Camelot & Vine (12 page)

Mesmerized by his cracked nails and
weathered skin, I followed his hand along the uneven triangle he
traced between the Giant’s Ring, Poste Perdu and Cadebir. On his
middle finger he wore a silver ring with concentric circles etched
on its round, flat face. Inside the smallest circle was a horseshoe
shape and inside the horseshoe a little mark, like a hyphen. It was
fine, meticulous work.

He was watching me. “You admire my
ring?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“It’s fashioned after the great stones of
the Giant’s Ring.” He lifted his hand for me to get a closer
look.

I bent to examine the Stonehenge pattern,
inhaling his scent of herbs and something like oatmeal. “It’s
beautiful, your majesty.” Unnerved at being so close to the man, I
tried returning my attention to the map. Pointing to a spot
slightly north of the Giant’s Ring, I changed the subject. “Is this
about where you found me, your majesty?”

“Where
you
found
me
, yes.
Nothing there but deep forest and wolves. Except the road. Tell me,
how did you come to be there?”

His gray eyes challenged, his direct gaze
flustered me. He could easily ruin me, as if I were a dry dandelion
bloom and he a breath of wind. I remembered what Myrddin had said
about lying to the king. “I don’t know.”

“Who sent you?”

“No one. I came on my own.”

“But you came to save me.”

“I guess...”

He turned away, releasing me from his eyes.
“You may sit.”

Relieved, I stepped back around the desk,
avoiding the sword, and took the chair next to Myrddin’s.

“The Saxons knew we’d be at that spot at
that time.”

I sat erect. “I’m not a Saxon, your
majesty.”

Myrddin picked through a jar of quills,
looking for something with which to entertain himself.
“Wart—Arthur—”

“I want to hear from the lady.” King Arthur
sat back and waited.

I hesitated. Behind me at the fire pit,
Cavall gnawed a bone, his teeth grinding against its surface.
Mindful of the penalty for lying, I decided it was best to go ahead
with the full truth. “Your majesty, I’m...from the future.” That
was true.

“I see.” He didn’t believe me. “Has this to
do with the Gap?”

“Yes, your majesty.” That seemed reasonable,
in an unreasonable way.

“She arrived here through a gap in time,”
Myrddin said, as though it were obvious.

“Do you have proof?”

I was reminded of the perilous position I
held somewhere between dead prisoner and live avenger. I didn’t
know the truth.

“I’m not sure how to prove it to you, your
majesty. But I’ve known about you all my life. You’re a legend in
my time. Books are still being written about you, fifteen hundred
years from now. Stories are still being told.”

“What sort of stories?”

“I don’t know if they’re true.”

“Tell one.”

“Well. Um. Okay.” I thought of my storybook,
tucked in a drawer in a place called a condo, where there was
electricity. “One says your sword is called Excalibur.”

“I’ve named my sword?” He suppressed a
smirk.

“Yes, your majesty. It shines in battle and
it has magical powers.”

He laughed softly. “Would that it were
magic.”

“You do keep it shiny,” said Myrddin. With a
glass ink bottle, he absentmindedly made sunlight prisms on the
floor.

The king leaned back, tipping his chair
against the wall. “Go on, my lady. I’m entertained.”

“Okay. Uh...as a boy, you pulled your sword
from a stone.”

“Perhaps Lancelot could do such a
thing.”

“It’s how everyone knew you were destined to
be king.”

“Not because the people needed me to lead
them?”

I rushed to say, “I’m sure they did, your
majesty.”

“Continue.” He let the chair land on all
fours again.

“Have you sent Sir Galahad and the knights
on a quest for the holy grail?”

“I haven’t. I’ve never heard of this
Galahad.”

“Oh. Supposedly he’s the strongest knight.
But maybe that story doesn’t happen. Or maybe it’s later. Or the
other knights went.”

“These nights—?”

“Your men. It’s a title. But knighthood,
maybe that was a later invention? Jousting too, probably.”

“Probably. What is it?”

I scooted my chair closer to the desk,
enjoying his interest. “It’s a competition. The knights knock each
other off their horses with a lance.”

“They kill each other for pleasure?” asked
Myrddin.

