FORTY-ONE
"Are you fond of hunting, Your Majesty?"
Guinevere looked up from her food to find Lancelot's eyes on her. What had he asked? Something about hunting.
She shook her head. "Hunting was my brother's passion, not mine. I had a whole castle to see to, with little time for trips into the forest around our home. Besides, the only weapon I know how to wield is a knife, and there is very little honour in slaying something small and feeble enough to fall beneath the blade of my eating knife." She brandished her knife, plunged it into a piece of turnip, and popped it into her mouth.
Lancelot laid his own eating knife on the table. "I have seen men slain in battle with a blade no bigger than this. Skilled assassins can kill with blades far smaller and sharper. Why, if you had been of
