Goddess of Legend (30 page)

“I will not.”

Arthur stood. “One last thought, Gwen, that I must insist you carry with you at all times.”

“Yes?”

“Isabel saved your life. But not for her quick ministrations, we would not be having this conversation.”

“I am aware.”

“Whether you believe it or nay, she does truly care about you. She sympathizes with all of the twisted emotions swirling around us all. Should anything untoward happen to her, should I even see an unexplained scratch upon her person, you will see wrath as you have ne’er even imagined.”

Finally the tears Gwen had been trying so desperately to blink back came to surface. “She saved my life once days ago, Arthur. She came to me this morn to attempt to save it once again. This I will ne’er forget.”

“I hope you do not. As strange as this might sound to you, she would make an excellent friend and ally.”

“And as strange as this may sound, Arthur, I would so very much like to make her both.”

He nodded, walking her to the door. “You will not be sorry.”

“I will not let on that I know of this love betwixt you.”

“No need to. I shall tell her this evening. As you should tell Lance.”

She nodded, then squeezed the back of his hand. “This time I shall not disappoint you.”

She started to leave and then turned back. “Do any of the servants know?”

“Why ask you this?”

“So I am fully aware of who I may speak frankly in front of.”

“James and Mary. They know. At least, I am presuming so.” His lips tipped up in a slight grin. “They intervened in a rather amusing way when Isabel and I had a slight misunderstanding.”

She nodded, although she could not believe all that had transpired as she lounged in her bed. “I am thinking it would make a good tale one day.”

“It would indeed.”

She waved toward his desk. “I will leave you to your planning. And I thank you, Arthur, for your honesty and your . . . compassion.”

“And I thank you, as well, for your honesty this day. I wish you happiness, Gwen. I truly do.”

“I know. I wish the same for you.”

 

 

ARTHUR closed the door behind Gwen, because privacy was something he craved as he pondered all that had just been said.

“I will take ‘The Most Happy Man in Camelot at This Moment’ for a thousand, Alex,” he whispered.

“Who is King Arthur?” he answered himself. “Correct!”

He shook his head, smiling, as he unrolled the parchment. “Isabel, my love, you have most certainly made me batty.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ONCE again, Gwen found herself outside of a door, ready to knock. It simply baffled her, the sense of humility she had learned to possess, just since the morning. This day had been trying, fun, enlightening, heartbreaking, and it was not even half over.

She heard laughter behind the door and hesitated.

“He did not!” she heard a young female voice say. “You jest.”

“I kid you not. And then he attempted a kiss.”

That voice she easily marked as Isabel’s.

“After tossing a toad down your bodice?”

Gwen seriously doubted the two were discussing Arthur. Though he loved a good jest, a toad in a woman’s bosom did not sound like his sense of fun.

“It was his way of showing affection, I suppose,” Isabel said. “After all, we were eight at most.”

“It sounds to me, lady, that his attempt at courting was somewhat misguided.”

“You think? I thought it such a loving gesture.”

The two women again broke into laughter. Gwen almost hated to ruin the mood. But more, she had hopes she would be included in the enjoyment.

She knocked.

As she feared, the laughter ceased instantly.

“Come in,” Isabel called.

Gwen opened the door and stepped through. The two were seated on the floor and Isabel was doing a staining thing on Mary’s toes. Half were painted a rose color.

“I am sorry to interrupt,” she said.

Mary scrambled to her feet and curtsied. “Your Highness!”

“Please sit, Mary,” Gwen said, “do not let me interrupt . . . whatever that is you are doing.”

Isabel smiled at her. “We are experimenting with ways to make Mary the prettiest she can be on the night of her vows ceremony.”

“May I join you? And please, Mary, resume what you were doing. I am quite curious of this fun.”

Isabel smiled at her. “Of course you may. The more the merrier, right, Mary?”

Mary glanced nervously between them. Gwen nodded. “Sit, Mary. As a matter of fact, I was hoping you would be here. We have a wedding to plan. And I am very interested in watching and learning this practice.”

