Page 4 of Gwen and Art Are Not in Love

As Gwen watched, somebody threw a coin at Lady Leclair’s head. The knight didn’t even flinch, her hands sure at the reins as she leaned forward and steadied her horse, her lips moving ever so slightly as she murmured something in his ear. The only female knight in the country – probably in the whole world – and she bore all the shouting, excitement and ridicule as casually as if she were going for a countryside hack.

‘I don’t know why we have to put up with this ridiculous spectacle—’ the queen started, but the king cut her off with a raised hand.

‘She has the right to be here, Margaret. Weather it another year, and perhaps she’ll give up.’

Gwen barely heard them. Last night’s dream was suddenly coming back to her in vivid colour.

It had been the first day of the joust, and Gwen had beensitting in the royal stands; her parents weren’t there, but Gabriel was, wearing a hat with an enormous feather in it and reciting Chaucer incessantly in her ear. It was customary for knights to show deference to the king before their event began, approaching the royal stands to bow and receive royal assent, and in the dream Lady Leclair had come riding right up to Gwen on a unicorn to present her with a single, soft pink rose. When Gwen had reached for it, Bridget had instead given her a roguish smile, reached over with one gauntleted hand to tilt Gwen’s chin towards her, and then kissed her so hard that Gabriel had stopped reciting poetry and muttered ‘Crikey!’ as he tumbled off his chair.

‘Your highness,’ Lady Leclair had said, her voice dipping dangerously low as her fingers tangled in Gwen’s hair.

‘My fair knight,’ Gwen had whispered huskily in reply.

She knew that she often spoke aloud in her sleep; knew upon waking that she had certainly done so again this time, and that Agnes had heard her say it. Perhaps repeatedly. She could only hope that it was all she had said.

Gwen didn’t even realise she had risen up out of her chair, her hands gripping the edge of the balcony as she drank in the sight of Lady Leclair’s approach, until her mother cleared her throat pointedly; she looked over to see her entire family staring at her. She loosened her grip and glanced back down at the courtyard at the exact moment that Lady Leclair looked up; their eyes locked, and the knight gave an almost imperceptible nod of greeting before urging her horse on.

Christ, Gwen thought as she sat back down, blushing furiously.Not all this again.

The man in the very large boots was going to kick Arthur’s skull in if he didn’t move in the next few seconds. The thought floated in his mind for a moment before the implications really set in, and he rolled out of the way just in time.

‘Getout,’ the man roared.

‘I’m already out,’ Arthur said, squinting up at him from the ground. ‘You helped me get here. Very obliging of you.’

‘You insolent little—’ Arthur saw the boot coming with more warning this time, and scrambled to his feet. There was mud all down the front of his tunic, and he registered distantly that he’d lost his hat.

‘Pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ he said, with a little half-bow. ‘A very fine establishment indeed, top-rate and truly above expectations.’ He turned to leave, but paused as something occurred to him. ‘Oh – have you seen Sidney?’

‘Who thehellis Sidney?’

There was a loud scream from somewhere inside the inn; a ground-floor window was flung open, and a second later a short, well-built young man fell out of it, clutching what looked like half his coat.

‘Ah,’ Arthur said brightly. ‘Never mind.’

‘I’m here,’ Sidney shouted, somewhat redundantly. ‘Don’t worry. Just – can’t find my bloody – knife.’

‘Who’s that then?’ the red-faced innkeeper spat. ‘Yourbodyguard, come to fight your battles for you?’

‘I mean, you’re saying it in a very disparaging tone, but in essence – yes.’

The innkeeper advanced on him, fists raised; Arthur almost fell over backwards in his haste to get away.

‘Horses ’round back,’ Sidney shouted in his direction, waving his half-coat over his head for emphasis.

‘Right you are,’ Arthur said, legging it as fast as he could around the side of the building. He could hear Sidney grunting with effort behind him, struggling to keep up.

‘Weren’t you meant to be the distraction?’ Sidney panted.

‘Er. Yes. But I got – distracted.’

The horses looked at them disapprovingly as they rounded the corner. Arthur tried to mount his in one leap, but miscalculated and almost fell off the other side.

‘’S’all right,’ Sidney said, squinting back over his shoulder once he’d scrambled up into the saddle. ‘He’s not coming.’

‘Good,’ Arthur said, turning his horse in a slow circle.

‘Wait,’ said Sidney. ‘He’s coming now. He’s definitely coming. And he’s got a big stick, Art. Areallybig stick.’