

Tales From Camelot Series • Book One

PENDRAGON

paul green
Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Tales From Camelot Series

Reader Recommendation

Acknowledgements

Cover Page

From the author ...

Map of Pretania

~ History of Kings ~

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

~ Fate ~

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

~ Inception ~

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

~ The Call ~

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

~ King ~

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

~ Descent ~

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

~ Prince ~

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

~ Sister ~

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

~ Destiny ~

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Notes to the reader ...

Previews

Tales From Camelot Series

Second Chance Series

About the Author . . .

# Copyright Notice

www.TalesFromCamelot.com   
www.SecondChanceNovels.com

Copyright 2012 Paul Green All Rights Reserved.

First Printing: February 2012  
Second Printing: April 2013  
Third Printing: June 2014

Printed in the United States of America. No part of this work may be used or reproduced, transmitted, stored or used in any form or by any means graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning, digitizing, tapping, Web distribution, information networks or information storage and retrieval systems, or in any manner whatsoever without the express written approval of the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

For further information, contact info@paulgreenauthor

United States laws and regulations are public domain and not subject to copyright. Any unauthorized copying, reproduction, translation, or distribution of any part of this material without permission by the author is prohibited and against the law.
Tales From Camelot Series

**Part One (2012)  
** Book 1: PENDRAGON  
Book 2: CAMELOT  
Book 3: CHAMPION  
Book 4: SORCERESS

**Part Two (2013)  
** Book 5: ROYALS  
Book 6: EXCALIBUR  
Book 7: CURSED  
Book 8: LADY

**Part Three (2014)  
** Book 9: WARLORD  
Book 10: MIRROR   
Book 11: WYVERN  
Book 12: QUEST

**Grand Finale (2014)  
** Book 13: LEGEND

www.TalesFromCamelot.com   
www.SecondChanceNovels.com

For further information contact info@paulgreenauthor.com

# Reader Recommendation

_Due to the unique subject matter, this series will appeal to a very broad audience: teen to elderly, male and female alike._

_Although some parts may be considered to be too intense for pre-teen or younger readers. Ages 13 and up recommended._

# Acknowledgements

Special thanks to all my reviewers. Your input has been invaluable.

Thank you to my son Christopher for his help in designing the covers.

And extra special thanks to the One who gave me the desire to write.

# _From the author ..._

First a little about the Series. The style of this series is light and fun, adventure/fantasy, filled with wonder and just a dash of romance. It is first and foremost character driven and as such, there will oftentimes be considerable dialogue as opposed to descriptive imagery. Requirements for reading will be a sense of adventure and a sense of humor, a willingness to laugh and cry, and you must be one who enjoys getting to know memorable characters.

One little side comment in regards to that. In some of the opening dialogue between Uther and Igraine, it might at first appear to be a little ... juvenile. Or 'sing-songy' as one reviewer put it. The whole book isn't like that, I promise. It's just my fun little way to help set the mood. And at this juncture I have no intention of changing it. The story 'grows up' pretty quickly, I assure you. This is not a children's book.

Also, this is not hardcore Arthurian, so be forewarned: if you are a more serious student of King Arthur legend and lore, then this probably isn't for you, as there are better books and series out there in that regard. Chances are, you will hate it. However, if you are fascinated by the era of King Arthur and Camelot, and you are the type who likes to kick back and enjoy a warm, feel-good read and you enjoy getting to know memorable characters, then this series will be right up your alley. Now let's get to the book itself.

Dark times before Camelot.

This is the story of a father ... and a son. When I first began delving into the story of Uther Pendragon, I very quickly discovered that this was going to be a deeper and more gripping tale that I had first imagined. Honestly, I didn't know that much about Uther when I first started out. Thus, this book was originally intended to be more or less a simple origins story. But it ended being a whole lot more.

Granted, the story of Uther and Igraine is considered to be a tragedy; that is no secret. But as the story unfolded, I found there was more depth to their characters than I had first understood or realized. Now as an author, I am not one to leave things on a sad or tragic note. The other portion of our story will be bringing Arthur into the picture, thereby leaving us on a much more positive note, and PENDRAGON will end up right at where CAMELOT begins.

Of course, there is certainly the origins aspect. The origins of British kings and House Pendragon. The origins of Camelot and the Knighthood and even such fun things as the Marketplace and Arthur's servants. Second Chance readers take note, you will be introduced to a younger Sir Bors and see how he gradually changes over time; and why. In the persons of Uther and Igraine, you will see where Arthur picks up some of his traits.

