Britt was glad she had agreed. The hunting party seemed like a mad scramble. “It would be easy to get trampled if you fell off your horse,” Britt muttered as she ducked a tree branch.
The bay of the hounds was a howling chorus and the stamp of horse hooves was a drum beat as they followed the scent path and tracks of the stag. The huntsmen were grim men popping in and out of view in their green clothes compared with Britt’s merry and lighthearted knights.
Britt had a hard time keeping a smile on her face as every shout of joy and dog’s howl seemed like a beacon to her would be assassins. Merlin had told her time and time again the previous day that she had to act normal. She couldn’t appear to be nervous.
That order seemed especially hard as the biggest thing Britt wanted to do at the moment was throw up what little bread she managed to eat, turn on her heels, and run back to Camelot.
Facing down an enemy on the battlefield was one thing. There she stood a chance with her sword skills. Riding through a forest where she was utterly defenseless against a sniper assassin? That was enough to set Britt’s sense of fear on fire.
Britt forced herself to sit deeper in the saddle as she straightened her spine and flashed a smile at Gawain and Ywain as they rode past. “I won’t let Lot win,” she decided.
The first hour of the hunt passed. They stopped to water horses and gather new dogs.
“How are you fairing, My Lord?” Sir Kay asked.
“As well as could be expected,” Britt said, patting Llamrei’s neck.
Sir Kay ducked closer for the merest moment. “You hide your fear well, My Lord,” he said before mounting up when the horn sounded again.
Britt followed his example and slipped onto Llamrei’s back, turning around to nod at her soldiers.
“If we don’t bay the stag in another hour you’ll need to switch mounts. I hoped to keep you on Llamrei,” Sir Kay said as they trotted along.
“I imagine it will be soon,” Britt said.
Sir Kay shook his head.
Fear curled around Britt’s neck like an animal as the hunt continued. She smiled and joked with her knights, but her heart beat erratically in her chest. Her guards remained clustered around her, watchful and dedicated.
“Maybe it won’t be today. Maybe Lot changed his mind,” Britt muttered.
Something in the forest roared.
“My Lord,” the guards said, crowding around Britt.
A huge boar charged through the forest, streaking past the hunting party. The hounds went wild, abandoning the stag’s trail to give chase to the boar.
A second boar—this one enraged and snorting—plunged through the heart of the hunting party.
Some knights hauled their horses out of the way—for a boar could kill a dog, horse, or even a man—others crowded forward to get a shot at the animal.
“Did anyone hit it?”
“Which one?”
“Either!”
“After the dogs, the boar will kill them all if it stops!”
“Blast those servants, where are the spears?”
“We haven’t any, we were stag hunting, not boar hunting.”
“We can’t disassemble now, we must finish the hunt!”
The party was in mass chaos as Britt’s guards manage to pull her away from the mess without attracting attention. “It is best if they settle down before we rejoin them, Milord,” the guard captain said as Britt watched some of the huntsmen chase after the hounds.
Sir Kay was briefly visible in the mad scramble of noble hunters, and Britt waved at him to show she was fine. She then pulled Llamrei in a circle—a decision that saved her life.
A short shafted, black arrow pierced the ground Britt had just stood in.
“Protect the King,” a guard bellowed.
The soldier closest to Britt ripped a shield off his horse’s rump and tossed it to Britt. Britt caught it, slipped her arm through the arm bands, and held it above her head. The shield thumped and vibrated. Britt almost clocked herself in the head with it when arrows hit the metal surface with a great deal of force, but nothing hit her or Llamrei.
One of Britt’s guards fired off an arrow, and a man screamed as he dropped from a tree.
“Take prisoners!”
“To the King!”
A guard flung himself from his horse, attacking a man who was dashing for Britt. Another guard shot a second assassin out of the trees.
The hunting party—those who hadn’t run off after either of the boars—finally realized what was going on. Men roared and drew their swords.
“To King Arthur!” one knight yelled, his sword raised in the air.
“Stop!” Sir Kay shouted. “If you rush him in a mad group—,” his words were lost in the clamor as the knights rode to protect their sovereign.
“Halt!” the guards around Britt roared at the oncoming rush. They were grim as they set themselves between Britt and the assassins and the hunting party.
At that moment Britt understood their desire to keep her separated. Britt knew the knights that were in the hunting party. She was friends with them, but at that moment the hunting party was a swirl of chaos, and it would be easy for a covert assassin to sneak in and bum rush her with her would be protectors.