by KM Shea
“It’s why Ol’ King Leodegrance only drags it out for feasts. It’s perfect for those occasions when everyone is drunk and don’t look closely at the furniture, plus servants can get on the inside of the ring to serve everyone real easy,” the squire said.
“Maybe Merlin is right. We should just build our own Round Table,” Britt muttered.
“Oh, what a dream come true this is,” Lancelot said.
Britt lowered her hand to see if the handsome knight had gone stark, raving mad.
“To think that we’re seeing the Round Table. Such great things must have happened at this table, like your father’s stories, Art,” Lancelot said, turning to face Britt.
Britt stared at the knight until the squire shifted, reminding Britt of her role. “Absolutely. It’s not how I imagined it, but to think that Uther Pendragon himself sat here. How noble.”
The squire shrugged. “Glad you’re not disappointed,” he said. “That all you want to see?”
“Indeed, thank you, young squire, for taking the time to show us this great piece of history,” Lancelot said, a glittering coin appearing in his fingers. He tossed it to the squire, who caught it with enthusiasm.
“Right, no problem at all. You men need me to lead you out?” the squire asked.
“If you wouldn’t mind taking us to the kitchens, we would much appreciate it. Thank you,” Britt said as she and Lancelot exited the room, the squire right behind them.
The helpful squire took them to the kitchens where they easily joined the mass of servants and slipped out the supplies door.
“That was a disappointment,” Britt said as she and Lancelot passed through the castle gates.
“Camelgrance seems to be a very odd place,” Lancelot said.
Feeling protective of her ally, even though she did not particularly like him, Britt asked, “Why do you say that?”
“The females of that castle.”
“What of them?”
“They did not react to me how most ladies do.”
Britt heaved her eyes to the heavens. “Of course your description of odd would contain preferences to yourself.”
“Pardon?”
“Lads, you’ve made it safe and sound.”
Britt, recognizing that voice, craned her neck and spotted Merlin, Kay, Ywain and Gawain standing near a large hay bale.
“As have you,” Britt said.
“Did you see the Round Table as you wished to, My Lord?” Gawain asked.
“We did,” Britt said.
“How?” Ywain asked, stunned.
“We entered Camelgrance and asked an assortment of servants until we found a squire who could take us to it,” Britt said.
“Tis in a shamble and somewhat disgraceful,” Lancelot said, earning a look of irritation from Britt.
“How did you get in the keep?” Merlin asked.
“Through the kitchens,” Britt said. “Why?”
“We could not even gain entrance to the keep, and thus were unable to see the table,” Gawain said.
“Us as well,” Kay added.
“Oh,” Britt said.
“It is a good thing, then, that My Lord and I were able to see the table,” Lancelot said.
“What did you think of it?” Merlin asked.
“It’s not what I pictured. It’s much bigger than I thought it would be. The squire told us it can seat 150 knights,” Britt said.
Merlin nodded. “That would be about right. Although more than 150 knights served Uther, not all of them were at his castle at once. You are surprised?”
“Yes. Based on the stories, I thought it would be much smaller and that it would be one table. It is essentially many tables pieced together,” Britt said.
“Well, you’ve seen it. We can depart for Camelot, and you can judge for yourself what price you’re willing to pay to get it. If you still want it,” Merlin said.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but the light is dimming. We should return to King Pellinore and meet up with the main company before sunset,” Sir Kay said.
“Kay is right. Let us set out, men,” Merlin said, leading the way away from Camelgrance.
“Did you get to see King Leodegrance, My Lord?” Ywain asked, moving to walk at Britt’s side.
“No. I mostly saw furniture and a multitude of tables. You?” Britt asked.
Ywain nodded. “Sir Kay and I saw him return from a hunt early in the morning. He’s a regular player. An actor I mean.”
“I agree with you, cousin, for Merlin and I saw him as well,” Gawain said, falling in line at Britt’s other side.
