by P. C. Cast
AFTER the celebration for Ashton and Jenny settled, Arthur again stood up upon the table.
“We have more to be thankful for this evening. We have peace without any Camelot blood shed.” A roar from the crowd almost had Arthur wanting to cover his ears. He attempted to settle down the shouts by moving his arms up and down.
“Please, I care for my hearing and yours,” he said. “A very, very low roar would be welcome. May we practice that?”
He received just as he asked.
“Excellent. Now, we had Countess Isabel to thank for much of this. Her quick thinking helped us.”
“And our friends in the kitchens,” Isabel yelled. “And the queen and Jenny and Mary. And all of you, willing to fight for Camelot and all it means to you.”
“I was getting to that Isabel,” Arthur said. “For once, just once, allow me.”
“Sorry.”
He shook his head. “The success yesterday came about because all of you, all of you, took part to keep Camelot safe. I am so proud of everyone and feeling so blessed that I count each and every one of you my friends. I am proud of my son, Mordred, who stepped up to a daunting challenge and succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”
Isabel looked around, finally finding Mordred standing still as a statue, staring at his father. She smiled. Their relationship was so going to be okay. Better than okay.
“When that day comes that I choose to retire from service to Camelot, I truly believe that Mordred will wear that crown well and continue the legacy that is Camelot.
“To Mordred! And to the men who willingly followed with him to carry out something of a distasteful task!” Arthur said.
“To Mordred and his men!” the people answered.
“Many more of these toasts, and there will be a hall full of lying-down drunk people,” Isabel whispered to Gwen.
Gwen giggled, although her eyes roamed the hall.
Isabel didn’t have to guess who Gwen was seeking out.
“He’s over there, Gwen, by the entrance to the formal dining room.”
Gwen looked over then nodded. “I so wish I could join him, Isabel. As I am certain you wish you could be at Arthur’s side.”
“I know, Gwen. I know. What a sorry pair we are, aren’t we?”
“Or, depending on your thoughts, how lucky we are. We both have men who love us. There are many who cannot claim as much.”
Isabel was stopped cold. “Wow, Gwen. Those are the wisest words I have heard in a long time. It truly puts things in perspective.”
Gwen looked at her. “I was not born with wisdom, Isabel. But I have watched yours over the days and have tried to learn.”
“Damn, I don’t know about my own wisdom, Your Highness, but I can state for a fact that you are a supremely good student.”
“If nothing else, Countess, you are the best model of wisdom I have e’er met.”
Isabel laughed, then hugged her. “We will work this out.”
“And, may I make just one more comment?” Gwen asked.
“Of course.”
“You talk funny.”
Isabel nearly bent over with laughter. “I know. And I thank you for trying to understand what I am saying.”
“What ‘I’m’ saying is how you would actually pronounce it. You cut down your words in such an intriguing manner.”
“Oh, Gwen, you would be head of the class.”
“I will take that as a compliment, although I know not what that even means.”
“Trust me, it’s a compliment.”
“And it is my turn, Isabel, to return the goodness in your heart. It is, as I have heard you say, a ‘pay it forward’ moment.” She thrust her goblet of wine into Isabel’s hands. “Here. Drink this. You might have need.”
And while Isabel stood there, astonished, she watched Queen Guinevere push off from the wall and run to Arthur. She whispered in his ear, and he shook his head adamantly. But apparently Gwen was on a mission, and she was not to be denied. She dragged Arthur to the great table and climbed up, with his help. Then she gestured for him to join her.
Arthur looked over at Isabel with a “what the hell” expression she had no answer for. She shrugged her own confusion, then did as Gwen suggested. She took a major sip of that wine.
“All?” Gwen called out, then waited while those in the hall stopped their merriment to listen.
“I have a confession,” Gwen said, “that needs to be told. You deserve the truth.”
“Do not do this, Gwen,” Isabel yelled, dreading what she feared Gwen’s confession might be.
“That would be ‘don’t do this, Gwen,’ to you, Isabel.”
Arthur broke out laughing. “So you noticed as well?”
“We have all noticed that the countess speaks differently,” said someone in the crowd. “But she speaks wisely.”
“Correct, Christopher,” Gwen said. “Another pouring of mead for Christopher, please.”
“Gwen, what in Hades are you doing?” Arthur asked.
“Correcting a wrong,” Gwen said.
“This is neither the time nor the place.”
“This is the perfect time and place. For all here deserve the truth.”
“Gwen, do not do this. The repercussions.”
“Are something I can live . . . or die with. The lies, no.”
“Good gods,” Arthur said.
“Here is the truth, good people,” Gwen announced. “I have been untrue to the kindest man I have e’er known. Our king.”
Oh, for land fucking sakes, Isabel thought. She feels the need to pour her heart out now? Isabel drained Gwen’s goblet, then asked for another. If there was a time to be drunk, this was it.
“I accept the consequences of this,” Gwen continued. “Should you all decide to punish me, that is up to you. But I will not ever regret or rescind my love for . . . another.”
Arthur planted his hand over her mouth, probably before she helped her executioners pick out just which ropes on which to hang her.