Then there is the origin story of Morgan le Fay. If that one doesn't pull at your heartstrings, I don't know what will. After much research, I have decided to do something a little unusual by choosing to draw from the earlier Arthurian legends, rather than the latter (latter meaning Lancelot & adulterous Guinevere, evil Morgan, etc.). For in the earlier Welsh writings, poems and ballads, Guinevere was virtuous and good; and Morgan le Fay (Arthur's little half-sister) was actually an innocent victim of abuse who was rescued and brought in under her big brother's protective wing. Original legends state that Morgan was the youngest of three sisters - Elaine being the eldest and Morgause being the middle sister. Recent Arthurian variations in movies and television tend to merge Morgause and Morgan into a single character - generally an evil sorceress. I've chosen to go with the earlier variations: Morgan is good, Morgause is the evil sorceress, and Elaine is more or less a neutral peacemaker between the two. I will not be delving into Morgan's two sisters at this particular juncture, as this book will only be introducing young Morgan's story. You will meet Elaine and Morgause later on in CHAMPION and SORCERESS. I wasn't expecting it, but as Morgan's story continued to play out, she very much became an endearing character to me; maybe because growing up I myself was a protective big brother to a little sister; who knows.

Another interesting thing I have done is actually keep the story in the 5th century. Most modern Arthurian tales tend to 'cheat' and use Middle Ages/15th century concepts and customs. Gotta tell ya - 5th century life was radically different; an amalgamation of ancient Persian, Greek and Celtic cultures as Rome's western influence had not yet spread worldwide. Suits of armor and jousting with horses wouldn't be invented for another 1,000 years. Individual iron plates fastened to primitive chain mail was only just beginning to be developed, and women were only a notch above the value of horses. This is when royals and nobles typically had many wives and concubines - all of who were purchased property.

Now to be frank, the emergence of King Arthur onto the world scene will eventually bring about all sorts of wonderful changes as this series progresses. But a good portion of PENDRAGON will be dealing with a world prior to the coming of Arthur and the changes he brings about. Thus, there will be a few unpleasantries you will come across. But I try not to get too overly graphic and you will never come across wording or situations that you wouldn't also find in, say ... the Bible. I figure as long as I stay within those kind of boundaries I can safely keep these stories rated at ages 13 and up. But just a forewarning ... there is a little bit of 'stuff' here in this one; but mostly only at the beginning. Unfortunately, this is how life was in the 5th century; especially among those who held power. To fully understand and appreciate the changes that Arthur brings about, we must first paint a dark picture of how things were. Fortunately, things change. Times change. And rules change.

Of course, this is also before Elias (aka. Merlin) enters into Arthur's story, so we also won't be seeing much of him; although there is a brief cameo early on in the story. If you don't know anything about Elias/Merlin, you'll be meeting him in the next book: CAMELOT. And a mysterious raven who keeps protective watch over the Pendragon family. Merlin knows him personally, but other than that, we know very little else about him. You will also be introduced to Fallow; an evil demon creature who has plagued Arthur's ancestors and family tree for centuries.

As for Uther and Igraine themselves, it is important that you know there are actually several different variations of their story. In modern book and movie versions, the general story is that while Igraine is married to the Duke Gorlois of Cornwall, Uther greatly desires to be with her. Through some trickery of Merlin, Uther enters the castle Tintagel and satiates his desire for Igraine, magically conceiving Arthur.

However ... this is only the current modern variation. And the one which, for some reason, Hollywood always seems to prefer. Personally? I have never particular cared for that version; I like the earlier versions better.

In truth, depictions of Uther Pendragon have varied throughout the centuries. The chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth, for example, is one of the earlier accounts of King Arthur and his father Uther Pendragon. Uther is described as a great warrior. He fights valiantly and even when poisoned and near death he marches into battle against the Saxons. He is, however, characterized as having a short temper. Depictions of Uther usually make him a strong warrior with a tendency towards anger and an impatient nature.

Uther's childhood and training are presented in Jack Whyte's version of Uther. In this account, Uther is determined and very intelligent. But again, his one downfall is his quick temper and his tendency towards savageness.

Warwick Deeping differs from this characterization in the early Celtic novel "Uther and Igraine". Disguised as Pelleas, a wandering knight, Uther shows his compassion for others when he saves Igraine. He is also depicted as warm natured and pious. Even when he knows that Igraine loves him, he will not let her make the decision to leave the convent he believes she entered. Gentle and kind, Uther's longing for Igraine drives him into being a great leader in battle.

