“Why does this matter to you?”
“Because I hate to see your servants worry. They feel adrift without their queen’s guiding hand.”
“I will consider what you say. However, I would like to hear the same from Arthur’s lips.”
“Arthur is not going to demand that you get up. He also has his hands full preparing for the meeting of the knights. But he could certainly use your help in that matter.”
Gwen nodded. “I see.”
“There is also the matter of the wedding between James and Mary. Plans to be made. A menu to prepare. Tell me, is there nothing more fun than helping a bride to prepare for the most important day of her life?”
“’Tis a lot of fun,” Gwen said.
“It sure is. Do you really want to miss out on that?”
Gwen cocked her head. “Tell me, Countess, why you have never married.”
“I’m very picky.”
“Does that mean you do not ever want to be wed?”
Isabel seemed to hesitate. “I don’t rule anything out. Perhaps. Someday.”
“Just waiting for the right man?”
“Something like that.”
“All right, Countess, you have made your point and I have much to mull over. Now please tell me what is in your hands.”
Isabel held up the black garment. “Your breeches.”
Gwen nearly choked. “Breeches?”
“Yes, remember, right before you became ill, you had the seamstresses busy making breeches for the women?”
Gwen frowned. “Yes, yes, I have a vague memory of that.”
“Well, these were made for you, in case you decide to join us at recess.”
Rubbing her temples, Gwen asked, “Remind me again why we decided breeches for women was a good idea.”
“So that they have more freedom during their morning recess. They do not have to worry about displaying more of their legs or worse while they play.”
“Do you wear these breeches?”
Isabel grinned and lifted her skirts. Yes, indeed, she was sporting a pair of these things. She laid the pants at the foot of Gwen’s bed. “We will be gathering in the bailey in a short while, should you decide to join us.” She nodded her head and moved to leave.
“Isabel?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“May I ask a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Can you find Jenny and let her know I have need of her services?”
Isabel smiled. “Gladly. Welcome back, Gwen.”
“Thank you.”
“SO?” Mary asked as the women gathered round.
Isabel shrugged. “We shall see.”
“Whate’er,” Madeline, one of the cooks said. “We thank you for trying.”
“Thank me if it works.”
“What are we doing today, mum?”
“We are playing a thing called baseball. Well, a Camelot version of baseball,” she amended.
As she went to place the four small rushes around the yard, she explained, “We will divide into two teams. The teams take turns being the ones trying to score points and the ones trying to keep the other team from scoring points.
“The team trying to score points will send one player at a time to here,” she said, dropping one of the rushes on the ground. “This is called home base. The player will toss a rock as far as she wants, but try to keep it from heading straight to a member of the other team, who will be scattered around the other bases, trying to defend—”
“Mum!” Mary squealed, then nodded her head toward the far side of the bailey. “The queen. She is coming.”
Sure enough, Gwen came running over, holding up her skirts just enough that Isabel caught a glimpse of black beneath them.
Everyone in the bailey seemed to freeze as they watched their queen join the ladies.
They all curtsied and remained in that position, heads down.
“Please rise,” Gwen said. “We have games to play. So what have I missed?”
JAMES came rushing into Arthur’s working study without knocking. Arthur was about to chastise him for the unannounced interruption, but the look on his man’s face stopped him. “What is it?”
“Sir, you must come see this.”
“What?”
“I cannot explain. Well, I might try, but trust me, you will want to witness for yourself.”
Arthur rose quickly and followed James out the door and through the great hall and out into the bailey.
He stopped short as he watched one young girl running around in a circle while others around her tossed a stone to one another and tried to chase the girl down.
There were squeals of delight and clapping and cheering. It appeared to be some sort of game Arthur had ne’er before seen.
His eyes sought out Isabel, because as certain as he was breathing was he that this was her doing. She was clapping, then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Try for third, Sarah! You can make it!”
The running girl, who was also laughing with glee, touched her foot on a mat of sorts and then kept on running as the stone was thrown all about. “What in blazes are they doing, James?”
“’Tis a game the countess calls Camelot baseball.”
“Camelot baseball,” Arthur repeated.
Over the last several days, he had watched as Isabel had engaged the servants in increasingly stranger and stranger play. This one, by far, was the strangest.
And yet the ladies appeared to be having such fun. “You were right, James, you could not have described this to me. It is too priceless not to see it for myself.”
Without taking his eyes from the bizarre scene before him, he asked, “Is it true that our men seem to be happy with this playtime arrangement?”
“Oh, indeed, sir. They report that their wives and sweethearts seem to be in much happier moods, that they seem to have an extra skip to their steps.”
“Do you see this in Mary?”
“My Mary has always had a skip to her step, but yea, I see her joy and excitement when she tells me of her day. She also reports that productivity in the kitchens, in the laundering rooms and in the sewing room has risen, as the women get back to work with a newfound vigor. I would report, sir, that this recess time appears to be a great success.”
“Leave it to Isabel,” Arthur said, smiling slightly. “She seems to infuse enthusiasm wherever she goes with her creativity.”
He almost laughed out loud at the understatement. As much as he woke each morning, excited to get to work, to start a new day afresh, he also could not wait for night to fall, so that he could join Isabel in her quarters. And ’twas not just the lovemaking that he treasured, but also the times when they lay in each other’s arms, speaking quietly of their days. He found himself more and more seeking her counsel on matters important to him. She was an avid listener, with a quick mind, grasping concepts he was certain she had never needed to confront or consider in the peaceful lands of Dumont.
Her ideas were as inspired as they were—what was that word she used? Oh, yes. Quirky. She often
