King Arthur and Her Knights: Enthroned #1, Enchanted #2, Embittered #3 (6 page)

Britt was unconvinced that another trial would win her more supporters, but mostly she was surprised that she hadn’t woken up from her dream yet. She supposed it probably was because she hadn’t been crowned king yet, so she was relatively amiable to Merlin’s wishes and agreed to another trial.

Candlemas was the second of February. The day was chosen for the sword trial to give men enough time to travel from all parts of Britain to London. Merlin used the time to make more allies and further educate Britt in the ways of medieval society. For hours a day she was forced to study military campaigns, charts of nobility, and religion.

Britt was somewhat surprised, though, that it was Sir Kay and Sir Ector who thought of the more useful sorts of knowledge.

“Tell me, Arthur. Do you know how to ride a horse?” Sir Ector asked one day as he stood with Britt and Sir Kay in the stables. (The father and son were her assigned babysitters for the day as Merlin was meeting with King Leodegrance—one of the kings who was not opposed to Britt.)

“I do,” Britt said as she watched Sir Kay clean his saddle. “I’m not on a knightly level, though. I can keep my seat, and I know the paces, but I can’t even jump. My sister was the real horsewoman of the family. I only learned because of her.”

Sir Kay grunted.

“It will be good enough. Your skills will increase when we leave London and begin riding again. London. No one rides in London, everybody walks everywhere,” Sir Ector said, shaking his head.

“But I don’t even have a horse,” Britt argued.

“Nonsense, Merlin and I picked out a sweet little bay mare for you not two nights ago when I reminded him you would need a mount. That wizard is so absorbed in the future he sometimes forgets the silliest things. Ah, where was I? Oh, yes. Your mare, this is her,” Sir Ector said, stopping in front of a stall that housed a small horse.

Britt slipped into the stall with the mare and set about introducing herself to her horse. The mare was plainly well broke and well trained. A child could have ridden her saddle-less without any trouble. Britt felt a little insulted—she wasn’t
that
bad of a rider—but reasoned it was probably for the best. Britt had no desire to ride a stallion, like Sir Kay did.

“Sir Ulfius owes me a drink. He thought you wouldn’t know how to ride,” Sir Ector laughed.

“Well, normally he would have been right. People in the future don’t ride horses,” Britt said as she ran her hand down the mare’s neck.

“They don’t know how to ride? How do they get around then?” Sir Ector said, sounding dismayed.

“Ahh, we have horseless carriages,” Britt said.

“Sounds like sorcery to me,” Sir Ector snorted. “Kay, what’s wrong boy?”

The knight had paused in the middle of buffing his saddle. “My Lord,” he said, his voice almost strangled sounding. “Do you know how to handle a sword?”

“I do. I can fight loads better than I can ride,” Britt said, hanging her arms over the stall door.

“How good are you?” Sir Kay asked.

Britt bit her lip. “I don’t really know. I was good compared to the students I practiced with… but swordsmanship is even rarer of a hobby than horseback riding in my time.”

“A
hobby
?” Sir Ector said, his voice trilling.

“Do you mind if we spar?” Sir Kay asked as he stood, abandoning his tack. He seemed strangely intense. “I would like to observe your skills.”

“Sure,” Britt shrugged, exiting the stall.

Sir Ector tried to talk Britt out of it as she and Sir Kay walked through the cold streets to the meadow outside of the city limits. He fell silent, however, when Britt and Sir Kay started fighting.

“That will do,” Sir Kay declared after three matches. Britt had won all three, but she reasoned that the knight had to be holding back. How else could she beat him?

Sir Ector was speechless.

“Am I no good?” Britt worriedly asked, glancing at her ‘foster father.’

“Britt you are…,” Sir Ector trailed off before kneeling. “My Lord,” he said.

“My Lord,” Sir Kay echoed, joining his father.

The Candlemas trial came and went. It was utterly unremarkable to Britt, perhaps even boring. Many knights, kings, and barons showed up. All of them tried pulling the sword, and all of them failed. Britt pulled the sword from the stone and stabbed it back in the stone multiple times, freezing because it had finally snowed and the wind cut through all but the warmest of cloaks. Lot and his allies were not moved.

A third trial was scheduled at Easter. Britt felt for sure she would wake up from her unusually long nap by then, but the trial came, men came, and no one could pull the sword but Britt. The days passed by in a haze. Britt almost felt as though she had been stuck in London for a few days instead of months. But that was how dreams worked, or so Britt supposed.

“This isn’t working. Your plan to unite Britain is going to fail, Merlin,” Britt yawned. She was riding out the Easter trial in the comforts of a pub.