Other accounts mention how Uther and his older brother were forced into exile when they were young while an evil man named Vortigern usurped the throne; until they eventually managed to reclaim it back from Vortigern.

In my account, I have drawn a little from each of these variations. But I lean somewhat towards Warwick Deeping's version of Uther and Igraine; for I think it makes for a more richer and compelling tale. Pelleas the disguised wandering knight and Igraine who had also disguised herself for her own reasons. My own version, of course; but this foundation sure makes for one heck of a story! As you will soon see.

Well, enough from me. Let's get to it, shall we? We shall begin our tale of House Pendragon, at the very beginning...

# Map of Pretania

# ~ History of Kings ~

# Chapter 1

_A brief introduction by Adrien, Camelot Royal Historian, 505 AD_

According to the writings of Berossus, a Hellenistic-era (3rd century BC) Babylonian writer, a priest of Bel Marduk and Greek astronomer, the earliest settlement of "Celtica" was founded after the Great Flood by Samothes, a son of Japheth, son of Noah. As the first king of Celtica, Samothes' realm was described as the part of Europe between the Pyrrenees and the Rhine.

The first seven kings of Celtica were also named as the first kings of Britain by Raphael Holinshed in his Holinshed's Chronicles (1577):

1) Samothes, son of Japheth, son of Noah.

2) Magus, son of Samothes.

3) Saron, son of Magus.

4) Druis, son of Saron (founder of the Druids).

5) Bardus, son of Druis (founder of the bards).

6) Albion, who overthrows Bardus. Writer/historian John Bale dated Albion's overthrow of Bardus to 1736 BC.

7) Brutus of Troy arrives in Britain.

Brutus of Troy (1112-1081 BC) was said to be descended from the Trojan hero Aeneas, and is known in medieval British legend as the eponymous founder and first actual king of Britain. This legend first appears in the Historia Britonum, a 9th century historical compilation attributed to Nennius, but is best known from the account given by the 12th century chronicler Geoffrey of Monmouth in his Historia Regum Britanniae ("The History of the Kings of Britain"). The Historia Britonum states that "The island of Britain derives its name from Brutus, a Roman consul who conquered Spain."

Following the reign of Brutus in Britain were a thousand years of kings; too numerous to mention. Some of the more notable kings were Ebraucus (who ruled at the time of King David from 1010-970 BC), Bladud (who ruled at the time of the prophet Elijah during the 9th century BC), Brennius during the time of the 'Sack of Rome' in 387 BC, Cassibelanus during Julius Caesar's invasions of Britain (55-54 BC) and Kimbelinus during the time of Jesus (3 BC - 33 AD).

At the beginning of the 5th century, Constantine III was a Roman general who declared himself the Western Roman Emperor in Britannia in 407, and established himself in Gaul. Though he was officially recognized by Roman Emperor Honorius in 409, Constantine III fell victim to treachery from within his own ranks and found his support collapsing. Further military setbacks caused him to abdicate in 411, and he was captured and executed shortly afterwards. However, just before Constantine III died, he appointed his eldest son Constans as co-emperor.

Constans was the father of two sons by the names of Ambrosius Aurelianus and Uther Pendragon.

But Constans himself was killed during the revolts and the fighting that ended the reign of his father, Constantine III. For the revolts were designed as a military coup, led by an evil usurper named Vortigern. Indeed, it was by Vortigern's own hand that King Constans was murdered. And as a result of Vortigern's violent takeover, young Uther and his older brother Ambrosius were forced to flee for their lives and disappear into exile.

Now, Vortigern was a weak man of little character and possessed few redeeming personal qualities. And it was only by treachery and deceit and murder that Vortigern managed to gain ascendancy to the throne of Britain.

He had climbed his way high to the top by securing an inspired marriage to Severa, the daughter of Constantine III's predecessor and national hero, Magnus Maximus. As Constans was still quite young, Vortigern was able to have himself installed as the king's advisor, and before long, he conspired to have the young king killed. With the king out of the way, Vortigern seized the crown for himself, realizing that Ambrosius Aurelianus and Uther Pendragon were too young and in no position to interfere with his designs.

And so it was that two boys, ages 15 and 13, and the true heirs to the throne, went into hiding. But Ambrosius and his younger brother Uther had no intention of permanently giving up their rightful place upon the throne. They would wait until they were older, and they would formulate a plan to retake the throne from Vortigern. And they vowed to enact full vengeance and retribution upon the man who had taken the lives of their father and grandfather and had stolen the kingdom out from under them.

