Britt stood and fixed her warm cloak before she followed Merlin to the tent.
The past two days had been nothing but a parade of manly faces and endless drilling of names and titles. Sometime between memorizing names and choking down lamb stew Britt had realized that her dream was not like the books. This wasn’t the victorious crowning of the young Arthur where everyone knelt at his feet and adored him.
Merlin was too calculating for that.
Britt’s crowning was going to be a political movement. As King she could chose who to empower and who to weaken. Merlin had every knight, baron, and prince arranged in a manner he saw most fitting. It was Merlin who was pulling the strings. All of the choices were his; Britt was nothing but his puppet.
“Boy!” Sir Ector boomed when Britt entered the tent behind Merlin. (Sir Ector was trying exceedingly hard to befriend Britt. Britt didn’t know if it was to make their supposed relationship believable, or if it was because he was greedy for power.) “Did you get to see a joust? Are you well?”
Britt considered the question more deeply than Sir Ector meant for her to. Was she well? Britt didn’t care if she was the beloved one true king or merely Merlin’s mouthpiece. As long as the man didn’t put her life in danger or compromised her values she didn’t care what happened. This was all just a dream anyway. Besides, how often did one get the chance to rule medieval England? “Yes, I am well.”
Sir Kay slid a glove on his hand. “I will be grooming my horse. You know where to find me when you retrieve the sword, My Lord?”
“Yes,” Britt said.
Sir Kay opened his mouth, as if to say more, but he shook his head and exited the tent.
Britt thoughtfully watched him go. Sir Kay had yet to call her by any name or title besides ‘My Lord.’
“Alright Arthur, let us begin,” Merlin said. He planted a hand on Britt’s shoulder and propelled her outside the tent. Sir Ector followed them.
Knights, squires, spectators, and tournament officials swarmed the area like brightly colored bees. They would be the unknowing audience to the play Merlin had written.
“Sir Kay is grooming his horse, Arthur. You’re his squire, why are you not grooming that beast?” Merlin asked. His voice was a little louder than necessary, but he acted natural enough.
“I’m looking for his sword, sir. I can’t seem to find it,” Britt said, biting her lip in falsified worry.
“What, what?” Sir Ector puffed. “Kay’s sword is missing? Didn’t you bring it with when we left the inn this morning, boy?”
Britt made a show of freezing, her eyes pointed to the sky.
“You left it behind?” Merlin said.
“Maybe.”
Merlin and Sir Ector shared a laugh. “He was probably distracted with all the finery and knights. Well, boy, you had best go and get it,” Sir Ector said, patting Britt on the head—a funny gesture considering Britt was taller than Sir Ector.
“I’ll be quick,” Britt promised before she slipped into the crowd. Merlin was rubbing his hands together with what looked like a desire to grab Britt and yank her out of the flow, but it was too late, she was already out of reach.
“Nosey wizard,” Britt muttered as she traced her way to the dumpy inn she was staying at with her ‘family’. (It was chosen for its ideal location, it was within eyesight of the graveyard where the sword in the stone was held.) “He hasn’t left me alone since I arrived. Guarding his investment probably. It’s not like he didn’t make me walk back and forth from the tournament field to the inn a dozen times yesterday.”
Britt glanced over her shoulder as she left the tournament field and entered the city boundaries. She didn’t see him anywhere, but she was willing to bet Merlin was tailing her.
Britt avoided a flock of chickens and their keeper, meandered past a tailor and his apprentice closing their tiny store, and victoriously found her way to the inn. She made a show of knocking on the door—even though she already knew no one was there. The innkeeper and his wife had closed up the inn as Britt and her knightly escorts left the establishment for the tournament fields.
After a plausible amount of pounding and shouting Britt trotted to the graveyard, uneasily skirting around snow dusted graves to reach the sword in the stone. She plucked it out of the stone and slid it into a scabbard Merlin had hidden behind the stone for the day’s events.
Britt waved to the priest who was standing in the shadows of the church—the Archbishop, he was a great friend of Merlin’s. “I bet I will wake up when it’s confirmed that I am King. It’s been…interesting, but I won’t miss wearing chausses,” Britt decided.