King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (14 page)

Ywain shook his head. “It can’t be done. No one can hold peace like that in the land. Not even Uther Pendragon.”

“It has been my experience that no one can achieve a task unless they try first,” Britt smiled. “Have many others tried?”

Ywain looked away briefly. “If that’s your possible dream, what’s your impossible one?” he asked eventually.

Britt lost her smile and looked down at Excalibur. “It’s not worth dwelling on.”

“What are you going to do with me? Try to get me to talk about my father’s plans? I won’t say a word. Not ever!” Ywain angrily said after a few moments of silence.

“I agree,” Britt said. “And I don’t really know what we’re going to do with you, but we won’t kill you.”

“Not yet,” Ywain bitterly said.

“Not at all,” Britt corrected.

Ywain looked unconvinced and shuffled around the stake he was tied to until his back was to Britt.

Britt conversed frequently with Ywain over her three day deadline. She gradually pulled and nudged a few details out of the young man, like the fact that his sister had a wonderful singing voice, and he had a beautiful hunting hawk. Britt learned to bring water and basic provisions as Ywain was given undesirable food, if any. Suspicious that her men might be mistreating the young prisoner, Britt even visited Ywain during her nightly pacing.

“Have you come to kill me in my sleep?” Ywain said, spotting Britt’s shape among the tents.

“Hardly,” Britt chuckled as she slipped out of her hiding spot and approached the prisoner. “I thought you would be asleep.”

Ywain looked sharply away from Britt, but not so fast Britt didn’t see the fear in his eyes. He was afraid to fall asleep.

Britt sighed and sat on the ground. “At Camelot my dog as well as my guards shadow me when I cannot sleep,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder where the armor of three knights’ gleamed in the moonlight. “Tonight you’ll have to pinch hit for Cavall.”

“I’ll what?” Ywain suspiciously asked.

“Ahh, you will be a substitute for my dog,” Britt said, pulling a wooden carving of Cavall that Sir Bodwain had given her. “He is a wonderful listener.”

Ywain grumbled under his breath, but he fell still when Britt started talking. “He is as big as a lion.”

“You’ve seen a lion?”

“I have. They’re beautiful cats, the size of a bear hunting dog or more. A male lion’s mane is beautiful. It flows around his head like, like a halo I suppose. Personally I think the females are prettier. No one values the beauty of a female animal enough. Everyone always says the male is more beautiful,” Britt complained. “Society should follow the example of the male seahorse—which carries its young in a pouch before they hatch. Or something like that. It’s been ages since I saw the Animal Planet special about them. What do you think?”

Britt waited for a response, but there was only silence.

“Ywain?” Britt asked, rolling into a standing position before tip toeing to the young man.

He was fast sleep.

Britt smiled and moved to leave the area, but Ywain snorted awake. “Arthur?”

Britt plopped down next to a fire some feet away from Ywain and returned to studying her carving of Cavall. “This society treats women like crap. That’s the first thing my knights will have to right. Under my rule a knight will have no right to hold a girl against her will.”

“I thought you were talking about lions.”

“We were, but then I was enraged by thinking about how no one admires the beauty of a female lion, which made me think about the girls of this age. How many of them are married against their will? I have no hope of forcing women’s rights—this time period doesn’t even have rights for the common man—but I will at least teach my men to treat women with respect!” Britt rattled as Ywain drifted off to sleep.

By the morning of the last day Britt had to convince Ywain she had no idea how she would persuade the prince to join her, and she told Merlin as much.

“What do you mean?” Merlin frowned. “You almost have him.”

“I don’t. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I feel more like his mother caring for him than I feel like a king winning a subject,” Britt sighed.

“Sometimes, Britt, the most difficult task in being a king is to know when your subject needs you to set the crown aside. He’s a young boy and he’s a dreamer. He’s not difficult to understand. Test him today, and I think you’ll be surprised with the results,” Merlin said.

“Test?” Britt asked, tilting her head as she thought.

“Yes. Test. Now go away, King Ban and King Bors are coming to discuss tactics and if they realize I’m not hiding you in the forest with them tomorrow they’re going to throw a fit.”

Britt thoughtfully left Merlin’s tent and approached Roen—who was tacked and waiting for her. Britt hefted herself onto his back, nodded to her babysitter of the day—Sir Bedivere—and headed off to Ywain.

“Stand up, Ywain.” Britt said, momentarily sliding off Roen. Ywain curiously did so, his eyes growing wide when Britt pulled a dagger. “Relax,” she chuckled, before cutting to the rope that connected him to the stake. “Come on,” she ordered, again mounting Roen—towing Ywain with by his rope.

They walked through the camp, garnering a couple dozen bows and murmured, “My Lord” s.

Ywain looked increasingly nervous as they left the camp altogether and rode into the forest. When they were perhaps a mile from camp, Britt finally stopped.
              “Here we go. You’re free, Ywain,” Britt said, dismounting Roen before she cut the rope binding Ywain’s wrists.

“I’m what?” Ywain said, his jaw going slack.

“You’re free to go. You are no longer my prisoner.”

“W-what about King Ban?”

“He will be disappointed, but I’m sure he’ll make it somehow,” Britt wryly chuckled, glancing at Sir Bedivere.

The swarthy knight was watching the exchange, but he did not seem disbelieving or angered, which surprised Britt.

“You can’t just mean to let me go. I know where your camp is! I know strategic information,” Ywain insisted.