“Oh?” Britt said. “What is it about him that reminds you of an actor?”
“He’s not how he appears to be,” Ywain said. “He looks noble, like a king should, but he’s not.”
“Agreed,” Gawain said. “It seems like he tries to imitate a man of high caliber, like King Pellinore, to cover his shortcomings.”
“And what are his shortcomings?”
“He was harsh to his mount, which isn’t often a sign of an even temper,” Gawain carefully said. “And he wore lavish clothes. Of course a king should dress well, but he wore an embroidered, red tunic to go hunting.”
“His wife was…quiet,” Ywain added. “Mother always has an earful for my father whenever she sees him. Not so with King Leodegrance’s wife.”
“I see,” Britt said. “Thank you for your insight.”
“My pleasure, My Lord,” Ywain said.
“Please do not take our words seriously. We know little of ruling; our only wish is to serve you, My Lord,” Gawain said.
“Aye,” Ywain echoed.
Britt smiled and slung her arms around their shoulders. “I am blessed and grateful to have you,” she said, getting grins from the cousins.
“So are we, My Lord,” they said.
“My Lord,” Sir Kay said.
“Yes?” Britt asked, removing her arms from her young friends. She stopped and fell in line with Sir Kay, who was behind her.
Sir Kay was silent for a few moments. “Well done today,” he finally said.
Britt grinned. “Thanks. It has certainly given me a lot to think about.”
The horizon was barely pink with dawn when Britt arose the following day. Few of the knights were up, and those who were spared Britt no second glance as she walked to the edge of their camp, gazing in the direction of Camelgrance.
“What is on your mind, King Arthur?” King Pellinore asked, clamping a giant hand on her shoulder.
“Please, just Arthur,” Britt said with a weak smile. “My knights will not budge on calling me ‘My Lord,’ but you are a fellow king.”
King Pellinore nodded. “Very well, but only if you extend the same rule to me. What is it that weighs you down, Arthur? You have been thoughtful since your return yesterday.”
“I have never interacted much with King Leodegrance. Ywain and Gawain both gave me unfavorable reports of him yesterday.”
“That worries you?”
“It does. I feel foolish saying it, but I always thought of my allies as being…honorable.”
“Righteous?”
“I suppose so, yes. I find it discomforting that one of my allies might not be a very good person,” Britt said, turning to look at the older king. “You are not allies with King Leodegrance. Why?”
King Pellinore hooked his thumbs on the belt of his tunic. “Anglesey is far north of Leodegrance's lands. There’s never been a reason to be allies. But even if he had asked, I would be reluctant to accept an offer of friendship from him.”
“Why?”
“As far as kings go, Leodegrance isn’t such a bad fellow. He’s no fool. He sees that his people are fed and that his army is provided for. But he lacks the courage to push back enemy forces. He bends easily and would rather have an ally help him than stand on his own.”
“Like when King Ryence attacked him. King Ban and Bors and a company of my own men saved him,” Britt said.
“That sound
s like Leodegrance, yes.”
Britt sighed, and King Pellinore once again rested a hand on Britt’s shoulder. “He’s not evil, Arthur. He’s just greedy.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps you should take a look at him and judge his conduct for yourself,” King Pellinore suggested. “When again will you have a chance to see him, unguarded and unaware of your presence?”
Britt nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you for your advice, Pellinore.”
King Pellinore shrugged. “You’re a great king, Arthur. Certainly you are a better king than I. Listen to your gut,” he suggested before striding back into the camp.
Britt thoughtfully scratched her cheek. “Judge for myself, huh,” she muttered. “I won’t stand with a man who may beat his horse—or his wife.”
None of the barely conscious knights paid much attention when Britt returned to her bedroll to collect Excalibur. She set off from camp at a walk, and by the time she reached Camelgrance, the sun was a disk on the horizon.
