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Arthur sat on his throne, somewhat intrigued as to why this foreigner had travelled so far in what was clearly desperate circumstances for an audience with him. John, was skin and bones, his clothes tattered, little more than rags. He said he was a knight, but it did not appear so.  His dark beard was wild, and his skin scratched. He was dirty and smelled like sweat, and blood and maybe infection. The man had come a beggar to Arthur’s court, but had been given the opportunity to speak to him, the king, but with only a small number of trusted knights and advisers.  Gaius, remained close, as he’d been attending to the traveler, who was in very poor shape. Sir Leon, Sir Hilden, Lancelot, Agravaine and Mordred.“I’ve come about the Holy Grail.” The man gasped, barely able to get his all-important message out, between his fatigued body betraying him and his heavy accent.“Sire,” Agravaine was quick to act, getting his attention, “You should clear the room. Only you and I should remain.”Arthur had never heard of The Holy Grail, and judging by the looks of his knights, they hadn’t either. Agravaine’s expression told him, he felt it important. Arthur had heeded this advice, ordering everyone but himself and Uncle out.John, now relieved to have a more private audience, “King Arthur, you come… you come save us.”Arthur tried not to humiliate the foreigner. “You have requested a private audience, and now you have it, Sir.”“Thank you.”“I must know what the Holy Grail is if I’m to risk my life, and the lives of my knights for it.”The man produced a scroll. The wax had no stamp of any noble house or order. Which was odd. Arthur broke the seal and read and the message. It contained little more information than John had managed to say.
To the High King of Greater Camelot, Arthur Pendragon,

We, The Order of the Rose, are the protectors of the Holy Grail. We are being besieged. Please come to our aid. The security of the Holy Grail transcends all boundaries of land, laws of man and even faith. We fear for a world in which the Holy Grail were to fall into the wrong hands.

You are bestowed this duty by God Himself, as the ruler who has allowed freedom of worship you have proven yourself worthy of the Holy Grail. Your support in our darkest hour will not be forgotten.  God calls on the righteous for such sacred duties.

Sir Nathanial,

The Order of the Rose.
The message, was full of dire words and praise, but light on specifics.Arthur commented, gesturing the message, “This doesn’t clear anything up. What is the Holy Grail?”John repeated his message over and over. “King Arthur, you come, you come save us.”Arthur tried not to belittle the man, who had clearly only been taught a few sentences of the common tongue of Albion.Arthur tried again in vain, “How many are besieging you?”“Holy Grail, must save, King Arthur.”
Yes, this is going to be a long day indeed.
After a many attempts at further questioning, with no gain, Arthur gave up. Gaius came back and led John to the physician’s quarters to rest. Arthur decided he would try again later with Mordred present. The boy’s insights would be paramount.  Arthur had Uncle Agravaine escort him back to his chambers. They continued to talk in private, while they broke bread.  Arthur sent Argyle from the room to fetch their cooked breakfast.  Argyle may have been losing his hair and round of face, but at least the manservant knew how to take orders. Unlike a former bumbling manservant who was a liar and incapable of following simple instructions!Once they were alone, Arthur sat at his table, and invited Uncle to join him.Arthur lowered his voice, turning to Uncle, “Have you heard of the Holy Grail?”Agravaine nodded, “I have, Sire.” Before warning, “Many have claimed to protect it over the years, but few actually do.”Arthur became weary of trickery.Uncle stroked his golden beard, contemplative. “You have nothing to gain, and you may be making powerful enemies, Sire.”Arthur hadn’t really considered that. Who is besieging them?Agravaine nodded, “Then it would appear to be folly to get involved with them, Sire.”But Arthur couldn’t ignore Sir John’s desperation. His suffering was very real, his starvation. His honor as a knight shone through. And these Rose Knights were clearly on the verge of perishing if Arthur didn’t come to their aid.“Are they Christians?” Arthur wondered aloud, their words in the scroll certainly suggested so.“They are,” His uncle advised, “but not… strictly in the… fashion of your Father’s Gods, Sire.”Agravaine’s expression was ominous.Agravaine held up the scroll, inspecting it closely, sniffing it, which seemed very strange to Arthur. “What did the knight say of this?”“To burn it when I was done,” Arthur repeated.Uncle picked up his breakfast plate off the table and walked closer to the hearth fire, and put the metal plate face down on the logs that were very hot and burning with a low almost red flame.“What are you doing?”
“Seeing if we should believe him,” Agravaine replied simply.He waited some time until the metal plate was almost glowing it had heated up so much and then he placed the unraveled scroll against the hot tin. Arthur came closer to look over his shoulder. The scroll wasn’t against the flames right away, but it was getting hot, and low and behold Arthur saw it. A picture of dark brown lines was emerging on the paper, the heat was bringing it out, a hidden symbol beneath the writing, that couldn’t be seen until the heat was applied.  It was a rose, a simple line drawing. The flames caught the edge and the scroll didn’t take long to go up in flames and disintegrate into ash.Agravaine spoke with authority now, “The Rose Knight is who he says he is.”Arthur wondered aloud, How did they hide a message inside the paper of the scroll, so that it only came out in the heat of the fire? Arthur had never seen such a thing. Are they magical?“Uncle,” Arthur became suspicious, “tell me all you know.”“I told you,” Agravaine became evasive, “I’ve heard of them before.”Arthur smelled a rat, “You don’t know what hidden symbols to look for in messages if you’ve heard of some secret order without some… firsthand knowledge, Uncle.” Arthur crossed his arms and looked unimpressed.“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Agravaine became flustered, “please heed me, it’s not sensible to get involved in their cause.”“Why not?”“The enemies you will make,” Uncle pleaded, “will not be worth it.”Arthur wasn’t decided on his course of action, but he wanted to know more so he could weigh his options. He demanded, “Tell me how you came across The Order of the Rose.”Agravaine looked guilty then and his eyes found the floor. “I um, well, youth is a time of folly, Sire.”“Uncle, answer the question.”Agravaine looked resigned before contritely admitting, “Your mother had some… good will towards them.”Arthur was thrown by the sudden turn of the conversation. Arthur questioned, “My mother knew about The Holy Grail?”“She knew of The Order of the Rose,” Agravaine looked pained to be speaking of it, “but it did nothing for her. I was able to help her see sense eventually.”“What do you mean by that?”Agravaine didn’t really give him the answer he sought, “She was taken with their cause for a time, but with age comes wisdom. She left Gaul and married Uther and left it all behind her, and that was best for everyone.”Arthur’s head was spinning, he could barely form a coherent thought. After a good long while he managed to ask “Would my father and mother have been at odds with each other over the Rose Knight’s quest?”“Maybe, once upon a time, but not once they wed,” Agravaine admitted, undeterred.Arthur had heard tales of his mother’s beauty far and wide, but that was about all he knew. With the exception of that tiny glimpse Morgause had allowed him some years ago now, he had nothing of her. The most precious moment of his life, having his mother hold him and tell him she loved him and didn’t blame him for her death, or had it been real? He’d been convinced afterwards by Father and Merlin that it was trickery. But in hindsight, now, Father wasn’t as honorable as Arthur had always believed, and Merlin… well he was a liar, and a poisoner, so who knew? Arthur didn’t trust Morgause, despite her being a good knight, but he wasn’t so sure now, that that vision had been a lie.Arthur excused Agravaine, he wanted to think more about it. Why was the Holy Grail important to my mother? It was clear Agravaine didn’t approve and didn’t want to speak more of it. And of course, John wasn’t saying much. Arthur had vowed not to use Mordred to violate the privacy of his own trusted advisers, and Agravaine was family, so he let it go at that. Sir John on the other hand, enjoyed no such privilege. Arthur had the boy call on him, and they visited The Rose Knight in the infirmary and asked the questions again about what the Holy Grail was and who was besieging them.  Arthur questioned Mordred about what he had heard of John’s thoughts.  But it was useless, the boy couldn’t get a read, because he didn’t understand the Gaulish language the Sir John thought in. ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) MERLIN POV))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Merlin needed to go on the Grail Quest with Arthur.  Who knows how dangerous it might be?  Arthur knew nothing of this ‘John’ or the people he represented or what the Holy Grail was.  And yet he was determined to risk his neck to help them.
That’s My Arthur!
But Merlin was in a dilemma.  Because as both Rhys and Emmitt, he had absolutely no business accompanying Arthur on this adventure.  Arthur was taking Caellan in case they needed a healer. Merlin was at present sitting in the physician’s quarters with piles of Gaius’ magic books, looking for a spell to disguise him.  This mission was so sensitive, Arthur was only taking a small group of loyal knights with him.  Meaning, Merlin couldn’t just give himself any face and pretend to be some guard.He had been going through Gaius’ book looking for another way. An invisibility spell perhaps?  But so far he’d come up with nothing.“You could do a glamour,” The old healer suggested.“What’s a glamour?” Merlin asked, the unfamiliar word caught on his tongue.“It’s a spell that allows you to take on the form of anyone, living or dead.”“I’ve never heard of that,” Merlin said.“Unlike the aging spell you’ve been doing, Merlin,” Gaius continued, “a glamour usually requires a mage stone, so long as you wear the stone and have a personal object of the person you wish to glamour and know the spell…” Gaius said, before shaking his head, “But you don’t.”“There’s got to be another way,” Merlin stated.
Gaius agreed, “There is a potion that can be made, but you need a rare berry to make it. A glamour is said to trick the eye,” Gaius said.Gaius rustled around in some musty smelling books on his back shelves.  He balanced precariously on a ladder, with Merlin concerned he was to fall.“Anyone? Living or dead?”Gaius nodded, “But it’s only temporary, and you should avoid looking glasses, as the magic only tricks the human eye.”Merlin needed to know more, “How temporary?”Gaius held up the book triumphantly. He’d found it, a recipe for a potion that produced a glamour. Gaius read from the heavy, dusty book, “the potion will wear off at sunset. And you shouldn’t drink more until sunrise.”“Why’s that?”“I don’t know, Merlin,” Gaius seemed short, “that’s what the book says.”“How do I get those… berries?”“You have to travel over the waste lands, passed the Darkling Woods, then navigate the Perilous Lands,” Gaius sounded amused as he laid out an impossible task.
“They leave the day after tomorrow, I can’t possibly!” Merlin exclaimed in his frustration, “And Arthur is only taking a hand-picked group.” He threw up his hands. It was hopeless, “He might notice, if there are suddenly two Lancelots!”“I don’t know how you’re going to pull this off,” Gaius rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment’s reprieve, “but I do have those berries, in a salted jar I’ve been keeping for years.” He smirked back at Merlin.“You’re the best!” He pulled Gaius into a warm hug, clutching him tightly.His mentor became embarrassed, but smiled meekly, “You’d better get a move on.”)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Merlin as Emmett was in the stables giving the horses their morning hay.  They would be needing it, they had a long way to travel if the gossip was to be believed. One person said they were off to the Holy City, another said Spain, someone else said Gaul, yet another said Viking country. Merlin didn’t know who to believe, but everyone agreed they were leaving the day after tomorrow. Merlin had the misfortune to step in horse dung and slipped, landing on his bottom in a loose stack of hay.  He was about to get up when he heard someone enter.  They were hooded, and looking around to check the barn was empty.  Merlin ducked down, covering himself over, as not to be seen. It smelled awful, but he wanted to know what was happening.The hooded figure must have been satisfied they were alone, because they drew back their covering.  It was Argyle, Arthur’s manservant. With his rat-like features, and balding head with wisps of red. He waited impatiently. He didn’t have a chance to think about it much more because a guard entered the stables.  He was tall and in full armor and looked like every other guard.“What do you have?” Asked the guard, his voice was low and barely above a whisper.“We leave for Gaul in two days. The Holy Grail is somewhere in Gaul.”The guard was impatient, “What else?”“Nothing yet,” Argyle was quick to say, “Arthur keeps his plans close to his chest.” The interrogation continued, “What of this John, the outsider?”“I haven’t spoken with him directly, he’s very cautious and speaks only to Arthur.”“Is he a threat?”
