by K. M. Shea
Britt certainly hoped that would not be the case, but she was impressed that Gawain had remembered her excuse/promise to buy herself some time so no one would begin demanding she marry and produce an heir. “Your faithful memory is both impressive and touching, nephew,” Britt said. “But, I would like to continue on our journey. You will join us, Lady Vivien?”
Vivien smiled widely at Merlin. “Of course!”
“As if I would allow you from my sight after we’ve been parted for so long,” Merlin said. (Britt was at least slightly mollified to hear the obviously forced affection in his voice. Vivien had to be incredibly self-confident to believe it was her spell that made Merlin act so. That, or she had no notion of sarcasm.)
Wordlessly, Britt nudged Roen forward, into the shadows of the forest. The rest of the party followed her, moving around as they tried to find a new organizational pattern that would fit their unwanted guest.
Merlin moved to ride at the front, and Vivien of course trailed after him. As they passed Britt, Britt noticed Vivien’s gaze lingering on Excalibur. It struck her as slightly odd. Though it was known that Excalibur was a magical sword given to her by Nymue, no one seemed to show much appreciation for it besides herself.
Uneasily, she remembered Vivien’s encounter with Lancelot. “Lady Vivien, you mentioned meeting my best knight, Sir Lancelot. Tell me, how has he been since leaving our company?” She nodded to Gawain as he joined her, riding side-by-side with her as Percival took up the rear.
“He seemed well enough!” Lady Vivien said. “As handsome as always.”
“I hope you did not find him too handsome,” Merlin said.
Vivien giggled. “You jealous thing!”
“And how are his spirits?” Gawain asked.
“Fine, I assume. I only saw him briefly, for he seemed intent on riding forward when I so desired to find Merlin.” Vivien paused to smile at Merlin. “He mentioned your search for the Holy Grail, but said little else besides that.”
Britt bit the inside of her cheek. Had Lancelot held his peace because he did not know Vivien was a spy? Or had his temper already cooled?
Either way, she did not relish the idea of their inevitable reunion. But for now, she had greater things to busy herself with, like Rome.
After a few days of riding—and putting up with the sight of Vivien and Merlin—they reached the Forest of Arroy.
“We’re in the home stretch now.” Britt covered a yawn with her hand. “Do you think we’ll reach Camelot in another day?” she asked her companions.
“Two is more probable, I should think,” Percival said. As twilight settled in the woods, it softened his features. “The forest is impressively large—and that’s only if we aren’t led around by faerie folk.”
“Not a chance,” Britt said. “I’ve never been bothered by—”
“King Arthur. I challenge you!”
Britt almost cracked her neck, she swung around so quickly.
Standing in the middle of the road that meandered through the forest of Arroy was a knight. He held a huge war axe, his armor was an artful combination of black and silver, and the longer Britt looked at him, the more she was positive that he was not human. (The biggest hint were the little sparks of light that hovered around him like fireflies.)
The strangled gasp Merlin gave affirmed Britt’s guess.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Sir Knight,” Britt was quick to say. “King Arthur does not ride with us. We are but his humble servants.”
The knight levied the axe in Britt’s direction. “You are no mere knight, but King Arthur himself. I challenge you to a fight.”
Nope! No way is that gonna happen. Magical scabbard or not, Britt knew better than to fight a magic knight.
Gawain moved his horse so it stepped closer to Roen. “We should turn around, now.”
“Amen.” Merlin muttered.
“But it’s a challenge,” Vivien said. “Shouldn’t Arthur, king or not, agree to fight? It is his personal honor at stake!”
“Personal honor is not worth fighting a faerie knight,” Gawain said in a lowered tone.
“You refused to fight me?” The faerie knight growled.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Britt said. She was following Gawain’s advice, and intended to retreat, but the faerie knight slammed his war axe into the ground, making the earth rumble.
“Your refusal will bring you dishonor and shame,” the knight said.
Vivien, perched daintily on her saddle, nodded vigorously. “He’s right, My Lord.”
“Don’t care,” Britt said. She fought Roen to get him turned around, but the warhorse kept pawing at the ground and snorting at the knight.
