The Exile

-Guinevere Alone –

  Chapter One1
 
 
 
              Sunlight beamed down through the receding morning mist. Already the people of Camelot's capital city, former friends were going about their routines. Black smoke puffed from the chimney of the smithy, Grif the butcher drug a squealing pig into his shop, and the fragrance of fresh bread drifted through the Lowtown. On any other morning she might have treated herself to a small loaf of bread and fresh butter, waved to Grif or stopped to speak with Jeordi the head black smith. On any other morning she might have visited these friends and found herself welcome. On this morning though they must –by law- turn her out or risk sharing her banishment, all hands were against her now.

              Enid whom she had often thought of as a sister merely stood in the door of her cottage watching her slow steady progress up the street. When Guinevere drew near the woman's home Enid whispered something in her daughter's ear and ducked into her home pulling her child with her. Gwen spared a glance for the wooden door shut tight against her and told herself to keep going.

              It was the same with everyone she saw. No one met her eyes, no smiles encouraged her. Even Merlin with whom she had shared so much could only look upon with melancholy eyes as grey as the morning mist. Still there was one thing to be grateful for. The banishment had happened quickly and though rumors had already begun to spread there were very few people out and about. She'd seen unlucky felons detained three, four, five days before sentencing and banishment, allowing time enough for the news to saturate the populace. In those cases the unlucky outcast found the simple act of exiting the Lowtown a circus-like ordeal of
humiliation at the hands of their former friends and countrymen. Yet another mercy Arthur had shown her.
              Gwen halted. How had she come to the walls encircling the Lowtown so quickly? She knew she should be moving forward, but every part of her wanted turn and run back to him. To throw herself at his feet and beg –yes beg- him to forgive, not force her away from him, she'd waited so long. Perhaps the speed of her sentencing and expulsion was no mercy after all. If people had been throwing things at her, calling her adulteress and worse; passing under the white stone archway would have been a relief. As it was Gwen felt she might stand forever at that arch.

              "Hullloo Gwen!"

              Guinevere peered down the road from Camelot. It was one of the older roman roads wide enough for three men to walk abreast, it would make at least part of her journey easier. It was what or rather who stood beside the road that held her attention; a tall, broad shoulder figure stood waving. In her ideal world Guinevere would have avoided anyone that knew her or her shame. Merlin had not approached her so she had not approached him.  Gwaine it seemed would not be so easily avoided. She took a deep breath and left her home behind.
 
                  "Gwaine?" She could manage no more than his name for greeting.

                  "My lady Guinevere."

                  "Don't call me that." She admonished him.

                  "I've always called you that and I always will."

                  Her only reply was to sigh and purse her lips.

                  "I've come to see you off." Gwaine caught her chin with between his thumb and forefinger.

                  "Thank you."

                  "I'll walk with you for a-ways.  Save your strength and let me take this for a bit."

                  Guinevere let him take the cart without argument.

                  "Any thoughts on where you'll be going?"

                  "The only place I know is Ealdor?"

                  "Cenred's lands." Gwaine frowned, "There's no King there now. It could be dangerous. "

                  "Merlin's mother Hunith lives there, I think if things were going badly they would have sent word."

                  "More than likely you are correct, but you should have options."

                  "You offer a suggestion?"

                 "You could head to Caerleon. Queen Annis is a fair ruler if her husband was not, their lands are prosperous. You should be able to find work there. You could also go to Wyledon. I lived there for a time it is exciting place. It borders Caerleon and is near the sea."
              Guinevere nodded for her reply.

              "If you do go to Wyledon find Adras of the Five Hands. He's a friend heads a little group. They make a good living, they are fair to women and you can learn a lot."

              Guinevere couldn't help, but wonder what this group did.

              "Take this." He handed her simple gold chain with an unfamiliar flower. "Give it to Adras. He'll know I sent you."

              Guinevere took the chain. She knew enough about Gwaine's past to know that she might not want to meet with his friends, but you never knew when a recommendation might come in handy.

              "Now I've got a few other farewell gifts for you. This is from the staff." He handed her a leather satchel. Inside it Guinevere found a purse heavy with coppers, a meal for her lunch, the cap Enid had been knitting for her daughter -It would actually match her travel cape perfectly-,a  belt knife that Elyan had made for himself years ago and most importantly two envelopes that could only be letters of recommendation.  Guinevere felt her throat tighten and the start of tears in her eyes.

              "Hey this is supposed to make you feel better."

              "It is." She managed the two words somehow. "I just wasn't expecting such generosity."

              "Guinevere you've got a lot of people here that love you in spite of everything. You're not the first person to make a mistake."

              She sniffed and swallowed this fresh well of tears at his kind words.

              "Thank you Gwaine. Tell them I won't forget this. That their kindness means more to me than anything else they could have done. Tell Elyan I love him and I hope we meet again."

              "I'll tell them Guinevere. I've got to start back soon otherwise I'll be missed."

              She nodded and was surprised when he pulled her into a quick rough hug.

              "Be careful Gwen and write us when you are settled. We all want to know that you're safe. Even he'll want to know."

              She didn't say anything to that just nodded and took the handle of the cart. She had to get going if she were going to reach Longstead by nightfall.  Somehow she found her steps a little lighter now.
 
             ****************************************

The Exile

-Guinevere Alone-

Chapter Two

              Guinevere opened her eyes and felt the chill splash of rain on her face. She stuck her head outside. A steady rain – unseasonably cold - fell from the sky. She ducked her head back inside with a sigh and lay down. It had been rain much like this that had fallen on that morning when she'd woken to find Lancelot gone and herself alone with Merlin and Arthur. She bit her bottom lip in annoyance; she hated thinking about that morning. At first it had been because of Lancelot, who had sworn love to her and then abandoned her almost immediately. Later she hated thinking about it for coolness she had shown Arthur though he had no right to expect otherwise at the time. For months after that she had been especially friendly to the Prince of Camelot. Not overtly so, but enough so that he might see that she did not think so very much of Lancelot.

              She watched the splish-splash of the water onto her bedding for a while, a puddle was forming. Guinevere cupped her hand under the drip until she held a mouthful. One good thing about a steady rainfall was fresh water for no effort. The would-be Queen drank her mouthful and got up. She could not lie about thinking all day if she was going to escape Camelot in the prescribed period of time.

              In this weather there could be no fire so she had a cold breakfast of dried fruits and meat before dressing in soggy clothing and getting on the road for the day. She had to reach Bayberry by nightfall; if for no other reason than a night indoors might allow her things to fully dry. Guinevere studied the sky as she began her day's walk.  Silver grey clouds and rain obscured the sun, but even in the grey dimness she could tell the sun was well-up. It seemed each morning that no matter what she told herself before retiring for the night that she woke later and later.  At this rate she would need more than the ten days she had initially planned. Gwen tallied her progress; she was averaging about 30 miles daily, not too bad. At this pace she'd reach her destination in 12 days. It still left her an eight day cushion in case of the unexpected.

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              Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was something else, but with the exception of two lone horsemen Gwen had the road to herself for nearly two hours of travel.  It was just past mid-morn when she heard the pound of many hooves on the road behind her. Her heart began a tom-tom beat in her breast and she felt a tremble run through her body. She didn’t know who the horsemen might be, but she did not want to meet them. Quickly Guinevere turned her cart off the road and hurried into the little dip at the roadside thankful that here, at least, vegetation grew thick, dense and high, and that the road ran higher than the land about it. She forced the cart into the thicket and then dropped flat to wriggle back into the undergrowth herself. Once the shrubbery and grass enclosed her Gwen cleared the screen of vegetation before her eyes. She watched barely daring to breathe as mail-suited men in scarlet capes bearing the sign of the golden dragon rode by.  She did not see Sir Leon, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan or heaven forbid Arthur amongst them, but she recognized Sir Kay and a few others. There were certainly knights amongst this group that would recognize her too.

              Guinevere may have been perfectly within her rights to use the road, but that did not mean she wanted to see anyone that knew her shame. She lay hidden in the bushes for a very long time after they passed. And as she lay hiding a new thought came to her.

              The Knight's mission she could not guess, but she knew people would ask them questions. The people would ask for the news of the Kingdom. They would ask about King Arthur's wedding, about his commoner bride... Her stomach roiled and she tasted bile in the back of her throat as tears moistened her eyes. The gossip would be ahead of her now.  It would not be hard to guess who she might be. While it would not be illegal to help her or rent her a room; that did not mean anyone would. She'd have to give a false name, and she'd need a story to explain who she was, why she was on the road by herself. The trembling began anew. Her journey was about to get worse, much worse.

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              Blue and white silk caressed her skin, flowed over legs; seed pearls gleamed with their iridescence on a web work of pale lilac embroidery. This was the last day her hair would flow freely. When she woke on the morrow she would be a woman wed. Arthur, she thought suddenly of their wedding night…There would be no more resistance of their mutual passion. Indeed their duty to Camelot required them to see their passion for one and other through to its logical conclusion time and again. Gwen felt a pleasant tightening low in her belly as she recalled Arthur's hands slipping across the material of her bodice lower and lower, but always with that fabric betwixt them. Tonight though- Fire coursed through her veins and she looked up from the embroidery of her skirt at the sound of the door opening.

              Lancelot!

              But he was dead!

              What was he doing here!?

              Why was she going to him!!?

              Putting her arms around him!!??

              Touching his lips to hers!!!!

              She screamed a soundless stop. Tried to make her body do something, anything: tear away from him, hit him…But she seemed to act under the will of another seemed to be watching from someplace else. Gwen looked away from the couple: saw Arthur in his wedding finery, felt the waves of heart break wash over him, wash over her.

              "Girl!"

              All of hell in his eyes- they were destroying him!

              "Girl!"

              She was destroying him!

              Pain lanced through her side and Guinevere focused on it as an escape from that which she wanted no part of. She opened her eyes to a dark world awash with tears.

              "Fool of a girl!"

              In the flickering light of a single lantern she saw a face hard, bitter and female twisted with annoyance. Guinevere took in the dark room, the plaster wall, and the banked coals of the fireplace. She was in the inn; she'd paid for a pallet on the floor, a place to dry her rain sodden things, two hot meals: supper and breakfast.

              "Yer awake at last."

              "Yes." She replied, her voice husky with sleep.

              "Good I've folded your things for you. Now get you gone."

              "It's not sun-up yet."

              "No its not and make no mistake I'll not have you here past that time."

              She shrank away for a moment.

              "That’s right I know who you are and if you don't get moving very soon the entire village will know it as well."

              "My breakfast-"

              "-Is packed and it's more than you deserve, selfish jade. Its women like you that make it hard for the rest of us. Your wash water is heated. It's your choice if you use it, but I expect you out in no more than half-an-hour."

              For a long moment Gwen stared at the woman.

              "Well get moving."

              The would-be queen pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the sigh in her muscles. She washed with the water the woman had promised, dressed and packed her things, taking only enough time to make certain that nothing was left behind.  Outside the village Guinevere stopped to eat the breakfast the woman had packed. Stale bread, day old porridge, and boiled eggs made up her meal. The fresh bread the innkeeper had boasted of on the previous night was only beginning to bake as she was getting on the road. When she was done Guinevere probed her aching side with gentle fingers. That woman had kicked her. The easy part of her journey was indeed over.


___________________________________
 
 
              Mary awoke to her husband shaking her and his worried face.

              "She's gone."

              "What?" She glanced to the window the sun wasn't even fully risen.

              "Been gone for some time now I think I ran the length of the village and went along the road for a ways no sign of her."

              "Blast it."

              "She left this note."

              He thrust the paper in her direction and she glared at him.

              "Sorry." He apologized and began reading:

                     Dear Aunt & Uncle,

                  I am so sorry to leave without saying good-bye, but I feared that you would endanger yourselves by trying to accompany me or keep me from leaving altogether. I love you both too much to allow that. You have probably guessed that I have been banished from court and all of Camelot. I have only myself to blame for this. I cannot yet put into writing all that has happened, but I know you will learn in time.

              When you do learn please forgive me for the shame I have brought upon my family. Also please do not be angry with Elyan. If you knew all that had passed you would understand his actions and he is also our family.

            I am making for Ealdor and shall write to you when I am settled there.

                                                                                                  Love Your Niece,

                                                                                                  Gwen

              "That child she is just like her mother!" Mary snatched the letter from her husband and studied it as if she might learn something more of her niece's fate from it.

              "What d'you suppose might have happened?"

              "How should I know?" She glared and saw him pull back a bit. "Sorry, I'm just so worried about her."

              The older woman got out of bed.

              "She's Jane's only daughter and the only one that looks anything like grandmam and she's leaving us too now."

              "She seemed so happy when she was here before." John mused.

              "Yes she did. She and the king seemed so in love." Mary sighed and pulled her shawl around her shoulders. "It was sweet the way the two of them were. Reminded me of you and I when we were young."

              "Well then everything will be all right." John got to his feet.

              "What do you mean by that?"

              He gave her arms an affectionate squeeze.

              "If he loves her half as much as I love you then everything will work itself out."

              "That's sweet John, but it's not safe out there alone."

              "I know and that's why I am going to go and look for her."

              "Thank you." She smiled finally.

              "Think about this though. Gwen is smart, and brave, and resourceful, and regardless of how hard things are getting for her she will be fine."

              "I hope you're right."

             
_______________________________


              Gwen lit her lamp and worried over the waste of fuel. She shouldn't have been trying to camp in the dark, she should have selected her campsite long before now, but then she should have been sleeping on a pallet indoors. 
The young woman looked over her should in the direction of Breghed. The only person that had recognized her in Bayberry had been the innkeeper's wife. In Breghed two days later everyone seemed to have a guess about who she might be and though by law she could have stayed in the village she'd been met with glares. She'd finally approached a tall, dark-haired woman that looked less hostile than everyone else. The woman had glared, said some very unpleasant things and slammed her door. None of the other villagers looked any friendlier and Gwen had hurried through as fast as she could.

              It was impossible really to look for a campsite in the dark. The waning moon was less than half full now, its light did not penetrate the forest and her little lantern only gave her a view of a few feet. What if she accidentally selected a game trail or some such? What if she fell and broke her neck?

              "Guinevere." A woman's voice called to her from the darkness, "You don't know me, but I want to help you."

              She looked in the speaker's direction.

              "They're wrong, you know. I mean, to turn you out like this. If the King had wanted you dead he'd have ordered your execution and he didn't. So who are we to turn death into exile?"

              A dark-haired woman came into view and Gwen stared in surprise.

              "You-"

              "-I'm sorry. My name is Tilda and I have my own reputation to consider."

              Gwen recognized the woman that had called her names and slammed the door in her face.

              "Come I know these woods. There's a ruined mansio not far at all, but you'd never find it if you didn't know where to look for it. "

              Each of them took hold of the cart with a hand piece and held their lanterns high with the other. Tilda led her to a collapsing villa.

              "It's not as nice as it was during the days of the empire, but people respect the traditions around it still and you should be safe here."

             They found a stonewalled room and got a fire going while Gwen unpacked the things she'd need for the night.

             "Since it's not part of the village you won't have to hurry off." When the fire was crackling merrily, Tilda handed her a parcel and turned to go.

              "Wait a moment. Thank you, but why?"

             "My sister was an adulteress, she suffered mightily for it."

             "Oh. I'm sorry."

             "Don't be." Tilda hurried off into the dark. "I'll try to come by in the morning."

              Gwen unwrapped the parcel and felt her mouth water as the fragrance of roast pigeon wafted toward her.


________________________________________

 The Exile

-Guinevere Alone-

Chapter 3

           It had rained whilst she slept. Water glistened on tree leaves, puddles dotted the crumbling halls of the mansio and birdsong filled the morning air as robins, sparrows and jays took advantage of tiny rivers formed during the night. She had explored the mansio briefly this morning. There wasn't really very much to see, most if it had crumbled through the centuries since its abandonment. The only remotely solid room was the one Tilda had brought her to.

          The room located in the heart of the mansio, shielded on all sides by other crumbling rooms. The ceiling was mostly whole and again Guinevere assumed that it was the interior location that had protected it. Even the elements had worn away the ceiling and walls so that rain and sun leaked through.

          Guinevere studied her map under the sun's weak watery light. She was halfway to the border and she still hadn't made a decision about Ealdor or Wyeledon. The sensible choice was Ealdor, she knew people there, and would be made very welcome. She could probably set up a very simple existence, get a cottage built do some farming. She'd lived most of her life in the city but as a child when she'd visited her Aunt and Uncle's she'd helped them with farming and chores she could do that work, live that life. Something inside of her resisted the idea of that simplicity though. She wondered about Wyeledon, a place she had never been with people she had never known. She studied the chain Sir Gwaine had given her and its strange five-petaled flower. Adras Five Hands? What kind of name was that? And what kind of friends did Gwaine have?

         Guinevere traced the simple lines of the heart shaped petals and considered the things she knew about Gwaine. He was charming, a flirt, disdained nobility until proven otherwise and he could be a bit of a hot-head, but he also had his own sense of honor and decency. She couldn't imagine him doing anything cruel or truly evil. So perhaps his friends were not so bad? Arthur and Merlin were his friends. She was his friend. She heard footsteps and tucked the chain under her blouse next to the ring Arthur had given her.

         "Gwen?"

        She looked up and saw Tilda.

          "Good morning." She gave the other woman a smile. Seeing Tilda in the daylight Gwen realized that the other woman was quite handsome. Glossy black hair framed a pretty if strong face and dark brown eyes rich with secrets measured her in return.

         "I've brought you some milk and fresh bread with butter and honey."

         Guinevere felt a smile overtake her face. She hadn't had milk since last spring and fresh bread was always a treat. Tilda hand her a cloth wrapped loaf and a little stone jug of creamy milk. For a moment she couldn't decide which to have first. Then she unstoppered the jug and sipped at the milk. It was heavy and slightly warm; with sweet rich bits of pulpy cream. She savored the weight and richness of it letting her tongue absorb the taste as she swallowed the cream beverage down. When it was down she smacked her lips a few times tasting all that was left in her mouth before unwrapping the bread. The oven fresh scent still clung to it. It wasn't a soft white bread as was served to royals and nobles, but instead a hearty brown with nutty flavors and rough texture like the difference betwixt linen and silk. Guinevere bit down into the bread the sweetness of honey and rich of butter making a perfect harmony with its nutty flavor. She savored this too, licking the crumbs from her fingers when she was done.

         "Thank you Tilda so much." Gwen wiped her fingers on the cloth the bread had been wrapped in and Tilda only gave her a smile.

        "How long will you remain?"

         "Not long I have to reach Ealdor in ten days."

         Tilda's lips pressed into a thin line and she thought maybe the older woman was thinking.

        "You'll continue on the Southern road?"

        "Yes."

       "Have you a map?"

       "Yes actually." She produced the piece of worked leather that Gwaine made his map from. Tilda studied it briefly.

       "I can find the road, but not where we might be."

       "I've studied a bit. I think we are perhaps here." She had managed to identify Bayberry and a couple of other landmarks. Tilda looked at the map again.

        "If we're here," She placed on stubby nailed finger on the map "and south is that way then I can give you an idea of where other mansio might be."

        Gwen felt her face brighten.

       "They're about 30 miles apart and run the length of the road. The next one might be here and then here." Tilda pointed to two spots on the map that looked like nothing more than forest. "Hand me your knife." The older woman scored the leather in two places.

        "How will I know where to look for them?"

        "I'll show you."

         Tilda got to her feet and Guinevere did the same. The two women walked along the halls of the mansio to its courtyard and there in the gaping hole that must have been the doorway.

        "Here and here." The other woman crouched and indicated sunken moss cover stones that must have once lined either of a now overgrown path. "They go all the way to the road the markers would be difficult to spot if you don't know what to look for."

        "You seem to know so much about these stations."

        "My family's people came to Wales to run the stations."

         "Oh."

        "I must get back. If I don't see you again God bless."

        "You also and thank you," Guinevere said with a smile and watched the other woman head into the forest.

________________________________________

          The Exile

   -Guinevere Alone-

          Interlude 1

This was wrong. Merlin woke with that thought on the second morning of Guinevere's exile. It stayed with him as he got out of bed, washed-up, dressed, got Arthur's breakfast and hurried to the King's chambers to wake him. Merlin had decided that it was best not to dwell on the subject for Arthur's sake and to behave as if life were normal for the moment.  He entered Arthur's receiving room breakfast in hand, prepared to wake the King and found him up, dressed and ready for the day.

              "Ahhh Merlin perfect timing." Arthur shut the door to his inner chambers and straightened his jerkin. "I've already reviewed my schedule for the day and I'm heading for the council chamber. Find my uncle and send him to him to me."

              The king strode across the room, took his breakfast from the tray and headed down the hall whistling.

              Merlin watched the King stride down the hall mouth agape. Of everything that he had planned for he certainly hadn't expected this. With Arthur already dressed and ready for his day Merlin had a little extra time. He found a page in the hall and told him to send Agravaine to the King in the council chambers and went to straighten up Arthur's room before joining Arthur in the aforementioned hall.  It took nothing to straighten up the King's receiving room, Arthur's taste were Spartan in nature and though he was not the neatest man her really left very little mess behind. So Merlin was only expecting make Arthur's bed, gather a few items for the laundry and maybe put away a few scrolls. He wasn't expecting the wreck in he found in the King's private chambers.  Every piece of furniture save the four-poster had been turned over, the drapes had been pulled down and destroyed, papers and scrolls were strewn everywhere. It looked as of the room had been destroyed for the sake of pure chaos. Worried suddenly Merlin hurried to the council chamber to make certain nothing had happened.

              -"The Picts your majesty?"

              Merlin heard Agravaine asking as he entered. Everything looked normal so nothing had happened to Arthur.

              "Yes it's very important all of the people of this Kingdom need to know how their King values them."

              "The Picts are nothing, but bog dwellers!"

              "That's as may be, but if you're serving Camelot Uncle that is where you'll be serving Camelot from otherwise you're free to leave my service and my Kingdom."

              "But sire surely I'm of more help to you here."

              Arthur's eyes met Agravaine's and Merlin felt the chill of that cool blue gaze.

"Your King has given you an order. Are you objecting to that order Lord Agravaine?"

Agravaine's face paled.

"Of course not sire." Agravaine bowed.

"You're dismissed." Arthur waved his hand casually and Merlin watched the other man walk away.

              "You're sending Agravaine away?"

              "Yes. The bog-dwellers as he so eloquently put it need a representative of the crown and I'm sick of looking at him who better than my Uncle."  Merlin said nothing pleased that Agravaine was finally gone.

              "Sire your rooms are-"

              "Yes I had a little accident sorry for the mess."

              "Little?"

              "Little."

The edge in Arthur's voice told Merlin the subject was closed.

    The Exile

-Guinevere Alone-

   Chapter 4: The Bear, the Bird and the Bandit

          Shaking in every limb, Guinevere wanted to merely collapse where she stood. But it was early yet, and she would not sleep as well on the bare forest floor as she would on a bed of grass and leaves. In the fading evening light, she ripped tufts of grass from the ground and stripped leaves from bushes. As she did so, Gwen scanned the forest flint rocks and edible leaves. By the time full dark came she had bed several inches high, mint leaves to chew, flint, and lavender leaves. With her bed made, she crushed lavender and spread it round her bed. The strong scent would discourage most predators. She'd also made her bed at the base of a tree just in case she needed a quick escape. With her bedding arranged Guinevere got to work on a fire. After a short while she laid down to sleep in cheery orange light.        

              Bunnies were the cutest animals surely, Guinevere thought to herself as she watched two cottontails, no more than a month old, hop over each other. One thumped the other in the head, and her mouth quirked up a bit at that. She knew she should be on the move, making her way back to the road; she should be walking south getting out of Camelot. Gwen put another mint leaf in her mouth and watched the puffy white tails disappear into the forest.

"All right, Guinevere, time to start your day." She pushed herself to her feet and fell back against the tree she'd based her camp at- legs watery-weak, eyes closed against the world's spinning. Gwen slid down into her bed of grass and sat unmoving until the nausea in her stomach subsided. She cracked one eye open and saw thankfully that the world had stilled. Her limbs continued to tremble, though, and Gwen knew she wasn't going far just yet. The ordeal on the river had been more draining than she realized. Tomorrow she would go on the road, now Gwen shut her eyes and let herself drift off into sleep. 

Hours later, she awoke, parched and made her way back to the river on shaking feet. Guinevere drank her fill of the chill spring water and headed back to her little camp. As she walked, Gwen spied a patch of strawberries she had somehow missed yesterday. She didn't have much of an appetite, but the would-be-Queen knew she needed to eat something.  The young woman filled her cape with a feast of berries.

              She woke late on the second day, feeling no more inclined to stir than she had on the first. Still, Gwen forced herself from her wilted bed and made her way back to the river for water, thinking. She really didn't know where she was, where she was going or what she might do when she got there and she'd lost just about  everything. The lethargy she'd woken with on the previous morning seemed to have gotten stronger. Guinevere listened to blue jays sing and tried to braid her tangled, matted hair.

              On the third day, she managed to throw a rock and kill one of those adorable bunnies that seemed to enjoy hanging about. It felt mean, but she was hungry. Quickly, she skinned, spitted the animal and set it above her fire to roast. While it roasted, she scraped the fat from the skin and set it to dry. The entrails, organs and such she buried several feet from her camp. When the rabbit was done roasting she ate it with several handfuls of berries. She should be on the move, but who would ever know she was here? Perhaps she could just stay here in the woods. Maybe she didn't have to choose.

              Guinevere opened her eyes. Why did her foot hurt? She looked down and saw her foot in the mouth of a large brown bear with a torn ear. Without thinking, Guinevere screamed and kicked the bear with her free leg. The bear looked up in puzzlement.  She screamed again and leapt to her feet. She absolutely had to get away! Thankful she'd placed her camp at the base of a tree Guinevere turned and shined up the tree's trunk until she was high, high in its branches and hopefully out of the bear's reach. The bear seemed to agree, as it didn't attempt to climb the tree, but sat back on its haunches and let out a roar. Metallic taste in her mouth body trembling with reaction the young woman stared at the bear and tried to think. 

              "Go away!"

The bear merely looked at her and then it stood up on its hind legs and leaned its bulk against the tree.  She screamed as her perch began to sway. How could she make this bear go away?

 A nest perched precariously in the branches above caught her eyes.  Guinevere pulled herself up as carefully as she could and found several eggs in the nest. Before she could question the wisdom of her next action, she forced her thumb through the top of one egg, made a hole and sucked down the contents. Then she lobbed one of the eggs at the bear who caught it, and as she had done a moment earlier cracked and drained it. Perhaps it could get full on eggs. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Guinevere began throwing the eggs at the bear. The bear seemed to think this was a great trick for it stopped shaking the tree and began chasing the eggs, catching and eating them with relish. The she heard a sound she'd been dreading, the call of an angry crow. With trembling fingers, Gwen yanked her hood up and dipped her face toward her chest. Not a moment later pain lanced through her scalp as she felt the bird's claws closing into the fabric of her cape. Gwen closed one hand around a tree limb and tried to think. Her knife belt! She didn't think she could stab the crow, but she might be able to swing the belt and strike it with the hilt. Ignoring the pain in her head, the girl fumbled her belt off and swung it up over her head. Her first blow struck home and the startled bird released her and flew upwards shrieking with rage.

Fearing to do so, but knowing she had no choice, Guinevere raised her head and felt her mouth go dry. The crow -black beak gleaming- was coming at her in a dive. Somehow, she kept her face upturned and waited-

-She had to hit it the first time. There wouldn't be a second chance. The crown came into sharp clear focus, drew nearer-

-She swung out, her aim more true than she could have ever hoped. Guinevere never knew if she stunned the bird or worse, but it dropped suddenly falling with the weight of a stone right into the outstretched paws of the bear. The bear, of course, found this to be an even better bounty and Guinevere heard the sound of bones snapping as ursine jaws closed round the crow's neck. She hoped he would be satisfied with her unintended gift.

The bear devoured the crow in a few bites and just as suddenly as it seemed to have come; it lumbered off into the woods. Still sitting in the tree Guinevere pulled off her boot and checked her left foot there were only bruises- no blood.  She sat a while in the tree and when the bear did not reappear, slid down to the ground. She looped the satchel across her body and took off at a brisk march, feeling more energetic than she had in days.

              Rather than going toward the road, Guinevere made up her mind to head south for the next four days. That would bring her well out of Camelot; the forest would provide everything she needed. On the fifth morning she would head west until she found the road. From there Gwen decided she would find Ealdor or some other village.  The moon rode full and white in the sky making it possible for her to travel well into the night. Still feeling the burst of energy from the morning's encounter Guinevere he did not make her camp until what must have been well past midnight.

              The following morning the extra strength that had come to her seemed to be gone again. But she had a plan now and Guinevere forced herself to continue forward. She stopped at a more reasonable hour and got her camp laid by sundown. Perhaps tomorrow she would rest.  In the morning, she woke to the sight of the bear with the torn ear sitting calmly beside her exhausted fire.

              How long she'd been running for, Guinevere had no idea. The bear didn't seem to be following her; in fact it hadn't seemed particularly dangerous, but she didn't want to take any chances. She'd always been told not to feed bears. Did this one expect just that? She'd fed it once already. Could she still be in its territory?  She'd just keep moving sooner or later she must leave it behind.

              On the fourth morning Guinevere awoke to something far less pleasant than a bear. She opened her dark eyes and meet a pair of cold green ones staring down at her from grinning face of a bearded man. Gwen reached instantly for her knife and her stomach twisted sickeningly as he waved Elyan's knife at her. He crouched at her side.

              "You're a nice friendly girl, ain't ya?" She felt the sting of the blade pressed against her throat. "Ain't ya?"

              "Yes," Gwen whispered it, as still as she'd ever been in life.

              "Good, now you just lie there."

              The man straddled her, dispelling any hopes that she'd had that he was simply a thief.

              "You're pretty, too."

              For some reason this statement made her angry.

              "You just finish your business and get out of here." If he was going to rape her, he was going to rape her. She was not going to let him pretend that this was some sweet little fantasy. The man growled and punched her.

 Perhaps it was supposed to quell her, frighten her, it didn't. Instead Guinevere felt rage well up from somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Rage for kissing Lancelot, rage for losing Arthur, rage for being turned away from Bayberry, rage for losing her home, rage for being attacked by bears and crows, for being abandoned by her brother. For every shit thing that was her life rage fired her fist into the bastard's face. He seemed to be stunned by her resistance.  Guinevere shoved him off of her and got to her feet. He did too. He lunged at her and she didn't care. He was stronger than he looked, but she fought him anyway, flailing with fist and feet, biting if he got a hold of her. Somehow though, he got her down again and put a rough hand around her throat. That was when the bear came lumbering out of the woods with a roar. The man stared in shock. Gwen didn't. She punched him in the throat, rolled to her knees and shoved him straight toward the bear. Guinevere grabbed the satchel Gwaine had given her and took off for the boarder at run, never happier to leave Camelot.

Later, when she caught her breath- when she took a moment to rest, she'd bring her slender fingers to rest just below the pulse at her throat, looking for the comfort that laying a hand against Arthur's ring brought. That would be later and she'd find no comfort in that gesture.

 The ring was gone.

               Elyan sniffed, the pungent honeyed smell of sweet basil and rosewood hung in the air. He crossed the armory to place his weapons and armor in their racks, the ever present smell of the sand and vinegar used to clean the armor grew stronger as he walked further into the room. Sunlight glinted on his breast plate and for a moment the young knight studied the reflection of his dark face, sometimes he saw her there-

                "Well done on the drills." Percival's compliment brought him into the moment.

                 "Thanks," he murmured, "We've been working hard. Perhaps we will see some action soon."

                "We will." Percival said it with such certainty that if it had been anyone else he would have suspected witchery or treachery, but with Percival it was just the big man's deliberate nature that gave certainty to his words-  that or his imposing height.

                "Elyan, Gwaine when you've done step into my office." Leon called them from the door of his study. It was phrased politely and pleasantly, but both men hurried to finish putting their armor away.

                "You two are in trouble." Percival grinned at them and there were sniggers from Sir Kay and Sir Gareth.

                "Elyan, you been out to the taverns with this one again?" Sir Bedivere's voice rumbled and the one-armed man studied them with a grin. He knew his fellow knights were teasing them, but he felt vaguely uncomfortable. Only he and Gwaine had been singled out, the two commoner-Knights.

                "A man's gotta have some fun right? Come on." Gwaine dropped a friendly arm around his shoulders and the two knights headed toward Sir Leon's office.

                "Any ideas?" Elyan asked Gwaine in loud whisper as they drew out of earshot of their fellows.

                "None," was the taller knight's only reply.

                The senior knight sat not at his desk, but on a short bench beneath the office's only window.  His armor had been replaced with a green quilted surcoat. The room was small and bright, the window taking full advantage of the westward sun. Leon burned more basil and rosemary and the scent of vinegar and sweat disappeared. His office boasted a desk -on its surface- several furled and unfurled scrolls, quill and ink, and set of shelves holding several heavy tomes. Leon served as knight Captain, senior most of them all, he was one of the few that could read and write a legible hand. After each practice he filled a page in their log and after every trip he spent hours in his office filling writing- well Elyan didn't know what. He also requisitioned all their food and supplies.

                "The two of you did well today as always."  Leon's posture was perfect, back straight, shoulders square, right ankle resting on left knee.

                "Thank you sir," they said it in unison.

                "Have a seat."

                The two men sat on the wooden stools that faced the bench.

"Every month the knight report is given at council. Usually the Knight Captain gives the report. This month," Leon paused and stroked his beard, "his majesty has requested that the two of you give the report."

                Elyan and Gwaine looked at each other and then back at Leon.

                "Us," again they spoke in concert even as they pointed at one and other.

                "That's right."

                "No offense Leon, but bureaucracy makes my balls itch. Why aren't you giving it?" Gwaine asked that question and Elyan waited for Leon's answer.

The senior knight frowned somewhat disapprovingly.

"The king has ordered it." He paused for a moment. "You're to give the report, answer any questions and remain for the rest of the session. You won't be there long. Lord Troy's petition is the only one that follows."

                "You and his majesty are both forgetting one very important fact. Neither of us can read." Elyan raised this snag.

Leon leaned back in his chair and smoothed the space between his brows with an index finger.

"I explained all this to his majesty; he said to have you commit it to memory. Council is in two days. We start now. I've ordered your lunch. You'll have it here." Leon sighed and studied them for a moment. "I'll be so glad when the new education law goes into effect," he muttered more to himself, than the others. "Let us begin."

                "Very well," Elyan said. Clearly the decision had been made already.  "Gwaine can take the first half; I'll take the second."  He grinned cheekily at his comrade and the other man glared at him.

                "Good." Leon opened one of the scrolls and began reading. "In the month of March, the Knights of Camelot were sent on four expeditions and completed daily training without fail. There were ten minor injuries, three serious injuries and no fatalities." Leon paused and read it again.

                Elyan forced himself to focus.  This was going to be a very long afternoon.

   ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________      

                Elyan yawned and a moment later Gwaine and Leon did the same.  The second six hour candle they'd lit that evening had burned into puddle of wax supporting a sorry little flame, a stack of plates sat on Leon's desk and his eyes were starting to sting just a bit.

                "I think this is probably as much as can be done tonight." Leon looked over a scroll "Elyan, you're right, don't try to commit weapons and armor sections to memory. You know it well enough to ad libitum. Gwaine, don't go out drinking for the next few nights."

                Gwaine's dark eyes met Leon's and the knight Captain held them with such firmness that the other man was forced to look away.

                "Very well I'll stay out of the taverns until after the report."

                "Report here immediately after practice tomorrow and we'll do it all again." Leon gave them a small encouraging smile.

                "I have a two o'clock fitting with Mr. Bloome," Elyan said.