“I suspect so,” Argyle said, “He travels with Arthur, and I think the king will be more suspicious and careful if John were to suddenly befall an… unfortunate end.”“I’ll relay all of that.”Argyle, who was usually short of words, only nodded.The guard cautioned him, “Keep your eyes open, we require a full report when you get back.”“Aye, Sir,” Argyle replied.“I’ll leave first,” The guard said, before cautiously glancing both ways once he had the stable door open to look for anyone oncoming.
Argyle is spying against Arthur.

For whom? Who is this ‘we’ they speak of?
Merlin couldn’t follow the guard because he had to wait until Argyle left which was sometime later.
This is very bad.
Merlin followed Argyle, but he only returned to his quarters.
I never liked him!
 )))))))Merlin told Gaius what he had witnessed over supper in their quarters.“Arthur isn’t very fond of Argyle, though he does like his cooking…” Gaius mused, “However, Agravaine vouched for his good character, so to accuse him of disloyalty is to reflect poorly on our king’s beloved uncle.”“So, do you think Agravaine is who he’s spying for?” Merlin pondered.“I have no idea, Merlin,” The old man shrugged, “But you’ll need some kind of proof before you accuse Argyle of spying, and Arthur will want to know whom he’s spying for.”Merlin kept flipping through the dusty old book of magic for anything that might be useful, “What about a truth serum?”“If you want Arthur to believe you, you’d have to use it in front of him, and then… well, you’d want to find out who is involved in this… conspiracy, I dare say it’s larger than one servant and one guard.”“Why would that be bad? Arthur could find out their names and lock them up, or banish them or…” He knew the most likely consequence doled out to traitors, and it was a lot more severe than that.“The problem, if I recall,” Gaius thwarted Merlin, “with truth serums is that the person remembers afterwards, what they’ve said,” Gaius pointed out, “If Argyle is only one piece in a vast conspiracy, you might learn what he knows, but that might not be very much, but he’ll know you’re on to him, as soon as he’s accused of spying the others will know to go underground…”“But by then I’ll have the names of everyone he knows is involved. “I can think of any easier way,” Gaius spoke to Merlin as if he were a small, child, “If only the king had a mind-reading squire? What use might be made of him? Especially since the king trusts the boy so!”Mordred.  Merlin didn’t like any situation in which Arthur’s safety rested on that boy’s trustworthiness.Merlin couldn’t allow it, “Given that The Isle murdered the last king, are we even sure they are not the ones doing the spying?” )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) GWEN POV ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))“My Queen.”Lancelot cast his eyes down as he kneeled, waiting for her to hold out her hand for him to take it. Gwen internally chastised herself for reacting slowly to the correct courtly manners. She knew it was because she kept second guessing herself in such a situation.She extended her hand bent at the wrist, “Thank you, kind Sir.”“The honor was all mine,” He assured her.Lancelot always spoke with such a dire sincerity as if his very reason for living was simply to serve you. He kissed her hand, and as his damp, warm lips touched her gloved wrist, her heart fluttered.“I wish you good fortune on your journey abroad, Sir,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, when inside she was a raging sea of feelings.Lancelot smiled boyishly, “Then I shall have nothing to fear, My Queen.”Everything had happened so fast and now she was queen. Gwen needed to remind herself some mornings that this was in fact real. She had gone from living in a humble abode in town, and serving in the castle, to being the one giving the orders. She didn’t know the proper courtly manners, she had nothing expensive of her own, nor formal learning, she couldn’t even courtesy correctly as befit her new station.And all the nobles in the castle knew it too. She felt their judgement everywhere she went. Who does she think she is?“I am so very grateful that fate hath brought us back together,” Lancelot’s words brought her back to the present.Gwen felt like crying at the thought of it. Her heart had been yearning for him since they’d met. And it was only when she had finally given up on the hope of ever seeing Lancelot again, had she truly fallen for Arthur. And it was a cruel joke of Satan to bring Lancelot back only once she was married. Lancelot would now be in her life forever. So close and yet so far. She’d felt like crying. Her wedding had been so happy, and then so sad at the end of the tourney.“I don’t feel like counting my blessings, Sir,” She replied coolly, excusing herself.“Guinevere.”Lancelot presumed too much to use her Christian name.He immediately apologized. “My Queen, I have longed for the day to have you back in my life, to glance upon your beauty, to serve you until the day I die.”Tears were welling in Gwen’s eyes. A cruel joke indeed. How will we ever live like this?Gwen felt herself slipping momentarily into temptation, staring into Lancelot’s loving and sincere eyes. No!“You had best serve me from afar, Sir.” She pulled away from him and walked briskly back to her chambers to cry.As Gwen closed the door to Arthur’s chambers, their chambers, before throwing herself on the large decadent bed. Gwen reminded herself how lucky she was. What blacksmith’s daughter anywhere had ended up High Queen of so vast a land as Greater Camelot? Arthur had given her everything, and the least she could do was to be a dutiful wife and a proper Queen.It was all so new and so foreign, she just needed to keep her head, and give it some time to feel… right. They shared chambers and a bed, and it was hard for Gwen to remember she didn’t need to pick up after him. She had her own maid now, Tildy, a giggling slip of a girl, with lots of dark curls, like Gwen’s own hair, who didn’t do her duties properly.And then there was… relations. Her whole life Gwen had listened to the priests talk about the sins of the flesh, and to keep her legs closed, and her mouth, except to say her courtesies, and smile and cast her eyes down in the presence of her social betters. Gwen hadn’t been naked in front of another since she was a child taking a bath with her mother’s aid. Many years ago. And now she was a woman wedded, and expected to please her husband and she had no idea how. It all felt so wrong. And Arthur had lain with women before, she was now certain of it. Perhaps the rumors about him and Princess Vivian were true? Or Sofia? She was trying not to think about it. She hadn’t expected the pain the first time, or the blood. But what choice is there?She’d done her best to just get through it. But she knew Arthur was disappointed. What if he now regretted his choice of her, when he should have picked a princess, who came with a dowry of knights, and lands, and support from a powerful noble house. The princesses at the ball were all so elegant and well-dressed and knew what to do and how to speak. She tried to push these thoughts back down. But they continued to eat away at her.)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))Merlin had a plan, how he was exactly going to execute it, well, he’d have to see. Gaius had helped him to make the truth serum last night, and now he was going to sneak it into Argyle’s tea.  But he was cutting it a bit fine, as Arthur would be awake soon. Once he exposed the real traitor and proved himself loyal, maybe Arthur would let him clean the pigsty for a year or two before he let him back in the castle and his good graces? He didn’t have a better idea right now.Merlin crept into the servant’s quarters before the crack of dawn, only to find Argyle’s narrow straw bed, long cold. He searched his things for notes or anything else he might be hiding. Something he could bring to Arthur. But there was nothing he could find easily, if he turned the room upside down, he’d alert the treacherous servant. Merlin decided now was not the right time, and returned to the physician’s quarters. He was rounding the last hallway when he saw Argyle duck into the infirmary. The servant silently closing the thick wooden door. He wore a thick brown cloak, but Merlin was sure it was him.
What’s he doing here?
The only sound inside was John’s labored breathing. The foreigner was so thin and wasted from his ordeal, Gaius had been keeping him there, and strengthening him with all sorts of stews and teas. Merlin crept closer, peaking through a gap in the door.Argyle had taken a pillow, and was sinisterly standing above the knight’s sleeping form.
He’s going to smother him.
Merlin didn’t think it through, he acted on instinct, he burst into the room, “Why are you doing this?”John began to wake up.Argyle reacted as if shocked. “Who are you?”When Merlin didn’t answer Argyle called loudly, “Guards! Intruder!”Merlin knew they wouldn’t be long, but he had some time. He thought wind, and felt the magic flow through him. Argyle was slept off his feet and slammed his head into the stonewall near John’s sickbed. Not hard enough to kill him, but enough to knock him out.John had opened his eyes and sat up in bed, just as Gaius came into the room in his nightshirt, wiping the sleep from his eyes.“Merlin? What are you…” Gaius pondered at the sight before him.John was awake now, “Who is this man?”Merlin silently told Gaius he needed to take care of John.“You’re having a fever dream,” Gaius turned to the foreign knight, “I’ll give you something to help you sleep.”Gaius was mere moments pulling a potion off a shelf and holding the man’s head so he could drink it down. John was muttering incoherently as he began to doze off again. The rattle of metal could be heard, as multiple palace guards made their way towards the infirmary. Merlin hid behind the door. And then he saw Argyle, slumped in the corner of the room, next to John’s bed.Wind, he thought, using magic to cover the still manservant’s form with a nearby fur.
Phew!
Gaius composed himself, such that when they arrived, he had his lie ready.“Who goes there?” Said the tallest one, clearly the most senior guard asked. He was the one with long thick hair and broad shoulders.“It’s quite alright,” The old healer informed the mailed guards, “Our guest is sick with fever, and was screaming for the guards, thinking I was an intruder.”They glanced over to John who was still muttering, but clearly groggy.They didn’t look any further or appear to notice the fur hiding a big lump in the corner. Merlin held his breath, and tried not to draw attention.“It’s quite alright now,” Gaius said, “you can return to your posts.”Gaius was well-respected, so they obeyed him without further question.)))))They tied Argyle to the nearest wooden chair they had, with a backrest, so they could bind his torso around many times with strong rope, and his wrists to each other behind his back. They disguised themselves with veils and cloaks and they waited for him to come to.Once Argyle had returned, and taken in his surrounds, he seemed annoyed, more than scared.  Merlin held his nose, so that he would have to open his mouth for air soon enough. And as soon as he did, Gaius poured the truth serum down his throat.“How long do you think it takes to work?” Merlin asked.Gaius shrugged.“Tell us who you are working for,” Merlin began his interrogation. He would do the talking so Argyle wouldn’t recognize Gaius’ voice.Argyle smirked, clearly not understanding that they had magic on their side. He remined silent.
It must need longer to work.
Merlin tried again, “What is your real name?”Silence. Argyle looked upon him with such rage, it shook Merlin to his core. He hates us all.Merlin couldn’t contain his disgust and his anger, “How could you do this to Arthur? He’s your king! It’s treason!”“Who are you?” Argyle asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
Why isn’t he scared? He must be connected to some very powerful people.
Merlin was here to get answer not give them. “It doesn’t matter.”“I’m Arthur’s trusted servant, he’ll believe me over the likes of you,” Argyle scoffed.“I’ll go get Arthur,” Gaius advised in a whisper to disguise his voice, “it won’t be long now.”Merlin didn’t lose sight of his mission, “I know you are spying against Arthur, I saw you meet with that guard and tell him where Arthur travels on the morrow.”Argyle appeared unsettled, but he covered it with bluster, “Arthur isn’t going to believe a word from your mouth, liar!”Merlin showed him the dark blue bottle of potion, “You see this, it’s truth serum.” Merlin spoke triumphantly, “You are going to tell us everything you know. And you know what fate awaits a traitor.”For the first time, Argyle was silent, his eyes wide in terror. With good reason. Traitors didn’t just get a punishment of death, they got a slow, agonizing death, involving torture first.John murmured something, “Matthew, je suis desole.”Merlin glanced over at the foreign knight, wondering if he were waking again.Argyle made a move. He stood, still attached to the chair and backed up towards the window. There was no way he could escape, not with the chair attached to him. They were two stories up. Merlin hesitated. But escape wasn’t Argyle’s intention. He jumped backwards out the window, still bound to that chair.Merlin screamed “No!”He ran towards the window, thinking of the incantation of wind to break his fall. But by the time he got to the stone windowsill, it was too late.  He heard the sickening crack and dull thud as Argyle presumably hit the ground. It was a long drop onto stone, with no way to brace his fall. Merlin saw Argyle’s legs sprawled out in an unnatural way, his eyes open, with the wooden chair, now flattened underneath him. There was no blood. Dawn was breaking, the market square was about to be alive with the bustling market.Merlin grabbed the fur from before, using wind magic to float it down to cover Argyle up. Merlin wasn’t sure if he was dead, but he certainly wasn’t conscious.Merlin could see a noisy wooden cart full of hay bales being pulled by a donkey, a bearded peasant holding the bridle and leading the creature towards the stone tower.“Did you hear something,” the peasant said to the young dark-haired fisher, who had been setting up his own market stall with his freshest catch.“Yeah, a crunch, from over there,” The fisher pointed to the base of the tower.Merlin stepped back from the window. He needed to act fast, before they came any closer.Fire. He felt the flash of magic go through him.He set the cart of hay on fire with a spell. Not a raging fire, but enough that they’d smell it right away. The donkey was spooked and began to run, not that it could get away from the fire on the cart it was hauling. The peasant was soon trailing after the animal, while the fisher was screaming “Fire,” and seeking help.Merlin put it out by incanting wind in his mind. The cart itself, was wooden and hadn’t taken to flame yet. The donkey was screaming and half the castle were awake, and coming running. Merlin had no time, he was still shrouded and took the cart Gaius used for supplies when he made house calls, and discreetly descended the steps to outside. While all the backs were turned examining the burned straw, and trying to calm the rearing donkey, Merlin had floated a covered Argyle onto the cart.“Did you say that?” Lila, the laundry maid, exclaimed to Merlin’s hooded figure.She didn’t appear to have recognized him.She shook her head dismayed, “It just caught fire all on its own!”“I didn’t see anything,” Merlin spoke, lowering his voice as much as he could.Once she moved to get a closer look, Merlin turned discreetly and pulled the now heavy cart of ‘fur’ back to Gaius’ quarters.Merlin examined Arthur’s traitorous manservant. The balding man’s back was clearly broken, as was his skull. The lack of blood was fortunate, but Argyle was dead. His eyes remained open, but glassed over, the black part of his eye very large.
