King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (41 page)

“How did you know I would be here?” Britt asked.

“King Pellinore. When Kay discovered you were missing this morning he told us he might know where you ran off to,” Merlin said. “Gawain, Lancelot. I found him.”

The two knights were standing in the shadows of a wall. They both looked up when Britt and Merlin approached them.

“My Lord,” Gawain bowed.

“I am glad you have been found, My Lord,” Lancelot declared.

Britt ignored the foreign knight’s greeting. “Hello Gawain. Did the three of you make it into Camelgrance before the portcullis closed for Maleagant?” Britt asked.

“No,” Merlin said. “We saw Maleagant issue his warning to King Leodegrance though.”

Britt frowned. “If you didn’t get in before, how did you make it inside?”

Gawain looked queasy. “Magic,” he said.

“Merlin is quite the impressive wizard,” Lancelot added, for once somewhat subdued.

“Indeed. I was
going
to bring Sir Kay and Gawain with me, but at the last minute Lancelot pushed Kay back just before I finished the spell to get us through—King Pellinore was holding back Ywain as he was hotly demanding he come with—getting the spell cast on him. So I had no choice but to bring Lancelot in Kay’s place,” Merlin said, sounding just the smallest bit disgusted.

“I find myself gladdened by this news,” Britt said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Are you?”

Lancelot beamed. “I am pleased my presence delights you, My Lord.”

“It’s not that. Since you kept Kay from coming to get me in all likeliness that means you are now higher on his list of people to maim than I am,” Britt said.

Merlin coughed to cover a laugh, but Gawain seriously considered Britt’s words. “He has a list?”

“What do you think he’s always writing in that logbook of his?”

Gawain nodded. “You must be right, My Lord.”

“So what’s the plan?” Britt asked.

“For what?” Merlin said.

“To leave Camelgrance?”

“There is no plan.”

“Can’t we go out the way you came in?” Britt asked.

“No,” Merlin said as Gawain shuddered behind him. “It took a lot of magic to get us in. I certainly don’t have enough to get four of us out.”

“We could always leave Lancelot behind,” Britt mumbled before Merlin elbowed her.

“Sir Bodwain is riding back to Camelot as we speak. He means to muster an army to aid King Leodegrance and free us,” Gawain said.

“In the meantime we will sit tight,” Merlin added.

“We shall have to stay on the streets with the rest of these poor outcasts,” Lancelot said, benevolently looking at the peasants crowding the courtyard.

“Not on your life. I have several contacts living in Camelgrance. We will stay with one of them,” Merlin said, setting off into another part of the castle. “Follow me.”

Merlin’s contact was a short, skinny merchant who seemed to be scarcely less intelligent than Merlin himself. He agreed to host them and provided beds and food for all four of them. Merlin spent most of the afternoon closeted with the merchant, leaving Britt with Lancelot and Gawain.

Due to a particular member of her company, Britt had a headache by the time night fell. When the midnight watch called the headache still hadn’t left. Rather than wake her companions, Britt told the merchant—who was wide awake and inspecting his wares—she was going to take a walk.

He insisted she wear a short, hooded cloak, which Britt put on before she slipped out of the house and wandered Camelgrance freely. “They have quite lax security here considering it’s much smaller than Camelot,” Britt said after nodding to a patrolling soldier—who didn’t even stop to question her reason for being out at such a late hour.

Britt’s wanderings eventually brought her to the keep. As she passed near the stables she thought she heard crying. Britt followed her ears to the castle garden. She kept to the shadows, stopping when she saw the sobbing came from Guinevere.

The younger girl had cast herself face down on the lip of the fountain. Her normally glossy, braided hair was a wild bush around her, and instead of her beautiful dress she wore a plain kirtle.

“Probably agonizing over a handsome face,” Britt muttered. Her heart softened, though, when she remembered Leodegrance’s trouble. In all likelihood, Leodegrance had told Guinevere she was going to marry Maleagant.

Britt sighed and pulled up the hood of her cloak, making sure it covered her golden hair. “What troubles you, My Lady?” Britt asked in the gruffest voice she could muster.

“What? Who is there?” Guinevere said, wiping tears from her red eyes.

“I mean you no harm,” Britt said, hoping the princess wouldn’t call for guards.

“Who are you?”

“I’m… the gardener,” Britt said.

Guinevere wiped her nose on her sleeve. “What would a gardener care about the troubles of a silly girl?” Guinevere harshly laughed.

“I care for the troubles of most people. Silly girls included. Now, what troubles you, My Lady?” Britt patiently asked.

“You must have heard, Father must give me to Duke Maleagant, or the duke will bring war upon us.”

“Does he have no allies he can turn to for help?”

A bark of laughter escaped from Guinevere’s throat. “He does, but that is hardly any better.”

“What do you mean?”

“His only ally that seems even remotely inclined to aid him is King Arthur, and if he does rescue us my father will see me married to
him
.”

