Christmas in Camelot - Mary Pope Osborne [3]
They followed Morgan over the bridge and through a tall gate. There were no signs of life in the castle’s inner courtyard.
“Where is everyone?” Annie whispered to Jack.
“I don’t know,” he whispered back. Jack really wished they had a book about Camelot. It might help them understand what was going on.
Morgan led them to a huge archway with two wooden doors. She stopped and looked at them.
“I am afraid no book would help you tonight, Jack,” she said.
Jack was startled that Morgan had read his thoughts.
“Why not?” asked Annie.
“On all your other journeys, you visited real places and times in history,” said Morgan. “Camelot is different.”
“How?” said Jack.
“The story of Camelot is a legend,” said Morgan. “A legend is a story that begins in truth. But then imagination takes over. Different people in different times tell the story. They use their imaginations to add new parts. That is how a legend is kept alive.”
“Tonight we’ll add our part,” said Annie.
“Yes,” said Morgan. “And please, I beg you”—in the lantern light, she looked very serious—“do not let the story of Camelot end forever. Keep our kingdom alive.”
“Of course we will!” said Annie.
“Good,” said Morgan. “Come, then. Let us go into the great hall and see the king.”
Morgan lifted an iron latch and pushed open the heavy doors. Jack and Annie followed her into the dark castle.
A pair of torches dimly lit the drafty entrance hall of the castle. Shadows danced on the worn tapestries.
“Wait here,” said Morgan. “I will tell the king of your arrival.” She headed through the huge stone archway that led to the great hall.
“Let’s peek in,” Annie said to Jack.
Jack pushed his glasses into place. He and Annie walked quietly over to the big arch and peered in.
The ceiling of the great hall towered high above a stone floor. At the far end of the room, King Arthur and his knights were sitting around a huge, round table. They all wore brown tunics. They had shaggy hair and beards. Their names were carved in gold letters on the backs of their chairs.
“The Knights of the Round Table!” whispered Jack.
Morgan was talking to King Arthur. Beside the king sat a woman in a plain gray robe. She had pale skin and brown, curly hair.
“Queen Guinevere,” whispered Annie.
Morgan left the king, and Jack and Annie moved quickly back into the shadows. A moment later, Morgan appeared.
“I told the king that two special friends of his have just arrived,” she said. “Come with me.”
As they walked with Morgan through the great hall, Jack shivered. The huge room was drafty and damp. There was no fire in the fireplace. The stone floor was so cold that Jack could feel the chill through his sneakers.
They stopped near the Round Table. King Arthur stared at them with his piercing gray eyes.
“Greetings from Frog Creek,” Annie said to the king and queen. Annie bowed, and Jack bowed, too.
The queen smiled. But King Arthur did not.
“Your Majesty, you remember Jack and Annie?” said Morgan. “You met them last summer in my library?”
“Indeed, I shall never forget them,” King Arthur said softly. “Greetings, Annie. Greetings, Jack. How do you come to be in Camelot on this bleak night?”
“We came in the magic tree house,” said Annie.
A shadow crossed the king’s face. He looked at Morgan.
“No, Your Majesty. I did not use my magic to bring them here,” she said. “Perhaps a bit of magic still lingers in the tree house, and it traveled on its own.”
What’s going on? Jack wondered. Why does King Arthur seem unhappy about the magic tree house?
King Arthur looked back at Jack and Annie.
“However you have come, you are welcome in my kingdom,” he said. He turned to the queen. “Guinevere, these are the two friends who once gave me hope and courage in a time of need.”
Queen Guinevere smiled again. But there was a sad look in her eyes. “I have heard much about you,” she said.
“I’ve heard about you, too!” said Annie.
“Allow me to present my knights,” said King Arthur. “Sir Bors, Sir Kay, Sir Tristram … ”
As the king named each knight, Jack and Annie nodded shyly. The knights