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

by KM Shea

  “In other words, you will have isolated him and broken his political power,” Sir Ulfius said.

  Sir Ector shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”

  “You are gambling with My Lord’s life to make a political move. If My Lord is injured, it will not bode well,” Sir Kay said, his words filled with unspoken promises.

  “You forget something important,” Merlin delicately said. “If we don’t catch this first plot, and Arthur plays invalid and misses the party, it doesn’t mean that Lot’s attempts to kill Arthur are over. It means the only one we know about has been canceled. Lot may very well make any number of attempts, which will be far harder to fend off as we will not know when and where they will take place.”

  Sir Ector and Sir Kay were quiet as they mulled over Merlin’s words.

  “We are postulating all of this based off the words of a foreign queen with witch powers. Britt, are you certain of this?” Sir Ulfius asked.

  “It’s Arthur,” Merlin hissed. Even in closed rooms, using Britt’s real name was forbidden.

  “No,” the older knight said. “I don’t want your play puppet answering. I want her honest opinion. Britt, what do you think?”

  Britt swallowed as the knights stared at her. “I think Morgause can be trusted,” she admitted. “And I think Merlin is right. Based on what Morgause has told me, Lot won’t give up trying to off me—regardless of whether I have his sons or not—unless we publically humiliate him and break his political hold on northern Britain.”

  Sir Ulfius nodded, satisfied.

  “Then we make plans for a guard,” Sir Kay said, switching gears.

  “We need to be careful not to plant too many, or we’ll scare off Lot’s men,” Sir Ulfius said.

  “Perhaps we could have extra guards dressed as servants. No one looks twice at servants, even servants carrying weapons.” Sir Ector suggested.

  Britt stretched when she stood. “I’m going out for a breath of fresh air,” she said.

  “Very well, but be safe. Merlin, do you have maps of the surrounding forest areas?” Sir Ector asked as he dragged his girth over to a bookshelf of maps and globes.

  “Take guards with you, My Lord,” Sir Kay ordered as he opened his logbook.

  “Good evening, My Lord,” Sir Ulfius said, sparing her a smile before he turned his attention to Kay. “Do we have any spies of our own that we could place in the trees?”

  “None trained for combat, no,” Sir Kay said as Britt slipped out the door. She started up the hallway, heading for her room.

  “Going to get that blasted dog of yours?” Merlin asked.

  Britt jumped; she hadn’t heard the enchanter sneak out after her. “Yes, I left him in my room when I went to have Ywain and Griflet heft me into this armor. I doubt he’s happy with being left behind.”

  “Do you need help getting out of that?”

  “The armor? It would be appreciated,” Britt said, stopping a few paces down the hallway to open the door to her room.

  Cavall sat just beyond the door, his massive tail thumping on the ground as he gave Britt a look of mild chastisement.

  “I’m sorry, boy, I had to leave you,” Britt said, holding her arms out. The mastiff got up and padded to her, briefly snuffling her before taking up his customary post at her side.

  “You won’t need to wear full armor all the time, you know,” Merlin said, shutting the door before he got to work unbuckling buckles and sliding pieces of armor off.

  Britt slipped her hands from her gauntlets. “Really? You’ve been nagging me about it for weeks. I didn’t know if you would let me take it off to sleep.”

  “Well, you did need a set of full armor—although I was thinking white or gold might be a better color for you,” Merlin admitted. “But what I specifically wanted you to wear was a cuirass reinforced with a plackart, faulds, and maybe a gorget.”

  “I have no idea what any of those things are,” Britt said as Merlin finished taking armor off her right arm.

  “A cuirass is the chestplate. It covers your chest. The plackart reinforces it around your belly—and yours would most certainly cover your back as well. Faulds are bands—or flaps really—that rest on the front of your thighs. They wouldn’t be necessary, but they—like a gorget which covers your throat—would help disguise your lack of male muscle development. I suppose you could always wear a hauberk—you’ll love it, as it is all chainmail,” Merlin sourly said as he removed the shoulder pieces of the armor.

