“Nonsense. Arthur is but a boy himself, Gawain is older than he is! As Arthur has no wife, much less children, Gawain must be his heir.”
Britt covered a grimace by drinking more wine. She was greatly relieved when she saw Sir Bedivere climb the few stairs to the dais and bow. She opened her mouth to acknowledge the knight, but she was shocked when he addressed not Britt, but Morgause.
“Queen Morgause, it is a pleasure to receive you here in Camelot. Your presence adds to the beauty of the place,” Sir Bedivere bowed.
“How charming you are. What is your name, good sir knight?” Morgause gaily laughed.
“Bedivere, I am Arthur’s marshal,” Sir Bedivere said.
Bedivere’s statement made Britt sit up straight and pay closer attention. Never before had Sir Bedivere referred to Britt without some sort of honorific.
“Sir Bedivere, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Morgause said.
“If I may ask, My Lady, how long do you mean to stay in Camelot?” Sir Bedivere said.
“As long as my dear brother allows me, I suppose,” Morgause said, smiling beautifully at Britt before she leaned closer.
Britt held her breath to keep from coughing in Morgause’s cloying lily perfume. “An extended stay, then?” Britt asked, briefly rubbing her nose. “I would have thought Lot would summon you home as swiftly as possible,” she said with a sliver of a smile.
Morgause frowned as Sir Bedivere said, “Oh please, My Lady, do stay. All of Camelot would morn if you were to suddenly leave.”
Britt blinked. What? The whole castle was filled with panic and dread the moment it was announced Morgause had arrived! What was Sir Bedivere talking about? Britt chugged the last few sips of her wine and turned to Merlin to make sure he was hearing this. The wizard had his arms crossed and was studying Morgause with narrowed eyes.
Morgause laughed. “And I say again that you are charming and sweet. It is a shame we do not have more knights like you, Sir Bedivere, in Orkney,” Morgause said, leaning forward to draw closer to the knight.
Sir Bedivere smiled in spite of the sudden onslaught of the lady’s perfume. He was silent for a few moments before saying, “It is a bigger shame that Lot was not able to pull the sword from the stone, for then you would be Camelot’s queen.”
Britt dropped her goblet, which hit the wooden dais with a metallic clang before rolling for some paces. She held her hand out, as if she was still gripping her dropped cup, and stared at Sir Bedivere.
Somewhere behind Britt an attendant scrambled for another cup as Morgause pulled back from Sir Bedivere, her smile not nearly as brilliant as she glanced at Britt. “Sir Bedivere, I fear you are speaking unfairly. Arthur is a fine king,” she said, touching Britt’s shoulder.
Britt continued to stare at Sir Bedivere, shaking her head slightly. She was barely aware of the attendant pushing a new goblet filled with wine into her hand before she knocked half of it back in one gulp.
Merlin had abandoned all pretenses of welcoming Morgause and was writing something in a small logbook, looking very much like Sir Kay.
“I suppose, but the realm would greatly benefit if you ruled, My Lady,” Sir Bedivere said.
Morgause again leaned towards Britt. “Perhaps it is a shame that I am married and Arthur is my brother, in that case,” she said, her voice teasing as she leaned into Britt.
Britt stared Morgause down with furrowed eyebrows and a frown creased on her face. The older woman quickly caught on to Britt’s bad mood and pulled back, clearing her throat.
Sir Bedivere blundered further as Britt sipped her wine. “You would make a splendid Empress of Britain, My Lady,” he said, his eyes hooked on Morgause.
Britt pushed aside her herring pie and set her goblet—which was empty again—down on the table with a clack. “That is enough, Sir Bedivere,” she said, her voice void of emotion and inflection.
Sir Bedivere took a step back at Britt’s voice. His eyes were wide with horror and he briefly placed a fist in front of his mouth. “My Lord, I-I don’t know what came over me. My Lord,” he stammered before bowing to Britt and leaving as abruptly as he came.
Britt eyed the knight as he left before she shooed the wine attendant away from her cup.
“Are you displeased, Arthur?” Morgause asked.
“I know you are not an idiot, My Lady, but you sound like a dunce when you ask questions you already know the answer to,” Britt said, staring across the table.
Gareth and Gaheris seemed oblivious to the table’s tension, but Agravain had sunk until he was almost entirely beneath the table. Only his head was visible over his plate. Gawain was staring at his lap, no longer touching his food.