Chapter Twenty-Seven
THE great hall, once again, looked amazing. The fire in the immense fireplace burned bright, the flowers were abundant and awesome, and the aroma in the air was truly delicious, not a single pig or chicken scent in the air.
"Is Ashton ready?" Isabel whispered to Gwen.
"As ready as any man, scared skinny at the thought," Gwen replied.
"And Jenny?"
"She knows nothing. But we had a long talk this day. She is aware that she will never lose her position, no matter the circumstances."
"Does she love him?"
"Do you love Arthur?"
Isabel stared at her.
"All right, that was not fair. I will ask an easier question. Do I love Lance?"
"I truly hope that you do. Because, Gwen, he is so in love with you."
"I do. I do not have a waking moment when I do not think of him. Nor many sleeping moments, for that matter."
"Good. He is a wonderful man. You two were meant to be together."
"Good. Now back to you and Arthur."
"You sound very much like Hester the Jester."
Gwen laughed, then sipped her wine. "That 'take my wife, please,' truly is getting old, do you not think?"
"You have no idea. I mean it, really. You have no idea."
"Now back to you and Arthur."
"How about we not go back to Arthur and me?"
"Isabel, you asked for honesty from me. I am merely asking that you are also as honest. I care for Arthur deeply. I know that I have already wounded him. I would truly hope that no other woman would scar him in that way again."
Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. "My honest answer is that I cannot predict the future, Gwen."
"He loves you, Isabel. Deeply. He has admitted as much to me."
"Fine," Isabel said, turning to face Gwen. "I love him. I love him more than I ever thought was possible. I would walk through fire for that man. Okay? Honest enough for you?"
It was a scene out of a really bad B movie. The music had stopped, the conversation had stopped. Everything in the freaking room had stopped. Except, apparently, Isabel's overly loud tirade.
She looked around, and the one face that stood out was Arthur's. And he was grinning.
"And that," she said to the entire room, "is the final line in that last play we put on in Dumont."
Nobody moved. "Okay, okay, so the play had a cheesy ending. But I didn't write it, so give me a break. Musicians? Please? Or for God's sake, where is Hester?"
"THANKS for stepping in there, homey," Isabel muttered when Arthur brought her a fresh goblet of wine.
"'Twas in a bit of shock. I did not realize that you put on plays in Dumont."
"Well, we do."
"And 'twas not a cheesy, as you say, ending to me. Sounded much more of a love story."
"Could be."
"One about a woman professing her love for a man."
"Could be."
"A woman who would walk through fire for her man."
"So you got the gist. Your point?"
"I would also walk through fire for my woman."
"And who would she be?"
"Take a wild guess. I give you two chances, and the first better not be Pix."
Her irritation sort of disappeared. Fast. "I am so sorry, Arthur," she said, finally looking up and facing him. "I never meant those words for anyone's ears but Gwen's."
"I know this. Do you know how proud and happy I am that the entire hall happened to overhear?"
"How is that possible? I could have just put both you and Gwen in jeopardy."
He shook his head. "No. We are soon to be free."
"Are you nuts?"
"I would hope those would be walnuts. I would kiss you mindlessy right now, but I made a promise to you earlier and must needs fulfill it."
And he did. He loped to the large table and jumped up on it, without using a single bench or chair.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Camelot, please have a listen."
The entire hall went eerily quiet.
"We have so many reasons to celebrate this night. We will begin with an important one. Ashton? Where be you?"
"I am here, my king," a voice came out of the crowd.
"Then get your bloody ass over here."
Arthur looked around. "Jenny, where are you?"
It just so happened Jenny was very near to Isabel. Isabel inched over. "Go with it, Jenny."
"May I have a sip of your wine, Countess?
"You mean Isabel. My name is Isabel."
"May I, Isabel, have a - "
Isabel thrust it at her. "Slug down all you want. Just remember that the word you need to pronounce correctly is 'yes.'"
Jenny did a great job of glugging. In fact, she completely drained Isabel's glass. Then she stood up tall, looking back once. "The word is?"
"Yes," Isabel said, nearly laughing.
"What is the question going to be?"
"Let it be a surprise," Isabel said, as she pushed the girl farther toward the table. "Just answer yes."
Jenny held up a thumb, "Got it, Isabel."
"WILL you exchange vows with me, Jenny? Will you agree to be my wife?"
Jenny looked back to that corner of the room to see both the countess and her queen nodding fervently.
"Yes," she said. "I want, very much, to be your wife."
Ashton stood from his bended knee. He pulled her to him and said, "Good gods, woman. What took you so long?"
"I wanted to be certain you meant it," she said.
Arthur bowed his head and chuckled, then glanced over at Isabel and Gwen, and smiled. They smiled back at him. Good gods, the women in his life. He did not know whether to feel blessed or afraid. Possibly he should feel a bit of both.
AFTER the celebration for Ashton and Jenny settled, Arthur again stood up upon the table.
"We have more to be thankful for this evening. We have peace without any Camelot blood shed." A roar from the crowd almost had Arthur wanting to cover his ears. He attempted to settle down the shouts by moving his arms up and down.
"Please, I care for my hearing and yours," he said. "A very, very low roar would be welcome. May we practice that?"
He received just as he asked.
"Excellent. Now, we had Countess Isabel to thank for much of this. Her quick thinking helped us."
"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."