Damn!

I never should have told him about the truth serum.

Or we should have bound his feet as well!
Merlin wasn’t used to detaining people, he didn’t know the best way. And now Gaius would be back any moment with Arthur. And Arthur would be expecting a confession or something.What was he going to do? And now all of Argyle’s knowledge of what was certainly a larger plot had died with him.
Damn!
Gaius came back into the room. Merlin had performed the aging spell and so looked like Rhys.“Arthur was in his chambers with his queen,” Gaius admitted, “and I dare say, newlyweds are not to be disturbed.”
Phew!
They clearly hadn’t thought through their plan all that well. Arthur was about to go abroad. It was to be expected that he’d want to… say goodbye to his queen privately. Merlin explained the mishap. Gaius was clearly frustrated with the turn of events.“Damn indeed,” His mentor agreed, looking at Argyle’s body.Merlin was forlorn, “Now what?”)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Merlin went back to Argyle’s quarters and began to seriously ransack the place, not caring any more if he did leave it disorderly. The dead cannot object. He was looking for all the secret hiding spots. A lose board in the floor, a hollow bedpost, a false bottom in a wooden chest. Daylight was flooding the room, and his brow was covered in sweat, by the time he’d flipped over Arglye’s mattress finding nothing of interest. Merlin didn’t have time to consider the matter further because he heard Arthur coming down the hallway.Arthur hadn’t even gotten to the room yet when he started in with the insults, “Argyle, you lazy sod! Where’s my cooked breakfast? You promised me crispy bacon and soft-boiled eggs on hard bread.”Hide! The door swung open.Arthur exaggerated his faux annoyance, “Your sleeping quarters are in complete disarray!” Arthur said to no one, because Argyle clearly wasn’t there, it was a very small room with no windows.Arthur was horrified at the state of the room, “How can I trust you to tend to me properly, if this is how you tend yourself!”He continued to speak to the seemingly empty room, undeterred that he had no audience.Merlin was in the only hiding spot, which was under the bed, and since he’d left all the linens and furs on the floor when he’d tossed the mattress, they were helping to hide him from view.  In his haste, Merlin had left the bottle of truth serum on the table by the door.  He had cleverly labelled it the name of an expensive Gaulish wine.  Arthur spotted it, picked it up, and Arthur being Arthur, took a long and drawn-out swig from the bottle.Water, thought Merlin, and with that, he stopped the liquid from obeying natural law and pouring out.  Arthur clearly thought for a moment it must be empty. He right sided the bottle, shook it, heard the liquid splash inside, then tried to drink from the bottle yet again to no avail.  He looked inside, thinking a cork must be lodged deep inside. The king said, “I’m taking this wine, Argyle, it’s far too good for the likes of you!”Arthur went back to his chambers, meeting Agravaine at the door.Arthur’s annoyance at his manservant immediately forgotten, his mood was jovial, “Break your fast with me, Uncle.”They sat in Arthur’s chambers.  Arthur called to a maid walking past to send another servant to attend them.Merlin saw his opportunity.  He reversed his aging spell, now becoming the eight year-old, Emmett, and ran to the kitchens, requesting two generous helpings of crispy bacon, soft boiled eggs on hard bread to be brought to the king at once. Then he ran back to attend to them. Merlin stopped at the cellar and grabbed a real bottle of Gaulish wine in his haste.Emmett was puffed and wobbly legged by the time he finally got to Arthur’s table. He picked up the bottle of truth serum labelled as wine. 
How to ensure only Agravaine drinks the wine?
It would be very bad if Arthur started blurting out all his secrets to his adviser. An adviser Merlin wasn’t sure he should trust.Merlin poured two glasses of the real wine, spiking only Agravaine’s chalice with the truth serum and then served them both silently, so they’d forget he was even there and speak freely amongst themselves.Agravaine held the cup of wine, but hadn’t brought it to his lips as yet, “Who are you leaving in charge?”“Uncle, it won’t be too long,” Arthur reassured his adviser, “Bayard will rule in my absence, he’s a man of his word. There’s nothing to worry about.”Agravaine continued to warn, gesturing with his cup rather than drinking, much to Merlin’s anxiety.“All will be well, Uncle, try your wine.” Arthur encouraged, “It’s a very nice flavor.”Agravaine finally did do just that, taking a long swallow, “hmmm, fruity.” The older man looked around, observing, “Where is Argyle? He’s not attending you this morning, Sire?”“I have no idea where that lay about has gotten to,” Arthur was quick to assert his displeasure, “when I find him, it’s the stocks for sure!”Merlin waited silently for Agravaine to start talking. He was still focused as ever, “How many knights are you taking, My King?”“Twenty-five.”Agravaine was clearly displeased, “Doesn’t the Rose Knight say… that… they are besieged by 100 men, Sire?”Rose Knight? Never heard of them, Merlin thought.“I know,” Arthur conceded, “but it’s so sensitive, I'm only taking those I really trust.”“Far be it from me to question you when it comes to battle tactics, Sire,” Agravaine acquiesced.Maybe it needs longer to work? “We leave this morning,” Arthur said, “’Tis done, Uncle! Enjoy the quiet, with all my rowdy young men gone for a little while.”   Agravaine took a long swallow of the wine, “Arthur, this wine! Where is it from?”“Gaul, I believe,” Arthur commented.“Interesting,” Agravaine said politely, without drinking any more. Agravaine kept talking, “And upon your return you need to think about the future, and continuing to fortify your position as high king, to keep your under kings loyal and onside.”Arthur was in good humor as he ate his bacon and spoke with his mouthful, “The boring particulars of weddings, alliances and taxation laws shall have to wait,” Arthur didn’t even pretend to be sad about the delay, “It will be an exciting adventure and a chance for my new knights to prove themselves.”Merlin watched it all silently.“I still fear it is folly, Sire,” Agravaine continued to politely express reservations.Arthur appeared embarrassed, smiling boyishly, “We shall see!”“As you will it, My King,” Agravaine tucked into his food.“This wine…” Agravaine, became unguarded, “goodness, it takes me back, when I was a young lad, that age when you aren’t entirely a child anymore, but not yet a man…” Agravaine waggled his eyebrows.“Go on,” Arthur was surprised by the about turn in the conversation.“There was this maid, she was… buxom,” Agravaine signaled with his hands as if holding two invisible melons, “what was her name? Shirley? Shaylee? Shianne?” Uncle tossed it off, “can’t remember now, she was a strawberry blonde, and curvy in all the right places…” Agravaine smiled dopily, “if you know what I mean.”Arthur was clearly not impressed, “I’m afraid I do.”“She used to wash in the pond just outside the castle walls on a Sunday, before we came to Albion. I used to watch her from my window. She’d lift up her huge tits and wash underneath and they’d jiggle, her big pink nipples bouncing…” Arthur seemed discomforted, “Uncle, please!”“That was the first time I’d discovered my soldier could salute...” Agravaine’s face was full of mischief, “if you know what I mean,” As his distinguished adviser elbowed Arthur in the ribs, to signify his jest.“Tell it to your priest,” Arthur seemed eager for the end of the conversation.“She introduced me to the pleasures of the body, and I used to enjoy myself morning, noon and night to the image of Shirley and her bouncing bosom!”“Uncle, what’s going on?” Arthur queried.The king could clearly see his Uncle's suddenly changed demeanor and speech. Merlin hoped not enough to suspect magic though.Merlin watched it all.  Arthur might have had similar stories of his own, but he didn’t say them out loud, he needed to maintain the respect of the nobles and his advisers.“Did you ever do anything like that, Artie?” Agravaine asked, taking another long swallow of wine, finishing the goblet and turning upside down, sad as the last few drops landed on the wooden table.“I did,” Arthur admitted, “But I learned from such wanton behavior. And I asked God to forgive my transgressions.”Merlin saw his opportunity to fill the advisor’s goblet up again.“Then there was Betsy!” Agravaine, seemingly drunk, wound up for another no doubt, crass story.Arthur raised his hand wanting him to cease and desist, “No thank you. Perhaps we have been all work and no play, Uncle.”Arthur stood up and began attending to himself, making haste to take his leave. He was level headed in his instruction, “Uncle, take some time and enjoy yourself. You are widowed a long time now. There’s no reason you can’t seek out a new wife. Or court one of the fine young ladies Greater Camelot has to offer.”“I am lonely,” Agravaine reflected momentarily, but still like he was drunk, swirling his now flowing cup once again, spilling some on the stone floor, “it’s a shame Morgana didn’t marry me.”Arthur furrowed his brow, “You said you would wed her for perception purposes only,” The king reminded his uncle sternly.“I know,” The older man waved off, “but she may have proved a little too tempting.” Agravaine took a large gulp, “Having the same woman over and over can get boring.”Arthur didn’t approve of the sentiment, reminding him, “I am happily married, so I am sorry to hear that.”“Talk to me again when you’ve been married for ten years.”“Good day, Uncle.”Arthur's words were more congenial than he seemed to feel now, and he was leaving.“Safe trip,” Agravaine waved, and kept drinking alone.Merlin remained still, hoping to be forgotten entirely, so he could interrogate the king’s beloved uncle for all he knew.“Emmett,” Arthur called, over his shoulder.“Yes, Sire,” Merlin inwardly winced. Arthur had commented a while back that Emmett looked so much like someone he used to know, but a younger version.“Come here,” Arthur instructed, “I need you to do something very important.”“Anything, Sire.”“Find Argyle, and tell him to come see me.”“Yes, Sire.”“Right away,” Arthur insisted.
Damn it!
To make matters worse, Agravaine’s own manservant, Charlton walked towards them.“My dear man,” Arthur got his attention, “please attend to your charge.”Charlton was a thin older man, with thinning dark hair, and a large nose, a curly moustache, and beady eyes.  He was very fastidious, and immaculately groomed at all times, with little to say, but a knack for anticipating what anyone would want and need at any moment. The very picture of a perfect manservant.“I’m afraid Uncle hath enjoyed the Gaulish wine a little too much this morning,” Arthur explained to Agravaine’s servant, “Please escort him to his chambers to sleep it off, before he’s allowed out again. I can’t have him embarrassing himself so.”And Merlin hated him for being there at that moment. If 'Emmett' had been the only servant present. He’d be the one escorting the king’s esteemed advisor back to his chambers for a little game of ‘tell me all you know’.Arthur went to leave.“Emmett, why are you still here?”
Damn it!
