by K. M. Shea
Britt grinned. “I thought for sure you would claim this is just one more step to unifying Britain.”
“That, too,” Merlin said. His brilliant blue eyes grew soft as he again inspected her. “Are you truly uninjured? You didn’t suffer at Maleagant’s hands?” He motioned to her scratched cheek.
Britt shook her head and whispered, “The worst he did was mistake me for Guinevere and stuff me in a bedroom.”
He chuckled. “That certainly is a mistake.” He extended his hand, as if to reach out and brush her cheek, then stepped back and turned to look at Maleagant. “I am grateful, Duke Maleagant, for the hospitality you have provided to our king. Moreover, I look forward to seeing you in Camelot. May I assume you and your father will be joining us there soon?”
Maleagant shifted in the saddle, but it was Britt who responded. “We’ve already made plans for them to come in a fortnight or so. Bagdemagus wanted to begin the process of rallying his troops and knights first.”
“Well planned!” Merlin clapped his hands in genuine satisfaction, then paused. He made a show of rubbing his chin and considering Maleagant. Britt could sense his mood change as he continued. “It is not my duty to judge the actions of nobility, but perhaps you are due for a warning before you come to Camelot. You see, there is an order in Camelot, the Order of the Queen’s Knights.” He sighed, as if apathetic towards the situation, and ignored Britt’s strangled grunt. “I’m afraid kidnapping Guinevere did little to endear you to them. I advise you to be on your best behavior, else you might find a sword—or a bit of magic—at your throat.” His words sounded solicitous enough, but his eyes were dark and tumultuous like a storm.
Britt frowned slightly, surprised he would risk enraging their new ally.
Maleagant shifted in his saddle, and his eyes nervously rolled from Merlin to the other knights and back again.
Unconcerned, the wizard smiled brightly. “Off with you, then! Take Arthur’s borrowed horse with you, and please pass our greetings along to your wise father.”
Britt patted Roen’s neck, then sauntered her borrowed horse back to Maleagant, handing off the reins to him.
Maleagant swiped them from her and wasted no time turning his horse towards his father’s castle.
Britt watched him trot off as she retreated back to Roen’s side. “I’m surprised you let him go. I thought you would insist he come to Camelot with us right now to serve as extra encouragement for King Bagdemagus to come.”
“There’s no need for it. If King Bagdemagus made arrangements with you, I’m certain he will come,” Merlin said.
Britt open her mouth to argue, but Kay dismounted from his horse, approached her, and then embraced her. Kay’s hugs were a rare thing, and Britt couldn’t recall the last time he’d given her one publicly. So, she happily hugged her foster brother back, and briefly rested her chin on his armor-covered shoulder. “Thank you for coming for me.”
When Kay released her, she met the gaze of the other knights. “I mean it: thank you.”
Gawain smiled. “We will follow you wherever you go, My Lord.”
Britt returned the smile with her own grin, a true one, not the professional one she used when playing Arthur.
“It is our honor to serve you.” Percival blushed and fussed with his horse’s reins.
“As the Queen’s Champion, of course I shall always ride to your rescue,” Lancelot said, ruining the moment.
Britt’s eyebrow twitched in irritation, but she ignored the mouthy knight. “So, what game are you playing, Merlin? I know you didn’t send him back for the fun of it.” She groaned a little as she put her foot into the saddle and mounted Roen.
“We need more information on the Romans,” Merlin said. “I didn’t particularly want to conduct our search with Duke Maleagant leering over our shoulders.”
“I agree more information is needed,” Kay said. “However, our first priority should be returning Arthur—Britt—to Camelot.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes and shook his head.
“We could always split up,” Gawain said. “Sir Kay and I could see the king back to Camelot and alert your spy ring, Merlin.”
“We haven’t the time,” Merlin said. “The Romans are moving now. They obviously are not aiming to attack anyone in the next few days, but they are moving somewhere. I wish to learn their plans now, before they have the chance to cook up something particularly nasty.”