Britt remounted Roen to hide her grimace. She hadn’t thought of that. She figured if Ywain ran back to his daddy all she would lose out on was a prisoner. So much for that idea. “Perhaps,” Britt agreed before wheeling Roen in the direction of camp. “But I genuinely like you, Ywain. I have no wish to see you muddled in this war between your father and I. Take care, maybe we’ll meet again,” Britt said, glancing at Sir Bedivere.

Sir Bedivere moved his horse like Britt, he did not seem inclined to turn around and snatch up Ywain. (Which was somewhat unfortunate.)

Ywain sputtered behind them for a few moments as Britt cued Roen into a walk. “My King!” Ywain finally shouted.

Britt halted her horse and twisted in her saddle. “Yes?”

“Did you really mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“Everything you said about your knights. How you want them to ride around and do good deeds, not fight in wars? How you want females to be protected?”

“Yes, I meant every last word,” Britt said, some of her blond hair falling over her shoulder in a golden curtain.

“Why? You’re a good swordsman. Maybe the best. You don’t have to be nice to everyone, you could rule through sheer strength.”

Britt scratched her ear. “I don’t want a kingdom like that. I want chivalry and honor.”

Ywain ran through the undergrowth, startling Roen and Sir Bedivere’s mount when he skid to a stop in front of them.

“Then please, let me serve you, My Lord!” Ywain said, kneeling before Britt, looking at the ground.

Britt’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Ywain, do you understand what you’re saying?” she hesitantly asked.

“I know I am the son               of Urien, and I still love him, but please, King Arthur, please let me serve you!” Ywain cried, looking up at Britt.

Britt stared at the teenager in great perplexity. She turned to look at Sir Bedivere, hoping for direction or advice. Sir Bedivere nodded once in approval, as if this was the outcome he expected all along.

“He either has too much faith in my abilities or he is startlingly smart like Merlin,” Britt muttered to herself as Roen swished his tail. “I do not mean to doubt you, Ywain, but how can you possibly still love your father and support me?”

“I love my father because he raised me. He is my mentor and parent. But you, My Lord I love as my King. My loyalty and body belong to you,” Ywain said.

“You would see me spare your father?” Britt asked.

Ywain hesitated, clearly torn, and Britt smiled. “I will do it, if it is in my power.”

“But… why? My King?” Ywain asked.

“I am not in the business of killing the fathers of my friends. Additionally, starting a kingdom such as the one I want on stains of blood is not a wise route,” Britt said.

“My King, I do not deserve your grace, but I wish to be a part of your kingdom,” Ywain said, again bowing his head.

Britt hesitated as she internally reviewed every book she had ever read that involved accepting fealty. Unfortunately her favorite authors, like Jane Austen, had very little to say on the matter. She would have to rely on Hollywood.

“A Jedi gains power through understanding and a Sith gains understanding through power,” Britt said.

Ywain blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Forget it. I’ll wing it. Ywain, I am honored by your declaration of fealty. I will do my best to see that I do not fail in pursuit of a just and honorable kingdom. In return I ask that you would ride with me and be my sword and my shield and strike when I cannot. I will be your king, your friend, and your brother if you will be my knight, my guard, and my justice.”

Britt was surprised to see Ywain actually blink back tears. She whipped to face Sir Bedivere, who also looked touched. Britt frowned, more than a little confused, but Ywain said. “I will, my King, My Lord, and my liege. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Britt opened her mouth but was unable to find anything to say. It was just as well as Merlin sprouted out of the underbrush as if he were a plant. “Marvelous,” he said, joyously clapping. “Well played! Welcome, young Ywain, to King Arthur’s court!” he said, pounding the young man on the back.

Ywain coughed under the smack but grinned and sheepishly reached up to rub the top of his head as Merlin continued.

“You have won a staunch and passionate knight, Arthur. I have foreseen it! Ywain is destined for great things.”

“Really?” Ywain asked, clearly delighted.

Merlin nodded gravely. “It is for certain. Now, let us return to camp and tell the great news to our comrades in arms!”

Sir Bedivere nodded and dismounted his horse so he could walk next to Ywain. “Welcome, Ywain,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ywain beamed before the smile fell off his face and he started talking. “I don’t know many of my father’s plans, but I
do
know their rough numbers. They intend to push Arthur’s army all the way back to Camelot where they will lay siege on the castle as they think Merlin will hide our King during the fighting,” he said as a rush of words fell from his mouth in a mad waterfall, spilling every secret of King Lot’s army that he knew.

Britt, still mounted on Roen, narrowed her eyes as she watched her knight and newest addition to her company walk back to the camp, exchanging intelligence. “You didn’t foresee anything about him at all, did you?”

“Of course not. I’m a wizard, not a prophet. Hold your blasted beast still, I don’t fancy walking through all those bushes again,” Merlin said, trying to mount up behind Britt as Roen kept swiveling to avoid him.

Britt halted and allowed Merlin to climb up behind her. “If you can’t see the future why say those kinds of things?”

“Ah-ah, but I
can
see the future. Pieces of it anyway. But I see grand pictures, the fates of nations and such. I honestly have no idea what the future is like for individuals, but one does not need to be a prophet to make an educated guess. Besides, words have power. Young Ywain
will
be your knight until his dying breath now, and he
will
go out and accomplish great deeds, merely because he has been told that he can.”