Goddess of Legend (21 page)

Mary curtsied, and then Isabel curtsied, and then Mary ran from the room before they got into another battle and giggling fit.

“I do not feel able to climb up on that bed, Isabel.”

“How about we just plop down on the floor, Gwen? We can talk and chat like teenagers as if we’re having a sleepover.”

Gwen slipped to the floor without argument. “What is happening to me, Isabel?”

“Trust me, you will be feel so much better in the morning.” Wait, PMS. Maybe in a couple of days without a pharmacist around to help. “Or very soon.”

 

 

MARY was so busy keeping the overloaded tray in her hands steady, she nearly ran head-on into King Arthur. She stopped as fast as she was able, which made the tray that much more dangerous.

She attempted to curtsy even as she babbled out her apology.

The king helped her steady the tray, then took it from her hands. He had a smile that could fell a bull. “’Tis all right, Mary. My deepest apologies for startling you.”

It took her many moments to collect her breath.

“The queen is no longer up with the seamstresses, King Arthur, if that is where you’re headed.”

“I was not. Was I supposed to be?”

It appeared that Lily had failed to find him. “No longer. Sir, I, sir, I, Your Highness, sir, I am so deeply sorry for my clumsiness.”

He chuckled softly. “’Twas not your clumsiness at fault here, Mary. ’Twas mine.” He glanced down at the tray, with the two goblets, the two wines, and the assortment of meats, cheeses and breads. “Are you headed to the Countess Isabel’s quarters?”

“I am, sir.”

“So she is entertaining?” he asked.

“She is, sir.”

Mary had not been in the king’s company for long, but she very much understood the appearance of a man hurt by news. ’Twas the same jaw-ticking, eyes-dropping look she had received the first two times she had refused James’s proposals.

She weighed loyalties, and just had to believe that she was not betraying Lady Isabel. “She is entertaining the queen, m’lord.”

He glanced up, the light that had extinguished from his eyes only moments ago returning. “She is with Gwen?”

“Yes, m’lord.” She felt like skipping. ’Twas twice today that she had made a royal happy. ’Twas a happy day indeed. She could not wait to find a moment to tell James.

“Then by all means, Mary, allow me to carry this tray to the door for you.”

“But, sir!”

“Shhh! We shall be extremely stealthy as we approach. And I will leave prior to your entrance. They shall never be aware that I was near.”

“But I cannot allow you to carry this tray, my king. ’Tis my job.”

“We shall keep it a state secret,” he said, with a quite fetching smile. “James would ne’er forgive me for not treating his lady as the lady she is.”

“I am no lady, m’lord, I am but at your service.”

As they walked up the stairs and down the halls, her king said, “All who toil at Camelot are men and women, nothing less.”

Mary smiled. “You and my lady Isabel would get on well. She said much the same thing just an hour ago in the sewing room about treating all in the castle with respect.”

“Did she now?”

“She is amazing, m’lord. She has treated me with nothing but kindness and generosity, and if truth be told, she makes me laugh.”

He nodded. “I see, so she is perfect.”

“Well ...”

“Find me a fault, Mary.”

Mary hesitated. The king grinned at her. “Go ahead. Name one.”

“She is a bit picky about the tools I have brought her to clean her teeth and cleanse her breath. She mumbles often about a thing called Listerine. And she wishes for a thing called floss.”

Mary stopped him a few steps away from her mistress’s doorway. “I have most likely spoken out of turn. I very much want the countess to believe in me.”

The king nodded at her. “If the condition of her teeth is the most you have to say about the countess, do you not realize just how loyal you are to her?”

“There is nothing, sir, to report otherwise. Although I must admit, should there be something else, I believe I would not say so. And I will not apologize for this. Yet I apologize. Yet there is nothing else. But if it were so . . .”

He grinned and whispered, “I get it, Mary.”

“She is standing at my side at my wedding, sir.”

“And I will be standing at James’s side.”

Mary felt her heart jump. “This is true?”

“He asked, I accepted. Is that a problem?”