“If you do not wish to fight me, then you can display your intellect and answer my riddle,” the faerie knight said. “If you answer correctly, I shall let you pass. But if you answer incorrectly…” The knight picked up his axe and whirled it, slicing straight through a sapling tree.
“I don’t mind a bit of a detour,” Percival said brightly. “The forest of Arroy is a lovely place.” Both he and Gawain had their horses turned around.
(Britt was glad it was they who traveled with her, and not Lancelot or Ywain. Both of those warmongers would’ve insisted on fighting the faerie knight.) But, Britt’s curiosity got the better of her.
“May I ask you what your riddle is before committing?” She asked.
“Indeed. My riddle is this: what does every woman in the world want most?” the faerie knight said.
Britt blinked. “Seriously?”
The knight, his face obscured by his black and silver helm, nodded. “It is a mystery scholars and scientists have never been able to confirm.”
Britt frowned, considering the riddle, as Merlin hissed under his breath—upset but unable to outright go against Vivien.
An old woman dressed in frayed clothes popped out of the forest next to Merlin and Vivien with a cackle, making their horses spook. “I know the answer to the riddle, My Lord.” The old lady gripped the edges of her skirt and curtsied to Britt. “I will gladly tell you the answer, if Sir Gawain will agree to marry me!”
Vivien faked a swoon of horror, and Gawain narrowed his eyes at the old hag while Britt shook her head at the entire mess.
“Sometimes such weird and bizarre things happen here in medieval England, I question my sanity,” Britt said.
“Take the offer, My Lord,” Gawain said.
“Gawain, no! Arthur, it’s a simple matter of turning around and going back. There’s no need for Gawain to sacrifice himself in this way,” Percival said.
“I still believe Arthur should face the knight in combat,” Vivien said, recovering herself. “Arthur cannot be beaten as long as he is in combat.”
“I’m afraid you have overestimated our delightful king,” Merlin said. Though his voice was pitched to sound carefree, Britt could hear the clear struggle in his voice as he held back to keep from screaming at Vivien. “Though Arthur is quite talented with the sword, I don’t believe anyone could stand up to what is clearly a fae knight and his magic blade.”
Gawain leaned alarmingly out of his saddle so he could closely address Britt. “Take the old woman’s bargain, Britt,” he whispered. “We can’t afford to delay; we must return to Camelot and prepare for Rome.”
The hag cackled. “I promise I will make a fine wife for you, Sir Gawain!”
Judging that the magic knight wasn’t about to pounce on her, Britt tuned out the chaos her party was raising.
Thinking over the knight’s question, she considered the females she knew best from this era. Guinevere, Nymue, Morgan, and Morgause. Is there one thing they all desire? Thinking over their behavior, they’re entirely different people and would want entirely different things. But faerie folk are tricky, so there must be something…
Guinevere had done everything in her power to get out of her father’s clutches and secure freedom for herself. Morgause had taken great risks to try and secure her own personal goals, and Morgan worked hand-
in-hand with her sister while Nymue made decrees with the efficiency of a queen. What could they possibly all want?
“Gawain, you’re the Ladies’ Knight and the eldest son of a king. You can’t marry that,” Percival said.
“If my marriage will spare the king, I shall do it gladly,” Gawain said.
Vivien sighed in appreciation. “So honorable!”
“What say you, King Arthur?” The hag tapped her claw-like fingers together. “Will you take my reasonably priced bargain?”
“My patience is draining, King Arthur,” the faerie knight said.
“Arthur,” Merlin hissed.
“I got it!” Britt said. She lifted her eyes and gazed straight at the knight. “The answer to the riddle is women most want their own way.”
Silence ruled over the road and forest for several long moments.
“I beg your pardon?” the hag asked finally.
Britt scratched an itch on her scalp. “Women want to do whatever they want, um, phrasing it so you would understand it…women want to follow their own will.”
“You’re right,” the knight said, sounding flabbergasted and shocked.
“He’s right,” the old woman repeated, clearly just as shocked.
