King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3

by K. M. Shea

  “The younger Orkney princes will remain behind,” Sir Kay said.

  “Naturally. This isn’t an outing, it’s a scouting party,” Merlin said.

  “You will be the one to tell them they are remaining behind,” Sir Kay said.

  Merlin grimaced. “Fine,” he said.

  “When we split into two groups Gawain and Ywain should travel with My Lord,” Sir Bodwain said. “My Lord will be able to keep them safe.”

  Britt snorted. “I fear you over estimate my abilities, Sir Bodwain.”

  Sir Bodwain shook his head. “You are the best swordsman in all of Camelot, and your jousting has much improved since last year. You do not give yourself enough credit, My Lord.”

  Next to Sir Bodwain, Sir Bedivere nodded in agreement.

  Britt gave the pair a pained smile before looking to Merlin in a plea for help.

  The wizard avoided Britt’s gaze.

  “If you say so,” Britt finally said.

  When Britt first came to England Sir Bodwain, one of Merlin’s star Minions, tolerated Britt. He had no belief in her combat skills or her intelligence. His opinion of her changed greatly during the war with Lot. Now, however, Britt couldn’t help but wish he retained some of his disbelief.

  Sir Bedivere’s reaction was not a surprise as he always had a saint-like belief in Britt. He was the only knight in an administrative position who did not know the truth of Britt’s gender and origins. His estimation of Britt was already undeservedly high, but when Britt broke off an enchantment Queen Morgause—her one time enemy and now her pigeon correspondence pen pal—had cast over all her men, Bedivere’s esteem of Britt reached uncomfortably new heights.

  “Kay and I will ride with Arthur’s party,” Sir Ector said, slapping his pot belly.

  “No,” Britt said. “You will remain behind, Sir Ector.”

  “What, what?” Sir Ector said, his round face wrinkling with the force of his frown.

  “Arthur is right,” Merlin said. “Someone needs to stay with Sir Ulfius and see to the administration of Camelot. As Kay has insisted on coming along, you are the natural candidate, Ector.”

  “I say, that’s not fair,” Sir Ector grumbled. “Why does Kay get to go?”

  “Because he asked first and held a sword to my throat as he did so,” Merlin said.

  Sir Kay smoothed his mustache to cover his pleased smile.

  “With the addition of Gawain and Ywain we still should send one more Knight with My Lord,” Sir Bodwain said.

  “Do you have any suggestions?” Merlin asked. “And no, Bedivere, we cannot bring Griflet. We will have enough untrained knights to watch the way it is.”

  Sir Ector scratched his dry scalp. “Shall you take another one of your men, Merlin?”

  Merlin shook his head. “With Bodwain, Bedivere, and Kay out of the castle you will need all the help you can get. My… associates will remain behind to aid you and Ulfius.”

  “Who else is gifted in arms and combat?” Merlin asked.

  “We don’t know. We haven’t had any jousts or tournaments since My Lord came to Camelot. We only know My Lord is the most skilled swordsman because no one has beaten him in practice fights,” Kay said.

  “Perhaps you should take a hunter with you? Not a knight but a forestman skilled in tracking and such. It may be useful,” Sir Bedivere said.

  “Perhaps,” Sir Bodwain agreed.

  Britt pressed her lips together. “There is someone I wish to bring.”

  “Who?” Merlin asked.

  Britt briefly closed her eyes, unable to believe what she was about to say. “Lancelot du Lac.”

  “He is a fair choice. He is certainly gifted in arms,” Sir Bodwain said.

  “I doubt his cousins would insist on going. They are enjoying their stay here,” Sir Bedivere added. “They have been with us for five days and show no signs of wishing to leave.”

  “He’s a good lad,” Sir Ector said.

  Sir Kay was the only knight who did not look pleased.

  Merlin leaned close to Britt and whispered, his breath tickling her neck. “What are you planning? You hate Lancelot.”

  “I do,” Britt acknowledged, gritting her teeth. “But as much as I hate him I would rather die than leave him in Camelot without supervision.”

