King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (11 page)

“Excellent. Thank you, Sir Kay,” Britt smiled.

“It is my pleasure, my King. Would you like something to eat or drink? I could take you to a dining facility.”

“That would be much appreciated, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. This way, I believe,” Sir Kay said, going back down the hallway.

Britt started to follow him before she hesitated, looking back at the sitting mastiff. “Cavall, here,” she called.

The obedient canine stood and padded to her side, keeping pace with her. Britt briefly placed a hand on his head, and was surprised when Sir Kay smiled as he watched the exchange.

Catching Britt’s eye, Sir Kay cleared his throat and wiped the smile from his face before speaking. “This way, My Lord.”

“I hope you are pleased with your rooms, My Lord,” Sir Ulfius said as he led Britt through the castle keep.

“I’m sure I will love them. You said all of my things were moved there?” Britt asked, glancing behind her to make sure Cavall was still following. He was.

“Yes, I placed Excalibur there myself this afternoon while you dined, and I brought that, that black
thing
you guarded so closely during our days in London.”

“My backpack? Excellent, thank you Sir Ulfius,” Britt said when the older knight paused outside a door.

“It is my pleasure and my duty as your chamberlain, Sire,” Sir Ulfius said, sparing Britt a smile she could barely see behind his impressive facial hair before he opened the door. “The Great Chamber: your room, My Lord.”

The room was big—almost embarrassingly so considering Britt would be the only occupant, she was going to
freeze
in the winter. There was a fireplace with a chimney to siphon the smoke away. A wooden stool was placed in front of the chimney, and the walls were decorated with tapestries of battle scenes. The only other furniture was the bed—which had a canopy suspended from the ceiling that cascaded over it—and a wooden bed stand.

Britt wasn’t completely surprised by the room. She had roughed it out in the London inn long enough to know that bedrooms were not the personalized rooms she was used to. However, she was heartened by her backpack—which was carefully placed in the corner.

“Thank you, Sir Ulfius. It’s wonderful,” Britt said when she realized the knight was waiting in silence for her judgment.

The older knight nodded in satisfaction. “Do you need or require anything else, My Lord?”

“No, this is great. Thank you for bringing me here,” Britt said as she—and Cavall—walked to her backpack.

“It is my honor, My Lord,” Sir Ulfius said with a partial bow before he left, closing the door behind him.

Britt hesitated. Excalibur and her saddle bags were stacked carefully beside her bed frame. She sat down momentarily on her bed—pleasantly surprised by the feather mattress. She peeled up the mattress to glance at medieval version of a mattress spring, which was formed by ropes woven and intertwined together—before digging through her bags.

After a minute she found what she was looking for—her British travel guidebook—and got up to approach her backpack. She stopped when she reached it, and nudged it with her foot. She started to crouch, intending to open it, before she shook her head and made a retreat to the bed.

“I can’t look at it. Any of it. If I look at my stuff I’ll only remember what I’ve lost,” Britt told Cavall as the dog lay down at the foot of her bed. Britt looked around her room again, cringing at the overwhelming masculinity of it, and sat down on her bed. “So this is where I’ll be living. This is my room,” she said, the words tasted bitter in her mouth, and she closed her eyes against the stark reality.

Britt wanted to go home.

“
The only story as famous, or perhaps even more famous, than Arthur is the romantic relationship between Guinevere and Sir Lancelot—Arthur’s best knight. It is said that Guinevere’s affair with Lancelot destroyed Camelot and King Arthur’s Court
—,” Britt stopped reading and threw the guidebook, making her guards jump when it smacked against the stone ground of the wall walk.

Britt leaned against the crenellation—the wall of the walkway that was built in a saw tooth pattern. “Why doesn’t the guidebook have more information about Arthur? I don’t care about Guinevere and Lancelot!” Britt spat, shivering in the chilly night air. “I’ve hated
them
since childhood!”

It had to be midnight, or later. Time was relative to Britt since she arrived in medieval England. She knew it was three weeks since her arrival at Camelot. The days were interesting enough. Sir Kay took her riding and sparring, Merlin continued his usual/unwanted lessons, Sir Ector stood with her and made amusing comments when she held open court and listened to “her” knights argue back and forth about the best way to attack King Lot and his allies. It was the nights that were the worst. In the middle of the suffocating nights Britt would wake up, screaming for her mother, for her sister and friends, only to be hit with the realization that she would never see any of them again.