“No, sir. No, not at all. Although after the queen demanded that Isabel leave, I believed that perhaps we would need to travel to Dumont to say our vows. James does not know this yet. But I believe his love for me is enough that we may exchange vows in any land of our choosing.”

The king set down the tray. “When did the queen ask for Isabel to leave Camelot?”

Mary felt her face go from the norm to red-hot fire in a short instant. She should not have overheard that exchange between her queen and her countess on those steps. She had only followed to be certain that Isabel—oh, goodness, she was thinking of her as Isabel—had all that she needed.

She could not face the king. “I cannot say, sir.”

The king took her shoulders. “When, Mary? Please tell me.”

Her slippers were about the only thing she felt good about paying attention to. “I ne’er meant to hear this conversation.”

“Please tell me.”

“The countess and I were having fun in the sewing room. I know naught what upset the queen. But upset she was, and then the next thing I remember is that the queen was laughing and then weeping, and the countess was helping her. I was not trying to listen, I was trying to see if the countess had need of me. The queen, well, she did not seem well. My countess did not have need of me so much. The queen had need of her. They were sitting on the steps and talking. And then Isabel . . . I mean the countess . . . held her up and led her to the room. The queen, I fear was just not quite right. And my countess was trying to help.”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“Countess Isabel ordered tea, but the queen demanded wine. So Isabel ordered that and cheeses and meats and breads to soak them up, as she said. I do not know what is happening in there, sir, but I know that when I left them, they appeared happy enough together. I do not fear for the countess’s life, or I would be the first to intrude.”

“You feared for the countess earlier?”

“I did, sir.”

“From Gwen? From your queen?”

“I cannot answer that question. Even Countess Isabel would ask me not to answer.”

Arthur nodded. “Your lack of an answer speaks louder than any other. It also speaks to loyalty, Mary. So very important. James is a lucky man.” He picked up the tray and handed it to her, holding on until she was steady, which took a moment because here was the king helping her.

“Mary,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes, “I ask you not to spy, only to inform me as soon as possible if you sense anything wrong.”

“Such as?” she asked, feeling a quakiness in her knees once again.

“Such as a threat from one person to another.”

“The countess would ne’er harm ...” She stopped herself. “I cannot imagine either harming the other.”

“’I am going to stay here in the hallway, and I am asking for a report of what you see and feel inside. I do not want details, I do not expect any wrong happening in there, but I must know before I charge in on my own.”

“You would do such?”

“If Gwen is planning to harm Isabel, yes, I would.”

As Mary headed to the door, it came to her thinking that the king had not worried about Countess Isabel harming the queen. Then again, it had not occurred to Mary, either. Very strange indeed that both of them were much more concerned about the welfare of the countess than the queen.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ARTHUR knew that waiting outside of Isabel’s bedchamber was more than ridiculous. And that his fear of Gwen bringing harm to Isabel was also without merit.

Yet his need to protect overwhelmed him. The very perplexing thing that confounded him was it was not his wife he felt the need to protect.

Mary finally left the chamber, seeming almost out of breath. She ran directly to him and curtsied. “My king.”

“Tell me, Mary.”

“The countess has asked me to pass this missive to you, sir. The queen is not well.”

“My thanks,” he said, trying very hard not to rip the note from Mary’s hands. He took it and opened it as slowly as desperation allowed.
Arthur, Gwen needs medical attention. Please have Gwen taken back to your bedchambers, and call for Tom.

Arthur crushed the note in his hand and tossed it aside. “Thank you, Mary. Please go find Isabel’s man, Tom,” he said before storming into Isabel’s quarters without knocking.

The sight afore him was truly amazing. Isabel was pumping at Gwen’s chest, then stopping to give her kisses of sorts.

He had worried about Isabel?

“What are you doing?”

“I think she’s gone into some kind of shock,” she said, huffing afore beginning the process all over again.

Isabel was holding Gwen’s nose shut, while blowing into her mouth. ’Twas shocking. “Stop!”

