Page 33 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

Gabriel shot her a warning look – a look that saidbe nice –and she sighed. ‘You’re allowed to go out, Agnes. I don’t particularly care what you get up to at night, as long as you don’t wake me on your return.’

There was a soft knock at the door. Agnes looked even more guilty than she had before.

‘Who’s that?’ said Gwen.

‘Nobody,’ said Agnes, bunching the edges of her cloak up in her hands.

‘Agnes,’ somebody hissed, in a very loud stage whisper. ‘Ags, it’s Sidney. Open the bloody door.’

‘I don’t know what he’s doing here,’ Agnes said, stickingher chin out defiantly, still bright red. Gwen and Gabriel exchanged another look.

‘Are we early?’ Sidney said quietly to somebody on the other side of the door.

‘She said a little before midnight,’ said Arthur, not bothering to lower his voice. ‘So actually we’re right on time. Unless she had no intention of meeting you, and this is actually a jilting, in which case … Oh, hello, Gwendoline.’

Gwen had crossed the room and wrenched open the door. Sidney was bent over, apparently trying to look through the keyhole, while Arthur lounged behind him against the wall. Sidney straightened up immediately, looking slightly sheepish; Arthur just nodded in greeting.

‘Whatareyou doing?’ Gwen demanded.

‘Crimes,’ said Arthur, at the exact same time that both Agnes and Sidney said, ‘Nothing.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly done an excellent job of getting your story straight,’ Gwen said, crossing her arms.

‘We’re going to a party,’ Arthur said, studying his fingernails and then looking up at her archly. ‘Now, how do I explain what a party is? It’s a place where people meet to have fun, and—’

‘It’s not a party,’ Sidney interrupted. ‘Right, Agnes?’

Agnes put a hand to her forehead and sighed. ‘No.’

‘Well, what is it then?’ Gwen said. Gabriel had appeared at her shoulder, and was watching the proceedings with mild interest.

‘It’s Morgan’s Day,’ Agnes said, as if that explained anything.

‘Morgan’s Day? Morgan who? LeFay?’

‘Yes, le Fay,’ Arthur said, as if she were being incredibly slow. ‘It’s a secret gathering for her birthday. Or … something.’

‘You’re going to a witch’s birthday party,’ Gwen said. ‘A witch who’s been dead for hundreds of years, and who was considered morally questionable at best.’

‘That’s the crux of it,’ said Arthur. ‘Any more inane questions or can we leave?’

‘Oh, I have questions,’ said Gwen. ‘Why is this party starting in the middle of the night? And what’s the point of a birthday party for somebody who’s dead?’

Arthur went to speak, but Gabriel got there first.

‘The more progressive Arthurians celebrate the duality of her spirit. Her capacity for kindness and evil. The stories about her can’t pin down whether she was good or bad, so people have decided she was a bit of both. The more devout cultists prefer Merlin, so she’s become a bit of a symbol of resistance, especially for women. People confess their faults to her, and celebrate their strengths. It’s a sort of ritual.’

Everybody turned to stare at him.

‘I’m not a cultist,’ he said. ‘I’ve just read a lot about them. Their practices are interesting.’

‘You are mad as a newt,’ Arthur said, shaking his head. Gabriel looked down at his feet; the tips of his ears had gone very pink.

‘We’ll be off then,’ said Sidney, offering Agnes his arm. ‘Unless – do you want to come?’

‘Me?’ said Gwen. ‘To a secret cultist gathering, at Camelot? In this political climate?’

‘Gwendoline doesn’t do fun,’ Arthur said. ‘Come on, Idon’t want to get there after they’ve given out all the good dark magic.’