ISABEL did a U-turn and ran back into her room. All laughter had ceased as everyone sat still.
"We must move, ladies," she said. "Camelot is under siege, and we are going to help keep those sonofabitches from overtaking us."
"What can we do?" they all said, standing up.
"Gwen, did Lance truly lay fire to all of those poison mushrooms?"
"He did not, as Arthur warned him against fire so close to the cottage. They lay there still."
"Oh, excellent! Please, take Jenny with you as you know the way. Bring back as many as possible. The crushed ones most of all. But please try not to touch them, and if you chew on one, I will kill you before the mushroom does."
She turned around. "Mary, I need you to make wigs."
"Wigs?"
"Fake long hairpieces. Braids. That will work. You need to start with anyone who has long hair. Hell, start with me."
"Oh, Isabel! To what purpose?"
"We are going to fool those assholes. Cut my hair."
Isabel cringed as she felt the shears chop her hair up to her shoulders. "Good," she said, "now go find anyone willing to give hair for the cause."
Isabel didn't even bother to dress, so the shocked looks in the main kitchen were not a surprise.
She explained, as fast as she could, then begged as fast as she could. Every single cook went to work making breads and pastries, simply waiting for the final ingredient before placing them over the fires.
"And mead! Lots of mead. And lace it with the same mushroom as the breads. None of you drink or eat any of this. At least not after you add the mushroom mixture."
She ran to Arthur's study, but he wasn't there. So she turned and ran through the great hall, out the door and into the bailey. There were a ton of men there all geared up and ready for battle.
She looked around and might not have recognized Arthur if she hadn't seen a giant man beside him first, the two of them poring over maps.
She ran over to them. "Arthur, James, we have a plan. By the way, James, happy making-Mary-really-happy day. Anyway, I need about ten scouts to just drop crumbs and such on the way to Camelot."
Arthur took off his head armor, then picked Isabel up and clinck-clincked her back into the castle.
He did not look happy.
"You didn't even listen to the plan," she complained.
"You did not even listen to me. I told you, I want you gone, Isabel."
"But I can help."
"I suppose I was attempting to be nice. I should have been more clear. I am done with you. I want you out of Camelot. You no longer interest me. Be gone."
"I don't believe that for a second. You don't mean that."
"Believe what you want. I do not want you here. Gather Tom, Dick and Harry, and leave. I want you off my lands."
"You know what, tough boy? Tough shit!"
"Please go."
"No, you asshole. I am staying and I will fight for Camelot and you 'til the end. Win or lose."
"If I die, Izzy, I can no longer protect you. If you go, you are out of harm's way."
"And if you don't let us try, then we cannot even help to protect you. We have plans. Arthur, there are more ways than bloodshed. In war, deception is fully acceptable."
"What is your plan, Countess?"
Arthur whirled, Isabel still in his arms.
"Mordred, if you are behind this, there is no love strong enough to overcome how I will punish you," Arthur said.
"I swear, father, I knew naught of any of this."
Arthur nodded. "Your plan, then, is to escort the countess and her men back to Dumont."
"I'm not leaving," she said.
"What is your plan, Countess?" Mordred asked. "Unlike my father, I have learned to listen when you speak."
"We are going to spike the trails leading to Camelot with mushroom-laced foods and drink. We will drop those idiots one mouthful at a time. We might not get all of them, but we will get some. And we will definitely slow them down."
Arthur finally placed her back on the floor. "That is brilliant."
"It is," Mordred said. "You will need scouts to lay the trail of food and drink. I volunteer to head the group."
"Can we trust him, Arthur?" Isabel asked.
"You are a better judge of character than I, Isabel. And I have a bias. He is, after all, my son. What think you?"
She looked into Mordred's green eyes, so like his father's. "I believe that your son loves you. He would be proud to be part of the offensive against those who would harm you. Am I wrong, Mordred?"
"No, Countess. I would protect my father and his lands against all invaders. I know that I said otherwise afore, but 'twas only because I . . ."
"Wanted to hurt him, as you had believed all of your life that he had hurt you."
"Yes."
"And you now realize that isn't at all true."
"Yes. I am so sorry, Father."
"Please believe in me, Son."
"I do, father."
"I believe him. Okay, please round up about ten men who know those trails better than any other. Then go to the baking kitchen and gather the food and drink, and meet me back here in the great hall. There is one other part to this plan the men will probably not like so much. But it could well give you more protection, should you encounter any of these marauders."
"Yes." He turned toward the doors.
"Mordred."
He turned back. "Yes?"
"You are your father's son. No wonder he loves you as much as he does."
Mordred blinked. "I consider that the highest praise I have e'er heard. After all I have said and done - "
"You make up for it in this one great and important deed."
"Thank you, Countess. Father."
"And, Mordred. Do not, and I mean it, do not allow any of the men to give in to temptation and eat or drink your weapons. They are poison, pure and simple."
"Yes." He turned and broke into a run.
Arthur stared at her for a moment. "Would that I had the time to make love to you this very moment."
"Time for that after."
"I hope with all my heart that is true. There is no way I am going to change your mind about leaving, is there?"
"What is, Not a single chance in hell, Alex."
"What happened to your hair, Isabel?"
"It happily sacrificed itself for the cause."
He laid his forehead against hers. "I ne'er knew it was possible to love this desperately."
"And if you don't get back out there and continue planning, you won't know it for long."
"Yes, you are right," he said. He kissed her fiercely, right there in the great hall, for any or all to see. And she was still barefoot in her nightgown.
"Isabel?"
"Yes, Arthur?"
"With all that I am and all that I have, to thee I vow."
"Premature, but so very wonderful to hear. Now go. I have work to do."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You love me."