  Merlin chuckled and said, “That’s my lass,” before pulling back with a handsome grin. “It’s settled then. Lancelot du Lac will join us, should he be willing. We will leave two days hence. Remember, when recruiting the knights we must be subtle. All of Camelot must believe we are going on an extended hunting trip.”

  “Aye,” Sir Bodwain said, barely able to conceal a smile as he rubbed his hands together.

  Sir Bedivere’s grin stretched across his face. “Ready your gear and your weapons in secret. We are setting out on a quest.”

  Britt was not quite so giddy. She was looking forward to the trip, but she wasn’t about to forget that Lancelot would be coming with. “It will be interesting,” she said.

  “It’s not fair. This is the first adventure since Morgause left last summer. I want to come,” Sir Ector objected. “Kay, we should switch. I will go with Arthur, you stay here.”

  “I respectfully decline, Father.”

  “You little urchin. It’s not fair I tell you!”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Britt started to regret her decision to bring Lancelot immediately after they set out. The young knight, of course, accepted the invitation— “I would never refuse to come to the aid of a king such as you, My Lord!”—and since they set out early in the morning he had done nothing but grate Britt’s nerves.

  To begin with he aligned his horse next to Britt for the day, never straying from her side.

  Hourly he felt the need to share a “rousing story” in which he always had the starring role, usually defeating a blackguard knight, a giant, or a serpent. He filled the day with mindless chatter and observations, remaking on everything from bird songs to tree foliage.

  Britt almost wished she had brought Cavall along so she could tell the massive dog to bite the knight.

  In the twilight hours, Kay signaled the party to halt for the night.

  “This journey is going to be more painful than I thought,” Britt said, loosening Llamrei’s girth.

  “Are you alright, My Lord?”

  Britt turned to find Ywain behind her, his head tilted as he studied her with concern.

  Britt blinked. “Yes.”

  “Your old wound isn’t hurting you, is it?” Ywain asked, wringing his hands.

  Britt laughed. “My thigh wound from the attackers healed last summer, Ywain. It didn’t even leave a scar.”

  “Yes, but I thought it still might twinge. You haven’t made a long ride like this in some time,” Ywain said.

  “I am fine, but I thank you for your concern,” Britt smiled.

  The young knight nodded. “If you need anything at all, My Lord, do not hesitate to call,” he said before seeing to his horse.

  Britt barely had enough time to slip the saddle off Llamrei before she was again interrupted.

  “Do you need any help, My Lord? Shall I fetch water for your horse?”

  Britt set the saddle down. “I appreciate the offer, Gawain, but I should be the one to care for my mount.”

  “Can I help you with your armor then? Do you need anything unbuckled?” he offered.

  “No,” Britt said, swapping Llamrei’s bridle for a rope halter. “I think I can manage, but thank you,” she said.

  Shimmying out of her armor was a tricky thing. Britt usually didn’t bother to wear a full set, but she wore several pieces (the cuirass, pauldrons, faulds, and gorget—which covered her chest, upper legs, and throat.) to bulk up her form. She was tall—for both her century and this one—but too slender for a boy. The armor gave the illusion of broader shoulders, thighs, and chest.

  Everyone assumed Britt’s new bulk was maturity. If they helped her remove the armor they would notice she was still as s
lender as ever.

  “I see,” Gawain said.

  Britt leaned against her horse and studied the Orkney prince. “Tell me, how goes your lance training? Agravain told me you were seeking to improve your skills.”

  Gawain placed his saddle packs on the ground and began unpacking. “I have improved some. I have gotten a better feel of where to aim. Previously I was content just to hit my opponent on the shield with as much force as I could muster, but some parts of the shield make a man yield easier than others. I fear Kay can still unhorse me though,” Gawain said.

  Britt winced in sympathy. “Kay could unseat a knight tied to his mount. The man is a nightmare to joust against.”

  Gawain sat down, his gear spread around him. “You practice with him?”

  “From time to time,” Britt vaguely said. In truth she had been practicing with Kay ever since she pulled the Sword from the Stone. The stony knight was pleased with her swordsmanship skills, but was determined to make her a passable knight and took it upon himself to train her in using a lance and spear. (He gave up on her archery skills after a brief stint of practice revealed she had no aptitude for the weapon.)

