“’Twas apparent to us. But we said not a word to anyone, Isabel. This I swear.”
“If there is anything I believe, Mary, it is that. I am a good judge of character, and I knew the moment we met that you are such a good person.”
“Then I, too, am a good judge of character,” Mary said. “Wear the deep green dress, Isabel. It is the least heavy of the lot and much more easy for you to move around in. And you will more easily blend in with the foliage. Twill not stand out as some of your brighter clothing might. We do not want a target on your back.”
Isabel laughed. “You are a treasure beyond measure, Mary.”
“I am so glad you think so.” Mary looked up from her task. “I love you, Countess Isabel.”
“As I do you, Mary,” Isabel said, her throat choked with emotion. “This should be no way for any woman to spend her first full day of marriage to her true love.”
“If he is to battle this day, it is the only way to spend it. I believe I should like more nights with the big goof.”
Isabel laughed again as she managed to lace up her dress on her own. And, of course, Mary had been right. It was the least complicated dress she had, and the easiest to maneuver in. “I cannot blame that logic one bit. I hope your night was all that you dreamed.”
“Oh, and more. Much more. That was one big pickle, Isabel.”
Isabel almost collapsed. “Mary, you must stop making me laugh so hard.” Then she stopped. “I hope he didn’t hurt you.”
“Oh, no, he was ever so gentle. The king gave him tips on ways to make certain he would not.”
“James told you this?”
Mary just shook her head and then tapped her ear. “It appears that James was more nervous than I, last evening. The king attempted to calm him down.”
Oh, Arthur. Could she love a man more? “Your vow exchange was beautiful. As were you. I don’t blame James for being nervous.”
“Well, ’twould seem that the advice King Arthur gave him worked, and worked well. I admit I did not ken much of what he said, but I much appreciate whate’er it was.”
She stood up. “Done. I have thirty and two braids. Is that enough?”
“More than. Where did you get all of the hair, Mary?”
“I can be quite convincing when I have the need to be. Now what are we to do with them?”
“I have need of more of your hair skills, Mary. And I very much hope your convincing skills work, because I believe we are going to encounter protests like you have never encountered before.”
Mary gathered up the braided hair. “Bring it on, mistress.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ARTHUR could not believe his eyes. He stared at all of the women gathered around his round table, Isabel standing as she scratched out things upon a piece of parchment, then pointing at one and then another, and handing out what sounded very close to assignments for a battle plan.
“What goes on here?” he asked.
Isabel glanced up while most of the women, all those but Gwen, scrambled to their feet.
“Oh, sit down already,” he said. “Isabel, what is this?”
“This is the round table,” she said calmly, straightening. “We are planning strategy. Is that not what this table was created for?”
“For, for . . .” Oh, gods, ’twas a waste of time to argue with the woman. “Planning what strategy? First you have Mary force braids upon men’s heads, and now you involve women in this fight? What will you not do, Isabel?”
“Allow any to win in their attempt to overtake Camelot. I might be mistaken, but I believe that’s the goal for this day.”
“And you feel it all right to involve the women?”
Isabel looked around the packed table. “Any of you who feel unwilling to join in, raise your hands. If you are at this table against your will, speak up now. You will not be punished, and you are free to go right now.”
Not a single hand lifted, not even Gwen’s.
“I will not allow—”
“You have no choice. Guinevere—last I heard, the Queen of Camelot—has decreed that we may help in this endeavor.”
His outrage almost overruled his admiration. “This is war. This is a man’s battle.”
“This is a battle to preserve Camelot,” Isabel said. “It is up to all of us to join in.”
“You are of Dumont. You are not of Camelot. You have not authority to—”
One by one he watched as every woman at the table stood up again, this time including Gwen. And by the belligerent countenances, he was certainly aware it was not out of respect for their king. Truth be told, the allegiances had most assuredly switched to the woman from Dumont.
“I give her the authority, Arthur,” Gwen said, even as she shook a little. “We are joining in, in our own ways. Every one of us at this table has a man who is heading into harm’s way. We are doing our part, whether you agree or not. Isabel has plans. We are not going to do a single thing to interfere, only to, mayhap, intervene where we are able. Now go back to your plans, and leave us to ours.”
And then, to his utter amazement, the women all began holding up hands, slapping them against one another and saying what he believed to be, “High five.”
Too many things to take in. The most stunning was that this was the very first time Gwen had stood up and countermanded his wishes. She had, while he was not paying attention, grown a backbone. Then again, when she declared that all of the women had a dog in this fight, or a man, as it were, he knew for a certainty she was thinking of Lance, not of him. And he did not care a fig. He cared that the man Isabel was defiantly fighting for was he.
Second, that the women servants were truly and utterly defying him.
And worst of all, that Isabel not only joined in this fight to help save his lands, she had managed to form an army of females to follow her into battle for them.
He knew when he was out-womaned. “Fine,” he said. “You do as you see fit. But, Isabel, if your plans involve bringing any woman into the battlefield—”
“They do not,” she said. “I vow we are doing this in a way that women do best. We are smarter and sneakier than men. Not a woman will be harmed in this fight. I swear. And if we are successful, no men, either. Is that not the goal?”
“That is the goal. But, Isabel? Countess Isabel? A word?” he said, crooking his finger at her.
“I’m guessing I am going to hear more than one. And most of them will be of the swearing kind.”
The women around the table laughed.
“You are right. But words we will have. Now, please.”
“Shall I accompany you, Countess?” Mary said.
Oh, great, now she had people ready to attack him should he make any threatening moves or words against her. His own people. He had definitely lost control of this entire castle.
“No need, Mary,” Isabel said. “Not even Excalibur at his side worries me. However, should my head roll back in here, no longer attached to the rest of my body, you may correctly assume I sadly overestimated my trust in your king.”
“VERY funny,” Arthur said as he dragged Isabel into his study.
“Have Mordred and his men returned yet?”
“They have.”
“The mission successful?”
“He feels so. Although he could not wait to rip those braids from his head. And they were not happy about the dresses.”