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) Merlin had finally realized that Argyle’s demise might not be as unfortunate as he’d first thought. He spoke to Gaius, now back in the safety of the physician’s quarters, wearing no disguise. They were to set off at first light.“I know how I can go on the Grail Quest.”He held up Argyle’s clothes triumphantly.“Was he always a traitor?” Gaius wondered aloud.“I don’t know,” Merlin said honestly, “but, if I pretend to be him, maybe I’ll find out. And find out who he was spying for, and all the others involved.”Merlin also relayed his lack of success where Agravaine was concerned, “I might need to find a way to make the truth serum more… specific.”“What happened?”“Agravaine just sought of confessed to enjoying watching on a buxom maid bathe when he was a boy…” Merlin admitted, “it wasn’t very helpful.”Merlin decided to take the remainder of the serum with him, no doubt it would come in handy.))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))Most of the old guard of knights remained behind. And Arthur had appointed Bayard to rule in his place, with help from Arthur’s advisers.  Everything else was to remain the same.  Bayard had sworn not to change any of the fundamental rules Arthur had laid down, such as the laws on sorcery. Arthur trusted the old Mercian king more than most, so when he swore it in front of a crowded court the day before, Arthur had been reassured.Arthur had never traveled on a sailing ship.  Urwaine was more than happy to have his Cornish fleet sail Arthur and his knights anywhere, so indebted he felt.  They took horses, and barrels of salted meat. Arthur requested Cornwall supply sailors for the journey and Urwaine was thrilled to be helping ‘the great King Arthur’. It took some time to get used to the sway and spray of the water.  The wooden boom swinging near one’s head.  The shorthand the crew yelled at one another to move the sails to best catch the wind.  Arthur found he lacked the sailor’s stomach, and was sick off the side of the boat the first half a day.Arthur was trying not to dwell on the situation at hand. His mind wandered to last night. He and Gwen had made love for the second time. Arthur made sure they kissed for a long time before any disrobing happened, because she was comfortable with that. But as soon as it came time for copulation, she just laid there, eyes squeezed shut, like she couldn’t wait for it to be over.  He’d wanted to have fond memories to think of while he was away and missing her. He felt that given time Gwen would come to enjoy it, and they would just need to keep doing it, a lot.  He secretly hoped they had made an heir as well. And then he had to stop himself from sobbing thinking on the child that was lost.
Maybe the child was too sickly to live. The price of his sin.  
Arthur didn’t get any further in his thinking because Argyle came over, looking even more sea sick than he was.The short, balding red head suggested, “I hear it helps if you focus on something in the distance…” his face contorted and he had to empty his stomach contents off the side of the ship. He was puffy, and wiping his mouth when he finally stopped heaving. Arthur felt a little better about his own royal dignity, upon witnessing it.“… helps if you focus on something in the distance, that isn’t moving,” Argyle completed his sentence as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place in between.“That may have been more convincing,” Arthur chuckled, “if you hadn’t been blowing chunks yourself!”“What are you thinking?” Argyle asked, as if that were perfectly normal. And he seemed not be calling him ‘Sire’ any more.Arthur was a little taken aback, “That you should wash your hands thoroughly before making my tea!”))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))Morgana was exhausted. She knew The Isle was safe. Maybe the only safe place. It was still early, and the sun was not yet high in the sky. She walked slowly towards the hillside, along the bank’s edge where the willow trees grew. She enjoyed the sunlight coming through their long chains of leaves. It was calm, while inside, she felt waves crashing against her belly.  There was a very real threat to her and her unborn child in Arthur’s court. Something laying in wait, ready to pounce.Morgana’s pregnancy had been relatively uneventful, except for what had almost happened the morning after Arthur’s wedding.  On the formal breakfast after the big day, Morgana sat at the high place of honor eating her eggs and bread and drinking tea, when she had tasted something bitter.  She knew immediately it was rue and wormwood. These plants were known to give a pregnant woman cramps. They caused a woman’s courses to flow, taking the growing life with them. Someone had intentionally put it in her food, and had she not been of The Isle she would have been none the wiser.  Morgana had told Morgause immediately what had transpired, and her sister had disposed of the food, while making it look as if Morgana had eaten it.  Then they walked back to her chambers as if nothing was wrong, but once the oaken doors were closed, Morgana couldn’t keep her fear at bay.Someone was trying to kill her child. And not many people knew she was pregnant. No one she didn’t trust. It had been Morgause’s idea to fake a miscarriage.  The blood on the towels was real enough, but had come from a pig killed for the feast.  And the rest was just pretending, it wasn’t too hard, Morgana summoned the grief she really would have felt if she had lost the child.  Caellan and Alvarr at the time believed it true, it was only Morgause who also had to play the part. Arthur had clearly been convinced.  Morgana knew straight away that she needed to leave Camelot, being pregnant made her vulnerable, and a newborn’s life was so perilous.  The best way to protect her child was if the poisoner believed they had succeeded and Morgana didn’t appear to be a problem anymore.
But who knows?

Agravaine, Sir Leon, Caellan, Alvarr, Mordred, Arthur, possibly Gaius? Possibly Gwen? Merlin could still be lurking about… some entirely unknown threat who simply hated her and magic!
Who would do such a thing? Who would know how to do such a thing? Morgana wasn’t going to set foot off The Isle until the threat to her unborn child had been dealt with.  Morgause had vowed to root them out and make them pay, which eased her mind some.Morgana went to Hella and Gwydion’s hut by mid-morning. She had to set her mind to a different task than the waiting predator at Arthur’s court. Since the day she had left Camelot, Morgause had told her a secret about Mordred’s parentage. And after a long discussion, Morgana had agreed that it should stay a secret for now. Morgause had advised her to seek out Hella to teach her how to block other seers.  Morgause had known how to control her thoughts in such a way that mind readers couldn’t hear her. She’d known how for many years. But Morgana was sure Mordred could hear all she knew, so she needed to learn how to stop him, from learning what needed to be private for now. That was why Morgause had waited to tell Morgana the truth of Mordred’s birth until they were alone on the boat travelling back to The Isle after she’d faked losing her pregnancy. Morgana was leaving and wouldn’t be seeing Mordred for a while, and so Morgause had been deliberate to prevent the boy from finding out.Morgana announced her presence and Hella came to welcome her warmly. They squeezed hands in greeting.  Morgana sat with Hella and Gwydion to enjoy oats with fresh milk and honey, sitting around the thick round table in their humble abode.  Once they were full, Hella explained that Morgana could absolutely master how to block other seers, but it took mindfulness and concentration and control of one’s emotions.Morgana just didn’t feel up to it, “I’m too tired. I can’t do this now.”“Pregnancy isn’t your problem,” Hella was quick to say, “it’s your fears.”Morgana didn’t want anyone to know about what had happened at court. She felt, it was better that the fewer people who knew the better.Morgana knew Hella would sense it anyway. “I have been… dealing with a lot.”“Mordred has been hearing your words and your thoughts for a long time now, he knows you well, blocking him will be difficult,” Hella explained, “and I guarantee he already knows what you look like when you are lying.”Morgana hadn’t considered that. “What do I do?”“Find better ways to hide that you are lying,” Hella said, “and master ways of ridding him from hearing your mind.”Morgana just felt so tired and so weighed down by it all. She didn’t want to lie to him, but could see the necessity. They had a plan. Ability over birth.Hella was focused on the task at hand, “Tell me three facts about yourself, but one of the three must involve a lie.”Morgana said that she loved riding, loved living on The Isle and loved wearing fine dresses.Hella smiled wryly, “You lied about the dresses.”Morgana nodded, impressed, “How did you know?”“Your face.”“My face?”“Oh, yes,” Hella was proud to explain, “people give away a lot in their face when they are lying.”“Will this even work?” Morgana wasn’t convinced, “We can always feel one another.”Hella sort clarification, “Feel as in what?”Morgana found herself struggling to find the words to describe it, it was something you felt, there were no real words. “It’s like an invisible rope tied to my waist and his waist, and either of us can tug to the line at any moment and feel the other.”Hella smiled. Before asking, “Over how far?”“Far… I mean,” Morgana knew it sounded so odd, but Hella of all people, might understand, “I can’t feel him now that he’s in Gaul, not really, but I know he’s alive.”Morgana did her best to explain, “When the druid camp Mordred had taken safe refuge in, was massacred on Uther’s orders, I knew he wasn’t dead, I could feel him.”“That’s a different thing entirely, that kind of connection to another is rare,” Hella commented.Morgana was proud upon hearing that. “From the moment I saw him, I knew he was meant to be mine. It was my duty to protect him.”Hella nodded her understanding.Morgana felt compelled to ask her burning question, “if I learn to block Mordred, will I lose that connection we have?”“Not unless you want to, but that might take extraordinarily advanced magic to accomplish.”“Good,” Morgana was relieved, she never wanted to sever the connection she felt fortunate to have to her child. “I’d never want to do that.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They soon lost sight of the Cornish coast, and Arthur’s stomach eventually settled, and he grew to enjoy the salty sea air. There was a beauty and a calm to being out on the water. Arthur’s newly made knights were so excited for such an adventure.  They sang songs of chivalry and honor and upholding the good.Argyle had to leave to throw up again, Arthur couldn’t believe his manservant could possibly have anything left in his stomach, he made a mental note to make fun of him later. It wasn’t the same, he was humorless compared to his former bumbling manservant who would remain nameless!Then Arthur caught sight of Caellan standing alone near the stern, holding onto a guard rope, looking expressionless as ever.“Lady Caellan,” He addressed her with a noble title despite her having no nobility to speak of. She may have been noble by the standards of The Isle, but whom knew how they decided such things.She bowed, instead of a customary curtsy, “My King.”He took in her appearance, as she usually was, the braids and black priestess robes that marked her out as of the Old Religion. “Have you clothes for the journey, My Lady?” He enquired sincerely.She looked confused, “These are my clothes.”Arthur became a little flustered, “Yes of course, but… we will be trying to attract as little attention as possible when we arrive in Normandy.”The raven-haired healer looked ashamed, aware she may be hurting their sensitive mission. “I didn’t bring anything else.”Arthur suggested helpfully, “Perhaps Morgause has something she could loan you. A plain dress.”Caellan agreed to check. But the stoic healer was taller and thinner than Morgause, so it wasn’t going to be ideal regardless.Caellan then touched her hair, it was very long and very conspicuous. “And my braids?”“Please take them out,” He instructed, hoping she wasn’t going to argue with him. Caellan was clearly feeling embarrassed she might be harming the quest, so Arthur tried to be supportive, “Maybe we shall purchase a suitable gown at the port?”The Isler nodded, and seemed eager to leave his presence after that.The journey wasn’t long, they arrived in the mid-afternoon. Thankfully the Cornish crew had sailed to Port-de-Barfleur many a time, with its infamous coast, known for fast changing tides, white stone rocks and ship wrecks. The crew did an admirable job, and the ship was anchored safely in the port, and they were rowed to shore at the portside town of Normandy on much smaller boats. The beach had beautiful water and smooth sand, extending the length of the bay, and constructed stonewalls as look-outs.  Arthur and his knights were disguised in the clothes of common travelers, merchants perhaps, to keep them from being recognized. As it turned out Morgause only had breaches, and shirts and knight’s attire. They had left in such a rush, Arthur hadn’t thought to check what belongings his knights were travelling with. Morgause had simply worn a dark leather hat, with her golden locks hidden to pass herself off as a man, which was an effective camouflage. As luck would have it, Sir Leon had a large brown cloak, similar to that a monk might wear. He’d given it to Caellan to cover her entire outfit including a hood. They stopped only long enough for Lancelot, to purchase a brown woolen gown for Caellan.The Cornish crew were left with coin and Urwaine had wanted them to bring back some Gaulish delicacies and trade in grains, and crops from Albion. Arthur didn’t know how long his force would be, and so he simply had an agreement with the ship’s captain, Levan, to keep someone at port who could get word to Cornwall to bring the ship back when needed.  