  “They would be decorated in your emblem, your symbol, of course. But we still have yet to decide what your symbol should be,” Merlin continued.

  Britt rubbed her wrists before stepping out of the chest piece Merlin pulled off her. “I’m sorry; I should have told you about the armor. But I wanted to confront Morgause on my own.”

  “I understand your personality well enough to know why you did it,” Merlin dryly said as he heaped the armor in the corner. “And while I wish you had told me, I must admit you did well.”

  Britt’s eyebrows rose. “Are you giving me a sincere compliment?”

  “I’ve done it before from time to time.”

  “Yes, but it still is rare.”

  “If you want compliments more often, you should try behaving yourself,” Merlin said, dusting off his robe.

  Britt laughed and bent over to pet Cavall. When she looked up, Merlin was giving her the oddest look.

  “What?” Britt asked, standing up.

  Merlin was quiet for a moment before he approached Britt and placed both of his hands on her shoulders. “Be careful with this hunting party. Don’t take any chances. As badly as I would love to beard Lot and silence him forever, you are more important. Do you understand?”

  Britt uncomfortably shifted. Merlin’s hands on her shoulders felt hot. “Yes.”

  A smile melted the hardness of Merlin’s intensity. “That’s a good lass. Enjoy your walk. Mind Kay, and take your guards with you,” Merlin said, briefly brushing her cheek with his hand before he bustled out of Britt’s bedroom, making a beeline to the study where Sir Ector, Sir Ulfius, and Sir Kay were closeted.

  Britt waited until Merlin’s footsteps disappeared from the hallway before she shook her head and briskly slapped her cheeks. “I am too old to be acting like a lovesick teenager. He shows zero interest in me anyway. It’s just been too long since I’ve been on a date. And I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to a dog,” Britt grumbled, avoiding looking at her metal plate mirror so she wouldn’t have to see her blush.

  Cavall’s tail happily wagged as Britt scowled at the ground. Her self-disgust was interrupted by a tapping noise on her door.

  “My Lord?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Bedivere, My Lord. May I come in?”

  Britt did a quick inspection of her room—nothing particularly feminine or revealing was out on display—before she answered. “Enter.”

  The door opened, and Sir Bedivere slipped inside, throwing himself into a kneeling position before even looking at Britt.

  “Bedivere?”

  “My Lord, I beg of you to forgive me.”

  “For what?”

  “I have been capricious and disloyal to you. I took a vow as your marshal to serve and protect you, and I have failed pitifully.”

  “Bedivere—”

  “I followed the Orkney queen like a mindless animal, acted inexcusably, and cast your favor aside.”

  “Bedivere—”

  “I do not deserve your mercy or forgiveness, and I am prepared for whatever punishment you give me.”

  “Bedivere,” Britt said. She crouched in front of the kneeling knight, placed her hands on his shoulders, and shook him.

  The startled knight met her gaze, and Britt sadly smiled. “I am sorry I took so long to rescue you,” she said.

  Sir Bedivere blinked several times before he closed his eyes. “You are too good for us, My King. Certainly we do not deserve you.”

  Britt chuckled. “Th
at’s hardly true. Mostly I think it is I who does not deserve you,” she said before standing, tugging on Sir Bedivere’s arm. “I am glad you are back, Bedivere.”

  “As am I, My Lord,” he said as he stood.

  “Was it bad?”

  “Yes,” Bedivere frowned, his face growing stormy. “Most of the time, I was muddled and did not know what I was saying. But the few times I would remember, and wouldn’t be able to control my own mouth? Those were the worst,” he glumly said.

  “It’s over now. You are once again my faithful marshal,” Britt smiled.

  “And you are always my beloved sovereign, My Lord,” Sir Bedivere said, placing a fist over his heart before tilting forward in a bow.

