Read Online Queen of the Summer Stars by Persia Woolley - Free Book Online

handsome piece of silk, M’lady,” he commented, taking the corner of my Damascus scarf in his big hand. “A fitting touch in such a royal setting—Cei’s done a fine job with the old ruin, hasn’t he?”
    I nodded in agreement, glancing around the room. The basilica had been cleaned and polished; flags and shields hung from the moldering walls, and fresh torches had been placed in ancient sconces. The curved trestles of the Round Table were set out in a circle, each Companion in his designated chair with his men ranged behind him. Servants and children ran errands between the trestles or darted across the open space in the center, and the air hummed with conversation.
    I grinned up at Pelli just as he let out a fearsome oath. “Someone’s hiding behind that hanging, M’lady,” he whispered, drawing his dagger and crouching to leap.
    Startled, I turned to look at the large, exotic rug Cei had hung as a backdrop behind us. Its colors were deep and rich, with a central panel of maroon holding a circle of silver stars. I was wondering where the Seneschal had found it when Pelli sprang forward, bellowing his challenge as he flung back the edge.
    “Show yourself, skulking swine!”
    There was a flurry of feathers and oaths as a pair of indignant owls glared down on the warrior.
    “Oh, Pelli, it’s just the birds.” I laughed as much at Cei’s ingenuity as at Pelli’s bewilderment, and was glad when the older man roared good-naturedly as well. After Pelli moved away I surveyed the rug more closely, thinking of the bedroom, then turned to look at Arthur.
    Rested and relaxed, he leaned back in his carved chair with the deceptive casualness of a seasoned warrior. I’d made him a new scarlet tunic, and the torchlight winked and glimmered on its embroidered trim. Where the sleeves fell back, a king’s ransom of golden armbands could be seen reaching all the way up to his elbows, and the official Ring of State graced his hand. In the flickering light the gold-and-garnet dragon seemed to coil around his finger, rich and powerful. Altogether he was a man who wore his kinghood well, and I thought again how lucky I was.
    Once the Hall was full the trumpeter coaxed a cascade of notes from his battered horn and a blaze of color whirled into the empty space within the Round Table’s heart. I stared at the gyrating figure in mystification, not recognizing the acrobat who had joined our wedding party last year.
    “Dagonet came on the campaign,” Arthur whispered, leaning over to me. “Did well enough as a foot soldier, but it was his lighthearted antics around the campfire that proved most useful. He’s so good at jesting, Gawain dubbed him the Royal Fool.”
    “Your Highnesses,” Dagonet called out, bowing low before us. “May I conduct this feast for you, since the Wizard is off dallying with his lovely spellbinder elsewhere?”
    The jester wove a dance of the Companions’ recent exploits—miming a swaggering warrior one moment and the dying enemy the next. As the ever-important smith he repaired a bent sword with such gusto he managed to smash his thumb against the imaginary anvil, and even parodied the High King leading the cavalry against the foe, finishing up with a triumphal return to Silchester.
    “And all,” he cried in conclusion, “all that for the Cause—a prosperous Britain, loyal to King Arthur and safe from the threat of invasion.”
    I joined in the laughter and clapping when Dagonet took his bow, thinking that a jester could be very handy in reminding the people what we were trying to do.
    “And now, my fellow heroes and buffoons,” the Fool announced, “’tis time to pay our respect to Their Highnesses and receive the gifts of treasure due every proud warrior, that it may truly be said that Arthur is the most generous of Kings.”
    First among the heroes was Gawain. As Dagonet recounted his confrontation with the Irish champion, the Hall filled with applause—the Prince of Orkney may not have