Catfantastic II

The other knights laughed at us and my lord the king looked rather sad that I had never so favored him, for he was very fond of cats and had given me as a kitten into my lady's service, but I was shameless. My mother always told me it is a wise creature who knows her own mind and I knew that I wanted to be with Lancelot. Not that I ever got to spend a great deal of time with him. My lady would always come to pluck me away, though often I managed to bring with me a bit of fabric or a strand of hair for a souvenir, to purr over at some later time. Lady Elaine, my lady's minion, once tried removing me and all I will say about that is that she never tried again. Lancelot himself was too polite and too afraid of offending my lady to swat at me. Also, I am quite sure he admired me from afar, for as events revealed, at one time he was fond of cats, despite his malady, and my fur is very soft and my purr is very soothing, as my lady has so often said. I used to hope that one day his iron will would overcome his unfortunate reactions to my presence.

Alas, we never had the chance to find out, for my lady, at the instigation of that beastly Elaine, shut me up in the privy tower whenever Lancelot was in the vicinity. After the time when I almost fell into the hole and had to be rescued after hanging on by a clawtip and screaming for hours before anyone heard me, I decided that my attraction to Lancelot was merely a superficial one, and whatever silly problems Lancelot had to overcome, he would simply have to find some other cat to train him out of them.

Never let it be said that I am anything but generous and patient to a fault, but I had my position to think of and my lady could not be expected to do without my services for long periods of time just because a mere knight, no matter how worthy, had what was really a rather comical reaction to cats.

So I hid. I hid in the little hollow of the crown at the top of Arthur's throne, under the Round Table, and on nice days in one of the arrow slits overlooking the moat. I particularly liked the top of the canopied beds because I couldn't be got down before I made sure the tapestries, as well as arms and faces, suffered, and I knew very well how much Lady Elaine hated mending. After a while, they forgot to look for me, and I once again assumed my rightful duties as my lady's chief confidante of overseeing the business of the castle.

I could have told them never to let those two in. Mordred and that so-called cat of his. Any cat worth the water to drown her in could have told them that Mordred was the sort of boy who torments cats with unspeakable indignities (and I should know), not the sort to share a morsel and pillow and a bit of companionship with one of us. That alone should have warned them, as I could not, but since it did not, they should have realized what those two were up to at once when that so-called cat snuggled up to Lancelot and he didn't so much as sniffle.

That should have told the humans, poor things, that something distinctly fishy was brewing and it wasn't chowder. I knew at once, of course. The creature's accent was dreadful and her ma

I was in the garden when they arrived, Mordred riding his golden steed, the creature in a basket in front of him. I was paying no attention whatsoever to traffic but was efficiently rearranging the piled leaves the gardeners had gathered. My lady, His Majesty, and Sir Lancelot were playing dominoes on a nearby bench. Mordred, sweet as pie, dismounted, lifting down the basket more tenderly, I swear, than he ever did anything. To no avail. The nasty creature hopped out, landing with a plop in the middle of my leaves, where she sat as if she belonged. Naturally, I hissed at her and told her whose territory she was invading before giving her a pawful across the nose. She did not even do me the courtesy of hissing back. She did not raise a hair, did not arch her back. She merely flipped her tail as she deftly avoided my paw, rose, and sprang' straight onto Lancelot's lap.

I crouched expectantly, quick thumps of my tail sending the leaves flying like so many gold and orange birds flushed from the flock. Soon she would get her comeuppance as he sneezed and swelled. I was not greatly surprised that no one else stirred themselves to remove her. It had been some months since I had made my private, privy-bound decision to leave the man to his own devices. I've noticed people have very short memories when it comes to who suffers what ailments, and a good thing that is, too, I suppose. But when, after several minutes, the knight's long fingers strayed to stroke her sleek black-and-red mottled fur, and his eyes didn't swell and he did not cough or sneeze, I confess I was quite insulted. To all appearances, he was unperturbed by the newcomer. To all appearances, therefore, he was not allergic to cats in general, but to myself in particular.

Not that I cared, mind you. I'd given up on the man as hopeless already. I sat washing the fur of my stomach with disdainful licks, so that he should see my indifference when he glanced my way. But he did not glance my way. While Mordred charmed Their Majesties with soft words, the tortoiseshell slitted her sly gold eyes at my lady's Champion and purred in a disgustingly ingratiating ma

I entertained myself listening to Mordred, who was attempting to convey greetings from the exiled witch, Morgan le Fay, the King's sister. His Majesty did not want to hear about it. I have heard rumors that the witch was exiled for plotting the King's murder. I have also heard rumors that she once stole Excalibur and arranged for the disappearance of the king's old tutor, the wizard Merlin. Whatever the king's true reason for her banishment, to him it was an urgent one: that brave and kind man's brow sweated at the mere mention of her name.

My lady the queen nodded politely at everything Mordred said, but stretched out her hand to the newcomer in Lancelot's lap, who arched so that her head butted my lady's palm. Well! That was enough for me. I bounded from my leaf pile, not that anyone noticed, and twined about my lady's ankles, plaintively reminding her who was her trusted associate and who was not. I was poised to jump up when Lancelot, the traitor, began sneezing and snotting and, though I couldn't see for my lady's skirts, swelling, I am sure. To my great satisfaction the tortoiseshell horror was dumped from his lap and I did a bit of swelling myself and lashed for her with my front paws. Bat-a-bat-bat! I would give her, mincing her nose, which would teach her to bring it interfering into the business of others.

But once more she neither cowered nor raised a hair to attack. She simply sat there and then, as I was poised to strike, emitted the most unfeline meow. Well! Really! I halted in mid-swipe, amazed at her dreadful shredding of our mutual language. Not even her apparent origin in the country could account for such noise. Before I could administer the chastisement due such a creature, a pair of rough hands grabbed me up, nearly breaking my ribs, and flung me into the fish pond.

If I had had any delusions that Mordred contained a scrap of decency, they would have vanished at that moment.

I dashed back into the kitchen to complain to cook's mouser, who laughed at my soaked and bedraggled condition as heartily as ever did his mistress but allowed me a place by the fire. I make it a point to be always on good terms with the kitchen cat, as I may have mentioned.

From this inauspicious entrance, Mordred and his familiar, as I believed her to be, continued to ever more dastardly deeds. Mordred kept the King constantly upset, though he was outwardly polite to everyone else, especially smarmy to my lady and Lancelot. And that beast never let Lancelot alone while he was in the castle. And he tolerated her. He even seemed to like her. He never swelled at her, or sneezed at her, or broke out in spots from her. He was quite pleased with himself and with her, looking at her as if he had composed her himself.