“It’s working,” Merlin said, running a hand through his light blonde hair. “I didn’t think everyone would immediately accept you as King. I planned for it to take a season. What you have not noticed is that each and every time you pull the sword from the stone more men join our cause,” Merlin said, stabbing a finger at Britt.

“What do you mean?”

“The commoners. Peasants, they are deeply in love with you already. Knights respect those who are known for battle prowess, the will of God, royalty, and magic. You might appear to be green in the art of battle, but the sword proves the other three. Mark my words that many a knight thinks you are the true King.”

“At this rate I’m going to wake up before I am crowned king,” Britt muttered.

“What did you say?” asked the sharp eared Merlin.

“Nothing. If this doesn’t work out will you send me home?”

“It will work out. It must,” Merlin said, suddenly involved in studying the pattern of the wooden table.

Britt frowned as she watched the enchanter avoid her gaze. “What aren’t you telling me, Merlin?”

Merlin took a sip of his drink and muttered into his mug.

“Merlin,” Britt repeated.

Merlin sighed. “I can’t send you back to your time.”

Alarm shot through Britt and the world spun before Britt reminded herself that it didn’t matter because it was just a dream anyway. “Oh?”

“It’s easy to bring a person from the future to the past because to that person it is history. It has already happened and they could learn about it if they searched. Once in the past, though, it is very difficult to send a person to the future, because no one knows the future,” Merlin said.

“So you’re saying you could keep sending me back through history, but I would never be able to come forward through time,” Britt said, ice settling over her heart.

“That is correct. The faeries are more able to commit time travel, but only a select few can manage it and it is forbidden as it would wreak chaos on the fabric of time,” Merlin said.

“I see. Good thing this is all just a dream then,” Britt muttered to herself before she rubbed the back of her neck, unable to cast off the feeling unease.

A fourth trial was scheduled for Pentecost.

“This could go on forever,” Britt complained the morning of the Pentecost trial. She fed a carrot to Sir Kay’s horse as the quiet knight brushed it. Since Britt first pulled the sword from the stone on the day of the Christmas tournament, Merlin had banned her from wandering around alone. Sir Kay was Britt’s escort of choice as he usually left her alone or practiced riding and swordsmanship with her. If Britt was with any of the older knights—or even worse, Merlin—she was usually coerced into learning more about her allies and enemies. (And frankly Britt did not care that King Lot preferred red roan horses to chestnut colored horses.)

“Merlin will end it soon, My Lord,” Sir Kay said, running a hand down his horse’s front left leg. He still had an aversion to calling her Britt or Arthur.

Britt picked up a brush and turned to her horse. “I’m starting to doubt he will. We’ve been at this for months,” she said as the mare nuzzled her.

“Merlin will see it through. He is nothing if not determined and filled with perseverance. He planned for this when he was but a child himself. He will put you on the throne,” Sir Kay said.

At that moment Merlin banged into the stables, upsetting Britt and the horses.

“What are you doing out here, the trial starts at noon! You’re filthy and wretched looking,” Merlin said, clearly aghast.

Britt dusted horse hair off her tunic. “Always the charmer aren’t you? But who cares when the trial starts? I’m only needed for the last few minutes, and it’s just going to end with scheduling another.”

“No, it will not. Brice—the Archbishop—has decided enough is enough. He is going to crown you today regardless of the dissatisfaction King Lot and his conspirators. Come lad, you need to be properly dressed.”

“What?”

“You need to be properly dressed! You look more like a pig keeper than a king.”

“No, before that. I’m going to be crowned
King
? Today?”

“I do not understand your shock. That has been our goal all along, now stop yapping and start moving. Thank you, Sir Kay, for staying with Arthur,” Merlin said as he dragged Britt out of the stables.

Sir Kay shrugged and his horse neighed.

Britt leaned against a doorway as she watched man after man pull and yank on the sword in the anvil. More than one older baron had thrown out his back during his attempt, and watching the knights strain was an easier task than listening to Merlin and his cohorts battle it out behind her.

“We need to press Arthur’s heritage. He’s the son of Uther Pendragon, he’s the rightful heir to the throne,” Sir Ulfius said.

“A royal pedigree means very little to the general population. They will follow anyone who is charismatic and offers them protection. We should show our support of Arthur the instant he pulls the sword from the stone and the people will follow our lead,” Sir Bodwain argued.

“Pulling the sword from the stone is a miracle. No one besides Arthur can pull it, let us use the sword as our rallying cry,” another knight said.

“That won’t work. He is generally unimpressive to look at. Certainly he’s tall enough, but he hasn’t so much as a spot of fuzz on his chin. In spite of Merlin’s best efforts he still looks like a girl. Not to mention he hasn’t a spine to speak of, he shows no ambition, and his leadership skills are woefully absent,” another knight challenged.