[King Arthur and Her Knights 01.0 - 03.0] Enthroned, Enchanted, Embittered

by KM Shea

  Britt barely had time to grab the sword before it disappeared into the lake. “Holy—you jerk!” Britt declared after successfully hefting Excalibur into the boat.

  She took the time to admire it for a few moments, turning it over and weighing it in her hand. Aesthetically speaking, the sword was beautiful. It wasn’t as ornamental as the sword Britt had pulled from the stone, but both Excalibur and its scabbard thrummed with a power that the sword from the stone did not have. Moreover, Excalibur was perfectly forged. It was smaller than Sir Kay’s sword—an excellent match for Britt’s height and strength—but it was beautifully balanced and wielded almost as if it were custom made for Britt.

  Britt glanced over the side of the boat and shivered before rowing back to shore.

  “You retrieved it?” Sir Kay asked as his father attempted to console Merlin.

  Britt climbed ashore before she picked the sword off the bottom of the boat. “Yes,” she said, hefting the weapon over her head.

  “What?” the Lady of the Lake screeched from some distance down the shoreline. She gaped in utter disbelief, her eyes wide, her shoulders slack. Britt didn’t think she was angered so much as she was shocked. “No man can pull Excalibur from the lake, and women are not meant to lead and wield weapons!”

  “You know what I say to that? Crap. Utter crap,” Britt said before she turned to face her escort. “Shall we go?”

  “Yes, let’s,” Merlin said, having recovered to a certain extent, as he tottered over to his horse.

  Britt hefted herself onto her mare’s back after securing Excalibur. “Thank you, lady,” Britt said before she rode after Merlin—who was leaving in great haste. Sir Kay and Sir Ector murmured their respects before following Britt.

  “I am not certain it was wise to insult a faerie neighbor to her face,” Sir Kay said.

  “It was a great sight though. Well done, Arthur!” Sir Ector hooted.

  “You called her a petty wench! Britt, whhhhhy?” Merlin moaned.

  “Does it matter? I have Excalibur, and that’s what we came here for, right?”

  “Excalibur is more than I ever dreamed for you,” Merlin admitted, slowing his horse until he rode next to Britt so he could observe the sword. “Those of us who deal in magic suspected no one would ever be able to remove it from the lake. I underestimated you, Britt.”

  “Thank you,” Britt said with a smile.

  “However, insulting the Lady of the Lake and demanding such a sword! Have you not listened to anything I have told you these past few days? Clearly you are in need of a reminder.”

  “Dang it.”

  5

  Arriving at Camelot

  “Wait. I thought we were going back to London?” Britt said, late in the afternoon as they plodded along a dirt road, still riding in a forest.

  “No. We must prepare for war, and to do that, your home base must be fortified. Sir Ulfius and the others set out shortly after we left. I suspect they arrived late this morning. As I mentioned, the castle is only a short ride from Arroy,” Merlin said.

  “So, it’s an actual castle, with walls, and a tower, and everything?” Britt asked.

  “Yes.”

  Britt twisted in her saddle to look at Sir Ector and Sir Kay. “Have you two seen it?”

  Sir Kay shook his head, and Sir Ector said, “I have not, but I do not imagine Merlin would build you anything less than a fortress.”

  “What is it called?” Sir Kay asked.

  Merlin shrugged. “Capital? Carduel?”

  “What?” Britt said. “No, not either of those. Everyone knows Arthur’s castle is called—”

  “Ah, you can see it from here,” Merlin said, gesturing to a break in the trees.

  “…Camelot,” Britt said with great longing as she stopped her horse and stared at her new home.

  Britt had seen photographs of castles before; she was even supposed to tour several with her friends during her trip to England. In the photos, the castles were usually smaller than expected, crumbling or partially covered with moss, and worn and weathered.

  Camelot was bright and shining. It was placed next to a river—part of the river was diverted to go directly into the castle, and was settled in a huge stretch of meadow. It was surrounded on three sides by forest, but the fourth side opened up into a stretch of green plains—perfect for grazing livestock and farming.

