by KM Shea
Britt slowly opened her eyes with great effort and smiled. Camelot was splayed in front of her. The barest hints of the sunrise were left on the horizon as the sun glowed cheerfully in the meadow. Sound leaked out of the castle fortification. Even at this distance, Britt heard a cow moo and a rooster crow.
The draft horse sneezed as Merlin fussed. “Come on you great hunk of horse flesh. Get moving,” he said.
“Merlin, is there really no way for you to send me home again?” Britt asked, staring at Camelot as the calm pack animal and enchanter fought.
Merlin fell still. “No, lass. I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes for a few moments and said good bye to her old life one last time. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes when she opened them, and she leaned forward, out of her slumped position against Merlin. “I’m home,” she softly uttered.
“Aye. Welcome home, Britt,” Merlin said.
The End
You can find free King Arthur extras and short stories at kmshea.com
Researching Arthur
Before researching my brains out for Enthroned, I thought that King Arthur ascended his throne the way the Disney movie, Sword in the Stone, shows it. I thought he pulled the sword from the stone, people wigged out, and BAM, he was king.
I thought wrong.
Britt’s story follows the original timeline of Arthur’s crowning. He did pull the sword on New Year’s Eve, but many people refused to recognize him as king so there were a number of other contests in which knights, princes, barons, and so on could try pulling the sword out too. Britt’s crowning on the day of Pentecost follows with typical Arthurian tradition, as does her war against King Lot, King Pellinore, King Urien, King Ryence, and the other unnamed kings and barons.
Additionally, before I started collecting King Arthur books and became an Arthur fanatic, I always assumed that King Arthur lived in the time of knights and castles and princesses.
Once again, I thought wrong.
There was a real Arthur. However, that Arthur was a great warrior and probably a general of some sort—not a king. Knights, castles, and even plate armor didn’t exist in his time yet as he was around when the Romans were still in Britain. When I started writing Enthroned I had a choice. My stories could follow history and the 500 words we know about the real Arthur, or they could be based off the legend that came about as a result of medieval writers who plunked Arthur down in a time that was relevant to their audience. I decided to go with the latter, mostly because it would give me more material to draw from.
There’s so much material, in fact, that many of the different legends counter what other Arthur stories and legends have to say. (As a preface, the Lancelot-Grail Cycle and the Post-Vulgate Cycle are essentially prose cycles of King Arthur stories. The writers of each cycle focused on different themes and different characters.)
Let’s take, for example, the Lady of the Lake. She was originally a villain of sorts. In the Lancelot-Grail Cycle the Lady of the Lake is called Viviane. She learns her magic from Merlin, who falls in love with her, and when she learns everything she can she gets sick of him and locks him in a tree, or beneath a stone depending on the story you’re reading.
It isn’t until the Post-Vulgate Cycle of King Arthur stories that writers started adding that she bestowed the legendary Excalibur on Arthur. In Le Morete d’Arthur the author, Thomas Malory, split the Lady of the Lake into two characters. Both are called the Lady of the Lake but the one who helps Arthur gets a name and is seen as a benefactor where as the one who traps Merlin remains more of a villain. Many writers followed in his footsteps by making the Lady of the Lake good.
In spite of her original character, I’ve never read a modern King Arthur story in which the Lady of the Lake was anything but good and beautiful. When I first started writing this series a few readers were upset with me because my Lady of the Lake is a bit of a bag, but she’s like that because I wanted to pay homage to the original Lady of the Lake—the nag who traps Merlin in a tree. (Don’t worry, I won’t be doing that to Merlin in my series.)
What’s the bottom line? There are more versions and legends of King Arthur lore than I could ever write about, but I do try to go the extra mile and include some of the earliest Arthurian lore in my stories. Hopefully you enjoy reading it.
Enchanted:
King Arthur and Her Knights Book 2
ENCHANTED
Copyright © 2017 by K. M. Shea
Cover design by Myrrhlynn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historic events is entirely coincidental.
www.kmshea.com
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1
Departures and Arrivals
The door creaked when it opened. “Britt? Are you in here?”
Britt pushed aside a shield that was decorated with a goose egg-sized ruby. “Yeah.”
“What are you doing in the treasury?”
It was Merlin, Britt could tell by the musical quality to his voice and by the flapping noise he made when he shook his Gandalf-rip-off robe. “Are you in need of gold, or are you seeking treasures to display in the castle keep?”
“Neither. I’m looking for something.” She pushed aside a tray of gold goblets to inspect the square table on which they were arranged. She shook her head and edged farther into the treasury, hopping over a pile of ivory and skirting a silver statue.
“I see. Do you think you could dispatch a servant to search for your item? I left King Ban and King Bors with Sir Kay. They mean to leave Britain by the end of the week unless you ask otherwise,” Merlin said.
“And you want me to ask otherwise?”
“I do,” Merlin acknowledged. “King Urien has made peace with you, but that leaves King Pellinore, King Ryence, and—most worrisome—King Lot as your enemies.”
“I thought you said you weren’t expecting military campaigns from them again.” Britt rolled up the edge of a tapestry to inspect the table it was thrown across.
