"Grovel?" Isabel provided.

"... feel the need to lower yourselves upon her entrance," King Arthur finished.

Isabel felt the need to bow a little herself. Then she stood and said, "Okay, now we're even. No more of that, al right? It's a pain for al of us. By the way, hi! Good to be here," she said, waving in what she hoped wasn't a Queen Elizabeth-type way.

Everyone, even the dogs, stared at her like she was a little, or maybe a lot, addled. But then they smiled. And several waved back.

There were what she thought were things cal ed rushes on the floor, and the hal smel ed a little smarmy. Part sweat, part pee, part burning wood, part indescribable. Yet as she and Arthur walked farther into the great room, a kind of nice smel kept wafting up.

"Thyme?" she asked.

The king looked at her. "My guess, Isabel, is betwixt the noon hour and evening meal."

"I was talking about ... never mind. May I retire to my quarters to prepare for supper?"

"Most assuredly, Countess. Your trunks wil be delivered as soon as one of your Toms, Dicks or Harrys manage to get them up there." The humor was back in his eyes, and Isabel was once again bamboozled.

She pul ed herself together to ask one more thing. "Sir, my men. They mean a great deal to me. Their accommodations?"

"They'l be given the best the great hal of Camelot has to offer, Isabel."

Once again, she melted. The way her name came off his tongue real y screwed with her hormones. "Does this mean they'l stay downstairs, then?"

"Do you want them up closer to you, Isabel?"

"Is that possible? I don't want to upset anyone, but I truly want them near me."

"Very unusual, but it shal be done." The king took a long look at her, then bowed. "I only wish to make you happy."

Happy would be kissing him senseless.

Her necklace again thumped her. Stick to the plan, Izzy.

Then stop putting gorgeous, sexy kings in my face, Viviane.

ISABEL'S room was the epitome of medieval luxury accommodations. The wal s were made of rustic wood, which smel ed of cedar, but probably weren't. The bedsheets were rose and forest green. She had her own special room, if you could cal it that, with a piss pot in just about every corner.

And in front of the fireplace was a huge tub.

There was a cheerful fire crackling in the huge fireplace, which bathed the room in a rosy glow. Al in al , considering the time period, this was presidential-suite material.

Her trunks had been delivered to her room, and Viviane had thought of everything. Except floss. And a toothbrush. And Listerine.

Not happy with the lack of dental care here, Viviane.

Patience has never been a virtue bestowed upon you, has it, dear?

Not when it comes to my teeth.

Help will arrive shortly. And wear the very pale red gown tonight that I believe in your time you call pink. Lancelot is apparently partial to that shade.

Pink. Probably Isabel's least favorite color. Not only did it wash out any color from her face, it reminded her of the time when she'd been forced to play the cotton candy in her fourth grade play, A Day at the Fair. She'd real y wanted to be the corn dog.

Isabel jumped when there was a knock at her door. "Yes?"

"M'lady, 'tis Mary. I shal be your chambermaid during your visit."

"Wel , by al means, Mary, come on in."

"Me arms be ful , m'lady."

Isabel turned from her trunks and went to the door. "Ful of-"

She stopped as she stared down at the loaded tray in the young girl's hands. There were several twigs that appeared shredded on one side. A smal bowl with what looked like salt. A pitcher of water and another smal bowl of greens which smel ed like mint.

This is what I'm supposed to use on my teeth?

You will find it suffices for teeth devices.

"What, no wine?" Isabel asked, motioning Mary in.

The girl tried to curtsy, which made everything on the tray wobble precariously. "On its way, m'la-"

"My name is Isabel, Mary. If I may cal you Mary, please cal me Isabel."

"Oh, no, m'lady! I could not possibly."

"Oh, yes, Mary, you could. In fact I insist."

"Please, Countess, I cannot."

Isabel smiled down at the girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. Mary had long, bright red hair that would have made Ronald McDonald jealous.

She had freckles racing al over her nose and cheeks. But Isabel couldn't figure out the color of her eyes because Mary was intent on staring at the floor.

"Fine, then. I won't ever ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. Countess wil work for me if it works for you."

"Yes, mum. Countess, mum."

"Then we're al set. Please, bring on the goodies."

Mary stumbled through the room into the dressing area, set everything down just so, then turned with her empty tray. "Shal I order water for a bath, m'lady?"

"That sounds heavenly."

Final y Mary raised her eyes to meet Isabel's. They were the exact sapphire color of the necklace of tears.

Isabel grinned. It was an omen. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Mary."

"I believe so as wel , m'la-Countess."

"I would love a bath. But before that, could you please help me find the pink gown among this mess?"

"Pink?"

"Pale red?" Isabel tried.

Mary gnawed at her bottom lip, obviously stil not understanding.

"You know the color that your cheeks turn, when you're flattered by a boy? Or embarrassed by something you think you've done?"

"Oh! Oh, yes. Although, mum, in my instances, that would be a deep red." She glanced down and then up again, a twinkle in her eyes. "I must admit it does not go wel with my hair."

"I doubt that, Mary. My guess is that your blush turns many young men's heads."

Mary blushed.

And boy, was she right. Almost fire-engine red on those cheeks.

