pain.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” Gawain said.
Chapter 8
Northern Visitor
The following day Britt, Sir Kay, and Sir Ector were in the stables, brushing out their horses after a short ride.
“You should let me ride Roen more often, Kay. He’s getting jealous,” Britt said, caressing the neck of her black gelding before taking a comb to Llamrei’s mane.
“The bigger problem seems to be that he is growing fat from a lack of activity,” Sir Ector said, peeking over the stall door to study the gelding.
“Llamrei is the superior riding horse, My Lord,” Sir Kay said.
“Yeah, but isn’t there a death threat against me? Riding a horse that will fight to protect me might be safer,” Britt said.
“Who told you of a death threat, My Lord?” Sir Kay asked.
“Merlin,” Britt said, tossing the wooden comb in a box.
“You two are talking again?” Sir Ector asked, scratching his beard.
“No, he told me before I left on the quest with Sir Gawain, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore,” Britt said.
“Oh. That’s a shame,” Sir Ector sighed.
“What made you come to blows?” Sir Kay asked.
“Let’s just say Merlin has made it abundantly clear to me where we stand,” Britt said.
“On the ground?” Sir Ector said.
“Merlin gave us a similar non-answer,” Sir Kay said, wiping down his horse’s bridle.
“Whatever the cause, I wish you two would end the quarrel,” Sir Ector said. “It’s not good for a King and his Chief Counselor to be at odds.”
Before Britt could reply, a page hurried into the stables. “My Lord,” he said, sketching a bow to Britt. “A guest has just arrived at Camelot. A Royal guest—a lady!” the young boy said, looking horrified.
Britt held back a groan, but couldn’t stop her expression of disdain. “Inform the lady I am busy with kingly affairs and send Merlin to greet her.”
“Merlin already has greeted her,” the page said, his eyes bulging. “She hit him with a club.”
“Never mind, I shall meet this curious lady myself,” Britt said, brushing horse hair from her clothes. “Do either of you wish to join me, Sir Ector, Sir Kay?”
Kay, shy and wary of women as he was, ducked behind his horse and kept brushing.
“I’ll come with you, Arthur. Better to go in strong numbers lest this lady thinks to take something to your head, too,” Sir Ector said, waddling past Britt and Llamrei. “Put away the horses, Kay, would you?” Sir Ector called over his shoulder as he led the way.
Britt looked down at her dirty leather jerkin and boots and grimaced, but she followed Sir Ector—and the page—out of the stables and into the open courtyard between the keep and inner walls.
There she saw Merlin—in his cliché gray cloak—sitting on the steps and holding a hand to his skull. Standing not far away from him—one hand planted on her hip, the other hefting a sturdy looking staff—was a woman with silky brown hair pulled in an elaborate braid. She wore a wine red overdress and a white kirtle, and looked like she was roughly Britt’s age. Her stance was elegant—if not forceful—and her expression was apathetic as she watched Merlin nurse his head.
When Britt entered the courtyard, the woman looked up. The smallest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Arthur?” she asked.
Britt tipped her head in a shallow bow. “I am. Welcome to Camelot, Lady.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, taking a few liquid steps in Britt’s direction. “Brother,” she added before hugging Britt.
Britt tried to puzzle through the implication and stiffened at the close contact. She was surprised Merlin was not swooning—in spite of their argument keeping Britt’s secret was his goal in life. But all of Britt’s questions were answered when the beautiful woman pulled back and gave Britt her hint of a smile again.
“It is I—Morgan le Fay—your half-sister. Our sister, Morgause, wrote to me and told me everything about you,” Morgan said.
Britt’s worry cleared
“Thank you, My Lord,” Gawain said.
Chapter 8
Northern Visitor
The following day Britt, Sir Kay, and Sir Ector were in the stables, brushing out their horses after a short ride.
“You should let me ride Roen more often, Kay. He’s getting jealous,” Britt said, caressing the neck of her black gelding before taking a comb to Llamrei’s mane.
“The bigger problem seems to be that he is growing fat from a lack of activity,” Sir Ector said, peeking over the stall door to study the gelding.
“Llamrei is the superior riding horse, My Lord,” Sir Kay said.
“Yeah, but isn’t there a death threat against me? Riding a horse that will fight to protect me might be safer,” Britt said.
“Who told you of a death threat, My Lord?” Sir Kay asked.
“Merlin,” Britt said, tossing the wooden comb in a box.
“You two are talking again?” Sir Ector asked, scratching his beard.
“No, he told me before I left on the quest with Sir Gawain, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore,” Britt said.
“Oh. That’s a shame,” Sir Ector sighed.
“What made you come to blows?” Sir Kay asked.
“Let’s just say Merlin has made it abundantly clear to me where we stand,” Britt said.
“On the ground?” Sir Ector said.
“Merlin gave us a similar non-answer,” Sir Kay said, wiping down his horse’s bridle.
“Whatever the cause, I wish you two would end the quarrel,” Sir Ector said. “It’s not good for a King and his Chief Counselor to be at odds.”
Before Britt could reply, a page hurried into the stables. “My Lord,” he said, sketching a bow to Britt. “A guest has just arrived at Camelot. A Royal guest—a lady!” the young boy said, looking horrified.
Britt held back a groan, but couldn’t stop her expression of disdain. “Inform the lady I am busy with kingly affairs and send Merlin to greet her.”
“Merlin already has greeted her,” the page said, his eyes bulging. “She hit him with a club.”
“Never mind, I shall meet this curious lady myself,” Britt said, brushing horse hair from her clothes. “Do either of you wish to join me, Sir Ector, Sir Kay?”
Kay, shy and wary of women as he was, ducked behind his horse and kept brushing.
“I’ll come with you, Arthur. Better to go in strong numbers lest this lady thinks to take something to your head, too,” Sir Ector said, waddling past Britt and Llamrei. “Put away the horses, Kay, would you?” Sir Ector called over his shoulder as he led the way.
Britt looked down at her dirty leather jerkin and boots and grimaced, but she followed Sir Ector—and the page—out of the stables and into the open courtyard between the keep and inner walls.
There she saw Merlin—in his cliché gray cloak—sitting on the steps and holding a hand to his skull. Standing not far away from him—one hand planted on her hip, the other hefting a sturdy looking staff—was a woman with silky brown hair pulled in an elaborate braid. She wore a wine red overdress and a white kirtle, and looked like she was roughly Britt’s age. Her stance was elegant—if not forceful—and her expression was apathetic as she watched Merlin nurse his head.
When Britt entered the courtyard, the woman looked up. The smallest hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Arthur?” she asked.
Britt tipped her head in a shallow bow. “I am. Welcome to Camelot, Lady.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, taking a few liquid steps in Britt’s direction. “Brother,” she added before hugging Britt.
Britt tried to puzzle through the implication and stiffened at the close contact. She was surprised Merlin was not swooning—in spite of their argument keeping Britt’s secret was his goal in life. But all of Britt’s questions were answered when the beautiful woman pulled back and gave Britt her hint of a smile again.
“It is I—Morgan le Fay—your half-sister. Our sister, Morgause, wrote to me and told me everything about you,” Morgan said.
Britt’s worry cleared
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