“Your Majesty,” Galahad blurted, “I should wish—”
“Later, my boy.” Arthur waved away his words.
“But, sire—”
“Not now, Galahad.” The king cast him a quelling glance and Galahad bit back an imprudent reply. He’d always been in Arthur’s good graces yet even a favorite knew when to keep still.
“Merlin,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, “is this really necessary?”
“It is imperative, sire,” Merlin said quietly. “Success is impossible without her.”
“Very well then.” The king heaved a resigned sigh. “Although I daresay I am not at all confident that a mere woman—”
“Excuse me?” Tessa raised an indignant hand. “Mere woman?”
“I suspect there is nothing at all mere about this woman, sire,” Guinevere said lightly. “Merlin would not entrust such an undertaking to a mere woman.”
“Mere woman?” Tessa clasped her hands together in front of her—as if to keep them under control—and leaned toward the wizard. “This is a pretty universal concept, isn’t it?”
“Middle Ages.” Merlin shrugged. “What did you expect?”
“Enough.” Arthur’s voice carried a note of command that silenced even Tessa. “She is an impertinent wench, I’ll give you that.”
Tessa started to protest. Arthur raised a royal brow and she closed her mouth quickly.
“I do not comprehend half of her mutterings, Merlin, nor do I fully understand your reasoning. Still, ’tis only when I disregard your advice that trouble befalls me. I learned long ago to heed your words.”
“Your Majesty flatters me.” Merlin swept a low bow.
Arthur snorted. “You know as well as I do, old friend, ’tis a truth we both rely on. As you wish then.” Arthur glanced at Galahad with a speculative eye then back to Merlin. “Now?”
“Sire, this is Lady Tessa’s first sampling of the castle’s hospitality. She has taken her meals in her rooms since her arrival. I should think it would be only courteous to allow her to enjoy the evening’s festivities first. ’Tis time enough later.”
“Just a few centuries,” Tessa said under her breath. “Hey!” She glared at Merlin and rubbed her arm as if struck or poked or pinched by an unseen hand.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Merlin bowed and again prodded Tessa into a curtsy, somewhat less clumsy than the first but still lacking the polished ease of one used to such things. ’Twas a shame Galahad would not have more time to learn about her home. Or about her.
Merlin escorted Tessa to the seat between Galahad and Lancelot. She glared at the wizard and again rubbed her arm. “If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to be black and blue before this is all over.”
“’Tis not an entirely unpleasant possibility, my lady.” A teasing note underlaid Lancelot’s voice.
“’Tisn’t it? I mean, it’s not?” Tessa stared at his father.
“No indeed. Why, with hair the color of sunlight such as yours, black would only enhance your beauty. And as for blue…”
“Yeah?” Tessa cocked her head in a most flirtatious and unbecoming manner. “I can’t wait for this one.”
“The blue of the sky would only flatter eyes that have the hue of the good earth itself. Deep and rich and,” he took her hand and raised it to his lips, “fertile.”
Galahad groaned to himself.
“Whoa. You’re as good as he is.” Tessa glanced at Galahad over her shoulder. “Now I see where you get it from.”
“I have taught him all he knows.” Lancelot cast her a wicked smile. “But ’tis said no matter how the student excels he can never eclipse the teacher.”
“Really? But surely you don’t believe in old sayings? For example, I’ve always heard it said those who can, do, and those who can’t…” Tessa fluttered her lashes, “teach.”
Galahad sucked in his breath.
Lancelot stared speechless.
Tessa appeared completely oblivious to the insult she had just hurled at a man who did not take insult lightly. Especially when the subject at hand was his charm with fair ladies.
A grin broke across Lancelot’s face. “Well said.” He laughed in the manner of a man who could appreciate a good jest even when it was at his expense. “Well said, indeed.”
Tessa smiled sweetly and sat down. Galahad blew a relieved sigh and dropped into his seat. His father, still laughing, took his place on Tessa’s other side and winked at his son. “Merlin is right about this one, she has a great deal of spirit.”
“Spirit, I grant you.” Galahad leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. “But she may not be as clever as she thinks to mock a man she has but met.”
“Worse than that,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “I’m a teacher.”
“What is that?” Tessa stared in disbelief at the newest course presented to the king.
“What?” Galahad glanced down the table at the platter laid before Arthur. “Oh, ’tis a swan, I believe.”
“But it’s,” she grimaced, “cooked.”
Galahad quirked a brow. “Surely, even in your land, you would not eat it otherwise?”
“No, of course not. But it has…feathers.” Her stomach churned but she couldn’t seem to wrench her gaze away. It was like an onlooker staring at the scene of an accident. “Feathers. Stuck on the bird. Yuck.”
He nodded approvingly at the dish. “Aye, and a head as well. ’Tis most lifelike.”
“Too lifelike if you ask me.”
“One does not eat the feathers.”
“Well, this one will pass on the rest of it too.” She pushed away the chunk of bread that served as a plate. “Anyway, I’ve had enough, thank you. I think it was the fish that did it. Very tasty.” She picked up her goblet and drew a long swallow of some kind of unidentifiable, overly sweet wine. She’d had far too much of the drink already but the fish and everything else she’d tasted in a seemingly endless parade of courses was so heavily salted and seasoned, she needed something to wash it down. The garlic alone in this meal was probably lethal.
