Embittered: King Arthur and Her Knights, page 1
Embittered
Book 3 of King Arthur and Her Knights
By: K. M. Shea
a Take Out The Trash! Publication
Copyright © K.M. Shea 2013
EMBITTERED
Copyright © 2013 by K. M. Shea
Cover design by Myrrhlynn
Edited by Jeri Larsen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historic events is entirely coincidental.
www.kmshea.com
Table of Contents
Character List
Chapter 1: The Arrival of Lancelot
Chapter 2: A Quest
Chapter 3: Scouting Fun
Chapter 4: Trapped
Chapter 5: A White Knight
Chapter 6: Going Home
Coming Soon
Character List
Agravain: the second son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Ban: One of two kings who marched with Britt against Lot and his allies. He is from France, is well groomed, and is said to have a son who is an impressive knight.
Bedivere: A knight Britt met in London when she was crowned King. Britt chose him as her marshal on an impulse, without any input from Merlin. Bedivere is the only knight in Britt’s close circle who does not know she is a girl.
Bodwain: Britt’s constable and one of Merlin’s Minions.
Bors: One of two kings who marched with Britt against Lot and his allies. He is from France, although he appears to be half bear. His two sons are said to be gallivanting around with King Ban’s son.
Ector: the man who was selected to be Arthur’s foster father. He has taken a similar role in Britt’s life.
Gaheris: The third son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Gareth: The youngest son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Gawain: The eldest son of King Lot and Queen Morgause of Orkney.
Griflet: A young, ignorant knight who is related to Sir Bedivere and is close friends with Ywain.
Guinevere: The daughter of King Leodegrance whom Britt dislikes thanks to modern King Arthur stories and legends.
Igraine: Mother of the real Arthur. Uther Pendragon was her second husband.
Kay: Britt’s seneschal and supposed foster brother. He takes Britt’s safety seriously and is often seen writing in a log book.
Lancelot: The only son of King Bors whom Britt despises thanks to modern King Arthur stories and legends.
Leodegrance: King of Camelgrance, one of Britt’s first allies.
Lot: King of Orkney and Britt’s worst enemy. He rallied kings and knights and led them to battle before Britt and her allies overthrew him.
Maleagant: A duke and friend of King Ryence.
Merlin: Britt’s chief counselor who is also responsible for yanking Britt back through time. He openly uses Britt to accomplish his dream of uniting Britain.
Morgause: Daughter of Igraine and Arthur’s half sister. She is married to King Lot of Orkney and has four sons: Gawain, Agravain, Gaheris, and Gareth.
Nymue: The beautiful Lady of the Lake who “gave” Excalibur to Britt.
Pellinore: A noble-looking king who attacked Britt with King Lot, King Urien, and King Ryence.
Ryence: A cowardly king who attacked Britt with King Lot, King Urien, and King Pellinore.
Ulfius: An older knight who once served Uther Pendragon and now serves Britt as her chamberlain. He is one of Merlin’s Minions.
Urien: the brother-in-law of King Lot and a King in his own right, Urien fought with Lot, Pellinore, and Ryence against Britt but has since become Britt’s vassal because he believes she holds his son, Ywain, hostage in Camelot.
Uther Pendragon: Considered to be one of the greatest kings of England. He is the real Arthur’s father and died some years ago—leaving all of his lands and money to Arthur.
Ywain: The only offspring of King Urien. He swore loyalty to Britt after being captured by her men and has revered her ever since. Morgause is his aunt.
Chapter 1
The Arrival of Lancelot
“The sword he pulled, the crown he wore, and he just a fair-faced youth, hah! Fair-faced youth, my horse’s rear end,” Britt said as she gnawed on a hunk of crusty bread and recited a line from the newest ballad echoing through Camelot.
Llamrei, Britt’s white mare, looked up from grazing.
“No offense,” Britt said.
The mare went back to eating.
“I’ve been here a year and a half. How old am I supposed to be now? Sixteen or seventeen? This ploy won’t last much longer,” Britt said. “Bedivere and his ilk have hinted since Christmas that I need to find a wife. Merlin won’t be able to distract that faction much longer, and even I have heard some of the disparaging rumors about my unwillingness to grow facial hair.”
It was, in fact, Bedivere’s hinting that drove Britt from her courts that fine afternoon. Bedivere had set his young cousin Griflet after Britt to sing songs about a rich king who did great deeds on behalf of his beautiful wife. Of course, whenever Griflet started a game of Badger Britt, Ywain—Sir Ywain now, Britt had knighted him at the New Year—was sure to join in as well.
Favorable things could not be reported of Ywain’s singing voice, so avoiding the duo became Britt’s greatest ambition.
Britt rolled onto her stomach so she could look at Camelot. The immense castle was well within eyesight, perhaps even within shouting range. Britt was splayed near the edge of the forest that impeded on Camelot’s land, surrounding about half of the castle.
Britt turned and waved, certain Sir Kay was watching her through a spyglass as he hadn’t sent a squad of guards after her…yet.
