Chapter Text
In the days that followed it started looking like Elen’s prediction of him not lasting a week was coming true. King Arthur dismissed him at the end of the first day, having found his own manservant again, leaving George as just another servant in the large royal household. To him, it felt like a failure. He had done everything in his power to make sure that everything was done as it should be done, but it was like he was fighting against the tide. It was apparently not given to him to do his duties in a manner that was satisfactory to the king. Whatever he did, he was met with the commentary that Merlin did it differently.
When he had drawn the bath: ‘It’s not cold and it’s not boiling hot. What have you done with it?’
When he had helped to dress the king: ‘There are no holes in my shirt. How come?’
When he had eventually been allowed to serve breakfast: ‘Why isn’t there any bread? What am I supposed to do with all this fruit?’
When King Arthur went through his correspondence: ‘Have you written my speech yet?’
When he had thoroughly cleaned the room: ‘This doesn’t even look like my room anymore.’
When he had been asked to help the king into his armour: ‘It’s actually polished!?’
At his wit’s end he had tried to crack a joke. Evidently the king had not liked it, since he had sighed in what appeared to be exasperation and then he had left, muttering something about how George was the dullest servant he had ever met. George didn’t understand. Dull was good. Nobles expected their servants to be dull, but reliable. Nobles expected their baths to be warm, expected their clothes to be whole, expected their breakfast to be healthy, expected their servants to keep out of their private business – never mind writing their speeches – expected their rooms to be neat and tidy and had every right to expect that their armour was properly polished.
He supposed that it was the joke that had cost him his job, but clearly not for the reason he had expected. Apparently he was just too dull for the king’s taste. It had nothing to do with the impertinence of telling a joke. It had been one of his best too, about brass. He’d heard it in the household of one of the nobles he had served before he came here. The king’s sense of humour must be different.
He quickly found out that Elen at least had been right about one other thing as well: Merlin was still alive. Over the next couple of days he saw the servant running through corridors, before disappearing for a whole two days. He seems to spend most of his time in the tavern, the king had said. That at least was true, George supposed. He himself never frequented the kind of establishment that served ale until the one consuming it passed out. They weren’t respectable and he stayed far away from them, as was only wise. Merlin on the other hand spent more time there than serving his king. How could the king prefer such a strange servant over one that did everything he was supposed to do? It was far beyond George’s comprehension.
It all got even stranger when the king summoned him and asked him to take Merlin under his wing, to teach him how to be a good servant. George would not deny that he was honoured indeed. Maybe his services had not been as unwelcome as he had been led to believe. Maybe the king only preferred Merlin because he was familiar and because he had known him for quite some time. Maybe none of this was actually George’s fault. And maybe he could still leave his mark on the royal household, if only he taught this Merlin well. If he did that, his being here would not have been in vain. He had to admit there was a certain allure to the idea.
They started with George’s favourite lesson: polishing. He lectured Merlin about the need to make the one he served look well, because the state of the armour reflected on the one that wore it. If the armour looked well, the one that wore it would be more respected, because he looked so regal. He could see that his pupil was not interested though. Merlin’s attention was wandering and when he reached the part on how to polish, he spoke up. ‘Listen, George, I don’t want to insult you, but I do actually know how to polish armour.’
You wouldn’t say so, judging by the state of it. That was a thought he kept to himself though. ‘The king has instructed me to help you,’ he merely said. ‘I am doing as I am told.’
‘I got that impression,’ Merlin muttered under his breath. George had a feeling he had not been meant to catch that.
They set to polishing. Merlin took on the king’s armour while George demonstrated the various techniques he might find useful. He had a feeling he was wasting his time, though; even the walls paid more attention than Merlin. And all the while he looked like he had never polished one single suit of armour in his entire life. It didn’t surprise him all that much; the king’s armour looked like it hadn’t seen a good polish in ages and ages. What was so absurd was that he apparently got away with it. And for that amount of time as well. How long had he been in the king’s service? Five years?
‘I need to fetch a helmet,’ he said eventually, when he could no longer stand the sight. It was depressing and he felt like a failure all over again. What would the king do when it inevitably became obvious that Merlin was a lost cause, that there was nothing George could teach him? Would he lose his position in the royal household? Some might think that they would be promoted to the king’s manservant when it turned out that the current one couldn’t polish armour to save his life, but not George. He had been the king’s manservant, however briefly, and he had seen that this was not the way things worked here in Camelot. Everything in Camelot was different from the other households he had been in. It was depressing. He had been thinking about leaving, but he was no quitter. That was one of the things he would never do. So he just gritted his teeth, took a helmet from a shelf and walked back to where he had left Merlin.
He never reached the spot. He came close though, but something stopped him dead in his tracks. In fact, he was so shocked by what he saw that it was almost literally the case. This could not be true. He could not be seeing… well, this.
At first he was not even certain what this even was. All that he knew was that the suit of armour was hanging in the air, flying in the air, since nobody was actually holding it. And there was the rag, polishing the armour all by itself. Merlin, the one who was supposed to be doing the job that was now doing itself, was seated on the same bench where George had left him, scribbling away on a piece of parchment.
