by P. C. Cast
She turned and focused on Mary. “Now tell me, please, what happened.”
Mary swiped away the tears. “May we please go to your chambers to talk?”
“Of course.”
Isabel tried questioning Mary as they ascended the stairs, but Mary kept shaking her head. Isabel figured Mary wanted complete privacy, which she understood, knowing that Mary had been shunned by many of her peers, lately.
Mary pulled her into her own room, almost shoved her farther, and then kicked the door closed.
“What happened, Mary? Let me help. Maybe you and James can talk this through. You love him. You have told me as much. He treats you like gold. What went wrong?”
Mary’s tears dried up as if she were facing the sun in the Mojave. “If James and I are to exchange vows happily, Isabel, then we need those standing witness to be happy as well.”
“I’m sorry? Mary, I don’t understand.”
Mary stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. She smiled at Isabel and said, “Tom taught me that when he was doing my teeth-cleaning.”
Isabel was considering how she was going to punish her friend when her door flew open and James entered, dragging a blindfolded Arthur in his wake.
“James, this has become not my favorite prank,” Arthur said. “I went along, but now this might have gone a bit far.”
Isabel glanced at Mary. “Traitor,” she whispered.
Mary shrugged.
James pulled the blindfold from around Arthur’s head. Arthur blinked and looked around. As soon as he spotted Isabel and Mary, he glared at James. “Traitor.”
James shrugged.
James and Mary, looking so immensely pleased with themselves, banded together.
“You two are standing up for us during our vows in just days,” James said. “And you will, and I mean will, be happy at our ceremony.”
“James,” Arthur began.
James held up his beefy hand. “You know, King Arthur, that I am loyal to you. I will run with you into battle, and I will protect you until my dying breath.”
“And you, Countess Isabel,” Mary said. “You have become a friend such as I may never know again. I would stand afore you in any situation where someone would do you harm.”
“But we are tired,” James said, taking up the apparent narrative, “of your surliness of late. As you have been avoiding one another as the plague the past days, we can only surmise that there are . . . are ...”
“Issues,” Mary finished. “Those which need be aired and addressed. You will,” she said, pointing back and forth between the two, “fix these problems afore our marriage vows.”
“Whate’er happened betwixt the two of you,” James said.
“Get over it!” they yelled in unison.
With that, the two huffed their way out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them with a decided bang.
Isabel and Arthur stared at each other for several moments, and then broke out in laughter.
“I believe we have both just been spanked by our parents,” Isabel gasped.
“I’m feeling decidedly unkingly,” Arthur said. “Just when did I lose control?”
“No,” she said, still laughing. “It shows just what a great king you are.”
“Surely, you jest,” he said. “My first man just berated me.”
Oh, how Isabel wanted to say, “Don’t call me Shirley.” But somehow she was fairly certain the joke would not translate.
“Don’t you realize how excellent this is?” she asked.
“Perhaps I do not recognize the underlying meaning behind two servants giving their king a dressing down, as it were.”
“The underlying meaning, your Highness, is that they love you enough, they trust you enough to take such extreme measures. They know that you will not punish them, because they trust that you care.”
“Ah, mayhap the difference between my people and you. James and Mary, at least, trust that I care.”
Isabel stared at him while she mentally pulled the dagger out of her chest. “I never realized you had a cruel side, Arthur. It’s good to know. It helps me so much in getting over you.”
He strode over to her. “Isabel, I did not mean—”
“You touch me and I will take out both your knees.”
“Then take them,” he said, grabbing hold of her shoulders. “Go. Do it. But I am going to hold on to you until you listen to me if I have need to I will take you down with me when my legs become useless.”
It was totally disgusting that his hands on her already had her body responding as if he were moving them all over her, not just holding on to her upper arms.
“I believe I have heard enough.”
“No, you heard just enough to form conclusions. Incorrect conclusions, as it turns out. For a smart, compassionate woman, Isabel, I cannot understand how you would hear only part of my story and instantly believe the worst of me. Ye gods, woman, we had spent the evening together in the most intimate of ways. And yet not an hour later you shut me out. You closed your hearing and your mind. Were you already regretting what we shared?”
“No, but you said Gwen wanted . . .”
“I know what I said, Isabel. I also know what you refused to allow me to finish. Are you willing to allow me the opportunity now?”
“I’m listening. I’m not ruling out the knee-kicking thing, but I’m listening.”
“That is a start,” he said, letting her go. He turned and walked two steps, then spun around and stepped right back to her. “What you ne’er allowed me to finish the other night was that I turned Gwen down. I do not want her any longer. I have not for some time. When she asked if we could try to go back, I said no, Isabel. I told her that now she was betraying not just me, but now Lance, as well. I recovered from the pain. Truth be told, I fell for another. You. But I fear Lance would not. You saw him at the cottage. He was near to mindless with grief and anger and worry.