Britt finished her bread and smashed her face in the clover-covered ground. “I am pathetic. I’m a college graduate living off the taxes of others. I never thought my future career path would involve impersonating a teenage boy-king.”
Britt would never be able to forgive the real Arthur for running off with a shepherdess. Since Arthur eloped and disappeared, Merlin was forced to cast a spell on the Sword in the Stone so that the next person who touched the sword and would be able to pull it out—meaning they had the qualities the sword was looking for—would be brought back through time to be crowned King of England.
Britt was the unfortunate candidate the sword chose.
She arrived, American, female, and older than Sir Kay—Arthur’s older foster brother—but Merlin had faith in his spell and decided to use Britt anyway. It worked at first; Britt could pass off as a tall but slender 15-year-old boy, and to Merlin’s delight, Britt was extremely skilled in the art of swordsmanship thanks to her interest in Renaissance Mixed Martial Arts.
However, even with the rumor that Arthur/Britt had faerie blood—making her more elegant and beautiful than the average male—sooner or later, Britt’s cover would be blown. (After all, it was only a matter of time before Britt’s knights demanded that she marry and produce an heir for the good of the kingdom.)
“I hate tradition,” Britt said.
“My Lord?”
Britt pushed herself off the ground and had Excalibur unsheathed in the blink of an eye.
A knight stood a stone’s throw away. He wasn’t one of Britt’s knights—Britt didn’t recognize the coat of arms painted on his shield. He wore a helm, obscuring his face, but he had the kind of armor most knights who fancied themselves chivalrous preferred—serviceable but elaborately decorated.
“Can I help you?” Britt asked. A glance at Camelot confirmed her suspicions of Sir Kay and the spyglass: the gates were opening to let out a squad of mounted guards.
“I was only wondering if you were well,” the knight said. “You seem burdened.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Britt said, relaxing her stance but not sheathing Excalibur. “I’m no more burdened than any other man.”
“That’s hardly accurate, My Lord. As King, you have a great many more burdens,” the knight objected.
Britt walked to Llamrei and patted the mare’s neck. “And how do you know me to be a king?”
“I have seen you before, My Lord. We met once in the woods when you found a lost girl, and I saw you when you first pulled the Sword from the Stone in London,” the knight said.
“I remember the girl,” Britt said. “She was the one who inspired me to build public bath houses in Camelot.”
“That is so, My Lord,” the knight said, bowing slightly at the waist.
“From whose courts do you hail?” Britt asked, glancing at the incoming soldiers. They set their pace at a canter and would be on Britt soon. Britt raised an arm and signaled that all was well. The soldiers slowed their mounts to a walk but kept coming.
“My father’s, I suppose, but I have pledged my allegiance to none yet. Do you desire to run me off your lands?” the knight said.
“You aren’t stirring up trouble are you? Badgering my subjects, stealing food and such?” Britt asked, confident he would answer no. Her people would have let her know if recreant knights were terrorizing them. During the past fall, the first, and only, knight who ever plagued her people refused to let anyone pass over a bridge.
“No, My Lord. I travel with my cousins, performing deeds for the wellness of mankind,” the strange knight said.
“In that case, I don’t care,” Britt said, nodding to her guards as they spread around her in a fan formation, not intruding on the conversation but drawing close enough to spring into action should the need arise.
“I thank you for your generosity, My Lord,” the knight said, pulling off his helm.
Britt was amused to see that he was handsome and young, falling somewhere between Gawain’s age of 18 and Kay’s age of 21. His black, curly hair was just a little shorter than Britt’s, falling almost to his shoulders. He had dreamy green eyes and thick lashes most women would kill for. His jaw line was curved and his facial features angular. Had he been American and from the twenty-first century, Britt could have mistaken him for a celebrity.
Britt was delighted to see his face—and not because he was handsome, as he was too young for her taste—but because of one very important fact.
He was beardless.
The young knight shaved, unlike the majority of Britt’s court. Even Griflet and Ywain were trying to grow scrawny beards with ill success. Britt and Merlin were the only clean-shaven officials in the whole castle.
Britt chuckled and sheathed Excalibur before she gathered Llamrei’s reins.
“Is something the matter, My Lord?” the knight asked, puzzled.
“No. Nothing at all. I have suddenly been struck by a capital idea. It was good to talk to you, sir. As long as you remain on the path of the chivalrous, should you find yourself in need of anything, please come to Camelot,” Britt said before she boosted herself onto her mare’s back.
“I thank you for your kindness and generosity. May all be well with you, King Arthur,” the handsome knight said.
Llamrei chomped on the bit as Britt swung her in Camelot’s direction. “Thank you, and you as well,” Britt said, cuing Llamrei into a swift trot.
Britt’s guards surrounded her in an instant. “Where to, Milord?” the guard captain asked.
“Back to Camelot. I must speak with Merlin and our associates immediately. I have the most brilliant plan!”