Mary said, “I will sit when you do, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to wager upon which of us manages to sit our backsides down first?”

Mary giggled, and Isabel laughed, which for some reason did Gwen’s heart good. She had taken time to ponder all that had occurred this day, all that she had needed to face about herself, about all that she had to do to make things right.

Finally she thumped down onto the floor and waved Mary down.

“Please, sit.”

“May I get you anything, Your Highness?”

Gwen looked to Isabel. “Is it just me or does this ‘Your Highness, ’ ‘your Countess,’ ‘your whatever’ tend to get old?”

Isabel looked at her, and the smile that lit her face made Gwen’s heart proud. “It gets pretty tedious, indeed,” Isabel agreed.

“Just Gwen, okay? At least amongst us girls. I understand the reluctance while others are around, but here, now, it is just Gwen.”

Mary appeared horrified. “Oh, I could never.”

Isabel rolled her eyes at Gwen. “It took me days and plenty of threats. She will give in eventually.”

Gwen smiled. She was not angry at Isabel. How could she be? Arthur had been right. Her anger at his infidelity was hypocrisy at its most severe. And she loved her husband enough that after the hurt and anger came the realization that he was such a good man and deserved a woman worthy of him.

Her question to herself had been, would she take back all that had happened . . . that she had made happen . . . to save the life she lived? The answer was no. She could no more take back her love and attraction to Lance as she could reach out and bring down the moon.

“I would love some wine, Mary,” she said.

“There is some right here,” Mary said.

“No!” Gwen said, rising again. “I shall pour for the two of you. And for me, of course.”

As she rose, Gwen witnessed the astonished glances exchanged between the two women, and smiled to herself. She was enjoying this immensely. “Please, explain to me this toe-staining thing.”

“It is simply a fun thing,” Isabel said. “It makes a woman’s toes prettier.”

“Where did this come from? Did you bring it from Dumont?”

“Actually, no, we had to experiment until we had the formula right. We colored water with flowers, then we added corn starch to make it sticky enough to adhere.”

“Adhere?”

“Stick,” Mary said. “So that it will dry and remain upon the nails.”

Gwen returned and handed Isabel a goblet, and then held out the other to Mary.

Mary looked to Isabel who nodded. “Just this once and just a little. Just because this seems like we are having a girls’ day this afternoon.”

Mary smiled and accepted the goblet. “I thank you so much, Your—”

“Gwen. And as I am your queen, you must needs listen to what I ask. I ask that you call me by my given name. As you do Countess Isabel.”

Isabel stared at Gwen, who smiled back at her.

Oh boy. She didn’t know how Gwen had learned, but in her gut she was absolutely certain Gwen had learned.

“You know,” she whispered.

Gwen sat down, a goblet in her own hand. “I do.”

“But how?”

Mary’s eyes darted back and forth between them, filled with worry. “I do not know of what you speak,” she said, “but I swear, Isabel, that I have ne’er repeated a word of the talks between us to anyone. Save . . . oh, no! James?”

“Settle, Mary. ’Twas Arthur himself who told me,” Gwen said. “He was, as always, honest to a fault.”

Isabel nearly keeled over. Arthur admitted . . . she did not know what. Perhaps that they were merely lovers? That he—

“That he is in love with you, Isabel.”

Mary just stared, mute. Then she said, “Mayhap I should go check on . . . something.”

“Sit,” Isabel and Gwen said in unison.

Gwen laughed. “Betimes honesty is overrated, do you not think so? Today it was not. ’Twas what I needed to be told. He understood that, as he seems always able to do.”

“I am so, so very sorry, Gwen,” Isabel managed to squeak out. “I never meant . . . it was never meant ...”

“Sorry? For following your heart? For making a very wonderful man happy again, for the first time in many days? Do you think I fault you? Would I be here, sharing time with you if I had ill intentions or thoughts?”

It occurred to Isabel that Gwen had just recently insisted on pouring the wine. She looked down into her goblet.

