Merlin: The Light of Eriador

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Pretending that he was still hurt wouldn’t be so difficult.  He still had the deep gash on his left side, which was throbbing enough to slow his pace as he walked through the many corridors and stairs of the castle.  When he opened the door to Arthur’s chambers, he was glad to see that the prince had not left yet.  He was struggling awkwardly with the fastenings of his armour.

“Finally.  I was about to send for Gwen to help me with this.”

He glanced at Merlin and he seemed to appraise his outward appearance.

“By the way, don’t even think about coming with us.  You’re in no shape to ride, let alone stand your ground in a fight.”

The prince looked impatient and so Merlin took over speedily.  Helping Arthur put on his armour had become second nature.  He didn’t even have to think about it and he could carry a conversation at the same time, which at the present time suited his purpose.  

“You can’t go hunt down those Druids,” he said without preamble.

“I suppose you have some perfectly clear explanation as to why that is, as you usually do,” replied the prince sarcastically.

Merlin kept a serious tone.  “That was some powerful magic.  Gaius said that they are after revenge.  People like that will stop at nothing.  We don’t even know why they are in Camelot.  Wouldn’t it have been easier for them to attack King Ulrik’s party while they were on the road?”

The prince turned to face him and he had that arrogant smirk on his face.

“That’s actually not a bad assertion for a half-wit, Merlin.”  

“Then don’t go.  Try to find out more about those Druids first.”

Arthur shot him one of his most condescending looks.  “What never ceases to amaze me, Merlin, is that you always forget that I am the heir to the throne.  Our king and our knights have been attacked, not to mention our guests, and you would have me stay here to investigate?  You may have that luxury, but I don’t.”

Arthur turned towards the window for a moment.  Merlin looked over his shoulders and saw the courtyard filled with green-clad knights and servants of Vallonia, all of them standing around in the pouring rain.  King Ulrik was recognisable by the fur around his hood.  He was speaking low into the ear of a man with a brown tunic and thick black hair.

“Who’s that?” asked Merlin.

“That,” answered Arthur, “is King Ulrik’s physician Emmerich, and you owe him your life.”

The young warlock puckered his face to try and get a better look of the man through the curtain of rain, but his impression remained unclear.  There was a certain familiarity, but nothing more.

“Haven’t you noticed it?”

Arthur was staring at him meaningfully.

“What?”

“Emmerich!  Doesn’t he look familiar?”

“I… err…  I wasn’t exactly in a position to get a good look at him.  You know, being passed out and all that.”

Arthur sighed and then he spoke quietly.  “There’s something about him.  He reminds me of someone.  What I can’t put my finger on is who.”

Merlin had the same impression, therefore he did not argue.  The physician Emmerich was the least of his concerns at the moment, regardless of Gaius’ warning that he may have magic.  He would try to get a better look at the face later, but right now he was only worried about Arthur.  He worried that the prince was leading the Knights of Camelot into a conflict that was both beyond his understanding and dangerous.