                Leon looked thoughtful for a moment "Suit of clothes for Earl of Sussex's ball?"

                Elyan nodded.

                "Very well I'll see you here after the fitting and Gwaine can have my undivided attention for a couple of hours."

              "Great." Gwaine graced them with a grimace of a smile.

              The three men got to their feet and headed to their respective beds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

          Bloome's shop didn't have many windows, but he made up for it with candles.  Candlelight glowed gently on wooden floors and benches polished gleaming with fragrant pine oil.  Elyan was not the only customer awaiting Bloome. Two young noblemen sat on another bench waiting. The knight had been friendly to them at first, but when they barely acknowledged him, Elyan had sunk into his own thoughts.

          "Sir Elyan," The tailor's youngest apprentice called him, voice cracking with adolescence.

           He rose and started toward Mr. Bloome's fitting room.

           "Just a moment, Sir Elyan" Bloome's assistant, Awstin a tall fellow with dull brown hair, seemed to appear from nowhere. "Mr. Bloome is quite busy with a large order and, as he does not wish to cause you any undue trouble has, advised me to recommend several alternatives."

           Elyan frowned, like the rest of the knights Bloome was his tailor.

           "He's too busy?"

           "Sir, he wants to be certain that your order is completed in a timely fashion and with the delay caused by the fabric shipment for the order, he couldn't possibly have your suit done in that time."

            "But I have an appointment for a final fitting today. Is he selling me a half-finished suit?" Elyan had been fitted for the new tunic, trousers and caplet for the occasion.  Arthur wanted them at the Earle's ball. He needed this suit.

            "Sir, I do apologize. Mr. Bloome is willing to accept the cost of the materials and has made several recommendations for tailors with whom you might have the garments completed."

            "Very well who are these other tailors?"

            The apprentice smiled and Elyan listened as the young man suggested four other tailors none of whom came close to Bloome. He was missing something.

            "What are you playing at?"

            "Beg your pardon, sir." The apprentice finally met his eyes and Elyan thought he caught the briefest hint of a smirk.

            "Beg my pardon." He rolled his eyes "You're playing at something. You and your master had plenty of time when I placed my order two weeks ago."

           "Yes sir, but that was two weeks ago sir."

           He said the last part with such emphasis that the young knight knew exactly what Awstin meant.

          "I see. Tell your master that I won't be needing anything from him and that if he chooses to turn away my business then he turns away the business of all the knights of Camelot."

        Awstin's smirk vanished "Just a moment sir, l-I just let me speak with my master, sir."

        "Right," Elyan crossed his arms and waited.  Several long moments passed and Awstin reappeared.

         "Makes my master no difference and besides," the assistant sneered, "I doubt someone like you speaks for all of the knights anyway."

         He felt his blood growing hot and his eyes narrowed.  Elyan told himself not to ring the assistant's neck.

         "Very well just remember I work with the king daily."

          Awstin's smirk turned into an arrogant grin. "I'm sure that might have meant something before."

          He wanted to smack the young man's smug face for the disrespect he was being shown. If he could he would have challenged the apprentice. Instead Elyan locked his eyes on the apprentice's, let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword and took a step toward the younger man. Awstin's grin vanished and the younger man inhaled sharply. It was Elyan's turn to smirk when the assistant took a step backwards, grey eyes wide and fearful.

          "I suppose we'll just have to see how things come out then."

          "I suppose we will, sir." Awstin's smirk returned as Elyan turned and strode away.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

            "Do we truly need to cover every injury?" Gwaine's objection reached his ears and Elyan felt the briefest of smiles. Gwaine was not simply unhappy with this assignment he was angry; about it.

             "Yes."

              "You give these old bastards too much of your time, Leon. Arthur should just be a tyrant like Caerleon."

              "I thought you hated Caerleon." Leon's reply echoed clearly through the weapons room and afternoon shadows danced across the sandy colored walls.

              "I do, but I doubt his knights had to answer to a bunch of paper pushers."

              "Leon, Gwaine," Elyan greeted the other two men as he reached office door.

             "Oh he looks pissed." Gwaine rocked backwards in his chair. "Suit not come out well?"

              "It was a fast fitting," Leon commented, expression concerned.

              "Not getting the suit from Bloome." Elyan stood looking at them and his hand brushed the hilt of his sword. "Bloome turned away my business."

             "What?" Leon stared at him and Gwaine's eyes narrowed. "Bloome turned away your business? The Knights of Camelot have always used Bloome."

             "I don't. Not anymore," Elyan said, "Apparently I'm not good enough for Bloome to wait on me.

             "Well what the hell happened?" Gwaine demanded.

              Elyan told the story in quick and simple terms.

              "You were quite right, Elyan," Leon said and he felt relief flood through him. "Turn away one of us and you turn away all of us. Unfortunate though, Bloome's is one of the best. I'll put out the order at tomorrow's practice and I'll have to cancel those cloaks. "  Leon sighed. "Did you get some lunch?"

              Elyan nodded.

              "Let's get to work then. Elyan, I need you to put aside your anger." Leon was silent for a moment as if weighing his next words. "There is more to this than meets the eye. The king is playing his cards close to his vest these days."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

              "Gwaine, Elyan." Merlin gave them a broad small smile. "Arthur asked me to meet you, have seat here." The manservant motioned to wooden bench beside the council chamber's doors. "You'll have a brief wait. Lord Gildas is going a little long on the tax report, the noble's are whining about the Famine tax break."

             "Another one of Gwen's ideas," Elyan sighed.

             The Famine Tax break would save the lives of hundreds of children and oldsters from farm families. The stores of Camelot were always open to its people in times of famine. However by the time the food stores were requisitioned and transported, hundreds would have died from starvation and famine related diseases. The Famine Tax break would allow for an immediate reduction in peasant taxes whenever harvests were under expected levels due to war, disease or natural disaster. The nobles were whining about the reduced tax as well the need for them to pay for educating peasant children out of their own purses, another of Gwen's ideas.

             Gwen had come to see him one afternoon glowing with pleasure to tell him about the new plan. She'd explained to Arthur that it was no good announcing new laws that benefited the common folk if they had to hear the announcements, understand them at the time and remember them besides. If they or their children could read, Arthur could have the new laws announced and posted for everyone. It would allow him to speak directly to his people and they would know exactly what their king was doing for them. Arthur had loved the idea; so had Elyan.

           He'd been so proud of her in that moment and he had told her "your queen-ship will glitter like the crown jewels". She'd only grown happier with the compliment and it had been the beginning of their mending fences. Now they were left with this mess of class warfare thanks to her. How could you be so stupid, Gwen?

          By the length of the shadows and brightness of the sun Elyan judged that that bit of a wait had been closer to an hour. What had passed in the council room while they sat in the hall cooling their heels neither man could guess, the heavy oak doors and stone walls let very little sound escape.

          The council room doors opened and Merlin beckoned them inside, his long face quite pale. Elyan felt a cold sweat break out on his palms as they crossed into the great vaulting chamber. If he had his choice he'd face Morgana's army of undead rather than present this report.

          "Before we come to Lord Troy and the Eastern noblemen's petition we have Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine to give the knight's report this week."

           Elyan, son of Thomas the blacksmith, tended to notice everything when he was nervous- the length of shadows, the sound of a pin dropping, throats being cleared, dust motes in a sunbeam and the briefest smirk on the king's face as he lowered his head and coughed, eyes dancing ever so briefly over the aforementioned Lord Troy.

           So it was that he saw Lord Troy staring at them mouth hanging open before giving a pointed look at the Lord Payton. Something about the presence of the two knights upset both men. Elyan glanced at Gwaine wondering if the other man had noticed the two lords. His friend and fellow seemed to have fixed his gaze on the stained glass windows behind the king. Elyan told himself not to worry about the two noblemen; he had a report to give.

           Gwaine cleared his throat and started just as they'd agreed. The other man began to relax as he spoke, one hand resting comfortably in his hip where his sword hilt would be if he wore it.  Elyan tried to relax and listen to Gwaine, but his eyes kept drifting back to the king, Lord Troy and Lord Payton. He didn't look at them directly, but subtly from under lowered lids.  He caught Arthur looking at Lord Troy with the occasional smirk, while Lord Payton's narrow eyed gaze would land on Lord Troy when the king was looking elsewhere.  Lord Troy looked more and more tense with each moment and Elyan felt himself growing sorry for the man.

          Gwaine finished his report and Elyan began, his own nerves forgotten as he wondered at the unspoken exchange. He didn't forget any of his talking points and when they'd done, there were a few questions asked. The councilors seemed particularly interested in weapons and armor and Elyan was happy to answer for them. Neither Lords Troy nor Payton asked any questions though and he wondered at that. 

           "Gwaine, Elyan," the king interrupted the question, "please have a seat there. The knights can continue answering questions after Lord Troy has presented the Eastern noblemen's petition." He motioned toward a bench not far from the table.

           "Sire I do not-" Lord Troy seemed to jump in his seat and he shot a quick glance at Lord Payton.

            "Lord Troy?" The king looked at him questioningly.

             "I apologize sire. I am ready. This petition has been signed by the eastern Lords Mallory, Thomas, and  Winston- " There were more, but Elyan found his attention wandering. He did not know any of these eastern nobles. "It has quite recently become evident that those of common blood lack the nobility and understanding to hold true to oaths that they may take. It is the proposal of the aforementioned Lords that the knights Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan be removed and replaced with two youths of noble blood under the traditional policies of the late King Uther." Lord Troy finished and resumed his seat at no time looking at either of the two knights.

                Gwaine opened his mouth as if to speak and Elyan rested a restraining hand on his friend's arm. He looked to the king and Sir Gwaine followed his eyes. Arthur seemed quite calm. He sat back in his chair not up, legs casually apart, fingers interlaced and hands resting loosely on his right thigh.

               "So it is your proposal that I replace two of my knights, two heroes of Camelot -tested and proven in battle- with your untried youths?" Arthur leaned forward now.

               "Sire, the youth are not untried. They are border bred, have seen raiding and bandits-"

                The king sniffed, "Bandits." He spat the word with a level of disgust that only Arthur could manage.

                "Sire, tradition-"

                 "Tradition!" Arthur smacked the table. "Tradition has seen many good men put out of the service of Camelot and treated unjustly.  Are you a fool Lord Troy? Would you see Camelot lose seasoned fighters in times of war? Let me remind you of this simple fact Lord Troy it is the prerogative of the king who serves as a knight and who does not," Arthur fixed the nobleman with an expression that was a mixture of incredulousness and disgust, the kind that always provoked Merlin into saying something he shouldn't.

                 Lord Troy muttered something under his breath and Elyan thought he heard the man say "-more than you."

                "What is it Lord Troy? Speak up."

                The man muttered again.

                "Come, come," Arthur rapped on the table with each word, "good sir, we are waiting. Please say what you mean and mean what you say."

                 It had never occurred to Elyan that the king might be irritating on purpose.

                "I said they cannot be trusted," The nobleman's face was red with frustration and anger and his words escaped in a heated rush, "just as Lancelot and the blacksmith's daughter could not be trusted! They are common for a reason and everything that we have seen indicates that no matter what good a commoner may accomplish sooner or later they must give into weakness and vile behavior."

               A hush fell over the council room, the only thing to be heard was Lord Troy's labored breathing.  Elyan's eyes along with everyone else's went to the king. The man was surprisingly calm; he must have been expecting this.

              "Ah," Arthur's voice was soft, "so while these good men may be guilty of nothing, you would have me replace them on the actions of others." Arthur appeared to think for a moment. "Perhaps I should decide all appointments based not on the actions of individuals, but based on the worst behaved members of their class?"

              Lord Troy shook his head negatively.

              "Of course not, sire."

              The king went on as if the noblemen hadn't spoken.

              "I wonder what noblemen I should select to serve council." Arthur looked away as if thinking. "Was it your nephew that had an affair with a peasant girl and when the girl became pregnant -which is no shame in and of itself- he denied her and feeling desperate the girl hung herself? Perhaps you should be replaced with a Lord from a cleaner family?"

              Lord Troy stared at the king expression horrified.

              "My sister, the witch Morgana, is of royal blood. She is guilty of practicing magic and enchantments perhaps. I am not fit to be king because of her."

              "No! I mean yes of course you are fit sire- I-"

               Arthur rose and leaned forward hands resting on the table and the anger stole over him, cool and steely. Elyan thought perhaps the room had grew colder. When he spoke his voice was low and serious and they all shrank back.

               "Do not seek to manipulate me in this manner. Speaking of Lancelot or the blacksmith's daughter is treasonous and if you do it again I shall have you flogged and your tongue cut-out and you won't have to worry about the rank of Sir Elyan or Sir Gwaine because I shall take the lands and titles that you hold and give them to these two men. Is that understood?"

              "Yes, sire."

               All was silent as the king's eyes turned on Lord Payton for the briefest a moment. The man had the sense to incline his head, but Elyan could see quite clearly that Lord Payton was the true enemy here.

               "Then we are done for the day."

               Arthur strode from the council room and it burst into tense, irritated chatter; more than one man uttered the name of Uther.

__________________________________________________________________________

                  Enid surveyed her little home satisfied that it was orderly and clean. In an hour perhaps less Dafyd would be home. Their little ones were at her sister's. She smiled at the thought of being alone with her husband all night. She thought suddenly briefly of Guinevere as she sometimes did.  Was her friend well, safe? Perhaps tomorrow would be the day that Elyan or Gwaine would report the receipt of a letter.

                 "Enid?" She looked up and saw Anne at her window a common thing. What was uncommon was Anne's miserable, dirty, tear-streaked face.

                 "Anne please come in. What has happened?"

                 "I've done something terrible!"

                Half-an-hour later the two women sat in silence. In her mind Enid was making a little list.

                 -Gwen

                  -Janet

                 -Mared

                -Lizette

               -Beth

              -and now Anne

Six affairs in three weeks, something was terribly amiss in Camelot.

The Exile

-Part II, Chapter 6-

A New Life

Guinevere hugged herself against the cold. Around her rose buildings three and four stories high. Her ears caught snatches of languages some familiar and some foreign, some she spoke, but many she had not ever heard. In the air hung all the scents of man and something else, something else, salty and unfamiliar. The people that passed her -so many people so many styles of dress, so many shapes and shades of human being…Camelot had its share of immigrated people, but they were of Camelot. This felt like a city filled with all the cities of the world. Was this an imperial city? Rome had not had a hold on the Isle of Britian for over a hundred years, right?

Rain began to fall, slow, cold and fat; drops striking her first on the head, the shoulder, her cheek and then faster. The people around her looked toward the sky and some of them began to disappear into buildings and shops. Guinevere fought tears of frustration and tried to think. She had money, she could pay for a hostel, but she without supplies, a job, references…her money would go fast. She had to be smart. The rain came down faster, penetrating her tattered purple travel cape and raising gooseflesh on her skin. Guinevere searched the streets and amidst the shops and taverns she spied a cross.

Without a moment's hesitation Guinevere made for the church. She was no Christian, but she prayed, all black smiths did and so did their children. There had been a time been a time when black smiths prayed to the fire gods, then gods of the forge, like Vulcan. Even now one might hear the name of Vulcan uttered by a black smith in vain frustration though his worship was no more. Now she simply kept her mother's habit of praying to her ancestors.

The all-powerful-three-spirit god made no sense to her. If he wasn't an ancestor why did he care? If he was all powerful why didn't he fix things? Still Christians always welcomed visitors to their churches.

There was no service in the church when she entered and this worried her. She would have liked to have simply blended in with the parishioners. Still Gwen hoped that she could simply pretend to pray until it stopped raining and she grew warm. Guinevere sat down in one of the pews and closed her eyes hands folded in her lap.

Later or sooner she would have to pay for an inn though the longer she could delay that the better. Without her references how was she to pay for employment? Uncertain what to do her confused thoughts turned into true prayers to her mother and father for guidance and apologies for having not poured a libation for them in so long. Someone settled next to her on the pew. Gwen finished her prayer and cracked open one eye. She resisted frowning; the priest had sat beside her. This was it, he was going to call her out as a fraud.

"You must be very devout." He spoke in Latin. "Praying all this time I mean."

"Oh yes."

"We serve lunch in the hostel you should join us."

"Lunch?" Her stomach embarrassed her.

"Everyone is welcome." He gave her a small smile, pale eyes friendly. "We even have a women's bath."

"A bath?"

Guinevere imagined that she was probably quite offensive by this point. She had not had a proper bath in weeks. After exiting the woods she'd lived on the road side, sleeping in ditches and eating what she could find for-She didn't know how many days.

"I think there is still some hot water."

He rose and Gwen did the same not sure which she wanted more the bath or the lunch.

"Sister Abbey might even be able to scare up a clean smock."

Guinevere felt herself smiling, food, bath and clean clothes-

"For how much?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Gwen could not keep the disbelief from her voice.

"The heavenly father asks us to clothe the widow and feed the orphan it is simply our work."

"But I am neither."

"Perhaps, but you are alone and you need help. Wyeledon can be a dangerous place for the friendless."

She weighed his words.

"Won't you join us for lunch?"

She nodded.

"I'm Father Flaejer by the way."

"I'm Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen."

"Very well," the priest extended his hand "pleased to meet you Ms. Jjju-"He frowned the g' came out soft and light, not a g' at all. He tried again "Jenafere?"

She started to correct him, but paused Jenafere? It sounded soft and pleasant in her mind.

"Yes Jenafere." She smiled and clasped his hand. The priest palm was warm and dry, his handshake reassuring. She did not miss the formal way that he greeted her.

"Please to meet you too Mr. Flager. Um Mr. Flaejer you said that this was Wyeledon?"

"Yes."

Gwen sighed, a part of her wanted to laugh. She had chosen against Wyeledon, mistrusting Gwaine's recommendation. He was a good knight, but he never had specified what his sister did and for some reason Gwen had been suspicious of it. Now though she might just seek this Adras out after all, it seemed the only road left open to her.

Father Flaejer entrusted her to the care of the aforementioned Sister Abby. The nun was a middle-aged woman and Gwen could see strands of grey in her dark hairline. Abbey took her first to the women's bath. It was a simple stone room with a great tub and there was indeed hot water. Guinevere stripped and soaked, a heaviness settled into her limbs by the time the water grew cool she was dozing. Abbey had managed to find a clean smock and oil for her skin. Guinevere finished up her bath and dressed. Clean and relaxed she followed Sister Abbey to the kitchen and ate the food put in front of her without tasting it. Then someone was guiding her to another room. Where she laid down to sleep, too tired even to appreciate the narrow bed she laid in.

Guinevere stared up at the stone ceiling above her trying to remember where she was. She remembered the rain and the church easily, but everything after…She'd had a bath and food? Her stomach rumbled and she sat up.

"Ahh you're awake."

It took her a moment to recognize Sister Abbey. Guinevere surveyed the room. It was a plain and spare space with only several narrow beds and closet.

"Where am I?"

"Well you took Sister Maria's bed. But she didn't mind so much. Normally lodgers take pallets on the kitchen floor, but you fell asleep in your lunch and we still needed the kitchen."

"I'm sorry about sister Maria."

"She doesn't mind. You seemed so worn no one had the heart to move you."

"Oh."

"Get washed up, break your fast and then we'll see what we're going to do with you, hmm?"

Guinevere moved the straw broom over the flagstone floor with vigor while Sister Abbey scrubbed the kitchen fire place. Doing chores made her feel a bit better about the charity she was being given.

"Abbey, I do have some money and I'm certain I can find a job. Do you know of some household that takes lodgers?"

"Ms. Alfonsa, she is a friend of Father Flaejer, lets rooms to smart and hardworking young women new to the city."

Gwen smiled at the compliment.

"When we're done here let's go see him, he would know."

The streets of Wyeledon twisted and wound. It was all Gwen could do to not stop and stare upwards like some country-cousin visiting Camelot for the first time. Camelot had the occasional three and four story building and the palace had two towers that stood five stories they never failed to amaze they never failed to amaze visitors from the outer villages. You could always identify them in a crowd they would halt mid-stride and stare upwards mouths agape. Every building in Wyeledon was at least three stories, many of them four; most of them white stucco with painted lumber usually dark brown, but sometimes blue, pink or green. Gwen studied them and thought of the frosted layer cakes served for Yuletide in the palace.

"This is the place," ten year-old Tony halted, a smile on his nut brown face.

"Thank you Tony."

He stood on tip-toe and lifted the knocker. Moments later a young woman with curious green eyes and russet hair plaited into two long braids appeared at the little window in the door.

"Good afternoon Tony." The young woman flashed a quick smile.

"Ms. Kerenza. Father Flaejer has a new tenant for Ms. Alfonsa. Does she still have an empty bed?"

"I believe so." Kerenza glanced briefly at Gwen and her face disappeared from the little window. A moment later the door swung open. "Come in."

The pair walked into the cool shade of Ms. Alfonsa's house.

"I have to get back to work Tony; Ms. Alfonsa is in her study." Kerenza disappeared up a flight of narrow wooden stairs.

"I know the house." The boy said proudly puffing out his ten year-old chest as he started down the hall. Gwen followed her young guide out of the foyer.

The town home did not have wooden slat flooring, field stone or rushes. The floor was covered in pretty green and white tile with little yellow and blue flowers. Gwen wondered at the expense as she hurried after Tony. She followed him down a narrow hall to an arched wooden door.

Ms. Alfonsa a severe looking, older woman sat a wooden table reviewing a sheaf of papers. The matron had dark, grey threaded hair pulled into a knot on her head, a set of thick gleaming black brows over equally dark eyes, and her skin had that cool olive tone that seemed rather common here.

"Good afternoon Tony." The older woman smiled softly contradicting Gwen's initial thoughts of severity.

"Hi Ms. Alfonsa."

"How's my favorite young courier?"

"I am doing well Ms. Alfonsa." The boy smiled. "How are you?"

"I am well thank you Tony. What can I do for you today?"

"Father Flaejer sent me over. This is Ms. Gwen. He thinks she might take your empty bed."

Ms. Alfonsa glanced at her as she took the introductory letter the priest had written. Gwen's eyes swept little room while Ms. Alfonsa read the note. It was pleasant enough space with a large window and shelf covered in books and scrolls. The white plaster walls were clean and the tile floor was hidden with a blue and beige oriental rug.

"Thank you Tony." The older woman him a coin "Luisa has made some gooseberry jelly why don't you see her before leaving. Also Tony can you please remind the good Father that I shall expect him on Wednesday."

"Yes ma'am, thank you." The boy's eyes had lit up on the words gooseberry jelly and he hurried out of the room grinning.

"A very good boy that one," Ms. Alfonsa watched the child disappear out the door. "Jenafere is it?"

"Oh yes ma'am."

"Please sit down."

Guinevere sat on a little stool; the Oriental rug was plush beneath her feet.

"Father Flaejer thinks you would be a good addition to our household Jenafere."

"Your home looks pleasant enough."

"Thank you. Let me tell you a little bit about how we live here. I have a room shared by four young women a bed a piece. All have their own income and pay a rent of four coppers monthly. Besides a bed you have access to every room of the house save this one and my bedroom. Three meals daily are included with your board as well as firewood for the bedroom fire place. We have a housekeeper that serves as the cook and launders the bedding. You're expected to do your own housekeeping and laundry. If you decide to take the bed I'll need your first month due immediately. Now if that sounds acceptable let me show you the rest of the house."

Guinevere nodded, it seemed reasonable, she hoped it was. It certainly wouldn't make as much of a dent in her savings as she'd worried.

The first floor had a modern stone kitchen with a fire place, oven and indoor scullery. There was a dining room where breakfast, lunch and dinner were taken, and a room for bathing near the scullery that drained outside. There was also a pleasant little parlor and even a small library. The bedrooms and another parlor were on the second floor. They found Kerenza in the parlor reading and Ms. Alfonsa asked the young woman to gather her housemates and meet in the bedroom. The third floor served as something of a work and storage space Ms. Alfonsa had clothing furniture and tools going back several generations.

"Is it to your liking?"

Ms. Alfonsa seemed a no-nonsense type of woman and though she'd only met Kerenza briefly Gwen thought she might get along here. If not- well she could always go back to the church until she found another place.

"I think so."

"Good. Father Flaejer mentioned that you had lost most of your things in your travels."

Guinevere nodded.

"Come with me for a moment. I have a number of dresses from my youth that I shall never wear again and as I have no daughters they are just taking up space. They are old fashioned, but if you are clever with a needle you can update them."

Ms. Alfonsa let her select three dresses, a kirtle, chemise and cape. All of the items were plain and dated but well made of good fabric.

"I do have an appointment. Let's see our remaining housemates. "

The other women had gathered in the bedroom as Ms. Alfonsa had asked. Kerenza sat a chair under the window on the far wall reading. Two other women, one very pale the other very dark, sat chatting on one of beds.

Ms. Alfonsa cleared her throat and the three women looked up, all of their faces curious.

"You've met Kerenza. This is Ylsa," Ms. Alfonsa indicated the dark-skinned woman, "and Synove." The latter was the very pale woman, "this is our new housemate Jenafere."

"Hello, you can call me Jen. " Gwen gave them a small nod and allowed the corners of her mouth to turn upwards ever so slightly.

"Hi." The three young women spoke in unison.

"I've shown Jen the rest of the house. If one of you could help her get settled?"

"I'm on my way back to Mrs. Bright's." Ylsa got to her feet as she spoke, her dark velvety brown skin gleaming in the sunlight coily curls floating about her head. "She has been in labor for some time now."

"Of course," Ms. Alfonsa said.

"Nice to me you Ms. Jen," Ylsa shook her hand and Gwen met the tiny woman's big dark eyes briefly before she strode out of the room

"Kerenza, Synove surely the two of you can help Jen get settled."

"Oh yes Ms. Alfonsa," Synove smiled a warm little grin that lit her grey-green eyes and Guinevere thought that she had the most pleasant lilting voice.

"Thank you Synove." Ms. Alfonsa left her in the hands of the two strangers.

"Are those your things?" Kerenza asked.

"Yes. I don't have much; I've lost most of it."

"Oh," Kerenza's green eyes were thoughtful for a moment.

"This is the empty bed." Synove indicated the bed furtherest from the door. "Kerenza you'll have to empty her cabinet.

The room was rectangular in shape and four narrow beds lined one wall, beside each bed a tall narrow cabinet stood.

"Oh yes. Let me get my things."

"Come hang up your things while Kerenza clears your cabinet," Synove said and Gwen followed the friendly girl to the closet on the far wall beside the window.

"Is that all you have?"

"I'm afraid so." She thought briefly of her tattered travel cape, ruined clothing and lost dresses. Only her pretty blue tunic had been salvageable. "Ms. Alfonsa gave these to me."

"Oh," was all Synove said, but Gwen understood her reaction.

"They're rather dated for a young woman. I hope to get some needle and thread at the market and update them."

"That's a relief," Synove said and her eyes went round in horror. "I'm sorry-"

"No its okay presently they look as if they've come from the 700's."

"Indeed, I can take you to the market if you like."

"I would actually."

Guinevere finished hanging up her clothing and moved to stand before the fireplace. No fire burned now as it was nearly summer, but there was a pretty mural of angels painted on the plaster around it.

Kerenza finished clearing the cabinet and put her papers and scrolls into a basket that she placed on the room's highest shelf.

"It's all yours Ms. Jen."

"Are you going to come with us to the market Kerenza?" Synove asked.

"No, I've got to get back to my studies, but enjoy." The tall girl left as well.

Guinevere put her satchel in the cabinet beside her bed. She'd split her money into several purses. The little gold she had went to the bottom. She selected a purse with a mix of silver and copper coins and tucked it into her pocket. She pulled a lock from the satchel, looped it through the clasps and locked it fast. Gwen hated to imply mistrust, but with the exception of the clothing Ms. Alfonsa had given her everything she owned was in that bag.

Synove chattered as they walked the streets of Wyeledon. Though cute and talented Synove was one daughter too many in a minor noble family that couldn't even dower her for a convent. Like so many extraneous noble sons and daughters, she'd made her way to the prosperous city of Wyeledon trading on her refined upbringing to bring her a comfortable life. With a voice like an angel and a knack for instruments Synove found work teaching six days a week with three different families.

Guinevere would never share it with her new acquaintance, but Wyeledon intimidated her. The middle, lower town and palace taken together were considered a great city in Camelot. Wyeledon with its row upon row of four story townhomes and shops and people so varied dwarfed it.

"Just wait until you see the market Ms. Jen. I'll wager they don't have anything like it in your village?" Synove's expression turned thoughtful "You never did say where you are from?"

Gwen thought for a moment "Ealdor. It's quite boring little farming village nothing more."

Synove's expression turned thoughtful for a moment , but she said nothing.

The market did not disappoint. Stalls and booths stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see. Everything seemed to be sold in Wyeledon's market- plants, animals, food, entertainment, jewelry etc…much of it imported. The smell was a dizzying mix of perfumes, incense, food, unwashed man, animals and offal. All of it mingled with an unfamiliar salty smell.

"Thread and fabrics will be this way." Synove led her past yet more.

"Everything is really inexpensive here in comparison with the rest of Britain and you can bargain the merchants down." Synove grinned at this.

They eventually found the fabric market. There were tents and booths that hawking all manner of cloth, thread, yarn, wool to spin, buttons, hooks…they seemed stretch forever in every direction. Synove lead her to an area that was strictly for hanks of yarn, thread, buttons and various notions.

"We shall see Mrs. Thelma. She will give us a good deal."

The two women passed a number of stalls that had intriguing wares, Synove vetoing them all in favor of one woman's shop. Mrs. Thelma did indeed have the most beautiful and sturdy threads Guinevere saw that day. Synove did the bargaining and Gwen felt as if they'd stolen from the merchant when they were done.

"Synove I'd have paid three times that amount in Ealdor and thought myself clever, I am truly amazed."

"Well it's no special skill I have. I've seen Kerenza do better still. But they are more expensive because the merchants here will sell them twice if not thrice more between here and Ealdor. I was appalled when I came here and I am always being asked to send goods home."

"Mmmm."

"Also early summer is the height of the market season. Near the end of summer nearly everything will be gone and what remains will cost less still. Come winter the market won't be here and then in the spring when people are hungry for new goods and to replace tools and such, costs will be very high."

Gwen supposed that made sense.

They continued to peruse the fabric market. Guinevere purchased ribbon, embroidery thread, buttons and hooks and kept her eyes on the clothing she was seeing. She was starting to get ideas.

Her plan had been to do without a second kirtle. Having seen the cost of things Gwen purchased fabric for a new kirtle and decided to order stays as well. The latter however would be taken care of on another day.

With her purchases completed they headed back to Ms. Alfonsa's. Synove took a more direct route home leaving Gwen more confused than ever.

"What shall we do now?"

"I should probably start on the dresses." Right now what she wore was little more than a shapeless sack with a rope tied about her waist. She had dressed like this when she was younger, but having had nicer things, the sack dress pricked her vanity. The two women gathered the dresses and headed down to the first floor parlor.

Synove measured her with a piece of twine knotting in thumb length intervals. She thought of Morgana doing this for her so many years ago.

-Not so very long after her father's death Morgana had taken her shopping buying fabric, notions and all the while Morgana had probed Gwen for her opinion on every purchase. The items were to be a gift for a friend with very different tastes from her mistress.

The surprise had come one morning a couple weeks later. She had reported to work to find her mistress up and dressed standing beside a stack of several bolts of fabric in lavender, teal, a coppery shade, a pretty brocade and creamy white. With the fabric was the sewing basket full of threads and notions.

"Well Gwen what do you think about this? It is a gift for friend."

She had examined the fabric feeling slightly envious of this friend. The soft materials that would caress the skin, flattering colors that would make any girl feel pretty.

"They are beautiful I'm certain your friend will put them to good use."

"Yes you will Gwen."

"Excuse me My lady."

"I said you will make some beautiful dresses for yourself, perhaps turn a head or two." Morgana had began smiling, a true smile.

"But my lady it is too much." The modest refusal had come rather naturally. She could not picture herself in pretty dresses, not in that moment. "I can't-"

"Yes you can Gwen," the taller woman had squeezed her arm gently then "after everything that has happened it is the least I can do and far less than your desert."

She'd seen the glimmer of tears in Morgana's eyes and understood why these were being given, an apology. The two women had embraced and Gwen's official duties were canceled until the new wardrobe completed. The gift turned out to be more than the materials. Excused from her regular duties Gwen need only walk away from the sewing if her grief got to be too much and Morgana would listen to her if she talked about her father.

The fitted low-cut bodices had been Morgana's idea. They were the trend and if she were going to have new dresses than they may as well follow it. Gwen had had some misgivings, but Morgana had insisted. She couldn't catch a husband dressed as a dowdy matron. She'd debuted the new wardrobe with shyness, wary of the male attention she might draw. Something surprising had happened. The men surely looked more though they seemed to try and hide it and spoke less about "what she might be hiding under that dress". They were subdued somehow, better behaved and far more helpful. One thing she had never expected was to turn the head of the future king.-

"Jen?" Synove's expression was questioning.

"Sorry. I am gathering wool like a gaffer."

Synove merely shrugged.

"Raise your arms for me."

"Sorry." Guinevere did as the other woman asked.

When Synove was done they had five lengths of knotted twine, arms, neck, bust, waist, hips and waist to floor. With her measurements completed the two women got to work.

While they worked Synove chattered happily. The brunette told Guinevere about Wyeledon's Roman style senate, about the increasing number of Christians and the gaming houses of which Ms. Alfonsa heartily disproved.

Guinevere pinned the knotted twine that marked the width of her waist to the inside of the green linen dress Ms. Alfonsa had given her. Shortening the dress would be easy refitting it around her waist and hips would prove more of a challenge.

"How do you like living here?" She asked.

"It's rather nice we all get along well. The last young lady left a month ago after finally getting married at twenty-six." Synove marked out a new hem in chalk on the wrong side of a powder blue dress. "Ms. Alfonsa is a bit strange. She is the most educated woman I have ever met. She can read and write in three different languages, she owns this house, does her own books and insist only on tenants interested in something other than husbands."

"Husbands are the last thing on my mind." Gwen said knowing it was both a lie and the truth.

Synove studied her a moment the start of a sly smile on her face.

"Jen-"

Ylsa chose that moment to come in and throw herself down on the parlor sofa.

"That baby was huge," Ylsa's eyes widened as she spoke, "and poor Mrs. Bright is s-o-o-o tiny." The midwife demonstrated the difference with her hands and snorted a most unladylike sound "I hope she doesn't have any more of those monsters. There is only so much I can do. Her innards are gonna fall right out of her plop, plop, plop. "The dark-skinned woman flicked her forefinger against her thumb with each plop and yawned, "New wardrobe?"

"Yep," Gwen replied.

"I'd offer to help you, but I am worn out and half-starved. I'm for food and sleep." Ylsa left and returned moments later with a plate piled high with fruit, cheese, brown bread and drumsticks.

"Luisa bless her, always knows to make me a full plate."

"She's going to eat it all." Synove said knowingly.

Gwen looked at the tiny woman doubtfully. Ylsa was no taller than herself and skinny besides, but her plate looked more appropriate for someone Arthur's size. The midwife woman ignored them and began eating the brown bread and cheese with obvious relish.

"Synove, do you know anyone named Adras?"

"Adras," Synove frowned "is someone you'll meet sooner or later and may it be later."

"What? Why?" Gwen asked wondering if this Adras were Gwaine's sister.

"Adras is strange."

With her new waist marked Guinevere began pulling out the old the lengthwise seams of the dress.

"Never a more unladylike being have I seen."

This provoked snort from Ylsa.

"Synove you're being a prude."

"I am not. Adras is downright disgraceful going about in trousers, sword fighting, going to gaming houses-"

"Prude." Ylsa interrupted.