  The walls were high, and the central structure—the castle keep—was not at all tower like, but squareish in shape, several stories tall, and, based on what peeked over the castle walls, decorated with impressive architecture.

  “It’s beautiful,” Britt said, somewhat breathless.

  “I am pleased to see that something has managed to impress you,” Merlin said, his voice laced with sarcasm even though he wore a pleased smile.

  “What did you call it?” Sir Kay asked.

  “Camelot.”

  “Cam-elot. Camelot. It will do,” Merlin said, rolling the new name across his tongue as if tasting it.

  As Britt and her riding party approached Camelot, Britt could not shrug off a cloud of acceptance. The great castle before her and Excalibur strapped to her side seemed to settle around Britt like a familiar jacket or a favorite blanket.

  It’s not a mistake, Excalibur seemed to say.

  It’s not just a legend, Camelot quietly echoed.

  Instead of calming Britt, the familiarity of it all made her increasingly more uneasy. “This isn’t my life. This isn’t me,” Britt muttered as they rode through the great gates.

  “Did you say something, Arthur?” Sir Ector asked.

  “No,” Britt said, raising her eyes to take in the bustling innards of Camelot. Soldiers and guards were posted on the walls, and commoners and servants clamored in the streets for a glimpse of their new king. “Merlin, exactly how are we paying for all of this?”

  “With the treasury, of course. Before he died, Uther Pendragon named his son the next king, leaving all his property and assets as his inheritance. No one knew of the son, so I created the sword in the stone to prove Arthur’s pedigree. Since you pulled it and became King of Britain, all that Uther owned is now yours,” Merlin said, squinting at the sunlight. “Now, Arthur, if you would please?” he said, indicating to the crowds.

  Britt exhaled and slumped in her saddle for a moment before she turned and faced the people with a white smile, set posture, and unshakeable confidence.

  The onlookers went wild. Children tossed flowers at Britt and her horse, women waved ribbons in the air, and men clapped and stamped their feet.

  “Hail, King Arthur!”

  “Long live King Arthur!”

  “Excellent work,” Merlin said, barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

  The shouts followed them to the castle keep, where the guards moved to block the stampede.

  “Leave your horse; a stable lad will take care of it,” Merlin said as they dismounted—he still had to shout to be heard over the cheering crowds that were held in check by the guards. “This way, lad.”

  “Sir Kay, aren’t you coming with us?” Britt yelled when the tall knight headed in a separate direction.

  Sir Kay shook his head. “I will meet up with you shortly, My Lord. I must check on some tasks first.”

  “Arthur, come along,” Merlin said, pulling Britt by the neck of her tunic.

  When they entered the keep, the shouts of celebration were muffled, and Britt was finally able to hear herself think.

  “Are you paying off the citizens or something?” she asked.

  “Paying off?” Merlin blinked. “You mean did I pay them to celebrate your arrival? No. However, everyone here at Camelot has waited for you for years. You are a rather suspicious human being. Does loyalty mean nothing to the people of the future?”

  “No,” Britt slowly said.

  “Enough chatter. I am starving. Where can a man get something to sup on?” Sir Ector said.

  “We will eat soon enough. We had best learn if Sir Ulfius an
d the rest arrived safely. That pet knight of yours, Sir Bedivere, was supposed to come with them,” Merlin said.

  Britt’s head spun as Merlin led her up and down stone hallways before they arrived at what appeared to be some sort of study.

  “This is your room, isn’t it?” Britt asked, her eyes tracing the books and scrolls that lined the walls.

  “It is. It is my study. I have quarters that are not far from yours, as well.” Merlin stopped a servant in the hallway. “You there, lass. Go find Sir Ulfius, Sir Bodwain and the like. Tell them King Arthur and Merlin wish to speak to them,” Merlin said.

  “And send for some provisions!” Sir Ector boomed before Merlin shut the door.

  Britt frowned when she found what appeared to be some sort of globe model of the Earth. “Do you think the earth is round?”

  Merlin flattened his eyebrows. “Of course. Every scholar worth his salt knows that.”

  “Oh.” Britt paged through Merlin’s drawings of plant life as Merlin and Sir Ector rearranged benches and chairs for an optimum sitting pattern.