  Britt could not help the rush of warmth and affection she felt at Sir Bedivere’s heartfelt words. She reached out and embraced him, doing her best to heartily smack him on the back to make the gesture a “man hug.” It wasn’t until Sir Bedivere embraced her back that Britt remembered her situation (supposedly a male) and her state of clothing (armor-less) and started calling herself seven different kinds of an idiot in her head.

  Thankfully, she was still wearing her fitted under-doublet—which was making her sweaty—but even so, Britt had a feeling Merlin would scalp her if he knew she was going around, hugging knights.

  Britt ended the “man hug” as swiftly as possible, smiling at Sir Bedivere before slapping him on the back again to reaffirm her manliness. “I was about to step outside for a breath of fresh air with Cavall. Care to join me?”

  “It would be my honor, My Lord.”

  The Orkney queen left the following day in a swift, unceremonious exit at dawn.

  While Britt had forgiven the queen for her enchantment, few—if any—of Britt’s knights had. As such, only Britt, her guards, Cavall, Merlin, Sir Kay—who probably came only to make sure that Morgause really left—and Morgause’s sons went to see her off.

  “I apologize, My Lady, that your departure is less…glorious than one would usually throw for a departing queen,” Britt said.

  Morgause laughed. “Don’t be cross with your men, Arthur. I took the power of their will from them. They are bound to hold a grudge. Stay safe and take care,” she bid before reaching out to hug Britt, making Merlin squawk. “Make us women proud. I am sending my youngest sister to you, Morgan. She feels as Elaine and I do pertaining to women on thrones, and she will do everything in her power to help you.”

  “Thank you,” Britt reluctantly said before she realized that for the first time she was in close quarters with Morgause, and her nose wasn’t burning. “Your perfume was part of the enchantment, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” Morgause admitted. “And I am fairly sick of its wretchedly powerful scent. It is a fae charm. Any man who smells it is supposed to fall hopelessly in love with the wearer. I had to wear at least twice the usual amount to get a concoction strong enough.”

  Merlin snorted. “Childish tricks, something one would expect of you.”

  Morgause eyed Merlin with the friendliness of a viper. “So says a petty, ancient magician who couldn’t break the childish trick.”

  “I could have if I wanted to. Arthur, I told you it was more meaningful that you broke the enchantment yourself,” Merlin said, almost whining.

  Britt purposely turned away from Morgause as the queen went to say goodbye to her sons. “I think Morgause might be right. I’ve seen you perform some magic, which I’ll give you is pretty cool. But all of this big stuff you claim you’re capable of? I haven’t seen the slightest proof.”

  “You are the most ungrateful brat to ever be crowned king,” Merlin said as Britt crouched in front of Cavall to pet him.

  Sir Kay stirred. “Historically speaking, I don’t believe that is an accurate statement.”

  Merlin eyed Sir Kay. “Of course you would say that.”

  “Can you do anything tomorrow, during the hunting party?” Britt asked, her voice quiet, so quiet only Merlin and Sir Kay could hear her.

  “Aye,” Merlin said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “I’ll be following you, but in secret and out of sight. A hunt isn’t a place for an enchanter, but I will go for your safety.”

  “Why wouldn’t you normally come with us?” Britt asked, making the gesture for Cavall to give her his paw. It was the most useless trick ever, but it greatly cheered Britt to be able to teach her faithful dog something.

  Merlin shook his head. “Most love the thrill of the chase but I, I can’t stomach the kill. Not of stags anyway. I suppose boar hunting in the winter months might be different. But it was Blaise, my mentor, who first advised me to skip hunting parties. Hunting to live is one thing. Even war is sometimes a necessity. But hunting for socialization is far different.”

  Britt uneasily stood. “Great, I wasn’t looking forward to it already.”

  “Do not worry, My Lord,” Sir Kay assured Britt. “Merlin is an oddity.”

  “What did you just call me?” Merlin asked.

  “My Lord,” Morgause interrupted with her husky voice. “I thank you for your hospitality. You have been a generous host, and I hope you and your house are blessed for it,” Morgause said as she stood with her mare. Her Orkney escort was already mounted and waiting.

