“I need not be nice,” Gwen said, her eyes suddenly squinty.
“Not part of your job description? What, you only need to be gracious to those of your station and bitch queeny to all else?”
Isabel ignored the gasps.
She got to her feet, pulling Mary up with her. But she kept Mary behind her. “Until you learn to have fun with the people who work so hard to make your pampered life comfortable, you will never connect in an important way. These people work their asses off to make your life glorious. Treat them like shit, and you receive the love and respect of no one. You haven’t earned it.”
“Off with her head!” was the next thing Isabel expected out of Gwen’s mouth. But the queen seemed to be speechless.
So far Isabel’s head seemed to be secure.
“You are such a kind lady, Gwen. What the hell? What is wrong? I thought you asked me here to show me something really nice. What is it?”
Gwen rubbed her temples. “Yes, we are here to see . . . What are we here to see, Jenny?”
A young girl, probably a year or two older than Mary, stepped forward. “We are here to see the women’s leggings, as you had requested.”
“I suggested, I did not request. But I find it wonderful that you have set it in motion, Gwen.”
“You have attempted to take over Camelot, Countess,” Gwen said.
“Excuse me? I had nothing to do with this. We had a good chat and you thought it was an idea to pursue.”
“Liar! The marriage of James and Mary was my idea. This,” she said, waving around vaguely, “this was all my idea! You stole it. You stole it all from me.”
“Okey-dokey, then. It’s all your idea. No problem. No patents happening here.”
Isabel glanced around and every single face was frozen in shock. Hers probably was as well.
“Do you know if she’s had a little too much wine this morning, Mary?” She watched Mary and the girl called Jenny exchange worried glances, and then Jenny shook her head no and shrugged.
“Heretic!” Gwen yelled.
“I don’t have my handy dictionary with me, Mary, but isn’t that a word that means witch or something?”
“I am not sure of the word witch,” Mary whispered, “but I believe it means you are of the underworld. Of the dark forces.”
“So I’m guessing it isn’t a compliment?”
Mary was apparently too afraid to laugh.
“Gwen, how about you and I take a walk and talk about this?” she said, figuring she’d direct Gwen straight to the first pond and dunk her face in it until the woman sobered up.
“You will walk me straight into hell! You want my husband and my crown and my throne, and I see it all now.”
Isabel turned to the closest seamstress. “Please go find the king. Find my man Tom if you can. But most importantly King Arthur. He will know who else needs to be here.”
The girl hesitated. “The king will not trust my request.”
“Please. Tell him that Isabel requests it. It is an emergency. He will thank you. Now run behind me and out as fast as you can.”
The girl glanced from her to Mary. Mary must have given her some signal, as the girl nodded and said, “Yes, m’lady.”
Had to give her credit, that little girl had lightning speed.
But apparently Gwen caught it, and caught it in LSD time.
Or so Gwen appeared. “That was beautiful,” she said. “All others are allowed to leave as well. They are innocent and have not tried to harm me. You have.”
“Then allow them to leave. You and I can speak privately.”
“No! They have work to do.”
“It appears, Gwen, this is personal. Just you and me. No reason to involve anyone else.”
“You stole James.”
“James? You mean Mary’s James? I don’t even know the man, other than he’s my friend’s future husband and your husband’s most trusted soldier.”
“You would steal him from Mary as you stole Arthur from me.” Gwen shuddered and then seemed to whither. She took several labored breaths before lowering her accusing arm. “I am so sorry. I do not know what is the matter.” She shook her head. “Isabel, I wanted to show you the progress we have made on the breeches for women.”
Okay, this wasn’t crazy and this wasn’t drunk. And this was so very far out of Isabel’s knowledge and comfort zone.
“I have been watching, Gwen, and I’m very impressed. And I thank you for taking my suggestion and running with it.”
“Your suggestion?” Gwen nearly screeched. “’Twas my idea. Mine.”
At this point Isabel was hoping for medieval doctors to come in and take Gwen off to the loony bin. No such luck.
“And you will in no way be part of the ceremony between James and Mary,” Gwen said. “All was my idea. And I will have it as I see fit. Or they will not have it at all.”
Isabel felt slapped in the face. At this point Mary was shaking. Isabel held on to her hand. “Should you in any way harm Mary because of my words or actions, I will most definitely take her and James back to the safety of Dumont. Mary has done nothing but be my lady in waiting, or whatever you would call her, and, I would hope, friend. I will not allow you to punish her for actually having fun doing her job. And doing it well. Now you tell me, Queen Guinevere, how you want to play this.”
Again, Gwen was silent for quite some time. And then she did the funniest thing. She bent over in laughter, which shocked Isabel, and probably everyone in the room.
GWEN finally reined in her mirth, but in truth, it took some time. She had just been told to go to Hades by a woman who had walked into her castle and in less than two nights had won over the hearts of more castle staff than Gwen had been able to in the years she had been queen.
The countess had been rolling on the floor with a servant, the two so happy.
Gwen had ne’er ever been close to such a relationship. Truth be told, it had ne’er even entered her mind. And right now her mind felt not so well. She could not seem to control her emotions.
“You may stop protecting Mary, Countess. I have no plans or desires to harm her well-being. This I swear. We are going to have a lovely ceremony in the great hall for Mary and James.”
Isabel, who was standing as a guard against harm, seemed to settle. “We accept that promise, Your Highness.”
The countess turned to Mary. “Want a two-for-one bet on the best curtsy, Mary?”
Mary’s red curls went wild as she shook her head. “No, mum, I believe we have strained the queen’s patience as is.”
“Truth told, you have not,” Gwen said. “I apologize if I sounded impatient. I was anxious, only, to show you, Countess, what we . . . what these talented seamstresses have put their hands to.”
Isabel looked around. “Most appear to be making great progress.”
Gwen smiled. “Yes, for the women. They should be ready by the morning fast.”
It was quite satisfying to Gwen to see the look on Isabel’s face. “You are attempting to take Arthur from me.”
“Are you serious?” Isabel asked. “I was attempting to bring the two of you back together.”
“That is true, my queen. James heard as much,” Mary said.
“Liar!”
Isabel and Mary looked at each other.
“You call her a liar, you call me a liar,” Isabel told her.
Gwen ignored this. “We begin my idea of playtime for all women one hour after breaking fast on the