Isabel stopped the blowing thing and began the pumping her chest thing. “Do you want Gwen to live or not?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Then back off! I should have seen the signs. Her delusions, her mood swings. For chrissake, I thought it was PMS.”

“I need to help.”

“Then bring me some water.”

As he poured, he watched in horror. But in that moment Gwen coughed and shook her head.

Isabel sat back on her heels and wiped her brow. Then she lifted Gwen into a sitting position and accepted the chalice of fresh water from Arthur. “Welcome back, Gwen. That was a tad worrisome. Please sip.”

Gwen grabbed the base of the goblet and attempted to drain it down, but Isabel disallowed it. “No, a sip or two at a time. We will rehydrate you, but not all at once.”

Arthur had never felt so helpless afore. He knew naught what had happened to his wife, he knew naught what Isabel had just done, he only knew he had been unable to do anything worth use, save pour a glass of water. He fell heavily into a chair.

If he puzzled this out, he had to conclude that his wife had a medical episode, and that the woman he ached for had just saved Gwen’s life right afore his eyes. And he had stood helpless.

“Arthur.”

He heard, but the beating in his ears prevented him from hearing.

“Arthur!”

He opened his eyes.

Isabel sat looking up at him. “Arthur, I know this is getting old, but would you please carry your wife to your chambers? She is good for now, but she needs Tom to check her over.”

“Tom is but a tooth healer.”

“To be any kind of healer in my land, you must understand all types of medicine. He is best equipped to diagnose what this is.”

“Dia—”

“Figure it out. But we need to help her back to her bed. Man up, big boy. Carry your wife to your chambers.”

By then there were many in the room. Isabel took control of them all. “Mary, please bring as much fresh water as you can gather to the king and queen’s quarters.”

“Yes, mum.”

“Jenny, please bring to Tom every type of flower and or herb that the queen used in her tea or any other food today.”

The girl named Jenny curtsied and disappeared.

“Mordred! Oh, good to see you up and about.” She glanced down at his leg. “Appears, however, that Dick trussed your leg like a goose’s, or something.”

“I wish to be of service in any way I may, Countess.”

She nodded. “Then how about you lead the way so that no one else impedes Gwen’s transport back to her own bed?”

“My pleasure, Countess,” Mordred said.

Arthur almost grinned as he saw his son appear to beam with pride at having a mission to accomplish. Arthur should have kicked his son in the ass a long time ago. With one swift and most amazing kick, Isabel had done all he had failed to do.

“Arthur!”

He shook his head, trying to rid it of all regrets. “Yes, tell me what I should do.”

Isabel stared up at him, and there he felt a bond. But he had not time to reason it out now. “Is she able to travel?” he asked.

“Yes, and Mordred will forge the way.”

Arthur bent to Gwen, who still appeared sickly. “Are you able to wrap your arms around my neck, Gwen?”

“Lance?” she asked in a very small voice.

Arthur almost dumped her on the spot.

But Isabel took hold of his arm. “No one but you and I heard that, Arthur. Just pick her up and carry her to your bed.”

“Her bed. It is no longer mine.” But he picked her up regardless. “Mordred, my son, I believe you are our escort.”

“Yes, sir, although possibly a slower one than you prefer.”

Arthur turned back before leaving the chamber. “I thank you for saving the queen.”

Isabel smiled at him. “Never a dull moment at Camelot.”

He winced as Gwen clawed at his neck. “You realize that had the positions been reversed, she might well have not worked so hard to save your life as you did hers.” “I like to think that she would.”

Arthur shook his head but smiled. “When we get over this crisis, I must needs speak to you of a place I like to call la-la land.”

As he carried Gwen from the room, he heard Isabel’s musical laughter fill his ears.

 

 

“MUM, had it been you!” Mary said, bursting into her room. She threw herself at Isabel, nearly dropping her.

“It wasn’t me, Mary. What I’d like to know is who and what it was.”

Mary straightened up, scrubbing her eyes against her apron. “I do not know. But it shall not happen to you.”