Galahad leaned back in his chair and waved away a servant bearing the platter of swan. “’Tis not to your liking? Any of it?”
Right now, she’d kill for a hamburger or a Caesar salad or grilled chicken, sans feathers. She pulled her gaze away from the bird. “Let’s just say we have different tastes.”
“I do not understand you, Tessa.” He shook his head. “You display no knowledge of the common courtesies taught from birth. You are surprised at the most trivial details of life. You do not pay proper respect to a magician who can destroy you with a blink of his eye. And your demeanor before the king was questionable.”
“I thought I was pretty together when I met Arthur.”
“And your words grow no clearer with the passing days.” Galahad narrowed his eyes and considered her. “You are a puzzle, Tessa St. James. There is obviously some purpose to your presence yet ’tis clear you do not wish to be here. I would offer you my assistance but ’tis impossible as long as you refuse to answer my questions. You are as obstinate as you are lovely.”
“Thanks. I think.”
His eyes darkened. “Do not jest with me. ’Twas not meant as a compliment.”
“I know.” She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “And I am sorry. I wish I could throw myself into all this but frankly,” she bent toward him, “this is really weird and I’m a little freaked out.”
“Speak plainly, Tessa.” Frustration colored his face. “Your words make no sense.” He reached forward and grabbed her hand. “I would help you if I could.”
Her hand looked so small and fragile engulfed in his grip. She pulled her gaze away to lock with his. “What if the situation were reversed?” she said slowly. “What if I could help you?”
“Help me do what?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She tilted her head as if she was trying to think of some minor favor she could do for him. “Something significant. Something important.”
&nbs
p; “’Tis an odd question.” He scoffed. “I am a man, a warrior, a knight. You are a me—”
“Don’t say it!”
He grinned. “A woman. Delicate and born to be protected and coddled. A lady could no more assist a knight in matters of importance than a man could fly.”
Don’t bet on it. “Seriously, would you accept my help?”
“I cannot imagine—”
“Stop it, Galahad.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me. Would you take my help?”
“Very well, my lady.” He smiled in a condescending manner as if humoring a small child. Annoying but worth it. “I would accept your assistance.”
“Do you promise?”
“I—”
“Promise, Big Guy. On your word of honor. As a knight.” She forced a pleading, feminine note to her voice. “Please. For me.”
“As you wish.” His eyes sparked and he pulled her hand to his lips. “For you.”
“Great.” She sighed with relief.
“And what kind of assistance will you be offering me?” He brushed his lips over her fingertips and she steeled herself to the unwelcome shiver he aroused.
“Well…” She glanced down the table to catch Merlin’s eye. He nodded and rose to his feet. It was time.
“Hmmm?”
She pulled her hand from Galahad’s. “There’s no good way to break this to you.” She kissed her finger—“I’m going to help you”—bent closer and touched the tip of his nose—“find the Grail.”
Chapter Nine
Tessa leaped to her feet and took off in her best bat-out-of-hell imitation.
“What!” Galahad’s roar behind her echoed through the hall.
Tessa scrambled off the dais, sprinted around the corner and skidded to a halt beside Merlin. She refused to look back.
“Very nice.” Sarcasm dripped from the wizard’s words. “Did we learn that from the good sisters at St. Margaret Mary’s?”
“Not exactly.” She scooted around Merlin. It was probably wise to put as much distance as possible between Galahad and herself. “I had a professor when I was a graduate student who wanted to teach me a few little items that weren’t listed in the course requirements.”
“I see. Hence the formidable agility.” He chuckled. “It should serve you well in the coming days.”
Tessa peeked around Merlin. Galahad stood like a bronze colossus, his hands fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched. “Boy, is he pissed. If looks could kill—”
“Fortunately for you, his can’t. Mine, on the other hand—”
“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice carried a note of impatience. “If you and the lady are quite ready, I’m certain the rest of us are eager to get on with it.”
“We are, sire.” Merlin bowed.
“Do I have to curtsy again?” Tessa said for the wizard’s ears alone.
“The way you do it, there’s very little point.”
“Galahad.” The king nodded at the knight.
Galahad jerked his gaze away from her and toward the king. “Your Majesty?”
“If you would join Merlin and Lady Tessa.”
Galahad nodded sharply. Within a moment he stood on Merlin’s other side, towering over the magician. Why did he look so much bigger when he was mad? He kept his gaze fastened on the king and didn’t so much as glance her way. He didn’t need to. The rigid lines of his stance, the hard thrust of his chin and his clenched fists spoke volumes. Tessa shifted to keep as much of the magician between her and the Big Guy as possible.
Arthur studied the knight for a long moment. “I hope you realize, Galahad, I am not a fool.”
Galahad shook his head in surprise. “Sire, I would never suggest such a thing.”
“I have long been aware of your desire to seek the Grail.”
