Gwen nodded. "I see."

"There is also the matter of the wedding between James and Mary. Plans to be made. A menu to prepare. Tel me, is there nothing more fun than helping a bride to prepare for the most important day of her life?"

"'Tis a lot of fun," Gwen said.

"It sure is. Do you real y want to miss out on that?"

Gwen cocked her head. "Tel me, Countess, why you have never married."

"I'm very picky."

"Does that mean you do not ever want to be wed?"

Isabel seemed to hesitate. "I don't rule anything out. Perhaps. Someday."

"Just waiting for the right man?"

"Something like that."

"Al right, Countess, you have made your point and I have much to mul over. Now please tel me what is in your hands."

Isabel held up the black garment. "Your breeches."

Gwen nearly choked. "Breeches?"

"Yes, remember, right before you became il , you had the seamstresses busy making breeches for the women?"

Gwen frowned. "Yes, yes, I have a vague memory of that."

"Wel , these were made for you, in case you decide to join us at recess."

Rubbing her temples, Gwen asked, "Remind me again why we decided breeches for women was a good idea."

"So that they have more freedom during their morning recess. They do not have to worry about displaying more of their legs or worse while they play."

"Do you wear these breeches?"

Isabel grinned and lifted her skirts. Yes, indeed, she was sporting a pair of these things. She laid the pants at the foot of Gwen's bed. "We wil be gathering in the bailey in a short while, should you decide to join us." She nodded her head and moved to leave.

"Isabel?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"May I ask a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you find Jenny and let her know I have need of her services?"

Isabel smiled. "Gladly. Welcome back, Gwen."

"Thank you."

"SO?" Mary asked as the women gathered round.

Isabel shrugged. "We shal see."

"Whate'er," Madeline, one of the cooks said. "We thank you for trying."

"Thank me if it works."

"What are we doing today, mum?"

"We are playing a thing cal ed basebal . Wel , a Camelot version of basebal ," she amended.

As she went to place the four smal rushes around the yard, she explained, "We wil divide into two teams. The teams take turns being the ones trying to score points and the ones trying to keep the other team from scoring points.

"The team trying to score points wil send one player at a time to here," she said, dropping one of the rushes on the ground. "This is cal ed home base. The player wil toss a rock as far as she wants, but try to keep it from heading straight to a member of the other team, who wil be scattered around the other bases, trying to defend-"

"Mum!" Mary squealed, then nodded her head toward the far side of the bailey. "The queen. She is coming."

Sure enough, Gwen came running over, holding up her skirts just enough that Isabel caught a glimpse of black beneath them.

Everyone in the bailey seemed to freeze as they watched their queen join the ladies.

They al curtsied and remained in that position, heads down.

"Please rise," Gwen said. "We have games to play. So what have I missed?"

JAMES came rushing into Arthur's working study without knocking. Arthur was about to chastise him for the unannounced interruption, but the look on his man's face stopped him. "What is it?"

"Sir, you must come see this."

"What?"

"I cannot explain. Wel , I might try, but trust me, you wil want to witness for yourself."

Arthur rose quickly and fol owed James out the door and through the great hal and out into the bailey.

He stopped short as he watched one young girl running around in a circle while others around her tossed a stone to one another and tried to chase the girl down.

There were squeals of delight and clapping and cheering. It appeared to be some sort of game Arthur had ne'er before seen.

His eyes sought out Isabel, because as certain as he was breathing was he that this was her doing. She was clapping, then cupped her hands around her mouth. "Try for third, Sarah! You can make it!"

The running girl, who was also laughing with glee, touched her foot on a mat of sorts and then kept on running as the stone was thrown al about.

"What in blazes are they doing, James?"

"'Tis a game the countess cal s Camelot basebal ."

"Camelot basebal ," Arthur repeated.

Over the last several days, he had watched as Isabel had engaged the servants in increasingly stranger and stranger play. This one, by far, was the strangest.

And yet the ladies appeared to be having such fun. "You were right, James, you could not have described this to me. It is too priceless not to see it for myself."

Without taking his eyes from the bizarre scene before him, he asked, "Is it true that our men seem to be happy with this playtime arrangement?"

"Oh, indeed, sir. They report that their wives and sweethearts seem to be in much happier moods, that they seem to have an extra skip to their steps."

"Do you see this in Mary?"

"My Mary has always had a skip to her step, but yea, I see her joy and excitement when she tel s me of her day. She also reports that productivity in the kitchens, in the laundering rooms and in the sewing room has risen, as the women get back to work with a newfound vigor. I would report, sir, that this recess time appears to be a great success."

"Leave it to Isabel," Arthur said, smiling slightly. "She seems to infuse enthusiasm wherever she goes with her creativity."

