"So I became a sentinel. Keeping vigil. Waiting for the time when they would leave or escape their imprisonment, and the battle for supremacy could begin anew. But century after century passed, and I began to despair of their ever returning."
She turned away from Gwen and folded her arms. "A year ago, my sweet, you could not have recognized me. I shudder when I think of what I became. But it's all behind me now."
There was a long silence, and Gwen swallowed. "Where's Lance?"
Morgan faced her, a wolfish smile on her face. My God, she looks like Arthur, thought Gwen.
"I was wondering when you would ask that. Come here, my sweet. Come and see."
Slowly, haltingly, Gwen walked to the television set and looked on the screen. Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Lance was on the TV. He was naked, chained and spread-eagled against what appeared to be the wall of a dungeon. His head lolled against his chest.
The image was there for a moment only, before the screen abruptly went blank, but it had seared itself into Gwen's mind. She spun on Morgan, her fists clenched. "Why?"
"Because," said Morgan easily, "I want Excalibur."
Gwen stepped back, aghast. "I... I don't know what-"
Morgan raised a cautioning finger. "Now, now, love- don't try lying to someone who is infinitely your superior when it comes to lying. You know Excalibur. Where does Arthur keep it?"
"With him. All the time."
"All the time?"
Gwen blinked a moment, not understanding, and then she colored. "You mean, like when we're-"
"That's right."
"Oh, no. No, I couldn't."
Morgan crossed to her quickly and grabbed her by the wrist. Her pleasant demeanor disappeared as she spat out, "Then your precious Lance dies."
Their gazes locked, and then Gwen said as levelly as she could, "So kill him."
Morgan released her in surprise. "What?"
Gwen flounced across the room, her stomach churning as she said, "Kill the bastard if you want. It doesn't matter to me."
Morgan smiled then, that same wolfish smile. "Very good. Oh, that's very good. I wasn't expecting that." She started to walk toward the door. "Very well, my queen. As you wish. Lance is as good as dead."
She got to the door, opened it, and then Gwen came up behind her and slammed it shut before she could exit. Morgan turned, and the two women faced each other, glaring.
"You kill him," said Gwen slowly, "and Arthur will hunt you down and kill you."
"Are you sure?" said Morgan quietly. "There's no love lost between Arthur and your former beau. Are you willing to gamble Lance's life that that threat will keep me in line-particularly since I believe it to be without substance?"
They stood there for a long moment, neither moving, neither willing to bend an inch in will or spirit. Then Morgan said, "Lance has spoken of you recently. I must say he's taking being chained up very well." Morgan walked back into the room with a jaunty little bounce to her step. "When I told him I'd be seeing you, he asked me to ask you for forgiveness. If you must know, his exact words were, Tell her not to worry about me. Whatever happens, I deserve it.'
"
Gwen's features crumbled momentarily, but she managed to quickly compose herself.
"Look, Morgan," she said, trying to sound reasonable, "even if I waited until after Arthur and I had . . . you know . . . and tried to get away with his sword, it would never work. He's so attuned to it that the moment I lay a finger on Excalibur he'd snap awake and want to know what the hell I was doing."
Morgan regarded her, her eyebrows arched, and said, "You may be right, my love. Very well then. I believe we can hit upon a compromise, if you are amenable. Provide a minor distraction for me, and I in turn will release your precious Lance as soon as the deed is done."
"He's not my precious Lance," said Gwen tautly. "I have no feeling left for him. I-I can't allow an innocent to be injured as a result of all this. And I want you to know that what you're doing is despicable."
"Yes," agreed Morgan. "It's nice to know I haven't lost my touch. Now here, my darling, is what I want you to do____"
Lance slowly raised his head as he sensed her nearness. Morgan smiled at him, standing several feet away. Lance pulled against his chains, then, his hands flexing frantically as he said, "Morgan! Oh, please, no, not again!"
She nodded slowly, smiling. She reached behind her back as she said, "I just saw a friend of yours."
"Friend?"
"Yes. Barely an hour ago." Her hand made some motion and her black gown dropped to the floor. She stood naked before him. "Your friend was very concerned about you."
"Morgan, please! I'm telling you, I can't...."
She pressed her body against his. The smell of her was intoxicating to him, and he trembled even as, much to his shock, he felt himself becoming aroused again.
"Didn't think you could again, eh?" said Morgan, nibbling at the base of his neck. "You might be interested to know, your friend wants me to let you go."
Lance moaned. "No! Please don't! Please don't let me go. Morgan, please ..."
"Hush, my love." She placed a finger against his lips. "No need to worry. Morgan is going to take care of everything." She ran her fingers along the length of his body, and drifted toward his groin. "Everything ..." she said languorously.
Chaptre the Fourteenth
The renovated storefront now had a huge banner draped across it, reading Arthur penn for mayor headquarters. Situated several blocks away from Arthur's main office in the Camelot Building, the move had been made due to space needs, not to mention higher visibility.
Arthur and company now had 1200 square feet, and although at first that seemed like a staggeringly large amount of room, it had become filled up pretty quickly.
Arthur had laughed the first time he saw campaign posters with his picture plastered on them at bigger-than-life size. Below his picture was the tag line, Arthur Penn-Common Sense. Over the months Arthur's prevailing attitude of "Don't bother me with countless facts, they only get in the way of making decisions" had become fashionable. Arthur had rapidly become a candidate with broad appeal. His no-nonsense attitude was refreshing, and his self-possession came across superbly both in person and on camera.
It was eight a.m. now, and he sat hunched with Ronnie Cordoba, a list of meetings and appearances between them. Arthur was shaking his head in despair. "Are these all really necessary, Ronnie?" he was asking. "Why can't I just continue as I have been?"
"Because you need more concentrated media exposure," Ronnie was saying. He leaned back in the creaking wooden chair. "Your earlier tactics were fine, Arthur, in terms of basic introduction. But the Democratic and Republican primaries are just around the corner, and the election only two months after that. We're just kicking into high gear now."
"Just kicking into high gear? Ronnie, look at this schedule." He slapped the piece of paper.
"Appearing in front of groups I've never heard of to discuss subjects I know nothing about."
"It would help if you had a speech writer and standardized talks," said Ronnie reasonably.
Arthur stood and hooked his thumbs into his vest. "Now we've been all through this. I don't want to hire somebody to write for me what I'm going to say."
"But everyone else does!" complained Ronnie.
"Yes, and they all sound homogenized-that's the word, isn't it? Gwen used it the other day."
"Where is Gwen anyway?" asked Ronnie.
Arthur shrugged. "She's had something on her mind the past few days. I've tried not to pressure her about it. I've generally discovered with women that it's not a good idea to try to make them talk when they don't want to. They'll generally come around."
Merlin walked in, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. "Morning all," he said. "Percy's right behind me-he's stopping to get a bagel." He shook his head. "Fascinating thing, a bagel."