  Within minutes, someone knocked on the wooden door.

  “I see you made the journey safely. Come in,” Merlin said when he opened the door.

  “Our ride was uneventful, but we’ve received some bad news from our sources in London,” Sir Ulfius said, the first to enter the study. He paused and bowed in Britt’s direction. “My Lord.”

  Sir Bodwain and Sir Bedivere were right behind him. “King Lot has gathered another five or six kings to his side,” Sir Bodwain said, stroking his beard. “My Lord,” he added with a bow.

  “Which kings?” Merlin asked, plopping down in a chair.

  “My Lord King Arthur,” Sir Bedivere said, kneeling in front of Britt before he turned and addressed Merlin. Even though he was not one of Merlin’s brood, he obviously knew who the real power was. “We do not know. We think them to be petty princes or dukes that are puffing themselves up. Individually, they will not add much to Lot’s rebellion, but the clutch of them together might be a nasty blow to us.”

  “King Leodegrance stands with us, and many dukes and barons will send us provisions, but few can or will spare us any men,” Sir Bodwain said. “Many knights pledged themselves to King Arthur, but I’ve heard reports that Lot has 50,000 men on horseback, and another 10,000 on foot. We cannot even begin to rally that number.”

  “So you believe we need more allies,” Britt said.

  Merlin and the knights turned and stared at her. Sir Ulfius and Sir Bodwain looked shocked. Sir Bedivere nodded—agreeable and not surprised. Merlin looked oddly contemplative.

  “Exactly. Well said, Arthur,” Sir Ector said.

  Merlin rubbed his chin. “King Ban of Benwick and King Bors of Gaul might serve you well as allies. They both rule across the sea—too far away to be a worry to your kingdom, and both have grudges against King Claudas. We could offer to help them in return.”

  “Grudges? Of what sort?” Sir Ulfius frowned.

  “I believe Claudas ran Ban out of his kingdom, and there were whispers of trouble with Bors’ sons and Claudas’ heir,” Merlin said.

  “Let us send word to them immediately, if that is the case. If we want to stand against King Lot, we will need their men as quickly as possible,” Sir Bodwain said.

  “Getting them across the ocean in a timely manner might be a puzzle,” Sir Bedivere said.

  “Leave that mess to me, but Sir Bodwain is right. Let us craft a letter for our potential allies,” Merlin said, standing up. He was walking towards a workbench when someone knocked on the door.

  “Is it our dinner?” Sir Ector hopefully asked.

  “Come in,” Merlin carelessly said, tossing scrolls aside as he found an inkwell and quill.

  The door opened, and Sir Kay nodded to his fellow knights. “Is the King available for a time?”

  “Of course. Take as long as you like, Arthur,” Merlin said.

  The knights stood and bowed when Britt pushed away from the bookshelf and joined Sir Kay at the door.

  “Is something wrong?” Britt asked when the door closed behind them.

  “No, I merely wished to present to you a…gift,” Sir Kay said after a suspiciously long pause.

  “Oh?”

  Sir Kay turned and called down the hallway. “Cavall, here.”

  A giant dog trotted around a corner, up the hall, and stopped at Sir Kay’s side. He was a charming apricot-fawn color with a black, wrinkled face and greatly resembled an English Mastiff.

  “He’s the size of a small pony,” Britt said, her eyes huge as she stared at the gargantuan dog. “I bet he could take down a bear!”

  “Not quite, but that is the idea,” Sir Kay said, clearing his throat. “His name is Cavall. He is yours.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Britt blinked.

  “Cavall is to be your dog. He is a year old and well trained. He will be a suitable canine for you.”

  Britt scratched her ear as she stared at the dog—who hadn’t so much as quivered since he sat at Sir Kay’s side. “Wow. He’s….He’s big.”

  “So you have said several times.”

  “Will he stay at the…oh what would you call it, the kennels?”

  “No. He is to remain with you. At all times,” Sir Kay said, oddly firm.

  “Oh. Ah, thank you. He seems well mannered, and he is very… handsome,” Britt said.

  “Are you afraid of dogs?” Sir Kay asked.

