Embark (King Arthur and Her Knights Book 4) (5 page)

The squabbling knights saw them coming. They stopped beating on each other and instead ran at Britt and Sir Tor.

Roen lashed out before the knight aiming for Britt could reach them. He knocked the knight down, tossing him straight into a mud puddle.

“Thanks, Roen,” Britt said, patting her horse before she carefully dismounted and unsheathed Excalibur.

She saw Sir Tor throw himself from his mount, flattening his opponent like a pancake when he landed on top of him.

Britt adjusted her grip on Excalibur as she approached her challenger—who was on his feet and unsheathing his sword, having tossed his mace away.

“You are cowardly with the gizzard of a chicken,” the knight declared.

Britt ignored the taunt and exhaled, sinking into an offensive stance as years of training as a medieval mixed martial artist took over.

The two things that most greatly extended her lifespan in this crazy time period was her desire to wear a riding helmet, and her mastery with the sword. Even though Britt had yet to be beaten at swordplay since she arrived in ancient England, she approached every fight with a gravity and fierceness that kept her clear-headed and observant.

Even as Britt took in the knight’s sword stance with disgust—he had holes in his defense
everywhere
!—she planned for the best attack that would end the fight as swiftly as possible.

“You are a recreant knight, smeared with pig dung!” the knight said.

Cavall growled, the fur on his spine standing on end.

“Cavall, stand down,” Britt whispered to the fierce dog.

The knight opened his mouth to speak another insult, but Britt lunged forward, striking like a viper. She hit with such speed that the knight, not expecting it, found his sword swatted aside before Britt ground her elbow into his gut. The chainmail he wore did nothing to soften the blow, and as he gasped for breath Britt threw him over her leg, sliding Excalibur next to his throat as he sat, pinned like a bug.

The knight gurgled and tried to suck in air, his eyes wide and chest heaving as Cavall stiffly approached Britt, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

Britt risked a glance at Sir Tor, who peeled the flatten knight off the ground and shook him like a terrier with a rat.

Sir Tor set the man on his knees and shook a stern finger in his face. “Treat your squires with more respect!” he said.

The knight exhaled and fell over, thoroughly rattled.

“Well done,” Britt said, planting a foot on her opponent’s chest when the knight squealed at Cavall.

“I thank you!” Sir Tor said with a shining smile. “Though I had hoped my first fight would be with a sword,” Sir Tor said, looking regretfully to the sword that was still sheathed at his side. “This is the knight that is your master, yes?” Sir Tor asked, calling to the dwarf who was making his way towards them.

“It is,” the dwarf said. “A recreant knight if there ever was one. Are you going to slay him?”

“Mercy,” Sir Tor’s rattled knight said.

“M-m-mercy,” Britt’s pinned knight said. He struggled to speak under the weight of her leg—which she was leaning on.

“Sorry,” Britt said, removing her foot and petting Cavall.

“I will grant you mercy, if you will give up all your possessions here and go to the courts of Camelot to throw yourself at the feet of King Arthur and pledge loyalty to him. Oh—and if you have any land it will go to King Arthur. If I find out you haven’t done this, I will find you,” Sir Tor said.

“Oh yeah, I nearly forgot about that,” Britt said, turning to her captive. “I will spare your life if you forfeit all your land and treasures to King Arthur, and travel to Camelot to swear loyalty to him. Should you fail to do this, I will hunt you until you drop from exhaustion.”

“Agreed,” Britt’s opponent wheezed.

Within minutes the two recreant knights—divulged of their armor, horses, and equipment—walked away, heading in the direction of Camelot with wide eyes.

“That was well done, Sir Tor,” Britt said.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Sir Tor smiled. “I’m glad. Being a knight is just as fun as I thought it would be.”

“You two belong to King Arthur’s courts?” the dwarf squire asked.

“I do,” Sir Tor said before he grimaced and looked to Britt. “I suppose if I had been thinking I could have made that knight swear loyalty to you right now.”

“No, it’s better if they don’t know who I am,” Britt said.

“
You’re
King Arthur?” the dwarf squire said, raising a bushy eyebrow at Britt.