"I know something about sword fighting and I wear trousers when I travel," Gwen volunteered wanting to defend the absent Adras for some reason.

Ylsa started grinning and Synove's mouth formed a little o'.

"But why?" The dark haired woman asked.

"It was fight or be killed."

Synove's curious expression transformed into one of horror while Ylsa's amusement began to look something like awe.

"Well." Was all Synove said and Ylsa grinned.

"When I am not so very tired I want to hear all about this."

Ylsa finished her food and left and the two women went back to their work.

Over the next week Guinevere spent most of her time in the parlor or their sleeping room sewing. Sometimes she had help from Synove, Kerenza, Ylsa or even Ms. Alfonsa . The women chatted and Guinevere listened learning more about Wyeledon and the merchants that ran the city. Very slowly a wardrobe began to emerge.

There were three simple dresses one in a pale seafoamy green, another in powder blue and a third in pink. She convinced Ms. Alfonsa to donate a few more of her unworn dresses. Guinevere used the extra material to make underskirts for her dresses giving them a more modern look. Stays were ordered with a trip to a Madame Santiago, a dressmaker. Guinevere also began making bodices and short sleeveless surcoats to go over her dresses. It was perhaps a bit fancy, but she had some ideas about where she might find employment and she'd need nice things. By the time her stays were ready; Guinevere had refitted the green dress and made the embroidered material she had purchased into a beautiful surcoat to wear with it. Her housemates were impressed and Ylsa insisted on an outing.

"Guinevere. Ms. Guinevere!"

Gwen stopped and looked in the direction from whence her name had been called. None of the merchants nor their customers seemed to be looking for anyone.

"Guinevere!" She spotted it then; a simple blue tent set a little ways back from the road. Curious Gwen walked to the tent and poked her head inside.

A woman she did not recognize past her prime, but still lovely sat at table with pendants, bracelets, brooches, hair clips and other accessories. The fragrance of deliciously sweet incense hung in the air and Guinevere took a deep breath.

"You called to me?"

"Did I?" The woman's wide pale grey eyes met hers and Gwen hesitated. "Come in."

"I thought you did."

"Perhaps my wares called you they do that sometimes." She cocked her head to one side and smiled russet brown hair gleaming in the late afternoon light. "Were you looking for something? A pendant perhaps or mayhap a hair clip? You have beautiful hair Miss."

"Oh thank you."

"This would be perfect."

Gwen felt her heart her constrict as the woman held out a lovely clip reminiscent of the half-sun clip that Arthur had given her, now lost.

"It called you don't you think?"

"No I don't."

"But it's very pretty; just have a look." The woman extended the barrette her grey eyes as mysterious as an overcast spring afternoon. Gwen stretched out her hand toward the barrette in spite of herself. Her fingertips brushed the metal and found it warm to the touch. The merchant woman's eyes unfocused and Guinevere felt the other woman's hands round her wrist in an iron grip.

"Your enemy's victory shall be her bane, the peasant- Queen's part remains. What the wise man cannot yet see is that Albion's destiny requires not two but three. Less all be over born by fear, history turns on the choice of Guinevere."

"What?" Guinevere wrenched her hands away from this witchy woman and the stranger fell back into her chair breathing hard. She had not thought of Lancelot or what might have been the greatest mistake of her life for the better part of two days.

"I am sorry." The merchant took a breath eyes hidden behind her hand.

"Sorry!" Anger flushed through her on those words. "I have no destiny with Albion! I've made my choice and Arthur has made his-"

"On that you are wrong Guinevere!" The merchant declared "You've made no-"

"Jen?" Ylsa poked her head into the tent "We looked up and you were gone? Synove was worried that you'd gotten lost."

Guinevere shot a glare at the fortune teller and Ylsa's eyes followed hers.

"Matilde," Ylsa nodded.

"Ylsa," Matilde dipped her head politely.

"Jen," Ylsa laid a gentle had on her shoulder and the confusion that had descended upon her since entering the tent seemed to lift, "did I interrupt something?"

"No there is nothing happening here just a fraud plying false-fortunes."

"Not false Miss. Undesired perhaps but never false, remember that. Please take this. It is yours, no charge."

Guinevere stared down at the clip. It was undeniably beautiful. Smooth metal lines flowed into one and other to make up the rays of a setting sun. The bronze itself gleamed dully in the light pouring through the roof of the tent-

-"No, thank you." She stalked out of the tent and a cold wind seemed to blow-up from nowhere. The dark clouds on the horizon blew across the sun and rain started to fall in hot fast drops. Without waiting for Ylsa or the others Guinevere turned and ran home.

The Exile

              Part II, Chapter VII

The Air in Camelot

Rain fell in cold fat drops on the morning they rode into Bayberry. Never-the-less someone had been watching for them. Only minutes after their arrival, a couple came out of one the houses on the edge of village. The man was tall and balding with a horseshoe of black and gray hair and a slight paunch. The woman was equally tall but lean with gleaming dark hair and a chiseled look about her that served as opposite to her husband's softish appearance. Sir Bedivere rode to the head of the group and dismounted. Elyan and the rest of the knights did the same.

 "I'm headman Carle and this is my wife Tilda. Welcome good sirs."

"I am Sir Bedivere; this is Sir Gareth, Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan."

Each shook hands with the Headman in turn and Elyan wondered if he only imagined Carle and Tilda's eyes lingering on him.

"Tell me Headman Carle," Bedivere spoke his deep voice rumbling, "Have there been anymore incidents?"

"Yes sir."

"Deaths or injuries?"

"Not people, but some chickens and eggs were taken as well as fish. And this bear is clever we've set traps as well as blocks, it's avoided all the traps and blocks to get at whatever it wants. And if you're out in the woods alone or in a small party it'll harass you. Creature showed up 'bout two weeks after the adulteress passed through here."

Elyan felt his jaw clench. For some reason he'd imagined he was getting away from politics.

"Here we are Sirs."  Carle opened the door to his cottage. "Tilda see to their horses."

"Actually I'll take care of my own and Bedivere's." Gwaine volunteered.

"And I'll take care of the rest." He did not want to sit down at the headman's table before he had too, besides horses were always a man's job. The headman's wife lingered a moment in the doorway before following her husband and the other knights inside.

They stripped the horses of their tack, and began grooming them.

"The adulteress," Gwaine said.

"Yeah," Elyan pursed his lips. He was never going to get away from what Gwen had done.

As the worked the morning clouds disappeared and the two knights chose to remain outside and enjoy the warmth of the sun.

"Sir Elyan, Sir Gwaine," Bedivere joined them after about half-an-hour.

"The bear seems drawn to small groups of people. It frequents some areas more than others. We'll head out without the horses and see about this bear. The Headman's wife has packed us a lunch. If we're not able to deal with it today we'll overnight here go out again in the morning."

              They spent the first afternoon in the woods. Clouds had scudded across the sun again bringing a late spring rain that soaked their hair and dulled their armor. For all that the bear had been reported as harassing anyone entering the woods in small groups the knights of Camelot found themselves bored and trying to pass the time with stories and jokes. The rain stopped by suppertime. As the day drew to a close the headman's wife, accompanied by her youngest son and daughter, brought the evening meal.

              The food was simple and filling. Tilda sat knitting while the knights ate. The two children began playing, some game involving a ball. Elyan found his eyes drawn to the youngster as they ran back and forth laughing and shrieking. Eventually they started some game that involved jumping over one and other and Elyan couldn't help but think they were having a very good time.

               They finished supper. Tilda and her children collected the wooden dishes and utensils and headed back to the village. Sir Bedivere estimated that they had a few hours of daylight left so they might as well give it a bit longer. Sadly the evening finished without the bear putting in an appearance.

              The next three days passed much the same way. Some days they carried a packed lunch or supper. Tilda, always accompanied by her two youngest, brought them at least one meal. From time-to-time Elyan noticed Tilda watching him, her expression thoughtful. Other times he caught her looking at her boy, her expression a bit sad.

              Elise pinned her younger brother to the ground.

              "Do you give? Do you give?"

              The boy tapped out and Elyan couldn't resist a smile. Gwen had always beaten him at games when they were little. By the time he was old enough to beat her she'd lost interest in children's games, it had seemed so unfair at the time.

              "You have children?" Tilda's voice brought him out of his reverie.

              "What makes you ask?"

              "The way you watch them as if you're remembering something."

              Elyan nodded. "No, but I do have a sister. Like Elise, she's just a bit older than me."

              "They're very close. He has little boys that he plays with and she has her little girlfriends, but they always come back to one and other."

              "Yeah."

              "I'd like to thank you."

              Elyan turned his full attention to Tilda now.

              "All of you really for coming out here, for helping us, protecting Camelot, but especially you and Sir Gwaine ." she finished.

              "Sir Gwaine and I?"

              "Yes the commoner-knights."

              Elyan studied her, wondering what had prompted the last.

              "Moommmm!" The boy called her voice indignant.

              "Excuse me," Tilda hurried off in the direction of her children.

              ______________________________________________________________________

On the evening of their fourth day in Bayberry the people gathered in the village square drinking beer and mead round a bonfire.  They sat in groups of three and four sometimes larger sometimes smaller old and young alike exchanging stories, jokes and gossip. Someone produced a drum and pipes and the people began to dance. Elyan and Gwaine were sitting playing with a pair of dice. It was during the midst of this gathering that Tilda approached them an earthen mug in hand.

"You're Guinevere's brother aren't you?" Her expression was unreadable.

"What makes you say that?" He knew his tone was defensive, but these people here…

Tilda cocked her head to one side. "Everyone knows that Sir Elyan is the sister of Guinevere."

Elyan shot a glance at Gwaine and sighed before turning his attention back to Tilda.

"What of it?"

"I'm a friend," she smiled then and there was an edge of bitterness to it.  "We have something in common you and me. My sister was also an adulteress. That’s part of the reason why I helped your sister. You see I didn't help mine."

She raised her eyes and he saw such sadness in them that Elyan was struck dumb.

"My sister's name was-is Tacita. She was still fairly young when her husband divorced her and she came to me because we have very little family. I was angry with her of course and I felt the shame, the same shame you feel and I worried over the reputation of my daughters." Tilda took a sip from earthen mug. "My husband would not let me take her in. Still sometimes she slept out back and I gave her food; let her warm herself at our hearth. She would disappear for two or three days at a time and I would worry of course. I felt that I should do something more, but I was angry and how could she be so stupid?  What was worth losing everything?  What was worth shaming all of us? One autumn evening she disappeared as usual, but after three days Tacita didn't come back." She paused and shifted position.

"Three days turned into a week, a week turned into a month, one month turned into two, three...Snow fell, winter choked the world and still no sign of her. Spring came at last; in the thaw we found the body of a woman. At first we thought it was her, but it wasn't."

 She paused then and Elyan hoped she wouldn't cry.

"She turned up in late spring, she was very pregnant and she looked-" Tilda pressed her hands to her lips and inhaled and exhaled. Elyan thought perhaps she was drawing up her strength.  

"She looked- she had so many bruises old and new. I was no longer confused. I insisted that she live with us, my husband looked unhappy, but didn't argue. My change of heart came much too late though. 'Cita was so changed. She cried all the time, had nightmares and by god she was afraid everything. Eventually she confided to me that bandits had taken her sometime during the fall and kept her for the course of the winter. I also found out," she paused a strange and bitter smile on her face "I found out that when she would disappear for those two or three days at a time she was lying with some of the men from this very village, married ones. They gave her food and shelter in exchange for sex, the hypocrites! "

"Some men have no sense of honor about them," Gwaine muttered.

She sighed again and Elyan could see that she was trembling in every line of her body.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to." She made a fist and her voice cracked "I've never actually told the story. Everyone knows it, but..."

He nodded and took her hand.

"So she lived with us until the baby was born. Some women even unhappy ones cheer up with a new baby and I know she missed her son so. But her sadness only grew with the birth and she seemed so tired all the time." There was a plaintive bewilderment in her voice. "My husband grew frustrated with her, said she was a useless mouth. They were just little comments at first and I kept my peace because she was an adulteress and what husband wouldn't be angry at having his wife's adulteress sister living with them. But it hurt her more than I understood perhaps even more than she understood and he just got meaner. Finally one day -I wasn't there I don't know how it started- they had a horrible row, it turned violent and she left. She didn't take her boy, she didn't take anything. She was just gone. That was four years ago. I've not seen her since, I've not heard from her- I don't even know if she's alive."

She started crying then and proper or improper Elyan put an arm around her shoulders. For one moment she leaned against him.

"No. I'm not finished. There is more I have to say." She pulled away from him then and she looked him directly in the eye. "My sister was wrong, she was foolish and she shamed our family. I did what so many others do under the exact same circumstances. But knowing a little of what she suffered, knowing what she might yet be suffering…I think of her everyday and I worry about her every day. And I dream- oh the most difficult things- I dream. You see I may have been cold enough to let it all happen, but I'm not cold enough to live with it and somehow I don't think you are either."

"Tilda I don't-"

"Wife!" Carle's voice cut shrilly through their conversation.

Tilda sighed and drew in a breath. "My husband is missing me." She rose and stalked in his direction expression one of annoyance.

"Damn." Gwaine said it.

"I stayed in Camelot because of Gwen."

"Really?"

"When I was a kid the air in Camelot used to stink with the smell of burnt flesh. It lingers in the air for days. There was this one year when attending executions was mandatory. When I left it was my plan to never come back," Elyan looked into the distance for a moment. "When Gwen, Arthur, Morgana and Merlin came to the castle of Freyian, I started to think that maybe Camelot had changed. Uther was certainly not the type of king to risk anything for someone as unimportant as a blacksmith's son. Gwen spoke so highly of Arthur- There was hope in her voice… "Elyan sighed and shrugged.  "When we rode back into the city the air didn't stink. I had missed my sister and not everything about Camelot was bad. There is nothing like a fresh loaf from the Goodes or light pouring into the valley at sunrise." He smiled a bit "I decided to remain in Camelot.  Gwen had to struggle a lot after dad died maybe that’s why she fell so hard being alone and all. I don't know. She had changed, in good ways. We spent time together skipping rocks, fishing, playing cards with Dafyd and Enid. We were actually kind of happy. But Uther- his shadows looms large. She started nursing him.  How could she?"  

"Uther was a not a king to inspire love or good feelings." Gwaine took a sip from his flask.

"I was so angry with her and then this scandal. I thought I was supposed to stick to my sworn oath, but…"

"Now you want to go and find her?"

"I'm not sure I can do anything-"

The sudden harsh clanging sound of a warning bell echoed through the village then and Gwaine and Elyan ran for the headsmen's lodge.

_____________________________________________________________________

The girl was scratched and dirty, brown hair lank and greasy about her head.

"Tell the knights what you told me?" Headman Carle prodded the girl.

She looked at them in the firelight, dark eyes wide, face pale.

"Bandits they came out of the woods, we had no warning, no sign just one day from the direction of the sun, bandits."

"How long ago?"

The girl licked her lips, and held up four fingers.

"We're going of course." Elyan declared thinking of Tilda's story.

"Of course we are." Sir Bedivere said.

Elyan got to his feet.

"But not tonight," Sir Bedivere said "With no moon your horse could stumble and go lame, you could break your neck."

"First light then."

"First light."

Gwaine was not surprised to wake in the morning and find Elyan gone. If he had feared for Adras as Elyan now feared for Gwen no doubt he'd do the same. Elyan had recalled his affection for his sister late, but he had recalled it. When Bedivere woke Gwaine pulled the one-armed knight aside and told him a little of what Tilda had shared with them last night as an explanation for Elyan's absence.

"It's a terrible thing." The larger man said when Gwaine finished. "Still Elyan's not stupid he won't challenge the bandits without the rest of us, not unless he has to."

 Trusting Elyan not to do anything foolish the knights had a quick breakfast and got on the road.

They found Elyan in the headsman's cottage of Waymet, sharpening his sword. He looked up with a fearsome smile as they entered.

"Good you're here. I've already scouted their position no sign of any captives.  They're in a good location for defense, but they are just bandits and a motley lot at that."

"Very well Sir Elyan lead the way."

____________________________________________________________________

This was the easiest part of his job, no politics here. In a battle you studied your opponent, people played their games but there was so much less to consider, so much less to anticipate. Your opponents could only hide so much and in a fight the hardest working, most skilled opponent always won. The bandits were easy meat and he never felt bad about slaying them. They robbed and killed honest hard working people, abused women and children and sold free people as slaves. The battle –if you could call that- was over in minutes.

The more laborious task of making certain they were dead and disposing of their bodies could begin. Camelot claimed all the armor and weapons were collected and would be sold or given to the black smiths. Personal items such as jewelry, clothing, or tools would sit with the crown for a year if it could identified, it would be returned to the owners. If not it became the property of Camelot.

It was the stripping of the third body that set dread surging through Elyan. The man had been lying, green eyes staring and sightless, mouth parted in shock…A blade through the gut had felled him, but it was clear to Elyan that he was in a bad way before the battle. He was sallow skinned, eyes puffy with dark circles. Long red claw marks, swollen and oozing marked his shoulder. Had the man been attacked by the bear?

What had set the nearly painful surge of dread through Elyan though was the blade at the bandit's waist. EET, Elyan knew his mark anywhere. This was the first good knife that he'd made, the knife he'd given to Gwen. He wore its sister GJ on his waist right now. His eyes swept the bandit's corpse again and felt the beginnings of a sob in his throat. About the man's neck on a leather cord there was a ring. His sister was a sentimental woman. She would never willingly give up the wedding ring Arthur had given her. Seeing it on a thong around the dead man's neck could only mean one thing.

              Bile surged into the back of his throat and he bit it back. Gwen could not be- She'd made it as far south as Waymet. She passed Bayberry. She could have crossed paths with these bandits anywhere. She could have been taken like Tilda's sister or robbed and slain. His throat and chest grew tight.

              "Gwen." He whispered her name and the trees of the forest seemed to dance and spin.

              "Elyan?" He snatched the thong from round the bandit's neck and quickly stowed it in his belt pouch.

              "Yes." He replied without looking up. With shaking fingers he got the belt knife off the bandit.

              "When you have finished with that come give us a hand with these corpses?"

              "Of course," his voiced sounded strange and husky to his own ears and he tried to breath. Guinevere was dead at the hand of bandits. In his mind's eye he saw this man –now dead at his feet- laying rough hands on his sister. His sister, so like his mother- Elyan pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and  choked back a sob. He got to his feet and surveyed the corpses of the bandits. He counted them, twenty. Had they- He'd met women that had been made to slave to bandits or invading armies.  They were not- They were blighted beyond all vitality, all beauty, wrecked women, truly ruined. Was Gwen now so destroyed, living somewhere like Tilda's sister, growing an unwanted bastard in her womb?

              "Sir Elyan you look unwell." He hadn't heard Sir Bedivere approach.

              "I am injured." He clutched at his side. "It is not so bad, but I should probably have it checked."

              The senior knight nodded. "Yes of course. Can you mount and ride?"

              "I believe so."

              "Good go back to the village and get yourself taken care of. We will see to this."

              "Yes." Elyan turned and headed toward the horses moving slowly so as not to give away his lie. Gwaine ran up alongside him.

              "You sure you are well?"

              "I-I'm fine." He said it somehow.

              "No you're not." Gwaine accused his voice low. "Is it just an injury?"

              The two men kept walking the taller keeping up with the shorter easily.

              Elyan passed a quivering hand before his eyes. "I will tell you, but you must promise not to share this with the others."

              "I promise, but why?"

              He had promised too quickly. "Swear it on your oath as a knight."

              "Elyan?"

              "I will tell them, but not yet."

              "Very well Elyan I swear on my oath as a knight that I will not reveal to anyone what you are about to tell me before you do."

              The younger knight produced the ring.

              Gwaine swallowed before speaking. "It’s the ring Arthur gave to Gwen."

              "I found it on that corpse back there along with the knife I gave her."

              The two men started up the slope to where they had picketed the horses.

              "You think she is dead?"

              "I pray she is not…" Elyan lapsed into silence.

              "So what are you going to do?"

              "I need to try and find her, maybe…"

              "I'll come with you."

              "Not yet my friend," Elyan almost smiled. "I'm just going back to the village now talk to Tilda. Can you stay here and search for any signs of captives or-" His eyes strayed to the pile of bodies.

              "I understand." Gwaine surprised him with a quick rough hug before hurrying back to the others.

              ____________________________________________________________________

              He found Tilda in her home preparing her evening meal. Her dark hair in one long braid, youngest children running about. She took one look at him and blanched.

              "Elise, Tommy go outside."

              "But-" the boy protested and Tilda fixed both children with such a stern look that they hurried outside without another a word. "Sir Elyan sit down please."

              He did.

              "What has happened?"

              Elyan sucked at his bottom lip a moment, his heart wanted only to mourn his sister, but he was not willing to give into that, not yet.

              "I found Gwen's things," he swallowed "personal things, things she would never give up, never sell on the corpse of a bandit."

              Tilda's gasped and Elyan saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes as she started to massage her forehead.

              "Elyan I am so sorry- I had hoped-" She pressed a trembling hand to her lips.

              Elyan swept his eyes over her thin trembling form.

              "I should not have come to you with this, I am sorry."

              She took a breath long and deep then, her spine straightened.

              "No I want to help." She looked at him, "tell me what you need."

              He studied her for a moment.                

              "I have not given up my sister for dead."

              The older woman took a deep breath. "You are going to look for her?"

              "Yes."

              "How can I help?"

              "When you saw my sister did she have those items?"

              "I do not recall seeing a ring, but I saw her with that knife."

              "Damn!" He slapped the table with an open fist. He had cherished the hope that Gwen's meeting with Tilda would have come after the bandit.

              "Do not think the worst, anything could have happened." She sat on the stool beside him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Are you going to look for her?"

              "I cannot do anything else."

              There was a flash of something in her expression and she nodded.

              "She told me she was making for Ealdor. I suggested she shelter in the old waystations since the villages had become so hostile." The older woman got to her feet. "You'll be needing some supplies."

              "You shouldn't-"

              "I want to." Her stern tone brooked no argument.

              "As you wish."

              "I'm doing it for your sister as much as my own."

              Half-an hour later in addition to his own supplies Elyan had several days worth of dried grain and fish, and some dried fruit, a chunk of lye soap, a sewing kit, and a few oil soaked rags for the making of torches."

              "Thank you Tilda thank you for everything."

              "You're welcome and god bless. I shall pray for you and Gwen."

              Elyan mounted his horse and continued south.  Each time he looked back Tilda was there and he knew she was sorry for both of them.   

              _______________________________________________________________________

              Elyan stared at the river Cadmus. Signs of recent flooding were everywhere. He had found a man that claimed to have spoken to Gwen. Bryn, a tall fellow, light brown hair threaded with grey and pale blue eyes. He reminded Elyan of their Uncle John.  Gwen would have accepted this man's advice. Bryn told him that Gwen had passed that way perhaps a month ago. She seemed well, sad, but well.  He couldn't say whether or not she had a ring, he was certain she'd had a knife. Bryn went on to explain that he'd advised Guinevere to ford the river at shallow point about three day's walk east. He couldn't say with any certainty what she had chosen, but he'd seen her start east before he himself had turned around. Elyan thanked the older man and started on the road immediately.

              If she'd gone east at the river then there her trail would grow cold. Still a month ago there would have been few hours of daylight. Heaving a heavy cart across the forest floor would have been slow work.  He could probably cover her three day's foot travel in a day and half, two at the most.  Elyan made up his mind that he would look for any trail to follow.  He reached the river the next day and then headed east into the woods. Elyan kept his eyes open for any sign of her passing but he was not hopeful. Any physical trace of her journey would have been obliterated over the course of a month. Again he considered heading straight for Ealdor. If she were there then his search would be over, but if she'd been lost somewhere between Waymet and Ealdor then he needed to follow that path and where it led.

              The woods were in full bloom when Elyan, Tom's son, knight of Camelot entered them. Entering the forest in the morning with the sun at full height was like crossing into a twilight world. The forest canopy blocked most the daylight and absorbed much of sun's warmth. The ground was cool and largely bare as new trees and growth got very little sun.  Travel by horse was easy. The forest floor was as clear as any road and Elyan made good time.  From time-to-time he thought of his fellow knights, worried that he was being irresponsible again. It couldn't be helped. He had to do this. His thoughts were filled with Gwen and their mother.  Was it as so many said? Did their mother's spirit watch over them? Was she disappointed in Elyan, in Gwen? Time drilled on as he rode and the deeper into the woods he traveled the more the outer world fell away as the closeness of the inner world grew.

              He thought on it, thought of Tacita and came to understand one thing. No matter what everyone else thought or expected, Gwen had failed their family and he in turn had failed her…

              Night descended and Elyan made his camp, near the river. The day had been long and draining. In spite of his worries he slept easily. Slept and dreamt about Gwen and how she might be suffering, dreamed again of failing his parents and woke to the disappointing dimness of false dawn. He could not sleep again, but could not get on the road. He waited quietly, calmly wishing for some activity to fill his mind and time. Instead his thoughts wound the well worn paths of where Gwen might be. For the first time since finding the ring Elyan let himself cry for his sister.

He ate a cold breakfast when there was light enough and was in the saddle as soon he could see. 

              In the middle of his second day of travel -as if cued- Elyan spied fluttering on the breeze, trapped amongst the growth along river something bright orange and green and yellow. He brought his horse to a stop and dismounted quickly. It took but a tug to pluck his grandmother Ngimbe's kente cloth from amidst the prickly shrubbery growing at the riverside. Something else Gwen would never give up willingly. Had she perhaps drowned trying to cross the river? Had her cart been smashed her things scattered everywhere to simply be found by the bandits?

              Elyan stared at the Cadmus. According to Bryn it had been flooded when Gwen had tried to cross. Here the signs of that were far less. In fact there was no sign of Gwen or her passage save the family's Kente Cloth. While he was glad to have found it, in truth it told him nothing about where Gwen might be. Elyan wrapped the ring and the knife in the Kente cloth and remounted.

He let his horse take him across the river. Elyan searched for any sign of her anything of hers left behind. It was much too late for the telltale signs of trail, a narrow footprint or broken blade of grass. He found no other clues such as the kente cloth and if there were any to find. Where in all the world could he begin to look for her? He should have just gone straight to Ealdor if she had made it there safe then his search was over. If not- He surveyed the woods…would he ever know what had become of her?

It was another three days before he crossed the border into Ealdor. He knew Merlin's mother by name if not by sight and found her easily enough. Unhappily she reported that Guinevere had never come there. He had come late to Ealdor late in the day. The people there were generous enough to share their evening meal with him and give space on the floor of the headman's cottage. He slept poor and troubled that night waking several times from nightmares. He was on the road with the dawn heading north.

He had failed. No one would fault himself, nor Tilda for her choices. If Gwen had met her fate at the hands of some bandit, if even now she slaved in some strange land there were many who would say it was her just dessert. But she was his sister and he could not stop loving her. Like Tilda, Elyan could not now convince himself to consign her to the fates and pretend that she never existed. However it was not only his lack of action that had led him to this place. There was one other that would share this burden with him.

              ________________________________________________________________

A ring thunked onto the king's desk.

Merlin watched the change come over Arthur, saw the king leave them all behind for world inhabited by only himself and one other.

"It was found-," Elyan's words broke the silence.

"-Found-" Arthur repeated the last word.

"On the body of a bandit."

"The body-"

 The last time Merlin had seen Elyan he had been as a man divided. A man torn by family loyalty and the oath of loyalty he'd sworn as a knight, haunted, burdened by grief, guilt, anger and shame. He carried none of that today, today he was righteous.

"This was also found," Elyan held up a knife still in it's sheath and Merlin tensed.

"My sister would not give up these things, she would not sell them; she loves too well..." The knight's voice was heavy and husky.

The two men stared at each other. The meaning of Elyan's words sunk in, the accusation in his eyes evident. Finally the king was forced to look away.

"You must accept my resignation sire."

"Elyan-"

"-Your father killed my father,"

-Arthur winced and everyone knew what must come next-

"-and now you've killed my sister."

A shudder passed through the king and he looked as if Elyan had struck him. What happened then no one expected. Arthur turned his head and threw up.

___________________________________________________________________

"Again?" The guard said.

The stocks were clapped round Joseph's head. He and Afon had come to blows about Anne. At least Afon was standing in the stocks beside him.

"Yup, brawling over a woman," another guard replied."What is this, the twelfth man now put in the stocks for this?"

When the first one had been brought down people had found it fun to come and throw food at the people in the stocks. But when the stories started come out and there was someone there week after week, sometimes the husbands, sometimes the wives. The people had begun to feel nervous. Husbands did not trust their wives, wives did not trust themselves and the people now hurried past the stocks, gaze averted, praying and crossing themselves. It was beginning to feel as if some plague had settled over Camelot.

"Ya' know that Gwen was arrested a time or two for witchery and there was her father and that friends of theirs all condemned on charges of sorcery. Maybe she was a witch; put a curse on the city when she left."

"You're an idiot.If she was a witch why let herself get banished?"

"Maybe but something ain't right."

____________________________________________________________________

Sarah Goode was the baker's daughter. At thirteen years of age she'd found her true love. But he was fifteen and disinclined to take note of a thirteen year old girl, much less fall in love with her. Still they were force to spend time together and at the close of a year when Sarah Goode was fourteen her true love was returned.

              While fourteen was considered an acceptable age for marriage Sarah's parents would have none. Everyone knew stories of girls wedded and bedded too soon and therefore killed by it. Rolfe the young man who loved her so understood this and waited patiently while she aged into healthy adulthood. Fifteen and sixteen, two years passed and Sarah's parents told them to wait one more.

              The lovers satisfied themselves with stolen kisses and survived the horrors that often seemed to descend on Camelot.

              Questing beast, gargoyles, dragons, sorcerers returned from the dead, armies of undead, witch-Queen Morgana. They survived it all keeping each other and their families safe.

 Everyday Sarah walked past the adulteress's house and everyday she thought the same thought. How could she?

              When it had come to be known that Prince Arthur loved a handmaid, the former maid of his sister Morgana, the peasants of Camelot were confused and worried. They knew Gwen and many of them liked or loved her but they knew noblemen too. They'd promise a lower class girl anything, take what they wanted and go. Or if his feelings were true the best the girl might hope for was to be his mistress. When it came to be known that Arthur and Guinevere had, like she and Rolfe loved each for years, Sarah felt tied them. And when she wished for happiness she wished it for the four of them. The king had loved Guinevere for only little longer then she had loved her Rolfe.

               When the story of the adultery spread Sarah had taken it personally. She worried that somehow all the comparisons she had drawn between Arthur and Guinevere and herself and Rolfe now doomed her love too.

              Sarah's finger traced the interior of the bracelet. The metal was surprisingly warm against her fingertip as if it pulsed with its own life. It gleamed in a way she'd never seen before. She knew she should take it to the magistrate. Clearly it was the property of some lady and if it was seen on the wrist of peasant maid she'd be arrested. Yet Sarah did not do that. Instead she thought about how lovely the band of silver would be on her wrist; in her mind's eye she could see it as she wore her wedding dress.

As difficulties mount for King Arthur in Camelot Chapter 6, A New Life saw Guinevere settling into a new home and making new friends. However she also heard the words of prophecy from a chance meeting with a fortune teller called Matilde. Angered at the suggestion that she still had some part to play in Camelot's future Guinevere fled to her home.

The Exile

Part II, Chapter VIII

The Stranger

              Guinevere fought the wind all the way back to Ms. Alfonsa's. Twice the wind tore the heavy wooden door out of her grip before she finally pried it open. With the door open, Gwen threw herself inside before it could slam shut a third time. For one moment she rested soaked and shivering against wooden solidness of the door. The foyer was a dusk world without lamp or sunlight. She surveyed the shadowy room for a moment. The dull distant echo of rain could be heard thudding onto the roof and there was a close closed feel to the townhouse.

              The young woman slipped off her shoes and gathered her skirts up around her knees. The nice thing about living with only women was that you could run about in your chemise or carry your skirts above your knees with no one to criticize, complain or leer. The "female fortress" Ms. Alfonsa laughingly called it. The hallway loomed dark before her and Gwen ran for the kitchen trying to drip as little water as possible onto the floor.

She was no one's Queen just a fool.

Gwen entered the scullery through the kitchen, hung her surcoat and then dress on a line strung for that purpose. When the rain stopped she would hang both items outside. Her chemise and stays were mostly dry so she left those on. With her wet clothing hung, Gwen squeezed her dark curls into the scullery washtub and watched the water flow down the drain into a cutlet to be carried outside. She tugged at the laces on her stays. The young woman wore only a simple front lacing stay with just three ties that came loose with a tug. Stays loosened, Gwen felt instantly relaxed. She looked at her wet things with a sigh; it had been stupid to run away like that.

              "The choice of Guinevere," Matilde's words echoed in her thoughts.

              She wrenched the scullery door opened, strode into the kitchen and stopped to stand before the far counter thinking.

              Guinevere drummed her fingers on the dark wooden counter, here and there were scratches and nicks. She wondered briefly how old these counters were.

              "Choice," she muttered the word and froze as long shadow stretched across the room. She was not alone. Her eyes flicked to a shiny copper pot and Gwen saw the reflection of a strange red-haired man there.  She snatched up the copper pot and whirled in almost one motion.

              Cookware held before her like a sword, Gwen demanded answers. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

              The stranger lifted his hands and took a step backwards. Like her, he was dripping water.

              "I'm a friend of Ms. Alfonsa's. She should be meeting me here soon. It was raining and the door was unlocked. I let myself in." The young man's eyes dropped briefly to her chest and loosened stays.

              "Likely story." Gwen brought her free arm across her chest to cover her semi-nude state and studied the red-head. He was tall and slim and young looking. Damp red hair was pushed back from a rather pretty face. Delicately curved brows arched over wide brown eyes, a regal nose, full rosy lips and chin that drew to a surprisingly narrow point for a man.

              "I truly am a friend of Ms. Alfonsa's and no threat to you. I am unarmed."

              The young man dropped his hands and pushed his green duster back to reveal narrow hips and a fancy white tunic embroidered with green and blue flowers.

              "Who are you?" Gwen asked not at all reassured.

              "I apologize miss," the young man bowed as elegantly as she had ever seen. "My name is Adras."

              "Adras?" Gwen lowered her weapon just a bit. Gwaine's sister? This man was awfully slim and pretty and Synove said Adras dressed like a man.

              The young man-woman- person in front of her smiled.

              "I knocked, no one answered and I didn't want to wait out in the rain. I figured I should probably hang up my coat in the scullery."

Guinevere looked at the puddle forming on the tiled floor at Adras' feet.

              "Very well go on then." She motioned toward the scullery with the pot. Adras kept his hands up and sidled into the scullery. Synove had said she'd meet Adras sooner or later. Was this Adras' also Gwaine's sister? Whoever he was he didn't seem dangerous but… Guinevere remembered the way he looked her up and down switched the pot for a knife.

              "Is that surcoat yours, it's really pretty?"

              "Thank you and its mine."

Adras' eyes went to the knife as he, she- stepped out of the scullery.

 "You really don't need that." He pointed at the knife Gwen held.

 Her only response was to frown and hold the weapon higher.

"First of all Guinevere or I suppose its Jenafere now-I am Ms. Alfonsa's guest. Second my brother Gwaine asked me to look out for you, third-"

In what seemed to be no more than the blink of any eye Adras had closed the distance between them and gotten the knife out of her hand. Guinevere stared, he-she, was so fast.

"And fourth Adras of Wyeledon at your service, I am much too chivalrous to hurt lady." The redhead bowed and extended the knife back to her hilt-first. Guinevere took it with a limp hand and set it on the counter, it certainly was no use to her.

              "I see."

Adras straightened a smile on her face.

"You're not going to grab anymore weapons are you?"

