“And our friends in the kitchens,” Isabel yelled. “And the queen and Jenny and Mary. And all of you, willing to fight for Camelot and all it means to you.”
“I was getting to that Isabel,” Arthur said. “For once, just once, allow me.”
“Sorry.”
He shook his head. “The success yesterday came about because all of you, all of you, took part to keep Camelot safe. I am so proud of everyone and feeling so blessed that I count each and every one of you my friends. I am proud of my son, Mordred, who stepped up to a daunting challenge and succeeded beyond my wildest dreams.”
Isabel looked around, finally finding Mordred standing still as a statue, staring at his father. She smiled. Their relationship was so going to be okay. Better than okay.
“When that day comes that I choose to retire from service to Camelot, I truly believe that Mordred will wear that crown well and continue the legacy that is Camelot.
“To Mordred! And to the men who willingly followed with him to carry out something of a distasteful task!” Arthur said.
“To Mordred and his men!” the people answered.
“Many more of these toasts, and there will be a hall full of lying-down drunk people,” Isabel whispered to Gwen.
Gwen giggled, although her eyes roamed the hall.
Isabel didn’t have to guess who Gwen was seeking out.
“He’s over there, Gwen, by the entrance to the formal dining room.”
Gwen looked over then nodded. “I so wish I could join him, Isabel. As I am certain you wish you could be at Arthur’s side.”
“I know, Gwen. I know. What a sorry pair we are, aren’t we?”
“Or, depending on your thoughts, how lucky we are. We both have men who love us. There are many who cannot claim as much.”
Isabel was stopped cold. “Wow, Gwen. Those are the wisest words I have heard in a long time. It truly puts things in perspective.”
Gwen looked at her. “I was not born with wisdom, Isabel. But I have watched yours over the days and have tried to learn.”
“Damn, I don’t know about my own wisdom, Your Highness, but I can state for a fact that you are a supremely good student.”
“If nothing else, Countess, you are the best model of wisdom I have e’er met.”
Isabel laughed, then hugged her. “We will work this out.”
“And, may I make just one more comment?” Gwen asked.
“Of course.”
“You talk funny.”
Isabel nearly bent over with laughter. “I know. And I thank you for trying to understand what I am saying.”
“What ‘I’m’ saying is how you would actually pronounce it. You cut down your words in such an intriguing manner.”
“Oh, Gwen, you would be head of the class.”
“I will take that as a compliment, although I know not what that even means.”
“Trust me, it’s a compliment.”
“And it is my turn, Isabel, to return the goodness in your heart. It is, as I have heard you say, a ‘pay it forward’ moment.” She thrust her goblet of wine into Isabel’s hands. “Here. Drink this. You might have need.”
And while Isabel stood there, astonished, she watched Queen Guinevere push off from the wall and run to Arthur. She whispered in his ear, and he shook his head adamantly. But apparently Gwen was on a mission, and she was not to be denied. She dragged Arthur to the great table and climbed up, with his help. Then she gestured for him to join her.
Arthur looked over at Isabel with a “what the hell” expression she had no answer for. She shrugged her own confusion, then did as Gwen suggested. She took a major sip of that wine.
“All?” Gwen called out, then waited while those in the hall stopped their merriment to listen.
“I have a confession,” Gwen said, “that needs to be told. You deserve the truth.”
“Do not do this, Gwen,” Isabel yelled, dreading what she feared Gwen’s confession might be.
“That would be ‘don’t do this, Gwen,’ to you, Isabel.”
Arthur broke out laughing. “So you noticed as well?”
“We have all noticed that the countess speaks differently,” said someone in the crowd. “But she speaks wisely.”
“Correct, Christopher,” Gwen said. “Another pouring of mead for Christopher, please.”
“Gwen, what in Hades are you doing?” Arthur asked.
“Correcting a wrong,” Gwen said.
“This is neither the time nor the place.”
“This is the perfect time and place. For all here deserve the truth.”
“Gwen, do not do this. The repercussions.”
“Are something I can live . . . or die with. The lies, no.”
“Good gods,” Arthur said.
“Here is the truth, good people,” Gwen announced. “I have been untrue to the kindest man I have e’er known. Our king.”
Oh, for land fucking sakes, Isabel thought. She feels the need to pour her heart out now? Isabel drained Gwen’s goblet, then asked for another. If there was a time to be drunk, this was it.
“I accept the consequences of this,” Gwen continued. “Should you all decide to punish me, that is up to you. But I will not ever regret or rescind my love for . . . another.”
Arthur planted his hand over her mouth, probably before she helped her executioners pick out just which ropes on which to hang her.
“Who is he?” several shouted. “We will hunt him and exact the punishment!”
“’Tis not treason!” Arthur yelled. “Not when I condoned that love. I knew and gave them full permission to follow their hearts. ’Tis not treason when your king said aye to them. I wanted, desperately, for the two to follow their hearts. Any who would lay harm to either will answer to me. How we resolve the issues will be up to us. This I demand. No harm to either. Is this understood by all?”
“Aye, King Arthur,” many said.
“And while we are at admissions of truth,” he began.
No, Arthur, please! Isabel thought, although she knew he and Gwen were on a truth-telling roll that was not about to end anytime soon.
Arthur glanced over at her first.
“I’ll take Shut the Hell Up Right Now for a thousand, Arthur,” she said.
“What is, no way, Countess?” he shouted back at her.
“Oh, good gods,” she whispered.
Mary ran over to her and grabbed her hand. “’Tis for the best,” she said.
“The best for whom?” Isabel asked.
“For all here. The queen had need to speak her heart. And by the by, you truly do talk funny.”
“Great. And now you are turning on me as well, Mary?”
“Have you not been listening, Isabel? No one is turning on you. All are standing up for you.”
“I’m sorry, Mary,” Isabel said. “I just don’t want the king and queen to be scorned by the people of Camelot.”
“HERE is the rub, ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur said, figuring he wasn’t letting Gwen fall on the sword alone. He knew not what provoked her unhealthy honesty, but if she felt the need to spill to all, he was not allowing her to do it by herself. “I have also found myself deeply in love. ’Twas not meant to happen, I did not seek it out, but the fates decreed it so.
“Can you believe I have fallen for that funny-speaking woman?” he asked, pointing straight at Isabel. “’Tis true. I am desperately in love with Countess Isabel. And Queen Guinevere is in love with another. We are all happy about it. So should one of you set out to harm the queen or the countess while we work out the details to make certain the right men are with the right women, I will invoke my power as king. We have the right to certain mistakes in the past and the right to fix those mistakes to the happiness of all. Should any hold judgment against our women, take a good hard look into your very own hearts.”
“Happiness to all!” James bellowed, holding up his stein. “’Tis what Camelot is about, after all.”
“Happiness to all!” most, if not all, of the guests, called, also holding up their various steins and goblets in toast.
But Arthur noticed that way too many people were now looking askance at Isabel, as if she had sprung straight out of Hades. “Do not,” he warned again, “cast blame against Gwen or Isabel. You do so at your own peril. For the people who know us best will be at our sides. Now please enjoy the rest of the evening,” Arthur said. “And remember to tell the ones you love just how much. Often.”