"Yes, I do."
"And that is the knowledge and fortification I need to fight the battle of my life."
"No more scars, Arthur. Not a single scratch."
"I will do my best to honor that wish."
"It was not a wish. It was a demand."
"Yes, Countess," he said, grinning. "And I cannot wait to be forever at your demand."
She laughed. "Go, smartass."
"One more demand I will honor."
He kissed her one more time, then turned and strode out the door. Oh, how she wished he wasn't already wearing his armor, so she could get one more chance to ogle that incredible butt.
"I love you," he called over his shoulder.
One of his men who had just entered stopped short.
"Not you, Ashton. Her," he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.
The boy gaped at her.
"Ashton! Come."
Isabel laughed as she picked up her nightgown and ran up the front stairway, two steps at a time.
AMAZINGLY, by the time she returned to her chamber, Mary, Gwen and Jenny were already waiting for her.
"What now, Isabel?" Gwen asked.
It amazed her that Gwen had so quickly handed over the decision making to her. But then again, Gwen was so young and probably had never encountered war in her life. Unfortunately, Isabel had.
"Gwen, I need you and Jenny to gather the women and tell them all to don their breeches. Skirts are of no help. And then tell them to arm themselves. I don't care with what. Anything hard and capable of being thrown - "
"As in Camelot baseball?"
"Exactly, but they will need larger rocks than the small stones we used. Or hard tree limbs, swords if they happen to have access to any, anything that could be used as a weapon. Those with strong arms we will station in places where they can knock a man off his horse. Others with weapons such as swords or tree limbs we will place where they can whack the hell out of anyone who comes in reach."
"Women do not engage in battle, Isabel," Gwen said.
Isabel plopped her hands on her hips. "What, you wait for your men to die in battle, and then allow the enemy to do with you what they will? In my land, women fight. We might do it differently than men, but we do not stand by and await the outcome. Do you want to help thwart the enemy, Gwen, or do you want to cower in your chambers and hope for the best?"
"We fight," Jenny said, with a ferocity that was endearing.
"Good. Then go gather the women and tell them to dress and arm themselves appropriately. We will meet in the round-table hall and plan our strategy in, say, a half an hour or so."
She looked at Gwen. "Buck up, Queen Guinevere. Camelot is your land as well. Do you fight for this castle, or not?"
Gwen nodded. "Let us go do as she asks, Jenny."
Jenny left at a run. Gwen, not so quickly.
"The queen is a . . . a . . . What is the proper word, Isabel?" Mary asked, as her hands worked feverishly braiding hair.
"I think the word you're looking for is a wimp."
"Oh, that is a perfect word. Yes, a wimp."
"But we must give her a break. This is all unfamiliar and scary."
Mary looked up from her task. "It is not familiar to you, either, I am guessing. And yet you acted."
Isabel shrugged as she pulled off her nightgown and started to dress. "I cannot stand by and do nothing."
"The king wanted you to leave. Why did you not?"
"How did you know that?"
"Oh, I have excellent hearing. People may whisper two or more rooms away and I will hear every word. 'Tis a gift and a curse, in some cases."
"You are a wonder, Mary. What is not a wonder to me is why James loves you so much. And you, him."
"And why the king loves you," Mary said.
"You . . . overheard something?"
"Oh, please, Isabel. James and I were aware from the moment you arrived. It did not take overhearing to figure that much out. It was apparent by the way your . . . bodies interacted."
Isabel laughed as she pulled on her breeches. "In my land, Mary, we call that body language. I didn't know we were that apparent."
"'Twas apparent to us. But we said not a word to anyone, Isabel. This I swear."
"If there is anything I believe, Mary, it is that. I am a good judge of character, and I knew the moment we met that you are such a good person."
"Then I, too, am a good judge of character," Mary said. "Wear the deep green dress, Isabel. It is the least heavy of the lot and much more easy for you to move around in. And you will more easily blend in with the foliage. Twill not stand out as some of your brighter clothing might. We do not want a target on your back."
Isabel laughed. "You are a treasure beyond measure, Mary."
"I am so glad you think so." Mary looked up from her task. "I love you, Countess Isabel."
"As I do you, Mary," Isabel said, her throat choked with emotion. "This should be no way for any woman to spend her first full day of marriage to her true love."
"If he is to battle this day, it is the only way to spend it. I believe I should like more nights with the big goof."
Isabel laughed again as she managed to lace up her dress on her own. And, of course, Mary had been right. It was the least complicated dress she had, and the easiest to maneuver in. "I cannot blame that logic one bit. I hope your night was all that you dreamed."
"Oh, and more. Much more. That was one big pickle, Isabel."
Isabel almost collapsed. "Mary, you must stop making me laugh so hard." Then she stopped. "I hope he didn't hurt you."
"Oh, no, he was ever so gentle. The king gave him tips on ways to make certain he would not."
"James told you this?"
Mary just shook her head and then tapped her ear. "It appears that James was more nervous than I, last evening. The king attempted to calm him down."
Oh, Arthur. Could she love a man more? "Your vow exchange was beautiful. As were you. I don't blame James for being nervous."
"Well, 'twould seem that the advice King Arthur gave him worked, and worked well. I admit I did not ken much of what he said, but I much appreciate whate'er it was."
She stood up. "Done. I have thirty and two braids. Is that enough?"
"More than. Where did you get all of the hair, Mary?"
"I can be quite convincing when I have the need to be. Now what are we to do with them?"
"I have need of more of your hair skills, Mary. And I very much hope your convincing skills work, because I believe we are going to encounter protests like you have never encountered before."
Mary gathered up the braided hair. "Bring it on, mistress."