“Who is he?” several shouted. “We will hunt him and exact the punishment!”
“’Tis not treason!” Arthur yelled. “Not when I condoned that love. I knew and gave them full permission to follow their hearts. ’Tis not treason when your king said aye to them. I wanted, desperately, for the two to follow their hearts. Any who would lay harm to either will answer to me. How we resolve the issues will be up to us. This I demand. No harm to either. Is this understood by all?”
“Aye, King Arthur,” many said.
“And while we are at admissions of truth,” he began.
No, Arthur, please! Isabel thought, although she knew he and Gwen were on a truth-telling roll that was not about to end anytime soon.
Arthur glanced over at her first.
“I’ll take Shut the Hell Up Right Now for a thousand, Arthur,” she said.
“What is, no way, Countess?” he shouted back at her.
“Oh, good gods,” she whispered.
Mary ran over to her and grabbed her hand. “’Tis for the best,” she said.
“The best for whom?” Isabel asked.
“For all here. The queen had need to speak her heart. And by the by, you truly do talk funny.”
“Great. And now you are turning on me as well, Mary?”
“Have you not been listening, Isabel? No one is turning on you. All are standing up for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mary,” Isabel said. “I just don’t want the king and queen to be scorned by the people of Camelot.”
“HERE is the rub, ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur said, figuring he wasn’t letting Gwen fall on the sword alone. He knew not what provoked her unhealthy honesty, but if she felt the need to spill to all, he was not allowing her to do it by herself. “I have also found myself deeply in love. ’Twas not meant to happen, I did not seek it out, but the fates decreed it so.
“Can you believe I have fallen for that funny-speaking woman?” he asked, pointing straight at Isabel. “’Tis true. I am de
sperately in love with Countess Isabel. And Queen Guinevere is in love with another. We are all happy about it. So should one of you set out to harm the queen or the countess while we work out the details to make certain the right men are with the right women, I will invoke my power as king. We have the right to certain mistakes in the past and the right to fix those mistakes to the happiness of all. Should any hold judgment against our women, take a good hard look into your very own hearts.”
“Happiness to all!” James bellowed, holding up his stein. “’Tis what Camelot is about, after all.”
“Happiness to all!” most, if not all, of the guests, called, also holding up their various steins and goblets in toast.
But Arthur noticed that way too many people were now looking askance at Isabel, as if she had sprung straight out of Hades. “Do not,” he warned again, “cast blame against Gwen or Isabel. You do so at your own peril. For the people who know us best will be at our sides. Now please enjoy the rest of the evening,” Arthur said. “And remember to tell the ones you love just how much. Often.”
He jumped down and headed straight to his woman. He probably should have been prepared for the thump to his chest he received upon his arrival. He was not.
“Ow!”
“What were you thinking, Arthur?
“Just, perhaps, some form of happiness that I was honest about my feelings for you?
“Did it even occur to you what might happen to Gwen?”
“Did you not note that ’twas Gwen who made the decision to announce her feelings first?”
“Okay, that’s true. What in hell was that all about?”
“I was not standing over here talking to her. You were. How about you tell me?”
“She wanted to be truthful to the people of Camelot, is my guess,” Mary said. “Do not blame Isabel, as I saw her attempt to stop the queen. Or you answer to me. Your Highness,” she added with a slight curtsy. “Shall I stay, Isabel?” she asked.
“I think I can handle him,” Isabel said with a grin. “But thank you, Mary.”
Mary glanced back and forth between them. “Okay, I shall be right over there with that very large, very strong, very loyal man, in case you have need, Isabel.” She stomped away.
“Why do I feel as if I am suddenly the bad guy, here?” Arthur said.
Isabel shook her head, laughing. “Not the bad guy, Arthur. But why, for crying out loud? You couldn’t just say, ‘I support Gwen, end of story.’”
“Because once she decided to say as she did, my only choice was to announce that I too am in love with another, so the people did not consider her the only one who had broken vows.”
“So it was more for her protection?”
“Not more, but as much. It feels as if . . . I do not know . . . the truth will set you free?”
“Oh, boy, hate to say it, but I have a feeling that in the long run you aren’t going to get the credit for that one. Damn shame.”
“My pardon?”
“Never mind. At any rate, do you feel set free? Because personally I feel about a hundred sets of eyes staring daggers at me.”
“Should any try to harm you, they must go through me first. I love you, Isabel. And, yes, I do feel set free. Hiding my feelings for you does not sit well. I would like to be able to let the world know my true feelings for my true love.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure the Camelot world is now well aware.”
He shrugged. “The ruse is over. We have no need to hide behind closed doors and in public live a lie. That does not sit well with you?”
“I could have lived with it for a while longer.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid for you, you big oaf. This undermines your status as king.”
“I would be happy to turn the crown over to Mordred this moment if it means being free to live the rest of my days with you.”
“Oh, Arthur, don’t you see? That’s exactly the type of thing I don’t want to be responsible for. Camelot needs you. And you, whether you believe or realize it, need Camelot.”
“Not as I need you, Isabel. Camelot is but land. You, you are my heart. You are . . . my everything.”