"No." Guinevere replied. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be upstairs."

Not sure what else to do Guinevere went upstairs.  Alone she combed and braided her damp curls and pulled on a fresh kirtle. Dressed in dry clothing Gwen surveyed the room she shared with her housemates. She put away a hair brush that Synove had left out and smoothed Ylsa's bedding.  She knew she should probably go downstairs and talk to Adras, make sure she was comfortable and perhaps asks her about a job. But she would have to talk about her history.

Instead Gwen went to her cabinet and pulled out her satchel. Today was rent day. Ms. Alfonsa had left early that morning and Gwen had yet to pay for her fourth week at the townhouse. She surveyed the little purses of money. They were dwindling.  Guinevere pulled out a purse of coppers and dumped four on the bed. She put the purse and the remaining coppers back into the satchel and wedged her hand down to the bottom looking for and finding the reassuring thickness of her few pieces of gold. They were of course still there. Feeling some measure of safety at finding them Gwen put the satchel away. She had no real reason to believe they would be gone but she still liked to check on them from time to time. Gwen put the rent money in her pocket and went in search of something to occupy her mind.

              ___________________________________________________________________________

 Sadly Luisa was much too good at her job. Everything in the house was clean and orderly. Gwen found herself dusting things that didn't need dusting before deciding that the dining table needed an extra layer of polish.

"I-" Gwen jumped at the sound of the unexpected voice and heard Adras's warm chuckle.

 "I don't think I've ever seen a table given such thorough treatment. That’s going to have quite a glow to it by the time you're done. Oh and you might just offend Luisa."

Guinevere set the rag down and faced Adras.

"Why don't you join me?" She held up a plate of bread, cheese, nuts and black and red olives.

She did rather liked olives and Gwen suspected Adras must have brought them over because there hadn't been any before. Besides it would be one rudeness on top of another to refuse at this point.

Adras pushed the parlor door open and Guinevere entered. The other woman had laid out a game of solitaire and Gwen had a seat opposite Adras'. The redhead set the lunch tray on the table between them and returned to her seat. Feeling a bit hungry Gwen popped an olive in her mouth.

"Well, look at that. I was winning." Adras gathered the cards and began shuffling.

"What did your brother tell you about me?"

"So you are Guinevere then?"

"I prefer Jenafere but yes." Guinevere picked at her cotton skirt eyeing the intricate pattern of the rug. "What did Gwaine tell you about me?"

"Not much," that you were a wonderful, kind and caring woman, there was some trouble afoot and to please look out for you." I assumed the two of you were lovers, you're certainly pretty enough."

"No!" Guinevere declared.  Did everyone seem to think she was some kind of harlot? "Why would you think that? What'd he put in that letter?"

"Nothing, I just know my brother and I know how he is with an attractive woman, that's all. He didn't actually say anything about an affair."

Guinevere took a deep breath, "oh sorry."

"You've nothing to apologize for."

The lamplight flickered and Guinevere watched the progress of an ant across the leaves of the plant in the parlor corner while shadows danced along the gleaming wood paneling.

"Jenafere-"

"-Jen please."

"Very well Jen, My brother and I are quite close. I wouldn't have my son right now if it weren't for him. So if he asks me for a favor then I want to fulfill it." Adras' eyes were very sincere. "If you need anything please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you."

The two women lapsed into silence, Gwen listening to the steady staccato beat of rain on the rooftop.

"How long have you been in the city?"

"About three weeks." She said absently.

"I've been here for," Adras paused, "goodness, seven years now.  It's quite amazing. The merchants fancy it another Rome; they've finally finished their coliseum.  Lysistrata is playing there some nights and other days there are tournaments and bearing baiting."

Guinevere grimaced.

"Bear baiting does require a strong stomach. But Wyeledon is one of the most amazing cities in all of Britannia."

"Hmmm, I've yet to see much of it."

"Your housemates haven't shown you the city at all? I know Kerenza is always busy," Adras rolled her eyes, "but surely Ylsa or Synove…" Adras' voice had lost its slightly masculine tone.

"No." Gwen sat back in her chair, "they've been perfectly pleasant. It's just I lost most of my things and have had to spend my time making clothes. Then I'll be looking for a job. The other girls have offered to loan me their things but-"

"It's not the same."  The lamplight flickered across Adras' pale face and gleamed against her red curls. A smile lit her face. "You made the green surcoat hanging in the scullery?"

Gwen nodded.

"You're truly talented."

"Thank you."

"You said you needed a job right?"

"Yes." She ate another of the olives.

"Have you considered working as a seamstress?"

There was a hopeful look on Adras' face.

"I have actually."

"Perhaps you would do some work for me?"

Gwen considered that for a moment while Adras broke the small loaf of brown bread in half with slim elegant fingers.

"What do you need?"

"Pants. Madame Santiago does excellent work, but nothing like your surcoat. Perhaps you could take my measurements now."

Guinevere thought it over for a moment and headed upstairs for some twine. She had been looking for something to do and she did need income.

She measured Adras in thumblengths, stretching the twine alongside her thumb marking the woman's size with simple knots. First she measured Adras' waist and hips and then knelt on the rug to measure her inseam.

"Do you like these trousers that you're wearing now?" Guinevere tugged at the hem of Adras' pants they look rather a lot like a skirt actually.

"I like the color and fabric not the way that they fit."

"So you'd want something closer cut?"

"Exactly."

"A straight leg then," Guinevere gathered the fabric to demonstrate.

"You'd make something like that?" Adras' dark eyes were quite confused. "Don't you find it improper? Everyone else seems to."

Guinevere considered it for a moment "You're not paying me to have an opinion; you're paying me to make something that you'll like and will look good on you."

"Ah so if I wasn't paying then what would you think?"

Guinevere rose to her feet.

"Well a dress is considered appropriate" she paused a moment "but I have lived a rather inappropriate life myself. So who am I to tell others what is and is not appropriate especially when it's for something of as little consequence as clothing."

Adras looked at her rather seriously. "Jenafere I cannot imagine you as anything other than appropriate."

Gwen stood "I'm not certain if that is a compliment or an insult."

Adras laughed then "Compliment. I'll send a cart for you on Thursday and we'll have a few fabric merchants meet us there."  

"Thursday is fine but" Guinevere replied."I think we'd do better to shop at the market."

"At the market?"

"Yes. They charge you to come your house I'm sure and you don't get a complete selection. We really would do better to go to the market unless of course you'd rather not?"

Adras looked to be thinking it over for a moment and then shrugged "Very well, let us go to the market on Thursday morning."

"Hi Jen, Ms. Adras."

"Synove."

Guinevere looked over her shoulder and saw Synove standing in the doorway a frown on her plump pretty face, blue dress damp from the rain. She didn't see Adras smirk at the other woman.

"Hi! We didn't hear you come in. Sorry I ran off like that."

The other woman shrugged.

"Are Ylsa and Kerenza with you?

"Kerenza is upstairs," Synove folded her hands primly, eyes on Adras "Ylsa never rejoined us."

"Should we be worried?" Adras asked.

"Not yet. It's still raining a bit so she probably decided to wait a little longer."

"Very well," Guinevere started from the room "I've got to go and put these measures away."

____________________________________________________________________________

Ylsa stood in the doorway of their sleeping chamber hands in her pockets, rain soaked dark hair shrunk into a short woolen cap. Jenafere sat under the window head bent rather studiously over yet another dress. After Jen had run off she and Matilde had sat talking for a bit and she did not like what Matilde had told her. Ylsa studied the mural round the fire place for a moment. The angels' dark brown eyes stared back at her. She took a deep breath.

"Are you well Jen?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Jen answered without looking up.

"A visit with Matilde can be very distressing."

"False fortune telling is not worth the time it takes to say it."

Ylsa took in her friend's intense concentration, her studied attention to the work in her hands.

"Maltide's fortunes are often helpful."

"It’s a shame the rain ruined our outing. I would have loved to have seen the ocean."

Ylsa sighed and looked at the hair clip; it's going to catch up with you sooner or later. The mid-wife walked to her cabinet and put the clip with her own hair ornaments.

"You will love the ocean. The next time the weather is nice we absolutely must go. Um Jen?"

"Yes?" She finally looked up from her work.

"I know you're busy but do you think you might help me braid up my hair?"

She smiled then "Sure."

"I haven't missed dinner have I?" Ylsa asked that as Jen set aside the dress, she hated missing meals.

"No." Ylsa heard the suppressed laughter in Jenafere's voice and shrugged.

It didn't take at all long for the two women to get Ylsa's wet hair into a pile of simple braids. Just as they were finishing, Luisa called them for dinner.

The household was neither large nor wealthy. Luisa set the table before dinner and ate with them. Adras and Ms. Alfonsa had been closeted in the older woman's study since she returned with Father Flaejer in tow. Now both guest joined them for dinner, Ms. Alfonsa at the head of the table Father Flaejer on her right, Adras on her left. Firelight from beeswax candles cast a gentle glow over the dining room.

              "So Ms. Jeni how are you settling in?" Father Flaejer asked.

              "Very well actually, my housemates and I get along quite well and Ms. Alfonsa has been especially helpful."

              "Thank you Jen." Ms Alfonsa said "We're actually rather glad you sent her to us father." The older woman patted the priest's arm affectionately. "Jen is bright and friendly-"

              "-And pays her rent on time," Kerenza looked pointedly at Ms. Alfonsa when she said this.

              "She does." Ms. Alfonsa said unapologetically and the dinner conversation moved along.

              Ylsa told some funny stories about some of her deliveries. Kerenza talked about her master's most recent attempts to turn lead into gold and Synove provided the gossip. When the conversation went silent toward the end of the meal Father Flaejer turned to her again.

              "Have you found work yet?"

              "Adras has given me a job. It's not permanent work but it's a beginning."

              "Doing what?"

              "She's going to make me some pants."

              "Of course," Father Flaejer chuckled and sipped his wine.

              "Jen," Kerenza said, "I know you were worried about your references and all. I told Mr.Leufrid a bit about your situation. He offered to talk Mr. Theobauld about a position. He thinks Mr. Theobauld would take you without references."

              "What's the job?"

              Kerenza made a face, "Maid."

              Unexpected revulsion pulsed through her with the word maid and Gwen could tell by the way everyone looked at her it must have shown on her face.

"Uhhhh-"

"-forget I suggested it Jen," Kerenza said.

              "Listen ladies have any of you had meazlies or small pox?" Father Flaejer asked

              Guinevere, Ylsa and Adras volunteered that they had had both as children. While Synove claimed only smallpox and Kerenza stated that she had had neither.

              "Then you all had better stay out of the port district. There are a few cases of meazli there and one household has been quarantined already."

              "How horrible," Synove remarked.

              "Well Physician Leonard will be paying a visit there to explain the proper treatment for disease to the parents there. If it is treated properly many lives can be saved."

              "That's kind of Leonard but then he is a special kind of man." Ylsa remarked and all eyes shifted in her direction.  "Most physicians think themselves too good for the common folk."

Guinevere caught a small knowing smile on Adras' face and the older woman winked at her.

              "Ylsa that's not true they have to follow the word of their employers it's not their fault if their Lords don't let them attend the people." Synove declared and Ylsa rolled her eyes.

              Guinevere thought briefly of Gaius. Uther and then Arthur had never kept the elder physician from treating the common folk and giving lectures just like the one Father Flaejer had described. But Synove was right; they were at the beck and call of their employers and not all men were brave enough to insist on helping the commoners.

              "You can't fault people for holding onto their positions," Kerenza remarked and Ylsa snorted. Luisa began clearing the table and Ms. Alfonsa requested Synove play for them.

Synove went to collect her lute and everyone retired to the parlor. The dinner conversation continued for a bit while Synove tuned her lute. When she began the first chords of a familiar and lively tune, Father Flaejer asked Ms. Alfonsa for a dance and she consented. Ylsa and Kerenza decided to partner up and that left Gwen with Adras.

It was not at all strange for women to dance partner dances together. But Adras was not like a woman. She dressed like a man, carried herself like a man, talked like a man and even took the lead in the dance like a man. When Adras dipped her, Gwen felt very confused indeed. Synove played two more songs and pleaded weariness. Kerenza got a box from the cabinet in the far corner and a deck of cards.  Seven was too many for most games.

"Cards and parchisi," Kerenza smiled.

"You and that dog-gone parchisi," Synove took the card deck from Kerenza. "Bid whist Gwen?"

"Parchisi is my favorite game actually." She smiled at Kerenza "I'll take the blue pieces."

"So we know what game Gwen is playing." Kerenza said as she sat the box on one of the two tables.

"I'll be yellow." Adras said "Ylsa you'll be green of course."

"Of course," Ylsa said "and Kerenza takes red."

Ylsa and Adras say side-by-side while Father Flaejer, Synove and Ms. Alfonsa started their card game.

"We have a full game for once." Kerenza smiled and started setting up the board.  They had perhaps an hour of gaming before Ms. Luisa ushered in a brown haired girl no more than twelve years of age with wide desperate eyes that focused almost instantly on Ylsa.

Breathless the girl spoke, "My mother-"

"-Is in labor," Ylsa finished with a sigh and the girl nodded as Ylsa got to her feet. "Shit! She's in early labor isn't she?"

The girl nodded and the two of them ran from the room.

They played a few more hands of Bragg but when the hour candle burned down to nine Adras and Father Flaejer both rose.

"It's that time then?" Ms. Alfonsa looked at Father Flaejer, her dark eyes and narrow and serious, beringed hands folded primly in her lap.

"Yes." Adras' voice was quite low.

"Come I'll show you both out."

"Good night ladies." The priest gave them a small smile. "I hope we can enjoy another equally pleasant evening in the near future."

Gwen watched Father Flaejer take Ms Alfonsa's arm and felt the tug of a small smile at the possibility of a romance between the two. A moment later Adras caught her eye and she saw that the redhead was smiling at the sight as well.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Jenafere." Adras said.

"Likewise."

"Kerenza it was lovely to see you again. The next time I visit, you must tell me about your work with Mr.Leufrid."

Kerenza nodded. "I'd be happy to."

"Goodnight Synove." Adras nodded in direction.

"Goodnight Ms. Adras." 

Adras took herself from the room and Guinevere turned back to her housemates.

Synove blew out a breath.

"I'm worried about Ada's mother." Synove declared as Kerenza began shuffling the cards.

"When was she due?" Gwen sat down at the table.

"She is delivering more than a month early," Synove said.

Gwen grimaced.

"I wouldn't worry," Kerenza said.

Guinevere stared at Kerenza. They may not have known Ada's mother but a month or more early surely meant ill. The babe surely could not survive and there was always risk in delivery when a pregnancy progressed normally an early delivery held still more risk for the mother.

"Kerenza, I don't understand you at all." Guinevere looked askance at her housemate.

The russet haired girl began dealing the cards and she spoke without looking up.

 "Ylsa has never lost a mother or child in labor."

              Guinevere forced her eyes open and lay still. She could see the bandit's cold green eyes clear as day. She'd fought him in her dream as she had in life but the bear never came. Instead he'd torn open her blouse, arm pressed against her throat so that she could barely breath. She'd forced herself awake then. The pale grey light of false dawn poured through the window casting a wan glow across their bedroom. Synove murmured in her sleep and Kerenza soft snoring whistled through the room. Ylsa's bed was still empty.

              Gwen turned her head at the sound of the door opening. In the pre-dawn dimness she identified Ylsa' s tiny frame in the doorway just as the other woman began moving across the room.

              She heard the door open and saw the midwife standing there. Ylsa put her bag on top of her cabinet, pulled off her dress and draped it on one of the room's two chairs. A moment later she threw herself on the bed still in her chemise and stays.

              "The mom and baby are they well?" Gwen whispered.

              "Yeah."

Ylsa faced her and Gwen could see the subtle reflection of light off Ylsa's white teeth, the other woman was smiling.

"They were in a bad way but praise god I was able to help them. I'll have to see them at least once a day for a while. The little one will need lots of attention but I think they will both be well."

"Kerenza said you never lost a patient."

"She's exaggerating. Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Couldn't sleep?"

Gwen shuddered, "nightmare."

"Oh, what about?"

"A bandit was…accosting me."

"Ooohhhh."

Ylsa was silent for a while.

"Sometimes I hate men."

Gwen surprised herself by saying "Me too."

"And I hate people who wake me up from sleep in the middle of the night," Kerenza's complaint seemed to come from nowhere.

"Sorry." Both women said in unison.

"I'm too wound up to sleep." Ylsa said in a loud whisper.

"I don't want to go back to sleep." Gwen replied.

"Scoot over."

Gwen did and the tiny woman got out of her bed and lay down beside her. It had grown cool in the night and they snuggled together whispering to one and other while the pink and orange light of the rising sun filled the room dispelling shadows and bringing with it a relaxing warmth.  The sunlight filled the room playing over the soft white crochet bed spread, highlighting Guinevere's black curls and Ylsa's dark shoulder length braids. A gentle breeze stirred the thin curtain hanging over the window. Ylsa relaxed and in the light of the morning sun, Guinevere's nightmare faded. Side-by-side, soft cheeks pressed together, with the dawning of the new day the two women drifted into sleep.

________________________________________________________________________________

A/N- celibacy was not required of catholic priest for a number of years and there were popes, cardinal and bishops that had wives or lover and sometime even fathered illegitimate children.

The story thus far

Gwen is settling into her new life and home in Wyeledon while difficulties befall those she left behind in Camelot. Elyan, believing Gwen, dead carried the engagement ring Arthur had given to her and never reclaimed back to court, laying the blame for her death at Arthur's feet. Meanwhile the enchanted bracelet landed on the wrist of young woman named Sarah Goode and fear gripped the populace of Camelot as domestic stability was replaced with growing chaos.   

________________________________________________________________________

   The Exile

  -Part II, Chapter VIIII

    In the Mourning

"You can't resign Elyan." Merlin said.

              He shrugged off Merlin's hand on his arm uncertain how the two of them came to be in the hall outside the king's chamber. Moments ago he had been glowering down at Arthur and then Merlin was rushing him from the rumor.

              "Why not?"

Arguments and thoughts flitted across the other man's face with humming bird speed before he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

              "Do you truly believe that she is dead?"

              "I don't know," Elyan admitted "but I know she wouldn't give up those things and they were on the body of a bandit."

              He saw the faint glimmer of tears in Merlin's eyes and felt some perverse sense of satisfaction at that.

              "She can't be. It's not right!" He denied.

              "No it's not," the knight whispered.

              "Elyan I'm-" There was a loud crash from the king's chamber. Merlin started in that direction and stopped.

              "Arthur will want to find her."

              "Why? To what end?" He challenged.

              Merlin's mouth worked and there was another crash and a clatter like armor hitting the floor.

              The knight felt a twisted smile spread over his face.

              "Go ahead," He nodded in the direction of Arthur's chambers.  "We both know what you're going to do."

              A look of hurt flashed across Merlin's face and Elyan felt a subtle softening of the malice that had been riding him since he'd found GJ on that bandit's waist. Merlin truly was Gwen's friend.

              "I'll not be swayed in this."

              "El-"

              There was another crash and Elyan took a step backwards.

              "Go." He waved Merlin away with a dismissing hand and started toward his own room. He had packing to do. He could not let rumor carry this information to his aunt and uncle.         

              _______________________________________________________________________

Elyan hurried to his chambers to pack. He wanted out of here before the king recovered himself enough to command him to stay. His quarters were sparsely furnished all of his belonging's had their own place and Elyan gathered them quickly. It took very little time to gather most of his things and he wondered as he packed if he always knew he would not remain in Camelot for long.

"Leaving without saying farewell? What happened to the more responsible and considerate Elyan?"

              He looked up from his packing. Gwaine leaned casually against the door jamb while Percival stood imposing as ever arms cross over his massive chest. He sighed.

              Elyan and Gwaine clasped arms and he and Percival exchanged a true hug. He hadn't seen the giant in weeks. Percival, Gwaine –and before Lancelot and Gwen's indiscretion- the king and Lancelot had all been counted as true friends, no more than that, more like a second family.

              "I don't have a lot of time my aunt and uncle mustn't hear about this sordid business through rumor."

              "Quite right," Gwaine said and Percival merely nodded.

              "Leon's not with you?"

              "He's on patrol." Gwaine supplied that information and made himself comfortable on the bed while Percival took the chair. Elyan continued packing.

              "So you resigned?" Percival asked that question.

              "No," he snorted "the king was in no state to acknowledge it, doesn't matter though I can't linger here." Elyan threw a few more supplies into his bag.

              "And Gwen?" Gwaine looked at him pointedly.

              His grip on the scarlet cape in his hands tightened.

              "No sign, no trace." He balled the cape up and stuffed it into his bag. "I'll carry the news to my aunt and uncle and look for her in Wyeledon."     

              "I'll arrange for a letter to my sister."

              Elyan surveyed his quarters and then his bags. Just three of them and he was done.

              "So this is it my friends."

              "Send news as soon as you have it." Gwaine looked as if he would say more but didn't.

              "Of course."

              "Don't assume the worst Elyan it's as likely that she was robbed and sent on her way as she killed." Percival offered that advice and Elyan knew he should listen.

              Percival was the epitome of the man who gained wisdom by listening much and speaking little.

              "Thanks Percy." The three men exchanged a quick round of farewell hugs and were off.

              Unfortunately for Elyan though he was ready even eager to be back on the road his horse Sheba was not. He'd purchased Sheba from the crown out of his knight's salary. Horses were always on loan to knights but purchasing your own gave a certain amount of freedom. Sheba was a good, lovely mare, strong and tough, a beautiful animal but he'd ridden her hard the past few weeks and now that she had gotten a chance to rest it showed. He could requisition a mount he was still a knight after all but he would have to return a requisitioned mount and he had no intention of returning.

              He'd have to let Sheba rest in the stables for a few days at least. Elyan headed to the scriber's in town. He'd arrange a letter to his aunt and uncle telling them not to believe any rumors they heard over the next few days and that he would see them soon. The scriber knew of a messenger heading that way that very afternoon.

              In the meanwhile he would stay with Padrig's parents. Like him they had left the capitol after Padrig had been burnt at the stake and like him they had returned with Uther's death. They would welcome him as if he were their own.

              ______________________________________________________________________             

"Leave me!"  Arthur's shout carried into the hall and Merlin's ears. Moments later several very disgruntled looking noblemen hurried out of the chamber. Merlin concentrated blurring his presence with magic and dashing past the noblemen and guards to enter. He froze at the tableau in front of him for just a moment before turning and pulling the great oak doors shut. 

              Afternoon sunlight bright and gleaming poured merrily over Arthur, highlighting the moment in fine detail. All of Arthur's paperwork littered the floor like an untidy nest, a dull black streak of wasted ink washed over them. Candles that had sat unburning on the king's writing table were now on the floor, some still rolling, along with their candelabra.  After sweeping the content of the desk to the floor the king must have hurled the sturdy table with great force for it lay on its face halfway across the room. The chair, now on its side had suffered equal abuse. Arthur stood in the center of it, sunlight glinting off his hair. He seemed completely unaware of the chaos around him, his whole attention trained on the ring resting in his palm.

-Gwen's ring.

              "Arthur," Merlin drew in a deep breath for a moment it was easier to do the duty he'd assigned himself then think about the possibility of his friend's death. He took a step forward.

Arthur took two steps toward him blue eyes bright with anger.

"I did not want-" He paused mid-sentence and began pacing wildly direction changing each time he spoke.

 "It wasn't supposed to-"

 Arthur trembled and paced to the window.

 "Why did she-" Arthur's breath came out in a gasp "She can't be-" he leant against the window then and slid to the floor eyes once again on the ring.

              Merlin found himself frozen. He'd helped Arthur through so much but he'd never seen him like this before. The sound started with a groan and grew to a tortured wail so painful that Merlin wanted to block his ears and forget that this was happening. Arthur's grief was not meant for him to witness. But it struck such a fear in him for his friend, for Camelot that Merlin could not possibly turn away. He took a deep breath somehow he would help him.

              "Arthur." Merlin crouched in front of him thinking back briefly to how alone he'd felt when his own father had died, when Freya died. He laid a light hand on the other man's wrist, "You're not alone."

              He looked at him finally, expression so bleak Merlin had to resist flinching away.

              "She can't be-"

              Again Merlin was taken aback. He'd never seen Arthur cry. He did the only thing that made sense in the moment. Merlin put an arm around his friend.     

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              Merlin leant exhausted against the stone wall outside Arthur's chamber. Thanks to Gaius the king now slept the sleep of the drugged. He had been tempted to ask Gaius for a share of the potion for himself but if Gwen she- she couldn't be dead! Merlin fought the desire to break down himself and stumbled along the hall and out into the courtyard. 

 Gwen had been his friend long before Arthur ever cast his gaze in her direction. He'd begged Arthur not to banish her. Only three short months ago that she'd charged Lamia with the cry "Leave him alone!"[1] She could have run from that danger, no one would have thought less of her; it would have been the sensible thing for her to do. Gwen was no knight, no trained warrior…But when it came to it she'd run straight toward the danger for him. She could not be dead. She was too brave; too good…Merlin cloaked his passage through the night dark streets of the middle and lower towns with magic evading sentries and passerby with ease, his footsteps ghosting over the hard packed gravel streets.

               Outside the city walls, hidden by the dark of night he used still more magic to speed his feet across the ground into the deep woods. He ran miles in breathless minutes, magic blurring trees and grassy ground until he came to a wide clearing gasping for breath, stitch pinching his side.  Bent double, breathing deep, hands resting on his knees, Merlin caught his breath. He would not give into the grief that had overwhelmed Arthur, not yet. When his breath no longer came in gasps Merlin raised his head and called Kilgarrah.

Kilgarrah swooped in to land coming down gracefully while Aithusa stumbled and skidded to a halt.

"Is he all right?"

"He's fine." Kilgarrah replied dryly.

The baby dragon looked up dazedly. Kilgarrah chirped something that sounded like it might be encouragement and the baby let out a bleating wark before getting to his tiny feet and waddling to Kilgarrah's side.

 Kilgarrah gave the baby dragon an indulgent smile and nuzzled his brow ridge. Aithusa seemed to be growing well and Merlin felt his spirits buoy for just a moment.

 "Helllo Merlin." The dragon said settling his great wings.

The baby chirped a greeting and Merlin chirped back. Aithusa was good deal larger than when Merlin had called him from the egg.

"Kilgarrah I need your help."

"Straight to the point eh?  Tell me Merlin what has happened?"

Aithusa tucked his white wings along his body and waddled off behind Kilgarrah sniffing at the ground.

"I need your help to find a friend. Gwen was supposed to write from Ealdor, but she has not reached there and some of her things were found on the corpse of a bandit."

"So the future Queen is dead."

Merlin flinched back from the words and a streak of white shot from behind Kilgarrah and crashed into one of the trees ringing the clearing. Merlin winced and Aithusa picked himself up with an angry squall in the direction of the forest.

"Aithusa, do not go into the woods."  Kilgarrah's voice rang with frustration and the baby dragon glared over his shoulder but obeyed walking the perimeter of the clearing instead.

"He's taken to hunting. He's not very good as yet." The dragon explained tone softening on the last few words.

Kilgarrah returned his attention to Merlin expression one of distinct boredom.

"Gwen may yet live," Merlin protested "I need your help."

"My help?" The dragon spoke as if he had no idea to what Merlin referred. Kilgarrah was going to be difficult.

"Yes I need your help finding Gwen."

"And what is it you propose I do?"

Just then Aithusa shot across the clearing, running full tilt at Kilgarrah who seemed to take no notice of the baby's antics. At the last minute the baby dove into a tumble and rolled clear under the great dragon to emerge on the other side with a satisfied high pitched roar.

Kilgarrah took a breath "What do you want me to do Merlin? Ignore him."

"You've offered advice before and you can cover far more ground than I, visit more places than I can."

"Why should I do either of those things Merlin? I'm a parent now and I have to spend my time looking after Aithusa. Merlin are you aware of the fact that you woke us up in the middle of the night? Do you know that it is going to be impossible for to get him to go back to sleep. I can't go traipsing all over Britian looking for one woman no matter who loves her." Aithusa chose that moment to begin gnawing on Kilgarrah's foreleg. "He's teething," the great dragon explained.

Merlin felt the beginnings of a smile the monster that had terrorized Camelot for days didn't seem nearly so fearsome now. Then he remembered Arthur weeping over Gwen's ring

"Kilgarrah Arthur can't function like this he feels responsible." Quickly Merlin told the dragon about Arthur's change in behavior since Elyan brought back Gwen's ring. "He's never broken down like that before."

"Good."

Merlin stared at the dragon. "Good?"

"Yes good. Why he would send away someone he claims to love I'll never understand, must be some bizarre human law. Answer me this Merlin how tall is she?"

"What?"

"Your friend's height, how tall was your friend?"

"Perhaps 5'0."

"Any special fight training or skills?"

"No."

"Natural weapons like claws, fangs or magic?"

"No." Merlin answered glumly.

"Have there ceased to be bandits in the woods of Camelot? Does your nation still have enemies like Morgana?"

"No and yes."

"The success of you humans has always been borne by your ability to meet challenges in a group. Casting one out is nothing more than a commuted death sentence."

"No!" Merlin denied the implications of the dragon's statement, "Arthur didn't want her executed that's why he had her exiled."

At that moment Aithusa pounced on Kilgarrah's head his little white beak clamping onto the dragon's ridge. Kilgarrah's eyes went wide and Merlin swallowed waiting to see what the great dragon would do next. The elder dragon reached up and lifted the offending youngster from his head. He held the baby so that the two of them were eye to eye.

"Sit down and do not move again until I tell you to." The dragon's voice was low and careful Merlin did not think he would disobey if he were Aithusa. He set the youngster on his feet and when Aithusa settled Kilgarrah placed one of his claws on the baby's tail.

"Now where was I?" Kilgarrah looked away a moment a thoughtful expression on his "Ah yes! Do noblewomen go into exile alone and undefended Merlin?"

"No," he answered honestly "they have servants, guards, horses…"

"Hmmm," the dragon made his Merlin you're a dumbass face. "Did you even manage to sneak a protective charm into your friend's belongings Merlin?"

"I did but I don't know what happened it must have failed somehow. I didn't have much time to prepare it."

Kilgarrah took a breath "Merlin I am sorry about your friend but this is not something I can help you with. You're to protect his life not fix his every problem. Not shield him from the emotional sufferings that will make him a better man."

"Very well," Merlin sighed and the dull sadness at the death of a friend throbbed in him. "Do you- do you know if she lives?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me that at least? I won't tell him."

The dragon seemed to consider for a moment.

"I'm sorry Merlin, but I think you must suffer through this too." There was resignation in Kilgarrah's tone.

For a moment Merlin considered bending the dragon to his will. He could do it. He'd done it before.

"I can command you," he said at last.

"You could," the dragon said, "but then you will have lost two friends." Kilgarrah stared at him unblinking until Merlin looked away.

"Heed my advice for once Merlin. Let him suffer through this. If she lives and he finds her he will love her all the more for having suffered this and if she is dead he will value those who remain and any new loves that much more."

For a long moment Merlin was silent. Elyan was surely going to look for Gwen perhaps he could help Elyan instead.

"Very well, answer me this then. If she lived and were in some immediate danger, needed my help would you tell me?"

"Yes."

So she was safe or dead, Merlin felt some sense of relief. Of course the dragon's idea of safe might mean something different than what he would consider safe.

"It is late Merlin. Late me take you back to Camelot or as close to Camelot as I can?"

Merlin nodded numbly.

Kilgarrah chirped to Aithusa who bounded to the older dragon's side. The older dragon crouched so Merlin could mount. It took him a moment to settle himself behind the dragon's neck ridges. Aithusa was already beating his tiny wings and hovering near Kilgarrah's head. The great dragon flapped his wings for several beats, stirring the air around them and then with force of his powerful limbs shot into the air catching current beneath his mighty wings. Merlin muttered a spell to ward of the chill of the heavens and felt his spirits begin to rise.

Aithusa flew alongside them making loops round Kilgarrah that brought a bubble of laughter to Merlin's lips. The older dragon chirped at Aithusa.

"He wants to play, which I normally indulge, but I explained to him that when you're flying with a friend that does not have wings loops and pirouettes are not a good idea."

"Oh." Merlin couldn't help, but grin. Aithusa shot back to them, and hovered at eye height, flying backwards no less. There was more chirping and the baby looked at Merlin a moment before tumbling backwards away from them. Kilgarrah made the sound that passed for dragon laughter and Merlin realized this was still playtime. So as Kilgarrah flew strong and straight Aithusa tumbled, looped, flipped and pirouetted along their path. Always just a bit ahead of them bringing laughter and smiles out of Merlin.

They finally reached the woods just outside of Camelot. Kilgarrah could take him no further. There was no place to land Merlin had dismounted mid-air before. The dragon hovered alongside a tree and Merlin grabbed a thick branch and pulled himself into the tree's branch.

"Merlin I will give you one piece of advice.  Sometime suffering can consume the soul if we do not have the support of our friends and loved ones. Be there for your friend."

He had planned to do so anyway, but Kilgarrah's encouragement strengthened his resolve. Aithusa flew up alongside him and butted his ridged head against Merlin's hand. Without thinking Merlin stroked the youngster's ridges and Aithusa' rewarded him by purring with pleasure. Kligarrah chirped and the white dragon closed his beak gently around Merlin's hand for a moment.

"Be careful Merlin and take care." The two dragons flew away into the night, leaving Merlin to make his way home and suffer alongside his king.

_______________________________________________________________________

The arena, place of so many victories, stood empty now. The noon-day sun beamed down, baking the hard packed sandy ground and heating his neck and shoulders to the point of slight discomfort. He rubbed his left hand against his thigh to ease a dull ache there.  She liked the feeling of the sun soaking into her muscles; he liked standing in the shade of a tree and watching her savor it. Relaxing in the sun was not an activity for the arena.

              He had no armor today only trousers and sandals. On this day they would wrestle like Greeks. That dull ache in his left palm increased and he flexed his fingers in an attempt to ease it.

              He looked toward the royal box. His mother and father were seated there together; somehow this did not surprise him. Uther's gloved hand rested atop Igraine's.  Without looking he knew that the rest of the arena would be empty.

              "Mother."                                         

              He said her name and she frowned disdainfully before turning to his father.

              "He's not ready yet."

              "But they've tricked him." Uther said as if it explained everything. Arthur massaged the ache in his left palm and looked up already knowing who would be there.

              Lancelot stood, dressed as he, in trousers and sandals. The dead man did not look at him though instead he addressed the pair in the box.

              "It matters not, he has to be ready."

              Now the knight faced him and in the winking of any eye Lancelot dropped into a crouch and came at him. They were locking up in a test of strength and he wasn't ready, not grounded. He fought back of course, he'd always fight but Lancelot was faster and stronger than he'd ever been in life.  Arthur gasped for breath; somehow the other man had gotten him into a chokehold.

              He tried to push away, push back, let all of his weight fall on the other man and none of it worked. The knight's position was too solid, too well grounded.

              Lancelot's forearm pressed down on his neck and the edges of his vision began to blur. This was dangerous he should tap-out. He gasped for air and Lancelot's arm pressed down harder. His eyes watered and all was a-blur now, the stink of sweat stung his nostrils and the heat of the sun beat down hot and hard.

              "I thought you were smarter than this." Lancelot was taunting him? "I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."-

Arthur felt his struggles growing weaker.

"I gave up my life for you-"

He tried to lift his hand, tap out but found it heavy.

"-you were smarter than this."

His life was draining away.

- The arena place of so many victories stood empty now noon-day sun baking the hard packed sandy ground heating his neck and shoulders to the point of slight discomfort. He rubbed his left hand against his thigh to ease a dull ache there. She liked the feeling of the sun soaking into her muscles; he liked standing in the shade of a tree and watching her savor it. Relaxing in the sun was not an activity for the arena.

