Goddess of Legend (35 page)

She looked into Mordred’s green eyes, so like his father’s. “I believe that your son loves you. He would be proud to be part of the offensive against those who would harm you. Am I wrong, Mordred?”

“No, Countess. I would protect my father and his lands against all invaders. I know that I said otherwise afore, but ’twas only because I . . .”

“Wanted to hurt him, as you had believed all of your life that he had hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“And you now realize that isn’t at all true.”

“Yes. I am so sorry, Father.”

“Please believe in me, Son.”

“I do, father.”

“I believe him. Okay, please round up about ten men who know those trails better than any other. Then go to the baking kitchen and gather the food and drink, and meet me back here in the great hall. There is one other part to this plan the men will probably not like so much. But it could well give you more protection, should you encounter any of these marauders.”

“Yes.” He turned toward the doors.

“Mordred.”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“You are your father’s son. No wonder he loves you as much as he does.”

Mordred blinked. “I consider that the highest praise I have e’er heard. After all I have said and done—”

“You make up for it in this one great and important deed.”

“Thank you, Countess. Father.”

“And, Mordred. Do not, and I mean it, do
not
allow any of the men to give in to temptation and eat or drink your weapons. They are poison, pure and simple.”

“Yes.” He turned and broke into a run.

Arthur stared at her for a moment. “Would that I had the time to make love to you this very moment.”

“Time for that after.”

“I hope with all my heart that is true. There is no way I am going to change your mind about leaving, is there?”

“What is, Not a single chance in hell, Alex.”

“What happened to your hair, Isabel?”

“It happily sacrificed itself for the cause.”

He laid his forehead against hers. “I ne’er knew it was possible to love this desperately.”

“And if you don’t get back out there and continue planning, you won’t know it for long.”

“Yes, you are right,” he said. He kissed her fiercely, right there in the great hall, for any or all to see. And she was still barefoot in her nightgown.

“Isabel?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“With all that I am and all that I have, to thee I vow.”

“Premature, but so very wonderful to hear. Now go. I have work to do.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You love me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And that is the knowledge and fortification I need to fight the battle of my life.”

“No more scars, Arthur. Not a single scratch.”

“I will do my best to honor that wish.”

“It was not a wish. It was a demand.”

“Yes, Countess,” he said, grinning. “And I cannot wait to be forever at your demand.”

She laughed. “Go, smartass.”

“One more demand I will honor.”

He kissed her one more time, then turned and strode out the door. Oh, how she wished he wasn’t already wearing his armor, so she could get one more chance to ogle that incredible butt.

“I love you,” he called over his shoulder.

One of his men who had just entered stopped short.

“Not you, Ashton. Her,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

The boy gaped at her.

“Ashton! Come.”

Isabel laughed as she picked up her nightgown and ran up the front stairway, two steps at a time.

AMAZINGLY, by the time she returned to her chamber, Mary, Gwen and Jenny were already waiting for her.

“What now, Isabel?” Gwen asked.

It amazed her that Gwen had so quickly handed over the decision making to her. But then again, Gwen was so young and probably had never encountered war in her life. Unfortunately, Isabel had.

“Gwen, I need you and Jenny to gather the women and tell them all to don their breeches. Skirts are of no help. And then tell them to arm themselves. I don’t care with what. Anything hard and capable of being thrown—”

“As in Camelot baseball?”

“Exactly, but they will need larger rocks than the small stones we used. Or hard tree limbs, swords if they happen to have access to any, anything that could be used as a weapon. Those with strong arms we will station in places where they can knock a man off his horse. Others with weapons such as swords or tree limbs we will place where they can whack the hell out of anyone who comes in reach.”

“Women do not engage in battle, Isabel,” Gwen said.

Isabel plopped her hands on her hips. “What, you wait for your men to die in battle, and then allow the enemy to do with you what they will? In my land, women fight. We might do it differently than men, but we do not stand by and await the outcome. Do you want to help thwart the enemy, Gwen, or do you want to cower in your chambers and hope for the best?”

“We fight,” Jenny said, with a ferocity that was endearing.

“Good. Then go gather the women and tell them to dress and arm themselves appropriately. We will meet in the round-table hall and plan our strategy in, say, a half an hour or so.”

She looked at Gwen. “Buck up, Queen Guinevere. Camelot is your land as well. Do you fight for this castle, or not?”

Gwen nodded. “Let us go do as she asks, Jenny.”

Jenny left at a run. Gwen, not so quickly.

“The queen is a . . . a . . . What is the proper word, Isabel?” Mary asked, as her hands worked feverishly braiding hair.

“I think the word you’re looking for is a wimp.”

“Oh, that is a perfect word. Yes, a wimp.”

“But we must give her a break. This is all unfamiliar and scary.”

Mary looked up from her task. “It is not familiar to you, either, I am guessing. And yet you acted.”

Isabel shrugged as she pulled off her nightgown and started to dress. “I cannot stand by and do nothing.”

“The king wanted you to leave. Why did you not?”

“How did you know that?”

“Oh, I have excellent hearing. People may whisper two or more rooms away and I will hear every word. ’Tis a gift and a curse, in some cases.”

“You are a wonder, Mary. What is not a wonder to me is why James loves you so much. And you, him.”

“And why the king loves you,” Mary said.

“You . . . overheard something?”

