“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.