“I’m sorry, Mary,” Isabel said. “I just don’t want the king and queen to be scorned by the people of Camelot.”
“HERE is the rub, ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur said, figuring he wasn’t letting Gwen fall on the sword alone. He knew not what provoked her unhealthy honesty, but if she felt the need to spill to all, he was not allowing her to do it by herself. “I have also found myself deeply in love. ’Twas not meant to happen, I did not seek it out, but the fates decreed it so.
“Can you believe I have fallen for that funny-speaking woman?” he asked, pointing straight at Isabel. “’Tis true. I am desperately in love with Countess Isabel. And Queen Guinevere is in love with another. We are all happy about it. So should one of you set out to harm the queen or the countess while we work out the details to make certain the right men are with the right women, I will invoke my power as king. We have the right to certain mistakes in the past and the right to fix those mistakes to the happiness of all. Should any hold judgment against our women, take a good hard look into your very own hearts.”
“Happiness to all!” James bellowed, holding up his stein. “’Tis what Camelot is about, after all.”
“Happiness to all!” most, if not all, of the guests, called, also holding up their various steins and goblets in toast.
But Arthur noticed that way too many people were now looking askance at Isabel, as if she had sprung straight out of Hades. “Do not,” he warned again, “cast blame against Gwen or Isabel. You do so at your own peril. For the people who know us best will be at our sides. Now please enjoy the rest of the evening,” Arthur said. “And remember to tell the ones you love just how much. Often.”
He jumped down and headed straight to his woman. He probably should have been prepared for the thump to his chest he received upon his arrival. He was not.
“Ow!”
“What were you thinking, Arthur?
“Just, perhaps, some form of happiness that I was honest about my feelings for you?
“Did it even occur to you what might happen to Gwen?”
“Did you not note that ’twas Gwen who made the decision to announce her feelings first?”
“Okay, that’s true. What in hell was that all about?”
“I was not standing over here talking to her. You were. How about you tell me?”
“She wanted to be truthful to the people of Camelot, is my guess,” Mary said. “Do not blame Isabel, as I saw her attempt to stop the queen. Or you answer to me. Your Highness,” she added with a slight curtsy. “Shall I stay, Isabel?” she asked.
“I think I can handle him,” Isabel said with a grin. “But thank you, Mary.”
Mary glanced back and forth between them. “Okay, I shall be right over there with that very large, very strong, very loyal man, in case you have need, Isabel.” She stomped away.
“Why do I feel as if I am suddenly the bad guy, here?” Arthur said.
Isabel shook her head, laughing. “Not the bad guy, Arthur. But why, for crying out loud? You couldn’t just say, ‘I support Gwen, end of story.’”
“Because once she decided to say as she did, my only choice was to announce that I too am in love with another, so the people did not consider her the only one who had broken vows.”
“So it was more for her protection?”
“Not more, but as much. It feels as if . . . I do not know . . . the truth will set you free?”
“Oh, boy, hate to say it, but I have a feeling that in the long run you aren’t going to get the credit for that one. Damn shame.”
“My pardon?”
“Never mind. At any rate, do you feel set free? Because personally I feel about a hundred sets of eyes staring daggers at me.”
“Should any try to harm you, they must go through me first. I love you, Isabel. And, yes, I do feel set free. Hiding my feelings for you does not sit well. I would like to be able to let the world know my true feelings for my true love.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure the Camelot world is now well aware.”
He shrugged. “The ruse is over. We have no need to hide behind closed doors and in public live a lie. That does not sit well with you?”
“I could have lived with it for a while longer.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid for you, you big oaf. This undermines your status as king.”
“I would be happy to turn the crown over to Mordred this moment if it means being free to live the rest of my days with you.”
“Oh, Arthur, don’t you see? That’s exactly the type of thing I don’t want to be responsible for. Camelot needs you. And you, whether you believe or realize it, need Camelot.”
“Not as I need you, Isabel. Camelot is but land. You, you are my heart. You are . . . my everything.”
She laughed, and the musical sound of it, the beauty of her, from the inside all the way to the outer beauty, had his heart pounding.
“You know, witty man,” she said, “if this king thing doesn’t pan out, you have a great future as a songwriter.”
He grinned. “I have absolutely not one clue what that means, but I will just assume it is a good thing, and we can move on from there.”
“Deal.”
“Would you care to move upstairs?”
“While fifty gazillion people are watching every twitch we make? I think not.”
“Later?”
“Oh, definitely. Without question.” She moved closer and whispered in his ear, “In fact, your Highness, should you not appear, there will be dire consequences.”
“Oh, I am frightened. I will—”
“Arthur! Arthur! Please . . . help.”
He turned to see Gwen, distraught as he had ne’er seen her afore.
“What’s wrong, Gwen?” Isabel asked.
“They . . . they have Lance. And they are threatening—”
“Where?”
“In the bailey.”
Arthur ran. “James! Mordred!” he yelled. “I have need of you.” He glanced back. “And, Isabel, you stay put,” he demanded as he realized she was running right behind him and beside Gwen.
“Just try to stop me, big boy.”
Good gods, he was in for the ride of a lifetime with that woman. He could not wait to enjoy the journey.
James and Mordred both caught up to him as they all left the castle and entered the bailey.
Two men were holding on to Lance as he struggled to break free.
“Leave off, Michael, David. Now! Release him.”
“My lord, he has betrayed you!” Michael said. “He must be punished. It is king’s law.”
“Are you deaf?” Isabel yelled. “The king has told you to release him.”
Arthur nearly groaned. “Isabel . . .”
“Well, you did! I heard it! Did you not hear it, Mordred?”
“I did, Countess.”
“James?”
“I, too, heard it. Michael, David, should you defy your king’s order, you are in much more trouble than you care to imagine.”
“Betraying our king is treason,” Michael shouted.
“As is defying his direct order,” James said. “Do you not release this man, you are guilty of such.”
That stopped them. They took their hands from Lance’s arms.