"That's so kind of you to say, Countess." Mary headed straight for the third trunk and pul ed out a beautiful gown. "That's more rose than pink, Mary."

"This is not your ... pink?"

Is this your idea of pink, Viviane?

So a shade here and there. Stop quibbling.

"I think this wil compliment your fair skin, Lady. Any shade lighter and 'twould not do your beauty justice."

Now that's what Isabel liked. A chambermaid with excel ent taste. "Yes, you and I are going to get along real y wel , Mary."

"I am assured we are, m'lady."

Isabel didn't even need to ask who, or what, assured Mary as Isabel again touched her necklace. "Bring on the wine and the bath."

"Done."

"How are you with hair, Mary?"

"Do you need me to be good with hair, Countess?"

"I real y do."

"Then, yes, m'lady, I am very good with hair."

As primitive as this al was, Isabel felt amazingly pampered. The gal ons of bath water carted to her room had been too hot at first, but Mary had sprinkled lavender and rosemary in the tub. It was wonderful y soothing. Afterward Mary made good on her promise, roping Isabel's hair and then wrapping it into something of a bun, but with a twist, then a long, elaborate ponytail.

Mary had also added a brass broach to the left side of Isabel's waist. By the time Tom and Dick escorted her down to the dining area, she felt almost queenlike. Time to meet the real queen. Wonderful.

ISABEL met both Lancelot and Guinevere at supper that night. Gwen, as King Arthur cal ed her, was as nice as nice could be. She was a beautiful young thing; young being the operative word. Her hair was auburn, pul ed back in an elaborate bun, a circlet of tiny gems gracing her disgustingly devoid-of-a-single-wrinkle forehead.

Isabel wanted to ask what face cream she used, until it occurred to her that Gwen was stil nearly a child. Isabel wasn't al owed to date at her age, much less marry and cheat on her husband. If Gwen hadn't been so sweetly gracious, Isabel would have loved to hate her. The queen had the scent of rose petals emanating from her, which was a welcome smel compared to the sweat and animal odors that invaded even this dining room.

Of course, there were sweaty men and dogs hanging around here, too, so no big surprise there. Isabel wished she'd paid more attention to the ingredients in Oust to see if she could replicate the product here.

Gwen's dress was a shimmery silver, with an elaborate chain belted around her disgustingly tiny waist. Isabel guessed that belt wouldn't fit around half the beefy men's arms who were standing at the huge rectangular dining room table.

"'Tis an honor to have you grace our hal , Countess," Guinevere said. "We have been anticipating your arrival with much gladness. My husband informs me that this wil mean a great and mutual y beneficial treaty between our two lands."

Oh, great, so Gwen wasn't a twit. She kept her pulse on politics, too. Was there nothing Isabel could find to dislike about her? Other than the fact that Gwen had the luxury of sleeping every night beside the one man who so far floated Isabel's longship?

She felt a thump on her chest.

Could you stop doing that?

Pull it together, dear. Bow to the queen and leave the lust for later.

Isabel attempted another deep curtsy, which would have failed miserably if Tom and Dick hadn't held on. She real y needed to practice this bowing thing. "I'm honored to have been invited to Camelot, Your Highness. Your hospitality is much appreciated."

Gwen laughed softly, which was also disgustingly perfect. "Please, Arthur and I do not ken to the formalities. Unless you want that I should bow to you as wel when we meet."

Horror of horrors. Isabel had a flashback of being in the Far East with the "you bow, I bow, you bow, I bow, who gets to bow last" thing. "That works perfectly for me," Isabel said, then nearly groaned at the shocked look on the faces around her. "What I mean, your Highness, is that we should give our knees a break."

Gwen actual y grinned. "Methinks it is an excel ent suggestion. Perhaps al of that bowing is also to blame for so many back ailments among our men?"

"Methinks, you might be correct," Isabel said. "Perhaps a good chiropra-"

Thump.

Isabel worked hard not to react to the bang to her chest. "What I meant to say, is that my man, Dick, here, is a wonder with back problems." Very true. He was her chiropractor in the normal world and a miracle worker, considering how much she had to contort her body to get the right shots.

"Perhaps he could work some magic on your ailing men."

Many men standing by the table rubbed their backs and final y smiled their half-toothless smiles at Dick. Even a few of the serving maids took a second glance.

Dick kicked Isabel in the leg while smiling wildly. Then he bowed again and said, "At your service, Your Highness. And might I add that Tom, here, is a specialist with teeth? Should you have anyone in the castle who must needs tooth attention, he would be more than wil ing to offer assistance."

Tom turned green at al of the toothless smiles that suddenly swung his way. "Always at your service, Your Highness," he said, reaching his leg around to kick Dick.

Tom had been Isabel's dentist forever and friend for at least half of that. He gave her a "what have you gotten me into?" look, and she gave him a shrug. After al , she hadn't mentioned it.

Just then Harry came limping in from the great hal , his hair stil wet from having to make himself presentable and his gait stil showing he was hurting from the kick to his gonads. It obviously hurt, badly.

"And this is Harry," Isabel announced, "my other man. He is the one incredibly good with animals. He's been my ve-"

Thump "Ouch!"

Everyone stared at her.