Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(87)

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."