The Fire of Merlin (The Return to Camelot #2)(8)

“I’d be more worried about the damn thing holding together, more than anything else,” I snapped back. Slurpy just scowled, as Arthur stroked his car and told it to ignore his horrible sister.

The knights were all standing back. It was clear they weren’t sure about these gleaming metal beasts, as Tristram had described them.

“This is how we travel in our time,” I explained. “Cars are faster than horses.”

“But pray tell, where are the reins?” asked David.

Arthur opened the door - the rusty hinges creaked and groaned - and turned the engine over. “Trust me,” he said.

The knights had no choice. Tristram, Gareth and David climbed into the back seat – Slurpy refused to give up the front passenger seat, even though they were all taller than her – and after much jabbing of swords and knocking of elbows, they were settled in. Arthur was near to tears after spending ten minutes trying to get them to put their seat belts on correctly.

“It’s the law, Tristram,” he cried, after Tristram lost his temper and tried to sever the seat belt with his knife. “If we get stopped and you’re not strapped in, I’ll get arrested.”

I couldn’t speak; I was on the verge of wetting myself with laughter.

“Bedivere, Talan, your swords will have to go in the trunk,” said Arthur.

“But what if we need to defend our honour?” asked Talan.

“I will acquiesce, Arthur, but I will not leave Natasha unprotected from the scallions of this strange time,” replied Bedivere. “I will relinquish my sword, but a smaller blade stays on my person.”

Arthur clearly didn’t have the energy to argue. Darkness was starting to inch over the field and there were no street lights.

“It’s going to take you an hour to walk to the train station, Titch,” muttered Arthur. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’m safer walking with Bedivere and Talan than riding in that heap of junk,” I replied.

“Call me when you get to London.”

“Will you stop worrying?”

“It’s a big brother’s job.”

“I think you’re going to have a harder time getting to London in one piece than I will,” I sniggered, gazing over Arthur’s shoulder as David managed to activate the car alarm with his boot.

“God give me strength,” said Arthur. “Right now I’d take a room full of Saxons over this.”

Finally, everyone was strapped in, the car alarm was immobilised after Arthur hit it with a spanner, and his little white car bumped up and down as he drove across the muddy field and out onto the dirt track.

“What a magnificent beast,” said Talan, with a dramatic sigh. “I would have been honoured to have ridden it.”

I linked arms with both knights. “You wait until you see how we are going to ride, Talan.”



An hour and a half later, we arrived on foot at the train station. We would have gotten there a lot sooner, but Talan kept doubling back to explore everything.

“Stop drawing attention to yourself, Talan,” I hissed, as he jumped on and off the ascending escalator for the fifth time.

“But they are magical steps,” he cried with delight, jumping down again.

Bedivere had gone very quiet.

“Are you okay?” I squeezed his hand.

“Your time is filled with noise, and people who look without seeing.”

Eventually, I got Bedivere and Talan onto the train, and settled them into a row of two situated at the very back. I sat across the aisle from them.

“I am happy to bear witness to my own company, Lady Natasha, if you and Sir Bedivere would like to get reacquainted,” said Talan, with a cheeky grin.

“Thank you, Talan, but I want you both where I can see you,” I replied. As much as I wanted to snuggle in with Bedivere, and have him to myself for an hour until we reached Waterloo, I simply couldn’t risk taking my eyes off the Irishman. The second I started kissing Bedivere, I could guarantee Talan would be up with the train driver causing untold carnage.

It was a shame it was dark outside for the hour-long train journey. I had a feeling that both knights would have loved to see the open countryside, speeding past us in a massive green blur. Instead, they had nothing to distract them from the jolts and noise of the intercity train, and because we were separated by the aisle in the carriage, we couldn’t talk openly without being overheard by other passengers, who were already staring at the cloaked strangers.

He had travelled through time to find me, just as he promised, but with nothing but time on my hands, I began to panic that Bedivere was already starting to regret coming.

NO, I said forcibly to myself. I will not be that kind of girl. I was the only female Knight of the Round Table. I had battled dwarf-riders and dragons and magical druids and Saxons. This awful love business was not going to reduce me to a puddle of goo on the floor, not now I had Bedivere back.

Just keep telling yourself that, whispered my inner voice malevolently.



The closer we got to London, the more people started boarding the train. It was a Saturday night, and by the time we reached Waterloo, Bedivere and Talan, dressed in their cloaks, tunics and long leather boots, didn’t look so strange, compared to everyone else travelling into the clubs and bars of West London.