"You have no choice. Guinevere-last I heard, the Queen of Camelot-has decreed that we may help in this endeavor."

His outrage almost overruled his admiration. "This is war. This is a man's battle."

"This is a battle to preserve Camelot," Isabel said. "It is up to al of us to join in."

"You are of Dumont. You are not of Camelot. You have not authority to-"

One by one he watched as every woman at the table stood up again, this time including Gwen. And by the bel igerent countenances, he was certainly aware it was not out of respect for their king. Truth be told, the al egiances had most assuredly switched to the woman from Dumont.

"I give her the authority, Arthur," Gwen said, even as she shook a little. "We are joining in, in our own ways. Every one of us at this table has a man who is heading into harm's way. We are doing our part, whether you agree or not. Isabel has plans. We are not going to do a single thing to interfere, only to, mayhap, intervene where we are able. Now go back to your plans, and leave us to ours."

And then, to his utter amazement, the women al began holding up hands, slapping them against one another and saying what he believed to be, "High five."

Too many things to take in. The most stunning was that this was the very first time Gwen had stood up and countermanded his wishes. She had, while he was not paying attention, grown a backbone. Then again, when she declared that al of the women had a dog in this fight, or a man, as it were, he knew for a certainty she was thinking of Lance, not of him. And he did not care a fig. He cared that the man Isabel was defiantly fighting for was he.

Second, that the women servants were truly and utterly defying him.

And worst of al , that Isabel not only joined in this fight to help save his lands, she had managed to form an army of females to fol ow her into battle for them.

He knew when he was out-womaned. "Fine," he said. "You do as you see fit. But, Isabel, if your plans involve bringing any woman into the battlefield-"

"They do not," she said. "I vow we are doing this in a way that women do best. We are smarter and sneakier than men. Not a woman wil be harmed in this fight. I swear. And if we are successful, no men, either. Is that not the goal?"

"That is the goal. But, Isabel? Countess Isabel? A word?" he said, crooking his finger at her.

"I'm guessing I am going to hear more than one. And most of them wil be of the swearing kind."

The women around the table laughed.

"You are right. But words we wil have. Now, please."

"Shal I accompany you, Countess?" Mary said.

Oh, great, now she had people ready to attack him should he make any threatening moves or words against her. His own people. He had definitely lost control of this entire castle.

"No need, Mary," Isabel said. "Not even Excalibur at his side worries me. However, should my head rol back in here, no longer attached to the rest of my body, you may correctly assume I sadly overestimated my trust in your king."

"VERY funny," Arthur said as he dragged Isabel into his study.

"Have Mordred and his men returned yet?"

"They have."

"The mission successful?"

"He feels so. Although he could not wait to rip those braids from his head. And they were not happy about the dresses."

"It was only for added protection. Should any enemy sneak up upon them-"

"They would first believe they were dealing with helpless women, yes, I get it. You realize, of course, the irony of that ruse."

"What do you mean?"

"You are using men's beliefs of helpless females against them."

"Hey, if they're dumb enough, use whatever you have."

"We have ten men imprisoned. Those who Mordred and his men caught with that ruse."

"Cool! Now let's hope that many others are enticed to stop long enough to taste the pastries and mead."

"They are men gal oping into battle."

"Wel , even men gal oping into battle get hungry and thirsty."

"Mordred is quite proud, Isabel. He, I am thinking, feels he has accomplished an amazing feat this day."

"He has. Good for him. Now, I have another thought."

He stared at her. "Why does this worry me?"

"Because you are so accustomed to traditional blood and guts warring that you don't get the fine art of trickery."

"And what trickery have you in mind, now?"

"Wel , not trickery, perhaps, but a form of defense."

"And that would be?"

"Light a fire. A big one."

"I wil not burn down Camelot, Isabel."

"No, no, I don't mean here. I mean far enough in the forest to cut off al trails leading to Camelot. Those not dumb enough to stop to take advantage of our lovely food and drink gifts wil be stopped by a wal of fire. You gave me the idea when you warned Lance not to start a fire he could not contain. If you start a fire, a contained fire, blocking their way to the castle, you cut them off before they can even invade."

Arthur looked down at this woman, this utterly amazing woman. "And your plans?"

"Wil not work should we leak them. Trust me, Arthur, no women wil be harmed during the making of this battle."