She laughed, and the musical sound of it, the beauty of her, from the inside all the way to the outer beauty, had his heart pounding.
“You know, witty man,” she said, “if this king thing doesn’t pan out, you have a great future as a songwriter.”
He grinned. “I have absolutely not one clue what that means, but I will just assume it is a good thing, and we can move on from there.”
“Deal.”
“Would you care to move upstairs?”
“While fifty gazillion people are watching every twitch we make? I think not.”
“Later?”
“Oh, definitely. Without question.” She moved closer and whispered in his ear, “In fact, your Highness, should you not appear, there will be dire consequences.”
“Oh, I am frightened. I will—”
“Arthur! Arthur! Please . . . help.”
He turned to see Gwen, distraught as he had ne’er seen her afore.
“What’s wrong, Gwen?” Isabel asked.
“They . . . they have Lance. And they are threatening—”
“Where?”
“In the bailey.”
Arthur ran. “James! Mordred!” he yelled. “I have need of you.” He glanced back. “And, Isabel, you stay put,” he demanded as he realized she was running right behind him and beside Gwen.
“Just try to stop me, big boy.”
Good gods, he was in for the ride of a lifetime with that woman. He could not wait to enjoy the journey.
James and Mordred both caught up to him as they all left the castle and entered the bailey.
Two men were holding on to Lance as he struggled to break free.
“Leave off, Michael, David. Now! Release him.”
“My lord, he has betrayed you!” Michael said. “He must be punished. It is king’s law.”
“Are you deaf?” Isabel yelled. “The king has told you to release him.”
Arthur nearly groaned. “Isabel . . .”
“Well, you did! I heard it! Did you not hear it, Mordred?”
“I did, Countess.”
“James?”
“I, too, heard it. Michael, David, should you defy your king’s order, you are in much more trouble than you care to imagine.”
“Betraying our king is treason,” Michael shouted.
“As is defying his direct order,” James said. “Do you not release this man, you are guilty of such.”
That stopped them. They took their hands from Lance’s arms.
“Thank you,” Arthur said. “And listen to me. Listen well, my friends. I do truly appreciate your loyalty, but in this case it is misplaced. Sir Lancelot is a true and loyal soldier, committed to Camelot. Just yesterday he was willing to battle to save our land, and both of you, should you have needed his aid, he would have . . . would have . . .”
“He would have had your backs,” Isabel said.
Arthur did groan this time. “Thank you, Countess. Allow me to take it from here?”
“All yours.”
He heard Gwen’s soft sobbing and Isabel saying, “It’s okay now, Gwen. All is well. Arthur is on the case.”
He nearly laughed, because he knew not what that meant, either, and by the puzzled looks both James and his son shot him, he was not alone in this. Thank goodness ’twas not just him.
“Lancelot has not betrayed me or Camelot. He merely followed his heart. With my complete acceptance. You will not, you will not attempt to punish him for something that I do not find a grievance against me or Camelot. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, m’lord,” Michael mumbled.
“Yes, King Arthur,” David said. “We but wanted to show our loyalty to our king.”
“I very much appreciate that. But ’tis not necessary. Yet please understand that I care very much for the good health and well-being o
f Sir Lancelot, and will take very harsh measures to any who would harm him. Is that clear to one and all who are standing about listening?”
Which, as it happened, ’twas many.
“Yea,” those many answered.
“The laws of Camelot are about to take a turn. I will not announce at this moment what they entail, but I assure you that neither Lance, nor Gwen, nor Isabel, nor I, for that matter, are guilty of any crime against the crown. We merely”—he shook his head, not quite certain what the correct words were, and would not you know it, Isabel chose this time to remain silent—“chose to take differing paths to happiness.
“I believe that every human deserves to choose which path, do you not think?”
“Hell, yes,” Isabel said.
“And now she speaks up,” he said to Mordred.
Mordred grinned. “You must admit, Father, she chooses her moments rather well.”
He pulled his son to him and gave him a hug. But not for Isabel choosing moments, the rift between them might still be a relentless divide. “I fear I am never going to tame that woman,” he said.
“I have high hopes you do not,” Mordred said. “Life would be so dull around here.”
He released Mordred, his heart full. For the newfound relationship with his son and the promise of many tomorrows with Isabel.
He raised his hands. “Then we are all now of the same mind? No harm shall befall Lance.”
“Yea, my king,” many said.
“Good. The drama is over. Please return to your regularly scheduled feasting. I hear there is much pickled eel to be had at the tables.”
He turned, grinning, knowing he was going to pay mightily for that last jest. He could not wait.
Isabel was still holding on to Gwen, who was still crying in her arms.
“Gwen, see to Lance,” he said. “I have this notion he could use your care at this moment.”
At the tap on his shoulder, he turned back. Lance looked at him, his eyes still troubled. “I am so sorry, King Arthur.”
“’Twas not your fault, Lance. None of this was. I am only sorry that you had to suffer the humiliation of this event. Now please, you and Gwen get out of here. Go to the cottage. Go wherever you choose. Just go and celebrate that Gwen loves you so much that she risked death to proclaim her feelings for you.”