Goddess of Legend

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AT the sound of the knock, Gwen glanced up from her bed to find the countess standing there, looking quite beautiful in a wine-colored gown.

In comparison, Gwen knew she most likely appeared pale and disheveled and that this bed gown was not at all flattering. “Please,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, “enter.”

Isabel stepped into the room and that was when Gwen realized Isabel was holding some sort of black garment in her hand. “How are you feeling this morning, Gwen?”

“I believe somewhat better,” Gwen said. Which was a bit of a lie. In truth, other than a lingering tenderness in her chest, she felt just fine. However, as long as she was abed, she knew that Arthur would continue to visit her, and she might have time to change his mind.

’Twas not that she had stopped loving Lance. Truth was, she loved him desperately. But she feared the loss of her husband just as desperately.

She was being so very selfish, she knew. And deep inside she felt such shame. But since she had been so very young when Arthur had courted and then married her, she knew no other life. And fear of the unknown was a powerful thing.

“What have you there?” she asked, nodding at Isabel’s hands.

“We’ll visit that in a moment. I spoke with Tom this morning as we broke fast. He tells me that he sees no reason why you are not up and about by now.”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Probably none. But the day-to-day running of Camelot is your business. And your servants are feeling lost without your steadying presence. They are concerned and confused. They need you, Gwen.”

“You know this how?”

“During our daily recesses I hear things.”

Gwen sat up further in her bed. “You have continued with the recesses without my consent?”

“You were in no shape to give consent.”

“Does Arthur know about this?”

“He does. He has no objections. But the point is, your people miss you, Gwen. It would do them a world of good to see you up and about.”

“Why has Arthur not voiced this opinion?”

“Because he is concerned for your health. He is not a healer. He doesn’t know that, for whatever reason, you are staying abed long after you have needed to do so.”

“But you do.”

“Well, Tom does.”

“My chest is still quite sore, and I hear I have you to thank for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I did not mean that in a nice way.”

“I knew that. I recognize sarcasm when I hear it.”

Gwen knew she was being petty. In fact, she was aware that if not for this woman’s ministrations, she might not have survived. She lowered her eyes. “I am so sorry. That was mean.”

“No apologies necessary. I understand that illness tends to make people not themselves. You are a very nice woman, Gwen, with a big heart. I . . . we . . . that is Tom does not understand why you are not itching to get out of that bed and get back to the business of being queen.”

“Why does this matter to you?”

“Because I hate to see your servants worry. They feel adrift without their queen’s guiding hand.”

“I will consider what you say. However, I would like to hear the same from Arthur’s lips.”

“Arthur is not going to demand that you get up. He also has his hands full preparing for the meeting of the knights. But he could certainly use your help in that matter.”

Gwen nodded. “I see.”

“There is also the matter of the wedding between James and Mary. Plans to be made. A menu to prepare. Tell me, is there nothing more fun than helping a bride to prepare for the most important day of her life?”

“’Tis a lot of fun,” Gwen said.

“It sure is. Do you really want to miss out on that?”

Gwen cocked her head. “Tell me, Countess, why you have never married.”

“I’m very picky.”

“Does that mean you do not ever want to be wed?”

Isabel seemed to hesitate. “I don’t rule anything out. Perhaps. Someday.”

“Just waiting for the right man?”

“Something like that.”

“All right, Countess, you have made your point and I have much to mull over. Now please tell me what is in your hands.”

Isabel held up the black garment. “Your breeches.”

Gwen nearly choked. “Breeches?”

“Yes, remember, right before you became ill, you had the seamstresses busy making breeches for the women?”

Gwen frowned. “Yes, yes, I have a vague memory of that.”

“Well, these were made for you, in case you decide to join us at recess.”

Rubbing her temples, Gwen asked, “Remind me again why we decided breeches for women was a good idea.”

“So that they have more freedom during their morning recess. They do not have to worry about displaying more of their legs or worse while they play.”

“Do you wear these breeches?”

Isabel grinned and lifted her skirts. Yes, indeed, she was sporting a pair of these things. She laid the pants at the foot of Gwen’s bed. “We will be gathering in the bailey in a short while, should you decide to join us.” She nodded her head and moved to leave.

“Isabel?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“May I ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Can you find Jenny and let her know I have need of her services?”

Isabel smiled. “Gladly. Welcome back, Gwen.”