In order to increase their chances, Ambrosius and Uther thought it best to split up, rather than run the risk of being caught together. They agreed to meet again in five years; during which time their only communication would be through written messages.

Ambrosius chose to go to the distant Royal Court of his cousin, King Budic I of Brittany and hide there as one of Budic's sons.

Uther chose to take on a new identity by changing his name to Pelleas, and disguising himself as a wandering knight.

# Chapter 2

_Four years later_

_455 A.D._

At 17 years of age, Uther Pendragon had been traveling the region extensively for four years as both a vagabond and a sword for hire. Having grown up the royal son of High King Constans, Uther had spent the better part of his childhood being trained in the art of war. By the age of 13, Uther had already become quite skilled as a swordsman, and by the age of 15, he had no problem passing himself off as a mercenary knight, operating under the assumed name of Pelleas.

Uther was determined, very intelligent and for the most part had a good heart; though he sometimes had a tendency towards savageness when a wrong had been committed. Uther knew little of such things as grace or forgiveness, for such things had never been shown to him as a child.

He was very fond of his older brother Ambrosius and had always looked up to him. And Uther was content to remain in his elder brother's shadow, who was heir to the throne.

Ambrosius was far more aggressive and had a quick temper. And like his younger brother Uther, he also had a tendency towards savageness; for it was a common trait shared by their father, Constans and their grandfather, Constantine III.

Uther, however, had internalized battles with his civilized and barbaric upbringings. He was driven to impress his father and his grandfather. And his mother, who sometimes feared the savage and violent temper of her husband.

Uther knew of his mother's fear, and wasn't particularly keen that his mother should have to live in fear; for she was the Queen, after all. He especially didn't like it when his father would sometimes hit his mother. He couldn't understand why the Queen Mother, of all people, should have to live in fear and sometimes even bear bruises upon her face. And thus, Uther determined, even as a child, to control the savage instincts which seemed to be inherent among the men in the royal family tree.

Of course, his mother was not the only wife of King Constans; for the king had taken 11 wives. And a harem of 27 Concubines and 12 Companions; who also served as Concubines, more often than not.

Such was the world Uther had grown up in; where women were nothing more than objects of possession and used by men however men saw fit to use them.

Upon Uther's 13th birthday, his father had sent his young son into his Concubines, where Uther had been ordered to spend a night and a day; learning what it was to be a man. The experience had certainly been ... educational; and sometimes pleasurable; and enlightening, to be sure. But for Uther, it had not been an entirely enjoyable experience. Rather it had been a somewhat awkward and uncomfortable experience; even ... disturbing. To Uther, it had somehow seemed ... wrong. And unnatural. Especially as many of the Concubines seemed to enjoy being with each other as much as with Uther.

It was only to be a one-time experience, as the king's Concubines were generally considered to be off-limits to anyone but the High King himself; upon penalty of death. Which was fine with Uther, for he had no desire to ever again repeat that experience. Although his brother Ambrosius would sometimes sneak into his father's harem without his father's knowledge or permission. But as for Uther himself, it didn't seem right or desirable and he was never tempted to visit that part of the castle, again.

Uther loved his mother and his mother loved him. And to Uther's way of thinking, women ought to be more than just objects of lust or possession. He had experienced that side of the coin and found he didn't particularly care for it. Rather, to Uther's mind, like his beloved mother, women were real people with real thoughts and real feelings and real value. And they did not deserve to be treated as anything less; they certainly didn't deserve to be treated as animals.

In a way, it had been a good thing that Uther had found himself exiled and cast away from his royal home and away from all of those things. For during his four maturing years in exile, from age 13 to 17, Uther experienced a very different perspective and a very different reality.

He spent most of his time in hiding and in seclusion, primarily among small peasant villages and farming communities. And it was in those small villages where Uther saw and experienced men and women, working together in shops and in fields, raising their families and developing friendships with neighbors and growing in their relationships with one another. It was among those peasant villages where Uther experienced for the first time, men and women loving one another and caring for each other. And Uther knew in his heart of hearts, that this was how it was meant to be.

And it was in one of those peasant villages, where Uther first met Igraine.

# Chapter 3

Situated on the most southwestern tip of Britain, bordered to the north and west by the Celtic Sea and to the south by the English Channel, was the region known as Cornwall.

The castle fortress at Cornwall sat overlooking the River Tamar, where Gorlois, the Duke of Cornwall, loved to walk upon the castle ramparts and look out over the river and the countryside beyond, marveling at his own greatness.

