Christmas in Camelot (2 page)

“Morgan!” shouted Annie.

Jack held his breath, waiting to see the enchantress at the tree house window. But Morgan did not appear.

Annie grabbed the rope ladder and started up. Jack followed.

When they climbed inside the tree house, Jack saw something lying on the floor. It was a scroll, rolled up and tied with a red velvet ribbon.

Jack picked up the scroll and unrolled it. The thick, yellowed paper shimmered with large gold writing.

“Wow, Morgan sent us a really fancy note,” said Annie.

“It's an invitation,” said Jack. “Listen.”

“Christmas in Camelot!”
said Annie. “I don't believe it!”

“Cool,” whispered Jack. He pictured a beautiful, glowing castle lit with candles and filled with knights and ladies feasting and singing.

“We're going to celebrate Christmas with Morgan and King Arthur!” said Annie. “And Queen Guinevere!”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “And the Knights of the Round Table, like Sir Lancelot!”

“Let's go!” said Annie. “Where's the book?”

She and Jack looked around the tree house for a book about Camelot. The only book they saw was the Pennsylvania book that always brought them home.

“That's strange,” said Jack. “Morgan didn't send a book about Camelot with the Royal Invitation. How does she expect us to get there?”

“I don't know,” said Annie. “Maybe she forgot.”

Jack picked up the invitation. He read it again. He turned it over, hoping to find more information. The back of the scroll was blank. He handed the invitation to Annie.

“She must have forgotten,” he said.

“Darn,” said Annie, staring at the gold writing. “I really wish we could go to Camelot.”

The tree branches rustled.

The wind began to blow.

“What's happening?” said Jack.

“I don't know—” said Annie.

“Wait a minute,” said Jack. “You were holding the invitation, and you made a wish.… ”

The wind blew harder.

“That must have made the magic work!” cried Annie.

Jack felt a surge of joy.

“We're going to Camelot!” he said.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.

J
ack shivered. He could see his breath in the dim light.

Annie was staring out the window. “
This
is Camelot?” she said.

Jack looked out with her. The tree house had landed in a grove of tall, bare trees. A huge, dark castle loomed against the gray sky. No light shone from its windows. No banners waved from its turrets. Wind whistled through its tall towers, sounding sad and lonely.

“It looks deserted,” said Annie.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I hope we came to the right place.”

Jack pulled his notebook and pencil out of his pack. He wanted to write a description of the dark castle.

“Hey, I see someone,” said Annie.

Jack looked out the window again.

A woman was crossing the castle drawbridge. She wore a long cloak and carried a lantern. Her white hair blew in the wind.

“Morgan!” said Annie and Jack together. They laughed with relief.

Morgan hurried over the frost-covered ground toward the grove of trees. “Annie? Jack? Is that you?” she called.

“Of course! Who'd you think?” shouted Annie. She started down from the tree house.

Jack threw his notebook into his backpack. He followed Annie down the rope ladder. When they reached the icy ground, they ran to Morgan and both threw their arms around her.

“I was looking out a window in the castle and saw a bright flash in the orchard,” said Morgan. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn't send the tree house for us?” asked Jack.

“With a Royal Invitation to spend Christmas in Camelot?” asked Annie.

“No!” said Morgan. She sounded alarmed.

“But the invitation was signed with an
M,
” said Jack.

“I don't understand … ,” said Morgan. “We are not celebrating Christmas in Camelot this year.”

“You aren't?” said Jack.

“Why not?” said Annie.

A look of sadness crossed Morgan's face. “Do you remember when you visited my library and gave King Arthur the hope and courage to challenge his enemy?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Jack.

“Well, Arthur's enemy was a man named Mordred,” said Morgan. “After you left, Arthur defeated him, but not before Mordred's Dark Wizard cast a spell over the whole kingdom. The spell robbed Camelot of all its joy.”

“What? All its
joy
?” whispered Annie.

“Yes,” said Morgan. “For months, Camelot has been without music, without celebration, and without laughter.”

“Oh, no,” said Annie.

“What can we do to help?” said Jack.

Morgan smiled sadly. “This time, I don't think you can do anything,” she said. “But perhaps it will lift Arthur's spirits to see you both again. Come, let us go inside the castle.”

Morgan held up her lantern and started toward the drawbridge.

Jack and Annie hurried after her. As they walked through the outer courtyard, the frozen grass cracked under their sneakers.

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.