Arthur’s small force had their armor and weapons packed into trunks and hauled on two of the ship’s rowboats they were taking with them. Sir Percival was a strong rower, so he took Caellan and John with him upon the Loire River. Sir Leon rowed the rest of the supplies. The main group rode, and led the spare horses, as eight separate journeys. The stayed off the main track near the river’s edge, electing to go through the trees, which was slower because of the more treacherous ground. Daylight was fading, so that first night, they didn’t camp that far out of Normandy.)))))))))))) Merlin’s berry-induced glamour that was allowing him to appear as Arthur’s manservant, Argyle, left much to be desired. The potion wore off at sunset. Which was making it exceedingly difficult to carry out his duties, since Arthur didn’t go to bed until well after the sun.  Since ‘Argyle’ couldn’t wait on Arthur in the evenings, Merlin as Argyle, had approached Mordred.  ‘Argyle’ advised the boy that Gaius had said for his health he was to be to bed early. Merlin explained to Mordred that he would cook the meal, if only the squire would serve Arthur and wait on him in the evenings. Mordred’s expression said ‘why should I do that?’. Squires had many thankless duties, Merlin knew, ‘Argyle’ offered to sharpen swords, and polishing armor for Mordred in exchange. The boy instantly saw what a good deal that was.  And was more than happy to agree.Merlin cooked the evening meal, using magic in his own tent. But Mordred was late back to collect it, and the sun had gone down. So Merlin had to get creative. He wrapped himself up in linens, and a fur, and said he wasn’t to be disturbed, and only put a wrapped hand out of the tent, to place the metal bowl of stew, and ale where the squire could take it. Mordred said nothing, and carried the food to the king. And this was only day one.   )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))Arthur had been expecting Argyle to bring his supper, but was pleasantly surprised when it was Mordred instead. He invited the boy to sit, and asked if he’d had his tea. He shook for no, and so Arthur poured half the stew into a mug for his squire to eat too. He remembered the promise he’d made to Morgana when she’d departed for Avalon Lake only a half turn ago or so, to look out for Mordred. And tell him of her, and make sure he felt loved. Arthur wasn’t sure how you made a child feel loved, but he certainly had an overflowing supply of stories about Morgana. And so, once they had eaten, Arthur had offered to tell the boy a story.Mordred asked to hear about the ball, when they both had to learn to waltz for a Duke’s wedding. Arthur told of the clumsy children and the stern mistress, and Morgana’s beautiful gown and hair, and the fancy evening of entertainment and dancing.  He kept remembering little details. Mordred loved details. He’d interrupt to ask what food was being eaten? What songs were being played? What were the dance steps? What did Morgana say here? Who danced with whom? Arthur preferred epic adventure stories, and would have wanted to hear about battles or swords, or horse chases, or lancing tourneys at the same age, but the boy was a bit odd, and clearly made different.He got to the part of the narrative where some noble had asked Morgana to dance. She was only about 13, but she had a woman’s body, and the men in the room hadn’t failed to notice. Arthur felt like a little kid watching this man who was maybe twenty, take Morgana’s hand and lead her onto the dance floor. She had been graceful and had her hair up in silver clasps that night, with diamonds. He was still a little boy, and the only girls who wanted to dance with him were silly giggling idiots, who were even younger than he was.“What was his name? Did mother fancy him?” Mordred’s voice had brought Arthur back to the present.He shrugged. Then explained, it had only been a dance, they hadn’t courted afterwards. He’d thought she was more flattered than genuinely interested.  The man was old! Or what he thought was ancient back then.“What did he look like?”Arthur tried to remember after all these years, “He was a man grown.” He had made a note of him, but had long forgotten his name. “With lots of dark curly hair, and broad shoulders. He may have been from Nemeth.”Mordred just nodded and allowed him to continue.After he had recalled the entire ball in great detail, Arthur’s mind wandered to what had happened later in the same evening. Father had been on display, talking to his nobles, keeping his alliances well-tended. Morgana and Arthur had stayed up much later than they were normally allowed, their governess was drinking and had forgotten about them, so they were skulking around the servants’ quarters, watching everything go by.  A laundry maid and a stable boy were kissing in a hall and pretty soon he was hiking up her skirts, as he pressed her up against the stone wall, and she was moaning as he seemed to be bumping her belly with his.“Is he hurting her?” Morgana had asked innocently.Arthur had looked at Morgana like she was stupid, “No, that’s what grown-ups do… fornication.”Her face was blank.Arthur explained, “It feels really good.”She’d asked, “Have you done it?”Arthur shook for no.“How do you know then?”“I have a friend who is a knight, and he knows all about romancing women,” Arthur had boasted. Father had a knight named Gerold, who wasn’t as knightly as he should have been.  He used to tell Arthur things, and Arthur thought he was very wise of the ways of women and the world.“That doesn’t look very… romantic,” Morgana had said flatly. Clearly unimpressed.Arthur had never seen it before either, it stirred him and he was endlessly curious about doing it after that. 
If only I had asked Father if I could marry her back then, perhaps he’d have told me the truth and all of this heart ache could have been avoided.
Arthur came back to the present. Mordred had a funny look on his face.I really shouldn’t think about things like that in front of him, he realized.Usually, Arthur couldn’t forget that Mordred could read his mind, and wanted to be away from the boy unless he needed him, because it was off putting that someone else could delve into your own private thoughts without your leave. He had ordered Mordred not to listen to his thoughts very early on, but he wasn’t sure if the boy could control it or not.Arthur signified the end, before enquiring if the boy had a tent of his own to sleep in, because he certainly wasn’t offering to share.The expressionless boy with the large light blue eyes responded, “Morgause and I are sharing.”Arthur had presumed Morgause and Caellan would share since they were the only women on the journey. He supposed he didn’t care that much.)))))))))))They set off again at first light. The whole group split up again as separate journeys by horse and boat, agreeing to meet up where the river turned that evening to all make camp together. The river was teaming with boats hauling trading goods up and down constantly, which made going unnoticed more of a challenge. The Loire River was beautiful, with blue green water, and unfamiliar trees, and beautiful flowers around the river’s banks. It was near sunset by the time they reached their destination.  Morgause set off on foot and came back a while later, advising she had found an ideal place to make camp. The She-Knight had encouraged Arthur to take green and brown dyed canvas because it blended in with the natural surroundings, a suggestion that was clever. So, their tents couldn’t be seen easily.They neared their destination of Tournai and Arthur had them make camp a few leagues from the siege to be safe.  The Romans had settled the town around 30 AD. But with Western Roman power waning in Gaul these days, power was split between warlords locally. So who knew which group ruled here now?Sir John was chatty about the siege itself. In his limited common tongue he had been able to convey that about 50 Rose Knights, and villagers under their protection had been travelling towards the Loire River when they were attacked by a larger force. But all Arthur’s attempts to learn more about the besiegers were met with blank stares and shrugs. They’d retreated to a small, stone Church. And they had stayed hauled up there for nearly three moon turns. They had been starving and wasting on the supplies they had had from the beginning. That is very patient. Whoever it was besieging them, was in no hurry, Arthur concluded.Arthur’s plan for the first night was only that a small hand-picked group would sneak up to take in the besieging force’s camp. Their aim being to smuggle some food and water in to help the starving Rose Knights hold out until they could break the siege. As they were clearly on their way to starvation.Arthur’s knights were more than capable of setting up a camp to the rigid standards of Rome that would have made Father proud.  Arthur left Lancelot in charge to ensure everyone remained quiet and stayed together. He picked men to sleep in shifts keeping watch. They were far enough away that the besieging force’s sentries would not be able to spot them.Arthur only took John, Alvarr, Caellan, Morgause and Mordred with him. The sorcerer’s each silently floated a barrel of salted meat, vegetables and fruits, water and wine in front of them. John was uneasy at the sight of their powers.“We’re of the Religion of the Triple Goddess,” Mordred whispered, when they were still a league from the edges of the siege, as if in answer to all the man’s questions.Sir John nodded, “I’ve heard… stories,” He admitted, “but seeing it…”Mordred stared back at the Rose Knight blankly, his barrel suspended in mid-air.John asked the boy, “Can you turn water into wine?”Mordred shrugged, not seeing why such a specific question was being asked. Sir John questioned, “Can you raise the dead?”Mordred looked to Morgause, whom remained silent.The Rose Knight held firm, “Then, God and the Holy Spirit, Father of Jesus Christ, will remain my personal savior.”Mordred was very confused, but didn’t pursue it any further.))))))Once they crept closer, they had to crawl along the ground. What Arthur noticed was all the tents, the camp that sprawled for leagues in every direction. Low burning fires could be seen all around, like swarms of fireflies. He guessed at least 500 men were besieging this tiny stone church.You told me, 100! Arthur admonished Sir John in his head. But he knew instantly why the Rose Knight had lied, they were desperate. We are only 25 against 500!The camp was well-ordered and well-provisioned, with plenty of men, arms and horses by the looks of things, though it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell with the light fading fast.
What force in Gaul prey tell has 500 men to devote to besieging such a small group for three moon turns!?
As they got closer to the camp, Arthur noticed the red banners. And then he saw the sigil, a golden eagle with the golden wreath creating a circle.  Arthur’s blood ran cold. Rome. He felt his gut heave. They want me to fight Rome, my father’s people, my father’s Gods!
It’s madness!
These Rose Knights won’t even tell me who they are or what they stand for!Arthur signaled by holding up his hand, for everyone to halt crawling along the ground. He needed a moment to think.And not just any Roman commander, the last remaining Roman commander in these parts was Syagrius.
My father joined forces with the Roman Commander, Syagrius, early in his reign, to remove some Saxons from western Gaul.
Father, if Arthur recalled correctly, had described him as the most ‘Roman of Romans’.  Dogged, rule and honor bound, a simple man of strict discipline who accepted nothing less in his men.Arthur could hear Agravaine’s voice in his head, as if his socially conscious advisor were standing next to him, ‘it is not wise to make an enemy of Rome.’Rome were long gone as a military force in Albion. But in Gaul, they still had some waning power, a rump state near Soissons in northern Gaul. And of course, Rome still held their strength further east. But they continued to send Cardinals as advisors to all of Albion’s kings.  Before Arthur had left Camelot, the aimable, Cardinal Benbray, had been recalled to Roma immediately, and the ostentatious Cardinal Jerome of Roma, had taken his place.  He was an impressive man well into middle age, with a distinguished way of speaking, clean shaven, with a strong voice, and good character. The man had appointed himself Arthur’s adviser and did nothing but preach the ills of sorcery and the perils of knighting women. Arthur knew Father had always said to keep the Church onside. Because they could make life very difficult for kings who displeased them. This was the kind of squabble on foreign soil he’d sooner avoid, Arthur had already ruffled Rome’s feathers as it was. 
And why have the last of the Roman commanders taken such a dislike to these Rose Knights?
But then Arthur realized he already knew; the Roman commander thinks the Rose Knights have the Holy Grail and he wants it for himself.
I don’t rule these lands. I have never presumed to tell a foreign kingdom how to run their affairs.
In Gaul, power had been reduced to local warlords and was being split between Visigoths, Ostrogoths, various small groups of Saxons, Vikings, Francs, Berbers, and Barbarians.
But the Holy Grail, if divine, does that not transcend territory? Mere borders drawn on maps that very well may change.  God does not ask the righteous to stay where they are, but go where they must.
The longer the journey went the more the doubts crept in. 
I am a king! I must lead.
Arthur signaled again silently and they continued the agonizingly slow crawl along the dirt and grass. The Islers were all brilliant at being quiet, with their feet as well as their mouths.  As luck would have it, The Islers, were the only ones among his forces who would be more than happy to fight Rome. What would he do with the rest? I am half Roman. His Gods, his was way of fighting, his father’s style of leadership, all came from Roman teachings. Even if he did think it was the right thing to do, there was no way not to make an enemy of Rome. And no way not to cause dissension in his ranks.The church the Rose Knights were hauled up in was made of stone, only a single cylindrical tower, but quite tall, which is why it was difficult to breach.  And made more difficult because it was surrounded by a moat and on high ground. Clearly, Syagrius had decided to simply starve them out once attempts to storm the church’s walls had killed too many of his men.
He is patient.

What can we do against this many?