A proud man and an evil man, Gorlois had first become the Master of the House by murdering his own father and assuming his 'rightful' place as Duke. Upon the very day Gorlois rose to power, his first act was to go in to his father's Concubines - while the rest of the castle staff and his family and even his own mother were forced to look on and watch - while Gorlois demonstrated his manly prowess and to prove to all that he was indeed the Master of the House.

Then, he ordered for all of his father's wives to be killed - including his mother - and all of his brothers and sisters, as well. Leaving no one alive who might dare try to supplant him.

That was his first day.

On the second day, Duke Gorlois took his first wife. It was a pretty but very young 12-year-old girl in a nearby village in Cornwall, who had spurned his advances the previous week. He took her by force and married her by decree and then killed all of her family. Leaving the young girl all alone in the world and married to a monster.

That young girl's name was Igraine.

Yet in spite of the terrible and tragic events, the young girl's spirit was not broken by her cruel husband. She had a gentle spirit, and at the same time was very self-reliant and was more than a little independent. She had long brown hair which she more often than not preferred to wear in a ponytail; though she was always forced to let it down whenever in the presence of her husband. But after he would brutally have his way with her - which was commonplace and everyplace and sometimes even in public places - she would always pull her hair back in a ponytail immediately after Gorlois would leave; as a small act of token defiance.

The following year Igraine gave birth to her first child - a daughter. Gorlois was furious with Igraine for having borne him a daughter instead of a son. And only moments after giving birth, Gorlois beat her severely and threw her body out beyond the castle walls, leaving her bleeding and unconscious, out in the rain.

A few days later, Gorlois finally calmed down enough to bring her back into the castle, where he once more began his repeated assaults on her, in the hopes of producing a son.

As for her baby daughter, Gorlois had been told by Igraine's nursemaiden that the child had not survived. Unbeknownst to Gorlois however, the child had indeed survived and had been secreted away to another family in a nearby village, where Igraine could sometimes visit the child while Gorlois was away. Igraine named her first daughter, Elaine.

While Gorlois doubled his efforts in producing a son from his wife Igraine, he also took in a Mistress Companion named Gytha; a woman who was equally as cruel as Gorlois in every way. She would regularly taunt Igraine and forced her to serve her in every way imaginable; both menial and degrading. Gytha would report to Gorlois every time she would discover Igraine wearing her ponytail, which would always result in another beating.

It was a status symbol of the day, for a noble ruler to produce a son. It wasn't so much that the ruler need an heir, as much as it was merely a status symbol and evidence of the ruler's virility. Thus, the second round of Gorlois' efforts to produce a son were done more often than not in public; in order to publicly prove his manhood and to demonstrate that the fault didn't lie with him.

After several months of public and degrading humiliation, Igraine did finally manage to conceive. And the following year, she gave birth to another child.

Unfortunately, her second child was also ... a girl.

Once more, Gorlois became livid with rage, and once again, moments after delivery, he beat his wife severely and left her for dead upon the birthing room floor. After he stormed away, his Mistress Gytha told the nursemaiden that if Igraine was still alive, she was to be cast away and thrown into the refuse, and forever banished from Cornwall.

As Igraine's body was being dragged away to the refuse heap, Gytha saw that the baby in the nursemaiden's hands was still alive. And for some reason ... no one knows exactly why ... Gytha permitted the baby to live. She went on to instruct the nursemaiden that the baby would be named Morgause, and now belonged to Gytha as her personal property. It would be up to the nursemaiden to keep the child alive and healthy until her 12th birth year, after which Morgause would then be handed over to Gytha for her own uses and intents and purposes.

*** *** ***

Igraine was not dead; though she was near to death. Nearly two days had passed with her lying unconscious in the refuse pile, when her body was discovered by a stranger.

The stranger was a tall man with long white hair, wearing a brown cloak and carrying a staff.

# Chapter 4

_Two days later_

"Hello, my dear. Would you like something to eat?"

Igraine's eyes opened in surprise. She looked at the strange man who was sitting upon the bed next to her. He had long white hair and penetrating gray eyes that seemed to stare right through her. Yet for some reason, Igraine was not afraid.

"Where ... am I? Am I ... dead?"

Elias smiled at her tenderly. "You are quite alive, my dear. Though you were near to death when I first found you, two days ago. You are in the home of some friends of mine and your injuries have been attended to. You have nothing to fear in this house or from anyone in this village."

"I ... I was..."

