by Donna Hosie
“You disappearing might kill her. I doubt she would even notice I was gone.”
“Don’t be like that, Titch. It’s hard for her - and what with dad acting like a total douche…”
“They’re going to get divorced, aren’t they?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Arthur was pulling at a loose black thread from my fingerless gloves; the hole was getting bigger and bigger.
“I’m never getting married.”
“What if Bedivere asked you?” said Arthur slyly.
“No way. I’m far too young to get married and have kids.”
Arthur dropped the thread and rubbed at his temples yet again.
“Just be careful, Titch.”
“Me be careful? Hmm, Mr. Pot, meet Mr. Kettle. He ran off after a rabbit and got himself locked in a dungeon, which is where he would still be if I hadn’t rescued his sorry ass.”
Arthur laughed.
“We’re a pretty good team, aren’t we? You and me. King Arthur and Lady Natasha: the first girl knight of Camelot.”
“The day I call you king will be the day I eat raw liver, loser.” I flicked him on the nose with my glove.
“How are we going to get them back to our place? Eight of us won’t fit in the car. I can take five at a push.”
“That’s okay,” I replied, looking over to the tent where the knights were now arguing over a yellow bottle of mustard. “You can take Tristram, Gareth, Talan and David, and I’ll take Bedivere on the train.”
“And what about Sammy?” Arthur’s voice was strained.
“Can’t we just leave her here?”
“For God’s sake, Titch,” snapped Arthur. “The two of you have got to stop fighting. You’ll be the death of me, the pair of you.”
He stood up suddenly; the white plastic chair he had been sitting on fell backwards.
“I’ll take Sammy, Tristram, Gareth and David in the car. Talan can go with you and Bedivere on the train; I have a suspicion Talan’ll quite enjoy it. We’ll meet at the Horse and Hound pub around the corner from the house first, because I’m not sure mum’s nerves can take too many surprises right now, and so it would be better if we all turn up at once. And Titch, phone me if there’s any trouble. The last thing we need is any of them getting into hassle with the police while they’re here. You could bust me out of Camelot, but I don’t think we would be able to do the same at Paddington Police Station.”
“Did you honestly think you’d never see them again?” I asked, as we started to walk towards the food tent.
“Did you?” asked Arthur.
I bit down on my bottom lip. I could hear a bell tolling in the distance.
“I never gave up hope,” I whispered.
“Then hold onto it,” replied Arthur darkly, “because once you’ve lost that, there’s nothing left.”
Chapter Four
Trouble Underground
The crowds started to leave just after three o’clock. By four it was just the die-hard stragglers, the organisers and us who were left. The knights were having so much fun it was proving impossible to pull them away from the combat ring. I thought that they would have to resort to fighting amongst themselves, as the spectators grew wise to their talents, but there’s no fool like a boy, and the opponents just kept on volunteering. Even Arthur had a couple of fights, although Bedivere had to be held back from jumping the fence and joining in when it looked like Arthur was going to lose.
He didn’t though, and by the time we made it to Arthur’s battered excuse for a car, he had a shiny black eye to match Talan’s thick lip and David’s bloody, bandaged left arm. David had been hurt in his final joust, but his opponent had been so shocked to actually make contact he had fallen off his horse in surprise. All six, including my brother, had been given phone numbers by girls, women old enough to be their mothers, and even a couple that could have been grandmothers. I took great delight in ripping them all up, especially the phone number that belonged to the shameless tart that tried to chat up Bedivere as I was standing right next to him.
“Why can’t they all go on the train?” whined Slurpy, as we reached the car park: yet another muddy field across a narrow dirt track. “What if something dangerous happens because they’re in the car? We might crash.”
“I’d be more worried about the damn thing holding together, more than anything else,” I snapped back. Slurpy just scowled, as Arthur stroked his car and told it to ignore his horrible sister.
The knights were all standing back. It was clear they weren’t sure about these gleaming metal beasts, as Tristram had described them.
“This is how we travel in our time,” I explained. “Cars are faster than horses.”
“But pray tell, where are the reins?” asked David.
Arthur opened the door - the rusty hinges creaked and groaned - and turned the engine over. “Trust me,” he said.
The knights had no choice. Tristram, Gareth and David climbed into the back seat – Slurpy refused to give up the front passenger seat, even though they were all taller than her – and after much jabbing of swords and knocking of elbows, they were settled in. Arthur was near to tears after spending ten minutes trying to get them to put their seat belts on correctly.
“It’s the law, Tristram,” he cried, after Tristram lost his temper and tried to sever the seat belt with his knife. “If we get stopped and you’re not strapped in, I’ll get arrested.”
I couldn’t speak; I was on the verge of wetting myself with laughter.
“Bedivere, Talan, your swords will have to go in the trunk,” said Arthur.
“But what if we need to defend our honour?” asked Talan.
“I will acquiesce, Arthur, but I will not leave Natasha unprotected from the scallions of this strange time,” replied Bedivere. “I will relinquish my sword, but a smaller blade stays on my person.”
Arthur clearly didn’t have the energy to argue. Darkness was starting to inch over the field and there were no street lights.