“I am,” Britt said with her King Arthur smile.

“Hmph. You are just as pretty as they say—though you still don’t look a day over 16…My Lord,” the dwarf squire said.

Britt frowned at the observation as the dwarf turned all of his attention to Sir Tor.

“You have helped me, Sir. Thank you,” the dwarf said. “I would like to enter your services as your squire.”

“There’s no need for that, good sir. I freed you so you may do whatever you please—not so you would serve me,” Sir Tor said.

“I thought as much, but I would still like to enter your services. Though you lack finesse, you have the bearings and the character of a true knight.”

“I couldn’t—I mean, you really don’t want to serve me,” Sir Tor protested.

“You may as well take him on,” Britt said. “Believe me; it is really hard to get all your armor on alone. If you go questing a lot you’ll be thankful for the help.”

“Yes, but…My Lord,” Sir Tor frowned. “The…expense may be more than I can handle.”

“Look at it this way. In the first morning of your first quest you have already acquired a warhorse, at least one set of armor—,”

“Two,” the dwarf piped in. “He had battle armor and armor he used to go court ladies in.”

“Two sets of armor—which even if they do not fit you, you could sell for a pretty price—the horse’s equipment, and a tent,” Britt said, pointing to one of the bright tents. “Even if you do not defeat another knight, I do not think you will be overburdened by the addition of a squire.”

“I have my own mount already,” the dwarf helpfully added.

“Alright,” Sir Tor caved. “I thank you for your service, good sir. Though I should be upfront and tell you I am but a new knight. Before yesterday I was nothing but a cowherd until King Arthur granted me the boon of becoming a knight.”

“Believe me, it’s obvious,” the dwarf said.

Chapter 5

Caught

It took Brit, Sir Tor, and the dwarf—whose name was Lem—the better part of an hour to pack up the tents and equipment and get it loaded on the animals.

With the petty knights gone, Cavall was back to his pleasant self and trotted after Britt like a lamb—seemingly to Lem’s disgust.

By the time all the animals were secured, it was late morning.

“I fear we will be well behind our quarry,” Sir Tor said, squinting at the tracks.

“What are you chasing?” Lem asked, mounted on his mule.

“A knight, carrying a stolen white hound,” Britt said.

“Him? No, you don’t need to worry about losing him. His lady is camped not far from here, and I have no doubts it was to her that he carried the hound to,” Lem said.

“You’ve seen the hound, then?” Britt asked.

“Yes. He carried it through here late last evening. My master would have stopped him to fight, but he ran his horse as if hounds of hades were chasing him. He is another recreant knight—although I suspect it is more that he is in love with a selfish troll of a girl,” the dwarf said.

“At least the hound isn’t much farther,” Sir Tor said.

“I suppose. This way to the lady’s camp,” Lem said, kicking his long-eared mule.

They had taken less than five steps when a horn was sounded, and at least a dozen men mounted on swift horses swept through the clearing.

“It seems we may be taken captive,” Lem said with a tight face.

“Hardly,” Sir Tor said, just as cheerful as ever.

“It is just my nursemaids. They have finally caught up,” Britt dryly said.

“
ARTHUR
,” Merlin called from the center of the force. Most of them were guards—specifically Britt’s guards—who were no doubt there to take Britt back. Two knights, however, had accompanied the party: Kay, who was no surprise; and Lancelet, who had probably come just to be annoying.

“Hello Merlin, Kay, guards…Lancelot,” Britt said, spitting the last name out with a frown.

“
ARTHUR
,” Merlin repeated, his voice loud and forbidding.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive my manners, this is Lem—Sir Tor’s new squire,” Britt said, swinging Roen aside so her guards could see the dwarf on his mule.

“I think what Merlin means to say, sir, but finds his words failing, is where have you been?” one of the guard captains asked.

“I’ve been questing with young Tor here. You missed it. Together we beat two recreant knights and sent them to Camelot,” Britt said.

“Arthur,” Kay frowned. “Just a few months ago you promised you would tell me if you planned to do something stupid, like this.”

“Would you have let me come?”

Sir Kay shifted in his saddle and said nothing.

