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Merlin stepped into the kitchen, taking in the smiling servants as they talked happily to each other and the few children that worked at the castle laughing and playing as they sat near one of the fireplaces as they ate.
It was such a contrast to the way things worked in Cenred’s castle. Merlin remembered in the early days of his forced servitude how he would wait in the food line, chains on his ankles and wrists. There were no smiles in that kitchen, no laughter or excitement in the faces of the children. There was only fear and empty resignment as they all cowered in fear of the guards that stood along the wall with their whips in hand. The snap of corded leather was a sound Merlin would never forget...
The kitchen was loud and bustling as it always was in the mornings as the servants trickled in to break their fast. The noise was a welcome distraction from Merlin’s dark thoughts as he walked in and grabbed a bowl, joining the line behind one of the pages.
“Merlin, is that you?”
Merlin turned around, and the young laundress named Marsilia smiled at him. “I thought that was you.” She said in a melodic voice that was fitting of her aspiration to become a minstrel for the court. “Get tired of Gaius’ cooking?” She teased, knowing just as well as he did that the cook’s gruel didn’t hold up to the physician’s porridge.
He chuckled, relaxing at the normal exchange that was nothing like the tense conversations he’d had with Arthur and the others over the week. Here he was still Merlin, just Merlin and no one else. “Not quite.” He told her. “Just needed some more roughage in my diet.” He joked as they stepped forward in the line.
She laughed, and the girl doling out the gruel greeted Merlin cheerfully as she ladled the thin mixture into his bowl. He returned the salutation and shuffled forward as the bowl grew slightly warm in his hands, chasing away some of the lingering chill of his nightmare. They had bread that morning, so Merlin took his slice before moving to find a spot to sit down.
Marsilia followed him, calling good morning to those already seated at the table they chose. The young men immediately answered back while the others laughed at their earnest reactions. Marsilia was a fair maiden and attracted the attention of many in the castle’s employ.
They dug into their breakfast, Merlin listening contently to the peaceful chatter filling the room.
“So, Merlin. You know anything about that Leofwin guy that showed up a couple days ago?” Someone asked after a while.
Merlin’s eyes immediately snapped up to the chamberlain across from him. The man, whose name was Hamblin, resembled Will so closely that sometimes Merlin had a hard time working past the lump in his throat to talk to him. But this morning, it was no problem as the topic of conversation immediately captured his full attention. He still didn’t know enough about Leofwin, but he knew he didn’t trust him, and if Hamblin was asking, it was likely that he had noticed something off about the man as well. Hamblin wasn’t one for gossip, so if he brought up the subject, it wasn’t just to fish for tidbits of information to share with the other servants.
“I know that he came to procure an invitation for Regsnaw’s king to visit Camelot.” He answered carefully. It wasn’t like he could voice his suspicion without any proof. If it got back to Arthur somehow, it would only complicate matters unnecessarily at the moment.
Hamblin nodded, swallowing a bite of his bread before speaking again. “He stopped me in the hall yesterday afternoon, wanted to know if I’d ever heard of some knight that used to serve under Uther.”
Merlin’s brow furrowed some, and he looked down at his gruel as he stirred it around. “The knight’s name, was it Bolas?” He asked.
Hamblin nodded. If he was surprised Merlin knew the name, he didn’t show it. “Yeah, that was the name. Never heard of him, myself. He said he didn’t want to bother the king about it, so I told him maybe the steward would know, or the older knights.” He paused. “Don’t see why he didn’t just ask Arthur about it over dinner, though.”
That’s what Merlin wanted to know, too. He wasn’t sure what Leofwin’s game was, but if he refused to ask Arthur about it, it couldn’t be anything good.
Merlin quickly drank down the rest of his gruel. He had no business sitting around and conversing when Arthur could possibly be in danger from their guest. He should have thought to check on Leofwin first thing when he woke up instead of stewing about Mordred’s interference in his life.
He plastered on a smile for the others and stood. “I should get to work.” He left the table, raising a hand slightly in a wave farewell.
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Marsilia watched as Merlin returned his bowl before slipping out of the door with a tray of food. The laundress sighed and used her spoon to slosh her gruel around a bit. “I’m worried about Merlin.”
At the table behind her, one of the cellarers scoffed. “Why bother worrying about Merlin? He’s nothing but a stuck-up hedge-born knave.”
Marsilia rounded an intense glare on the man. “Daylen! You can’t just talk about someone’s lineage like that.” She said hotly. “And no one cares what you think, so just shut up!”
Daylen sneered at the girl. “I can speak as I please, Miss Minstrel.” He mocked, getting up and leaving his used bowl behind on the table with a scatter of bread crumbs. “Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. He acts all palsy-walsy with the king like they’re equals, but you know what he thinks of us? He thinks we’re nothing. He thinks we’re useless nobodies. Walks right by us in the halls and doesn’t so much as nod a greeting. He hardly speaks to anyone that isn’t a knight unless they’re someone important.”
He scowled, clenching his hands into fists. “He spends half his time in the tavern, yet still complains about how much work he has to do. He gets so much pity from all of you fools, and he laps it up like a mangy cat! I’m sick and tired of hearing Merlin this, and Merlin that! He’s not so special, and someday the king will come to his senses and realize that. Then the bastard will get just what’s coming to him.”
“That sounds almost like a threat, Daylen,” Hamblin stated, standing up. “You had better watch that churlish mouth of yours.”
“Yes, he had.” The head cook suddenly spoke up. “I won’t have such foul talk in my kitchen. The next time you want to do some belly-aching, you can go and leave us in peace, or you can go without breakfast nor lunch either!”
Daylen’s mouth twisted into an ugly snarl, and he turned on his heel. “Whatever you say, you old hag.” He said, taking his leave as the cook just shook her head behind him.
Marsilia sighed, relieved that the man had gone. Daylen was a nuisance and a pain but usually tolerable. Lately, though, his attitude seemed to have worsened. However, she hadn’t expected him to go off the way he had.
She looked over at Hamblin as he sat back down. “I’m still worried about Merlin.” She said softly.
Hamblin glanced at her, and his shoulders slumped. “Yeah, me too.”