“It’s going to take you an hour to walk to the train station, Titch,” muttered Arthur. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
“I’m safer walking with Bedivere and Talan than riding in that heap of junk,” I replied.
“Call me when you get to London.”
“Will you stop worrying?”
“It’s a big brother’s job.”
“I think you’re going to have a harder time getting to London in one piece than I will,” I sniggered, gazing over Arthur’s shoulder as David managed to activate the car alarm with his boot.
“God give me strength,” said Arthur. “Right now I’d take a room full of Saxons over this.”
Finally, everyone was strapped in, the car alarm was immobilised after Arthur hit it with a spanner, and his little white car bumped up and down as he drove across the muddy field and out onto the dirt track.
“What a magnificent beast,” said Talan, with a dramatic sigh. “I would have been honoured to have ridden it.”
I linked arms with both knights. “You wait until you see how we are going to ride, Talan.”
An hour and a half later, we arrived on foot at the train station. We would have gotten there a lot sooner, but Talan kept doubling back to explore everything.
“Stop drawing attention to yourself, Talan,” I hissed, as he jumped on and off the ascending escalator for the fifth time.
“But they are magical steps,” he cried with delight, jumping down again.
Bedivere had gone very quiet.
“Are you okay?” I squeezed his hand.
“Your time is filled with noise, and people who look without seeing.”
Eventually, I got Bedivere and Talan onto the train, and settled them into a row of two situated at the very back. I sat across the aisle from them.
“I am happy to bear witness to my own company, Lady Natasha, if you and Sir Bedivere would like to get reacquainted,” said Talan, with a cheeky grin.
“Thank you, Talan, but I want
you both where I can see you,” I replied. As much as I wanted to snuggle in with Bedivere, and have him to myself for an hour until we reached Waterloo, I simply couldn’t risk taking my eyes off the Irishman. The second I started kissing Bedivere, I could guarantee Talan would be up with the train driver causing untold carnage.
It was a shame it was dark outside for the hour-long train journey. I had a feeling that both knights would have loved to see the open countryside, speeding past us in a massive green blur. Instead, they had nothing to distract them from the jolts and noise of the intercity train, and because we were separated by the aisle in the carriage, we couldn’t talk openly without being overheard by other passengers, who were already staring at the cloaked strangers.
He had travelled through time to find me, just as he promised, but with nothing but time on my hands, I began to panic that Bedivere was already starting to regret coming.
NO, I said forcibly to myself. I will not be that kind of girl. I was the only female Knight of the Round Table. I had battled dwarf-riders and dragons and magical druids and Saxons. This awful love business was not going to reduce me to a puddle of goo on the floor, not now I had Bedivere back.
Just keep telling yourself that, whispered my inner voice malevolently.
The closer we got to London, the more people started boarding the train. It was a Saturday night, and by the time we reached Waterloo, Bedivere and Talan, dressed in their cloaks, tunics and long leather boots, didn’t look so strange, compared to everyone else travelling into the clubs and bars of West London.
“Stay close to me,” I whispered, holding both Bedivere and Talan by the arm. “We now have to travel on something called the Underground.”
Bedivere’s right hand was hovering close to his dagger, which was hidden under his cloak. His green eyes darted in all directions, as the crowds surged towards the Underground platforms. I bought tickets for the three of us, and moved Bedivere and Talan towards the brown-labelled Bakerloo line. Talan watched in amazement as the ticket machine snatched the little card out of my fingers and swallowed it whole. I had to push him through the turnstile, and then yell at him to stay still, while I manoeuvred myself and Bedivere through.
Warm wind from the tunnels breezed through the dirty-tiled corridors, as we moved deeper below the ground.
“This is the really noisy part,” I yelled, as the roar of an approaching tube train exploded out of the darkness. “Put your fingers in your ears if it’s too much.”
Suddenly Bedivere lunged forward and grabbed a guy around the neck. In seconds, the spotty kid’s arm was twisted behind his back, as Bedivere pushed his face into the wall, narrowly missing a chocolate vending machine that was fixed to the cracked tiles.
“You will return what you just dishonourably claimed from the lady, or I will strike you down for the rats to gorge on your worthless blood,” he snarled.
Sure enough, a middle-aged woman in a long red coat suddenly starting squealing that her purse was missing.
“All right, all right,” cried the young man, snivelling. “I was only picking it up. I would ‘ave given it back to her.”
Bedivere forced the boy to kneel on the ground in front of the woman who had been robbed.
“M’lady, this braggart wishes to return to your person that which does not belong to him.”
Scowling, the young man handed back the rectangular leather purse with a silver and black Prada badge. She whacked him over the head with it, and then got onto the waiting tube train without a single word of thanks. The thief pulled away from Bedivere, and ran off along the platform, as the doors slid shut and the train roared away into the hungry black mouth of the tunnel, leaving Bedivere and myself alone on the windy platform.
“Miserable old cow didn’t even say thank you.”
Bedivere shrugged. “A knight of Camelot does not tarry for gratitude. To come to a maiden’s assist is one of a knight’s tenets.”
“Well, I thought you were amazing,” I said, reaching up to kiss his warm soft mouth.