“Well there you have it. Besides—I didn’t go alone. When we set out King Pellinore and Sir Gawain were with us as well,” Britt said.

“A merry traveling company!” Lancelot proclaimed.

“Of all the stupid things you’ve done,
ARTHUR
, this is near the top,” Merlin said, drawing closer on his horse—a spindly legged creature.

Britt twisted in the saddle to look at Tor. “I apologize, Sir Tor. It seems you shall have to continue on without me.”

“Very well, My Lord. Safe travels home,” Sir Tor said, gathering up his reins.

“Thank you. Good luck with your quest.”

“Indeed, with luck we will see you soon in Camelot. Lead on, Lem,” Sir Tor said, turning to his new squire.

Lem eyed Britt and her company, but kicked his mule forward, leading Sir Tor deeper into the Forest of Arroy.

“Well?” Merlin asked.

“Well what?” Britt said when the knight and squire were out of sight.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Britt thought for a moment. “I thought you would catch up sooner,” she said.

“
ARTHUR
!” Merlin shouted.

“To be honest I was surprised I even made it out of the castle. You used to be sharper. What’s happening to you, Merlin?” Britt innocently asked, widening her blue eyes and looking at Merlin with sympathy.

“
You
,” Merlin glowered. “I will have you tarred, and stretched, and
tied to your throne you silly—
,” Merlin cut himself off and glared at Britt.

“We may as well head for home. But good news—I won another horse,” Britt said.

“The last thing you need is another
horse
,” Merlin spat before riding to the front of the guard formation to speak with the captain.

Britt frowned as Roen and Cavall joined the procession, surrounded on all sides by guards. “He seems especially bothered,” Britt said, tilting her head in Merlin’s direction when Sir Kay joined her.

“He was upset to discover you left without leaving any kind of notice. I must admit that I am upset as well.”

“What?” Britt blinked.

“We have discussed this before. You said you would tell me next time you left.”

“I know. I should have thought it through better, I guess. I’m sorry—,”

“You said you were sorry last time!” Sir Kay said, his voice as close to a shout as Britt had ever heard. “You claimed you wouldn’t do it again. We cannot trust you, Arthur.
I
cannot trust you. It is my job to make sure you are safe, and your careless actions make you the biggest threat to your own wellbeing!”

Britt could feel herself shrink in the saddle. The guards riding around Britt were stone faced, though Britt didn’t doubt they wished they were anywhere but here, listening to Sir Kay scold her.

“I asked you to tell me—I thought you trusted me. But it seems you do not,” Sir Kay said before he cued his horse forward and joined Merlin at the front of the line.

Britt almost groaned when Lancelot cleared his throat as he drew his hose alongside hers. “I found your absence worrisome as well,” Lancelot said.

Britt gave him a withering glare.

“It’s true,” Lancelot said, looking injured.

Britt ignored the knight and stared straight ahead.

“All of Camelot was in an uproar when it was discovered you had left with the questing knights last night,” Lancelot said. “Your nephew, Sir Ywain, almost roused a search party of fifty knights before Merlin and Sir Ector decided it would be best to track you in daylight.”

They rode in silence for a bit, Britt unwilling to force herself to converse with a man she despised.

“Sometimes I think, My Lord, that you are more of a wizard than Merlin is,” Lancelot said.

“What?” Britt frowned at the handsome knight.

Lancelot shrugged. “You have your men grasped so tightly. They are so deeply invested and involved in you, that all action stops if you go missing, or run off an adventure. You have some knights who would do anything to be in your inner circle, and you purposely keep them at arm’s length.”

Britt studied Lancelot, not sure how to interpret his unusually deep observation.

“Anything, My Lord,” Lancelot remarked, highlighting his previous statement.

Britt opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to her mind.

“Of course that may also be because you have such wonderful knights in your court,” Lancelot said, sounding silly and pompous again. “I know Sir Gawain, Sir Kay, and Sir Bodwain are widely celebrated, but I flatter myself by including my name amongst the greatest. Did I ever tell you that I killed a dragon before I joined your company? It was a great and mighty leezard.”