Obviously Guinevere hadn’t heard the rumors of how handsome and loved ‘King Arthur’ was. Feeling slightly offended, Britt said, “And marrying King Arthur would be just as bad as marrying Duke Maleagant?”

“No,” Guinevere said, shifting until she sat on the brim of the fountain. “He’s a great deal younger, and I’m sure he’s not as rotten as Maleagant. He’s also richer, I would have more jewels and clothes if I were to wed him,” Guinevere said.

Just as Britt thought the girl was nothing but a mindless mercenary, Guinevere added, “But the only reason Father wants me to marry Arthur is because of my lands.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“How long have you served us? Don’t you know that when my mother dies, I shall inherit all the lands my Father gained when he married her?”

“I, um, of course know of this. I fail to see what your inheritance has to do with King Arthur,” Britt said.

“Arthur is richer than my father, and he doesn’t need more land holdings. He wants some stupid table, so Father would get to keep my lands,” Guinevere bitterly said. “Father doesn’t care who I marry, so long as he profits the most from the union.”

“And what do you want?”

“Pardon?”

“What would you like to do?”

It was a long time before Guinevere responded. “I just want everything to stay the same,” she whispered. “I want to go on picking flowers, and laugh and talk with my friends, and choose pretty dresses to wear. I don’t want to be a wife yet; least of all to a man I do not love.”

“You do not get to chose whom you marry?”

“Of course not. I am a bargaining chip for my father to use. I will marry whomever he chooses. The only variable is the beauty of the cage I will be locked in.” Guinevere laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I suppose it’s because you’re the first person to ever ask.”

“And you have no one to fight on your behalf?” Britt asked. Guinevere was a pretty thing. Surely there was a knight somewhere who would fight for her.

“What do you mean?”

“No knight has pledged himself to serve you?”

“No. Why should one? Knights only serve in times of war,” Guinevere sniffled.

Britt frowned for a moment. Now that she thought of it, Guinevere was right. In Camelot all the young knights who were supposed to be off questing and having adventures hung around the courts. The knights who were older and married were at home, seeing to their families and lands.

Lancelot and his piggy cousins, in fact, were the first knights Britt had come across who had gone on quests—if one excluded King Pellinore and his romps after the Questing Beast.

Why was that?

From what Britt could recall, chivalry and questing and doing great deeds for King Arthur or a favored lady was the very foundation of the Round Table.

Guinevere stood, fumbling to push her wild hair over her shoulder. “I thank you for your kindness, gardener, but I must depart. I have much to prepare for,” she said, her lower lip trembling.

Britt studied the genuinely upset princess. This was not the falsified moroseness she had tried to trick Britt with earlier in the day. Guinevere was struggling. “Have hope, My Lady,” Britt said.

Guinevere laughed harshly. “Hope in what?”

“In mankind.”

“Mankind is no comfort. Every man only cares for himself. Those of us who are weak, those of us who are powerless will never be saved.”

“Then hope for a future where that is not so. Hope that somewhere in Britain there is a person who is willing to fight for the weak and the powerless,” Britt said.

Guinevere turned to face the keep, placing her back to Britt. “If such a person, no, if such a
being
existed, whether they be faerie, man, woman, or saint, life would not be like this,” she said. “Good night, gardener.”

Britt watched the princess leave. “This country needs King Arthur. The real King Arthur, not a fake. They need a hero.”

“There is something on your mind.”

Britt stirred at Merlin’s words. “It is nothing. I’m just tired.”

It was mid morning. King Leodegrance had a few scant hours to make his decision. Merlin had sent Gawain and Lancelot up the castle walls to see if they could spy any sign of an army—Britt’s or Maleagant’s. With their merchant host gone to see what kind of profit he could turn in the chaos, Merlin and Britt were alone in the small home.

“No,” Merlin said. “When you are tired you yawn more and shut your eyes. You are thinking.”

Britt stared at Merlin in surprise, eliciting a smile from the cunning man. “I know your habits, lass. You can’t hide much from me. Now, what is the problem?”

“This is wrong. Guinevere being forced by her father to marry Maleagant or me, Maleagant cornering Leodegrance, it’s all wrong.”

“The world is filled with evil men, lass. Not everyone is as good of a person as you are. Camelot is blessed that the Sword in the Stone chose you as King,” Merlin said.

“I know that. Not about me, about bad people. I know some people are just downright evil, that’s not what I’m protesting. Where are the champions? There should be a dozen knights doing good deeds in Guinevere’s name. My lands shouldn’t be the only ones free of trouble. Why aren’t knights
doing
anything?”

“You mentioned something similar to Ywain months ago. What do you mean?” Merlin thoughtfully asked.

“In my time most of the stories and legends about King Arthur are about his knights. They were always off doing a good deed or following some long-winded quest to bring honor to their name, their lord’s name, or their lady’s name. They served people.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not like that, lass,” Merlin said.