Magic. It took him a few seconds to find the right word. That was what happening here. But magic was outlawed. Merlin was the source of the magic. That was one thing that George was absolutely sure of. There was no one else here and Merlin did not seem to be shocked by the acts of magic taking place not three meters away from him.
George had never seen any magic himself. The households where he had worked had never been the target of any magical attacks. Of course he had known that the castle and the royal family were more of a target, but he had assumed that the servants would remain out of the danger zone. He had never expected to be actually confronted by it, certainly not by the king’s manservant.
Some would have screamed, but George was not the type for screaming. Others would have run to the king and reported the magic. That was something he could have done, but as it was, he wasn’t sure that the king wasn’t already aware of it. After all, everyone here seemed to be doing the exact opposite of what was expected of them. What was it again that Sarah had said that first day? He’d keel over dead if we did, Elen. We’d best let him work it out for himself. Besides, the boss would have my head if I told him and he’d blab it to the king. It seemed to suggest that the king didn’t know, but it also suggested that she was aware of what was the matter with Merlin, as did her friend. Who else knew? And why on earth did they act as if it was the most natural thing on earth?
George had thought some days ago that his world had been thoroughly turned upside down. Now he saw the error of his ways. The world hadn’t stopped making sense then, it stopped making sense right this very minute. What a strange place was this, where shabby servants were valued over organised and tidy ones and where magic was accepted by apparently everyone except the king himself? If there was a method to the madness that was Camelot, then he hadn’t figured it out yet. He doubted if he even wanted to figure this out.
So he did the only thing that he felt he could do; he walked out. The fresh air outside cleared his head a bit, but not as much as he wanted, or felt he needed. It was that he wasn’t a quitter, or he’d have been out of here already. As it was, he would at least need some time to clear his head and work out what to do.
He was hardly out or he literally bumped into Sarah the kitchen maid. She gave an indignant yelp, but then saw who it was that had almost walked her off her feet. ‘George!’ She studied his face. ‘You know,’ she concluded. ‘What was it? Did he forget where he was again and performed magic somewhere you could see it?’
For a moment George was too shocked to hear that she actually knew what the matter was – she didn’t need to mention Merlin’s name to make sure he knew of whom she was talking – to form a coherent sentence, but then he found his tongue again. ‘A suit of armour,’ he stammered. ‘It… it was… polishing… itself.’ He shook his head, as if by the force of that simple gesture he could rearrange his thoughts in such a manner that they would start to make sense. It didn’t work. ‘You know?’
‘Oh, aye, we all know,’ she nodded. ‘Sit down, you look like you’re going to keel over any second now.’
George was not the kind who needed help from a girl. Usually. Today he was only too happy to let Sarah guide him to a low wall and sit him down. He prided himself in knowing how the world functioned, but Camelot had thus far messed up everything he had thought he knew. In fact, he was thoroughly out of his depth.
‘How can you all know, Miss Sarah?’ He may be shocked, but he remembered his manners.
Sarah shrugged. ‘Well, he’s not exactly careful, is he? It’s like he’s asking to be seen. We all know in the kitchen, and the guards are all aware as well. Most of the servants know, too, which comes in pretty handy from time to time.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘We – Elen and I – think that some of the knights know more than they’re letting on, but we’re not entirely sure.’
‘And the king?’ George wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question, but it was one that needed asking. And what did it matter, really? His world had already been turned inside out.
Sarah shook her head. ‘Nope. He’s still oblivious. Probably for the best, too. I don’t think anyone really wants to find out how he would react to the news. You did not exactly take it well, did you?’ She gave him a pointed look.
George was not really in any position to argue the point. Besides, he was still too busy trying to wrap his head around the strange information he had just received. Apparently it was a fact commonly known around here that Merlin had magic and they all turned a blind eye to it. ‘But why, Miss Sarah?’ That was the logical question to be asked next. ‘Magic is against the law. We should report it.’
Sarah looked at him as if he had just suggested to go on a picnic with a troll. ‘Report him?’ she echoed. ‘And what would become of Camelot if we did that, eh? The king would probably be dead before the week was out. Who’d stop all the magical monsters and bad sorcerers if he wasn’t around?’
There was a tiny bit of realisation making itself known to George. It was only a tiny bit, though, not enough by far to really grasp the state of things. ‘Do you mean he’s not…’ He searched his brain for an appropriate word. What it came up with sounded rather lame though. ‘Bad?’ He supposed imagination and originality had never really been his strong points, hence the king’s assessment of him being dull.
‘Merlin? Bad?’ Sarah laughed in disbelief. ‘He couldn’t hurt a fly, never mind a human being. No, he’s been keeping the king safe for years. Not that he’s ever got as much as a thank you for his troubles, but that’s life. The knights always get the glory.’
George had trouble finding the right words to voice his next thoughts. ‘But magic is outlawed,’ he stated. ‘It’s against the law. It’s still illegal. Don’t you think the king has a right to know, Miss Sarah? We are here to serve the king, after all.’
Sarah smiled a knowing smile. ‘Well, since you’ve already worked out the truth for yourself, I might as well explain the rest to you. You see, we’re not here to serve the king.’