Sir John was most impressive at silently stalking through the terrain. And Arthur had to respect the fact that the Rose Knight had managed to somehow escape the siege and sneak through a camp this large to find his way to Albion.The camp slept, except no doubt, for men ordered to keep watch.  But night after night, with no end for three turns made men complacent, Arthur knew. Furthermore, these Roman soldiers had no reason to suspect anyone would come to the Rose Knights’ aid.Arthur waved the boy to him. Asking if his squire could tell how many guards were actually keeping watch. Mordred whispered that only six guards in the entire camp were actually awake and performing the duty.Arthur was quick to assess what was to be done. If we could slip within the lines, and blend in with the Romans, we could smuggle the food in.I am Roman. I can waltz in here, declare I am King Arthur of Albion and offer Syagrius my assistance without anyone batting an eyelid. Pretending he wasn’t who he was, wearing false symbols and sneaking around wasn’t his way. He was proudly Roman. Arthur felt sick, and yet he persisted. Giving food to starving men was one thing, he’d need to weigh up whether or not he would attempt to break the Roman siege more seriously once he could appraise the situation in the harsh light of day. If we even can! We are 25 men. They approached in a direction none of the duty-bound six were set on. Mordred, dressed as a squire, was the least likely to be noticed, walked into the camp first, as if he had just filled up his knight’s water skins. He went unchallenged, and was able to walk past the tents and low fires. Once he got closer to the church on the inner most part of the siege camp, he then laid down, until anyone who had noticed him, had all but forgotten, then he crawled along the ground.  He was communicating with Morgause, somehow. It was something Mordred could do with the other Islers, speak directly into their minds, in a way no one else could hear. Arthur found it baffling, but he knew it also had to be true. Morgause was barely audibly relaying events to Arthur.The She Knight whispered, “Mordred says no one paid him any mind.”Arthur felt it simply too dangerous for all of them to try the same. Squires by their very nature were left to their duties and largely ignored by guards, soldiers and knights. Arthur knew if he, and Alvarr were to attempt such, they would be stopped and questioned. And no Roman guard worth their salt, would let a knight through that they didn’t recognize by sight. And Morgause was very conspicuous, dressed in mail as she was. All Roman centurions were 80 men, each with its own leader. And every leader knew every one of their men’s faces by sight. And every Roman soldier knew his direct commander’s name. If they were stopped and failed to give the name, they would be arrested for sure. There were at least six centuria here, making up a Roman Legion. And as much as Arthur frequently fought against poor odds, this was… beyond his capabilities even with magical knights by his side.Caellan suggested they simply float the barrels to Mordred, who could from his position at the edge of the moat, then use his mind to direct the barrels in the air into the church window.Arthur shook his head, before quietly replying, “Surely someone will notice.”The dark-haired healer spoke barely able to be heard, a smirk crossing her features, “Not if the night were to become very thick with mist.”Arthur considered it, and thought it a sensible idea. They were in the dark half of the year, where the nights were getting longer. He nodded his blessing.She didn’t say any words. Arthur saw a gold ring flash in her eye, and all the healer did was hold up her hand.  What was so impressive about her use of magic, was how cleverly she applied it. Rather than make the whole camp, suddenly, miraculously foggy. She did it slowly. Tired as they all were, the wise woman had the right of it. The air became a little bit misty. Little by little, they waited, still, until the view from where they were, didn’t extend to even the next tent. John had attached a message to each barrel, scrawled on a parchment written in ink, similar to the scroll they had given Arthur himself. John had drawn that same Rose symbol that came out in the fire on the message he was given.Mordred, Caellan, Alvarr and Morgause seemed to all communicate with each other with no words. The three sorcerers, each floated one barrel at a time to Mordred, with them telling him where it was silently, and him ensuring that the direction was on target and not going to hit anything. It was all painstakingly slow, and the largest portion of the night was required for the task at hand. And the longer they remained a stone’s throw from the Roman camp, they increased their chances of discovery. Mordred was tasked with floating the barrels in through the narrow tower window. Arthur couldn’t see it for himself, and there was no hint of light up there. They probably didn’t have any oil or candles still in supply.  Arthur felt himself holding his breath. Even during a new moon, what they were doing was so risky.He heard his father’s voice in his head, Coward! Traitor! Or was that his own conscience?Once the supplies were in, Mordred let Morgause know. Then Arthur’s tiny band of misfits had no time to waste. They feared the starving might celebrate the food too loudly, alerting the camp to them.  But no sounds were heard from inside.The Rose Knights are very careful. They won’t eat until they are sure the food is from Sir John. They won’t celebrate. A brave knight will eat first in case it’s a trap and the food is poisoned. To live like that, he mused, ‘tis a rough existence.Arthur led them back to camp, making it in time to get precious little sleep before daybreak. He had muddled dreams of Morgana and those sword fighting children had been in it too, just a little memory that wasn’t, from the Kingmaking on the Isle three turns ago now. Upon waking and realizing it all wasn’t real he’d felt a lump in his throat and his chest had gotten so heavy. Another lifetime.
It wasn’t a vision of the future after all.
He hoped there were people on The Isle providing Morgana with comfort after her loss. Their loss. Then his chest felt stabbing pains, and he pushed the feelings back down.
I am the king and I have to lead.
))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))“You are thinking about how hard this is,” Hella told her.Morgana was so frustrated she was ready to cry. That was exactly what she had been saying in her head. Word for word. They had been at mindfulness training for half a turn, and she still wasn’t any closer to being able to block Hella, let alone Mordred. They were sitting on a large fallen tree stump outside Hella’s hut.“I think I’ll boil the kettle,” Hella simply stated, her kind green eyes, empathizing with Morgana’s frustration. The older woman, with the long grey hair, had gotten up to go back inside.Morgana remained staring at the beautiful green trees around. Hella had apple trees with large, rosey red apples hanging off them.The older woman often did this whenever Morgana got frazzled. Hella would impose a relaxation of sorts. For which Morgana was eternally grateful. She was more tired these days, now that she was rapidly expanding in all directions.The weather had turned cold with Samhain now approaching. They weren’t going to attempt the sénance. With Arthur gone there was no point. He wouldn’t believe it, unless he saw her mother asked the questions about who had fathered her, in front of him. And once they called upon her mother, they would only get one chance. When you tear the veil between the worlds to communicate with the dead, if they answer you at all, they only come for one evening. Once the door is closed, it is closed forever. Morgana’s heart yearned to speak to her mother. Even just to show her how she had grown, and ask her so many questions. Was Father with her? Was there any point even if Arthur were back? Truth be told, he hadn’t waited for her. He was married now, so even if they found out they were not kin, Arthur would no longer care. It wasn’t just that he had proposed to Gwen, it was that, that look, the hungry look that he had for her had gone suddenly one day. And no matter how she dressed, the looks or touches she gave him, nothing returned his desire for her.
Stupid fool!
Let him have his swords and his knights and his adventures. She wanted to talk to her mother for her own reasons. Morgause had forbade her back when Uther’s Will had first surfaced. Her sister had argued that Arthur might come to his senses one day, and they would need the option to speak to Vivienne then, so Morgana was not to attempt the séance for now.Hella was back soon enough with two ceramic cups, steaming in her hands.“I’ve put fresh milk and honey in it,” The older woman advised, handing it over.They sat enjoying the hot drink, and fine greenery and the sounds of nature; birds calling and water flowing. The Isle was always so alive with life.Hella enlightened her, “When you have unresolved worries, it can be make mindfulness harder to achieve.”Morgana could see the sense in that. But she had no control over the resolution of her stresses. Someone tried to kill her unborn child by feeding her herbs that would have brought on a miscarriage. Who that was, she didn’t know. And she couldn’t simply think her way clear of that actual threat. Anymore, than she could force Arthur to tell her what had happened, why he suddenly fell out of love with her, why he didn’t wait.  And the nightmare she had about the eclipse, that was simply too awful and raw for words right now. She’d woken in a cold sweat, and wished she couldn’t have remembered her dream. Was it a vision? She wasn’t sure. Visions usually felt different. Morgana couldn’t really explain all of her distractions and worries right now, so her friend would just need to be patient.Hella, whom didn’t need her to speak anyway, seemed to decide that training was over for the day.“There’s a ceremony for pregnant women, all those with child begotten at Beltane, or there abouts.”Morgana remembered Cerridwyn had mentioned it to her the other day. The other Lady of the Lake would lead the ceremony and teach Morgana at the same time, as it was the High Priestess’ duty, but Morgana would be a participant as well.All she really knew was to meet at the sacred spring at midnight in a quarter turn or so.Hella gestured to Morgana’s belly. “I can tell based on how a woman is carrying, if she’s having a girl or a boy,” Hella explained.Morgana didn’t know how to tell, but wise women, even in Camelot claimed to know a baby’s sex. But she’d never paid any mind before. Did she want to know?Her friend insisted, “I’ve never been wrong.”Morgana nodded, “Okay, then.”“That there’s a boy.”Morgana didn’t realize until that moment, that maybe she had been hoping for a girl a little too badly. But given all the ‘king with magic’ predictions hurled her way, she’d known all along. She didn’t feel up to a boy. Especially given her dream last night.“Will he be healthy?” Morgana asked, did Hella know things like that?Hella slipped her hand inside Morgana’s black priestess robes, which was easy enough because it was a wrap-around garment that sashed at the waist.  The wise woman put her palm flat against Morgana’s skin below her belly button. The old woman closed her eyes and focused.“So far so good,” The greying healer said eventually.Morgana couldn’t help but feel she was being made the fool, “You don’t really know, do you?”Hella cracked a huge smile, displaying her kind eyes, “Beware those who claim to know the future.”“Why?”Hella was quick with her answer, matter-o-fact, “Because only the Goddess herself knows, and she doesn’t waste her time telling us.”She might have liked an assurance all would be fine with their child. Arthur’s warning about sickly children and incest had bothered her enough that she had asked Caellan about it around the time of the ball, who had all but confirmed it was true. We are not brother and sister! And her healthy baby was going to prove it to herself. They had made that child in love, and he was going to be perfect. )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))Arthur was in no mood, due to his poor sleep, but he had to force himself up. He led a small group of his best knights with Sir John to the high point where their camp was, where he could best appraise the situation. Now that it was dawn the extent of the siege became clear. Rome was well stocked in horses, armor, weapons, rations. Trenches and stakes marked a perimeter. And Syagrius’ men were erecting catapults, that appeared nearly finished. The Roman-built stone church tower that had probably stood for 300 years, wasn’t going to withstand large boulders being flung against it. This siege was days away from being over.  And all the ordained King Arthur of Greater Camelot had brought with him was; twenty-five young knights, their squires, a minimal number of servants, a healer and John. Arthur could see the largest, royal red tent with the large golden eagle sigil flying above. The tent would be Syagrius’. He waited to get the measure of the Roman Commander. His dark hair was kept very short and neat, he was maybe 40, not as tall as one might expect, muscular, dressed in the Roman fashion and could be easily picked out by his trailing sycophants.He motioned for Mordred to come forth.Arthur pointed out the Roman commander, asking the boy, “Can you hear him?”Mordred listened a good long while, before he nodded. “He’s thinking about breaking his fast and having a close shave.”Arthur was ready to laugh.“Keep listening, and come find me tonight. I want to know what he knows about the Holy Grail.”He boy nodded and went back to his position.Arthur motioned Sir John forward, “What do you expect us to do in the face of an army?” Arthur wondered, his voice barely above a whisper.John spoke with the conviction of a martyr, “I have faith in you, King Arthur.” He seemed irrationally hopeful, “where no other man can succeed, I believe you will.”Arthur was dismayed, “We are excellent fighters, but these odds, well, it’d take a miracle.”Sir John wasn’t deterred in the slightest, “The whole of Rome would be no match for you, I have faith that almighty God will give you victory, King Arthur.”Arthur felt like a failure, and a false hero not worthy of praise. Outside of divine intervention, I don’t see what we can possibly do.Arthur couldn’t help but notice, “Sir John, your grasp of Albion’s common tongue appears to have miraculously improved!”Sir John blushed. “Forgive me, King Arthur,” He took a knee and bowed his head, “our cause is greater than any human allegiances, we keep faith with Almighty God, and answer only to Him.”Yes, these Rose Knights are a sly bunch.  Or fanatics, he considered as an afterthought.  John had conveniently been unable to answer any questions about the besiegers.
I must know what the Holy Grail is. I cannot decide if it is right to help them without that information.