Britt’s shoulders heaved in relief. She could safely tune Lancelot out once again. The young knight had, unintentionally of course, given Britt a great deal to think about. Was it selfish that she ran off, not telling anyone of her goals? The guards let her go, yes, but wasn’t it because she was king rather than she had an actual right to leave?

Britt pondered Kay’s words and Lancelot’s accidental observations, as the fashionable knight jabbered the whole way home.

“…Of course there I smote it, and the fair damsel was so relieved she all but collapsed. I sought to carry her across the river, but Lionel insisted—which was just as well, for I was forced to fight off a sea serpent along the way…”

The following day, Britt sat on a wooden fence and watched some of her knights joust, compete in archery, and duel with swords. What was meant to be a day of practice in arms—which Britt had declared in the morning after sitting through an uncomfortable/icy meeting regarding the castle’s defenses with Merlin and Sir Kay—was becoming more of a small, informal tournament. Knights who won paraded themselves before the court ladies—who were all aflutter in their bright dresses.

Britt—standing on the edge of the practice ring—twisted to look at Sir Kay, who speaking to a guard not twenty feet behind her, a swarm of ladies standing nearby.

Britt sighed and drummed her fingers on the fence. After contemplating her actions for the past day, Britt was forced to admit that she was wrong, or at least she had gone about addressing her worry of inactivity all wrong. She owed Sir Kay and Merlin—all of her men, really—an apology.

“Might as well start with Kay,” Britt said, kicking her legs over the fence. She waited to approach Sir Kay until the guard left.

“My Lord,” Sir Kay stiffly said, bowing when she drew close.

“Sir Kay,” Britt said, standing next to the stone-faced knight.

After a few minutes of silence Sir Kay bowed again and moved to walk away.

“Wait, please,” Brit said, catching him by the arm.

“My Lord?” Sir Kay said, squaring his shoulders.

“I know…saying I am sorry, or deeply regretting my actions isn’t enough. I knew why you wouldn’t want me to go, but I—,” Britt broke off in a sigh. “What I mean is, I was being stupid, and I’m willing to do anything to make up for my actions.”

“Anything?” Sir Kay asked.

Britt swallowed. “Anything.”

Sir Kay said nothing for a few moments. “I am glad you see the error in your ways, My Lord. My greatest wish is that you would not do it again, but I do not think that wish will be realized.”

“Then I’ll work to see that it is, and I will regain your trust,” Britt said.

Sir Kay sighed. “I’m afraid the true problem is the reverse, My Lord. You do not trust me.”

“No, that’s not it,” Britt said, shaking her head. “I trust you a lot, Kay. I trust you with my life, and, even more important, I trust you to be my friend. I guess…sometimes I forget why it’s
important
that I trust you with my life and I become…”

“Blinded by your goals,” Sir Kay said.

“Yes,” Britt said.

“It’s good that you’re passionate, My Lord. But blindness leads to folly.”

Britt had nothing to say to such an astute observation, so she nervously shifted in the silence. “Am I forgiven?” she asked when she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Of course, My Lord.”

“Great,” Britt said, sagging with relief.

Sir Kay said nothing.

“So we’re…siblings, again?” Britt asked.

One end of Sir Kay’s lips curled in a reluctant smile. “Siblings,” he said. To the quiet knight’s shock, Britt reached out and clasped him in a hug.

“Thanks, Kay,” Britt whispered before she released him. She glanced at the practice ring, and scowled when Lancelot bowed at some of the spectators, having disarmed his third opponent.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a twit of a knight to defeat,” Britt said. “Wish me luck?”

“You have no need of luck, My Lord.”

Britt laughed. “I’m certainly glad you think so,” she said, making her way to the practice ring. She smiled at the ladies who clambered to her side. “Good afternoon, gentle ladies,” she said.

“My Lord, are you going to fight?”

“Wear this sprig of ivy if I find favor with you, My Lord.”

“Would you like a token of affection to carry into battle?”

Britt slipped over the fence—and out of their grasp—as quickly as she could. “You are too kind, ladies. But I would like to challenge Sir Lancelot before someone else does,” Britt said, offering them a wink before she trotted off.