“I returned to you, because with you was where I wanted to be. And I wanted to talk it out with you. Do you honestly believe I would climb back into your bed furs to say to you that I had decided that we had fun, but alas, I had decided to start over with Gwen? Just how cruel do you believe me to be?”
Isabel stood, stunned. “Oh. My. God. You tried. And I didn’t let you. I was so afraid that it was a farewell gesture that—”
“Shhh,” he said, putting a finger to her lips. “I understand your upset and confusion, Isabel. Please remember how quickly I grew angry at the thought of you with other men. Add to that that I am still married to Gwen, it is understandable why you would leap to that conclusion. Were the situation in the reverse, I fear I may have done the same.”
“You are giving me an excuse, when I have none. No, you would not have done the same. You would have listened. But, Arthur, I was so afraid that what we had . . .”
“I know, love, I know,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.
“Why are you so forgiving when I don’t deserve it?”
He chuckled into her hair. “Perhaps because it is the kingly thing to do?”
“No, the kingly thing to do is telling people to do this, or people to do that.”
“Then perhaps it is something a man does when he loves a woman.”
“I’ll take that one for a thousand, Alex.”
He grinned, brushing her hair from her face as he kissed her temple, her forehead, her nose. “I know not what that even means, and I find I do not care. I know not who this Alex is, but I do not care. What matters most to me is that we clear this misunderstanding betwixt us.”
“Oh, Arthur,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, standing on tiptoe to rain kisses over his neck. “I am so very sorry.”
“As am I. I am certain that there should have been a much better way to relate the events.” He smiled down at her. “Okay, I fibbed. I am curious as to what you will trade for a thousand whate’ers. And who this Alex is.”
“It is a game we play at home. It
is a reverse thing. You, the player, will be given the answer, and then you will formulate what the question would be.”
“Pardon?”
“Exactly. Although actually it would be, ‘What is pardon?’ ”
He shook his head. “I am baffled, love.”
“For example, someone would say, ‘The land that King Arthur loves passionately.’ Then you would respond, ‘What is Camelot?’ ”
“This is a game you play in Dumont?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then,” he said. “I believe I understand the rules.”
She laughed. “Okay, the answer is, ‘The woman who is crazy about King Arthur.’ What is the question?”
“I am hoping the question is, ‘Who is Countess Isabel?’”
“Correct!”
“Then I have one for you.”
“Lay it on me, big boy.”
“The kingly thing Arthur is about to tell his woman—as is his right, mind you, as kingly matter involve telling you to do that and you to do this—to do.”
“What is take off the king’s kingly clothes?”
“Not exactly the one I was going for, but it very much works for me, Isabel. So I will give you a correct on that one.”
Isabel went to work obeying his kingly command. “You know, every once in a while there is more than one right response.”
“Good. My question was, ‘What is allow the king to help the countess in taking off her clothes?’”
“See, more than one right response,” she said.
MARY and James walked down the hall hand in hand, both grinning. “We may be in so much trouble,” Mary said.
“Did you hear a single thing shatter?”
“I did not.”
“Then I believe we are safe,” James said.
“Isabel would ne’er hurt me. I am certain. No matter the outcome, good or bad, she will forgive me. But King Arthur?”
“Would ne’er hurt you, Mary. Nor me.”
She stared up at her giant of a future husband. “How do you know?”
“Because he is the kindest man I have e’er met. He is tough in the battle training, no question. But always, always fair to all. No matter the outcome, he will most assuredly forgive us for he will realize our good intentions.”
“Then we did okay.”
“We did better than okay. Last I heard they were sharing laughter.”
Mary stopped James. “There is a ritual in Isabel’s land where you celebrate success.”
“What is it?”
“It is called a high five.” She held up her palm and waited for him to follow suit. He stood looking confused.
“Hold up your hand!”
He did, and Mary smacked it, grinning. “High five!”
“What does this mean?”
“It is a sign of success. I am guessing that the two are making up as we speak.”
James grinned down at his love. He held up his palm. She looked at him curiously but smacked palms with him.
“High five,” she said. “What was that one for?”
“For my luck that the lady I love returns those feelings. And that I will soon be the happiest husband alive.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AT the sound of the knock, Gwen glanced up from her bed to find the countess standing there, looking quite beautiful in a wine-colored gown.
In comparison, Gwen knew she most likely appeared pale and disheveled and that this bed gown was not at all flattering. “Please,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “enter.”
Isabel stepped into the room and that was when Gwen realized Isabel was holding some sort of black garment in her hand. “How are you feeling this morning, Gwen?”
“I believe somewhat better,” Gwen said. Which was a bit of a lie. In truth, other than a lingering tenderness in her chest, she felt just fine. However, as long as she was abed, she knew that Arthur would continue to visit her, and she might have time to change his mind.