“I’m an orphan,” Britt reflected. “An orphan with insomnia,” she said before she pushed herself to her feet and retrieved her British guidebook. Britt dusted it off, sparing a smile at Cavall when the giant mastiff slowly approached her, his nails clicking on the stone. “Gentlemen, we walk,” Britt announced to the six guards strategically grouped around her—new protective measures compliments of “her” knights. (Although Britt suspected Sir Kay was the ringleader of this idea.)

As she had for the last two weeks, Britt walked up and down the walkways of Camelot’s outer walls, occasionally stopping to stare out at the darkened countryside, or to twist on her heels and watch the poorly lit innards of her castle.

The weather was cool—much cooler than Britt’s home in America—but the endless walking would eventually push Britt into exhaustion, allowing her to sleep.

Britt placed her hand on Cavall’s head and walked. The guards in front and behind her clinked in their chain mail—their matched steps beating a steady rhythm. The air was peppered with smoke from household fires. Britt couldn’t smell anything yet, but she knew in a few short hours the castle cook would be up, baking heavy, filling breads.

“So it’s true.”

Britt whirled to face the speaker—who stood behind her. Cavall growled, and her guards raised their weapons.

It was Merlin. Of course. “The King of Britain paces the walls of Camelot at night like a prowling lion…or a tortured soul,” he said as the guards lowered their weapon.

Britt half smiled. “You sound surprised.”

“That is because I am,” Merlin mildly said, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I didn’t think anything could happen in this castle without your knowledge,” Britt said, patting Cavall on the side to soothe the dog so he finally relaxed his stiff stance.

Merlin ignored the comment and nodded to the guards. “Return to Arthur’s rooms. I will return him to his quarters and back into your care when we are finished talking.”

The guards saluted the wizard and left in an organized formation.

Britt watched them go, moving closer to Cavall when the wind blew across the river and straight up Camelot’s walls.

“Arthur, what is wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin gestured into the night. “When Kay told me you walked the castle walls like a desperate man seeking redemption I thought he was exaggerating. Alas, he was right, for you do look hopeless.”

Britt dryly chuckled and turned to stare into Camelot. “You have such a way with words, Merlin.”

“I am serious, Arthur.”

“It’s
BRITT
,” Britt snapped. She placed a hand over her mouth to hold back additional words. “Merlin, you don’t have a family, do you?” she finally managed.

“I have a mentor, an old hermit who raised me. But no, I have no parents nor siblings.”

“I have a Mom. She worked a lot when I was in school, but she made sure we did fun things on the weekend. She encouraged my passions, no matter how weird they seemed. Before I came here I talked to her just about every day on the phone. I have an older sister too. She was the one who first taught me how to ride horses. Even though I was just her kid-sister she would let me play with her and her friends. She lives just an hour away from my apartment. We would meet up for coffee or a movie every few weeks so we could catch up. I have a goldfish, and some awesome friends. One of them is my next door neighbor, Issie. She and I do our laundry together Tuesday evenings. Do you get what I’m saying?”

Merlin slowly nodded. “I do not recognize many of the activities you speak of, but I see that you mean you have a home and kin.”

“All of them are dead to me.”

“What?”

“All of them are lost. I will never see any of them again. Everything and everyone I have ever known is gone. Forever. I will never ride a horse with my sister again. I will never call my mom and laugh over my latest work fiasco. I can’t even go by the name I was given at birth. All of that is gone. I have no one and you are asking me
why
I seem like a desperate soul in the late hours?” Britt said, her voice was free of malice as she stared at Merlin with level eyes.

Merlin was quiet. “I’m sorry, lass,” he finally said. “I do not give you enough credit. You are strong. Your grieving is not unjustified. What would help you?”

Britt turned to look at the darkness lurking outside the castle walls. “I don’t think anything can. Just time.”

Merlin nodded before he seated himself on the ground, huddled against the parapet—the wall of the walkway. “Tell me about your sister. How did she teach you to ride a horse?”

“She taught me out of selfishness, really. When my dad left my mom we moved away from the hall that was teaching me swordplay. Mom said between my sister and I we could only have one extracurricular activity. Since I couldn’t find any swordsmanship classes at the time I was open for a new hobby. My sister wanted to keep riding, so she knew she had to win me over. She stuck me on this ridiculously fat pony named Chubby…”

“…My sister got into jumping and dressage.  I thought dressage was dead boring, and jumping scared the pants off me…”

“…favorite horse ever was this beautiful black gelding named Orion. I rode him until his owner sold him, and then I finally found another place that taught historical swordplay…”

Britt talked long into the night. By the time Merlin helped Britt to her room the eastern horizon was a lighter color, hinting at the sun that would soon rise. Britt collapsed on her bed and heard Cavall sigh when he lay down near her while she drifted off into sleep, remembering her days spent riding with her sister.