He leant forward and began to speak in whispers, his libidinous lips moving quickly under the shadow of his cowl. The lad in bed seemed bewitched; he did not move or utter a word, but his eyes were full of sinister lights. Merlin watched him. Hate was beckoning to an unconfessed hate, bidding it show itself and come out into the open. He had guessed cunningly, and he had guessed well. Merlin saw a curious tremor pass through the King’s body. One hand crumpled up the quilt. “Good father, my heart burns in me. Have they not caused me to hate and to distrust?” It was he who spoke now—Merlin who listened. “I was sick in soul, and these lords stormed at me. It was a cunning plot. I see it now. And you—you charge these noble uncles of mine with treason?” Merlin spread his hands. “Whom does Fulk Ferrers serve? In whose forest has he been hidden all these years? The Duke of Lancaster should know the why and the wherefore.” “Traitor that he is! And Thomas of Woodstock—what of Thomas of Woodstock?” “Why has he hidden himself in Wales? To wait—and to watch. This woman, Isoult of the Rose, is his spy.” Richard sat rigid, white to the lips. “Good father, whom can a King trust?” “My hate, sir, is your hatred.” “This Fulk Ferrers?” “Can two Kings live? No peace will be yours while schemers have this puppet to play with.” Their eyes met, and a kind of leering hatred showed in them. Merlin drew his stool closer to the bed. He began to speak in eager whispers, and Richard listened and smiled. “Enough! You shall serve.” He began to whisper in turn. “These Lords of the Council have told me their plan. This Fulk Ferrers and the woman are to be hidden. Now I may guess the why and the wherefore.” “Speak, sir.” “They ride to-night.” “Whither?” “In Surrey I have a manor called the Manor of the Black Mere, a very secret place. The fellow is to grow a beard, and therefore he takes the woman with him that she may watch it grow.” He laughed, but Merlin’s eyes blazed. “Sir, God shall deal out justice.” “And I will deal out favour. Take this ring.” He slipped a ring off his finger, a gold circle set with diamonds and rubies, and with a signet attached—two “R’s” intertwined. “The white and red. This shall be your pledge and proof. I am the King. I will deal with traitors as I please.” Merlin rose up and crossed himself. “Sir, there shall be silence. All lips shall be sealed.” CHAPTER XXVIII London was asleep, a mere confusion of black roofs and spires without a lantern or a rushlight shining to mimic the stars; but at the Wardrobe torches were burning in the narrow courtyard within the gate. Five horses and a pad were waiting, and four archers stood in the shadow of the wall, leaning on their bows. Cavendish had mounted one of the horses. The porter was ready to unbar the gate.