Britt chewed her bread as she appeared to listen to the master huntsman. Britt and the knights and nobles who were riding in the hunt had gathered for breakfast outside for the specific purpose of hearing the master huntsman discuss the various trails his assistants had found and deciding which quarry they should pursue. Merlin had informed her this meeting was called an assembly.
Merlin had also told her that hunting parties used highly technical terminology and she was to stay silent at all times and let her closest knights—Sir Kay, Sir Ector, Sir Ulfius, and Sir Bedivere—answer for her.
“It is better for people to think you to be thoughtful than for you to open your mouth and prove yourself a fool,” Merlin told her when hauling her from her rooms early that morning to hear mass.
Britt fixed an appropriately thoughtful expression on her face, nodding slowly whenever someone looked at her.
Mostly Britt was internally awed at her men’s ability to drink soup for breakfast. The practice was apparently common, but the only thing Britt could stomach was the hearty bread she was supposed to dip in the soup.
Britt’s gaze flickered to the carefully selected party of six soldiers that were to guard her. “Servants” scurried through the keep yard, carrying things from the keep to the horses that were tacked and waiting. No one noticed they carried swords and extra daggers, or that they oddly carried themselves like soldiers in spite of their station.
The kennel boys were organizing their dogs: chase-hounds, a few greyhounds, and some mastiffs. Cavall sat with a kennel boy, although his attention was mostly on Britt. Britt smiled and waved at her dog—Kay had been oddly insistent that one of the kennel boys take Cavall with the second group of chase-hounds and the pack of mastiffs that would be planted halfway through the trail to provide fresh dogs for the hunt. Britt doubted the Cavall would be able to keep up, but Kay said there would be plenty of huntsmen along to take charge of him if he tired.
Britt shifted in her chair and studied the assembly. Gawain and Agravain had been invited to come along. They were enthralled, clinging to the master huntsman’s words. Gareth and Gaheris were too young to come with, but Ywain, Griflet, and a number of other knights were present.
Merlin had limited the number of knights, telling everyone it was unreasonable to have a huge party when one was hunting. Britt’s knights were satisfied only because Merlin promised the hunting excursions would be implemented on a weekly basis. Eventually.
“My Lord,” Sir Ulfius jarred Britt from her observations. “I believe we should pursue the large stag that is traveling north east. What do you think?”
Britt glanced at Sir Kay, who was nodding in support. “I agree,” Britt said as other members of the party murmured in agreement.
“Very well, Milord,” the master huntsman said. “In that case we should set the dog relays along this path…”
Britt carefully shifted in the saddle, making her horse’s white ears flick. “Kay, you’re sure I can’t ride Roen?” Britt uncomfortably asked.
“Roen is trained for war, My Lord. Llamrei is trained for… preservation,” Kay explained, his eyes ceaselessly sweeping through the party. Behind him Britt’s guards did the same thing. “Besides, no knight rides his warhorse on a hunt.”
“I would feel more assured if I had Roen, or my riding helm,” Britt said.
She, Kay, and her guards stood apart from the rest of the hunting party. They were waiting in the fields surrounding Camelot for the last of the hound relay to settle in along the path before they started pursuing the stag through the woods. They were starting south of Camelot and would swing up around it in an arc, traveling north west.
“It’s not yet finished, My Lord,” Sir Kay said.
“I know,” Britt sighed. “Is Merlin in place?”
Sir Kay adjusted his bow. “I informed him of our path before we mounted up. He was dressed most…uniquely. I would assume he is in a location that satisfies him. I believe the hunt is about to begin.”
A huntsman blew a horn, and the hounds bayed as they were released and snuffled their way down the scent path.
“Be careful, My Lord,” Sir Kay said as he cued his mount into a trot.
“I will,” Britt said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid.
Llamrei, the white mare Britt rode, seemed to pick up on her unease as she trotted after the rest of the hunting party. The mare was impressively large, but her gaits were deceptively smooth. She did not prance like the other horses, and she was almost as watchful as Sir Kay.
Britt held her breath when the hunting party entered the woods. She rode on the edge of the party, with her knights but on the outskirts of the group.
When Sir Kay explained the situation to the guards they asked Britt if she would ride on there. “It would be best to guard you when we are not completely surrounded. It makes it easier to recognize friend from foe,” one guard said.