When Britt entered Merlin’s study, the attractive wizard was sitting in a comfortable armchair, yawning. Sir Ulfius was with him, looking at the ceiling with a great amount of dread. Sir Ector nursed a glass of wine and avoided Britt’s eyes as she slammed her open hand on one of Merlin’s wooden tables, making a loud crack.
“I have it.”
“You have what?” Merlin asked, gesturing for Sir Kay to close the door behind him when he slipped in after Britt.
“A way to make my knights accept the notion that I shave,” Britt said.
Merlin frowned. “You are King. You do not need a reason.”
Britt shook her head. “As long as you and I are the only supposed males in this castle with beardless faces, there is going to be suspicion,” she paused. “Where is Sir Bodwain?”
“Keeping Sir Bedivere busy so he doesn’t poke his head in the study just as we’re discussing your feminine nature,” Sir Ulfius said.
Merlin crossed his legs at the ankles and sighed. “Alright, let’s hear your idea, My Lord,” he said without any expectations.
“Rather than attempting to explain it, why don’t we make it a court fashion for men to be clean-shaven?” Britt asked.
Sir Ector choked on his wine.
“My Lord,” the normally well spoken Sir Ulfius started. “Facial hair is, well, custom. Once a boy becomes an adult—like a squire getting knighted or an apprentice becoming a master—it is a sign of manhood to grow facial hair and it aids with…um…heat retention and…”
“What Ulfius is trying to ask is do we have to?” Sir Ector said, his face turning the same fetching shade as a crimson tomato.
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean the older knights. Heavens, no. Some things should not be seen by the light of day. No, I meant the younger knights. Perhaps all knights who are unmarried,” Britt said.
Sir Kay shifted, the thick mustache on his upper lip twitching.
“With some exceptions of course,” Britt amended.
Merlin rubbed his chin. “It is an interesting proposal, and it certainly holds promise. But how do we make it a court fashion?”
“The church could make a proclamation that all unmarried knights must shave,” Sir Ector suggested.
“Yes, they could, and they would be willing to, but what would they tell the people when asked why they’re making the proclamation?”
“It is an, erm, idea from God?” Sir Ector said.
“One would have more luck making it common if the knights adopted the practice in their own will,” Sir Ulfius said.
“To make it fashionable, it would take a man everyone loves,” Merlin said. “Right now, there are no such knights in your court. You are the favorite of all.”
“It can’t be me,” Britt said. “I’m already beardless, and no one is following my example. Our fashion icon must be a man that knights imitate out of admiration or jealousy,” Britt said.
“A fashion icon?” Sir Ulfius asked.
“The court favorite,” Merlin supplied.
“I see. We must have a beloved knight take the first step and shave, is that it?” Sir Ector asked.
Merlin looked to Sir Kay.
Sir Kay raised his brows and shook his head no.
“Agreed,” Merlin said to Sir Kay’s silent refusal. “No one much likes you anyway since you keep a tight guard around Arthur.”
Britt sighed and sank into an open chair. “The knight who gave me the idea would have been perfect. He was clean-shaven and as handsome as they come.”
“Who was it?” Merlin asked in interest.
“I didn’t ask,” Britt said.
“Britt, you should know better. Names and relations are important,” Merlin scolded.
“I didn’t ask on purpose. As soon as I knew who he was, I would have to worry about offending whatever second or fifth cousin of his lives in my courts,” Britt said.
Sir Ector muffled a crow of laughter as Merlin scowled.
“If I might venture to change the subject,” Sir Ulfius said.
“I suppose—as long as we have no model knight, my idea isn’t much good. What’s on your mind, Sir Ulfius?” Britt asked.
Sir Ulfius pressed his fingers together. “I have located the Round Table you so greatly desire.”
“Really? That’s fantastic!” Britt said, flashing the older knight a brilliant smile.
Britt had always disliked stories about King Arthur—she hated Lancelot the back-stabbing best friend with a vengeance and found the courtly romances to be trite—but as one of her close friends in future America was an avid fan, Britt wasn’t able to entirely escape stories about the famous king. As such, she knew vaguely of some of the more famous parts of Arthurian lore, like the Round Table.
“I suppose so,” Sir Ulfius reluctantly said.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sir Ulfius. The Round Table is a big deal. Thank you for finding it. Where is it?”
Sir Ulfius shifted and avoided looking at Britt. “I have discovered that it was given to King Leodegrance by Uther Pendragon. He still has it.”
“Leodegrance? That’s even better news. He’s been our ally since I was crowned king, and he owes us after Sir Bodwain and King Ban and King Bors saved him from that weasel King Ryence,” Britt said. “He’ll let us buy it off him. Have you asked what he wants for it?”
“I know you have your heart set on the table, so I had one of my comrades from Uther’s court make an inquiry on your behalf,” Sir Ulfius said.
“And?”
Sir Ulfius sighed. “His requirement is that you would take his daughter, Guinevere, as your wife.”
“Not an option. Ask him how much gold he would like,” Britt said.
Sir Ulfius shook his head. “He informed my comrade marriage was the only way he would see the Round Table removed from his halls.”