“Oh, please, Isabel. James and I were aware from the moment you arrived. It did not take overhearing to figure that much out. It was apparent by the way your . . . bodies interacted.”

Isabel laughed as she pulled on her breeches. “In my land, Mary, we call that body language. I didn’t know we were that apparent.”

“’Twas apparent to us. But we said not a word to anyone, Isabel. This I swear.”

“If there is anything I believe, Mary, it is that. I am a good judge of character, and I knew the moment we met that you are such a good person.”

“Then I, too, am a good judge of character,” Mary said. “Wear the deep green dress, Isabel. It is the least heavy of the lot and much more easy for you to move around in. And you will more easily blend in with the foliage. Twill not stand out as some of your brighter clothing might. We do not want a target on your back.”

Isabel laughed. “You are a treasure beyond measure, Mary.”

“I am so glad you think so.” Mary looked up from her task. “I love you, Countess Isabel.”

“As I do you, Mary,” Isabel said, her throat choked with emotion. “This should be no way for any woman to spend her first full day of marriage to her true love.”

“If he is to battle this day, it is the only way to spend it. I believe I should like more nights with the big goof.”

Isabel laughed again as she managed to lace up her dress on her own. And, of course, Mary had been right. It was the least complicated dress she had, and the easiest to maneuver in. “I cannot blame that logic one bit. I hope your night was all that you dreamed.”

“Oh, and more. Much more. That was one big pickle, Isabel.”

Isabel almost collapsed. “Mary, you must stop making me laugh so hard.” Then she stopped. “I hope he didn’t hurt you.”

“Oh, no, he was ever so gentle. The king gave him tips on ways to make certain he would not.”

“James told you this?”

Mary just shook her head and then tapped her ear. “It appears that James was more nervous than I, last evening. The king attempted to calm him down.”

Oh, Arthur. Could she love a man more? “Your vow exchange was beautiful. As were you. I don’t blame James for being nervous.”

“Well, ’twould seem that the advice King Arthur gave him worked, and worked well. I admit I did not ken much of what he said, but I much appreciate whate’er it was.”

She stood up. “Done. I have thirty and two braids. Is that enough?”

“More than. Where did you get all of the hair, Mary?”

“I can be quite convincing when I have the need to be. Now what are we to do with them?”

“I have need of more of your hair skills, Mary. And I very much hope your convincing skills work, because I believe we are going to encounter protests like you have never encountered before.”

Mary gathered up the braided hair. “Bring it on, mistress.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ARTHUR could not believe his eyes. He stared at all of the women gathered around his round table, Isabel standing as she scratched out things upon a piece of parchment, then pointing at one and then another, and handing out what sounded very close to assignments for a battle plan.

“What goes on here?” he asked.

Isabel glanced up while most of the women, all those but Gwen, scrambled to their feet.

“Oh, sit down already,” he said. “Isabel, what is this?”

“This is the round table,” she said calmly, straightening. “We are planning strategy. Is that not what this table was created for?”

“For, for . . .” Oh, gods, ’twas a waste of time to argue with the woman. “Planning what strategy? First you have Mary force braids upon men’s heads, and now you involve women in this fight? What will you not do, Isabel?”

“Allow any to win in their attempt to overtake Camelot. I might be mistaken, but I believe that’s the goal for this day.”

“And you feel it all right to involve the women?”

Isabel looked around the packed table. “Any of you who feel unwilling to join in, raise your hands. If you are at this table against your will, speak up now. You will not be punished, and you are free to go right now.”

Not a single hand lifted, not even Gwen’s.

“I will not allow—”

“You have no choice. Guinevere—last I heard, the Queen of Camelot—has decreed that we may help in this endeavor.”

His outrage almost overruled his admiration. “This is war. This is a man’s battle.”

“This is a battle to preserve Camelot,” Isabel said. “It is up to all of us to join in.”

“You are of Dumont. You are not of Camelot. You have not authority to—”

One by one he watched as every woman at the table stood up again, this time including Gwen. And by the belligerent countenances, he was certainly aware it was not out of respect for their king. Truth be told, the allegiances had most assuredly switched to the woman from Dumont.

“I give her the authority, Arthur,” Gwen said, even as she shook a little. “We are joining in, in our own ways. Every one of us at this table has a man who is heading into harm’s way. We are doing our part, whether you agree or not. Isabel has plans. We are not going to do a single thing to interfere, only to, mayhap, intervene where we are able. Now go back to your plans, and leave us to ours.”

And then, to his utter amazement, the women all began holding up hands, slapping them against one another and saying what he believed to be, “High five.”

Too many things to take in. The most stunning was that this was the very first time Gwen had stood up and countermanded his wishes. She had, while he was not paying attention, grown a backbone. Then again, when she declared that all of the women had a dog in this fight, or a man, as it were, he knew for a certainty she was thinking of Lance, not of him. And he did not care a fig. He cared that the man Isabel was defiantly fighting for was he.

Second, that the women servants were truly and utterly defying him.

And worst of all, that Isabel not only joined in this fight to help save his lands, she had managed to form an army of females to follow her into battle for them.

He knew when he was out-womaned. “Fine,” he said. “You do as you see fit. But, Isabel, if your plans involve bringing any woman into the battlefield—”

“They do not,” she said. “I vow we are doing this in a way that women do best. We are smarter and sneakier than men. Not a woman will be harmed in this fight. I swear. And if we are successful, no men, either. Is that not the goal?”