Galahad stepped forward eagerly. “Then, sire, I—”
“However.” Arthur’s voice carried a quiet authority that echoed through the hall and caught the attention of anyone who was not already riveted to the drama playing out at the head table, with the possible exception of Viviane, who simply examined her well-manicured nails. “You have not been at my court for any length of time in the last ten years.”
“No, sire, but I—”
“Therefore I have not had the opportunity to seriously assess your fitness for such an undertaking.”
Galahad raised his chin. “Have I not proven myself worthy through the years of doing your bidding?”
“Indeed, you have carried out my bidding with remarkable success. I could not have asked for more.” Arthur leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped together, index fingers steepled. “Now, I do. Much more. Regardless of whether you believe this to be your heart’s desire, you do so in my name.
“’Tis not easy for a king to send a man, any man, on a mission of this nature.” The king paused and for the briefest moment seemed older and tired, as if the burden of governing was too heavy to bear. The perception vanished as fast as it had appeared and he was once again the Arthur of legend. “This quest will be fraught with difficulty. ’Twill certainly require some sacrifice and may well cost you your life.”
“I am not daunted by the prospect, sire.”
“I did not think you would be, my boy.” The corners of Arthur’s lips quirked upward slightly as if he wanted to smile but restrained himself. “I never imagined mere danger would dampen your enthusiasm.”
“Never, Your Majesty.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes and stared silently at Galahad as if looking for the answers to unasked questions or assessing his nature or evaluating his very soul. The king’s gaze and the knight’s fused in speechless communication. The seconds ticked by. Tessa shifted from foot to foot. How long would this last? It was a contest to see who would flinch first. If she’d ever thought standing in front of a principal or a boss or a judge was tough, it was nothing compared to this appraisal by a king.
Abruptly, Arthur nodded as if pleased by whatever it was he found. A communal sigh of released tension swept through the room. “Very well then. If this is indeed what you wish?”
“It is, Your Majesty.”
A rueful smile lingered about the king’s lips. “There is much of your father in you, boy.”
“Thank you, sire,” Galahad and Lancelot said in unison.
“’Tis not always a compliment for a reckless son to be compared to a reckless father.”
“Your Majesty.” Lancelot jumped to his feet. “I do not believe reckless is entirely appropriate. I should think fearless or courageous or even he—”
“Enough, Lance.” The king laughed. “Unless foolhardy was the next item on your long list of virtues, sit down.”
“Foolhardy? Hah!” Lancelot sank back in his chair with an indignant huff. “I was going to say heroic.”
Guinevere cast him an amused glance, as if she’d heard his boasting before and it was simply an endearing trait.
“Reckless,” Arthur said firmly. “I too shared your brash nature in our younger days. ’Tis past time to let your son carry the standard we once bore.”
“I am not ready to join the old men who sit in the market and tell tales of better days yet, sire,” Lancelot muttered.
“Nor am I,” the king said sharply.
“Let me go with him then.” Lancelot leaned toward Arthur eagerly. “’Twould be a grand adventure for father and son. Think of it, Arthur, together we—”
“No more, Lance.” The king’s voice rang with a quiet command and a touch of regret. “I need your counsel here.”
“But, sire—”
“Lance.” Guinevere laid her hand on his arm. “The king depends on your guidance and your wisdom. You cannot deny him that.” She stared at him with an intensity that belied the lightness of her tone. Had their affair already begun?
Lancelot started to say something then looked as if he thought better of it. He shrugged and turned his attention back toward his son, his expression at once envious and proud.
Galahad sla
nted a quick glance in Tessa’s direction and her stomach knotted. She’d half hoped he’d forgotten all about her. No such luck. “Sire, regarding the Lady Tessa—”
“Patience, Galahad. I should think you will need that attribute on this journey. Work on it, my boy. All will be revealed to you in due time.” The king leaned back in his chair and waved a casual hand at the wizard. “Merlin?”
“Your Majesty.” Merlin took a half step forward and cleared his throat in the style of a grand orator or a bad actor. The entertainment was obviously about to begin.
“’Tis detailed in the writings, ancient and wise, the chalice of the Last Supper was given into the keeping of Joseph of Arimathea for the protection offered by his name and his house and his progeny.” Merlin’s voice grew stronger with each word. Tessa glanced around the hall. Spellbound, everyone from Galahad to the lords and ladies of the court to the lowliest servant stared, listening to a story they’d probably heard a thousand times. The medieval version of a rerun.
“’Tis further said Joseph, in his wisdom, carried the Grail to Britain. ’Tis here the mists of time intervene. Did Joseph bury the Grail at Glastonbury, as some would have us believe, or is its hiding place in another location as yet unknown? The trail is lost but for the words of prophets and seers and men of far greater wisdom than the humble servant who stands before you.” Merlin bowed low.
“Give me a break,” Tessa said under her breath.
“The path to the Grail is fraught with danger and challenges destined to test the courage and spirit of any who dare tread upon it. ’Tis written”—Merlin raised his hand high, snapped his fingers and opened his hand. A flame leaped from his palm then died, revealing a tightly wound scroll. Onlookers gasped. She had to give Merlin credit, he knew how to work a crowd.
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