Now that’s what Isabel liked. A chambermaid with excellent taste. “Yes, you and I are going to get along really well, Mary.”

“I am assured we are, m’lady.”

Isabel didn’t even need to ask who, or what, assured Mary as Isabel again touched her necklace. “Bring on the wine and the bath.”

“Done.”

“How are you with hair, Mary?”

“Do you need me to be good with hair, Countess?”

“I really do.”

“Then, yes, m’lady, I am very good with hair.”

As primitive as this all was, Isabel felt amazingly pampered. The gallons of bath water carted to her room had been too hot at first, but Mary had sprinkled lavender and rosemary in the tub. It was wonderfully soothing. Afterward Mary made good on her promise, roping Isabel’s hair and then wrapping it into something of a bun, but with a twist, then a long, elaborate ponytail.

Mary had also added a brass broach to the left side of Isabel’s waist. By the time Tom and Dick escorted her down to the dining area, she felt almost queenlike. Time to meet the real queen. Wonderful.

ISABEL met both Lancelot and Guinevere at supper that night. Gwen, as King Arthur called her, was as nice as nice could be. She was a beautiful young thing; young being the operative word. Her hair was auburn, pulled back in an elaborate bun, a circlet of tiny gems gracing her disgustingly devoid-of-a-single-wrinkle forehead.

Isabel wanted to ask what face cream she used, until it occurred to her that Gwen was still nearly a child. Isabel wasn’t allowed to date at her age, much less marry and cheat on her husband. If Gwen hadn’t been so sweetly gracious, Isabel would have loved to hate her. The queen had the scent of rose petals emanating from her, which was a welcome smell compared to the sweat and animal odors that invaded even this dining room.