“Thank you.”

“SO?” Mary asked as the women gathered round.

Isabel shrugged. “We shall see.”

“Whate’er,” Madeline, one of the cooks said. “We thank you for trying.”

“Thank me if it works.”

“What are we doing today, mum?”

“We are playing a thing called baseball. Well, a Camelot version of baseball,” she amended.

As she went to place the four small rushes around the yard, she explained, “We will divide into two teams. The teams take turns being the ones trying to score points and the ones trying to keep the other team from scoring points.

“The team trying to score points will send one player at a time to here,” she said, dropping one of the rushes on the ground. “This is called home base. The player will toss a rock as far as she wants, but try to keep it from heading straight to a member of the other team, who will be scattered around the other bases, trying to defend—”

“Mum!” Mary squealed, then nodded her head toward the far side of the bailey. “The queen. She is coming.”

Sure enough, Gwen came running over, holding up her skirts just enough that Isabel caught a glimpse of black beneath them.

Everyone in the bailey seemed to freeze as they watched their queen join the ladies.

They all curtsied and remained in that position, heads down.

“Please rise,” Gwen said. “We have games to play. So what have I missed?”

JAMES came rushing into Arthur’s working study without knocking. Arthur was about to chastise him for the unannounced interruption, but the look on his man’s face stopped him. “What is it?”

“Sir, you must come see this.”

“What?”

“I cannot explain. Well, I might try, but trust me, you will want to witness for yourself.”

Arthur rose quickly and followed James out the door and through the great hall and out into the bailey.

He stopped short as he watched one young girl running around in a circle while others around her tossed a stone to one another and tried to chase the girl down.

There were squeals of delight and clapping and cheering. It appeared to be some sort of game Arthur had ne’er before seen.

His eyes sought out Isabel, because as certain as he was breathing was he that this was her doing. She was clapping, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Try for third, Sarah! You can make it!”

The running girl, who was also laughing with glee, touched her foot on a mat of sorts and then kept on running as the stone was thrown all about. “What in blazes are they doing, James?”

“’Tis a game the countess calls Camelot baseball.”

“Camelot baseball,” Arthur repeated.

Over the last several days, he had watched as Isabel had engaged the servants in increasingly stranger and stranger play. This one, by far, was the strangest.

And yet the ladies appeared to be having such fun. “You were right, James, you could not have described this to me. It is too priceless not to see it for myself.”

Without taking his eyes from the bizarre scene before him, he asked, “Is it true that our men seem to be happy with this playtime arrangement?”

“Oh, indeed, sir. They report that their wives and sweethearts seem to be in much happier moods, that they seem to have an extra skip to their steps.”

“Do you see this in Mary?”

“My Mary has always had a skip to her step, but yea, I see her joy and excitement when she tells me of her day. She also reports that productivity in the kitchens, in the laundering rooms and in the sewing room has risen, as the women get back to work with a newfound vigor. I would report, sir, that this recess time appears to be a great success.”

“Leave it to Isabel,” Arthur said, smiling slightly. “She seems to infuse enthusiasm wherever she goes with her creativity.”

He almost laughed out loud at the understatement. As much as he woke each morning, excited to get to work, to start a new day afresh, he also could not wait for night to fall, so that he could join Isabel in her quarters. And ’twas not just the lovemaking that he treasured, but also the times when they lay in each other’s arms, speaking quietly of their days. He found himself more and more seeking her counsel on matters important to him. She was an avid listener, with a quick mind, grasping concepts he was certain she had never needed to confront or consider in the peaceful lands of Dumont.

Her ideas were as inspired as they were—what was that word she used? Oh, yes. Quirky. She often prefaced a sentence with, “This might sound quirky, but hear me out ...”

More often than not, her thoughts made him laugh, but then the more he pondered, the more he would see the merit in them. Or at least slight variations. But they always, always provoked thought.

He loved that so much about her. He also loved her passion in bed sport. One touch from him in just the right place and she would immediately turn into the eager lover. He craved the moment he would get her naked, save for that blue necklace, which as far as he knew, she never, ever took off.

Her skin, so soft and creamy—

He realized suddenly that James had said something and he had not heard.

“I am sorry, what?”

“I said do you see, sir, anyone else familiar amongst the women?”