  “If you’re looking to beat Kay I suggest you ask Sir Bodwain for help,” Britt said.

  “Sir Bodwain? Why?”

  “Before he took up the position of my constable he was a particularly fierce knight. He was quite a terror to battle in his younger days, I’ve been told. I am certain he would be able to help you,” Britt said, brushing Llamrei’s broad back.

  “I never knew,” Gawain said.

  “I’m not surprised. I don’t think much information about any of my knights would travel as far as Orkney. But it was why Merlin advised I select him as my constable,” Britt said.

  “I shall ask him to train me, in that case,” Gawain said.

  Britt smiled. “I’m sure the request will please him. I need to water Llamrei. Did you already water your mount?”

  Gawain nodded and went back to organizing his gear. “There’s a river just a stone’s throw north from here.”

  “Excellent, thank you, nephew,” Britt said, leading her horse from the camp.

  “My pleasure, My Lord,” Gawain said.

  When Britt turned to acknowledge the comment with a wave she noticed Lancelot intently watching her.

  The handsome knight made no movement to cover up his stare. Instead he twisted his lips into a thoughtful frown.

  Britt was distracted from his odd behavior when Sir Kay joined her. “Good evening, Sir Kay. Watering your horse?”

  “Yes. You shouldn’t go alone,” Sir Kay said.

  Britt chuckled. “Of course. Thank you for accompanying me.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “You remain as enigmatic as ever, brother.”

  “Thank you.”

  The following morning Britt knelt at the riverbed and splashed water on her face in an effort to wake up. Since arriving in ancient Britain, Britt had been infected by a horrible case of insomnia, making mornings a bear to get through.

  Britt rocked back on her heels in a squatting position and considered the riverbed. There were a number of strange tracks on the moist banks. Britt studied them with a frown, looking up when she heard the pounding of horse hooves.

  A knight dressed in black armor and riding a sturdy horse crashed through the underbrush, popping out a few feet away from Britt.

  “You there, knight. Have you seen anything—like a strange beast—pass this way?” the knight demanded.

  “No,” Britt said, stifling a yawn.

  “Did you hear anything? Perhaps a noise that is not unlike the baying of hounds?”

  “No, we’re in the Forest of Arroy, faerie lands. There are no dogs in these parts,” Britt said, boosting herself into a standing position.

  “Oh, I say, Arthur, is that you?” the knight asked.

  Britt studied the black armor and ventured a guess. “Pellinore?”

  “At your service,” King Pellinore said, flipping up the visor of his helm.

  “What are you doing here? Your lands are far from this forest,” Britt said.

  “Does it displease you to find me near your kingdom?” Pellinore asked.

  “No, I told you before that you could pass through whenever you wish so long as you don’t disturb my people,” Britt said.

  “I thank you for your generosity. I am on a noble adventure, for I am chasing the Questing Beast.”

  “The Questing Beast? I remember you mentioning that when we argued about your Sable Knight title. What exactly is a Questing Beast?”

  King Pellinore removed his helm and patted his horse on the neck. “It is a great creature that has the head and neck of a serpent, the body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the feet of a stag. A great noise emits from its belly, sounding like thirty or so baying hounds.”

  “Really,” Britt said.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, it’s more that I suspect we have a miscommunication—like the fact that you wear black armor and call yourself the Sable Knight,” Britt said, placing her hands on her hips.

  Pellinore frowned. “You are an odd boy.”

  “Perhaps. How far have you chased this beast?”

  “From my castle. I have sought it my entire life, although it often eludes me. It roams Britain like the winds. I lost its trails some days ago.”

  “But?”

  Pellinore laughed as he dismounted. “You are odd but just as sharp as Merlin. I lost its trail, but I am not much enthused by the prospect of returning home. To say my wife was not pleased at my departure would be a vast understatement.”

  “I see.”

  “What has dragged you from the paradise of Camelot, King Arthur?” Pellinore asked as he led his horse to the river’s edge, letting it drink.