“I don’t. But I enjoy the extra confidence Ban and Bors’ 10,000 mounted soldiers bring—even if Kay bellyaches over the cost of feeding them.” Merlin watched Britt crouch down and crawl under the table.
“You don’t really think the fighting is over, do you?” Britt sneezed and hit her head on the bottom of the table. “Ouch.”
“No, quite the contrary actually. King Pellinore will return home to lick his wounds—he’s a brilliant knight but he knows when to leave well enough alone. And I expect his wife will make him stay home and mind his lands for a while. King Lot will sulk for the time being. He will make another attack against us, but I suspect it will be more on the level of espionage—not military force,” Merlin said.
“Then it’s King Ryence you’re worried about,” Britt said, sliding out from her inspection point beneath the table.
Merlin frowned. “Yes,” he admitted as Britt stood and fluffed her blonde hair to get dust out of it. “King Ryence has given up on you, but I fear he is turning his military strength to one of your allies, King Leodegrance.”
“Ah.” She grabbed a burning torch that was secured to the wall and raised it over her head. “Alright. I’ll ask Ban and Bors’ to stay another…three weeks?”
“That would be an acceptable time frame, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Britt said, standing on her tiptoes as she looked around the room with a frown.
“Whatever are you looking for anyway?” Merlin asked.
“The Round Table.”
“What?”
“You said I inherited all this stuff from Uther, right? I’m almost positive that he was the one who owned Arthur’s Round Table before Art
hur got it. It should be in here…but I can’t seem to find it. Unless it’s the size of a coffee table, but that’s ridiculous. It’s supposed to be big!”
“We are discussing the possibilities of warfare, and you are searching for a circular table,” Merlin flatly said.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it!”
“As I recall, Uther had some dozens of round-shaped tables in his castle. I don’t particularly remember any of them being of importance, although I will ask Sir Ulfius for you if it means that much to you.”
“I would appreciate that, thanks,” Britt said, brushing dust off her tunic. “I should go talk to Ban and Bors now?”
“Dressed like that? No. You look like a muddied street urchin. Faerie wings, you are odd.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go get cleaned up. I need to find Cavall anyway.”
“Keep that hairy mutt outside the great hall,” Merlin ordered as they made their way to the treasury door.
“No.”
“You are acting like a child.”
“I am a twenty-first century woman masquerading as a fifteen-year-old boy king who makes no decisions about his own kingdom. The least you will allow me to do is to make decisions regarding my pets.”
“Fine.”
“So, Merlin thinks there may yet be trouble?” King Ban—a well-groomed, well-mannered man—said as he folded his hands behind his back, following Britt down a dirt path that circled the outer walls of Camelot.
“He does, and I agree with him. I find it unlikely that these men, who have been thorns in my side since the day I was crowned in London, are through with me after one battle,” Britt said, placing a hand on Cavall. The fawn-colored dog kept pace with Britt, his wrinkled muzzle twitching.
“They certainly ran from you with their tails between their legs. You did not even need our soldiers during your victorious battle,” King Bors said, brushing a bug out of his massive beard.
Britt was silent as she composed her thoughts—replying always took time for her as she had to not only think about her answer, but also come up with a flowery way to phrase it to suit her audience. “Perhaps.” She turned to face Ban and Bors. “But I’m not certain I would call it a victory. We beat them off, but they did not surrender. As such, I would greatly appreciate the support your army and men symbolize for a little while longer. Surely your kingdoms can spare you a few weeks more?”
King Bors smiled. “Of course, friend,” he said, his voice booming in the stillness of the surrounding fields.
King Ban nodded. “We are your staunch allies. We shall stay as long as you need us.”
Britt gave the kings a benevolent smile. “Thank you. I hope some time in the future I will be able to repay your generosity.”
King Bors waved a meaty hand. “It is what allies do,” he said before turning to Ban. “We had best inform our men of the change in plans.”
King Ban nodded. “If you will excuse us, Arthur?”
Britt slightly inclined her head. “Of course,” she said, her hand still resting on Cavall.
The kings turned and walked back up the path, their tunics swishing as they moved.
As soon as they were out of sight, Britt turned to face the castle wall and discreetly fixed the fitted doublet that smashed her chest down, giving her tunic the appearance of lying on a flat chest.
“I’m lucky summers are cool here, or this would really be the pits,” Britt muttered, hiking up her pantyhose. (Merlin still insisted they were called chausses. Britt knew better.)
“So that’s why Merlin said you were one of faerie blood. He had to explain your elegance and calm.”
Britt whirled around, grimacing when her eyes landed on the Lady of the Lake. The black-haired beauty had unwillingly allowed Britt to steal pull Excalibur from her magical lake after she had offered Britt a different sword. Britt suspected she only got away with Excalibur because the lady was dumbstruck over the revelation of Britt’s real gender. If the Lady of the Lake knew Britt’s entire story, she probably would have died from shock.