Britt glanced back and forth between the pair, their reactions unexpected. Are they a racketeering team? Do they work together to hold up knights in the middle of the forest? But if that were the case, demanding for the lady to become Gawain’s wife is a stupid demand. Not to mention if Nymue found out about their little operation, she’d stamp them down flat.
“Well done, Arthur!” Merlin trumpeted. “Using your head! What a wonderful answer! Though, might I add, you were quite foolish to blurt out the answer when we could’ve easily avoided this whole mess by turning around?” There was a hint of a bite to Merlin’s tone, and Britt knew she was going to get an endless lecture if he managed to corner her in Camelot without Vivien.
Gawain and Percival smiled peacefully, less upset with the risk Britt took due to their overconfidence in her abilities. “As usual, you show great insight, My Lord,” Gawain said.
Britt barely noticed his warm smile, she was so preoccupied with the way the old lady stared up at Gawain like he hung the moon.
“Your wisdom is far greater than your years,” the faerie knight awkwardly said as he began shuffling to the side. “You have won the right to move forward. If, now, you’ll just excuse me...”
Britt held up a hand to forestall him. “Wait just a moment. I wish to speak to the lady, privately.” She slid from Roen’s back, and as she approached the hag, the old woman anxiously knit her fingers together and bit her lip in a youthful expression.
Britt placed her hand in the middle of the woman’s back and drew the crone farther down the road. When she was certain they could speak without being overheard, she paused and stepped back. She gave the hag a careful inspection, wondering if her vague gut feeling was correct.
Gawain had a lot of admirers, almost as many as Lancelot. But none, as far as she knew, had magic. Except… “Ragnelle? Is that you?”
The old lady blushed like a neon sign. “How could you tell?” she asked, her voice nearly a squeak.
“It was just a hunch.” Britt rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t thought it was going to be Nymue’s handmaiden, but knew it was a faint possibility. Really, she had hoped the handmaiden would have known better. “I’m assuming Nymue did not put you up to this, and this is instead your own little scheme you hatched to get Gawain’s attention?”
“My Lady was not at all involved!” Ragnelle said. Her voice was no longer scratchy, but tranquil like a lake. “The faerie knight is a friend of mine who agreed to aid me. Please, do not be angry with him or with my Lady, King Arthur! We never would’ve harmed you!”
“I believe you, but I have to say I’m quite disappointed with you. Did you not learn anything from Lady Ettard and Sir Pelleas’ ridiculous love affair?” Britt asked.
Ragnelle blushed and stared down at her holey leather shoes. “But when I attempted to approach him at Lady Ettard’s castle, he was attentive but uninterested.”
“Trying once does not count as a serious attempt,” Britt said. “Nymue is always visiting Camelot; you could come with her and try talking to Gawain again. Or you could visit us alone! The possibilities are endless—you didn’t have to set up a roadside robbery.”
“I apologize. My actions were extremely shameful,” Ragnelle said mournfully.
Britt groaned and tried to avoid looking at her. (She always was a sucker for a sad person. That was how Guinevere had conned her into inviting her coming to Camelot.) She rubbed at the bags under her eyes. “My gosh. Does everybody from this time have screwed up ideas about how they should begin a dating relationship? This place needs ‘eHarmony: the Camelot edition.’ Like, yesterday.”
“Are you going to tell Sir Gawain of my dishonorable actions?” Ragnelle asked timidly.
Britt tapped her foot on the dusty road. “No. Do you know why? Because that would bring you to his attention, and your punishment for this little stunt is going to be that you have to create a normal relationship with him in an emotionally healthy, responsible way. That means no magic necklaces, no magic potions, no roadside robberies.”
Ragnelle stared at her with wide eyes that were completely out of place on her old woman disguise. “You’re not going to banish me—or forbid me from seeing him?”
“No. To begin with, Gawain is responsible for his own love life. But if I’m being honest, you’ve shown more pluck than a lot of the girls who sigh after him have.” Britt rubbed the back of her neck and studied Gawain thoughtfully.