Arthur peered closer at all the others. Most were familiar, of course. He had too many servants to count, but he made it a mission to know as many by name as possible. To his way of thinking, they deserved that much, if not more, from their king, who they served so faithfully and with little complaint.

“I see many familiar faces, James. Anyone in particular you would like me to notice?”

“Look at the one in the pale yellow gown. The one chasing Mary at the moment.”

Arthur glanced at the woman. And froze. The long auburn hair, the slight figure. “Gwen?”

“Indeed, my king. The queen has arisen from her sickbed.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” Arthur said, his voice low.

But her obvious good health was a bit too suspiciously miraculous. As he did every morning afore he headed off to exercises, this morn he had stopped by to inquire of her health. Just as the mornings before, she had appeared pale and fragile and acted as if she felt too weak to rise up and dress and go about her duties as queen. Although, as was the case day in and day out, she made attempts to lure him into her bed with her.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask his revulsion at the thought. When had all attraction for his wife dried to nothing but a pile of dust? He knew not. He could not lay it all on Isabel’s door, as he had already begun to lose interest before Isabel’s arrival. The hurt had remained, but the desire had waned before. Because as sure as he knew his own name, he knew that if he had still been passionate about Gwen, he would not have given Isabel a second glance. He was a one-woman man that way, always had been. Once his heart was engaged, he had eyes for no woman save the one who held his love and desire in her hands.

He shook his head.

On the one hand, he was relieved that Gwen had regained her good health. However, knowing she was bedridden had given him the freedom to move about as he pleased. Now that she was back on her feet, he knew that his movements would be watched much more carefully by his wife. ’Twas a conundrum. He would need to discuss it with Isabel later.

“Well, it is good to see she is better,” he said. Then he looked closer. “Ye gads. She is also wearing those black leggings things that the others wear during sport.”

“Mary told me this morn that Isabel was determined to lure Gwen up out of her bed and hoped that the leggings would entice her to rise up and join the staff for the recess time.”

“Hmm, I wonder why?” he mumbled, not realizing he’d actually spoken aloud until James answered him.

“It seems that the servants met and discussed the problems with their queen. Since Isabel is the one that they have been turning to to find answers for questions that arose around the castle, they believed perhaps Isabel would be the logical choice to approach the queen.”

“Isabel has been handling some of Gwen’s duties?” Arthur asked.

“You have not noticed?”

“I must be blind,” Arthur said, wanting to kick himself in the ass. “No, I did not notice, and Isabel has made not a single complaint at being forced to take over tasks that are not her concern. She is a guest at this castle, for Thor’s sake.”

“I do not notice the countess complaining about much,” James offered. “Save perhaps whatever happened betwixt the two of you, nights ago.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Do you know what a major fault of mine is, James?”

“No, King Arthur, I know of none.”

“That I allow my most trusted men to speak their minds.”

James roared with laughter. “My apologies,” he said. “For speaking out of turn.”

Arthur looked at him. “You appear not one whit sorry.”

“I will work on my contrite expression.”

Arthur clapped James on the back. “You do that. ’Twill probably take years of practice.”

With one last glance toward the women, lingering longest, of course, on the one with long blond hair who was now being chased down by several of the servants, Arthur turned and headed back to his study, James’s laughter still ringing in his ears. Yes, indeed, he and Isabel had much to discuss this evening. Should he be able to get her alone.

The thought that he might fail in that endeavor was truly depressing.

THERE was a time when Gwen would have thought nothing of entering Arthur’s study without announcing herself, but she was acutely aware that many things had changed between them. So even though his door was open, she knocked. He glanced up from a scroll he was studying intently. The parchment appeared to be a detailed drawing of a map.

He rolled it up, set it aside and stood. “Gwen,” he said, gesturing her in, “it is good to see you up and about. I trust you are feeling better.”

“Very much, Arthur, thank you.”

He waved her into a chair, waiting for her to be seated before he returned to his own seat. “What, do you suppose, helped . . . cure you of your ailments?”

“I am certain the countess has already informed you of our chat.”

“Actually, no. I have not spoken with Isabel at all since breaking fast.”

“Oh.”

“Why, what has she to do with your recovery?”

Truth was truly Gwen’s only choice. Arthur could always tell when Gwen was hiding something from him. He had known, almost immediately, about Lance. Oh, not that she and Lance had become . . . intimately involved, but he had known there was something amiss. “She came to see me in our . . . in my chambers this morning. We had a talk.”

