A fat merchant pushed his way past them, stepping on Nimue’s foot, and disappeared into the crowd. She glowered after him. “Are you really certain that’s what you want to be?”

“Who do they represent, these Frenchmen you met?” Merlin made his inquiry with a smile. “What part of France do they hail from?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask.” Petronus was mildly embarrassed.

“You do not have the makings of an intelligence officer. I wonder if you are really suited to any kind of government service-except possibly the military.”

A look of alarm spread across the boy’s face; he seemed to have no idea he was being kidded. “Please, Merlin, do not give me to the knights. Service with Lancelot was enough to convince me that-”

“I am only joking, Petronus. You have already made yourself so helpful to me.”

Relief showed. “Thank you, sir. Can I buy some more cakes?”

Merlin sighed. “Perhaps I spoke too soon. But I am hungry, too.”

This amused Nimue. “We already have some. Here.” She handed him a bun. “That carefully constructed public image of yours-the wise man impatient with human weakness-always vanishes when your appetites take over, doesn’t it?”

“Be quiet.”

“Look. There’s a nice inn in the next street. Why don’t we try there?”

“Yes. But first I want another cake.”

Nimue was about to make another wisecrack about Merlin’s appetites, but he shot her a warning glance and she kept quiet.

To Merlin’s disappointment, all the inns in Dover were full to capacity. After they tried five of them, he announced, “Not even the king’s gold can open their doors to us. I suppose we will have to stay at the garrison after all.”

Petronus was still eating breads and cakes. “Suppose they’re full up, too?”

“We are high officials of the king. They will have to make room for us. If need be, some of the soldiers can double up.”

“Two soldiers to a bed.” Nimue was wry. “Like ancient Sparta.”

“It may not come to that. There may be sufficient room. Still, I would prefer not to stop there. That will make it too easy for Arthur and Britomart to find me, for whatever crisis may arise this week. But it seems we have no choice.” A passing juggler bumped against him, and he winced in pain, then scowled. “At least the soldiers will be disciplined enough to behave properly.”

“Oh, yes.” She could not hide her amusement. “No place bespeaks manners and decorum like a barracks room.”

“Stop being disagreeable, Colin.”

Petronus was eating his seventh cake. “The commander here is named Captain-Captain-?”

“Commander Larkin. I have met him at court but I do not know him at all well. Colin has corresponded with him a number of times.” He looked at her. “What is your impression of him?”

She shrugged. “Solid. A military officer. A bureaucrat. There has never been the least flash of wit or irony in any of his communiqués, and certainly no imagination. So he is either very discreet or very dull.”

“Splendid.” Petronus wrinkled his nose. “The weather is so gorgeous. Why don’t we sleep out of doors?”

“Are you joking?” Merlin was tart. “If I spend the night on the ground and waken wet with dew, I will be so stiff you will have to carry me home on a litter.”

And so they made their way to the fort. It sat at the edge of one of the cliffs, overlooking the harbor and commanding a magnificent view of the English Channel. Merlin handed Petronus one of his ingenious viewing devices, a set of lenses supported in a wooden tube. “There.” He pointed. “Your homeland, Petronus.”

The boy took the device and held it to his eye. “I can’t honestly see a great deal. It’s a pity you haven’t been able to make these any more powerful.”

“In time, Petronus. Science and knowledge tend to advance slowly.” He stumbled on a small rock and winced with pain. “Like myself.”

In a few minutes they reached the gate of the fort and knocked. A sentry admitted them and asked them to wait there.

As it turned out, Commander Larkin was away on “official business”; Merlin did not bother to inquire what that meant. They were greeted by his lieutenant, an Irish sergeant named Ewan McGovern. “Merlin. We’ve heard so much about you here. And Colin. We all know your names so well. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Merlin introduced Petronus and explained that they needed a place to stay for the duration of the festival.

“I’m afraid we’re rather crowded in here.” Ewan smiled, apparently embarrassed. “But I think we can find you rooms. If you’ll only be patient for a few moments while we rearrange the living quarters…?”

“Of course. Please, take your time. We do not wish to be more of a burden than is avoidable.”

He vanished, then a few minutes later reappeared to install them in a suite of rooms against the back wall of the garrison. A window overlooked cliffs and the Channel; and a huge fire roared in the hearth. Then he proceeded, happily for everyone concerned, to leave them on their own.

Nimue sighed deeply. “I was afraid he’d feel obligated to entertain us. Which would have meant telling us all his soldier’s stories. You know how the Irish are.”

“Indeed. But as long as he keeps us warm, dry and well fed, I see no reason to complain.”

Petronus ignored all this. “I wonder if I might meet some nice girls here,” he chirped.

“Nice girls?” Merlin sounded incredulous. “In Dover? Like every port town everywhere, it is ridden with whores. And the ones here are notorious for leaving their clients with unexpected souvenirs of their coupling. Britomart always calls them ‘fire ships.’ She insists the men of the garrison be lectured about avoiding them once every month by a physician who is also charged with examining them.”

“The women are earning a living, Merlin.” Nimue was quite serious. “And a poor enough living, at that, I imagine. In a city this full of people, all interacting merrily, the spread of disease is inevitable. Singling out one segment of the population-”

“That is enough.” Merlin turned uncharacteristically stern. “I was not attempting to ‘single anyone out.’ I merely want to warn Petronus that the friendly girls he meets here might have ulterior motives.”

His enthusiasm punctured, Petronus sulked. “According to you, sir, everyone has ulterior motives.”

“And so they do, Petronus. So they do.”

The festival continued for two weeks. Every day more and more revelers arrived, and more and more vendors sprang up-“like toadstools,” Merlin said-to sell them food, drink, clothing and everything else conceivable. Wine and ale were everywhere. The press of the crowds in the streets was increasingly unpleasant for Merlin, and exhilarating for his young companions.

An engineer from London came and set up a mechanical roundabout, and people lined up in large numbers to take a ride. Petronus stood in line for hours and did not want to ride alone, but he was not able to convince either Merlin or Nimue to join him. “I am dizzy enough, from the crowds and the wine,” Merlin told him. “Apparently you are not.”

“You ride that mechanical lift of yours often enough.” Petronus sulked; his fun was being cramped.

“And if this contraption could help me bypass a long flight of stairs, I would ride it, too.”

Nimue complained that she was gaining weight as a result of all the food at the festival.

Merlin told her in a low voice, “Relax, Colin, no one cares how fit or otherwise a scholarly boy may be. If you start acting like a vain girl, you will give the game away.”

As the days passed, Merlin spent more and more time in their quarters, reading and avoiding the crowds quite pointedly.

“Come out with us,” Nimue implored him on the festival’s next-to-last day. “This will be over soon. You won’t have another chance.”

“I am quite content here, thank you. I have procured a lovely manuscript of poems by Catullus, Theocritus and Tibullus from a bookseller in town.”