He was eyeing the faerie knight, who still lingered at the edge of the woods, and spoke quietly with Percival, who held Roen’s reins. Though Merlin was speaking with Vivien, who—based on the speed at which she fluttered her eyelashes—was probably flirting with him, the wizard managed to give Britt a glare or two, clearly disliking her being outside of grabbing distance.
Making up her mind, Britt returned her attention to the handmaiden. “I feel like I should probably give you a good example of a way to normally approach Gawain, as most love stories seem to be lacking common sense. So I’m going to help you—but just this once!”
Britt waited for Ragnelle to nod happily before she continued. “We’re still too far away from Camelot, so we’ll have to camp out tonight. Find a good spot for a campsite just a short ways up the road, then pop out of the woods—as yourself—and tell us you have prepared a place for us to rest. That gives you an excuse to talk to us for a while this night, and it will give Gawain a favorable impression of you.”
Ragnelle looked crestfallen. “That is a much better idea than mine.”
“Yeah. But the fact that you realize it that quickly is a good sign for you.” Britt smiled at her. “We’ll see you soon.”
She turned to go, but Ragnelle momentarily forestalled her. “Oh, I wanted to let you know, My Lord: I passed your message onto Lady Nymue. She said she did not know what a purse was, but she trusted that as it was your idea, it must serve a lethal purpose that would allow you to suffocate Sir Lancelot.”
Britt almost choked on the gurgle of laughter that threatened to spill from her lips. “Thanks for telling her, Ragnelle. We’ll see you shortly.”
Ragnelle curtsied with her usual amount of grace, then faded into the forest like a shadow, the faerie knight moments behind her.
Britt shook her head and turned back to her companions. “Everything’s fine! We should have a safe ride from here on.”
Percival squinted up at the small patches of sky that could be seen between the leaves budding on the trees. “We won’t be able to travel much longer.”
“Splendid!” Britt said with a winning smile. “We’ll just have to be on the lookout for an appropriate campsite then.”
In the early hours of the morning, just before dawn began to brighten the eastern horizon, Britt dozed fitfully in her blankets.
&
nbsp; As Britt had suggested, Ragnelle found a perfect campsite for them the previous night and spent the evening with them before Merlin and the knights retired. Britt had stayed up several more hours, plagued by her insomnia, but she was exhausted enough that sometime after midnight, she was able to collapse in her bedroll and sleep.
Still, she’d never been a particularly sound sleeper, so when she heard something rustle nearby, she blearily woke up and pushed her hair out of her face.
The overripe taste of sleep still in her mouth, Britt pushed herself up on her elbows. A woman dressed in a cloak carefully hefted a sword, struggling to find the best way to hold it as she quietly stole up to a saddled and bridled horse. Britt’s mind sharpened with sudden clarity when she realized the woman was Vivien, and she was taking Excalibur.
Britt deftly rolled out of her blankets and popped to her feet, stretching all of her muscles so she was able to grasp Excalibur’s hilt with one outstretched arm. She yanked back, pulling the magic sword free from its enchanted scabbard.
Vivien whirled around, her eyes narrowed with hot rage.
Britt adjusted her stance so she put her weight on the balls of her feet, raised Excalibur as if to run Vivien through, and sucked in a breath to wake her companions.
Vivien held up a hand and clenched it, cutting Britt’s air supply off mid-breath.
Britt’s lungs burned, and her throat spasmed as she tried to get air. She would’ve dropped Excalibur, but she was terrified the traitor would run off with it. She sank to her knees—the bit of air she had in her lungs unable to keep her standing. She couldn’t make a sound, but just as the world started to grow hazy, she saw Merlin sit upright in his bedroll.
She lost her sight, but she heard him roar with the ferocity and volume of a dragon. There was another howl, but this one sounded like the mindless utterances of a roaring fire, and Britt felt heat pool around the campsite.
Her throat and lungs abruptly popped open, and she gasped, thankfully gulping in air. She blinked, trying to clear her tear-blurred eyes. Her vision focused enough that she could make out Vivien, throwing herself onto her horse and galloping away into the darkness of the night.