will set his dogs on you. He is willing to murder, he will get his hands properly bloody. You can't win, unless you meet him on his own."
"He is welcome to try and murder me," Arthur declared, "for if he does that will relinquish him all protections. I am young, yes, but I am a skilled warrior, and I have an understanding of the Code Chivalric."
But Gruoch's eyes flashed red and angry. "The Code, you say? You don't need the damned Code! If you're going to blunder about and not help until it is too damned late, well, I guess I'll have to make you a man first!" With surprising strength, she began to push Arthur towards the bed.
Arthur felt a sensation of absolute shock. Lady Gruoch hardly seemed like herself, and her strength was inhuman. She was inhumanly beautiful in this moment as well, and Arthur had no desire to hurt her even now, but he was stunned with indecision. Even the dagger in his hand forestalled him from action, if he moved wrong he'd impale her deep.
Suddenly, Lady Gruoch was pulled off him. She yelled in surprise, and started to struggle, but Gwen gripped her tight. She had emerged from the cupboard and was wrestling the woman away. "He said no, Lady," Gwen snapped, "we want to help but you are acting like a fool!"
After a moment, Gruoch went limp in Gwen's arms. Arthur watched in confusion for a moment. Her eyes were no longer bright and almost red, but a more ordinary blue. She looked confused, shaking in the younger woman's arms. "What did I do?" she asked, her voice hollow. "I just wanted to talk."
Arthur put down the dagger, his heart slowing down. "We can talk," he said gently. He walked to the two. "There is something rotten here indeed, isn't there?" he asked.
*****************
With a horrible squelching sound, the guard drove his dagger into the other man's face. "Milk drinker! You call me a milk drinker!" the man screamed. "You miserable oaf, I won't take your insults anymore."
His dagger rose and fell, again and again, blood gouted like a fountain. Already the stone was deeply stained, and he was kneeling in a pool of blood and gore. "Never again," he rasped, "never again will my manhood be so disparaged." The knife came down again, cutting apart the right eye.
Unrecognizable now, the guard rose slowly to his feet, gripping his gore-stained knife in his now blood red hand. "No more," he whispered, "no more. I am a man, and I won't take any of this anymore."
He turned down the hall, remembering a million grudges, insults, and targets. His hands dripped gore onto the floor as he walked. His eyes were empty, bright, and red.
And bloody was his hand.