Kay frowned as he mounted up his horse. “Are you really so worried we don’t have the time to take Britt back?”
“I did not predict King Ryence would side with the Romans,” Merlin said grimly. “So yes, time is of the essence.”
“Suits me just fine,” Britt said. “I’d like to see these Romans everybody’s talking about. Are they wearing the stereotypical breastplate and little skirt things?”
Percival scratched his chin. “Skirt things?”
Merlin crinkled his forehead. “I have no idea what you are referring to, but they are dressed in King Ryence’s colors and uniforms, as you may remember.”
“Oh, yeah. So we’ll skulk around and scout out the Romans for a few days before heading back to Camelot? Sounds great to me.”
Kay’s frown deepened so much, even his mustache could not hide it.
“A day or two is all we will need, lass,” Merlin said. “Then your overprotective seneschal will be granted his wish of dragging you back to Camelot.”
“That’s no fun,” Britt said.
Kay, on the other hand, nodded in agreement.
“We must begin our scouting and spying with all haste,” Merlin announced.
Lancelot placed his hand over his heart. “Of course! Fear not, for though I am the best knight in Camelot, I am also quite skilled in matters of subterfuge.”
“You only think you’re the best knight because Gawain was not present for the tournament last summer, and Kay and Bodwain were not allowed to enter,” Britt growled.
“Should we separate for this task?” Gawain asked.
“It would allow us to cover more ground, and you did say time is of the essence,” Percival piped in.
Merlin adjusted his cloak while the wind brushed through his fine blonde hair. “Yes, my plan is for us to split up in pairs.”
“Great!” Britt chirped. “I’m with you or Kay, I assume?”
Merlin smile crawled across his face and dripped with smugness. “No, I’m afraid not.”
Britt collected up her reins. “Then Gawain? Percival?”
Merlin shook his head.
Britt dropped her good humor like a rock. “You can’t!”
“I’m afraid I must,” Merlin said. “For you must pay for the great worry you caused me.”
“But it wasn’t my fault!” Britt protested.
“You should have thought of that before you spent the night in the castle and refrained from checking to see if we were in the area. That was a whole extra night my tired nerves had to suffer through.” Merlin sorrowfully shook his head.
“I’m sorry. Truly. Really.” She did her best to grovel from horseback, though Roen was taller than Merlin’s mount. “I’ll do anything! Just please don’t pair me with…”
“Every time! Every time he’s angry with me, he sticks me with you.” Britt muttered at the road, her mood too foul to even look at her search partner.
“It is my honor to be consistently paired with you, Britt,” Lance said with his odiously charming smile.
“That’s Arthur to you. And it’s an honor I wish Merlin would not bestow upon you so often,” Britt grumbled. She glanced up at the cloudy sky and strained her ears for the telltale noises of the Roman army—the neighing of horses, the jingle of tack, or the clang of armor.
Britt and Lancelot had been sent north of King Bagdemagus’s lands. Their objective was to estimate the number of soldiers in the area and see if they could deduce in what direction the Romans were marching.
Britt didn’t hear any sign of them yet, but Percival had said t
hey were traveling on the main roads.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand why it is such a punishment for you to ride with me,” Lancelot said. “I am the best knight in Camelot, your champion, and your most loyal subject.”
Britt snorted. “You are not my most loyal subject. I’m not even convinced you’re loyal to me at all.”
“How could you say such a thing?” Lancelot protested. “I took my oaths to you with great seriousness.” He patted his horse when it shook its head.
“Do you really want me to recite the list?” Britt shifted in her saddle so she could flatly stare at the charming knight. “Because, let me remind you, at the very top of it is the fact that you stabbed me in the shoulder!”
Lancelot lazily swapped his hand through the air. “That was long ago.”
“That was last summer!”
He ignored her correction. “Since your gender was revealed, I feel I have been quite helpful. After all, it was I who spoke out to the rest the Knights of the Round Table when they questioned you as our king.” He smiled benignly.