  “No, not at all. I just haven’t ever owned one, and I’ve never met any that are quite this big,” Britt said before offering her hand to the dog.

  Cavall sniffed the hand and thumped his tail several times as he lifted his soulful eyes to Britt’s face.

  “Good boy,” Britt said, crouching in front of him to pat his shoulder.

  “If you have any problems, please seek me out, or the kennel master. A boy from the kennels has been assigned to Cavall. He will see to his basic needs,” Sir Kay said.

  “Excellent. Thank you, Sir Kay,” Britt smiled.

  “It is my pleasure, my King. Would you like something to eat or drink? I could take you to a dining facility.”

  “That would be much appreciated, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. This way, I believe,” Sir Kay said, going back down the hallway.

  Britt started to follow him before she hesitated, looking back at the sitting mastiff. “Cavall, here,” she called.

  The obedient canine stood and padded to her side, keeping pace with her. Britt briefly placed a hand on his head, and was surprised when Sir Kay smiled as he watched the exchange.

  Catching Britt’s eye, Sir Kay cleared his throat and wiped the smile from his face before speaking. “This way, My Lord.”

  “I hope you are pleased with your rooms, My Lord,” Sir Ulfius said as he led Britt through the castle keep.

  “I’m sure I will love them. You said all of my things were moved there?” Britt asked, glancing behind her to make sure Cavall was still following. He was.

  “Yes. I placed Excalibur there myself this afternoon while you dined, and I brought that, that black thing you guarded so closely during our days in London.”

  “My backpack? Excellent. Thank you, Sir Ulfius,” Britt said when the older knight paused outside a door.

  “It is my pleasure and my duty as your chamberlain, Sire,” Sir Ulfius said, sparing Britt a smile she could barely see behind his impressive facial hair before he opened the door. “The Great Chamber: your room, My Lord.”

  The room was big—almost embarrassingly so considering Britt would be the only occupant. She was going to freeze in the winter. There was a fireplace with a chimney to siphon the smoke away. A wooden stool was placed in front of the chimney, and the walls were decorated with tapestries of battle scenes. The only other furniture was the bed—which had a canopy suspended from the ceiling that cascaded over it—and a wooden bed stand.

  Britt wasn’t completely surprised by the room. She had roughed it out in
the London inn long enough to know that bedrooms were not the personalized rooms she was used to. However, she was heartened by her backpack—which was carefully placed in the corner.

  “Thank you, Sir Ulfius. It’s wonderful,” Britt said when she realized the knight was waiting in silence for her judgment.

  The older knight nodded in satisfaction. “Do you need or require anything else, My Lord?”

  “No, this is great. Thank you for bringing me here,” Britt said as she—and Cavall—walked to her backpack.

  “It is my honor, My Lord,” Sir Ulfius said with a partial bow before he left, closing the door behind him.

  Britt hesitated. Excalibur and her saddle bags were stacked carefully beside her bed frame. She sat down momentarily on her bed—pleasantly surprised by the feather mattress. She peeled up the mattress to glance at the medieval version of a mattress spring, which was formed by ropes woven and intertwined together—before digging through her bags.

  After a minute, she found what she was looking for—her British travel guidebook—and got up to approach her backpack. She stopped when she reached it and nudged it with her foot. She started to crouch, intending to open it, before she shook her head and made a retreat to the bed.

  “I can’t look at it. Any of it. If I look at my stuff, I’ll only remember what I’ve lost,” Britt told Cavall as the dog lay down at the foot of her bed. Britt looked around her room again, cringing at the overwhelming masculinity of it, and sat down on her bed. “So, this is where I’ll be living. This is my room,” she said, the words tasted bitter in her mouth, and she closed her eyes against the stark reality.

  Britt wanted to go home.

  “The only story as famous, or perhaps even more famous, than Arthur is the romantic relationship between Guinevere and Sir Lancelot—Arthur’s best knight. It is said that Guinevere’s affair with Lancelot destroyed Camelot and King Arthur’s Court—” Britt stopped reading and threw the guidebook, making her guards jump when it smacked against the stone ground of the wall walk.