“They don’t kill each other, mostly. I think
the lance tip is blunt. It does sound ridiculous, though, now that
I think about it.”

“Highly impractical,” said Myrddin, "at
least during war time."

“Yes,” said King Arthur. “I can’t imagine
why, with such silliness, I’d be the legend you say I am. Though I
admit it’s amusing.” He laughed. Myrddin and I laughed with
him.

“So you’re not going to seek the Holy
Grail?” I asked.

“I’ve a war to fight, my lady.” He patted
the desk. “But come, are there more stories?” His smile encouraged
me to speak freely.

“Yes, many. Myrddin taught you things by
turning you into animals. That’s one of my favorites.”

They looked to each other with raised
eyebrows. “That’s true, in a way,” said the king. “Myrddin has his
tricks. But tell me, will I not lead my army to battle, defend my
people? Are there no stories of my might?”

“Oh tons,” I blundered on, emboldened.
“There are at least a dozen battles. And castles, and fair maidens,
knights in shining armor—oh, but you don’t call them knights, so I
don’t know how much of it is true. I wish I knew all the stories,
there are so many. The most famous one’s about Lancelot and
Guinev—” I stopped.

“What happens in that story?” King Arthur
was no longer smiling.

“It’s probably not true,” I said.

“Tell it.” He ignored the strand of hair
that had come loose from his ponytail to hang across his cheek.

My mind sought a quick lie but came up
empty. “Legend says there was a...love affair.”

A loud clatter startled me.

“Sorry.” Myrddin climbed down from his chair
to retrieve an ink bottle from the floor. “Tiny spill.”

“Continue.” The king hadn’t moved.

A vinegar smell rose from the ink spill.
Wishing for a tissue, I wiped my nose on my sleeve and looked at my
lap. “I’m sure it’s not true, your majesty. In the story, the
affair is revealed by your illegitimate son, Mordred.”

“His name is Medraut.” His voice was
flat.

“The legends got a few things wrong.”

“Not as many as one might hope.”

Myrddin returned to his chair. The two men
eyed each other.

So, the queen was indeed Guinevere.

“Splendid,” said the king. “I’ve gone down
in history as a cuckold.”

“Oh no, your majesty,” I said, reminded of
death sentences. “You’re known as righteous and wise, fair,
judicious, and...and...kind...”

“We shall see.” Like lifting a heavy burden,
King Arthur hoisted himself from his chair. He took up the stone
from atop my passport, absentmindedly tossed the rock in his hand
and ambled to the windows to gaze out over the camp. A breeze
wandered in and tousled the muslin curtains, bringing work sounds
with it: pounding hammers, men calling to each other, horse hooves
trotting, a cart rolling by. King Arthur caressed the stone in his
hand, thinking.

Myrddin caught my eye and shook his head
ever so slightly. I didn’t know if he meant “Don’t worry,” “Don’t
say anything,” or “It’s all over for you.”

Cavall stretched and yawned, then sauntered
to his master’s side. The king pulled the shutter closed and
scratched the dog’s big, white head before turning to me. “I
believe you,” he said. “You are from the future. And for saving my
life, I'm grateful.”

Relief made my nose tingle. I bowed my head,
fighting tears.

“If you’re to stay, you must abide by my
terms. You are not to practice sorcery, not the tiniest trick,
without my express orders.”

That was a relief.

“As far as the others know, you are not from
the future. You are a Saxon wizard who has defected to our side.
You will not speak of the future, of the legends, or of the affair,
on pain of death.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“There is no proof of this affair, of
course.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

King Arthur strode back across the room to
loom over the desk, supporting his weight on arms as strong as
girders. “I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful, my lady. I am in your
debt. But I must be clear for the sake of our cause.”

I nodded.

“We are at war. Everyone works for his keep.
Your job shall be Protector of the King. For now there’s little for
you to do, but I will call upon you. You may recuperate here on the
hill or visit Myrddin when he wills it. But I must ask you not to
leave Cadebir without my permission.”

Because not everything the king said was a
direct order, I was beginning to think he didn’t know the extent of
my powers.

“Yes, your majesty.”