He was here again without armor. He looked to the royal box and saw his parents.

"He's not ready yet."

              "But they've tricked him." Uther said as if it explained everything. Arthur massaged the ache in his left palm and looked up already knowing who would be there.

              Lancelot stood, dressed as he, in trousers and sandals. The dead man did not look at him though instead he addressed the pair in the box.

              "It matters not, he has to be ready." Lancelot came at him and it happened just as before:

              "I thought you were smarter than this." Lancelot was taunting him? "I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."

              Arthur forced himself awake already knowing the outcome       

              "I thought you were smarter than this." Arthur opened his eyes, "I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."-

              Lancelot's words echoed in his mind and then memory surged. He opened his eyes and saw familiar canopy of his bed arching above him.

              Guinevere's ring on a cord of leather landing on his desk, like challenge.

              "You killed my sister," surely a nightmare, surely.

              His left hand ached.

              He looked down and the silvery moonlight showed his left hand clenched into a fist resting atop the bedding. A telltale leather cord escaped his grasp, black and stark against the creamy white bedsheets. His mouth was suddenly dry. Guinevere's ring would not be there or- if it were this was surely another dream. He flexed his tense, stiff fingers and uncurled them with agonizing slowness, waiting, waiting…

              "You killed my sister."

              The ring lay in a bloody red circle on his white palm.

              "No," the tears came hot and fast then "nononono,"  he sat up bringing his hands to his face for a moment before hurling the ring across the room, rejecting this new reality, this new world. He heard it land with a dull clank on the stone floor. She could not be dead. Arthur got out of bed and hurried to where he thought the ring might have landed.

              He needed it, needed to keep it, needed it to give back to her if she ever wanted again, just in case. He didn't see it right away and felt panic surge souring his stomach and raising sweat on his palms. Where? He had thrown her away again. He crouched, coming down hard on his knees, to look under the wardrobe. Silver moonlight glinted from it and Arthur reached for the ring, he needed it- The moon ducked behind a cloud and he groped blindly for a moment before his fingers encountered the warm resistant metal.

              Guinevere's ring, his mother's ring- gift of the dead. He closed his fingers around it and sat up breathing deep, weak with relief.                

              Lancelot, his father, his mother, all the dead that he loved together, all but Guinevere, because…? Because she wasn't dead! He looked at the ring resting in his palm.

              "Guinevere," Arthur said her name softly, recalled sliding the ring onto her delicate brown finger, "Guinevere," he said it again and again, like a prayer, a litany caressing the ring with the fingertips of his right hand until a cold dull ache settled into his thighs and buttocks from their contact with the stone floor.  He used the wardrobe to pull himself to his feet and leaned briefly against it. He couldn't go carrying it around, it wasn't safe. He needed something other this leather thong.

              Arthur opened his wardrobe; he had a simple silver chain amongst his jewelry. He found the chain quickly and very carefully untied the leather cord and replaced it. With a satisfied sigh he settled the chain around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to the ring before letting it settle against the bare skin of his chest.

              "Guinevere."

              The leather cord was worn and rough but he had to keep that too, keep it safe. It might be the last thing she gave him.

              He had pushed the carved oaken box to the back of the wardrobe but of course it was still there. He pulled it forward now, throat and chest growing tight at the memory of her tricking him into buying his own present. He thought briefly of the little things she'd made for him, filling it and making it far more valuable with gifts of love, a pair of knitted socks, a pair of gloves, a belt and a bottle of woodsy cologne all made by her own hand, strawberry jam his favorite. They were not in there now of course. The jam had long since been eaten and accessories were all safely put away.

He opened it intending only to place the cord with his other treasures but then the heady scent of her perfume floated up to him and he inhaled deeply. Arthur let his eyes drift shut. He could imagine her footfalls soft, rhythmic and steady on the floor behind him; she would say his name undoing him with two syllables. He'd turn and she'd be standing there, not in one of her new dresses –he liked them well enough-, but in her old dress the one she'd been wearing the morning he'd kissed her for that first, fatal time. That simple soft linen dress flowing over her creamy brown skin, the bodice embroidered with flowers and peacock. It had that tempting teasing ruffle edging along the neckline taunting him to run one finger along the swell of her breast. She was perfect in that simple dress.

Arthur swallowed the sob in his throat and reached into the box pulling forth the token she'd given him that morning, the gift that had prompted that impetuous kiss.  

It had absorbed the scent of her perfume and he lifted it to his nose. Arthur closed the box and took it from the wardrobe where it had sat untouched these last ten weeks, seventy-three days to be exact. He carried the small chest to the table and sat down. The box was now the guardian of her most treasured gifts, things of value to none but himself. He laid the simple token on the table, smoothing the white linen fabric against the gleaming darker wood. From the box he took two roses –now dried- one purple, one red tied together with a ribbon, him and her, her love given to him freely. Arthur placed them carefully atop the linen and turned back to the box. He pulled a folded piece of paper that he could not now bring himself to read forth, another tournament, another token, the braided leather belt that she'd fastened round his waist herself after the pants incident. He stroked the stem of the purple rose and finally lifted out the gift he'd never gotten to give her.

Shortly after their betrothal someone had given Guinevere a silver bracelet. He'd been immediately jealous. Who was giving her jewelry and why? He'd almost insisted that she discard it, but then he though the better of it. It was probably a congratulatory gift, one that would be rude to refuse. No, he had a better plan. A silver cuff bracelet with Pendragon rubies would adorn her arm-far, far better. It was to have been given on their wedding night with a necklace and earrings to follow as customary gifts for the birth of their first son.

Was everything he'd given her now in the possession of bandits? The sliver handled, boar hair bristled brush with comb and matching hand mirror, the setting sun hair clip, the new dresses for which he had purchased the material, the silk stockings he'd fantasized about sliding off her thighs a thousand times, was it all being pawed over by bandits and greedy merchants? What of Guinevere herself? The ring was only a thing, maybe…

Was Elyan right or had she gotten safely away? He could see it now, strange savage men laying rough hands on her. She would resist but…

She didn't like to be alone in the woods.

"You've got me,"[2] "I wasn't going to let anything happen to you."[3]

He sobbed no longer able to hold it back and the tears followed…He had failed her and it didn't matter that she had betrayed him because she was horribly, violently dead and he had sent her to it. Amidst the remnants of his canceled love, bathed in the pale light of the moon Arthur let his grief flow over him.

The Exile

Part II

Chapter X, Respite

"Gaius?" Merlin spoke softly hoping the old man might wake but not truly wanting to wake him. When the old man did not wake at his gentle prodding, Merlin sighed and went to his collection of magic books. After Agravaine had questioned Gaius on suspicion of treachery, Merlin had taken magical measures to hide his forbidden books. The warlock lifted his eyes to the ceiling. With a few simple words it opened, dropping the tomes into his waiting hands.

              Walking back to the citadel had given Merlin time to think. Arthur could search all of Britannia for Gwen and miss her a thousand times over but magic might find her where all else failed. There were means of scrying and seeing in his books, now was the time to make use of them.

              Merlin shut the door to his little room and with a few quick words the candles flared to life. There was always cleaning needing to be done in his room and today was no exception. Laundry littered on the floor, papers, medical logs…he spent so much time cleaning up after Arthur. The young man cleared a space on his bed and sat down with his back against the dull plaster wall and began reading. He found the information he wanted easily enough. Merlin smiled he had recalled correctly

              He was considering two options. Dowsing to find her and seeing to discover the outcome of her encounter with the bandit or bandits.

Seeing unfortunately was not like spellcasting or the magic he could do with just a thought. Visions could only be summoned by meditating. Some methods included the use of various tools such as bones, tea leaves, fire reading, tarot cards, the flight of birds, the list went on. Unfortunately none guaranteed a clear vision to a non-seer. Dowsing was more precise. It could be done with a crystal; the steps were very specific. He would know immediately if he were doing it properly.

When dowsing a sorcerer or sorceress selected a crystal and bonded with it. Once bonded with the crystal they concentrated on the person or thing they wished to find. If a map could be used the crystal would point to a location on the map indicating the presence of the lost person or item. If the area being searched was too small for the use of a map, the crystal could be asked to point in the necessary direction.

              Merlin weighed his choices. Kilgarrah had assured him that Gwen was either safe or… He did not want to come unknowingly to her gravesite. So while he might want to find her immediately, he knew he must first summon a vision to learn what had been the result of her encounter with the bandit or bandits.

              A powerful sorcerer -and he was one- could call a vision simply by meditating upon that which they wished to see. This method was recommended as there was little room for misinterpretation. Merlin placed his pillow on the floor and sat on it tailor's style, facing the east. Merlin took a deep breath filling his lungs and chest before releasing it slowly. He concentrated for a time on his breath and slowly began to build the image of Gwen in his mind as he'd seen her last.

              Purple cape belted at the waist, dark curls lose about her shoulders, expression full of sorrow, and weariness as she walked from Camelot alone and defeated. His heart constricted at the memory and Merlin forced himself to concentrate on her as she looked at him over her shoulder. No sooner had he created the image then he thought of The Shade and then Morgana. How for the first time he truly hated her and how he regretted not taking one of his many opportunities to kill her. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be focusing on Gwen and scolded himself for letting his mind wander to The Shade and Morgana.

              He couldn't let his hatred of Morgana or his grief for Gwen distract him. He needed to find her. Arthur needed to know Gwen was alive.

              He saw in his mind's eye Arthur sitting on the floor, eyes glued to Gwen's ring and crying the most broken, sorrowful sound he'd ever heard. He should have killed Morgana when he had the chance. Gwen would be here right now if he had.

              Merlin groaned aloud and opened his eyes.

              What had the book called the mind, the chattering monkey? Merlin told his chattering monkey to shut-up and began again with the candle flame and the chant. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.

          _________________________________________________________________________

Arthur woke, hard edge of the table pressed against his cheek. Merlin stood over him. His usually cheerful face frowned down at him, pale rather than flushed with life and color. Dark circles under his eyes gave him a ghoulish cast.

"Morning, here's your breakfast," the manservant held the tray expectantly.

"Morning," Arthur's voice came out gravely and hoarse.

Merlin nodded toward the keepsakes spread over the surface of the table. "Shall I-"

"No!" it came out it as a sharp, panicked command.

Merlin rocked backwards, a look of surprised confusion on his face.

 Arthur ignored him and quickly gathered his treasures, hiding them safely from the sight of the world including the leather cord that Gwen had worn the ring on.

"Merlin has Sir Elyan departed?"

"His horse is still here but his quarters have been cleared out."

"Find out if he's requested another mount." 

"Yes sire."

He needed to do something for Elyan. Do something about Tom's unjust death. Why he hadn't done anything sooner… Merlin sat a rather perfect looking breakfast tray on the table.

"Sir Leon can take over drills this morning."Merlin said, "I've got pages ready with messages to carry to the councilors canceling council for the duration and-"

"-Everything will go on as usual Merlin. My men need training and my kingdom needs me to run it." Arthur rinsed his mouth and chewed the cloves Merlin had provided to clean his breath and teeth before starting his meal.

"You can't pretend that you're unaffected by this," Merlin countered "You love Gwen-"

"That's enough Merlin." He clenched his hands into fist "Get me the flood reports for Waymet; I'll review them as I eat breakfast."

"She loved you-"

"I said enough." He turned to look at the other man, "What am I supposed to do declare a year of mourning for a woman that many people would happily see dead? I'm too early in my kingship. I want the flood reports on Waymet Merlin now."

A moment later Merlin sat a sheaf of paper s on the table. Arthur studied his breakfast plate, it was beautiful, like something George would have put together. He heard the whooshing sound of drapes being drawn and cheerful sunlight flooded the room. Arthur popped a grape into his mouth. It was time to get some work done.  Unfortunately his beautiful breakfast had no taste.

________________________________________________________________________

He gripped the edge of the table and stared down at the wood grain trying desperately to breath. Arthur found himself in council with his grief coming on him from nowhere it seemed; sorrow pulling at him like an undertow.

"Sire are you well?" Was that Lord Troy's voice?

He didn't look up, "We're done." His voice was husky and a part of him wondered if they knew why. He thought he would be fine.

He didn't see the councilors shooting worried looks at one and other or Merlin's hands clutched tightly around a sheaf of papers.

"Sire?" It was Lord Gildas now and his tone betrayed confusion.

"We're done, now, leave all of you. You too Merlin."

Arthur hears the scrape of wooden chairs against the floor.

"But sire?" Merlin objects.

 There is the rustle of robes, confused murmurs and feet moving in the direction of the door. The pain surged, swelling like the tide and Arthur clenched his hands together, willing himself to remain calm.

"You, too, Merlin." he says each word slowly and carefully without raising his head.

He hears the door is shutting as his head drops to the table.

____________________________________________________________________

Gwaine was feeling downright responsible and he didn't like it one bit. Instead of spending his free time drinking, flirting and bedding available wenches, he was chasing after Arthur, Elyan and Merlin, making certain that they were well and that none of them did anything foolish.

              He didn't take Gwen's possible death lightly. He just- his friend's needed him. He did feel terribly guilty though. What had he been thinking to let her go off alone with just a letter and some funds? Certainly she should have been safe if she stuck to the roads and villages but things rarely went according to plan.

              They were in Gaius' chambers. Worried about Arthur and feeling out of his depth, Merlin had asked for their help suddenly. Something he had not done in a long while. He, Percival and Gaius sat at the table. Merlin stood arms crossed leaning against the wall looking desperately unhappy. There was a time when he had thought that he and Merlin were friends, now Gwaine was not so sure.

              "Gwaine! Did you hear what I said?" Merlin's tone was waspish.

              "Yes, third council meeting cut short this week."

              "People are starting to talk." Merlin grumbled.

              Percival grunted and pushed back from the table, thinking.

 Gwaine let his eyes travel over the collection of tubes, bottles, sticks, papers, straw, stones, masks and the seemingly endless clutter that covered every surface of Gaius' room.              

              "Grief takes time and we may yet get some news of Gwen." Gaius said and Gwaine frowned. This was far more of an optimistic Gaius than he was used to.

              "It's creeping up on him," the knight said at last and Percival nodded.

              "Creeping up on him?"

              "Yes. Arthur's a strictly disciplined and responsible man but his feelings run quite deep. Uther was a bully, only his feelings about things mattered. So Arthur learned to set his feelings aside," Gwaine frowned."He does this now without being aware of it. But that takes a certain type of concentration whether he knows it or not." Merlin was listening attentively now "Drills, training doesn't really require a lot of his attention so he can focus on keeping it all together but the council meetings need concentration, focus. Once his attention is diverted he's not concentrating on holding his grief down so it creeps up on him. He probably sits in there and broods for hours."

              "So what do we do?" Merlin said at last and all eyes went to Gwaine.

He hated being responsible.

              Gwaine took a deep breath. "I'll talk to him."

              Merlin leaned forward quizzically.

              "Trust me; I know exactly what to say. Can you make sure he is in his room by himself after dinner Merlin?"

              He nodded.

              _____________________________________________________________________

Gwaine went first to the kitchens for a wineskin and goblets. He'd been weighing this since Elyan had laid the blame for Gwen's apparent death at Arthur's feet. They did not yet know one way or another, what had become of Gwen but he knew precisely what Arthur felt. Sometimes the ear of experience…He wished some letter, some word would come from Adras.

He knocked on Arthur's door.

"Enter," Gwaine took a deep breath and pushed the oak doors open. Arthur was sitting at the table where he sometimes conducted less formal audiences. He wasn't often in the king's quarters. Usually he saw Arthur on the training fields, in the training hall or the dining hall where they often took meals in a group. He surveyed the rooms for a moment.  They were neither Spartan nor ostentatious, the few pieces of furniture pleasing to the eye without being distracting. A few shields and banners decorated the walls, proclaiming the history of the king's family and their successes.

"Sire," he bowed.

"Come have a seat."

Gwaine sat down and poured himself and the king a gobletful of wine. He moistened his lips suddenly nervous waiting for Arthur to drink first. When the king merely nodded in his direction Gwaine lifted the goblet to his lips and finished it in one go. Fear gripped him and he poured himself another goblet of wine.

 He leant against the ornately carved wooden splat of his chair a moment before leaning forward.

"You wanted to talk to me about something." Arthur prompted eyes narrowed, tone heavy with impatience.

Gwaine traced the rim of his goblet with one finger.

"I've never told anyone this story but" he found suddenly that he wanted to. He drew in a breath and let it out "I think perhaps it is time I do so."

Arthur's brows knitted together in a frown and Gwaine took that as a queue to begin.

"I loved a woman. I wasn't supposed to but I did." For a moment his eyes slid over the carved edge of the table. "She was a friend of mine and wanted a child desperately. Her uh- spouse couldn't give her one so they begged me to do so instead."

Arthur leaned forward and Gwaine knew he had the king's undivided attention.

 "I refused at first but their want for a child weighed on them and eventually I gave in. It took a while, months actually and she was sweet, kind and pretty. Of course I came to love her but she did not bear the same love for me."

              He took a deep breath and closed shaking hands about the stem of the goblet.

              "They were both very happy when she finally conceived. I felt guilty of course and it hurt knowing that she did not have the same feelings for me that I had for her. But seeing their joy, I felt that I had done the right thing. Eight days after the boy was born she died of childbed fever." He finished the second glass of wine and finally looked at Arthur. The king's expression was closed and Gwaine worried suddenly. He rubbed sweaty palms on his trousers and spoke quickly.

"So I didn't want to oblige them in the first place, I loved her and I wasn't suppose too and I wanted her to me love the way that I loved her even though I knew better. Shit I still love her and finally, I feel that I killed her. And I also felt that I had no right to mourn her, she was never mine to love in the first place. All that is to say I know exactly how it is that you are suffering." He meet and held the other man's sea blue eyes then "Give yourself a respite. Say you are ill or some such and talk to Merlin or me when you need to." Gwaine drained a third glass of wine.

              "Did you give yourself a break?" The king questioned at last and Gwaine sighed.

              "Me?" he snorted "I hired out my sword and rode all over Britain drinking, wenching and picking fights. True fact, losing your true love is the best way to pull women."

              "Oh." Arthur said weakly.

              The hum of the cicadas reached their ears and the summer breeze stirred the drapes. Arthur took a sip of his wine, finally.

"At least you have a son."

              "My son is with the person that wanted him." Gwaine took a deep swallow from his wine glass "At least she loved you."

________________________________________________________________________

Three days after laying the blame for his sister's death at the king's feet Elyan son of Thomas rode out of Camelot. Merlin had come to see him again, as had Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Bedivere and Kay. Before leaving he had paid a visit to long time friends Enid and Daffyd.

Enid told him some wild story about Gwen having been tricked into her affair by the nobles offended by Arthur's choosing to marry a commoner. He gave her a hug and thanked her for her loyalty. She agreed to take care of the house for him. He visited the cemetery to pray for his mother, father and Padrig and beg his ancestor's forgiveness for his poor choices. Then he rode out of the citadel certain he would never return.

_________________________________________________________________________

Arthur canceled a month of summer's council meetings. If need be, they would go a month into the fall. Gwaine was right, he needed respite.  The councilors could return to their homes for a month or take in the hospitality of Camelot if they liked. He still drilled the knights in the mornings and then had a few private audiences in the afternoon and met with a councilor if necessary.  He considered recalling his uncle. The man could be useful but the thought of Agravaine lit a certain rage in him that he could not shake no matter how unfair it maybe.

"The messengers have gone out with her description." Merlin said.

He pushed away from his work table and walked to the window overlooking the courtyard.

"They understand their instructions?" Arthur watched their horses move out.

"Yes, find her but do not engage, report back to you."

"Exactly."

"What'll you do if you find her?" Merlin asked.

"I… I don't know." Arthur admitted. He wanted to bring her back but… "Merlin there is something else I've been considering." He faced his friend. "Would you like to bring your mother here?"

The manservant stared at him.

"Here?"

"Yes, would you like her closer? I can't promise you she'll be safer, but maybe…"  He fiddled with Guinevere's ring, uncomfortable with Merlin's shocked expression. It implied that being considerate of his friend was something so far from normal… He needed to be more considerate. He had thought it enough to give commoners and nobles the same treatment, same respect.

"I-I don't know. I'd like to have her close, but she may not want to leave her home."

"Of course. Very well, ask her and make sure she knows that the offer stands.  Whenever she happens to come we will find a place for her here."

"I will," Merlin grinned at him and Arthur felt something akin to humor stirring inside.

"Arthur did you hear the story about-"

Merlin was trying to cheer him up and a part of Arthur was grateful, but- Ever since Elyan had returned with Guinevere's ring…

"You killed my sister." The swell pounded the shore-

Merlin was being the perfect manservant, breakfast was always timely, his clothing was clean and wrinkle free, and he did almost everything Arthur ordered without the usual back talk. And it was all a waste. Arthur ate little and only left his quarters to train the knights.

"so the bartender says-"

"I'm exhausted Merlin."

"Yeah…How'd you know?"

"Merlin," he spoke more forcefully "I'm feeling rather tired. Let's finish up so that I may retire soon."

"Oh. Yeah, right of course."

Arthur saw Merlin's disappointment but had no words for him. He couldn't be the person that Merlin was looking for, not right now.

"I recommend you meet with the mason's guild head. Morgana is still out there and they have some ideas about reinforcing the battlements. And you'll need to see Lord Gildas tomorrow and the Duke of Cornwall."

Arthur rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was meet with the Duke of Cornwall but the man was too powerful to ignore.

"Very well, please extend Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival the same offer I gave you regarding their family."

"Yes, sire." Then less formally, "Thank you Arthur."

"You're welcome. That's all Merlin."

For a moment Merlin looked as if he might say something more, but then he bowed and left.

Arthur started to pace, the shadowy sea of grief and pain swelling around him.

Why had Guinevere betrayed him? If she hadn't they could have been married already. They could be happy right now except, perhaps she wouldn't have been happy. Perhaps she didn't really love him; she'd only said it that one time. Rage surged in him then.  Arthur kicked over his armor stand.

'She loved you.' She'd said it to him in so many words more than once and she'd shown him as well. Guinevere was a woman of action, she had deftness with words, but when something was important to her she acted. She'd begged Lancelot to look after him[1]  when she thought he was going to cross the veil, and she'd looked after his father, whom she loathed, for love of him…

Arthur sank into the chair that he'd had positioned by the window, first his father and now Guinevere. Was it his fate to always suffer so?

No, not his fate. He knew that Gaius believed the old sorcerer wanted to help but Arthur could not fully accept that. His choices had ultimately killed his father and perhaps his actions had driven Guinevere into the arms of another man and then to her death.

"You're inappropriate." [2]

He could only imagine how that must have hurt her. Maybe then she started to reconsider her choice. How could he have been so foolish? After promising her for years that things would be different when he was king he had failed at his first chance to prove his promise. He hadn't suddenly discovered that there were people who would disprove her rank or lack thereof; he'd simply turned yellow for a moment. It wasn't fair to place that burden on her. For a moment he wondered idly how his mother might have advised him.  

Arthur walked to the window. It was full dark now. He pulled on a clean tunic, trousers, boots and his plain blue cape. He was tired, but he could not sleep here.

There were ways out of the palace where no one need ever see him; tunnels that led directly from his rooms and into the lower town. These were on neither map nor the palace plans. Uther had forced him to memorize them when he was ten years of age.

He pushed, 1,2,3 nondescript stones in the wall and smiled as the corner opened to reveal a hidden tunnel. He maintained it himself keeping the door hinges oiled and the tunnel dust free. Just inside the door he had torches, oil-soaked rags and flint. But he ignored these; Arthur knew the way in the dark. He pushed another stone on the inside and the door swung shut with a gentle thud. Arthur counted his steps as he went, peeking here and there into the halls of the palace before he left it behind descending into the damp earth. The king came at last to an exit in the middle town. He dodged the patrols and kept to the shadows, making his way to Guinevere's home. This was not the first night he'd done so. He felt pitiful doing it, but couldn't stop himself.

He looked right and left making certain the streets were empty before slipping into her cottage.

Arthur felt his way in the dark to sit on the bed, wooden floorboards creaking under foot, mind racing back to the times he'd visited her here. The tournament of course, that evening he'd talked to her about knife throwing and kissed her in what had once been her father's work room.[3] The evening she had made him dinner and they'd sat up all night talking and- He felt hands begin to shake and he pulled her ring from where it lay against his chest. He studied it in faint sliver of light granted by the waning moon.

Why had she said yes, if she meant no? He would have accepted her rejection if she felt uncertain. He would have been miserable and broken and perhaps selfishly he might have fired her but she would be alive, safe, here… 

He reached for her purple cloak, the thing that brought him here night after and wrapped it round his shoulders. Her tiny bed once decreed torture to sleep in still had its same bedding and Arthur laid his head on Guinevere's straw filled pillow. Her scent -lavender, vanilla, honeysuckle- clung to the bedding and her cloak.

"Please be alive." He whispered it into the darkness.

 Wrapped thus in her scent, Arthur let his eyes drift shut. Sleeping where she'd slept so many times before, he could tell himself that she yet lived and sleep without nightmares.

Things continued thus for some time. He spent the hours of the day avoiding the court and his subjects, hiding behind weariness. Occasionally he let Merlin convince him to show himself to the people. He received visits from a few councilors, but kept to himself more often than not. He thought often of Guinevere, but also his father, his mother and sometimes even Morgana. He could not sleep in Guinevere's house every night, but he did so thrice weekly. Then one night the unthinkable happened. He slipped into her cottage and found the bedding along with her purple cloak had been removed. Elyan was the owner of the property he might have removed Gwen's things but Elyan was gone. He cried over this and hated himself for it, but it was like losing her all over again.

When this new grief momentarily abated he stumbled out of her home. It held no comfort for him now. He ducked into the shadows between buildings and crouched at the sound of a patrol, his mourning was no one's business. Arthur remained crouched and desolate long after the patrol had passed. And that was how he came to hear it, a scream and then shouting. Unready to return to the palace Arthur hurried in the direction the shouts had come from, past a few houses to a tiny cottage not much larger than Guinevere's. He went to the door of the cottage but hesitated. It could just be a personal quarrel. There was a thud and the sound of pottery breaking.

A blood curdling scream rent the peace of the night and all hesitation was lost. Arthur kicked the door and threw himself against it twice before breaking it open and stumbling into a crime scene.  The cottage was dark. The light of a few lamps cast shadows over everything. Overturned furniture littered the one room home. A young blonde woman lay naked and unconscious on the bed covered only partially by a sheet. Two men grappled on the wood plank floor. One dark-haired and fully clothed, Arthur recognized him as an employee from the palace, a man by the name of Rolfe. The second man was fully nude and vaguely familiar.

Fighting was certainly not illegal but if the woman was hurt she needed help not two fools rolling around on the floor.

"Break it up." Arthur commanded. Rolfe still in his servant's livery put his fingers round the other man's neck. Fighting wasn't illegal but murder was.

"I'll snap your neck John."

Arthur grabbed Rolfe by his shoulders and pulled. The other man came away far more easily than expected and they both stumbled backwards the servant's weight dragging him down.

"Rolfe?" A moment later the most foul stench filled the room. Arthur recognized it immediately the scent of intestines being opened. Frowning he brought one hand to his nose and looked down to see Rolfe's blood and guts spilling over both of them. He didn't need to check his pulse to know that the other man was dead.

Arthur looked at the murderer, John. The other man seemed to be weighing his next actions, knife held fast in his fist.

"Do you not recognize your king?" He demanded angrily.

John studied him for a moment and dropped he knife. Arthur eased the servant's body to the ground. He took a deep breath and pulled himself to his feet; mind already guessing at what he had walked into. He vaguely recalled something about Rolfe being recently married, to a Susan- no Sarah! He looked down at the young woman, the events of the evening clear to him.

"You're under arrest for murder, fighting in the presence of the king and adultery."

John backed away. That surging tide of grief swelled high with sudden anger as Arthur advanced on him.

The Exile

Part II, Chapter XI

Her Own Woman

This chapter was fun for me to write I got to put in some fun things and do stuff I'd been wanting to do with The Exile for a while. I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to comment.

The story thus far, Guinevere has a new home and a new name but security and employment elude her as she is pressed to choose survival over happiness. Will Gwen do what she feels it is best to do in heart or will she do as she has often done and make the smart choice?

The rear of Madame Santiago's dress shop bustled with activity. Four women in various stages of undress were being fitted for gowns or other items. Madame's employees, also women, wearing simple kirtles with apron's and linen caps, worked on gowns or linings in various stages of completion. She'd seen a number of workshops in the past week. Many of them were strewn with notions, scraps of fabric everywhere. Not Madame Santiago's. Madame's shop had four neat and orderly workstations, each with its own dress form, rack for fabric, shelves for notions such as thread, cord, buttons, hooks etc…The bright scents of sage and rosemary were in the air. Guinevere sniffed deeply and felt herself smiling.

              "You approve?" the voice startled her and Guinevere turned to face an older Galician woman standing in the doorway of study, expression smug, hand on hip. Like the other women she wore a kirtle and apron but hers was of a finer quality and richer color and her dark hair was loose about her shoulders.

              "Madame Santiago?"

              "Yes." The woman inclined her head slightly "You approve of my shop?"

              "Oh yes." Gwen smiled. "It is clean and orderly surely a pleasant and productive work place."

              "Precisely Ms. Jen," Madame paused. "Please step into my office."        

              The older woman's office had its own work station much like that of the younger women. However, Madame also had a desk, bookcase and fireplace. Unlike her employees Madame had a door that she could shut for privacy, she did so now.

              "Please have a seat Ms."

              "Thank you." Guinevere took the simple wooden chair that faced the desk.

              "So Ms. Jenafere you are not from Wyeledon?"

              "No ma'am. I am from Camelot."

              Madame frowned.

              "It is a small kingdom west of Cenred's lands and bordered on the north by Caerleon."

              "I know something of Cenred's lands. He had some small war a few years back."

              "Yes ma'am."

              "Ahh. How long have you been in Wyeledon?"

              "Four weeks."

              Madame nodded. "Wyeledon is a city of travelers, immigrants and visitors. What languages do you speak?"

              "My native tongue is Welsh, Latin of course, I also speak the language of the Francs and Anglos and I am learning Galician."

              "Very good. Is it in vain to hope that you can read and write?"

              "No ma'am. I have learnt to read very well and I can write a legible hand."

              "So this outfit you are wearing, is it your own work?"

              "Yes ma'am."  The outfit was dress and surcoat of rich murrey red. Under the surcoat she wore a white bodice she had embroidered with flowers and birds in gold, green and pink. She'd trimmed the surcoat with the same pattern as the bodice only smaller. She hoped the outfit impressed the older woman. She had gotten both compliments and envious looks on the street.

              "May I?" The older woman held out her hands. Guinevere slipped off the surcoat and handed it to Madame. Madame Santiago studied the stitching, embroidery and structure of the piece.

              "This is well made and well fitted. Will you stand for a moment?"

              Guinevere did as the woman requested and waited patiently while the other woman compared the embroidery on the two garments.

              "Very consistent," Madame gave Guinevere back the surcoat and she slipped it on.

              "Finish this flower."

Madame produced a kerchief that she or some had been embroidering. Guinevere took and picked up where the older woman left off. She'd been taking similar tests all week. She hadn't worked very long when Madame interrupted her.

              "You are clearly quite talented Ms. Jenafere. As long as your references are in order, I may well have a place for you here."

              Gwen did not feel her shoulders rise, but she did feel a tingling pain in the back of her head.

              "Come, it is evident that you have worked in a great house before and you seem a sensible girl. Unless you were dismissed for some scandal or shame then you should have them."

              "I had them." She spoke softly now all the vigor she'd had suddenly gone. "They were ruined during my travels."

              Madame sat up and back then. The face that had been so friendly only a moment ago grew cool and shuddered.

              'Scandal, shame, to return to Camelot is on pain of death.'

              "Well you are a talented girl, but without references- I shall think on it. Return in three day's time." She rose as Madame did, face hot with shame. Not for the first time did Guinevere thank god for the coloring that hid the rush of blood to the cheeks.

              "I see. Thank you for taking the time to see me Madame. I hope that you will give me all due consideration as I should very much look forward to working in your beautiful shop." Then Guinevere turned and walked stiffly out of the shop.

              Gwen stepped into the late afternoon sun and found Tony waiting for her right on time. Father Flaeger had arranged for Tony to serve as her guide. He came from a peasant family. His mother, who was ill, could no longer work so the child took odd jobs.

              "How'd it go?"

              "Same as always, they like me, they want to see my references and when they can't I get "we'll think about it"." She sighed.

              "I'm sorry Ms. Jen but why not write home for more?" His dark face was quizzical

              She frowned; she'd been considering that herself.

              "Far more easily said than done Tony," Gwen sighed "Paper is not inexpensive, I have to find someone going not just to Camelot but the capital and they have to give the letters to the people who wrote the original references. Then I still have to wait for the new references to be brought here. It is an expensive proposition."

              "I spose'." The boy looked at her doubtfully.

              "What about you? How did you do today?"

              Tony smiled proudly "I earned four coppers while you were having your interviews."      

              "That’s great." Gwen felt a twinge of selfish envy and reluctantly paid the boy a copper for his work.         

              Gwen kept herself busy working on her wardrobe and helping Luisa, the housekeeper with chores when she needed a change of pace. Sometimes she helped weed the backyard vegetable garden, other times she helped Luisa prepare the evening meal; anything to keep her mind from her worries. The job with Adras could not start soon enough.

A gentle summer breeze stirred the parlor drapes making the room cool and comfortable. Gwen pressed her bare feet against the cool green and white floor tiles. The upstairs parlor was far too warm to enjoy right now and she wondered how comfortable the second floor rooms would be at the height of summer. Ms. Alfonsa did not have a flat roof that one might sleep on.

"You and Adras are going out tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," Gwen replied as she smoothed the thread before pushing it through the eye of the needle."You should come with us."

Synove's brow creased in the way it often did, but Guinevere had yet to figure out what it meant.

"I should accompany the two of you?"

"Adras needs fabric and you know the market very well."

"Jen I know you need references but Adras? What are going to make for her, pants? If you're going to be making gowns for women I don't understand how that could possibly help."

It was Gwen's turn to frown, "It will demonstrate my skills and work ethic."

"Perhaps, but you'd do better with some more conventional clients I think. Perhaps Mrs. Cerridwyn or Mrs. Ashdown or one of their friends needs new dresses. I'll ask around."

Gwen reinforced the last stitch in the hem of the powder blue russet dress she was working on and stood up. She pulled the dress over her head and smoothed it into place thinking over Synove's words. The dress was designed to fit comfortably over a chemise, stays and kirtle but she'd also wanted to wear it during the summer without the kirtle at least.

"Adras's behavior simply does not trouble me."

"Yes I can see that," the other woman replied dryly and Guinevere ignored her.

"Help me with these laces," She'd added lacing on either side of the dress just below the arms. The ribbons were both practical and decorative. They'd allow the dress to be tightened and loosed without being refitted, which would ideally make it work without a kirtle. Synove tied one side while she did the other.

"Well, look at that," Synove said as they faced the metal mirror Ms. Alfonsa had loaned her."I think it works."

 The bodice of the dress was fitting smoothly, the powder blue was bright against her honey brown skin and the embroidered ribbons were pretty darned cute. Gwen smiled. She needed to go flower picking; some dried flowers would look nice in her hair. She didn’t need fancy metal clasps.

She faced the other woman then. "What do you think about the neckline, lower?"

Synove grinned and her brown eyes twinkled mischievously "Much lower and you should widen the neckline too. Show just a bit of shoulder and display that lovely collarbone oh and do you have any of that ribbon left?"