  “A small party of knights and I are on our way to Camelgrance.”

  “King Leodegrance’s lands? I received word that Duke Maleagant is approaching his borders. You aim to help him?”

  “Partially. We mean to spy on Maleagant’s forces so we know what army I must amass. King Leodegrance does not know of our party for we mean to keep things secret,” Britt hesitated. “Would you care to join us?” she asked on a whim.

  “Come with you to Camelgrance you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  King Pellinore thought for a moment before a smile broke the stoic look on his noble face. “I would be delighted! Does Merlin ride with you?”

  “Naturally,” Britt said. “Has your horse drunk its fill? I can lead the way to our camp.”

  Pellinore looked at his mount, who stopped lipping the water and shook like a dog. “She is well. Lead on, Arthur!”

  Britt led the way back to camp, calling when she grew close enough, “Merlin, Sir Kay? I have brought us another companion.”

  Kay looked up from the logbook he was writing in, and Merlin almost choked on the carrot he was chewing. “King Pellinore, welcome to our camp,” Merlin said.

  “It is my honor. King Arthur spoke of your mission to scout Maleagant’s forces,” King Pellinore said.

  “If it pleases you, Sir Bodwain, Sir Bedivere, Sir Kay, and I would like to hear your thoughts on our plan,” Merlin said.

  “It would be my pleasure,” King Pellinore said, joining Merlin at the nearly burned out campfire.

  Britt watched with a fond smile before she took a squashed, stale piece of bread from Gawain to serve as her breakfast.

  “I don’t understand, is King Pellinore not your enemy?”

  Britt glanced at Lancelot, who joined her at the camp edge. She gave him a false smile. “He was when he joined King Lot and fought against me, but I have since made peace with him. He is noble and quite likeable—something I cannot say of all who are present.”

  “You are kind to your enemies,” Lancelot said. “You include Prince Ywain and Prince Gawain in your company when they are t
he sons of men who sought to kill you.”

  Britt tried to act serene instead of snapping at Lancelot that for King Arthur it was really his best friend and wife he had to worry about than the sons of his onetime enemies. “Both Sir Ywain and Sir Gawain have proven their loyalty to me. I have no reason to question them for I know their allegiance is boundless.”

  Lancelot frowned. “My father was once forced to flee his kingdom by Claudas. I do not know if I could treat Claudas as you have treated King Pellinore.”

  Britt fixed a smile as sweet as poison on her lips. “Perhaps that is why the Sword in the Stone chose me,” she suggested. “If you’ll excuse me, I must prepare for our day.”

  “Of course, My Lord.”

  Britt thought nothing more of the conversation, and it would have surprised her to learn that Lancelot, on the other hand, dwelled upon it for a long time.

  A few more days of riding brought Britt and her knightly escort to King Leodegrance’s lands.

  “This is where we part,” Merlin said, swinging his spindly legged horse to address Sir Bodwain. “You take the main company and scout Maleagant’s camp. Sir Kay, Sir Gawain, Sir Ywain, Sir Lancelot, King Pellinore, King Arthur, and I will move ahead to Camelgrance. We will meet at the mill south of here this evening.”

  “As according to our plan,” Sir Bodwain nodded. His horse pranced a few steps until he stood directly in front of Britt. “Good luck, My Lord. God’s speed and safety,” he wished, bowing from the saddle.

  “I look forward to your return, My Lord,” Sir Bedivere added. Behind him the remaining knights of Camelot bowed their heads in reverence.

  “Thank you, I wish you luck with your part of the quest,” Britt said.

  As Sir Bodwain and Sir Bedivere rode off, leading the larger party of knights east, Merlin turned to the remaining group. “Now then, we set out on a ridiculous quest to break into our ally’s castle to look upon a nasty table. We must go incognito, which means we shall have to leave behind some of our equipment,” Merlin said, staring at Britt and Llamrei.

  Britt’s armor and clothes were liberally embroidered with the image of a red dragon. Even Llamrei had a red dragons with its wings thrown open embroidered on her saddle blanket and burned into her leather tack.“What?” Britt blinked.