Gwen watched with a smile on her face. Then she reached over and traded goblets, downing a good bit of liquid before trading back. “No, Isabel, I am not intent on poisoning you. Arthur made it clear that if he sees even a scratch upon your skin, he will make people pay. And by people, he means me. And by pay, he means with my life. As I have no desire to incur his wrath, please trust that I will ne’er, e’er harm you.”

“You will not,” Mary said hotly. “I will not allow it.”

That was a bold move for a servant at Camelot. Alarming in fact. “Calm down, Mary. Gwen is here to discuss your wedding, is that not right, Gwen?”

“That is right. However, I would very much love to get involved with this toe-painting thing afore we get to the specifics of the menu. I have a . . . meeting this night and would very much enjoy surprising him.”

Mary and Isabel exchanged glances. Finally Mary said, “Then, Your Highness, I suggest you remove your slippers.”

“If you are to paint my toes, Mary, I insist you call me Gwen.”

“As I have also insisted to Isabel, m’lady, only amongst us. Never, ever among others. Please do not insist so when the three of us are not alone.”

Gwen shot a questioning glance at Isabel.

“Her friends, if you can actually call them that, have been shunning her out of jealousy.”

“Jealousy?”

“They believe she is marrying above herself, as James is such a high-ranking soldier in Arthur’s army. And though Mary has never lorded it over them, they are still envious.”

Mary took a sip of wine. “Some also envy that I was assigned to look after the countess.”

“Like that’s been a real plumb job, eh, Mary?” Isabel teased.

“That is horrid!” Gwen said. “Oh, Mary, is there naught that I can do?”

“I believe we can shove that envy down their throats by throwing Mary and James a beautiful and unforgettable exchanging of vows.”

“And that we will do. Allow them to choke on their jealousy.”

Isabel raised her brows at Gwen.

“Hey!” Gwen said, holding her goblet in the air. “Have I poisoned you as yet?”

“Good point,” Isabel said, toasting and taking another sip of her wine.

 

 

BY the time the three of them had finished polishing their toenails, they had had interruptions from Jenny, James, Tom and Hester the Jester. Why Hester felt the need to interrupt, Isabel had no idea. They were all giggling, lying on their backs, flailing their legs in the air, trying to dry this homemade concoction.

When there was yet another knock, Isabel had just about had it. “What?” she yelled. “Good gods, it’s like Grand Central Station around here.”

“May I enter?”

The three looked at one another, obviously recognizing the voice. They all sat up and rearranged their skirts.

“Isabel, I need to see you, to talk to you,” Arthur said. “Please allow me entrance.”

“Come on in, Arthur,” she said. “It is unlocked.”

He opened the door and then nearly gaped as he took in at the sight of them all on the floor.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to interrupt . . . whate’er this might be. I believe I do not even want to know what this might be.”

“Girly stuff,” Isabel said. “We have been planning Mary’s wedding.”

He looked as uncomfortable as a perfectly fat and healthy chicken inside a KFC.

Gwen stood up, a little wobbly, perhaps. “Mary and I were about to take a walk to finish drying our toes, were we not, Mary?”

She held out her arm, and Mary gladly, it appeared, grabbed hold. “I believe we were, Your Highness.”

Mary performed a quick curtsy as she passed by Arthur. “My king.”

“Oh, please, cut it out, Mary,” he said. “We are friends. Stop the groveling.”

She nodded. “I apologize, King Arthur.”

Arthur actually growled, but he held open the door as both Mary and Gwen ducked under his arm and, from the sound of it, ran down the hall. And then he nearly slammed it shut.

“What is happening, Isabel?”

“Mary and I were having a girlie moment, and Gwen asked to join. Why do you look so upset? Nothing wrong happened here. We were having fun.”

“Gwen knows of us.”

“And guess what, I know of that. She told me.”

“She did?”

“Indeed. In fact, she was very accepting of the situation. So why are you upset?”

“I feared . . . well, was concerned ...”

“Hey, I’m still here, Arthur. Gwen is not the murdering kind. You must know that. You would not have married a woman whose heart you believed to be cruel. You never would.”

“I would hope not. But with you I cannot begin to take the chance.”

“I love you, Arthur.”