’Twas not that she had stopped loving Lance. Truth was, she loved him desperately. But she feared the loss of her husband just as desperately.
She was being so very selfish, she knew. And deep inside she felt such shame. But since she had been so very young when Arthur had courted and then married her, she knew no other life. And fear of the unknown was a powerful thing.
“What have you there?” she asked, nodding at Isabel’s hands.
“We’ll visit that in a moment. I spoke with Tom this morning as we broke fast. He tells me that he sees no reason why you are not up and about by now.”
“What business is it of yours?”
“Probably none. But the day-to-day running of Camelot is your business. And your servants are feeling lost without your steadying presence. They are concerned and confused. They need you, Gwen.”
“You know this how?”
“During our daily recesses I hear things.”
Gwen sat up further in her bed. “You have continued with the recesses without my consent?”
“You were in no shape to give consent.”
“Does Arthur know about this?”
“He does. He has no objections. But the point is, your people miss you, Gwen. It would do them a world of good to see you up and about.”
“Why has Arthur not voiced this opinion?”
“Because he is concerned for your health. He is not a healer. He doesn’t know that, for whatever reason, you are staying abed long after you have needed to do so.”
“But you do.”
“Well, Tom does.”
“My chest is still quite sore, and I hear I have you to thank for that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I did not mean that in a nice way.”
“I knew that. I recognize sarcasm when I hear it.”
Gwen knew she was being petty. In fact, she was aware that if not for this woman’s ministrations, she might not have survived. She lowered her eyes. “I am so sorry. That was mean.”
“No apologies necessary. I understand that illness tends to make people not themselves. You are a very nice woman, Gwen, with a big heart. I . . . we . . . that is Tom does not understand why you are not itching to get out of that bed and get back to the business of being queen.”
“Why does this matter to you?”
“Because I hate to see your servants worry. They feel adrift without their queen’s guiding hand.”
“I will consider what you say. However, I would like to hear the same from Arthur’s lips.”
“Arthur is not going to demand that you get up. He also has his hands full preparing for the meeting of the knights. But he could certainly use your help in that matter.”
Gwen nodded. “I see.”
“There is also the matter of the wedding between James and Mary. Plans to be made. A menu to prepare. Tell me, is there nothing more fun than helping a bride to prepare for the most important day of her life?”
“’Tis a lot of fun,” Gwen said.
“It sure is. Do you really want to miss out on that?”
Gwen cocked her head. “Tell me, Countess, why you have never married.”
“I’m very picky.”
“Does that mean you do not ever want to be wed?”
Isabel seemed to hesitate. “I don’t rule anything out. Perhaps. Someday.”
“Just waiting for the right man?”
“Something like that.”
“All right, Countess, you have made your point and I have much to mull over. Now please tell me what is in your hands.”
Isabel held up the black garment. “Your breeches.”
Gwen nearly choked. “Breeches?”
“Yes, remember, right before you became ill, you had the seamstresses busy making breeches for the women?”
Gwen frowned. “Yes, yes, I have a vague memory of that.”
“Well, these were made for you, in case you decide to join us at recess.”
Rubbing her temples, Gwen asked, “Remind me agai
n why we decided breeches for women was a good idea.”
“So that they have more freedom during their morning recess. They do not have to worry about displaying more of their legs or worse while they play.”
“Do you wear these breeches?”
Isabel grinned and lifted her skirts. Yes, indeed, she was sporting a pair of these things. She laid the pants at the foot of Gwen’s bed. “We will be gathering in the bailey in a short while, should you decide to join us.” She nodded her head and moved to leave.
“Isabel?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“May I ask a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Can you find Jenny and let her know I have need of her services?”
Isabel smiled. “Gladly. Welcome back, Gwen.”
“Thank you.”
“SO?” Mary asked as the women gathered round.
Isabel shrugged. “We shall see.”
“Whate’er,” Madeline, one of the cooks said. “We thank you for trying.”
“Thank me if it works.”
“What are we doing today, mum?”
“We are playing a thing called baseball. Well, a Camelot version of baseball,” she amended.
As she went to place the four small rushes around the yard, she explained, “We will divide into two teams. The teams take turns being the ones trying to score points and the ones trying to keep the other team from scoring points.
“The team trying to score points will send one player at a time to here,” she said, dropping one of the rushes on the ground. “This is called home base. The player will toss a rock as far as she wants, but try to keep it from heading straight to a member of the other team, who will be scattered around the other bases, trying to defend—”
“Mum!” Mary squealed, then nodded her head toward the far side of the bailey. “The queen. She is coming.”
Sure enough, Gwen came running over, holding up her skirts just enough that Isabel caught a glimpse of black beneath them.
Everyone in the bailey seemed to freeze as they watched their queen join the ladies.
They all curtsied and remained in that position, heads down.
“Please rise,” Gwen said. “We have games to play. So what have I missed?”