Britt, not trusting his pretty face and smile, raised her eyebrows. “If you have helped me, it is only because it has served your need at the time.”
“All I want is your affection and approval,” Lancelot said with false innocence.
Though he used pretty manners, Britt was not fooled. Merlin might think her paranoid, but ever since Lancelot asked to be called the Queen’s Champion and secretly established the Order of the Queen’s Knights, Britt knew Lancelot had to have a sneaky agenda he was aiming to achieve. If he really wanted her to like him, she knew it was not merely because he wanted them to be friends.
She pressed her lips together to keep her sharp observations in. “If it is my affection you are seeking to secure, let me assure you you’re going about it all wrong.”
“Yes, I recently realized that as well.” Lancelot smiled at her, but it was more of a smirk than his charming grin. “It occurred to me that if I really want your affection, I would be wisest to act like Merlin.”
Britt turned Roen so sharply he almost ran into Lancelot’s dapple gray horse. Lancelot’s smirk grew as Britt clenched her teeth. “Lancelot,” she growled.
They were interrupted by the pounding of horse hooves.
Britt and Lancelot twisted in their saddles to see four mounted soldiers pop out of the woods that surrounded the road they traveled. The soldiers spotted them and pulled their horses into an abrupt halt.
Well. So much for subtlety.
Britt made her stiff irritation with Lancelot drain away. She smiled lazily, her eyes at half mast, as the soldiers corrected their course straight for her and Lancelot. Her nerves buzzed with their approach.
It was likely the soldiers were scouts sent ahead of an army. If Britt and Lancelot could not convince them they were harmless, they would probably have to fight their way out. She didn’t think four soldiers would be a problem, particularly if she and Lancelot worked together. The bigger issue would be the army would then be alerted to their presence.
“Hail, sir knights,” one of the soldiers called out.
“Greetings,” Britt chirped. She was quite proud that her voice did not quiver.
Lancelot, never to be outdone, added, “How fare you soldiers this fine day?”
Three of the soldiers frowned and looked up at the clouded, gloomy sky. The fourth drew his horse closer to Britt and Lancelot. “Quite well, thank you sirs. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
Though Britt kept her expression bland, she did not miss the way the soldier’s hand crept towards the daggers attached to his sword belt.
Lancelot, however, smiled. “I am Sir Lancelot of King Arthur’s court.”
Britt fought the urge to reach out and shake Lancelot until his brains were jostled. What kind of an idiot announced his name on a mission of secrecy? “And I am Sir Galahad,” she was quick to add, lest he thoughtlessly oust her as a king.
The soldier narrowed his eyes, and behind him his companions stirred, all reaching for various weaponry. “What are King Arthur’s knights doing in these parts? These lands belong to King Bagdemagus, and he is no friend of Arthur’s.”
“Actually…” Lancelot began.
“We are here on a quest,” Britt blurted.
The soldier raised an eyebrow. “A quest?”
“Indeed,” Britt said, racking her mind for a possible mission. Unfortunately, no ideas were forthcoming. She frantically tried to recall any sort of King Arthur legend she’d heard in the twenty-first century—any movie or TV show even! “We are here, searching for the famous, hallowed, legendary…Holy Grail.” It took all of her experience of acting as a boy king to keep her eyes from bulging at her lie.
The soldier’s other eyebrow joined the first half way up his forehead. “You search for the Holy Grail?”
“Yes, yes we do.” Britt nodded. She flashed him a smile and hoped he didn’t notice how profusely she was sweating, even though it was a cold day. We are in so much trouble if he asks for any specifics. She hadn’t the faintest idea what the Holy Grail was. The only reason she’d even thought of it in the first place was because of the Monty Python movie.
“That is indeed a quest worth pursuing,” the soldier said. Behind him, his compatriots nodded.
Lancelot piously bowed his head. “We do it not for personal glory or honor, but seek only to serve the Lord with our swords.”