“Talking cured you, then? We must bottle this and sell it to our healers.”

“Please, Arthur, do not make this harder than it is.”

He nodded. “My apologies. That was uncalled for. Do you wish to share what transpired?”

“She . . . made me very aware that I was letting you down. I was letting Camelot and its people down by shirking my duties.”

“Do you feel she overstepped her bounds?”

“Yes. I mean no.” She shook her head. “She appears to be the only one brave enough to tell me some truths I needed to hear.”

Arthur peered at her. “I could swear there is a veiled insult toward me in there somewhere, but as you have just recovered from a nasty poisoning, I will overlook it.”

“No, no, ’twas not meant as one at all. You are trusting, Arthur. If I tell you I am still not feeling well, you will accept it to be so.”

“Why the ruse, Gwen? What was there to gain?”

She stared down at her hands. “Perhaps to gain your attention.”

“You did not have to feign illness, Gwen. You have but to ask.”

“I am asking.”

“And at this moment,” he said, rising and moving to the door, closing it, “you have my undivided attention.” He returned to his desk and sat. “What is on your mind?”

“You have been a wonderful husband, Arthur. Loving and attentive, patient as I learned the ways of the crown. You have been nothing but good to me.”

“I am very glad you think so.”

“And I repaid that with a betrayal that I regret deeply. If I were able to turn back time—”

“’Twould have changed nothing. It was fate that you and Lance fall in love. I could no more prevent that from happening than I can prevent rain or snow.”

“We could—”

“No,” he interrupted, “we cannot. You are still in love with Lance, as he is with you. Desperately so, as a matter of fact. Should you deny that now I will lose what little respect I have left for you. Not to mention I will never forgive you should you shatter Lance’s heart. I do not blame him. I blame you not, either.” He raised his hands and shrugged. “It just happened, Gwen. But that young man means a great deal to me, and I will look very poorly upon anyone who would harm him in any way.”

“So you still care about him but not your wife?”

“Gwen, if I did not care, you would be answering to a charge of treason right now. As I have said to you, too many times to count, I do not care what you and Lance do. I care only that you not be caught by any person who would have no trouble accusing you of crimes against the king. Right now there is no legal remedy here in Camelot for the predicament we find ourselves in. Although I am looking very seriously into a system they have in Dumont, where they may call for dissolution of marriage where neither man nor wife must admit to blame. I believe Countess Isabel calls it ‘no-fault dissolution.’ ”

“You have discussed the intimate details of our situation with the countess?”

“I admit that I have.”

“How dare you?”

“I dare, Guinevere, because I trust her. I trust her thoughts and opinions.”

She covered her flaming cheeks. “I am so . . . mortified that you shared something so personal with a virtual stranger.”

“She is no stranger. Whilst you were lying in bed, feigning illness, she has become a friend and colleague.”

Gwen stared at him and the truth cut deeply. “You have fallen in love with her.”

He hesitated only a moment before nodding. “That, yes, is true.”

“Does she realize?”

“I have a fair feeling that she is well aware, yes.”

“Does she . . . return your feelings for her?”

“I desperately hope that she does.”

“How dare you . . . shame me like this? How dare she come as a welcome guest only to—”

He pounded a fist on his desk, and the fire in his eyes had her shrinking back in her chair. “I dare you to finish that thought, Gwen. I dare you to logically finish that thought.”

She kept silent as he leaned forward, drilling her with his gaze. “What happened with Isabel was not planned or expected. Just as with you and Lance, it was fated to be. Would I change it if I could, as you seem to want to dismiss history? Not one chance in Hades. Other than that pesky problem that I am not free to ask her to marry me, I would not change a single thing.”

In the past, tears had always melted Arthur’s heart. Gwen knew they no longer had the power to move him. At least not her own tears. I will not cry. I will not cry.

“If not for what happened with Lance ...”

“But it did.”

“But if it did not?”

“Isabel would merely be another royal guest. Is that what you want to hear? That I would ne’er have betrayed my vows? If so, you would be right. I would most likely have looked upon her as another fresh mind to add to the mix of those who will gather here to meet and exchange ideas. But I already knew, Gwen. I already had my heart broken by you. When I saw her, I recognized that I had gotten over the heartbreak. And I felt free to want another.”