Gwen nodded.

"You should make it into a trim for the neckline."

She smiled "I think you're right."

Gwen undid the ribbons and pulled the dress over her head.

"Now about the market, is there nothing I can say that will convince you to accompany? You know the market so well."

Synove started to speak but paused "I had better not come with you; I do have some work to do. However I can tell you who will give you best prices and more importantly what to say to them"

Gwen considered for a moment before nodding in agreement. It seemed that this was the best she was going to get.

Neither she nor Adras knew how to find the fabric market. Tony was recruited to escort them with the promise of a half-piece.

"The ribbons are a nice touch especially with the trim one the neckline. Its quite" she paused a moment before smiling "bold I like it."

"We could always make you one but I don't think it would suit you."

Tony interrupted whatever Adras was about to say just then.

"Here we are Ms. Adras, Ms. Jen."

"Thank you Tony." Adras paid him and Gwen said a quick good-bye to the child before he hurried off to continue plying his trade.

Once in the market Gwen had a fairly good idea of where to go. She remembered the locations of a couple merchants and Synove had told her where to find a few others.

"Had you considered colors at all?" Gwen asked.

"Maybe copper if we can find it."

Gwen nodded "I was also thinking of walnut, virgin blue and emerald green."

"I like those colors."

"What about a nice brocade?"

"For trousers?"

"Yes, why not or perhaps a formal length tunic?"

"A formal tunic?" Adras seemed far more incredulous than she'd expected.

"Or not."

"No, I would love a formal tunic. It's just that every seamstress I've dealt with has always had to have been coerced into making me a tunic for formal wear.

"Well you're employing me now Adras," Gwen smiled, "and you can have whatever you like."

The redhead's eyebrows arched into her hairline and she chuckled.

"Careful Jen, you may yet regret that offer."

"Not if you pay me well enough," Gwen countered cheekily.

The two women shopped for some hours finding the fabrics that best suited Adras' needs and complexion. In the end, they bought all of the colors that Guinevere suggested, two brocades and a few muslins to serve as linings for the new garments. Gwen was going to be busy with this work for some time and her anxiety about finding employment began to ease.

"So Jen, fancy some lunch?" Adras asked.

"It is about that time, sure."

"Do you have a taste for anything in particular, lunch is on me."

Gwen considered for a moment "Fish actually it's so very fresh here."

Adras smiled "Are you sure? We can get red meat and cheese if you like with white bread?"

"I know its simple peasant fare and I do enjoy the richer foods but sometimes cabbage and turnips and peas with a little butter and fish and fresh brown bread just seems heavenly, unless you'd like something else?"

"Oh no Gwaine and I grew up on that simple food and you're right it can be heavenly." The two women shared a smile. "We'll get some fresh fish and whatever vegetables are at the market and walk over to Snake's Wineskin. They'll cook it for us.  The cooks at Snake's really know what they are doing. They provide all the herbs and seasonings for you."

Gwen nodded.

Adras made arrangements to have her purchases carted over to Ms. Alfonsa's and then headed over the fish market.

Adras purchased a good sized salmon, a small cabbage, an onion, some garlic and turnips. _____ provided the herbs and seasonings.  The atmosphere was friendly not unlike the taverns back home plaster walls and ceilings supported by wooden beam and simple wooden chairs and tables. They waited in a short queue to hand the fish and vegetables over to the cook and then found a table.

"We have no...taverns -taverns is not the right word- like this in Camelot, seems rather convenient."

"Supposedly it is a Roman kitchen."

 "Do the merchants imitate the empire in all things?"Gwen faintly amused, "I'm surprised they don't wear togas and leather skirts."

"Oh some of them do! Come July you'll see them walking about full of pride at their civilized ways rubbing their swollen bellies, with gold wingtips on their sandals."  Adras shook her head in bemusement and Guinevere laughed, not at all certain if she wanted to see the picture Adras' words created.

They didn't have to wait very long for their food to be brought to them. The plates were beautiful. Turnips and peas cooked to perfection, dressed with little sprigs of parsley, salmon lying alongside it, in perfect fillets, the spicy fragrance of pepper, garlic and onion teased their nostrils.

"It smells wonderful," Gwen said wide-eyed.

"I told you Ma is the best."

The two women dug into their meal. Guinevere savoring first the warm buttery taste of the salmon and then the slightly sweet tender flavor of the turnips.

"You did well back there."

Gwen wiped her mouth and sipped at the mead. "What do you mean?"

"With the merchants I always pay ten times that amount."

"Ten times?"

"They come to my house and I bargain them down of course. But damn, I never get deals that good. Perhaps I should start going back to the market."

"Perhaps," Guinevere shrugged."Adras 'um were you planning to write Gwaine about meeting me?"

"Yes actually but I hadn't yet."

"Would you mind terribly not writing him yet?"

Adras was silent for a long moment brown eyes locked on hers.

"Why?" She said at last and took a bite of her food.

"I didn't leave under the best circumstances." She pleading tone creep into her voice "I'd like to write him myself once I'm more 'er established."

Gwen bit her bottom lip and watched Adras intently. She knew that the other woman wanted Gwaine to know that she was doing as he'd asked. She just hoped Adras didn't mind waiting a little while yet.

Finally the red-head nodded and Guinevere relaxed.

"Thank you."

"Just short while though," Adras admonished and Gwen nodded in agreement.

"Yes of course." Guinevere took a bite of her fish then and sighed as the warm buttery taste of salmon filled her mouth.

"You're really enjoying that," Adras said

Her eyes flew open and she smiled. "It's really good. I'm glad we came here."

"Good," Adras sipped her mead and leaned forward a bit "Tell me how it is that you know my brother."

"He didn't tell you?"

The other woman shook her head negative, wiped her mouth and took a sip of her mead.

"No. Letters from Gwaine are few and far between seeing as how he never learned to read and write. He only told me that you were a dear friend, "that you were a wonderful, kind and caring woman, there was some trouble afoot and to please look out for you." I know very little of your history or your friendship with Gwaine."

"Well it's very simple he is a knight to the king and I was a maid at the palace. After he became a knight he did not become unfriendly to servants and so we retained our friendship."

Adras nodded "That is very like him. Though," she paused "I still don't understand how it is that he became a knight at all. That is certainly not something he ever wanted before. I thought surely when he left for Camelot he'd back in a few months but…I just don't understand it. The Gwaine I know wanted no part of nobles or royalty."

"Ahhh- the king of Camelot is somewhat different. He promoted a number of commoners for knighthood and respects all people no matter their station."

"You speak highly of him."

"He is a good man, I suppose." Guinevere frowned. "But Gwaine is a good man too. He and a good friend of mine are very close." Gwen launched into the tale of Gwaine and Merlin's first meeting.

After lunch Guinevere and Adras went back to Ms. Alfonsa's. There Gwen fitted Adras for a muslin lining that would serve as the guide for all trousers she made for the taller woman going forward. From there she'd make a partial lining and have Adras over for another fitting. If they were satisfied she'd use the guide to make all the other pants. If not Gwen would make the necessary adjustments and refit the lining. If she was doing her job properly then she shouldn't have to refit the lining more than once.

Guinevere spent the next couple of days in the parlor working on Adras' order and listening to Synove sing, Ylsa tell stories or Kerenza talk about her work for Mr.Leufrid. It seemed now they were looking into the philosopher's stone. Ms. Alfonsa was out on business both days but stopped in to chat with her from time-to-time.

"You have been working so hard these past few days, Jen." Ms. Alfonsa walked into the parlor on that third afternoon.

"Well I'd like to get this work done for Adras as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Ms. Alfonsa moved one of the chairs to the other side of the end table Gwen was using for her sew basket and notions."I understand you've been having a difficult time with your job search."

Gwen sighed, "Yes, my references were ruined when I fell in the river."

"Unfortunate that," Ms Alfonsa took a deep breath "I understand Mr. Theobauld's household still needs a maid."

Gwen grimaced. The idea of being a maid again made her quite sick.

"Hear me out." Ms. Alfonsa said "I like you Jen a lot and it is unfair that you’re having such difficulty. Unfair as it is you must understand. If you turn down opportunities for honest work and are later unable to pay your rent I will find it difficult to be sympathetic.  I know you don't want to be a maid and I don't blame you, but a smart woman of character and good background must be eager to take the honest work comes to her. Especially when that work will allow her to build the references she so dearly lacks."

"I have this work from Adras and surely I shall find more.  Synove has said she will recommend me to her employers."

"That's all well and good but there are no guarantees on these things. Take the maid job Jen," Ms. Alfonsa squeezed her arm gently "else I shall find it difficult to be sympathetic to you in the future." With that Ms. Alfonsa rose and smiled down at her "I hope we understand on another dear."

Gwen watched the older woman as she strode from the room and a new sense of unsettledness washed over her.

Gwen squinted at the late morning sun. Normally she loved letting the heat wash over her and soak into her muscles. Today it made her sick. Or maybe it was something else. The meazlis case in portside of the city was now several meazlis cases and the city officials were starting to wonder if this was the beginning of an outbreak. If that were the case, the sight of reaper's cart loaded with the tiny bodies of children would soon be a regular sight. Having survived meazlis as a child Gwen had nothing to fear but no one liked that sight. Her steps brought her home and Gwen open the door to find Ms. Alfonsa and Ylsa in the foyer chatting.

"Ahhh Jen I was just on my way out. The interview went well?"

Somehow she stretched her face into an unenthusiastic smile.

"They want me to start Monday."

"I know you have doubts about this Jen but you will see it is a wise choice," Ms. Alfonsa congratulated her and headed out the door.

"You want to play a game of solitaire or are you gonna be working on Adras' clothes?" Ylsa asked.

"Actually I feel kind of sick. I'm going to lie down."

Gwen lay down on her bed with a sigh as her stomach twisted. The upset had started almost the moment she'd agreed to start work on Monday. The walk home had only made her nauseatingly hot and now her head was starting to hurt.

"You feel sick Jen?"

Gwen looked over her shoulder to see Ylsa standing beside her bed. She hadn't heard the other woman follow her.

"Yes."

"What's bothering you?" The midwife's tone was incredibly gentle.

"I feel nauseas and my head hurts." Gwen was surprised to hear a vaguely plaintive tone in her voice.

"Scoot over a bit." 

She did as the other woman asked and felt Ylsa's weight settle beside her.

"Being a midwife I know something about stomach upsets."

She felt Ylsa's fingertips marching in small soothing circles along her back and the woman began to hum. Very slowly the knot of tension in her stomach began to loosen. A familiar tune, one her mother had sung to her when she wasn't feeling well.

 "I think you just have a case of nerves." Ylsa said softly "Try to relax, try to sleep. I know you don't always sleep well."

She started humming again and Gwen felt a slow lassitude seem to settle over her. Ylsa was right she didn't always sleep well. She followed the soothing melody of the tune Ylsa hummed and let her breathing fall in time with it. Slowly, slowly the ache in her head began to dissipate as if the tension were somehow flowing out and away with the song.

"That's right you feel better now hmm?"

"Yes."

"No more tummy ache, no more head ache?"

Gwen chuckled at her friend's words.

"No. I feel much better actually."

"Good. You don't want that job do you?"

"No. I don't want to be a maid. Once was enough."

She felt her stomach twisting.

"Stay calm. If this job is gonna make you sick then don't take it."

"But I need money. What if I run out of savings and this job is gone and no one will hire me? Then what?"

"What's worse? Fearing you won't find work in the future or taking a job that will make you ill in the present?"

"I do not know. The job would be safe, secure but…"She thought back to the last time she'd made the safe choice, at the river.

"Security is important but sometimes you must take risks as well. Everyone in Wyeledon takes risk. We are all immigrants it was a risk to come here without family or support."

"I came by accident." Gwen murmured.

"By accident to a city of risk perhaps you were guided here to learn something of yourself to learn to gamble on yourself."

"I don't know Ylsa."

"It is your decision. Now as a midwife I know a lot about health and I am ordering more sleep for you. Tomorrow the two of us shall go and pick some herbs to make a sleeping potion for you and also a distress potion."

"That is a good idea." Guinevere shifted onto her side so that she could see her friend's face.  "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You know herbs?" Ylsa asked expression piqued.

"Yes, I studied a lot with the court physician back home."

"Oh. Hmm, why didn't you say so? I need help keeping all my potions and remedies mixed and fresh. If you know herbs and plants I'll gladly pay you to gather and prepare some for me."

Gwen felt her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, I pay some of the local children but they don't know the herbs as well and they can't prepare them. Someone with medical knowledge though would be a big help. You may even be able to help Kerenza. She sometimes has to make preparations too."

"Well I'd be glad to. I'm feeling a lot better now actually."

"Good. Now why didn't you mention this knowledge sooner?" Ylsa's tone was chiding and Gwen gapped at her.

"I hadn't finished and besides I'm not certain I want to be a physician anymore they are always employed by houses and lords and I don't want to be attached to a family."Gwen yawned as she was finishing. The lassitude that had settled over her while Ylsa tended her headache seemed to be surging again.

"Ooohhh I think I see.  We'll talk about this later. Get some sleep; Mr. Howard will be here soon."

"Mr. Howard? This will be his second time coming to see you this week."

Ylsa preened "I'm letting him take me to all the plays."

"Oh, well you are looking lovely. Enjoy!"

"Thank you." Ylsa patted her hair and smoothed her pink dress. "I'll check on you when I get home." The two women kissed each other's cheeks.

When Ylsa had gone Gwen let the lassitude wash over her as she drifted into sleep.

Gwen opened her eyes. The golden light of the sunset stained the walls of their bedroom a warm sepia. She could not recall what she dreamed, something about Arthur and being safe but unsafe.

"I want you to be as secure as I can make you." He'd said those words to her on more than one occasion. Her mind wondered to the last time.

              "Gwen," Arthur took her hands as he so often did, twining his warm, strong fingers with hers to pull her close to him. "I've missed you."

              Guinevere felt a sweet, pounding swell her heart at those words. They were in his room suite standing near his desk weak autumn sunlight of late afternoon shone through the windows.

"I missed you too."

              He smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss against her lips. She smiled slightly even as she kissed him back. She'd missed this too, his arms, his lips, and the scent of cassia, sandalwood and cloves that always clung to him, the sea blue of his eyes. He pulled back a bit and she pressed forward not ready to be done with his kiss.

              "Wait," his words were soft but urgent and he brushed gentle fingertips against her lip. "I don't want to forget." Arthur turned away from her for a moment and she let her eyes travel over the length of him. Taking in his blue tunic and vest the way his muscles pushed and shaped the fabric, his proud profile.

"I have something for you." His had squeezed hers and Gwen felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

              "A present but you don't have-"

              "I wanted to." He faced her then, eyes warm and serious, a red silk wrapped bundle in his large hand.

              Lately if Arthur left for more than a few days he always returned with some little gift for her. Gwen felt a stirring of excitement as she eyed the bundle in his hand she was getting used to these little presents. The silk itself was beautiful a long length of luxurious bright red, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight begging to be touched. She took it from him and felt the softness of the material and the hard metal it concealed. Gwen eyed him curiously before unwrapping the silk to reveal a bronze hair clasp.

              The sun dropping below or perhaps climbing above the horizon had been carved in exquisite detail, rays bending and curving, blossoming like a rare black flower.

              "It's beautiful Arthur."

              He was smiling a very pleased self-satisfied looking smile.

"Thank you."

              "Try it on."

"All right."

Gwen sat the ornament on Arthur's desk and began undoing her braid very conscious of his eyes following her hands through her hair.

"Tell me about your trip." She said suddenly nervous at his scrutiny.

"Nothing to tell, it was rather boring actually." He fingered one of her stray curls. "We met with King Bayard of Mercia and discussed whether or not there would be a problem with the Saxons. It seems the Wyeledon merchants have made some sort of arrangement with the Galician. So that port is at least secure. No Vikings or raiders should be expected from there but there are so many inlets for invaders to land in."

"That doesn't sound boring at all." Gwen shook out her curls and felt her face grow hot as Arthur's gaze darkened and narrowed.

"Turn about," he said softly.

"Hmmm?"

"Turn," he emphasized by pantomiming with his hand.

"Very well," Gwen turned still thinking to do up her hair when she felt Arthur's larger hands close firmly round her own and his firm chest briefly brushed her back.

"Let's put these here." He lowered her hands gently to her sides, pressing them briefly to her hips. A moment later she felt a soft kiss on the back of her head

"I may not be a handmaiden but I am certain I can do up a hair clasp."

She started to turn, retort on her lips but his hands warm and firm on her shoulders kept her gently but firmly in place.

"Now you were saying that the meeting didn't sound boring at all?"

"Not at all." The feel of his hands sliding gently over her elicited a little sigh and she felt him making a simple part in the center of her hair.

"It sounds exciting and perhaps a bit scary."

"Scary?"

"Just a bit."

Was he smelling her hair? A moment later she felt a soft lingering kiss on the side of her neck.

"I thought you were doing my hair?" She chided lightly.

"I am I assure you," his breath was warm against her ear "but truly Madame you shouldn't have such a lovely tempting neck. What am I to do when presented with this silk, honey skin but adore it with kisses?" His words set her a tingle as if he were indeed pressing soft kisses there.

His fingertips slid along the column of her throat and leaned into his touch savoring the feel of them.

"As you wish Madame," a moment later he was gathering her hair and fastening the clasp so it sat loosely at the base of her neck."You'd have been brilliant at the conference."

He pushed the ponytail forward over one shoulder.

"No, I'd have blurted out something ridiculous at the wrong time."

"Guinevere," he turned her about "You do have a penchant for speaking your mind but you speak with such wisdom. I've heard about how you handled my uncle when we were away. Your words were quite the weapon to defend Camelot from cowardice."

              She grew hot with embarrassment.       

"You heard about that?"

"Yes, I was quite proud of you." He toyed with the curls resting on her right breast.

"Of me?" Gwen pushed her ponytail back over her shoulder so that her hair now hung down her back. Arthur pouted at her but she stared him down.

"So you were proud of me?"

"Yes absolutely."He rested his hands on her waist and kissed her again briefly. "Now I have something else for you." He turned back to the desk and pulled a small felt pouch from the chest on the writing table.

"Arthur," she frowned "is that money?"

"Yes. Guinevere, this is a bonus. An acknowledgement of the work you've done on Camelot's behalf nursing my father," he swallowed all playfulness gone from his expression. "I could not have concentrated on running the kingdom if I'd have been worried about who was looking after him."

"Arthur," she took his face in her hands, and fixed her eyes on his. He must be made to understand this, "If taking care of you and taking care of this kingdom means taking care of him so be it."

He looked down and then looked back at her eyes pleading for something.

"You're giving me something that I did not give to you."

"That was in the past. We were different then."

"-I know but I want to- Let me acknowledge it-"

"It's an act of love; it can only be repaid in kind."

He had kissed her then deeply. Crushing her body to his as if she were the most important thing in the all the world. The strength and solidness of her muscles of melted away and she pressed close to him taking all that he had to offer.

Two days later she returned home from work and found the felt pouch sitting on her table with a note not unlike the one he'd left with the pouch of silver he'd given her a few years ago. Only this note ordered her to keep them. When she'd opened the pouch and seen the gold inside Gwen had nearly fainted from the shock.

Six, gold, coins.

The only one of Arthur's remaining gifts. Six, gold, coins enough to buy her room and board at Ms. Alfonsa's for two years. Six, gold, coins given to serve her when she needed it.

"I want you to be as secure as I can make you."

Gwen got out of bed; black curls messy from sleep. She had six gold coins and it was time to part with at least one of them.

Next week we are back in Camelot, for Chapter XII.  Already close to the edge Arthur and Merlin learn some painful truths.

The Truth Will Out Chapter 12

The Exile

-Part 2, Chapter XII

And The Truth Will Out

Arthur closed his hand round the back of John's neck and pulled the other man to his feet.

"You've murdered an innocent man," righteous indignation swelled in him "a descent loving husband that only wanted to make a life for himself with the woman he loved." He hurled the other man into tall chest of some sort and watched him fall backwards stumbling onto some broken pottery.

He leaned over John, glaring as the other man scrambled backward over broken pottery, wincing and pathetic. It only made him angrier.

"Please sire," John held up one hand in entreaty.

"You cuckolded this man in his own home. Did you think about him, about his reputation about his heartache?"

"Sire it wasn't like that."John held up on hand as if to ward off further punishment.

"Of course it wasn't," Arthur growled "you thought only of yourself, of the moment."

He pulled John to his feet heedless of the other man's blood. Rather than hurling him toward the wall he turned him and pulled John's arm up into the small of his back forcing it higher and then higher still.

John cried out in pain.

"I could break this arm." He said "I think that's what I would like to do."

"Your majesty?" Arthur looked up and saw the tall cloaked figure of Magistrate Grigor in the doorway of the cottage, lamp held high.

"Grigor?" He released his hold on John immediately.

For a long moment the magistrate only looked at him taking everything in and Arthur fought the urge to shrink back from the older man's scrutiny.

"Forgive me sire but what stinks?" The magistrate's dark face frowned as he pressed his free hand to his nose. Arthur felt a bit of relief that the other man made no comment at what he'd witnessed.

"You've got a murderer to deal with Grigor and an adulteress." He glanced at the woman still unconscious and wondered briefly at that.

"Murder and adultery?" Grigor replied dryly and strolled into the tiny house.

"I leave it in your hands then," Arthur strolled out before Grigor could attempt to engage him in conversation. He wanted nothing more than to get back to the palace and get changed. He'd gotten no more than a few feet when a woman dodged into his path

"Sire forgive my boldness," the woman was bowing her head giving him the view of only a linen cap and few strands of dark fly away her. When she spoke her words quick and breathless, "you may not recognize me. I am Enid, a friend of the Goode family."

Arthur took a breath "What can I do for you?"

She lifted her head, wide eyes, pale and desperate met his own.

"Sire, you must help up. Sarah is not an adulteress some evil magic has pushed her to this. Please don't leave this in the hands of the magistrate. It's more than he can handle."

"Magic?" Arthur felt his upper lip curling "you are mistaken Madame." He turned to go and started when he felt the woman's hand clutch his arm.

There were tears in her eyes when he looked back at her.

"Please sire, I beg you." The grip on his arm tightened but the hand trembled. "There is a curse on the city. Rolfe Goode may be the first to die but this is the twelfth such incident in fourteen weeks sire, he will not be the last."

"Twelfth?"

Fourteen weeks, fourteen weeks since he had banished Gwen.

"Adultery and murder are common enough incidents."

"Sire, please listen. If you love your people as they say you do then, you must listen. Do not let whatever curse it is that is upon the city continue to spread, we need you." She fell silent desperate eyes locked on his.

Arthur turned to face her "What do you believe is happening other than simple human weakness?"

She took a breath.

"Well speak."

"In little more than three months twelve women have betrayed their husbands. Twelve good honest women sire all living with just these few blocks. All of them have turned down once beloved beaus and spouses for men that they had previously rejected."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps they simple revealed their true natures? People, women in particular are often not what they seem. "

She drew back a bit but pressed on.

"Sire please don't dismiss this. One might prove treacherous, two might but twelve, no. Please question them yourself. If something is not done there will be no peace and more people will die."

"Magistrate Grigor" Arthur called to the older man.

"Yes sire," The magistrate came outside.

The magistrate was an older man, very tall and with night dark skin and large dark eyes. Normally large eyes gave the impression of youth or naiveté but on Grigor they gave the impression of seeing everything. In spite of the very low noble rank of Yeoman, the magistrate gave an impression of being outranked only by the king himself. His family had a long history of service to the crown.

"This is the twelfth such case of adultery in fourteen weeks?"

He took a moment before responding surveying both the king and Enid, eyes narrowing ever so slightly on seeing the other woman.

"Yes your majesty."

"And this is unusual?"

He drew in a deep breath his dark face gleaming under the torchlight.

"Most unusual sire," he paused clearly thinking "people will always catch us unawares with their actions but this is different. Even when people surprise us there is rhyme and reason to their acts, consideration of their own interest that is lacking here."

"Because it is a curse," Enid hissed vehemently.

The magistrate frowned and rubbed his forehead for a moment.

"Do you believe these twelve affairs to have been caused by magic?"

"Possibly sire."

"Why else would it be happening like this," Enid blurted out and bowed "I apologize for speaking out of turn, sire."

"You make a point." Arthur acknowledged and turned his attention back to Grigor "You did not believe this to be worthy of the attention of the crown?"

Again the older man was silent for a long time.

"I had hoped to resolve it myself since these crimes are under my jurisdiction and truthfully sire no one wants to poke the angry bear." Grigor looked at him pointedly.

"Bear?"

"Angry bear."

Enid cleared her throat, "Sire, if I may."

Arthur nodded

"This is too many in too short a time. What else would make women in Camelot destroy their relationships by adultery one-by-one?"

"I do agree with her sire I have dealt with all manner of crimes, adultery included. These recent cases are irregular for many reasons."

Arthur considered something his father had once cautioned him about regarding the people's fear of magic.

"How is it that you attempted to solve this problem Grigor?"

The magistrate looked away mouth twisted. For a long moment he was silent lamplight flickering over his dark face. When he looked back the older man locked his dark eyes on the king's.

"I consulted with the druids sire."

Enid let out a gasp.

Arthur measured the other man. There was no fear in him just proud defiance as he faced his sovereign, chin high, shoulders squared.

"Magic Grigor?"

"I assure you I broke no laws. I left Camelot to speak with the druids, I practice no magic myself and I brought no druids into Camelot."

"Consorting with practitioners of magic is illegal, is itself a crime," Arthur said.

"Forgive me sire but you were not here in the days before the purge, I was. I saw both the evil and the good. I saw magic bend time and nature and I saw it save lives and protect people from beast that we have fought at much greater cost under both your reign and your father's. I believed and still believe that we are dealing with magic and I thought it best to consult with those who might offer the insight of experience."

Arthur frowned he could not defy the magistrate's logic but he was not yet certain what he thought of the man's actions.

"We will consider your actions later. I will supervise this investigation going forward. However magistrate I still require you do your job."

"Of course sire."

Arthur halted a passing patrol "Wait here."

"Sire if I may make a suggestion?"

"Please do so."

He glanced pointedly at Enid who was watching them with anxious eyes, the two men moved a little ways away.

"We need to keep Sarah from her lover and ignorant of her husband's death for a time. We'll get the best information from her that way sire."

Arthur considered that for a moment before turning back to Enid.

"Get her dressed and take her to the court physician, if she wakes do not tell her anything You," he motion to one of the patrol "help her get the young woman inside the house to the palace."

"Yes sire," they said it in unison and went into the house.

"Guard."

"Your majesty."

"See to it that John is placed in a cell alone in the dungeons and allowed no visitors. Also have one of your men escort Sarah and Enid to the palace. Do not speak of what has happened here tonight to either of them. Once Sarah has been turned over to Gaius keep a guard on the door and send Enid directly to me."

"Yes sire," The guard bowed and began issuing orders to his men.

Arthur turned to the magistrate who wore only a light cloak over his bedclothes.

"Gather your evidence Grigor, I expect you in an hour. We will settle this tonight."

"Yes your majesty, thank you." The older man bowed and started toward his home.

Arthur hurried back to the palace mind full with the evening's experiences. A man had been murdered in his lap; the people believed the city was under a curse, Grigor was consulting with druids and he smelled. Arthur told himself to anger the current of emotion swelling around him he had work to do.

Magistrate Grigor hurried to his home; his thoughts rushing from on topic to another. The plan had been to find the token, build his case and then perhaps partner with the court physician to present it. Now the king was involved and he still had not determined the source of the magic.

"Well?" Efan was there almost the moment the door opened. She looked up at him with wide anxious eyes, her black-brown waist length curls tumbled from sleep. She'd lit a few candles and shadows danced over her pale face and creamy white wrapper.

"Is Sarah well?"

He rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them gently.

"I don't know. She was unconscious when I left her. John the weaver has been arrested apparently they were having an affair."

"Oh god! Not another one." She took a step back and paced to the mantle.

"There's more."He told her then about Rolfe being dead, about the king having taken over the investigation. He left out how he'd found the king beating the snot out of John and threatening to break his arm.

"You can tell him your theory at least."

"Yes."

"Grigor what is it?"

He licked his lips "I haven't found the token."

"No, you haven't but you've plenty of evidence and Arthur trust and respect you. He'll listen to you."

He studied his wife's pale face in the candlelight. Her wide blue eyes were serious and encouraging. Not many people knew the king better than Efan. She had been his wet nurse during his infancy and was the closest thing he had to a mother. When the prince had been ten years of age then King Uther had arranged the match between Grigor and his wife.

"It's not right what's happened to Gwen and Arthur."

"We're going to fix it darling." He stroked her dark curls not really seeing the strands of grey that showed the passage of time and age. Some said that Efan and Gwen were quite similar. Same height, similar builds, same curls, same wide easy smiles, and pointed little chin. Efan's skin was creamy white where Gwen's was cinnamon brown and Efan's eyes were quite blue while Gwen's were a warm brown but both women were very similar.

He gave her a quick soft, kiss.

"I'm going upstairs to get dressed can you get my two most recent log books and my notes for the past two months?"

She nodded, "Do you think it's going to be a long night?"

Grigor considered that "Perhaps."

"Shall I pack you a couple of drumsticks and bread?"

"Thank you darling but if I need to I'll find something at the palace."

"Grigor how was he? Did he look unwell?"

Grigor thought back on what he'd witnessed at Sarah's. Arthur was no sadist or tyrant but he'd been taken some satisfaction from beating John.

"I'm worried about him," was his reply.

She frowned.

"Let me go darling the king expects me."

"Of course," she took a step back and went to go get the log books. Grigor headed upstairs to dress.

Once he was dressed Grigor took a moment to review his notes. Even though Arthur was now king, Grigor still thought of him very much like a son. As Arthur had grown older, Uther had grown colder, ruling him rather than parenting him. Grigor had done his best to provide the young prince with the emotional support he needed. Seeing Arthur and Gwen pulled apart, learning that Gwen might have been enchanted- He and Efan ached for them and now these rumors about Gwen…

Grigor said a quick prayer before heading down stairs.

"Efan you've got my log books?"

"Yes!"She came out of the kitchen carrying his log books and a little bundle. Grigor found himself smiling at her consideration.

"Darling I told you not to trouble yourself with anything to eat."

"I know you did but give it to the king if you don't eat it and send him my love."

"All right," he kissed her cheek and headed out the door. It was time to fix this.

Merlin sat down on the floor of his chamber facing the east. For three weeks now he'd been working to find Gwen. Working and failing in every spare moment. When meditating to learn her fate his mind turned again and again to Morgana and The Shade. When dowsing to discern her location nothing happened. He was completely blocked but he had to keep trying. Tonight he was doing something different instead of attempting to keep his focus with Gwen he was going to let his mind go down that other path, his follow his anger with Morgana and himself.

He built Gwen's image in his mind with practiced ease and concentrated on what he wanted to see- the meeting between her and the bandit.

He saw her for the hurrying through the woods as the setting sun at her back. Finally she came to a stream and Merlin could truly see her sad state. Her curls were braided into thick, messy plaits, red scratches stood out against skin turned white with ash. Her once attractive clothing was dirty, torn and bedraggled. He saw no sign of the cart.

She drank from the stream and then sat down a few feet away.

Don't camp there. Don't you know how dangerous it is? Everything and everyone will come to the stream. Was this how she had run into trouble? His anger flared at the thought and Morgana was before him as he had seen her last, unconscious on the forest floor. Instead of forcing his thoughts back to Gwen he let them go where they would.

He was there not as Dragoon the Great, he was himself and he had a knife in hand. Merlin watched as he moved quickly and quietly to Morgana. He knelt beside her and then swiftly and smoothly slit her throat. Merlin groaned inwardly, well aware of the fact that if he'd taken one of his many opportunities to kill Morgana, Gwen would be alive and well right now. But he hadn't. How did it help to dwell on what ifs? He saw himself slitting her throat again and winced away. He didn't really want to do that, he was no murderer.

Then why not give everything over to Morgana? You may not want to kill her but she will happily kill you. It wasn't good enough for her that Lancelot sacrificed himself she had to torment his spirit as well make him an instrument of destruction turned against those he loved. Gwen was her friend, someone she loved and where is Gwen now thanks to that love. She'd murdered her own father terrible though he was. She will show no mercy to you or Arthur or Gaius or Gwaine.

But I'm no murder.

Then why bother finding out where Gwen is if you're not going to anything different. If she was alive would you bring her back here to fall under Morgana's threat again?

He hadn't considered that. Morgana's love for Gwen had become hate; sweet, loving Gwen would always be in danger from her.

Exactly, the inner voice hissed. Suddenly his choice was quite clear. Morgana would come at them again and when she did she would not survive the encounter.

He was back at the stream. Gwen was sitting and then lying down to sleep. And then they were in the council room and she was pulling The Shade's lips down to hers a knowing smile on her face. Merlin felt his anger flare but not for Morgana this time. How could she have betrayed them? The peace he needed to summon a vision shattered. Merlin opened his eyes. He was mad at Gwen? He pushed up from the floor, slowly stretching his stiff limbs. He needed a break, he had expected to think through this thing with Morgana and be able to focus on what he needed to know

His stomach rumbled; he hadn't eaten before starting this evening. Merlin headed into the outer chamber.

Gaius was sitting unmoving at the table where they took their meals, his expression far away and sad. In one hand he held a piece of paper and the other a bracelet.

"Gaius?"

When the physician did not look up at the sound of his name Merlin grew worried.

"Gaius?" He gave the older man's shoulder a gentle shake.

"Merlin," Gaius looked up, firelight flickering on his face. Had he been crying?

"Gaius are you well?"

"Enid was just here," he paused "she has brought the most terrible news." Gaius studied the scrap of paper in his hand and let out a breath. "She told me," the older man stopped again and glanced at Merlin, "she told me that she thought there was a curse on the city."

"A curse? Gaius are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine." He patted Merlin's hand and carefully folded the scrap of paper he'd been holding. "There have been women in the lower town," he spoke slowly as if absorbing the weight and meaning of his words as he said them "compelled to seek affairs with former lovers. Twelve in the fourteen weeks since Gwen had been gone."

"What!" Merlin stared at him at the older man, all thoughts of vision seeking pushed from his mind by this new information.

"Something is compelling women to have affairs." Gaius spoke slowly emphasizing each word. "She said at first she thought that somehow angry nobles had arranged the fiasco with Gwen and Lancelot. Since then she's changed her mind and thinks that there is a curse on the city because of all the subsequent affairs. She's not the only person that thinks so. Magistrate Grigor went so far as to consult with the druids."

Merlin stared down at him.

"An enchantment?" He dropped onto the bench beside Gaius. "An enchantment."

The lamplight continued to flicker and there was the who-o-o of an owl looing in the night. A curse compelling women to have affairs with former lovers? His eyes roved over the cluttered contents of the room.

"But how?" Merlin asked the question not quite believing, not wanting to believe what that meant about Gwen and about himself.

"What do you make of this?" Gaius held up the bracelet.

It was beautiful and silver gleaming bright in the firelight, flowers and trees flowing along its curved surface.

"It's a Bracelet what does this have to do with anything?"

"She was wearing it." Gaius pointed to the bed reserved for his patients. A young blonde woman in a simple and worn homespun dress lay there unconscious.

Merlin studied the woman on the couch, she was quite young.

"That bracelet is certainly too expensive for her. She is one of the women and you think that bracelet compelled her?" He looked back at the bracelet.

Gaius nodded, "If Enid and the magistrate are right then this might be how the magic spread."

Merlin took a breath and reached out for the round of metal.

"Let me have it."

Gaius tucked the note that he'd been holding into his pocket and handed Merlin the bracelet.

