“Don’t ride off for a day again,” Merlin warned before he started walking away.
“I won’t,” Britt said before turning to face Morgause’s sons. “Aren’t you all a cheery bunch?”
The four boys looked up at Britt.
Gawain shrugged. “We do our best to stay out of the way,” he said.
“That must be dead boring. Come on.”
Gareth and Gaheris shot off the bench and attached themselves to Cavall. The mastiff sighed but let them hug his shoulders.
“Where are we going?” Gawain asked.
“To the practice fields. I need to do a bit of stretching, and Excalibur is hurting for a fight,” Britt said.
Agravain frowned. “You just told Merlin you were going to see your horse.”
“I lied,” Britt cheerfully said.
The four brothers grinned to each other as Britt led the way outside.
Chapter 4
The “Sable” Knight
Britt smiled as the sun warmed her face. She snuggled further into her couch—Merlin insisted it was a couch; as it was nothing but a large pile of rushes with a fancy blanket thrown over it Britt doubted this—and reveled in the silence and peace.
“We should make it back to Camelot by tomorrow afternoon,” Merlin said, walking past Britt’s napping couch.
“That’ll make Arthur sorely disappointed,” Sir Ector said, his voice hushed.
“Arthur is lucky he had a Morgause-free holiday at all. He’ll be fine,” Merlin briskly said.
“It was a good thing you did for Arthur, Merlin. Finagling lords and such so Arthur could leave Camelot for a bit. Well done,” Sir Ector said, smacking Merlin on the back.
It took all of Britt’s will to keep her eyes closed and breathe deeply as if she were still dosing.
Several days ago Merlin had announced that Britt had to leave Camelot to settle a dangerous dispute between two barons in the south. The barons were a two to three day ride away and they would be adopting a grueling pace to travel at so naturally Morgause could not come. They left Sir Kay in charge and traveled south with a band of knights, more at a care-free pace than grueling.
Britt thought it odd that the urgent dispute—a squabble over land rights—took only a day to right, and that they were taking their sweet time returning to Camelot.
“When you say it like that it sounds like I’m going soft. It was for purely selfish reasons that I arranged for our travels south,” Merlin insisted.
Sir Ector belly laughed. “Of course, Merlin. Whatever you say. Lo, what’s this?”
“I’m not sure, but he looks badly hurt,” Merlin said, marching off.
When Britt opened her eyes Merlin and Sir Ector were halfway across the meadow they were camped in. At the edge of the forest was a mounted knight and his squire. The knight was tipping in the saddle and blood dripped from a nasty wound on his leg.
Britt’s guards rushed to aid and apprehend the knight, and Merlin started questioning the squire.
Britt rolled off her couch and stood, brushing at her clothes and fixing her hair. She took a drink of water and ate a hunk of squashed bread before she judged enough time had passed that Merlin had very likely gotten most of the story out of the squire—no sense listening to the entire dramatic and traumatic tale when she could get the reader’s digest version—and started meandering towards them.
“Arthur, this young esquire has been telling me of his master, Sir Myles. He just came from fighting the Sable Knight. The Sable Knight speared him and took his shield before hanging it on the branches of an apple tree—which is covered with hanging shields—and rode away without inquiring to Sir Myles if he was in need of aid,” Merlin said.
Britt did not have to fake the sorrow and anger she felt. “That is horrible. It is dishonorable and black hearted to leave a fallen knight on the ground.”
“It is even more dishonorable to take away the shield of a fallen knight who fought well,” Merlin added, making the squire nod vigorously.
“You people have wonky priorities,” Britt grumbled. “Are we properly aiding the knight?” Britt asked, peering over the swarm of her men that moved around Sir Myles in an organized fashion.
“To the best of our abilities, yes. The problem is that he has lost a great deal of blood,” Merlin said.
“My Lord, if I may approach you?”
Young Griflet nervously rubbed his hands as he stood before Britt. Ywain stood some feet behind him, cheering his friend on.
“What is it, Griflet?” Britt asked.
Griflet squared his shoulders. “I ask that you would knight me, My Lord, so I may ride off and meet this Sable Knight and thrash him.”
“No,” Britt said before turning back to the squire.
“My Lord,” Griflet protested.
Merlin elbowed Britt and shook his head.