“I see.”

“I have no desire to hurt you, Gwen. This is not some kind of revenge. Had you not asked, I would not have said a word, as it is no one’s business but mine and Isabel’s. But you asked. And as you know, I value truth. And you deserve as much.”

She took a breath and squared her shoulders. “I realize my next question will sound selfish and self-serving, Arthur, but I must ask. Should there come a time when we are able to accomplish this no-fault, what will happen to me? What will happen to Lance?”

“You two will be free to marry.”

“But where? And how?”

“I have thought of this. If Lancelot prefers to stay in Briton, rather than return to his homeland, then I will lease land to the two of you, over which you will preside as leaders of whate’er you call it. You may start a new life together.”

She swallowed, hard. “But—”

“I anticipate your next question and will not allow you to humiliate yourself by forcing you to ask. I will take care of you for the rest of your days, Gwen. I will not leave you destitute. You will always be kept in comfort. That portion of my promises to you I will keep. I have no wish to see you struggle.”

“Lance will not allow us to be on your dole, Arthur.”

“Should he stay as a soldier at Camelot, he will be recompensed well. He is, after all, one of my finest and most loyal.” His smile was sadly cynical. “On the battlefield.”

“He loves you as a father, Arthur. It tears him up inside.”

“You may or may not take this as true, Gwen, but I believe that with everything in me. Did I not believe it, he would no longer be drawing breath.”

Gwen rose on shaky legs. “Believe this, Arthur. I also love you.”

“I believe that as well.”

“For then I would also not be drawing breath.”

“There is no chance I would have you harmed, Gwen. I cannot say as much for those so loyal that they would seek vengeance for their king.”

She shuddered. “All right, Arthur, so what now? How do we go forward from this moment?”

“You are queen. As such, you will attend to the duties asked of you in that capacity. To all around, nothing has changed.”

“Yes.”

“You have always been an excellent queen, Gwen. Do not begin to fake it now.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Discretion, Gwen. Discretion.”

“Yes.”

“And, please, no more experiments with new foods. I truly do not want a repeat of the mushrooms. Most importantly, do not ever attempt to try them in foods being served to all.”

“I will not.”

Arthur stood. “One last thought, Gwen, that I must insist you carry with you at all times.”

“Yes?”

“Isabel saved your life. But not for her quick ministrations, we would not be having this conversation.”

“I am aware.”

“Whether you believe it or nay, she does truly care about you. She sympathizes with all of the twisted emotions swirling around us all. Should anything untoward happen to her, should I even see an unexplained scratch upon her person, you will see wrath as you have ne’er even imagined.”

Finally the tears Gwen had been trying so desperately to blink back came to surface. “She saved my life once days ago, Arthur. She came to me this morn to attempt to save it once again. This I will ne’er forget.”

“I hope you do not. As strange as this might sound to you, she would make an excellent friend and ally.”

“And as strange as this may sound, Arthur, I would so very much like to make her both.”

He nodded, walking her to the door. “You will not be sorry.”

“I will not let on that I know of this love betwixt you.”

“No need to. I shall tell her this evening. As you should tell Lance.”

She nodded, then squeezed the back of his hand. “This time I shall not disappoint you.”

She started to leave and then turned back. “Do any of the servants know?”

“Why ask you this?”

“So I am fully aware of who I may speak frankly in front of.”

“James and Mary. They know. At least, I am presuming so.” His lips tipped up in a slight grin. “They intervened in a rather amusing way when Isabel and I had a slight misunderstanding.”

She nodded, although she could not believe all that had transpired as she lounged in her bed. “I am thinking it would make a good tale one day.”

“It would indeed.”

She waved toward his desk. “I will leave you to your planning. And I thank you, Arthur, for your honesty and your . . . compassion.”

“And I thank you, as well, for your honesty this day. I wish you happiness, Gwen. I truly do.”

“I know. I wish the same for you.”

ARTHUR closed the door behind Gwen, because privacy was something he craved as he pondered all that had just been said.

“I will take ‘The Most Happy Man in Camelot at This Moment’ for a thousand, Alex,” he whispered.

“Who is King Arthur?” he answered himself. “Correct!”

He shook his head, smiling, as he unrolled the parchment. “Isabel, my love, you have most certainly made me batty.”