Britt had been yanked back through time to the era of King Arthur when she accidentally touched a sword—the famed Sword in the Stone—while vacationing in Britain with her friends. When she arrived, Merlin informed her that the real Arthur had run off with a shepherdess, and all of his plans to unite Britain under one King were hinged on finding someone who could pull the Sword from the Stone.
After a brief period of believing it was an elaborate prank set up by her friends (or that maybe she was in a coma, dreaming), Britt pulled the Sword from the Stone even though she was a woman, an American, and from the twenty-first century.
Merlin grumbled a little over Britt’s unusual time-traveling heritage, but he had no other option. Adapting and clever as ever, Merlin plowed forward with his plans—using Britt as his symbolic king.
Only a few knights of Camelot knew of Britt’s gender, and even fewer knew she came from the future. All of the knowledgeable knights were Merlin’s men, and all of them were in seats of power, working with Merlin—and supposedly Britt—to unite Britain under one king for the good of all peoples.
The Lady of the Lake was the only other being to know Britt’s real gender.
“What do you mean?” Britt asked.
The Lady of the Lake shrugged, sending ripples down her pretty, green dress. “No fifteen-year-old boy could hold himself with the stately poise you possess, nor could a boy be as wise and careful in their replies as you are. Those with faerie blood are known to possess not only incredible beauty, but wisdom and knowledge beyond their years. Why, Merlin is said to have some faerie blood in him.”
Britt carefully nodded as she turned around. She could see her guards yards away, alert and watchful. They did not seem overly worried about the magical lady standing with Britt.
Britt wished they would be. She hadn’t parted on good terms with the Lady of the Lake when she took Excalibur. “I see,” Britt said, sparing Cavall a glance. The large, wrinkly faced dog was still. “May I be so bold as to inquire what brings you to Camelot?”
“I see how it is. Now, you’re all politeness and sweet words since you’ve got your sword. Shrew,” the lady said.
Britt shrugged, unapologetic. “That’s not a bad thing. Most people would act the reverse, Tinker Bell.”
The Lady of the Lake frowned. “Tinker Bell?”
“It has not escaped my attention that you have yet to explain what you’re doing here.”
The Lady of the Lake twitched her skirts aside. “I decided a visit was in order. Rumors of your victory against King Lot, King Urien, King Pellinore, King Ryence and the others have reached my lake. You have become quite the king,” she said, turning her nose up in the air.
Britt kept her stance relaxed. As far as she remembered, the only legends about the Lady in the Lake involved Excalibur. It was unlikely she had a larger role to play, so there was no need to be defensive with her. “As I told King Ban and King Bors—which I am certain you overheard—it was not a true victory.”
“At least you don’t still have an enlarged ego,” the Lady of the Lake said.
There was silence for a few moments. Britt shifted and glanced over her shoulder at her guards. They were still on alert, their eyes endlessly scanning their surroundings.
“So, you’re really ruling, even though you’re a woman?” the Lady of the Lake said. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it dripped with disdain.
“I am. Most of them don’t know of it. But a few do,” Britt admitted.
“Merlin and his minions?”
“Yes.”
The Lady of the Lake frowned and inspected Britt from the top of her head to her shoes. “Rumor has it you want a court ruled by honor, justice, and chivalry?”
Britt wryly smiled. Young Ywain—a young man who had defected to Britt’s side even though he was the son of King Urien—was the only person to whom she had told her plans. Apparently he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “I do,” B
ritt said. “I can’t make laws or rules about women. I can’t give them rights, and I can’t feed all the poor. My lords and knights would rebel. But if I have a code of conduct and reward those who act in chivalry, I think I will be successful.”
The Lady of the Lake lowered her snotty gaze long enough to stare at Britt. “You really mean to change Britain?”
“Yes.”
There was more silence again, and Britt considering trying to sneak off. The Lady of the Lake abruptly broke the silence, her words spilling over themselves like a frantic river. “A lady of great magic is traveling from the north. Her goal is Camelot. She means to ensnare you and the men of your court. I do not believe you will fall for her magic. You have Excalibur after all, and she will not expect you to be a woman. There. You’ve had a warning. You’re a complete fool if you still fall for it.”
Britt blinked at the faerie lady before smiling. “I see. I didn’t think things would be peaceful quite yet. Thank you for the warning…”
“Nymue.”
“Nymue,” Britt said, carefully pronouncing the name.
The Lady of the Lake, Nymue, twitched her skirts again. “I’ll be going then. Wouldn’t want to stick around this place too long,” she scoffed, pushing some of her long, black hair over her shoulder.
“Safe travels home, Nymue,” Britt said.
“Of course, I’m not some sort of second rate nymph,” Nymue sniffed before adding, “Good luck.”
Britt glanced over her shoulder to spy out her guards. By the time she looked forward again, Nymue was gone.
A week later Britt was throwing a pouch stuffed with dried beans for Cavall when a messenger threw open the doors to the throne room. “My Lord, I bear ill news!”
“W-what, what?” Sir Ector snorted, rocketing out of the chair he was dozing in.
“Come in and give your message to the King,” Merlin invited the messenger, never removing his intense blue eyes from the abacus he was using.