Britt entered the castle and made her way to the keep. The inner courtyard buzzed with activity. Servants swarmed like worker ants, carrying supplies in and out. They moved at an almost frenzied pace. Grooms stacked hay high in the stables and double the guards patrolled the castle walls as the day before.
After kicking up her heels for fifteen minutes, Britt realized how stupid her plan was. Just because I show up, there is no guarantee that Leodegrance is going to go off on a hunt or something, and I am not venturing into the keep without backup, Britt muttered as she left the inner courtyard. I was an idiot for coming here without telling anyone. Merlin is going to kill me, if Kay doesn’t throw me into a dungeon first.
Someone on the castle walls blew a horn, and Britt leapt out of the main road to avoid a heavily loaded wagon pulled by a team of oxen. A farmer and his family scurried at the wagon’s side, and Britt realized with unease that a great deal of people and animals from the farm land surrounding Camelgrance were pouring into the castle.
Britt ran the remaining distance to the castle gatehouse, dodging goats, chickens, and people. Fear curdled her blood when she saw that the gate portcullis—a wooden and metal grille—was down, blocking all traffic. A squad of soldiers was stationed around the portcullis and gatehouse. One of the soldiers blew a horn again.
“No,” Britt breathed as she lunged forward, pushing her way through the crowd of people gathered near the entrance.
Through the narrow window the portcullis provided, Britt could see a small squad of mounted knights, bearing a flag with a coat of arms Britt did not recognize.
One knight stood separate from the rest. He rode a red roan horse and carried a heavy-looking lance and a shield.
A racket arose behind Britt.
“Make way for the King!”
“Move. Step aside.”
A man Britt vaguely recognized galloped up to the portcullis, pulling his horse to a halt at the last moment. A troop of guards accompanied him, but it wasn’t until the knight on the red roan horse outside spoke that Britt recognized him.
“King Leodegrance, you are wise to cower behind your gates,” the knight shouted.
“What brings you to my doors so early and dressed for war, oh great Duke Maleagant?” King Leodegrance asked.
“I am here to learn if you are a friend or a foe,” the knight on the red roan horse said, who was evidently Duke Maleagant.
“Oh?” King Leodegrance said.
“Indeed. If you are a friend, I shall put aside my weapons, and we will feast together, toasting a blessed companionship,” the duke said.
“But certainly we are friends,” King Leodegrance said, nodding.
“If that is so, you will give me your daughter Guinevere as my wife,” Duke Maleagant said.
King Leodegrance didn’t even pause to think. “Absolutely, I would be much honored to call you my son-in-law.”
“In addition, you will grant me the lands that she will inherit from her mother,” Duke Maleagant said.
King Leodegrance hesitated, a fat frown spreading on his face.
“I will give you two days to decide if we are friends or foes. If, at the end of those days, you decide we are friends, we will put this matter aside and prepare a wedding feast. If, at the end of the two days, we are foes, I shall march against Camelgrance with the army I have brought to the borders of your lands.”
“My daughter Guinevere has many admirers. What do I tell them?” King Leodegrance asked, squeezing the reins of his horse’s bridle.
Duke Maleagant laughed. “If any man so deeply loves Guinevere that he dares to fight on her behalf, he may challenge me at the end of the two days. When he loses, I will kill him.”
“And if he wins?” King Leodegrance asked, perking up.
“No man can hope to win against me in combat. But should such a thing come about, I will leave these lands and relinquish all my demands. Now, I will wait the agreed-upon two days. Make your decision, king,” Maleagant said before he wheeled his horse around and rode off.
His companion knights did not follow him. Instead, they dismounted and started sliding gear off their horses, settling in and setting up camp.
“The gates remain closed,” King Leodegrance said to the soldiers before he, too, turned his horse around and rode back to the castle keep.
The crowd dispersed, and even the soldiers returned to their patrols and their positions. Only Britt remained, staring at the portcullis and knights that separated her from her men.
She was trapped.
