“No. Why should one? Knights only serve in times of war,” Guinevere sniffled.
Britt frowned for a moment. Now that she thought of it, Guinevere was right. In Camelot all the young knights who were supposed to be off questing and having adventures hung around the courts. The knights who were older and married were at home, seeing to their families and lands.
Lancelot and his piggy cousins, in fact, were the first knights Britt had come across who had gone on quests—if one excluded King Pellinore and his romps after the Questing Beast.
Why was that?
From what Britt could recall, chivalry and questing and doing great deeds for King Arthur or a favored lady was the very foundation of the Round Table.
Guinevere stood, fumbling to push her wild hair over her shoulder. “I thank you for your kindness, gardener, but I must depart. I have much to prepare for,” she said, her lower lip trembling.
Britt studied the genuinely upset princess. This was not the falsified moroseness she had tried to trick Britt with earlier in the day. Guinevere was struggling. “Have hope, My Lady,” Britt said.
Guinevere laughed harshly. “Hope in what?”
“In mankind.”
“Mankind is no comfort. Every man only cares for himself. Those of us who are weak, those of us who are powerless will never be saved.”
“Then hope for a future where that is not so. Hope that somewhere in Britain there is a person who is willing to fight for the weak and the powerless,” Britt said.
Guinevere turned to face the keep, placing her back to Britt. “If such a person, no, if such a being existed, whether they be faerie, man, woman, or saint, life would not be like this,” she said. “Good night, gardener.”
Britt watched the princess leave. “This country needs King Arthur. The real King Arthur, not a fake. They need a hero.”
“There is something on your mind.”
Britt stirred at Merlin’s words. “It is nothing. I’m just tired.”
It was mid morning. King Leodegrance had a few scant hours to make his decision. Merlin had sent Gawain and Lancelot up the castle walls to see if they could spy any sign of an army—Britt’s or Maleagant’s. With their merchant host gone to see what kind of profit he could turn in the chaos, Merlin and Britt were alone in the small home.
“No,” Merlin said. “When you are tired you yawn more and shut your eyes. You are thinking.”
Britt stared at Merlin in surprise, eliciting a smile from the cunning man. “I know your habits, lass. You can’t hide much from me. Now, what is the problem?”
“This is wrong. Guinevere being forced by her father to marry Maleagant or me, Maleagant cornering Leodegrance, it’s all wrong.”
“The world is filled with evil men, lass. Not everyone is as good of a person as you are. Camelot is blessed that the Sword in the Stone chose you as King,” Merlin said.
“I know that. Not about me, about bad people. I know some people are just downright evil, that’s not what I’m protesting. Where are the champions? There should be a dozen knights doing good deeds in Guinevere’s name. My lands shouldn’t be the only ones free of trouble. Why aren’t knights doing anything?”
“You mentioned something similar to Ywain months ago. What do you mean?” Merlin thoughtfully asked.
“In my time most of the stories and legends about King Arthur are about his knights. They were always off doing a good deed or following some long-winded quest to bring honor to their name, their lord’s name, or their lady’s name. They served people.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not like that, lass,” Merlin said.
Britt twirled a lock of hair around her finger and thought. Ywain wasn’t the only person she had discussed the role of kings, knights, and courts with. She had a similar talk with his aunt, Queen Morgause. Before the Orkney queen left Camelot after an extended stay, Britt promised that she would try to improve the living conditions for mankind—women in particular.
Since making that promise she had done very little to make it a reality.
Yes, this was her chance to change history, to kick out Lancelot and avoid Guinevere altogether. But the sound of Guinevere’s heartbroken cries and her hopeless laugh echoed in Britt’s ears. Britt opened her eyes. “Then I will make it be so.”
A slow smile spread across Merlin’s lips. He leaned in so close Britt could feel his breath on her face. “There’s my red dragon. What did you have in mind, oh King?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Try me.”
“I’m going to challenge Maleagant.”
“WHAT?”