With Lancelot’s false devotion, the soldiers released their weapons and took up their horse’s reins. “Your piety is admirable,” the spokes-soldier said. “We wish you Godspeed on your journey.”
Britt blinked. They believe us? And they’re letting us go without further interrogation?
“Thank you,” Lancelot said with enviable smoothness. “We hope God sees fit to show us the right path.”
Britt bowed her head and followed Lancelot when he nudged his gelding forward. Together, they continued down the road at a peaceful pace. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from turning around and gawking back at the soldiers. Based on the snorts of their horses and the jingling of their bridles, the soldiers watched them for some time before urging their horses back into the woods.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Britt muttered once they were gone.
Lancelot shifted slightly so he could peer behind them. “It was well done, for now we have an excuse to wander about the area.”
“At least we know they must be close by. Which reminds me, was it really necessary to use your real name? They might have let us go, but now they know knights from the Round Table are in the area. Merlin is going to be ticked.”
“I would have used an alias if I could have, but I am unfortunately all too recognizable,” Lancelot said.
“Are you kidding me?” Britt asked. “Nobody in this time has cameras, or pictures, or Facebook.”
Lancelot gave her a puzzled frown, but Britt continued her tirade. “You could’ve said you were literally anyone in Britain, and they would’ve had to believe you.”
“If I wore unmarked armor and rode an unmarked horse, perhaps,” Lancelot said. “Unfortunately, before I joined your court, I rode frequently through all of Britain. As a result, my charger and its barding are rather recognizable, as is my coat of arms. While we might have been able to fool them this time, if they saw us again in the future, they would perhaps learn the truth. That would not end well.”
Britt was not entirely convinced. She thought it was just as likely that Lancelot was merely an idiot and hadn’t thought to use a different name. But his expression was unusually serious as he narrowed his eyes and stared ahead.
“I recommend we continue to ride down the road, and once we reach an acceptable distance, circle back and move into the woods,” he said.
Britt stretched her arms in front of her, then reached down to hug Roen. “Fine by me.” She cast one final glance over her shoulder at the eerily empty road behind them.
Chapter 5
<
br /> The Quest for the Holy Grail
Britt jumped down the last few rungs of the hay loft ladder just as Merlin finished scratching a rough map into the packed dirt of the stable floor.
After regrouping once everyone had finished their spying assignment, Gawain and Percival reported they had found a kind farmer who would let them stay in his stable overnight. Although spring had almost come, nights were still cold and windy, making camping a miserable experience.
So Britt, Merlin, and her knights gladly set up camp in the stable. Their bedrolls and packs were stowed in the much warmer hayloft, and their horses contentedly chewed on hay in the few spare stalls the farmer had.
“Based on our observations, it seems the Romans are moving northeast,” Merlin said. He frowned as he drew arrows in the dirt that represented the Roman soldiers they had run into.
Britt paused to pat Roen on the neck. “I think it’s worth mentioning all the groups are small companies, not huge armies.”
“Indeed,” Merlin said. “It’s unfortunate. Bigger armies are easier to spy on, track, and predict in terms of movement patterns.”
Kay twitched his mustache. “It seems they are spreading across the land like a disease.”
Merlin glanced up from his drawing to the taciturn knight. “Yes. They are all moving separately and as individual units rather than following one path to a specific location.”
Gawain tossed his horse another flake of hay. “It’s an unusual strategy, particularly as the troops are all foot soldiers.”
“True. I’ve heard of small companies of knights moving like this, but when we went up against the other kings after I was crowned, the armies always stayed collected,” Britt said.
Mordred tapped his fingers on his sword belt. “If we could intercept orders for several of the companies, I believe it would shed light on the mystery of their actions.”
“Of course it would,” Percival said. “But how would we accomplish such a task? Unless, Merlin, could you do it with magic?”
“You mean scrying for them, or some such nonsense?” Merlin shook his head. “’Tis impossible. Though it is a commonly used spell in stories, even the faerie folk cannot manage such a thing.”