George was surprised to learn it. ‘We are not?’
‘We’re not,’ Sarah confirmed. ‘We’re here to serve the kingdom, not just the king. True, most of the time those things are quite the same, but not always. And you see, we don’t know what the king would do if he were to actually find out about Merlin’s magic, so we keep quiet about it, because the kingdom really can’t afford to lose him. We’d be overrun within the week by bandits, sorcerers, monsters… Take your pick. So, we actually need him. And therefore we keep quiet. We guard the secret, as it were. You really can’t tell the king, George.’
It was as if she had read his mind. ‘And what if I would? Tell the king, I mean.’ His brain was telling him this was the right thing to do. Magic was outlawed for a reason, and it were kings who made the laws, not the servants. Eventually the decision had to come from the king.
Sarah grimaced. ‘That’d be a shame,’ she said. ‘We had one like that about a year ago. In the guard, very promising, good-looking… ’ She trailed off. ‘Anyway, Allan, the head of the guards, knocked him over the head. To knock some sense into him, he said. The thing is, he now lives in one of the outlying villages, don’t know which one, but he’s still drooling and he can’t even remember his own name, they say.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘You don’t seem like a bad fellow. I’d hate to have to whack you over the head with the ladle.’
For a moment George felt like he was choking on his own tongue, shocked into silence. He had been starting to think he had seen it all. How wrong he had been. It turned out that when it all came down to it, he knew nothing at all. And now he was left with a rather simple choice, or that was what Sarah made it sound like: keep quiet or you’ll end up just like that poor sod who now doesn’t remember his name anymore.
‘You’d do that?’ he asked, hoping against hope that this was merely a joke. He had been told once he had no sense of humour to speak of, so he could just be missing the joke…
No such luck though. ‘Like I said, I’d rather not,’ Sarah replied. ‘I quite like you, but we’re all a little protective of Merlin here, so you’d better not make me choose.’ She stood up. ‘Oh, is that the time? I really must be getting on and so should you, I suppose. Rumour has it you’re supposed to give Merlin lessons in how to be a servant. Sounds like fun.’ She shot him a grin. ‘You should come to the kitchens tonight, give us a full report. We like gossip around here, you know.’
George could only stare. ‘But…’
‘You don’t gossip?’ Sarah asked, disappointed. ‘Shame. You should loosen up a bit, George, or you won’t last long around here. And, like I said, I like you.’
She was gone before George had the chance to think of a reply to that. He had a feeling there was no such thing as an appropriate reply to this anyway. So, what was he to do? Sarah had sounded rather serious and he did value his sanity. He had a lingering suspicion some of it had already been lost. But there wasn’t a lot of choice and so he forced himself to go back to the armoury.
Fortunately the armour was no longer being polished. Instead it was lying on the table, ready for his inspection. Merlin himself was still scribbling away on the scroll.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said when George came in. ‘All done and ready.’ He added a smile that could only be described as dazzling.
‘It is,’ George confirmed, eyeing the armour as if it was going to bite him. Where there any side effects to magic? He didn’t really know and he didn’t have the wish to find out. In fact, he was anxious to change the subject. Desperate to change the subject, so he wouldn’t have to think about magic and strange Camelot customs and servants that seemed to do the ruling without the king’s knowledge or consent. ‘What is that?’ he asked, looking at the parchment in Merlin’s hands.
The smile widened, if that was even possible. ‘Arthur’s speech,’ he announced. He either didn’t notice George’s shock at him addressing the king by his name instead of his title, or he pretended not to see it. ‘To the Guild of Harness Polishers.’ The smile became downright cheeky. ‘I’d say you and I know a lot about polishing, don’t we? And I’d rather think this needs a bit of a polish. May need to be a bit longer. We wouldn’t want to forget anything.’ He looked at George expectantly. ‘So, help me out here? After all, you’re supposed to help me to become a good servant…’
George’s normal reaction would have been to make a run for it, even though he didn’t usually do that. There were exceptions to every rule and Camelot was just too bewildering. But the fact remained that he didn’t run, and he did know a lot about polishing. Besides, he had made it his goal to raise Camelot’s standards, one way or another.
You should loosen up a bit, George, or you won’t last long around here. Running or giving in? It was a difficult choice, but in the end his intention of improving the castle’s standards won out. ‘That is true,’ he said.
Two years later he found himself in the kitchens, gossiping with the kitchen maids. ‘You know, that part about me whacking you over the head, that was a joke,’ Sarah informed him as she was for all intents and purposes attacking the dough.
‘Oh,’ George said. Much may have changed, but apparently his sense of humour had not improved. ‘And what about that other man, the one who doesn’t remember his own name?’ He had seen Allan, a big man with a lot of muscle. He wouldn’t put it past him to damage a man that badly. And he knew for certain that the serving staff of Camelot was deadly serious about guarding the secret and serving the kingdom, all in their own unique way.
Sarah casually tossed her hair to the other side. ‘His grave is just outside the city walls,’ she replied.
George didn’t dare to ask if that was a joke as well.