  Britt bowed slightly. “You have honored us with your visit.”

  “Don’t come again,” Merlin said, waving farewell.

  “Merlin,” Britt hissed.

  Morgause laughed as she mounted her horse with some help from a footman. “I see through your protests, Merlin. You are quite amorous of me, I know it.”

  Merlin looked like he swallowed a frog. “Lady,” he said, “wise, old lady. Please depart lest I be forced to help you depart.”

  Morgause turned her delicate mare and laughed over her shoulder. “Very well, I admit saying you are amorous of me is a bit much, but you have become softer towards my gender in your old age, Merlin. I know it! It can be seen in all aspects of your life. Farewell, you false magician, farewell my sons, farewell Arthur—true King of Britain.”

  Merlin growled, but the queen was out of hearing distance, disappearing through the gate that led out of the keep area and into the public/commoner area of Camelot.

  “I like her,” Britt decided.

  “Great. Exchange letters with her, but never invite her back,” Merlin said.

  “That would be very rude, Merlin,” Sir Kay said, startling both Britt and Merlin. “We are hosting her sons. How could we separate their mother from them?”

  Merlin eyed Sir Kay again. “I think I liked you more when you had less of a cause and talked rarely.”

  Sir Kay inclined his head. “In that case, I must thank you for delivering my foster-brother to me,” he said as Morgause’s sons drew closer to Britt and her companions.

  Britt crouched down. “Gaheris, Gareth,” she called, extending her arms. The young boys ran to her, pushing their wet cheeks against her shoulders.

  Sir Kay and Merlin shifted uncomfortably as Britt hugged the crying boys. After a few moments, they backed off, noses sniffling. Britt stood and moved away from Cavall, who was promptly tackled by the youngest Orkney princes.

  “I didn’t think the old hag was at all affectionate with them,” Merlin said as he watched Gawain sling an arm across Agravain’s shoulders. “It appears I was wrong.”

  “It’s a hard thing, saying goodbye to a parent,” Britt said, unseeingly staring out across the keep yard. She startled when Merlin placed a warm hand on the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  7

  A Hunting Party

  “We found a second trail going northwest. An assistant huntsman picked it up here.”

  Britt chewed her bread as she appeared to listen to the master huntsman. Britt and the knights and nobles who were riding in the hunt had gathered for breakfast outside for the specific purpose of hearing the master huntsman discuss the various trails his assistants had found and deciding which quarry they
should pursue. Merlin had informed her this meeting was called an assembly.

  Merlin had also told her that hunting parties used highly technical terminology and she was to stay silent at all times and let her closest knights—Sir Kay, Sir Ector, Sir Ulfius, and Sir Bedivere—answer for her.

  “It is better for people to think you to be thoughtful than for you to open your mouth and prove yourself a fool,” Merlin told her when hauling her from her rooms early that morning to hear Mass.

  Britt fixed an appropriately thoughtful expression on her face, nodding slowly whenever someone looked at her.

  Mostly, Britt was internally awed at her men’s ability to drink soup for breakfast. The practice was apparently common, but the only thing Britt could stomach was the hearty bread she was supposed to dip in the soup.

  Britt’s gaze flickered to the carefully selected party of six soldiers that were to guard her. “Servants” scurried through the keep yard, carrying things from the keep to the horses that were tacked and waiting. No one noticed they carried swords and extra daggers, or that they oddly carried themselves like soldiers in spite of their station.

  The kennel boys were organizing their dogs: chase-hounds, a few greyhounds, and some mastiffs. Cavall sat with a kennel boy, although his attention was mostly on Britt. Britt smiled and waved at her dog—Kay had been oddly insistent that one of the kennel boys take Cavall with the second group of chase-hounds and the pack of mastiffs that would be planted halfway through the trail to provide fresh dogs for the hunt. Britt doubted that Cavall would be able to keep up, but Kay said there would be plenty of huntsmen along to take charge of him if he tired.