4
Trapped
Britt sat on the edge of a fountain inside the castle gardens. Excalibur lay balanced on her lap, and she placed her hand upon it, as if stroking a cat or dog.
She was in trouble.
If King Leodegrance agreed to ally himself with Maleagant, the castle would open, and Britt would be free to return to her companions. However, Maleagant (and King Ryence) would likely march upon Camelot as soon as he was married to Guinevere.
If King Leodegrance grew a spine and said no, Britt would be locked in the castle when Maleagant laid siege to it. If she was lucky, Merlin would figure out where she was and bring an army from Camelot. If she was not lucky…
“The best scenarios involve war for my people.” Britt clenched her hands into fists. “I don’t want that.”
Her only hope was for a champion to fight Maleagant on Guinevere’s behalf. “Where is that priggish Lancelot when you need him?” Britt grumbled.
“Oh,” said a feminine voice.
Britt looked up to find a ladies maid, the same ladies maid who chased the white cat and helped her look for the Round Table the day before. “Good morning to you, My Lady,” Britt said, rallying a smile for the girl’s sake.
The young lady’s eyes grew large, and she clasped a hand to her chest. Without a word, she turned and ran, her skirts flapping as she disappeared into the castle.
“And now I frighten females. Wonderful.” She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes and listening to the fountain bubble at her back as she considered her options.
Britt was almost dozing—insomnia makes for great morning and mid-day naps—when she was again jarred from her thoughts.
“See!”
“My word, it’s true.”
Britt opened her eyes to the ladies maid, who stood with a lavishly dressed young maiden. She had reddish-blonde hair that was artfully arranged in a complex braid, wide eyes, and a smile that said she was exactly aware how beautiful she was. She was a little older than the ladies maid, but certainly not more than seventeen or eighteen.
Britt instantly recognized her, even though she had seen her only once before with Merlin. This teenage girl was the infamous Guinevere. Britt knew because she had burned her image in her mind as someone to distrust and dislike.
“I thought my luck was bad to bring Lancelot to my courts, but to encounter both of them in the same week? Wretched,” Britt grumbled.
“Are you an Elf King?�
� Guinevere asked.
Merlin would throttle her if he learned she had treated the daughter of a king with disrespect. So Britt flattened her lips and arranged her expression into one of amusement. “Although I am often asked that question, I can tell you with certainty, I am not.”
“A faerie lord then?”
“No, I am not that either.”
“But surely you must be. I have never before met one so striking as you,” Guinevere persisted.
Britt didn’t understand why people insisted she was so comely—she was not gorgeous, after all; she wasn’t even a man—and shrugged. “That reveals more about the people you have met than it does of me,” Britt said, standing and strapping Excalibur to her belt.
Guinevere approached Britt and extended a hand.
Britt caught her by the wrist when she almost touched Britt’s face. “What are you doing?”
Guinevere gazed up at Britt. “I am staring into the face of the noblest man in Britain.”
Britt smiled again to keep from laughing. Guinevere sounded like a lovesick high school girl. If this was her character, it was no surprise she eventually fell for Lancelot. “I regret to inform you, but you do not,” Britt said, dropping Guinevere’s arm and backing away.
“How can you say that?” Guinevere said, batting her thick eyelashes at Britt.
Britt was not impressed. “Because I apparently have met more men than you have and know better. If you will excuse me, My Lady.”
“You leave?”
“I do.”
“How can you?”
“Quite easily, I assure you.”
Tears welled up in Guinevere’s eyes. “Will you not give me a token to remember you by?”
Britt frowned. “You’re nuts, aren’t you?” she said before recovering and adopting the proper words. “Forgive me, My Lady, but we have met for but a few moments. What is there to remember?”
“A pure love that began on a spring morn,” Guinevere said. Her tears began to flow, and Britt was still unmoved. She was about to tell Guinevere so when another lady’s maid scrambled into the gardens.
“My Lady, your father the King calls for you,” the lady’s maid said.