The metal felt warm and alive under his fingertip and- His stomach turned as nausea washed over him. Merlin dropped it reflexively and the bracelet clattered to the floor.

"Merlin are you alright you look a little green?" Gaius's pale eyes were on him intently.

The nausea passed.

"I felt sick. I barely touched it and I felt sick. It's definitely enchanted." Merlin studied the bracelet without touching it again "It does looked familiar."

He steeled himself and picked it up. Prepared for the sick feeling Merlin ignored the wave of nausea and held on. The warlock slowed his breathing and after a few deep breaths the sickness began to pass. The trance state came easily, almost naturally now. He willed the bracelet to show him its secrets. An image came into his mind, an image of Gwen.

Not as he'd seen her last. Head bowed as she pulled her cart from Camelot, nor as he'd seen her in his vision by the stream. No it was years ago and she was weeping in Camelot's dungeons, Uther was planning to burn her for something he did.

"Remember me, remember me."

"Gwen how could I ever forget you?" He pulled the cell door open, entered and closed his arms around her. His only thought to give her comfort, reassurance that he would save her from the fires somehow. She cried into his shoulder tiny hands clutching his arms as if her very life depended on that grip. He pressed her closer, her small body warm and soft in his arms. She smelled sweetly of lavender and vanilla and he inhaled the delicious scent of her soft hair. Without realizing it he had moved one of his hands from the small of her back to tangle in those silky brown curls.

"Merlin?" She pulled back eyes damp.

"I- I'm sorry. I don't know what-" He looked away unable to meet her eyes fearing rejection, she always left him so confused and he was not a confident man.

"Don't be sorry." She forced him to meet her eyes."Don't be sorry." The words came warm and breathy as she devoured him with her eyes and Merlin felt an answering tide of lust and old emotions. Her tiny hands held his face and brought his lips down to hers. She was so soft and warm. Her delicious curves pressed against him, tongue sweet, hot and slick in his mouth like damp velvet. His blood was flowing south and in spite of everything he knew Merlin suddenly wanted, needed her desperately. He pressed against her making his need known and she pulled away a teasing look in her eyes.

"Come to me Merlin."

"God yes-"

"-Merlin!"

Gwen disappeared as Gaius's voice crackled into his brain like a whip. How had he gotten into the door way?

"Merlin where are you going?" Gaius dashed the bracelet out of his hands. "You looked as if you were in some sort of trance."

Merlin tugged at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to fan himself.

"I was-"

"What did you see?"

"Um a woman, from my past," he spoke quickly "Someone I might have had romantic feelings for once." Merlin coughed and felt his eyes drawn back to the bracelet; he wanted it and her-

"-Merlin concentrate," Gaius shoved him toward a stool and covered the bracelet with a cloth. "You saw someone you might have had feelings for."

"Yes ahhh-" He could still feel her softness "yes once, but no longer? They just seemed to come out of nowhere."

"And where were you going?"

"To her- I was drawn to her."Her eyes devoured him.

"So it's love charm?" Gaius questioned.

Merlin considered that.

"Nonono." He shook his head eyes on the bracelet dull blue fabric Gaius had covered the bracelet with he could still feel the softness of her body pressed against his. "That is carnal, definitely carnal." Merlin fanned himself and glanced at the young woman on the cot. "This was on Sarah Goode?"

"Yes.

"Gaius," he said forcing himself to concentrate "it drew me towards someone I once wanted and under its influence I would have gone to her no matter what. I want to take the bracelet from you and find her now. If Gwen was wearing this it would have sent her straight to the shade." His head was starting to hurt and he collapsed back into the chair. "She didn't do anything Gaius. Anything at all and now-"

"Merlin," Gaius sat down across from him one hand in his pocket. "You have to focus." The older man's voice gentle but firm, "Gwen is alive and she deserves to have her name cleared. We have to focus."

"Right, you're right." Merlin sat up and forced himself to concentrate. "He will need a demonstration."

"Arthur?"Gaius studied Sarah moment and the corner of his mouth quirked upward in the vaguest hint of a smile. "Let's put the bracelet back on Sarah."

"Back?" he felt himself balking.

"Yes Merlin. He mustn't have any doubts. One of us will have to be involved in the questioning and somehow make certain she takes it off so he can see a difference during the questioning. We'll still have to connect the bracelet back to Gwen-"

"No we won't." Merlin said with growing certainty. "Arthur will recognize it the moment he sees it."

"He will?" Gaius sounded genuinely puzzled.

"He was so upset by the idea that a man had given Gwen a costly piece of jewelry that he had a jeweler brought in to have a cuff bracelet made for her. He'll recognize it."

"Good that's one less thing to worry about."

Merlin slipped the bracelet back onto Sarah's wrist and then to be on the safe side used a little magic to lengthen her sleeves. They had to do this just so.

"Good thinking Merlin. He must see Sarah's focus on her lover first."

"Gaius, will it be enough do you think?"

"Enough to what?" The old man said "Convince Arthur? Merlin I don't think there is much more we can do."

Merlin frowned not at all certain he agreed with Gaius. This was how they had been doing things for the past six years. Doing things this way had led to Gwen being banished and possibly dead, Elyan departing, Lancelot spirit being tortured and his good name ruined and Arthur being turned against the woman he loved.

"I don't know Gaius," Merlin said softly.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. He already knew what Gaius would say if he told him he was thinking of telling Arthur about his magic.

A page brought Enid to his suite, first. He could see her more clearly now, she wore a simple cotton dress, a few strands of brown hair escaped a linen cap and her wide hazel eyes darted everywhere.

Arthur sat down at the head of the table and motioned for Enid take the chair to his right.

"Sire," she ducked her head quickly as she sat and Arthur could see that the confidence with which she had spoken earlier had abandoned her. "Where should I begin?"

"Start at the very beginning."

"Yes sire."

She started nervously her voice tremulous.

"At first it seemed one of those funny sorts of coincidences," her hands twisted the fabric of her skirt. "I mean Leolin catching Janet like that and Janet suddenly choosing Neirin. But then Mared coming onto Lynette after both of them had been married for fifteen years without a hint of impropriety between them and off they go without a second thought for their husbands…" Enid went on through her list of affairs her confidence growing as she told her tale. When she finished Arthur could not deny that there was truly something amiss in Camelot.

"Once is chance, twice is coincidence, third times conspiracy." He muttered.

"That's what I thought sire."

"Very well," he said "now tell me about Sarah."

She nodded and began again. Sarah had loved Rolfe since she was just thirteen, five years. Sarah it seemed had fallen in love with Rolfe only few months after he'd fallen in love with Guinevere. The pair had waited years to marry ensuring that Sarah would be safe when it came time for the bearing of children. The young woman had no duplicitous motive for marrying. And it was certainly strange that she would marry a man and betray him so carelessly all in one week. Yet and still stranger things had happened.

A knock came as she was finishing and the magistrate was announced. Magistrate Grigor arrived with two large, leather bound books under one arm.

"Magistrate Grigor how is Efan?" Arthur motioned for the man to have a seat.

A smile flickered across his face and he sat the two books on the table.

"She is well, complains that you haven't been by for dinner since your coronation. But she sends her love and chicken," Grigor handed the bundle of food to Arthur who smiled with delight.

"I was going to complain about the two of you not coming to the palace for dinner since my coronation but I think I'll just be satisfied with this."

"Good, because all those up in the air nobles and royals they give me indigestion." He winked and Arthur chuckled.

"I guess you make yourself sick too then," Arthur replied.

"Very clever,"Grigor chuckled.

"Let's get down to business, what do you have for us?"

"I have my logs."

"Good. Enid," Arthur turned his attention back to her "you have a sharp eye. I want you to stay and listen to the magistrate's report."

"Y-yes sire but my husband will wonder why I am so late coming home."

"I'll send a page over."

"Thank you sire."

He gave her a small smile of encouragement and she returned it.

The magistrate's log contained the full record of adultery cases for the past two years. In all that time there had only been ten penalties handed out for adultery. Of the ten, seven complaints had been lodged by the fathers of unmarried girls against married men. All had resulted in fines and time in the stocks. The remaining three had been the complaints of husband against wives. Again there had been times in the stocks and the lovers of the wives had paid a fine to their spouses. Only one case had resulted in a brawl.

Then in the last three months there had been twelve nearly identical cases of adultery. Thirteen if Guinevere was included. Arthur sighed it was more than unusual.

"Here's the thing sire most cases of adultery don't come to light and none so fast. People have affairs for months, years sometimes and often no one knows. Folks don't like to mess up their lives; don't like to hurt their spouses so they are careful. They get reckless after months or years of not getting caught." Grigor shook his head "These twelve were so reckless that they were caught almost as soon as they'd started, as if the purpose of the magic or curse were to get 'em caught."

"So you decided to consult with the druids."

Enid leaned in then.

"Yes."

Arthur sucked his tongue studying his friend. Merlin entered at that moment.

"Sire Sarah is awake."

"Thank you Merlin have a seat." Arthur ignored the vaguely surprised look on Merlin's face and returned his attention to Grigor "What did you learn from the druids?"

"I told them exactly what I told you, though there were only seven cases at the time. They could not say for certain, they had not spoken to any of the victims but they believed it some sort of strange magic. This spell it seems is particularly malicious. Love charms and potions and things are usually for the purpose of bringing two people together not pulling them apart. The magic is probably being spread through a personal item or token as it seems to affect only one person at a time. They suggested that it would look perfectly normal and would only seem malevolent to those sensitive to magic."

"Not so very much," Arthur said.

"But more than we knew before!" Enid said excitedly and then looked a bit contrite before settling back down.

"Did they have any idea of who might have done such a thing?"

The older man drummed his fingers on the table. "It could have been random magic let loose but given the timing," Grigor paused and met his eyes "they thought it might be your sister with her aim being to halt your marriage."

For a long time both men were silent.

"I see," Arthur said after a time "Have you anything else to report?"

"That's it sire. Everything is written in my logs." The magistrate gestured toward the two leather bound volumes."

"Here?" Merlin reached out his hands and stopped himself "May I?"

"I don't mind." Grigor replied.

"Well go ahead Investigator Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes and began looking through the slimmer of the two logs. Arthur studied his swollen knuckles and looked at the magistrate.

"When Sarah arrives I'd like you to handle questioning her."

He nodded after a moment "As you wish sire."

Arthur sent a page to fetch Gaius and Sarah. The four of them did not have long to wait. Gaius arrived with Sarah in tow. The physician looked much the same as the always. Someone had dressed Sarah in a simple peasant smock with overlong sleeves hanging to her knuckles and her blonde hair was wild about her head. She stood straight and walked tall before pausing before the king.

"Sire," she curtsied. "Good sirs."

Arthur ground his teeth watching her but motioned for her to take the seat across from Grigor. The magistrate leaned back from the table studying her briefly with slightly narrowed eyes.

"How are you feeling Sarah?" The dark skinned man smiled slightly.

"Well, I suppose. I don't quite understand how I got here though. The physician said I was fine but I have a bit of a headache." She lifted one hand to the back of her head and shot a nervous glance at Arthur.

The magistrate nodded."You hit your head. Do you remember how?"

"No. I remember I was playing cards with a friend and then my husband came home later than usual, that was it."

"Are you friends with John the weaver?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Yes, very good friends. I've known him all my life, he's a good man."

Arthur rolled his eyes and reminded himself she didn't know that her husband had been killed by this good man.

"Was he the friend visiting your home?" Grigor asked.

"Yes," she shot a wary glance at the Arthur.

"What were the two of you doing?"The Magistrate cocked his head to one side.

"Is John in trouble? Is that why I am here?"

"Shouldn't you be asking that question about your husband?" Arthur asked unable to stop himself.

All eyes shot in his direction on those words.

"O-of course I'm concerned about my husband." She looked around as if she expected some word or answer from outside herself "Is Rolfe in any trouble?"

"No, no your husband is fine." The magistrate's tone was quite soothing.

"Good. You were asking about John." She smiled as if this new topic pleased her so.

Arthur felt that anger starting to swell again and reminded himself that he had asked Grigor to question her.

"So John was visiting." Grigor prompted.

"That's right we were playing cards." She lifted her eyes from her lap and spoke, eyes and tone full of bravado. "My husband was working late. John was keeping me company."

"Company," A heated mist swam before his eyes "is that what you call it?"

"We were doing nothing wrong," her chin came forward and her eyes flashed.

"More lies Madame!" He'd heard the phrase boiling mad-

-"I'm not lying!" She said hotly.

"You're not?" Arthur pounded his fist on the table and surged to his feet."So why then did I come to your home and find you naked and unconscious while your husband and lover fought one and other over your worthless person?"

"No!" Sarah denied the accusation and Grigor laid a restraining hand on his arm. Arthur shook it off.

"Yes!" Sarah shrank back from him and Arthur snatched from her seat shaking her, the control he'd exercised with Guinevere forgotten. "Don't lie to your king!"

"You're hurting me," she raised one arm, a barrier between her and the king.

"What's this?" Arthur released his grip on her shoulders and lifted her arm to better study the silver bracelet she was wearing. "Where did you get this?"

"It's mine!" Sarah sobbed face red.

"Lies again!" he wrenched her arm and snatched it from her wrist. "Tell me the truth."

"I-I found it."

"Where?"

"In the street discarded."

Arthur studied the bracelet and looked at Sarah, who'd collapsed weeping on the floor. Enid had moved to crouch at her side, rubbing the young woman's back.

He'd seen this on Gwen shortly after proposing to her. It was expensive and he'd wondered immediately who'd given it to her. His mind had created a very sweet fantasy of draping her in Pendragon jewels. Guinevere had this and now Sarah. He sat it down on the table wondering suddenly if this was the token the druids had spoken of.

"Come on. Let's get you back in your seat." Enid said softly. Sarah nodded and let the other woman help her up.

"Arthur," he let Grigor pull him to the far side of the room, away from the table and Sarah and Gaius and Merlin to the far side of the room."Merlin," Grigor called out to the younger man "can you please fetch us some wine from the kitchens? I think we could all do with a drink."

"Of course," Merlin replied, if Grigor noticed the annoyance in the manservant's voice he didn't comment on it and neither did Arthur.

"Are you unwell sire?"

"I-" he started to lie but suddenly couldn't force the words past his lips not in the face of Grigor's obvious concern, "no I'm not."

The other man paused and took a long deep breath.

"Okay," Grigor clasped his forearms and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Can you hold it together for just a while longer? I'm with you, Merlin is with you, Gaius is with you. We're almost at the heart of the matter."

"But if Guinevere-"

"-I know but we need to finish this first. One thing at a time."

"You're right," Arthur took a deep breath in an effort to pull himself together. This was important, his people needed him and that included Guinevere.

Merlin returned quicker than expected with the wine and poured glasses for everyone.

"You have some too," Arthur said dully resuming his seat.

For a long time the only sound heard was the sipping and gulping of watered wine. Every now and again everyone shot glances at the bracelet. Everyone save Sarah. Sarah, sniffled and whimpered from time-to-time, ignoring her goblet in spite of Enid's attempts to get her to drink.

"Is it possible that I may be excused?" Sarah said at last. "I need to talk to my husband."

"Now you're worried about your husband?" Arthur questioned.

"Yes." She sniffed again "please sire I need to go to him."

"And why would he want you?" Arthur asked still not quite convinced.

"You're right of course, but-" she whimpered and wiped at her eyes. "Oh god! Please let me go to him. He saw-" she began crying again a miserable broken sound.

"What did he see Sarah?" the Magistrate asked patiently.

"I can't say it."

"You weren't worried about your husband a moment ago."Arthur said quietly.

She sniffed "You're right I wasn't. I've been so confused."

"Confused how?" The magistrate's tone was urgent.

"Just tell them everything Sarah," Enid said spoke to the girl in soothing tones.

"I-I just before my wedding- for years all I wanted was to marry Rolfe but we were too young. My parents made us wait, five just like you and her" she took a deep breath. "John is very handsome but Rolfe is the only man I've ever loved, ever wanted. Just before we were to be married all there were all these feelings. I don't know where they came from. They were overwhelming."

"All these feelings, they were overwhelming-" The same words Guinevere had used.

She scrunched up her face and ran her hands through her hair before continuing. Arthur considered what Grigor had just told him. All the women described the situation the same.

"Suddenly I was drawn to John. I tried to ignore it. I love Rolfe so much. I thought the confusion in my mind, the confusion in my heart would go away but-" she shuddered and hugged herself. "It didn't. It got worse. I was saying and doing things I'd never say, never do- I can't believe- Please can I go see my husband?" She looked at them in an entreaty and Arthur felt a wave of guilt flood through him.

"Soon Sarah soon," Grigor coaxed her along "just answer a few more questions. This is more important than you can imagine."

She nodded.

"When did you get this?" Grigor indicate the bracelet.

"I found it a few days before the wedding. I knew it belonged to some lady, someone important. I picked it up thinking to find the owner but I started to think how nice it might be to have something beautiful like this for my wedding. I put it on just before my wedding began."

Everyone round the table drew in a breath and Sarah eyed them all in confusion.

"What? What is going on?"

Arthur saw sympathy in Enid's face.

"Sarah will you do one more thing for us?" The magistrate asked "Can you put this on now?"

"I" she frowned and shook her head "-I don't want to."

"It's okay," Arthur said it softly feeling guilt at how he'd behaved only moments earlier. "Just for a few minutes more and then you may go."

She took a breath and reached out with trembling hands "Alright."

She slipped the bracelet back on. A sly look crept back into her features.

"Sarah?" The magistrate prompted her, "you said you were drawn to John even though you loved Rolfe?"

"John is," she paused "John is irresistible who wouldn't want him? I think about him all the time. I can't stop thinking about him."

"But not your husband?" Grigor asked.

She looked around much as she had earlier as if looking for the right answer.

"Well I do love my husband but I can't stop thinking of John."

Arthur stared at her; this was what Morgana had turned Guinevere into.

"Very well, Grigor said "why don't you give the bracelet back and then you can go see whomever you like?"

"As you wish," She couldn't keep the smile from her face as she slipped the thing from her wrist. Everyone watched and waited as regret, misery and horror crept back into her face.

"Sarah," Grigor's tone was soothing "do you still want to see John?"

"John? No! I need to see my husband." Horror filled her expression "Oh god, I don't know who I am anymore." She looked directly at him then. "I love Rolfe so much. I used to pray for Rolfe and I every day. And when your story sire, yours and Guinevere's came out, I thought all of us must be so blessed, so lucky. I used to laugh and liken us all the time. We even planned our wedding day to match yours." She paused shaking her head for a moment "I didn't understand how she could do it. If she loved you as much as I loved Rolfe and if you looked at her with half as much love as Rolfe looked at me- How could she possibly do it? I told myself I would never be like her, but I am just like her. I'm so sorry." Her head collapsed to the table in storm of tears.

"No Sarah," Arthur said softly after a few minutes passed "the apology is owed to you and Guinevere."

She raised her head then and Arthur felt his heartbreaking at the confusion in her face.

"What? Why? What's happening to me?" Her voice trembled with fear.

"You've been enchanted." Grigor explained.

She frowned and stared.

"Enchanted but how?"

"This bracelet that you found Sarah it spread the magic that enchanted you," Merlin said.

"This? But I don't- Why would someone enchant me?"

"It wasn't meant for you Sarah." Grigor replied.

"Whu-" Her lower lip quivered and her eyes grew wide.

Arthur pushed to his feet and walked away from the table. Guinevere had been enchanted. He'd seen the bracelet on her himself.

The room felt hot and tight suddenly. The voices of Sarah and the magistrate faded.

"I love you .You mean everything to me." "All I've ever wanted is to be your queen. I still want to be your queen." Why hadn't he seen? Why hadn't he heard-

"-and now you've killed my sister."

He needed air. Arthur opened one of the larger windows. The summer night had grown cool and he gasped in lung fulls of night air. The starry sky had taken on the cool grey of early morn the sun would be rising soon. Again his world would be turned upside down in less than twelve hours.

Sarah shrieked, a pathetic, miserable sound that twisted his heart and Arthur guessed they were finally telling her about her husband. He thought of Guinevere out there, somewhere perhaps dead. He looked at Sarah crying on Enid's shoulder, she and her husband both victims. He and Guinevere robbed of each other; Guinevere robbed of her good name.

"I'm so sorry Guinevere; by all that's holy I am so sorry."

"Am I to be your husband or your king?" He had failed her as both.

"Arthur." He heard Merlin's footfalls but did not turn."I won't ask how you're feeling."

"Like horse dung."

There was a pause, "Me too."

"You?" Now he turned to look askance at the younger man.

"I count Gwen amongst my friends as well."

"Of course you do Merlin but you didn't send her out there, away from her home, from her family. You weren't the one that didn't see all the ways it didn't make sense. You," he faced Merlin now "you tried to convince me to do something different but as always I let my uncle overrule my better judgment." Arthur fell silent.

"Overrule?"

"Yes. He was being nice, comforting not like my father would have been but insisting she be punished. When I told him I thought she was enchanted his entire demeanor changed. He told me I was being childish, grasping at straws. I had to respond robustly, I couldn't go easy on her because I loved her, reminded me that this was part of the inevitable challenge of being king."

He drew in a breath. The familiar whirling tide of despair and anger that seemed to always be with him surged and swelled drawing close.

"I was like a god damned puppet and now Guinevere is out there."

"You thought she might have been enchanted all those months ago?" Merlin asked and he sounded strangely bewildered.

Both men fell silent.

"Merlin what's the likelihood that Lancelot would just arrive in Camelot just as Gwen and I had agreed to marry just in time for her to find or receive that thing?" Arthur frowned "He had to be a part of it somehow."

"It would be an impossible coincidence."

"Exactly Merlin. I've been having this dream. I'm in the arena but only my mother and father are there. My mother looks at my father and says "He's not ready." My father replies "But they've tricked him". That's when I realize I am not wearing armor just trousers and sandals. I see my opponent then Lancelot. We wrestle like Greeks and he always gets me into a chokehold. I can't get my breath, everything blurs and that's when he starts to speak."

"I thought you were smarter than this. I stepped aside for you. I gave up my life for you. I thought you were smarter than this."

He drew a breath and admitted one simple fact.

"What we saw that night in the council room was no more Lancelot than it was Guinevere. Morgana couldn't have raised him from the dead there was no body? Perhaps it was someone wearing Lancelot guise. I don't know how she might have done it but I no longer believe it. That was a show made for us to see." The anger swelled again "That bitch when I see her again there will be no mercy, not tie of blood will protect her. Morgana's life forfeit. I swear it."

He didn't see Merlin take an involuntary step backwards.

"Sire," Grigor addressed him from a safe distance hands resting lightly on his hips expression thoughtful. "If there isn't anything more needed from Sarah I thought we might send for her family and Rolfe's. I can tell his parents what's happened. There's also John to consider. I don't imagine he needs a trial."

"He can have a trial; he can have his trial by ordeal." Arthur felt a bit of satisfaction at the bloodthirsty thought.

"I would like to raise the possibility that the men may also have been compelled."

He had not considered this.

"How would we tell such a thing?"

Arthur's eyes roamed the room and landed on Gaius. Sarah had grown quiet and the older man had moved the young woman from her seat at the table to a narrow bench and draped one of Arthur's linens about her shoulders.

"Gaius," Arthur strode toward the physician leaving Merlin and Grigor to follow. "Is it possible that the men were also affected by the bracelet?"

The older man leaned forward palms resting on his knees.

"It's difficult to say sire. That would be awfully powerful magic and I don't believe it's that powerful. We should question John but I don't know that his testimony alone would be enough to base a decision on."

"Excuse sire if I may?" Enid spoke up clearly she had an idea of some sort.

"Go ahead."

She addressed the Magistrate "You said you took statements from the women did you also take statements from their lovers?"

"Yes, yes I did." A smile lit the elder man's dark face "You're thinking they might have some common language that betrays enchantment as well."

Enid nodded grinning back at him.

"I don't remember any such similarity but it's worth a look." Grigor opened his log and lowered his long frame into one of the chairs "I write down all the salient points. Enid?" He extended several sheets toward her.

She shook her head negative and he extended them toward Merlin and Arthur. Arthur read what the magistrate gave him and then passed them to the others for further review.

There was a similarity but not of the sort that suggest compulsion.

"Did you see that? No way I was gonna turn that down."

"My wife's gotten old and shrewish and I've always wanted to lay with Anne."

"Sweet thing was all over me. What else was I gonna do? What would you have done?"

"Did none of them refuse?" Merlin declared in disgust.

"If they did there'd be no affair, no statement." The magistrate shrugged.

"These don't read like statements of men under enchantment, just men with no honor." Arthur said at last and there were nods all around. Silence descended for a while "Still if none of them resisted and I would hope at least one of them would, that in and of itself seems suspicious."

Everyone was silent for a while.

"We'll question the women again." Grigor said, "Find out how they came to be in possession of the bracelet. If they got it from someone not in the logs then we talk to them find out if they were any near affairs. That should answer whether or no the men were enchanted."

"Yes, I think it would."

Enid yawned loud and hard.

"Sorry," she said.

"We've kept you away from your family for far too long I think Madame."

"Oh I don't mind sire. I'm glad I was able to help."

"You were more than helpful Enid. You were instrumental," Arthur said realizing that Enid had had it right from the beginning, Morgana certainly qualified as angry noble.

She smiled "I don't know, sire I-" her hazel eyes went wide at something over his shoulder. "Sarah?"

Arthur turned his head and felt his own eyes grow wide. While they'd all been distracted trying to work out the last few details of the situation Sarah had slipped away from Gaius and now stood in the frame of one of his windows.

"Don't!" Arthur was on his feet and running toward her in the winking of an eye the others only a breath behind. But she was stepping into thin air and meeting her fate long before they reached her.

For a long moment Arthur stared down at her body. She was broken it seemed in a hundred different places. Limbs bent at strange unnatural angles, eyes sightless, it looked so painful. He sighed and crouched beside her. He wanted to speak but the heaviness of his heart would not let him part his lips. Arthur ignored the crowd gathering in the courtyard and touched gentle fingertips to her lids. He shut her eyes and covered her face with the rough white canvass.

"Sarah," he muttered a quick prayer and covered her with the canvass. The Reapers would be here for her body very soon. Arthur thought briefly of their families hers, Rolfe's, John's…He suddenly didn't want John's blood. This situation would not have existed were it not for Morgana and his own failure in halting this at its very beginning.

But John had been under no enchantment. He'd acted of his own will both when he committed adultery with Sarah and again when he picked up that knife. Arthur considered the facts. He would hand John over to Grigor and let the manor court decide John's fate the crimes were under his jurisdiction after all.

Gaius would test the bracelet and find it magical. He have to address would address the men and women of his city encourage then to make peace with one and other and mend their marriages. There would be pardons issued and his efforts to find Guinevere would be redoubled. Arthur lifted her ring from the place where it now resided on a silver chain above his heart. He looked toward heavens and placed a gentle kiss on the silver band. He spared a glance for the white canvas covering Sarah and sighed.

Where ever you are Guinevere you mustn't give up, please don't ever give up. No matter what happens you must live.

   The Exile,

-Part II, Chapter XIII-

Of Friends, Families and Magic

            Guinevere braided her into one long dark plait and slipped on her shoes in the dark. She didn't bother with her surcoat this morning. She slipped on a pair of her mother's earbobs as her only adornment. The simple jewelry her father had made for her mother one of the few things to stay with her as she made her way from Camelot. Ylsa was waiting for her. Gwen made her way down the stairs by memory and the pale light of early dawn.  The young midwife was sitting on the stone foyer bench, face hidden in the morning dark.

              "Come on slow poke."

               Ylsa rose and handed her a basket as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Arm-n-arm the two women left the town house, herb baskets bouncing on their hips. Their excursion was to collect the herbs that Ylsa needed for her patients as well something to help Gwen sleep.

               While there were few people in the streets, Wyeledon did not appear totally empty of human life as Camelot would at this hour.  The city guard was moving about, villagers from outlying villages were lining up at the gates and trickling in to buy or sell at the market and the fisher folk were out as well.

                The fisher folk of Wyeledon, mostly men but women also headed toward the shore in group of three, four and five.  It seemed they were of all backgrounds, in every hue, calling to each in friendly and familiar words as they walked towards, opposite the direction of Ylsa and Guinevere. Gwen heard every language amongst them. Latin of course, but also Galician, French, Welsh, Chinese even Arabic and others she didn't know.

                They were allowed to fish thrice weekly and in boats large and small boats set sail in the wee hours of the morn to return with nets filled with all manner of fish, squid, mussels and shellfish. Their catch was brought to the market by midday to appear on supper tables or be smoked and dried. The Senate was very careful about the number of fishing licenses given out and regulated the length of every fishing season and day, penalties for fisherman operating outside of those times could be high. An individual fishing for their table could do so whenever they liked.

               The two women exited the city through the western gate as the sun was still climbing above the horizon. They wanted to be finished before the heat of noon. Luisa had packed them a breakfast that they would eat a little later.

              "You remember the name of the herbs I need?" Ylsa asked as they walked.

               "Yes, water mint, red raspberry, motherwort, blessed thistle and nettle."

               "Good can you describe them and where they are most likely to be found?"

                For a moment Guinevere studied her friend's expression in the dim morning light. Gaius had taken to quizzing her like this but she hadn't expected Ylsa to do so.

                "Well come on then." Ylsa said a hint of amusement in her voice "This is a test."

                Guinevere rolled her eyes and decided to play along, thinking back to her time spent studying while she tended Uther. She took the easy ones first. Water mint and red raspberry, their properties were given away by their names and easy to identify- Water mint in particular, due to its pungent minty smell.

                "So you've got the easy ones." Ylsa smiled slightly in the pink and orange dawn light. "What about the nettle?"

                 Gwen thought a moment recalling the shape and size of the leaves as well as its beneficial properties.

                 "Besides having the effect of reducing physical discomfort, easing muscle cramps and spasms, it can be eaten for its nutritive effects and too increase the richness of milk. As well as serve as a douche to halt hemorrhaging after delivery." She recited at last.

                  "Very good. Do you remember how to gather it?"

                  "Wear gloves for the sting and snap below the third bract."

                  "Excellent." Ylsa patted her hand. They'd reached the woods by now and began working. Ylsa quizzed her as they worked. They briefly discussed the herbs that Gwen had decided upon for her sleep troubles, lavender, hops, mullein and vervain to help her sleep.

                 By the time the sun was well up and the morning advanced, they'd found everything but the Motherwort. When their stomachs started to growl, Ylsa decided it was time for a break and the two women sat down for breakfast.

                Luisa had packed them a meal of flaky, herbed smoked fish, rye bread, watercress and stew pears. Baskets beside them, the two women made themselves comfortable. Gwen set on the soft moss covered earth and leaned her back against a fallen tree giving life to moss, new plants and hungry mushrooms feasting. Ylsa sat on that same tree a pleased expression on her face.

                The forest around was the rich living green of summer. The trees were thick and full with leaves and slowly ripen fruit. Shrubs and bushes were heavy with flowers and berries, feeding insects and sheltering birds. Little creatures like rabbits, squirrels, and birds kept away from the two women but they saw a family of deer downstream and a dover of ducks moved along the water feeding and quacking to each other.

                 For a time the two women watched the animals of the forest eating in silence. Gwen savoring the warm full flavor of smoked fish. In little over a month in Wyeledon she had eaten more different types of fish and seafood than Camelot saw in a year.

                 "Other than Wyeledon have you traveled much?" Ylsa asked as they were finishing their breakfast.

                 "No," Gwen thought briefly of the times she'd been kidnapped and decided they didn't count. "Not really. What about you?"

                 "I've been to Vienna and all over the western part of the continent."

                  She considered that for a moment. Ylsa spoke with no accent she could place. Sometimes she sounded French, other times she sounded like a Gaul and still other times of Galicia but mostly she seemed to have no particular accent at all.

                  "Where is your family from?"

                  "Chateau de Beaune."

                  "So you are French?"

                  "Yes. I suppose but I haven't lived there in a long time." Her velvety brown face was thoughtful for a while. "My family served the first Charlemagne and now the Blois Duchy. They are up to their necks in politics."

                  "Oh. Do you have lots of family?"

                   "Yes," she looked at her with a small smile "lots of uncles, aunts and cousins. There is never an empty room or quiet moment in the Chateau."

                    "Don't you miss them?"

                    "Not really. I mean, I love them but I do not belong there. My family is concerned with the accumulation of power and wealth. Someone like me has no place there."

                   "Oh." Gwen very said softly thinking about how often she was alone, "It must be hard for you."

                    "Not so much. I have a twin brother that I am close to and my Aunt Marie, who is also a midwife, a few cousins that are physicians in different households. We're our own little clan within the clan."

                    "Where is your brother?  What is his name?"

                   "His name is Lucian. He is with the family. Unlike myself, he lives to scheme we still manage to see one and other from time to time."

                    "It seems sad that you should have all this family and yet you are separated from them."

                    "We would not be happy together." Both women were silent for a while "What about your family?"

                     "There are not so many of us. Before my mother died we were very happy. Even after, Elliot my brother Elyan's twin, died from meazlis outbreak we when they were just three we managed to be happy. We suffered but we were together. My mother took ill when I was about six years of age, we never really understood what was wrong. She just sickened and died." Gwen thought briefly on how her father had sent she and Elyan to live with their Aunt Mary and Uncle John during those last few months. "For a long time it was just me, my father and my brother Elyan. My mother's family is scattered over the countryside but my father was a blacksmith. There is little work for a blacksmith in the country."

                   "No. I suppose not. Are you close to them, your father and brother I mean?"

                   Gwen thought about the way Elyan had looked at her on that last morning in Camelot, thought about all the ways she had disappointed him.

                   "Father and I were very close until the day he died. That was some years ago."

                   "I'm sorry about your mother and father," Ylsa squeezed her arm gently.

                   "It's been some years now. I'm used to it." Gwen said. Both women fell silent watching the little stream flow along listening to the birdsong.

                    "What about your brother Elyan?"

                    Gwen took a breath "When he was young, we were very different, very close. We played together as all children do and confided in one and other. Everything changed though when Padrig was accused of sorcery." Gwen drew her knees up to her chest. "Padrig was his best friend and truly they were more than that, more like brothers. I think Padrig filled the hole in his life when Elliot died. They were just fourteen when Padrig was burnt at the stake." She paused and licked her lips before continuing. "Elyan believed and probably rightly so that Padrig was innocent. He lost faith in everyone and everything after that."

                 "How horrible!" Ylsa hugged herself and rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. "But why should that divide the three of you?"

                 Gwen sighed, surprised that she suddenly wanted to talk about this.

                 "At the time I was handmaid to the king's ward Morgana," Gwen looked out over the stream "Elyan felt that Morgana might convince the king that Padrig was not guilty. He wanted me to talk to her ask for her help."

                 "Did you?"

                 "No," she paused "I didn't," she had never actually told anyone this story. "Our father forbid it. He said it was already suspicious enough that Elyan was such a close friend to someone accused of sorcery. We did not need to draw the king's eye to us."

                 "Would it have? Helped or hurt I mean?"

                 "Truthfully, I don't know. Sometimes Morgana could sway him and sometimes she could not." Gwen shook her head, still disappointed in her sixteen year-old self. "I was afraid though and I remembered how broken my father was after our mother died. I risk couldn't bringing that on him again. Elyan didn't see it that way though. He ran away a few days later. There has been no closeness between us since that time. Instead a gulf has grown and we seem to be filling it with sharp edged disappointment."  Gwen swallowed feeling as if she might cry for just a moment.

                 She felt Ylsa's hand run soothingly up and down her arm.

                 "Jen, look at me.

                 "What?" She turned heard, met her friend's eyes.

                  "Your father wanted to protect his family. You did you duty as good daughter. It's not your fault. It's the fault of a king who burned children at the stake and any that tried to defend them."