Sir Alvarr smiled wryly, “I have an idea.”)))))) Arthur had only warmed to The Isle Knight, Sir Alvarr a little so far.  The man was clever in a scheming sort of way that made Arthur weary of him. Even this plan of his to lift the siege showed that hint of fox, something Arthur knew he lacked.  The ash blonde sorcerer was handsome, and charming. An excellent warrior, for sure, he wouldn’t begrudge his knight that.  No one could say he didn’t have his uses. But it was the cunning nature of the plan, it was dishonorable, and not something Arthur himself could have come up with.  But it was ingenious.Alvarr showed Morgause and Caellan how, and Mordred helped too.  They used their magic, Arthur had no idea how, but they made the Loire River flow with blood, thick and dark red, it even smelled of copper.  It was a sight that sickened the sturdiest of stomachs. But as the charming sorcerer had explained to his king, that it was nothing more than a simple trick to the senses, handing Arthur a skin he had filled in the river, urging him to taste it.  It was in fact water, the same as before, it was hard to believe.But believe it they did, the Roman’s became very concerned as to how they would now maintain their siege.   Commander Syagrius insisted his men refer to him as Dux, something Arthur recalled Father telling him of the man.  It indicated a certain pompous nature.  Syagrius sent scouts off with barrels and carts to haul water from the nearest unaffected water source.They returned to base camp, satisfied that they had caused some dissension for now. Mordred brought him his tea again, since Argyle had become lazy all of a sudden. But since Arthur didn’t enjoy his humorless manservant’s company very much, so he wasn’t about to complain. Dinner was cottage pie, and Arthur split it with the boy again.Mordred didn’t need to be reminded of the task Arthur had set him, “All the Roman commander thought was that he doesn’t understand why they don’t give up. He promised them their lives if they hand over the Holy Grail.”Interesting. “And?”“And none of them took up his offer,” The boy stated, shrugging.“What is the Holy Grail?” Arthur asked.Mordred shrugged, “He thinks it is very important and very powerful. But he didn’t think clearly about what it is.”All the secrecy was more annoying than anything right now.Arthur patted the boy on the back, encouraging him, “Keep listening, I want to know, what he knows about it.”Mordred nodded.“Do you want another story?”The boy’s face lit up.“Anything you like.”“Tell me about the first time you met mother.”That story, he recalled well. He told of her arriving in Camelot with Father, 10 years-old, her eyes were red rimmed, having only just buried her father. Morgana was wearing breaches, sword on hip. And Father let her get away with all sorts of bad behavior. She’d thrown a pheasant at Father, the king, and screamed at him the first time they’d all had dinner together. Arthur recalled thinking it was most unfair, that if he’d gone on like that, Father would have beaten him. Morgana had soon challenged Arthur to a dual. And he’d refused to hit a girl. But she’d drawn her blunted practice sword and started landing blows on his arm, forcing him to defend himself. She was older and a little bigger than him then and so he had struggled to fend her off.Mordred enjoyed the tale very much.They began to practice together all the time, whenever they could get away from prying eyes. And it had been fun for a few turns. Until she’d hit him in the head badly, and once he became forgetful, Morgana had gotten scared, and had sort Gaius, to examine him. Their secret swordplay no longer secret, had ended with Father taking away her sword, and breaches and threatening blood murder if she disobeyed him.“Did she disobey him?” Mordred asked.“Yes and no.”“She continued to practice with a stick and she’d watch me train, but we stopped practicing together.”“Was she better than you?”Arthur was offended the boy had asked. “She was older and bigger than me then, I was younger than you are now.”“So, yes?” Mordred tried to clarify.The Islers never do know when to stop talking!“She wished she was better,” Arthur concluded, and decided he’d had enough for the evening.Mordred clearly wanted more details, but had to accept that was all for now.)))))))))))) The next day Alvarr made frogs appear everywhere in the camp.  Arthur wasn’t sure how the magic worked, whether the frogs were real or it was another trick to the eye. While not particularly dangerous, the soldiers were disgusted by the sudden infestation. On the third day the sorcerers used magic to produce lice, wasps and boils. How Morgause knew a spell for giving a man boils, Arthur didn’t want to know.  Mordred worked out the lice, it was very simple in the end.  The boy was able to take a real lice off of John and make it multiply by looking at it in his hand, then he stared at the lice and made them float, handfuls of them into the unsuspecting men’s tents as they slept. Men scratched themselves bloody, and couldn’t sleep or focus on any task, such was the irritation. Others were stung by the swarm of wasps. Had Alvarr summoned them, or created the wasps with magic, Arthur didn’t ask. But effective they were. By afternoon a great unease settled over the whole camp. Mordred relayed that the Roman soldiers had begun to whisper of the great plagues sent unto Egypt when they incurred the wrath of God for their enslavement of the Jews.The superstition grew among the besiegers that they had angered God.  Men began praying and crossing themselves.  Syagrius grew quickly frustrated with the squeamishness of his men.  But all his threats of whipping and shaming did no good.  It was nothing compared to his men’s fear of burning in hellfire for eternity.  Mordred relayed it all.The next plague God visited unto the Egyptians had been a plague that killed the livestock.  So, with the next passing day, Morgause enchanted about 20 Roman horses into a deep sleep, from which they couldn’t be shaken awake.  The belly kicks from the Roman soldiers in the morning weren’t enough to rouse them, and that was when the first men began to flee, quietly into the woods not to return.Syagrius was outraged, at his men’s cowardice. He yelled at centurion leaders, he whipped and shamed those remaining. But a man’s faith runs deep, being scared of your commanding officer, is a different thing to fearing an eternity in hellfire. The next day The Islers cast another spell. They made the dark clouds gather, and a biting hail rained down on the camp followed by lightening, and thunder that seemed to shake the whole ground.  The total darkness remained and would have for another three days if there had been a need for it. The remaining men whom had kept their composure, were done also.  They ran.  Commander Syagrius was red in the face yelling orders, but there were too few left to listen.  The siege had been broken most thoroughly. It was another day before the last of the Romans had left the lands entirely. There was no fight in the end.  And Arthur was relieved they didn’t get to the final plague. He had fought Rome, with Rome none the wiser that he had intervened. And his knights, except for The Islers, had remained at the base camp, and were unaware they had even been intervening against Rome at all. None of it sat well with him. But who said ruling was simple?They took furs, and skins of water with them as the small group of Arthur, his sorcerers and John approached the tower. Caellan had made a broth that morning by boiling bones of game hunted in the base camp. She had instructed the small group not to give the starving their own food because their bellies wouldn’t cope with rich meat right away.Morgause woke the Roman’s horses. Arthur was the first to enter the tower, once they had used one of Rome’s fallen siege towers to bridge the mote. The smell was awful, a sort of rotting flesh, and infection, human sweat and bodily fluids. Arthur resolved to keep his composure, they had been through an ordeal and he would not shame them. John was only a step behind, and Caellan at his heels.The top floor of the winding stone staircase had a narrow doorway. The Rose Knights, and some women and children under their protection were lying down to conserve energy and stay warm.  They looked very gaunt.John spoke first, “King Arthur of Greater Camelot is come.”No one stood in his presence, a sign of their weak state, rather than disrespect.“God bless you, King Arthur,” One of the Rose Knights spoke.Most of the group were weeping, with joy, exhaustion and relief. While Arthur still hadn’t learned what the Holy Grail was, as John said he couldn’t divulge it under pain of death, and Mordred so far had come up empty too, he didn’t regret what he had done to break the siege. To see these desperate, starved people, now free and safe, was its own reward.  Caellan was quick to act.  She had Argyle fetching her water at first light, that she dripped through a linen cloth into a metal pot and boiled.  She had let it cool and filled many skins, all hanging on long leather straps across her body. She went around, and gave them out, while looking for the worst afflicted, no doubt to give them care first. There were some children to Arthur’s surprise. None younger than about five, through to young maids. Maybe another ten grown women. How they had survived even this long. One of the strangest observations he made was that the Rose Knights appeared to be in the worst shape. The thinnest. Like they had given their rations to the women and the children, and not eaten themselves. There were no longer 50 Rose Knights as John had said. Maybe three dozen.The Rose Knights had flowing beards, matted and dirty, like every inch of them. They had no water to waste on bathing. The Rose Knights wore white tunics over their armor with a red rose the only symbol. Their tunics weren’t white anymore, they were brown and grey due to the lengthy build up without washing.Their leader appeared to be a tall man, of large frame. He was maybe 50, with brown hair streaked grey, that was coarse around his strong jawline, and kind eyes. He wore a special gold-plated inlay on his breast plate with the rose symbol on it. His red cape also had a gold trim. He came over and Arthur extended his hand, but the Rose Knight pulled him into a bear hug. Arthur wore no crown, nor adornments that marked him out, and yet, he was still known.“God tested our faith, but we held firm!” He cried, “King Arthur, you are a miracle sent straight from Almighty God!”Nathanial finally let him go, and tried now to get the measure of the king in front of him. Arthur had no idea what to say to the man.“Well, Sir John brought me your… message, about the… distress, how could I not answer?” He affirmed humbly.“I am Nathanial, Master Rose Knight,” He took a knee, to show Arthur great respect.“Arthur,” He said, feeling as awkward as he sounded.Nathanial the Master Knight was amazed, “How did you do that? With the blood and the locusts, and that thunderstorm? It’s not possible, King Arthur!”“I know that what you’ve heard of my rule is my religious tolerance,” Arthur began, they were being crowded around now by Greater Camelot Knights and Rose Knights.“That was why we reached out to you, King Arthur,” Nathanial confirmed.“My kingdom allows sorcerers the freedom to be themselves openly,” Arthur was proud to speak of his achievement thus far, “I have knighted two sorcerers.”Arthur gestured to Morgause and Alvarr whom both stepped forward and took a knee in front of the Master Rose Knight.“It was Sir Alvarr’s idea,” Arthur explained, “To use their superstition against them, that they had drawn the wrath of God.”Nathanial rested a large hand on Alvarr’s back, and encouraged him to stand so he could embrace him warmly.“We are indebted to you all,” Sir Nathanial said, “I shall praise God for each and every one of your souls.”“We need a safe place to make camp,” Arthur stated, hoping a local might make a suggestion, as they couldn’t remain out in the open here.Nathanial said what was apparent, “I fear we are too weak for much travel, King Arthur.”It was Caellan whose voice rose above the large crowd, “I know a safe place, not far from here.”“Where?” Nathanial queried.“Grand Lieu,” The tall, raven-haired healer, was adamant.A handsome dark-haired Rose Knight disagreed, “Lac de Grand-Lieu.”John repeated in English, “That’s a lake. Lady, we’d be out in the open, we can’t…”She corrected, “A lake with a hidden isle.”The young knight argued, “It’s a large lake with many small wetlands areas, fit only for birds.”“The largest, deepest part of the lake, has a hidden isle, that cannot be seen from the banks,” Caellan insisted, “The Lake is so very vast and the island so very small and well-hidden by mists that unless you cross knowing exactly where to aim your boat, you will never find the isle.”There was a low rumble of disbelief among the Rose Knights, but no one raised a clear voice of opposition.Arthur felt her persistence uncomfortable as far as courtly manners were concerned, but she appeared sure. Arthur spoke up that they should listen to Caellan, as she is a healer and a wise woman, and that ended all debate.With that settled, the Rose Knights led the group in a succinct prayer.Nathanial spoke, and the group bowed their heads, “To Father and the Holy Spirit, we give our thanks that your hand can be seen in the actions of King Arthur and his brave knights, who have come to us in our hour of need. Their kindness shall never be forgotten. We give sacrifice gladly, as Jesus was sacrificed to teach humanity a different way.”Arthur found their wording a little odd. But that was to be expected.“May you bless them and help us be truly thankful for the miracle He has given us. Amen.”Arthur felt pride at what they had achieved with so little. Even he’d thought the task impossible. Maybe God had smiled upon them all. Not that Alvarr was any type of Christian, but he didn’t think that was worth mentioning to their honored guests.Alvarr had procured a wooden cart, Rome had left behind in their haste.  He dragged it to the base of the church. Arthur, Morgause, Alvarr and John carried the weak and starving, those unable to walk down to the cart.Mordred assisted Caellan. A maybe five people were in very bad shape, coughing, or too weak to stand. Caellan decided who would travel in the cart, and who could ride on a horse. The Islers ended up leading their own horses, with Rose Knights or the women under their protection riding side saddle.They traveled south west, trying to pick up one of the streams that fed the great lake.  