He almost laughed out loud at the understatement. As much as he woke each morning, excited to get to work, to start a new day afresh, he also could not wait for night to fal , so that he could join Isabel in her quarters. And 'twas not just the lovemaking that he treasured, but also the times when they lay in each other's arms, speaking quietly of their days. He found himself more and more seeking her counsel on matters important to him. She was an avid listener, with a quick mind, grasping concepts he was certain she had never needed to confront or consider in the peaceful lands of Dumont.

Her ideas were as inspired as they were-what was that word she used? Oh, yes. Quirky. She often prefaced a sentence with, "This might sound quirky, but hear me out ..."

More often than not, her thoughts made him laugh, but then the more he pondered, the more he would see the merit in them. Or at least slight variations. But they always, always provoked thought.

He loved that so much about her. He also loved her passion in bed sport. One touch from him in just the right place and she would immediately turn into the eager lover. He craved the moment he would get her naked, save for that blue necklace, which as far as he knew, she never, ever took off.

Her skin, so soft and creamy- He realized suddenly that James had said something and he had not heard.

"I am sorry, what?"

"I said do you see, sir, anyone else familiar amongst the women?"

Arthur peered closer at al the others. Most were familiar, of course. He had too many servants to count, but he made it a mission to know as many by name as possible. To his way of thinking, they deserved that much, if not more, from their king, who they served so faithful y and with little complaint.

"I see many familiar faces, James. Anyone in particular you would like me to notice?"

"Look at the one in the pale yel ow gown. The one chasing Mary at the moment."

Arthur glanced at the woman. And froze. The long auburn hair, the slight figure. "Gwen?"

"Indeed, my king. The queen has arisen from her sickbed."

"Oh, thank the gods," Arthur said, his voice low.

But her obvious good health was a bit too suspiciously miraculous. As he did every morning afore he headed off to exercises, this morn he had stopped by to inquire of her health. Just as the mornings before, she had appeared pale and fragile and acted as if she felt too weak to rise up and dress and go about her duties as queen. Although, as was the case day in and day out, she made attempts to lure him into her bed with her.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask his revulsion at the thought. When had al attraction for his wife dried to nothing but a pile of dust?

He knew not. He could not lay it al on Isabel's door, as he had already begun to lose interest before Isabel's arrival. The hurt had remained, but the desire had waned before. Because as sure as he knew his own name, he knew that if he had stil been passionate about Gwen, he would not have given Isabel a second glance. He was a one-woman man that way, always had been. Once his heart was engaged, he had eyes for no woman save the one who held his love and desire in her hands.

He shook his head.

On the one hand, he was relieved that Gwen had regained her good health. However, knowing she was bedridden had given him the freedom to move about as he pleased. Now that she was back on her feet, he knew that his movements would be watched much more careful y by his wife.

'Twas a conundrum. He would need to discuss it with Isabel later.

"Wel , it is good to see she is better," he said. Then he looked closer. "Ye gads. She is also wearing those black leggings things that the others wear during sport."

"Mary told me this morn that Isabel was determined to lure Gwen up out of her bed and hoped that the leggings would entice her to rise up and join the staff for the recess time."

"Hmm, I wonder why?" he mumbled, not realizing he'd actual y spoken aloud until James answered him.

"It seems that the servants met and discussed the problems with their queen. Since Isabel is the one that they have been turning to to find answers for questions that arose around the castle, they believed perhaps Isabel would be the logical choice to approach the queen."

"Isabel has been handling some of Gwen's duties?" Arthur asked.

"You have not noticed?"

"I must be blind," Arthur said, wanting to kick himself in the ass. "No, I did not notice, and Isabel has made not a single complaint at being forced to take over tasks that are not her concern. She is a guest at this castle, for Thor's sake."

"I do not notice the countess complaining about much," James offered. "Save perhaps whatever happened betwixt the two of you, nights ago."

Arthur rol ed his eyes. "Do you know what a major fault of mine is, James?"

"No, King Arthur, I know of none."

"That I al ow my most trusted men to speak their minds."

James roared with laughter. "My apologies," he said. "For speaking out of turn."

Arthur looked at him. "You appear not one whit sorry."

"I wil work on my contrite expression."

Arthur clapped James on the back. "You do that. 'Twil probably take years of practice."

With one last glance toward the women, lingering longest, of course, on the one with long blond hair who was now being chased down by several of the servants, Arthur turned and headed back to his study, James's laughter stil ringing in his ears. Yes, indeed, he and Isabel had much to discuss this evening. Should he be able to get her alone.

The thought that he might fail in that endeavor was truly depressing.

THERE was a time when Gwen would have thought nothing of entering Arthur's study without announcing herself, but she was acutely aware that many things had changed between them. So even though his door was open, she knocked. He glanced up from a scrol he was studying intently.

The parchment appeared to be a detailed drawing of a map.

He rol ed it up, set it aside and stood. "Gwen," he said, gesturing her in, "it is good to see you up and about. I trust you are feeling better."

"Very much, Arthur, thank you."

He waved her into a chair, waiting for her to be seated before he returned to his own seat. "What, do you suppose, helped ... cure you of your ailments?"