There was an elaborate tapestry hanging behind his throne. In it was a representation of Arthur seated at the Round Table, and seated around it was an assortment of knights clearly engaged in some deeply intense discussion. None of them really looked like the knights Arthur remembered- the portrayal of himself was recognizable only because of the larger chair. But that was all right, since the weavers of the tapestry had doubtless created it centuries after the table, and its members were part of the legends rather than living, breathing men.
"It's very nice. I've been admiring it for some time now."
Arthur turned and a grin split his face. Gwen was standing in one of the side entrances. She was wearing a simple blue frock which served to accentuate the loveliness of her features.
She ran her fingers through her strawberry-blond hair and said, "I saw all the nice dresses you had hanging in that wardrobe in my room. I hope you don't mind that I felt like wearing this outfit. It's not very fancy-----"
Arthur stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Gwen, what happened to the strong-willed resolve? Doing what you feel comfortable with, without having to rely solely on the approval of others?"
"I know, I know," she sighed. "It's a habit. Still, I suppose I feel a little guilty."
"In heaven's name, why?"
"Because I haven't been much of a guest. Most of the time I've just been sleeping and sleeping and sleeping."
He laughed and draped an arm around her shoulder as they walked toward the dining room.
"From what I've learned of your life the past several years, my little Gwen, you probably haven't had a good night's sleep in quite some time. You're just making up for all those lost hours."
"The bed's been unbelievably comfortable. And it's so quiet here, but not, you know, quiet in a spooky way. Quiet in a friendly way. You can just lie back and listen to nothing, and enjoy it."
She turned then, and faced him. Arthur was amused to recall that once upon a time his Guinevere had had to almost crane her neck to look at his eyes. Now they were practically on eye-to-eye level. Arthur mused that if he disappeared into a cavern for another millennium, he would be a midget when he came out.
"Arthur, where are we?" she asked intently.
"Why, we're right outside the dining room." With a sweep of his arm he indicated the table, which was already set. As always there was enough food there to feed a regiment-where it came from, Arthur never knew. It was just there when he needed it. With the bounty available, sustenance for his "castlemate" had been no problem at all.
She shook her head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I once took a tour of Belvedere Castle, and I know for sure that there was nothing like this. Yet you say that we're in that castle. I find it so hard to believe, and yet-"
"Gwen," he said firmly. "I never lie. Not to you. Not to anyone. To lie is to diminish one's own feeling of self-worth."
"I know, but then ... how?"
"You saw how when I first brought you down here a week ago."
"Oh, yes, I saw. I saw but I didn't understand. I mean," she stepped away and shook her head in puzzlement, "I saw what you did with the sword, and the door swing open and the darkness. But none of it really made all that much sense or registered. I think part of me believed that I was actually dreaming."
"In the middle of the day?"
"Why not?" she said reasonably. "After all, many of my daylight hours have been nightmares anyway. Arthur, I don't understand how any of this works."
Nodding slowly, Arthur crossed slowly to this throne, pulling at his beard as he searched for a way to explain it to Gwen. Which was going to be a slick trick, considering that he didn't fully understand.it himself.
He went up the two steps to the throne and paused there a moment. Then he said, "Gwen, how do you turn on a light?"
"What, you mean like when you enter a room?" He nodded. She looked at him suspiciously.
"Is this a trick question? Like 'How many Jewish American princesses does it take to screw in a lightbulb?' "
"What?" he asked in utter confusion.
"No, I guess not. Uh, okay." She leaned against the stone wall which, unlike every other castle she'd ever been in, was warm to the touch. "To turn on a light, you just flick the wall switch."
"Right. And what happens?"
"The light comes on."
"Yes, but why?"
Now Gwen was confused. "Because you turned on the light switch. Arthur, if this is your idea of an explanation, it really sucks."
"Gwen," he said patiently, "what is it that makes the light - go on when you turn on the switch?"
"Electricity, I guess. It makes the bulb come on."
"How?"
She stamped a shapely foot in irritation. "Who cares? I'm not an electrician, for heaven's sake. You turn the switch and it activates some doohickey and the doohickey feeds electricity into the whatchamacallit and the light comes on. It doesn't matter to me so long as it works."
"Precisely."
"Precisely what?"
Arthur sat in his throne, looking bizarrely incongruous in his three-piece suit. "This little home-away-from-home of mine is something that Merlin arranged for me. Someplace to which I can return at night and feel that I belong, after spending a day feeling like a living anachronism. Which is how I do feel, despite my best efforts to acclimate to this odd little civilization of yours. Merlin was quite pleased when he put this together. He even tried to explain it to me-something about transdimensional bridges and relative dimensions in space and other nonsense. And I said to him about New Cam-elot exactly what you say to me about electric lights-who cares as long as it works?"
"But Arthur, you don't understand!"
"Odd, that's just what Merlin said."
"Electricity and lights-that's all science. This is. . ." She waved her hands around helplessly.
"This is magic!"
"Now, Gwen, magic is just another science. And if scientists acknowledged that magic existed and put their considerable talents to discovering what made it tick, a great deal more could be accomplished in this world. But scientists have decided that magic does not and cannot exist, so naturally they don't go out of their way to try and find the reasons for it."
He shook his head. "Very shortsighted on their part."
Gwen put her hand to her head and sat down. "Arthur, you don't seem to realize that I'm a rational human being. I don't believe in magic. I don't believe in things just appearing because you need them."
"Oh no?"
"No."
"That chair you're sitting in? It wasn't there a moment ago."
She sprang from the chair as if propelled by springs. Her hands fluttered to her mouth and her voice was a combination of surprise and hysterical laughter. "This is crazy!"
"Why?"
"Because I was always taught to be a very rational person!"
"Faugh! Rationality always gets in the way of common sense. Common sense tells you that no other explanation is possible for what you see. But when you try to rationalize the unexplainable, you run into problems.'*
She was delicately tapping the arms of the chair as Arthur said in a softer voice, "Like us."
She looked over to him and saw the way he was looking at her. She felt her cheeks color and looked down. She couldn't remember the last time she'd blushed.
"Arthur." She looked up at him tentatively. "Arthur . . . are you really him? I mean, the original King Arthur?"
"Yes."
"But... but it's so difficult to believe."
"Ah-ah," and he put up a finger. "You're rationalizing again. Didn't I tell you how that gets in the way?"
"But if I believe what you're saying," and she walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, "then I would also have to accept the part about my being a reincarnation of your Queen Guin ..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened in surprise. "You know, Arthur, my name-Gwen DeVere- that sounds a lot like Guinevere, doesn't it?"