Some of the Roman provisions had been abandoned, and they happily took them too. Arthur rode his black stallion, his pride and joy, Victory.Caellan was kneeling in one of the wooden carts examining a young girl, her front teeth were missing, signifying she was around five or six-years old. She was skinny, with matted dark hair and big brown eyes. The healer was telling the child to breathe deeply, and felt her hand up the child’s back. Caellan was demonstrating when the girl didn’t understand her words. Caellan then instructed Arthur to take the child on his horse, which he did. She said, those with coughs needed to be kept away from those without. Arthur was out the front with Sir Nathanial, who advised that he had his grandniece, Jeanne, on his horse. Arthur asked Nathanial if he would prefer to take her, and he did. So, Arthur had handed the child over. They rode at a very slow pace. Arthur waited patiently to be let in on the secret, but when it became apparent Sir Nathanial wasn’t going to speak freely, he decided to check on the sick.Caellan was riding on the cart, that Alvarr had being pulled by six Roman horses.“Lady,” He asked from his saddle, “when did you travel to Gaul?” He hoped she spoke the common tongue.Caellan looked up, “I never said I’d been here.”Huh? Arthur insisted, “Then why are you so sure about the hidden isle?”She replied simply, “Someone from The Isle of Mists told me about it.”Arthur was horrified, that he appeared to have misled their honored guests, but he supposed that couldn’t be helped now.“Then how do you intend to find that hidden isle?” He queried.Caellan advised, “I’ve been told the way, there are three very old and very large Hawthorn trees. One on the north bank, and the other two on the south and east banks. If you were to fly as the crow from the midpoint between each one, the isle is exactly at the intersection of the three.”“Then why don’t they know about it?” They appeared to be locals after all.Her answer made enough sense, “The currents run in such a way that boats are deterred from finding the isle by chance, and the mists ensure you wouldn’t know it if you were next to it.”The lake they called grand was aptly named. Because it was huge, and beautiful, with pure waters, and lily pads on the surface. Water birds, and lush flowers, and trees growing along the banks.  There was something about it, a feel perhaps? He didn’t really go in for this stuff, energy and magic, but he was learning there was so much about which he knew nothing, so he was trying to just accept that he didn’t understand some things.Arthur was intent to let them camp on the banks of Grand Lieu for the evening, and relocate first thing in the morning. But, despite their exhaustion, Sir Nathanial wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted they only camp once in a secure, hidden spot.Upon arrival, Arthur sent Morgause, Alvarr and Mordred around the perimeter looking for the large Hawthorn trees on the bank.  When they found them they were going to use magic to send a beam of light across the surface of the lake. Arthur took Caellan out on one of the little rowboats to look for the point of intersection.  She wasn’t kidding about the mists.Caellan was always at her work, something Arthur was increasingly noticing about her. She stood in the boat, while he rowed, looking constantly for the signs of magic. Mordred had taken the eastern bank, where their large party was gathered, so his beam of light could be seen first, but until there was another line from presumably Morgause, his line was only a guess.Arthur was less comfortable than he should have been to be alone with Caellan. Without the braids and the robes she looked more like a Lady of Camelot. He was newly wed to the kindest woman alive. Why was he even noticing?“Was this isle used by magical people?” He asked, simply wanting to make polite conversation to avoid total silence.“Yes, it was like The Isle of Mists in Gaul. Until…”“Until?”“Rome.”Arthur knew he probably didn’t want to hear what had happened. And Caellan would probably be upset at the telling of it.“Why did you choose healing?” Arthur asked.Caellan softened some, her kind blue eyes looking contemplative as a smile crossed her features, “My mother.”“She was a healer?”“No,” She stared somberly off onto the fog, “she died young.”He wanted to ask how, but felt that was rude, if she didn’t offer the information.“She died in child birth.”“And the baby?” He asked.Caellan shook her head. They both remained silent. What was there to say.She eventually offered more, “I was only twelve.”Was it easier for him that he had never known his mother at all? He didn’t think so, he’d give anything to have had twelve years’ worth of his mother’s love and affection.“My mother died in childbirth too,” He added, not sure that was true anymore. If father had made a deal for his life to be granted at the sacrifice of someone else’s, then his mother didn’t die because of his birth but because of Father’s deal struck with the Priestess Nimueh.Did that relieve his guilt? Not really, he’d grown up feeling responsible for her death every day, so finding out so much later that might not be so, made him want to swing his sword over and over again at an image of his father’s face. But Father was dead now, so there was no point in dwelling.“What was she like?” Arthur asked. Morgana’s mother had died young, Gwen’s too. He hardly knew any mothers. They were an idea more than a memory. So he was always curious.Caellan looked at him then, finding his question odd perhaps.“My mother was Sian. She was very kind, and loved to sing, and used to kiss me and tell me fairy stories. And she made the most delicious porridge, and she’d take me out into the woods and tell me to listen to the trees. She’d ask me if I could hear them speaking.” Caellan recalled it all with a far away look in her eye, and a warm smile crossing her features.“Can you hear trees… speaking?” Arthur felt like an idiot even asking, but with The Islers who can tell when then really mean it? Nothing they can do makes any sort of sense.She shook for no. “I don’t think that’s what she meant,” Caellan enlightened him, “I think she meant that nature is alive, and it shouldn’t be ignored.”Morgause must have reached the southern bank next and finally there was a cross over. Mordred and Morgause alined their beam of light with each other’s. Arthur rowed up and down that glimpse of light, waiting to find the point Alvarr’s would intersect. He was tasked with the farthest point, so it might be a while.Arthur chatted easily enough about not much. He asked Caellan if she had any intention to marry, he could arrange a knight for her if she desired. She politely declined. He said that in a court like Camelot, unwed women of a certain age were frowned upon. Caellan appeared annoyed, but kept herself under control. That was true and he didn’t make the rules. He momentarily recalled Bayard being sore that Morgana hadn’t married him. Maybe he could offer Caellan if she’d consider it. He was an old man, maybe she wouldn’t have to do too many wifely duties. But she was The Isle’s adviser to the round table now with Morgana gone, and surely, the Mercian King would want to take her back to the cold wilds in the north. He’d need to rethink that. Caellan was a strong woman, he doubted she’d agree. And maybe Bayard would take her without any nobility to speak of.It was a long time, the sunset had been and gone. But they found it. The mists made it hard to tell time of day, like The Isle on Avalon Lake. The intersecting beam of white light. It was further north than where he’d been paddling. Arthur was just complaining that there was nothing here, and that they had made this journey for no good reason, when the boat suddenly ran ashore. He almost tipped out. Caellan stepped out to avoid falling. It was an isle alright. Small, but real. There were lush trees with apples on them in plain view. It was overgrown like no people had been living here in some time.The sun was well set. Arthur told the healer to wait while he looked about. She used magic to light his path while staying in the boat. Perhaps to subtly remind him, he needed her. Obviously, there was a water source, but was there a suitable place to take shelter? He walked through the tangle of trees, and it wasn’t too long before he was satisfied that they would be well-hidden here.It took until midnight, but they ferried across the lake, a dozen people at a time in the two little boats, being guided by the magical beam of light.Now they made camp, fires for warmth, tents, furs and skins were distributed to the boney and weary Rose Knights. Hopefully Arthur had proven himself worthy and would be let in on the secret now. What is the Holy Grail and why do Rome want it so badly?Arthur was exhausted by the time he returned to base camp. He’d discussed with Sir Nathanial the plan. He didn’t want his knights knowing they had been besieged by Rome, and the Rose Knights would prefer no one see them at all. It wasn’t ideal, but Arthur had been keeping his plans close to his chest, despite Lancelot and Gawaine asking what was happening and were they needed for the battle.He led the base camp to the shores of Grand Lieu, but they were not told of The Isle. The sorcerers stayed to assist the weak and sick, but to everyone else, he simply said the siege had already ended by the time they got there. Arhtur said they would enjoy some hunting in these parts, and that he’d heard there was said to be a dragon in these parts. A large scaley, fire breathing dragon. The first man to kill it was promised a chest of gold coins. It ensured his men we consumed with hunting in the woods, so they were constantly brining back smaller animals, that Arthur was secretly having ferried across the lake to keep the Rose Knights and villagers fed. If his men noticed Caellan had vanished, no one said anything. ))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))You didn’t need to be told that the Sacred Spring was sacred. It was something you felt just being around it. The pool wasn’t large, and the water only shallow. No bigger than her chambers had been in Camelot. The water was a most pure blue green, and the air smelled crisp. There was a rocky ledge the pool backed onto. The water of the spring flowed out of the side of the long weathered, tan rockface, with creeping vines and green moss growing upon the surface. The water was purified by the sand and stone it had to pass through after it had seeped into the ground.  It was tranquil. The stream of water made a gurgling sound that was soothing.Morgana liked to walk past it whenever she was taking a stroll during the day, which she frequently did. Yes, she had duties or organizing and learning for her new role of High Priestess, but Cerridwyn was all too happy to take on extra while Morgana wanted to enjoy being pregnant. She was safe here, and her child was safe.This was the first time Morgana was coming to the spring at night. The full moon lit up the path enough for her to find her way. Harwyn had arrived at her hut to escort her as well. He was a kind and gentle young man and Morgana found she could tolerate his company easily. He was sweet and respectful. He didn’t have his crow perched upon his shoulder tonight, saying that she preferred the day for her scavenging. His sharp nose, dark hair and eyes, made the young warg look like a crow himself.There was a ring of Hawthorn trees, which had roots encircling the pool of water. And the circle of trees created a clearing in the thick bush surrounding to get a view of the full moon.A circle had been marked in the earth with the five points of the star representing the elements and the spirit. Each expectant mother had made her own pentacle constructed of sticks and twine. Morgana had fastened medicinal herbs to her pentacle, to symbolize the good health she wanted the Goddess to bless her child with; rosemary, basil, chamomile, feverfew and apple blossom.The Cup of Life, the Religion of the Triple Goddess’ most magical and sacred object of their religion was on display, on the small stone altar. It was gold, a perfect semi-circular shape, with a thick stem and fine metal work to produce small rope patterns. It had a sturdy round base, with three legs that were dragons, with wings in full flight, allowing it to stand tall. The disk at the base had fine metal work, including a layer of crosses, not Christian crosses, even crosses, but they were removed and could be viewed as a pattern of what was missing.  You could feel its power just being near it. Cerridwyn had all the expectant mothers sit around the edge of the pool, nine in total, including Morgana and Eilan.  Obviously, for a ceremony such as this the cup was being used in a symbolic way. Cerridwyn filled up the chalice with water and each pregnant woman would drink from the cup, symbolizing life. It was refilled each time a woman drained the gold cup. And Cerridwyn would say the words of a protection spell calling on Mother Earth herself to bless and protect each growing life. Morgana drained the cup when it was held to her lips, it was sweeter an unlike any water anywhere else. She heard Cerridwyn say “Bless this child with fire, with water, with wind and earth, may the Goddess work her wisdom and will to keep this child safe.”Morgana had left Morgause to the task of figuring out who was the wolf laying in wait at Arthur’s court, but it certainly couldn’t hurt to have more support.Ishtar was The Isle’s most accomplished midwife. She attended and watched on. Morgana was fond of her. She was around 50 years, her hair was greying, but had been very dark and wavy, she had large brown eyes, with prominent lashes and sun kissed skin. She had big lips and a prominent hooked nose, like so many from the lands much further East where there were sandy lands and animals with huge humps that could travel great distances without water. She had come to be on the Isle later in life, having been born somewhere in the Eastern Roman Empire, where they practiced magic differently. Caellan had been her main apprentice for years and spoke very highly of her skills and commitment to healing. She would deliver all of these babies and Morgana felt very safe in her hands.The group were by no means alone. Some from the Wise Council attended, but most were just onlookers, more women than men, but that was no surprise. Hella was there, and Morgana smiled at her.Ishtar made her way around the circle, offering each expectant mother, gifts of nature. She chose each item specifically for the woman, and for the child, what she knew they needed.Morgana was given a black candle with lavender oil. And a small athame. Ishtar instructed her to carve a single word on the candle of what was bothering her the most.ECLIPSEThat was all she wrote. It was only for her after all. She was told to light it and watch it burn, and to focus on letting the feelings of fear go with it was she watched it burn down to nothing. It was a long time of watching the flame dance. Thankfully it was a still night. Between her swirling fears and her fatigue, it was challenging. But, there was something incredibly soothing about it.The ceremony was quite long, and Morgana found herself longing for her bed by the end. But there was something nice about bringing in their community, that the child wouldn’t be just hers, but there’s. They were a collective in everything. Harwyn escorted her back to her hut, and asked if she’d found it helpful. She thanked him and he said a polite goodnight to her. She slept much better once she laid her head down.