goddess.
Arthur seemed at a loss for words. “I’d not thought of this. Perhaps the queen can answer this. The women seem not to be incontent, but, Countess, I will inquire and, should there be a problem, shall attempt to address this as soon as possible. Mayhap, with your suggestions? These quarter things, for example.”
“Whoa, let’s take this slowly, Arthur. Quarters is a skill. But should you allow, I might possibly come up with something.”
“I will be open to any suggestions, Countess. Now, shall we proceed to Camelot?”
“Let’s roll,” Isabel said. She turned back to her crew and winked. Tom, Dick and Harry all stepped forward to assist her back onto Samara. The king waved them all away. “This will be my pleasure, Countess. On our travel, may we discuss the college thing?”
When Arthur’s men had materialized with his own steed, a dapple gray, he’d given them orders to stand forward and behind her own men. And then she and this king had spent the rest of the ride side by side, joking.
Isabel liked him.
CHAPTER FIVE
OKAY, Camelot was magnificent. Isabel would have given anything to have her camera equipment with her. It was so unfair not to be able to capture the beauty of it all.
There was an actual moat that they all traversed over a bridge, a wooden bridge. They then entered a keep that was so buzzing with activity that Isabel was almost afraid. So many men working as if they were in football practice, so many women running back and forth chasing after children.
The castle itself was breathtaking. Isabel had assumed it would be made of stone, but strangely, it seemed mostly to be made of wood. And yet so many chimneys had smoke chugging from them. And she had the feeling there wasn’t a single smoke alarm in the place.
What really shocked Isabel, though, was the way all of the people greeted their king. They bowed, of course, as he entered the keep, but they smiled, too. These people really liked their leader. Isabel could relate. Unfortunately.
The great hall was also abuzz with activity. But it seemed to come to a screeching halt when the king escorted her in and loudly announced her arrival. Even the animals running around—there had to be at least thirty dogs of all varieties—froze. Then the bowing and curtsying began.
“Please tell them to rise, sir,” she whispered to Arthur. “They’re acting like I’m freaking royalty.”
Arthur’s eyes widened for a second. “Countess, you
Oops. “Perhaps, but I’m not so big on the bowing and scraping thing. It makes me uncomfortable. I much more prefer an equality of sorts.”
He smiled again, which was really mean because his smile was lethal. “We have much in common, m’lady.”
“Isabel.”
“Isabel it is, then. And I am Arthur. Please, I beg you to leave off the king part.”
“Deal!” she said.
“Rise, all! The lady prefers you not ...”
“Grovel?” Isabel provided.
“. . . feel the need to lower yourselves upon her entrance,” King Arthur finished.
Isabel felt the need to bow a little herself. Then she stood and said, “Okay, now we’re even. No more of that, all right? It’s a pain for all of us. By the way, hi! Good to be here,” she said, waving in what she hoped wasn’t a Queen Elizabeth-type way.
Everyone, even the dogs, stared at her like she was a little, or maybe a lot, addled. But then they smiled. And several waved back.
There were what she thought were things called rushes on the floor, and the hall smelled a little smarmy. Part sweat, part pee, part burning wood, part indescribable. Yet as she and Arthur walked farther into the great room, a kind of nice smell kept wafting up.
“Thyme?” she asked.
The king looked at her. “My guess, Isabel, is betwixt the noon hour and evening meal.”
“I was talking about . . . never mind. May I retire to my quarters to prepare for supper?”
“Most assuredly, Countess. Your trunks will be delivered as soon as one of your Toms, Dicks or Harrys manage to get them up there.” The humor was back in his eyes, and Isabel was once again bamboozled.
She pulled herself together to ask one more thing. “Sir, my men. They mean a great deal to me. Their accommodations?”
“They’ll be given the best the great hall of Camelot has to offer, Isabel.”
Once again, she melted. The way her name came off his tongue really screwed with her hormones. “Does this mean they’ll stay downstairs, then?”
“Do you want them up closer to you, Isabel?”
“Is that possible? I don’t want to upset anyone, but I truly want them near me.”
“Very unusual, but it shall be done.” The king took a long look at her, then bowed. “I only wish to make you happy.”
Happy would be kissing him senseless.
Her necklace again thumped her.
ISABEL’S room was the epitome of medieval luxury accommodations. The walls were made of rustic wood, which smelled of cedar, but probably weren’t. The bedsheets were rose and forest green. She had her own special room, if you could call it that, with a piss pot in just about every corner. And in front of the fireplace was a huge tub.
There was a cheerful fire crackling in the huge fireplace, which bathed the room in a rosy glow. All in all, considering the time period, this was presidential-suite material.
Her trunks had been delivered to her room, and Viviane had thought of everything. Except floss. And a toothbrush. And Listerine.
Pink. Probably Isabel’s least favorite color. Not only did it wash out any color from her face, it reminded her of the time when she’d been forced to play the cotton candy in her fourth grade play,
Isabel jumped when there was a knock at her door. “Yes?”
“M’lady, ’tis Mary. I shall be your chambermaid during your visit.”
“Well, by all means, Mary, come on in.”
“Me arms be full, m’lady.”
Isabel turned from her trunks and went to the door. “Full of—”
She stopped as she stared down at the loaded tray in the young girl’s hands. There were several twigs that appeared shredded on one side. A small bowl with what looked like salt. A pitcher of water and another small bowl of greens which smelled like mint.