                   "Yeah," Gwen said not at all convinced.

                   The two women fell silent.  Gwen let her eyes wander downstream, two of the ducks were squawking now fighting over a worm or some such. A family of raccoons crossed their path; babies bobbing along behind their mother, fluffy tails billowing behind them.

                    "Just a moment, you were handmaiden to Morgana? The Lady Morgana? The witch!?"

                    Gwen rolled her eyes.

                    "No wonder you don't want to serve in another house but there are plenty of sane normal families out there."

                    "I'm certain."

                    "Maybe," Ylsa said slowly "Morgana is your enemy?"

                    "What!?" Gwen turned on her friend with a sharp-eyed stare, incredulous at the thought.

                    "Well, Matilde said "your enemy's victory shall be HER bane." Morgana is a her and everyone knows how she overthrew her father and such."

                    "Oh yes, that must be it because I only know one woman in all the wide world."

                    "Of course not Gwen but-"

                    "No, I don't have any enemies and if I did they certainly would not be Morgana. I'm a nothing to her, a no one, a servant." Guinevere shook her head. "Once she might have called me a friend but if I ever harbored any illusions that I was anything more than a servant to her it was soon made plain that that was not so." Gwen said thinking of the way her relationship Morgana had changed in that last year, the way Morgana who seemed to have once cared a great deal for her thought of her less and less. "I'm not important enough to be enemy to Morgana. And no one has done anything to me, had any victory over me." Gwen got to her feet and picked up her basket. "Are we about done?"

                 Without waiting for an answer Guinevere turned to start back toward the city.

                  "Jen just a second, Matilde's fortunes are-" Ylsa shrieked and Gwen turned to see that a bandit had grabbed the other woman round the waist and was pressing a very sharp looking blade against her throat.

                  "I want your money!"

                  "Of course," she sat the basket down and slipped the purse from her belt.

                  "Open it."

                  "Here now release her," Gwen did as the man said and dumped the contents into her palm, ten coppers.

                  "That's all you got?"

                  "Sorry," Gwen couldn't keep a hint of exasperation out of her town "we're out picking herbs for goodness's sake. What did you expect treasure? You've got our purses; now please just let us go." He looked them over for a moment and Gwen glanced at Ylsa trying to see how the other woman was holding up.

                 Strangely she saw no sign of fear in Ylsa's face. The midwife's eyes had been trained on the bandit since this whole thing had begun. She looked, Gwen thought, as if she were trying to concentrate on something.

                 "Very well take off you dress."

                 Gwen snapped her attention back to the bandit.

                 "What!"

                 "I'm sure it will fetch a good price."

                 "No! You have our money let us go." Guinevere insisted

                 "Do it or I'll cut your friend." He pressed the blade against Ylsa's throat and Gwen saw the thinnest line of red. Ylsa however didn't seem to notice, didn't even make a sound.  Her big dark eyes shut for the briefest second.

                 "You don't look so good," Ylsa said it to the bandit her voice lilting almost sing-song as it sometimes was.

                 "What?" He looked down at her.

                 "You look a little green actually."

                 Gwen thought perhaps she saw a bit of fear creep into the bandits's expression.

                 "Shut-up!"

                  She hadn't noticed before but he did look just a bit green.

                 "I'm a healer. If you're ill, I might be able to help you. Is your stomach bothering you?"

                  He swallowed and Gwen watched them feeling almost mesmerized by what she was witnessing.

                  "Perhaps you're feeling a bit dizzy." He stared down at her and Gwen could see the bandits grip go slack. Ylsa slipped out of his hold and a moment later the bandit collapsed. Gwen was at her friend's side immediately.

                   "I'm fine." Her words were soft and breathless. "Go tie him up so we can tell the guard." The other women sunk into sitting position.

                   "Are you certain you're all right?"

                   "I'm fine. The merchants are very serious about keeping these woods free of bandits and highwaymen; there is even a reward, so go and tie him up so we can collect it."

                   The bandit did look sickly and Gwen found his skin hot to the touch. Fevers usually didn't come on so quickly.

                   The man groaned and looked her. "Your friend said she would help me."

                  "Oh now that means something to you," Gwen said and tied his belt extra hard round his wrist.

                  She bound his feet with a strip of cloth she cut from his tunic. The she went back to Ylsa, who was sitting with her head between her knees.

                 "Now you're sick!"

                  "I'm fine," She looked up bleary eyed "just tired from the heat and the excitement."

                  "Of course."

                  "Come let's get back to town."

                    Guinevere helped Ylsa to her feet and grabbing their baskets the two women hurried back. By the time they reached the city gates Ylsa seemed better and Gwen began to relax. They told the guard on duty and he took them to his captain. The captain smiled at their news and sent Gwen with another guard to collect the bandit.  Strangely enough when they found him his fever seemed to have lessened and he no longer looked so green.

                "I thought you said he was ill?"

                "He seemed ill," Gwen shrugged and remembered the way Ylsa had been looking at him, "I suppose we were confused."

                "No! They're witches. The other one, the dark one made me sick!" The guard looked from the bandit to her.

                "You hold your tongue." Gwen glared down at him. "You tried to rob and rape us. You threatened my friend at knife point and because we were lucky enough that you had a fainting spell she is a witch? Thank god you got sick."

                The guardsmen nodded "Sides," he said "it's not like witchery is illegal, preying on our god citizens." The guardsmen forced him to his feet. "Even if she is serves you right."

               "But they-"

               "Shut it!" The guardsmen clouted the bandit on the head. "You're lucky that's all she did. If you'd of tried to take my dress I'd have done far more than make you sick, you piece of filth." He added the last in a grumble and the bandit fell.

               They started back to the city.

               "Attacking young women out to gather herbs for medicine people these days," the guardsmen shook his head "You ladies take me along next time and you won't have to worry about this kind of trouble." He gave her a small smile and Gwen realized he was trying to flirt with her.

               "Thank you."

               "I mean it. Next time you go out for herbs come an' see me first."

               "Okay," she said humoring him.

               They chatted amicably enough all the way back to the guardhouse. He recognized her accent as being from Camelot and complimented her dress. He told her a bit about his plan to get himself promoted to squad leader and then captain mentioning how well it paid. Guinevere listened politely feeling just a tad relieved when they returned to the guardhouse and he had to leave her to do his job.

               Another guard took her to an office where she signed for the reward with their captain who then directed her to Ylsa.

               She found the other woman munching on a plate of shrimp and cabbage swimming in butter and parsley, a bandage on her neck.

             "You just ate." Guinevere remarked and Ylsa shrugged.

             "I was still a bit hungry."

             Gwen eyed the tiny woman and shook her head. "Feeling better?"

            "Very much, thank you. The cut is just a scratch but I figured better safe than sorry." The midwife wiped her hands on a cloth napkin. "And one of these lovely guards was kind enough to get me this delicious lunch." Ylsa fluttered her eyelashes and Gwen laughed.

            "I'll wager he was."

            "Did they give you the reward?"Ylsa asked.

            "Ten silver pieces."

            "Wonderful, shall we split it?"

            Gwen studied her friend a moment before nodding.

           She should save her half of the money but remembering all of those beautiful, inexpensive bolts of fabric in the market was giving her other ideas.

          "The shrimp are delicious have one," Ylsa motioned toward her plate and Gwen took a shrimp with a bit of reluctance. To think she had been worried about the weight she'd lost on the road.

          Gwen waited while Ylsa finished her lunch and then arm-n-arm started back to the townhouse.

           The streets were now crowded with people going about their business under the noon day sun. They passed the same shops, inns and churches that Gwen had seen on her first day in Wyeledon. The sea salt tang was strong in the air. The two women made their way through the crowded streets walking arm-n-arm as much for friendliness as for protection. They were both of them short enough to be easily overlooked.

            "What are you going to do with you half of the reward money? I know! You're gonna be smart and responsible and save it right?" Ylsa teased.

              Guinevere rolled her eyes "Perhaps." She could not deny that was what she had been thinking.

              "I know what you truly want to do is go down to the market and spend it on bolts of fabric and ribbon."

              Ylsa grinned and Gwen wanted to return it but she couldn't.

              -"She's a witch!"-

              She wanted to dismiss the bandit's words as anger but she couldn't dismiss the way Ylsa had looked at him, the way he'd fallen sick even as she said it. She drew in a breath. What if Ylsa was a witch?

              "Are you unwell Jen?"

              "Hmm?"

              "You looked ashen for a just a moment."

              "I-I-" She thought about all the ways she'd seen magic hurt someone, hurt people she cared about over and over again.

              "It doesn't seem strange to you at all?"

              "What?" Ylsa looked at her expression perplexed.

              "The bandit, the way he fell sick. Doesn't it seem strange to you?" Gwen explained.

              "Strange?" Ylsa shook her head; expression bemused "No, it seems lucky, like a blessing."

              They turned the corner and the wind came off the sea blowing hard, a salty tang in the air.

              "I suppose. It just seemed..."Gwen shook her head.

              "He's a bandit Jen, he lives in the woods. He probably eats bad food all the time." Ylsa waved a dismissing hand.

              "That makes sense, but" Gwen recalled the frightening intensity with which Ylsa had stared at him. As if her gaze alone could hurt him. "The way you were looking him, concentrating. Why were you staring at him like that?"

              "I was watching the person holding a knife at my throat." Ylsa said it as if no other explanation were required.

              "But you didn't seem to be worried about the knife at all." Gwen pulled her arm from Ylsa's. "You looked as if you were concentrating, trying to- I don't... trying to do something-"Gwen said unable to bring herself to give voice to the things she was thinking.

              "Yes, I was concentrating on determining a way to keep us from being raped and killed. He wanted your dress for goodness sake!"

              Gwen rolled her eyes "All right but when we came back to collect him, he wasn't ill at all! No natural sickness comes and goes that way.  He fell sick as you said it, as if you made him sick."

              "Don't be ridiculous Jen. A man trying to hurt us fell sick. He's a bandit for goodness's sake, he lives in the woods. He probably ate bad food and that is what made him fall it." she started walking again "We should buy some ribbon and perhaps cologne." Ylsa called over her shoulder.

              "Ylsa that's not what happened?" Gwen insisted growing frustrated.

"Of course it is."

              For a moment Gwen considered dropping the subject all together. After all, they had been neither robbed nor hurt, but "magic is evil, magic corrupts". She thought about Morgana, the way the other woman had changed. She thought of Morgana using her power against them and felt her stomach twist with tension and fear. Gwen started walking and caught up to the other woman.

              "You made him sick," she accused. If she was living with a magic user she needed to know.

              "And how would I do something like that?" Ylsa crossed her arms; dark eyes wide and waiting.

              Gwen swallowed not wanting to speak but remembering how she erred with Morgana, ignored the signs.

              "With magic," the words came out in a harsh whisper.

              "I see, with magic." Ylsa's jaw tightened and her hands balled into fist. "Would it be wrong if I had? This isn't Camelot. Magic is not illegal here."

              "I know that!" Gwen shot back.

              "That bothers you though, doesn't it?" Ylsa said, a look of realization spreading over her face.

              "Perhaps a little," Gwen admitted.

              "Because you think it should be illegal." Ylsa's eyes narrowed "Perhaps people should be being burnt at the stake?"

              "No, no! The purge was terrible, but..." Gwen fell silent suddenly uncertain.

              "But if magic is illegal and people defy the law you have to do something?" Ylsa probed.

              "Well, yes, of course."

              "Of course," for the briefest moment Ylsa looked sad but then her face grew hard and relentless. "Do you hate magic users Jen?"

              "No. I don't hate anybody."

              "Don't you. There are so many places where magic users are hunted, persecuted, barely tolerated and you would have Wyeledon as one of those places."

              This was ridiculous. Magic was evil, corrupting and dangerous. Yes, the purge was terrible but she had seen no good come of magic.

              "What do people use magic for expect to take power over others? Magic corrupts all good. Of course it's banned and people who violate such a ban must also be evil."

              "Ohh," Ylsa drew back "sounds like hatred to me," there was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

              "I told you, I don't hate anybody," Guinevere rolled her eyes.

              Ylsa's eyes narrowed, "People like you are so blinded to the truth they don't know what they feel half the damned time."

              "People like me?" Gwen stared askance.

              "Yes, people like you!" Ylsa continued "You think you know everything about everything. I know about your precious Camelot, I know how it was attacked time and again by magic users. How Morgana overthrew her father out of fear." Ylsa's eyes narrowed "I bet you hate Morgana."

              "Hate is not what I feel for that woman, in spite of what she has done to my home."

              "Truly?" Ylsa's tone was mocking now. "You don't hate anyone? But all those other magic users, those tortured people trying to overthrow an oppressive rule that persecuted them, you seemed to hate them?"

              Gwen thought for a moment did she hate those people?

              "No, I feel nothing for them," she said firmly. "I don't hate anybody. Hate is not a part of any motive that I have regarding magic. Magic using people have attacked my home time and time again. They are dangerous and that is why magic is banned."

              Ylsa looked down for a moment. "You say you don't hate anybody not even these magic users that attacked your home, your family and your friends." Ylsa lifted her head and met her eyes "What of the person that made you leave your home, your family and your friends? I'd wager you hate that person."       

The words fell like a slap and Gwen felt herself shrink inside. She looked down for a moment and very calmly Gwen slipped the herb basket from where it hung in the crook of her arm.

"Take this," she thrust it in Ylsa direction, and then raised her head to look her square in the eyes. "You don't know shit, about shit." Gwen hissed, turned and stalked off, away from Ylsa and away from the townhouse.

This was a short one.I hope you guys enjoyed it, next chapter follows soon and remember you comments are always welcome.

   The Exile,

-Part II, Chapter XIII-

Of Friends, Families and Magic

            Guinevere braided her into one long dark plait and slipped on her shoes in the dark. She didn't bother with her surcoat this morning. She slipped on a pair of her mother's earbobs as her only adornment. The simple jewelry her father had made for her mother one of the few things to stay with her as she made her way from Camelot. Ylsa was waiting for her. Gwen made her way down the stairs by memory and the pale light of early dawn.  The young midwife was sitting on the stone foyer bench, face hidden in the morning dark.

              "Come on slow poke."

               Ylsa rose and handed her a basket as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Arm-n-arm the two women left the town house, herb baskets bouncing on their hips. Their excursion was to collect the herbs that Ylsa needed for her patients as well something to help Gwen sleep.

               While there were few people in the streets, Wyeledon did not appear totally empty of human life as Camelot would at this hour.  The city guard was moving about, villagers from outlying villages were lining up at the gates and trickling in to buy or sell at the market and the fisher folk were out as well.

                The fisher folk of Wyeledon, mostly men but women also headed toward the shore in group of three, four and five.  It seemed they were of all backgrounds, in every hue, calling to each in friendly and familiar words as they walked towards, opposite the direction of Ylsa and Guinevere. Gwen heard every language amongst them. Latin of course, but also Galician, French, Welsh, Chinese even Arabic and others she didn't know.

                They were allowed to fish thrice weekly and in boats large and small boats set sail in the wee hours of the morn to return with nets filled with all manner of fish, squid, mussels and shellfish. Their catch was brought to the market by midday to appear on supper tables or be smoked and dried. The Senate was very careful about the number of fishing licenses given out and regulated the length of every fishing season and day, penalties for fisherman operating outside of those times could be high. An individual fishing for their table could do so whenever they liked.

               The two women exited the city through the western gate as the sun was still climbing above the horizon. They wanted to be finished before the heat of noon. Luisa had packed them a breakfast that they would eat a little later.

              "You remember the name of the herbs I need?" Ylsa asked as they walked.

               "Yes, water mint, red raspberry, motherwort, blessed thistle and nettle."

               "Good can you describe them and where they are most likely to be found?"

                For a moment Guinevere studied her friend's expression in the dim morning light. Gaius had taken to quizzing her like this but she hadn't expected Ylsa to do so.

                "Well come on then." Ylsa said a hint of amusement in her voice "This is a test."

                Guinevere rolled her eyes and decided to play along, thinking back to her time spent studying while she tended Uther. She took the easy ones first. Water mint and red raspberry, their properties were given away by their names and easy to identify- Water mint in particular, due to its pungent minty smell.

                "So you've got the easy ones." Ylsa smiled slightly in the pink and orange dawn light. "What about the nettle?"

                 Gwen thought a moment recalling the shape and size of the leaves as well as its beneficial properties.

                 "Besides having the effect of reducing physical discomfort, easing muscle cramps and spasms, it can be eaten for its nutritive effects and too increase the richness of milk. As well as serve as a douche to halt hemorrhaging after delivery." She recited at last.

                  "Very good. Do you remember how to gather it?"

                  "Wear gloves for the sting and snap below the third bract."

                  "Excellent." Ylsa patted her hand. They'd reached the woods by now and began working. Ylsa quizzed her as they worked. They briefly discussed the herbs that Gwen had decided upon for her sleep troubles, lavender, hops, mullein and vervain to help her sleep.

                 By the time the sun was well up and the morning advanced, they'd found everything but the Motherwort. When their stomachs started to growl, Ylsa decided it was time for a break and the two women sat down for breakfast.

                Luisa had packed them a meal of flaky, herbed smoked fish, rye bread, watercress and stew pears. Baskets beside them, the two women made themselves comfortable. Gwen set on the soft moss covered earth and leaned her back against a fallen tree giving life to moss, new plants and hungry mushrooms feasting. Ylsa sat on that same tree a pleased expression on her face.

                The forest around was the rich living green of summer. The trees were thick and full with leaves and slowly ripen fruit. Shrubs and bushes were heavy with flowers and berries, feeding insects and sheltering birds. Little creatures like rabbits, squirrels, and birds kept away from the two women but they saw a family of deer downstream and a dover of ducks moved along the water feeding and quacking to each other.

                 For a time the two women watched the animals of the forest eating in silence. Gwen savoring the warm full flavor of smoked fish. In little over a month in Wyeledon she had eaten more different types of fish and seafood than Camelot saw in a year.

                 "Other than Wyeledon have you traveled much?" Ylsa asked as they were finishing their breakfast.

                 "No," Gwen thought briefly of the times she'd been kidnapped and decided they didn't count. "Not really. What about you?"

                 "I've been to Vienna and all over the western part of the continent."

                  She considered that for a moment. Ylsa spoke with no accent she could place. Sometimes she sounded French, other times she sounded like a Gaul and still other times of Galicia but mostly she seemed to have no particular accent at all.

                  "Where is your family from?"

                  "Chateau de Beaune."

                  "So you are French?"

                  "Yes. I suppose but I haven't lived there in a long time." Her velvety brown face was thoughtful for a while. "My family served the first Charlemagne and now the Blois Duchy. They are up to their necks in politics."

                  "Oh. Do you have lots of family?"

                   "Yes," she looked at her with a small smile "lots of uncles, aunts and cousins. There is never an empty room or quiet moment in the Chateau."

                    "Don't you miss them?"

                    "Not really. I mean, I love them but I do not belong there. My family is concerned with the accumulation of power and wealth. Someone like me has no place there."

                   "Oh." Gwen very said softly thinking about how often she was alone, "It must be hard for you."

                    "Not so much. I have a twin brother that I am close to and my Aunt Marie, who is also a midwife, a few cousins that are physicians in different households. We're our own little clan within the clan."

                    "Where is your brother?  What is his name?"

                   "His name is Lucian. He is with the family. Unlike myself, he lives to scheme we still manage to see one and other from time to time."

                    "It seems sad that you should have all this family and yet you are separated from them."

                    "We would not be happy together." Both women were silent for a while "What about your family?"

                     "There are not so many of us. Before my mother died we were very happy. Even after, Elliot my brother Elyan's twin, died from meazlis outbreak we when they were just three we managed to be happy. We suffered but we were together. My mother took ill when I was about six years of age, we never really understood what was wrong. She just sickened and died." Gwen thought briefly on how her father had sent she and Elyan to live with their Aunt Mary and Uncle John during those last few months. "For a long time it was just me, my father and my brother Elyan. My mother's family is scattered over the countryside but my father was a blacksmith. There is little work for a blacksmith in the country."

                   "No. I suppose not. Are you close to them, your father and brother I mean?"

                   Gwen thought about the way Elyan had looked at her on that last morning in Camelot, thought about all the ways she had disappointed him.

                   "Father and I were very close until the day he died. That was some years ago."

                   "I'm sorry about your mother and father," Ylsa squeezed her arm gently.

                   "It's been some years now. I'm used to it." Gwen said. Both women fell silent watching the little stream flow along listening to the birdsong.

                    "What about your brother Elyan?"

                    Gwen took a breath "When he was young, we were very different, very close. We played together as all children do and confided in one and other. Everything changed though when Padrig was accused of sorcery." Gwen drew her knees up to her chest. "Padrig was his best friend and truly they were more than that, more like brothers. I think Padrig filled the hole in his life when Elliot died. They were just fourteen when Padrig was burnt at the stake." She paused and licked her lips before continuing. "Elyan believed and probably rightly so that Padrig was innocent. He lost faith in everyone and everything after that."

                 "How horrible!" Ylsa hugged herself and rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. "But why should that divide the three of you?"

                 Gwen sighed, surprised that she suddenly wanted to talk about this.

                 "At the time I was handmaid to the king's ward Morgana," Gwen looked out over the stream "Elyan felt that Morgana might convince the king that Padrig was not guilty. He wanted me to talk to her ask for her help."

                 "Did you?"

                 "No," she paused "I didn't," she had never actually told anyone this story. "Our father forbid it. He said it was already suspicious enough that Elyan was such a close friend to someone accused of sorcery. We did not need to draw the king's eye to us."

                 "Would it have? Helped or hurt I mean?"

                 "Truthfully, I don't know. Sometimes Morgana could sway him and sometimes she could not." Gwen shook her head, still disappointed in her sixteen year-old self. "I was afraid though and I remembered how broken my father was after our mother died. I risk couldn't bringing that on him again. Elyan didn't see it that way though. He ran away a few days later. There has been no closeness between us since that time. Instead a gulf has grown and we seem to be filling it with sharp edged disappointment."  Gwen swallowed feeling as if she might cry for just a moment.

                 She felt Ylsa's hand run soothingly up and down her arm.

                 "Jen, look at me.

                 "What?" She turned heard, met her friend's eyes.

                  "Your father wanted to protect his family. You did you duty as good daughter. It's not your fault. It's the fault of a king who burned children at the stake and any that tried to defend them."

                   "Yeah," Gwen said not at all convinced.

                   The two women fell silent.  Gwen let her eyes wander downstream, two of the ducks were squawking now fighting over a worm or some such. A family of raccoons crossed their path; babies bobbing along behind their mother, fluffy tails billowing behind them.

                    "Just a moment, you were handmaiden to Morgana? The Lady Morgana? The witch!?"

                    Gwen rolled her eyes.

                    "No wonder you don't want to serve in another house but there are plenty of sane normal families out there."

                    "I'm certain."

                    "Maybe," Ylsa said slowly "Morgana is your enemy?"

                    "What!?" Gwen turned on her friend with a sharp-eyed stare, incredulous at the thought.

                    "Well, Matilde said "your enemy's victory shall be HER bane." Morgana is a her and everyone knows how she overthrew her father and such."

                    "Oh yes, that must be it because I only know one woman in all the wide world."

                    "Of course not Gwen but-"

                    "No, I don't have any enemies and if I did they certainly would not be Morgana. I'm a nothing to her, a no one, a servant." Guinevere shook her head. "Once she might have called me a friend but if I ever harbored any illusions that I was anything more than a servant to her it was soon made plain that that was not so." Gwen said thinking of the way her relationship Morgana had changed in that last year, the way Morgana who seemed to have once cared a great deal for her thought of her less and less. "I'm not important enough to be enemy to Morgana. And no one has done anything to me, had any victory over me." Gwen got to her feet and picked up her basket. "Are we about done?"

                 Without waiting for an answer Guinevere turned to start back toward the city.

                  "Jen just a second, Matilde's fortunes are-" Ylsa shrieked and Gwen turned to see that a bandit had grabbed the other woman round the waist and was pressing a very sharp looking blade against her throat.

                  "I want your money!"

                  "Of course," she sat the basket down and slipped the purse from her belt.

                  "Open it."

                  "Here now release her," Gwen did as the man said and dumped the contents into her palm, ten coppers.

                  "That's all you got?"

                  "Sorry," Gwen couldn't keep a hint of exasperation out of her town "we're out picking herbs for goodness's sake. What did you expect treasure? You've got our purses; now please just let us go." He looked them over for a moment and Gwen glanced at Ylsa trying to see how the other woman was holding up.

                 Strangely she saw no sign of fear in Ylsa's face. The midwife's eyes had been trained on the bandit since this whole thing had begun. She looked, Gwen thought, as if she were trying to concentrate on something.

                 "Very well take off you dress."

                 Gwen snapped her attention back to the bandit.

                 "What!"

                 "I'm sure it will fetch a good price."

                 "No! You have our money let us go." Guinevere insisted

                 "Do it or I'll cut your friend." He pressed the blade against Ylsa's throat and Gwen saw the thinnest line of red. Ylsa however didn't seem to notice, didn't even make a sound.  Her big dark eyes shut for the briefest second.

                 "You don't look so good," Ylsa said it to the bandit her voice lilting almost sing-song as it sometimes was.

                 "What?" He looked down at her.

                 "You look a little green actually."

                 Gwen thought perhaps she saw a bit of fear creep into the bandits's expression.

                 "Shut-up!"

                  She hadn't noticed before but he did look just a bit green.

                 "I'm a healer. If you're ill, I might be able to help you. Is your stomach bothering you?"

                  He swallowed and Gwen watched them feeling almost mesmerized by what she was witnessing.

                  "Perhaps you're feeling a bit dizzy." He stared down at her and Gwen could see the bandits grip go slack. Ylsa slipped out of his hold and a moment later the bandit collapsed. Gwen was at her friend's side immediately.

                   "I'm fine." Her words were soft and breathless. "Go tie him up so we can tell the guard." The other women sunk into sitting position.

                   "Are you certain you're all right?"

                   "I'm fine. The merchants are very serious about keeping these woods free of bandits and highwaymen; there is even a reward, so go and tie him up so we can collect it."

                   The bandit did look sickly and Gwen found his skin hot to the touch. Fevers usually didn't come on so quickly.

                   The man groaned and looked her. "Your friend said she would help me."

                  "Oh now that means something to you," Gwen said and tied his belt extra hard round his wrist.

                  She bound his feet with a strip of cloth she cut from his tunic. The she went back to Ylsa, who was sitting with her head between her knees.

                 "Now you're sick!"

                  "I'm fine," She looked up bleary eyed "just tired from the heat and the excitement."

                  "Of course."

                  "Come let's get back to town."

                    Guinevere helped Ylsa to her feet and grabbing their baskets the two women hurried back. By the time they reached the city gates Ylsa seemed better and Gwen began to relax. They told the guard on duty and he took them to his captain. The captain smiled at their news and sent Gwen with another guard to collect the bandit.  Strangely enough when they found him his fever seemed to have lessened and he no longer looked so green.

                "I thought you said he was ill?"

                "He seemed ill," Gwen shrugged and remembered the way Ylsa had been looking at him, "I suppose we were confused."

                "No! They're witches. The other one, the dark one made me sick!" The guard looked from the bandit to her.

                "You hold your tongue." Gwen glared down at him. "You tried to rob and rape us. You threatened my friend at knife point and because we were lucky enough that you had a fainting spell she is a witch? Thank god you got sick."

                The guardsmen nodded "Sides," he said "it's not like witchery is illegal, preying on our god citizens." The guardsmen forced him to his feet. "Even if she is serves you right."

               "But they-"

               "Shut it!" The guardsmen clouted the bandit on the head. "You're lucky that's all she did. If you'd of tried to take my dress I'd have done far more than make you sick, you piece of filth." He added the last in a grumble and the bandit fell.

               They started back to the city.

               "Attacking young women out to gather herbs for medicine people these days," the guardsmen shook his head "You ladies take me along next time and you won't have to worry about this kind of trouble." He gave her a small smile and Gwen realized he was trying to flirt with her.

               "Thank you."

               "I mean it. Next time you go out for herbs come an' see me first."

               "Okay," she said humoring him.

               They chatted amicably enough all the way back to the guardhouse. He recognized her accent as being from Camelot and complimented her dress. He told her a bit about his plan to get himself promoted to squad leader and then captain mentioning how well it paid. Guinevere listened politely feeling just a tad relieved when they returned to the guardhouse and he had to leave her to do his job.

               Another guard took her to an office where she signed for the reward with their captain who then directed her to Ylsa.

               She found the other woman munching on a plate of shrimp and cabbage swimming in butter and parsley, a bandage on her neck.

             "You just ate." Guinevere remarked and Ylsa shrugged.

             "I was still a bit hungry."

             Gwen eyed the tiny woman and shook her head. "Feeling better?"

            "Very much, thank you. The cut is just a scratch but I figured better safe than sorry." The midwife wiped her hands on a cloth napkin. "And one of these lovely guards was kind enough to get me this delicious lunch." Ylsa fluttered her eyelashes and Gwen laughed.

            "I'll wager he was."

            "Did they give you the reward?"Ylsa asked.

            "Ten silver pieces."

            "Wonderful, shall we split it?"

            Gwen studied her friend a moment before nodding.

           She should save her half of the money but remembering all of those beautiful, inexpensive bolts of fabric in the market was giving her other ideas.

          "The shrimp are delicious have one," Ylsa motioned toward her plate and Gwen took a shrimp with a bit of reluctance. To think she had been worried about the weight she'd lost on the road.

          Gwen waited while Ylsa finished her lunch and then arm-n-arm started back to the townhouse.

           The streets were now crowded with people going about their business under the noon day sun. They passed the same shops, inns and churches that Gwen had seen on her first day in Wyeledon. The sea salt tang was strong in the air. The two women made their way through the crowded streets walking arm-n-arm as much for friendliness as for protection. They were both of them short enough to be easily overlooked.

            "What are you going to do with you half of the reward money? I know! You're gonna be smart and responsible and save it right?" Ylsa teased.

              Guinevere rolled her eyes "Perhaps." She could not deny that was what she had been thinking.

              "I know what you truly want to do is go down to the market and spend it on bolts of fabric and ribbon."

              Ylsa grinned and Gwen wanted to return it but she couldn't.

              -"She's a witch!"-

              She wanted to dismiss the bandit's words as anger but she couldn't dismiss the way Ylsa had looked at him, the way he'd fallen sick even as she said it. She drew in a breath. What if Ylsa was a witch?

              "Are you unwell Jen?"

              "Hmm?"

              "You looked ashen for a just a moment."

              "I-I-" She thought about all the ways she'd seen magic hurt someone, hurt people she cared about over and over again.

              "It doesn't seem strange to you at all?"

              "What?" Ylsa looked at her expression perplexed.

              "The bandit, the way he fell sick. Doesn't it seem strange to you?" Gwen explained.

              "Strange?" Ylsa shook her head; expression bemused "No, it seems lucky, like a blessing."

              They turned the corner and the wind came off the sea blowing hard, a salty tang in the air.

              "I suppose. It just seemed..."Gwen shook her head.

              "He's a bandit Jen, he lives in the woods. He probably eats bad food all the time." Ylsa waved a dismissing hand.

              "That makes sense, but" Gwen recalled the frightening intensity with which Ylsa had stared at him. As if her gaze alone could hurt him. "The way you were looking him, concentrating. Why were you staring at him like that?"

              "I was watching the person holding a knife at my throat." Ylsa said it as if no other explanation were required.

              "But you didn't seem to be worried about the knife at all." Gwen pulled her arm from Ylsa's. "You looked as if you were concentrating, trying to- I don't... trying to do something-"Gwen said unable to bring herself to give voice to the things she was thinking.

              "Yes, I was concentrating on determining a way to keep us from being raped and killed. He wanted your dress for goodness sake!"

              Gwen rolled her eyes "All right but when we came back to collect him, he wasn't ill at all! No natural sickness comes and goes that way.  He fell sick as you said it, as if you made him sick."

              "Don't be ridiculous Jen. A man trying to hurt us fell sick. He's a bandit for goodness's sake, he lives in the woods. He probably ate bad food and that is what made him fall it." she started walking again "We should buy some ribbon and perhaps cologne." Ylsa called over her shoulder.

              "Ylsa that's not what happened?" Gwen insisted growing frustrated.

"Of course it is."

              For a moment Gwen considered dropping the subject all together. After all, they had been neither robbed nor hurt, but "magic is evil, magic corrupts". She thought about Morgana, the way the other woman had changed. She thought of Morgana using her power against them and felt her stomach twist with tension and fear. Gwen started walking and caught up to the other woman.

              "You made him sick," she accused. If she was living with a magic user she needed to know.

              "And how would I do something like that?" Ylsa crossed her arms; dark eyes wide and waiting.

              Gwen swallowed not wanting to speak but remembering how she erred with Morgana, ignored the signs.

              "With magic," the words came out in a harsh whisper.

              "I see, with magic." Ylsa's jaw tightened and her hands balled into fist. "Would it be wrong if I had? This isn't Camelot. Magic is not illegal here."

              "I know that!" Gwen shot back.

              "That bothers you though, doesn't it?" Ylsa said, a look of realization spreading over her face.

              "Perhaps a little," Gwen admitted.

              "Because you think it should be illegal." Ylsa's eyes narrowed "Perhaps people should be being burnt at the stake?"

              "No, no! The purge was terrible, but..." Gwen fell silent suddenly uncertain.

              "But if magic is illegal and people defy the law you have to do something?" Ylsa probed.

              "Well, yes, of course."

              "Of course," for the briefest moment Ylsa looked sad but then her face grew hard and relentless. "Do you hate magic users Jen?"

              "No. I don't hate anybody."

              "Don't you. There are so many places where magic users are hunted, persecuted, barely tolerated and you would have Wyeledon as one of those places."

              This was ridiculous. Magic was evil, corrupting and dangerous. Yes, the purge was terrible but she had seen no good come of magic.

              "What do people use magic for expect to take power over others? Magic corrupts all good. Of course it's banned and people who violate such a ban must also be evil."

              "Ohh," Ylsa drew back "sounds like hatred to me," there was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

              "I told you, I don't hate anybody," Guinevere rolled her eyes.

              Ylsa's eyes narrowed, "People like you are so blinded to the truth they don't know what they feel half the damned time."

              "People like me?" Gwen stared askance.

              "Yes, people like you!" Ylsa continued "You think you know everything about everything. I know about your precious Camelot, I know how it was attacked time and again by magic users. How Morgana overthrew her father out of fear." Ylsa's eyes narrowed "I bet you hate Morgana."

              "Hate is not what I feel for that woman, in spite of what she has done to my home."

              "Truly?" Ylsa's tone was mocking now. "You don't hate anyone? But all those other magic users, those tortured people trying to overthrow an oppressive rule that persecuted them, you seemed to hate them?"

              Gwen thought for a moment did she hate those people?

              "No, I feel nothing for them," she said firmly. "I don't hate anybody. Hate is not a part of any motive that I have regarding magic. Magic using people have attacked my home time and time again. They are dangerous and that is why magic is banned."

              Ylsa looked down for a moment. "You say you don't hate anybody not even these magic users that attacked your home, your family and your friends." Ylsa lifted her head and met her eyes "What of the person that made you leave your home, your family and your friends? I'd wager you hate that person."       

The words fell like a slap and Gwen felt herself shrink inside. She looked down for a moment and very calmly Gwen slipped the herb basket from where it hung in the crook of her arm.

"Take this," she thrust it in Ylsa direction, and then raised her head to look her square in the eyes. "You don't know shit, about shit." Gwen hissed, turned and stalked off, away from Ylsa and away from the townhouse.

This was a short one.I hope you guys enjoyed it, next chapter follows soon and remember you comments are always welcome.