Soon Bedivere and I were propped up against a wall, kissing madly until I had to pull myself away in order to breathe. A lovely swooping sensation had filled my stomach, like the dive-bombing moths buzzing around the neon lights that lit up the station. His fingers lingered around my neck as he kept pulling me back in. His long chestnut hair was soft and smelt of bread and beer.
“Where is Sir Talan?”
I pulled away suddenly as Bedivere spoke, looked left and right, and then ran back across the platform in the same direction as the thief.
Bedivere and I were the only people waiting.
“He must have gotten on the tube train.”
I pulled out my cell phone, but we were so far underground there was no reception. Swearing like the world was ending and I was at ground zero, I grabbed Bedivere’s hand and pulled him back towards the exit.
“But we must wait, for surely Sir Talan will return to us?” questioned Bedivere, resisting me.
“And if we don’t stop that train, Sir-Can’t-Sit-Still-For-A-Minute will be halfway to Watford.”
I’m not sure why I was explaining this to Bedivere. He had no idea where Watford was. I may as well have said the moon.
After many countless minutes of agonised waiting, an underground inspector managed to get hold of the train driver. I couldn’t lie, and so I stumbled through an explanation that Talan was new to London and he wouldn’t understand the maps, even though he was twenty years old. I ended up making him sound like a care in the community case.
Forty minutes later, and with my nails and cuticles butchered by my teeth, a singing Talan was returned to us by a young woman in a fluorescent yellow jacket. She didn’t look a day older than me, and seemed rather disappointed to be parted from the Irishman.
“Fair maiden of the land of Piccadilly,” said Talan, bowing to the girl in the fluorescent jacket. “I am forever your humble servant.”
The girl laughed through her pierced nose.
“So you’ll call me?”
“I will call you in song for as long as I breathe in this fair land.”
“Thank you so much for finding him,” I said to her, stepping forward, making sure I got Talan’s foot underneath my boot.
“If either of you lets go for one second, I swear I will gut you both with the knives you carry,” I said through gritted teeth, as we made our way back to the platform. Talan was still bowing and waving to the girl who had found him.
“Where have you been?” cried Arthur, as we finally made it through the doors of the Horse and Hound pub. It was my brother’s hangout, and was just a few minutes walk away from the square we now lived in: my nineteenth house in seventeen years.
“Get me a drink,” I groaned. “I’ve never needed a vodka and coke more in my life.”
“No, you’re too young.”
Tristram, Gareth and David were all gulping pints of cloudy-looking beer. They saw us, and beckoned us over with big, gormless grins on their faces.
“How much have they had to drink?”
“We’ve been waiting for ages.”
“So you got them drunk? Mum is going to do her head in if we arrive back with a group of pissed strangers who look like tramps.”
Arthur was on the verge of arguing back, when we heard it: a deep, sonorous bell that was tolling, clearer and louder than before.
“Merlin’s calling for you.”
I don’t know what made me say it; I certainly hadn’t been thinking it. I was too annoyed and hungry to be thinking about Camelot and myths and legends.
But that was the night the visions started.
Chapter Five
Terror Visions
Slurpy was nowhere to be seen. Arthur said she had returned to the house without him.
“She’s not happy about all of this,” he muttered. “Tristram thought the pool cues were weapons and challenged some guy in tattoos to a fight; he damn near started a riot. Then Gareth managed to flood the toilets
after he left the taps on.”
“They’re just exploring a new world,” I replied. “Your girlfriend is a self-absorbed piece of...”
“Titch, will you please try to get on with Sammy. How would you feel if Bedivere and I were fighting all the time?”
“But Bedivere isn’t a slutty, raving psycho...”
Our arguing was interrupted by Gareth. We were all now standing outside the noisy Horse and Hound pub, and Gareth was trying to dislodge the ringing in his ears by banging his head with his hand.
“Is your homestead far, Arthur?” asked the knight, who now had his head upside down. “Will we need to ride on...car once more?”
“You ride in the car, not on it,” replied Arthur, “and we just need to walk for a few minutes now.”
“I’ll walk behind, just to make sure we don’t lose anyone,” I said, looking around for Talan, but he had disappeared yet again.
“For the love of God. Where is he now?”
We found Talan back inside the Horse and Hound pub. He had discovered the karaoke machine. It took four of us to drag him out, and even then he was still singing “Hey Jude” into the microphone.
“The dwellings in your time are so very grand, and yet so close together,” said Tristram, as we strolled along the pavement. “I would not care for so little land. Where do the lords of this time keep their livestock?”
“Well, I used to have a rabbit,” I replied, thinking back to my Mr. Rochester, who had led Arthur and me into the land of Logres late last summer. “He lived in our garden.”
“And who are the lord and lady of this land?” asked David. He was the only knight still wobbling from the effects of the drink. The others had sobered up pretty quickly in the bitter February night wind.
“The Queen is called Elizabeth.”
“Then we should call on Queen Elizabeth and pay our respects whilst we tarry in this time,” said Talan.
“Unfortunately I’m not sure her guards would appreciate it, and don’t you dare go wandering off to find her,” I replied. I would have to find a leash for Talan at this rate.