He lifted my passport and handed it to me. I
zipped it into my pack.

The king studied me, scratching his stubbled
cheek. “You haven’t answered one of my questions.”

I didn’t remember which one.

“Why did you come here to save my life?”

Why had I flown down through the ages to
this time of all times? Why had the universe opened up and
swallowed me? The question weighted my chest with the wonder at
where I was and who he was. Why him? Why me?

He watched me, intent on Casey the wizard.
Casey the actor had once wanted to command such attention but Casey
the person had failed. I’d spent my life thus far desiring
greatness and becoming nobody. In that rickety chair I sat facing
someone truly great, history’s idol, the world’s, my father’s,
mine.

“Because your life had to be saved, your
majesty. Because Britain needs you.”

A lie, though I meant it with all my heart.
I didn’t know the truth.

He considered it. Then he released the desk
and stood, no longer needing to hold himself up. “I
will
save Britain.”

I didn’t correct him. The legends did not
say King Arthur would save Britain. They said he would return one
day when Britain needed him again. While the king and I gazed at
each other, the Saxons, Jutes and Angles who gnawed at Britain’s
shores were in the process of defeating him. It would take years,
but Britain was already becoming Angle-land. England.

It was a lie of omission, but a lie
nonetheless.

It was also my first act of treason.

SIXTEEN

“How did I do?” I trotted in the dust at
Myrddin’s heels. “Am I safe from burning for now?”

I slammed into him when he stopped and
turned on me, his black eyes hot. “I suggest you lower your voice
when referring to the subject of flames.” He sounded stern, but he
was more interested in what he saw beyond my shoulder.

I turned to look. Two men sauntered by,
carrying a deer carcass strung on a pole between them. When I
looked back, Myrddin was licking his lips. He glanced sideways,
then pulled me off the path.

“Try to see it through Arthur’s eyes,” he
whispered. “The Saxons are maddeningly close. Marauders disrupt our
trade on the seas. What’s left of the British tribes is in disarray
and has been so since the Romans left years ago. Arthur must
coordinate these mobs into an army, and quickly. If we don’t defeat
the enemy we’ll no longer exist. It’s that simple.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for one man. Not
to mention his wife is sleeping with his—”

Myrddin slapped his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t speak of it!” He quickly removed his hand and held both
behind his back. “I beg your pardon. But perhaps you don’t
understand. The queen’s indiscretion is treason, punishable by
death at the stake.”

“Wow.” Myrddin’s glare was unnerving.
“Sorry. I won’t mention it again.”

He continued to glare.

“You have my word?”

“Good.” With an exaggerated sigh he offered
his arm, and we began to stroll. “There’s also the strategic
alliance to be considered,” he whispered. “Arthur’s friendship with
Lancelot is crucial. Poste Perdu is a mere three hours away at a
gallop. Lancelot brings with him the allegiance of the Belgae.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Do. Now. I’ll be with you tonight at
supper, but I recommend you keep your mouth closed at table, except
to put food in it.”

“I’ll be careful. What are these buildings
for?” We were strolling among the huts clustered near the hall.

“People live in them, those in Arthur’s
circle. Lancelot and Elaine, for example. Caius and Andrivette live
in the large hut just there. I’m not sure about the one across from
it. Empty, I believe. Caius is the king’s foster brother, did you
know?”

“Oh. Cai. Sir Kay.”

“From one of your stories, perhaps. Arthur
also uses spare huts for allied chieftains, though some prefer to
camp with their armies.”

“The tents below the hill?”

“Mmmhm. All in preparation for what’s to
come.”

The war. A tingle heated the back of my
neck, softly, like a beam of late afternoon sun. Cadebir fort may
have been the most imposing in the land, but it was no larger than
a Hollywood backlot: big enough to house the pretense of a full-out
war, but not the real thing. Myrddin and I traversed it diagonally
on the path that connected the southwest and northeast gates,
passing hunters with the day’s catch, and servant women with their
baskets. We’d all smile or nod, then, when they got past us, I’d
hear excited whispers.

“Tell me,” said Myrddin, feigning
disinterest, “do the legends say anything else about me?”

“Yeah. At least I think it’s you.”