"What?"

"Never mind, was just a joke."

"You are so strange, Isabel."

"But you love that about me."

"I am utterly perplexed by that about you."

"At least I'm not boring."

"That, Countess Isabel, is the truest of truths."

Again he kissed her, as fiercely as he had just hours ago. Then he took her hand, leading her back out of his study.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To start a fire. And you are going back to continue planning. That room, that table, was first meant for something completely different. But now I see so clearly that it has value so deeper than that. And, by the by, you love me, in case you needed to be reminded."

"I do, and I didn't."

She began walking back to the round table room when she heard him cal , "I love you!"

And then, "Oh, for crying out loud, Frederick. I meant her, not you."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

THE battle, thank the gods, never happened.

Not a single sword had to be used, not a single arrow fired. In the day fol owing the attack that failed, Arthur's men combed the trails and discovered the bodies of many men, one of them Richard of Freemont, who turned out to be a fat pig who would never turn down the thought of pastry or mead.

Isabel, Mary, Jenny and Gwen were once again gathered in Isabel's chambers, as Mary attempted to fix the hair of those she'd had to butcher.

Jenny and Gwen had supported the cause, as had Mary, who chopped her own hair to help make the braids.

"You did not hear this from me, Countess," Jenny said, "but the speaking around the castle is that the women were disappointed they did not get the opportunity to thwack a single bad man."

"We can only be happy about that. But I wil thwack you if you continue to refuse to cal me Isabel."

"Give it up, Jenny," Mary said as she worked on Gwen's hair. "You wil not win. Isabel wil wear you down."

"And I want you al to please cal me Gwen."

Jenny froze. "What?" she said, looking around at them. "I have already asked this of you two. I am now asking this of Jenny. What is the problem with this?"

"You are the queen," Jenny whispered.

"Who is sitting upon the floor, having fun with women she has come to see as friends. I would like you to view me as the same."

"Mary," Isabel said. "Get that razor out of the way."

Mary sat back, the razor in the hand behind her.

Isabel leaned forward and pul ed Gwen into a hug. "You are a friend, Gwen. And a very good one."

She sat back and pointed. "Now you and you. Admit you consider Gwen a great friend. After al , we have shared pickle stories. Only friends do that."

"Oh, James would just die if he knew," Mary said, and then hugged her queen. "I very much consider you a friend, my queen."

"Mary," Isabel growled.

"Gwen," Mary answered, although it was an obviously trying moment for her. "Wil take some time to get used to that."

"It wil just be among the pickle sisters," Isabel said.

They al fel over laughing. It took minutes for them to sit back up, although they were al holding their tummies.

"Your turn, Jenny," Isabel said. She pointed at her chest. "Isabel." She pointed at Gwen. "Gwen. Now go ahead, spit it out. Or the three of us might be forced to describe the two walnuts you can expect to find under that pickle."

Jenny stared, but then joined in the laughter. "I wish an explanation first, afore I concede."

"Oh, good gods, no, Jenny," Gwen said. "These are treasures you must find for yourself."

"Oh, a treasure hunt? I love a treasure hunt. I am very good at those."

"We must get this girl married," Isabel said. "So she may go hunting."

"Ashton wants her," Mary said, "but she has refused. At least three times, right, Jenny?"

Jenny blushed. "Yes, that is true."

"Why?" Isabel asked. "Do you not care for him? I met him just yester morning ... in a way ... and I must say he is a very handsome young warrior."

"It is just that I feared ..."

"What?"

Jenny looked at Gwen. "I feared losing my position as the queen's servant."

"What?" Gwen and Isabel said at the same time. "Why would you believe this, Jenny?" Gwen finished.

"You told me so, Your Highness."

"When did I e'er say such a thing?"

"You told me that you dreaded the day that I wed, because 'twould mean you would need to find a new maid servant."

Isabel nearly choked. "You told her that?"

"No! Wel , it is possible. But if I uttered such a thing, what I was thinking was that once she married, she would become a wife and would no longer want or need to be of service to me. Jenny, I never presumed you would believe I meant marriage would be the end of my need for you. If anything, I was mourning the thought of ever losing you as servant and ... friend."

"Oh, Your Highness. I love being your servant and ... and friend. I always have."