"I found you in Cornwall, my dear. We are now beyond its borders. I was sent by another to bring you aid. I brought you here so that you might recover and be well."

Igraine sat up in bed and began inspecting herself. "I ... I was..."

"As I said, my dear, your injuries have been attended to."

But Igraine shook her head, disbelieving. "The injuries I had ... were great! They could not be attended to in such fashion! There is not so much as a mark upon me! How is this possible!?"

"I would stay and offer you answer, but I am afraid I must beg your leave. There are other matters which greatly require my attention and others who also greatly require my aid. I only wished to see you wake before my departure, and to give you assurance you are safe."

"I do not understand. Why would you do this thing for me? Who ... are you?"

"I am called Elias. You might say I am a distant relative. You are of the line of Kemuel; who is now in Greece. That is also where I am now bound. But be at peace, my dear, you are in the house of a kind man and his wife, and they are both friends of mine. They have been watching over you these past two days and you shall be safe among them and among their village. Others ... need not know you are here."

"I ... I was..."

"I am aware of what has befallen you. The Duke of Cornwall has indeed banished you. You need not feel compelled to return. You are, in effect, free."

"I ... I do not have to go back?"

"I would advise against returning."

"I have only just born a daughter! I had previously born another daughter. Her name is Elaine. I cannot ...abandon her! And what is to become of my newly born daughter!?"

"Your daughter Elaine still lives in secret safety with those whom you have entrusted. As for your newly born daughter, she is alive and remains ... with your nursemaiden. Your new daughter shall be placed ... in due time. But again I would advise against returning, even for a visit."

Igraine sighed. "I suppose ... it would be in their best interest if I was not around. If my presence were to be discovered, it could put their lives at risk. Though it pains me, perhaps it is indeed better this way."

Elias nodded. "Indeed, I would strongly advise against setting foot anywhere in the region of Cornwall. Your tears have been heard and you have been freed of your burden. Now it is time for you to begin anew. Farewell, my dear. We shall not be seeing each other, again."

Tears came to Igraine's eyes as she looked at Elias with gratitude. "Thank you, kind sir. I can never repay for what you have done for me. I ... did not know I still had ... family. My family was all killed. I thought I was alone."

"You are never alone, my dear." Elias winked. "If perchance you happen to see a raven, tell him I said 'Hello'."

"Huh? What!?"

"Goodbye, my dear. Have a good life. But remember to heed my warning."

"I understand. I shall not return to Cornwall. I need no further convincing."

Elias nodded and then rose to his feet. "As I have spoken, you have First Meal awaiting you upon the table. Goodbye, Igraine. Be warm and be filled."

And then ... to Igraine's amazement ... Elias began to disappear into a fine white mist. And then he was gone.

*** *** ***

A short time later, while Igraine was still upon her bed in stunned disbelief, an elderly man and woman returned to the house.

"Well, well, well!" The old man smiled as he held the door open for his wife. "Behold, our guest has finally awoken!"

"Hello, dear." the old woman smiled as she approached. "Do not be afraid; we are friends. I am named Ceola and my husband is named Alger. You have met Elias, I take it?"

Igraine nodded. "I ... that is ... we have ... met. And he is now ... uh ... gone."

Ceola chuckled but didn't comment.

"Forgive me." Igraine said, shaking her head. "Where are my manners? My name is..."

"UH!!!" exclaimed Alger, holding up his hand to stop her. "Do not speak your name. We do not know who you are or where you are from. Elias has told us it is not for us to know."

Ceola nodded in agreement. "You should choose a new name for yourself, child. To go with your new life."

Igraine smiled and nodded. "Please forgive me, again. I am still ... somewhat ... overcome ... with all of this."

"It is understandable, dear." said Ceola. "For we at least know you have been through much. Nevertheless, what name would you choose for yourself? For it would make conversation easier and introductions to those in our village more..."

"Regan." Igraine quickly said, interrupting Ceola. With confidence, she declared "The name I would choose for myself would be ... Regan."

For it had been the name Igraine would have chosen for her second daughter; a daughter she knew she would never see again.

"A very nice name, dear." replied Ceola. "I can see this name is of importance to you. Thus you shall be named. From this day forward, you shall be known as ... Regan."

# Chapter 5

_Six months later_

Just as Elias had spoken, Alger and Ceola were indeed kind and gentle souls; and all those in the village were also of the same manner. Igraine had learned over time that at some point in the past, Elias had been of some great help to Alger and Ceola, and to those in the village, and thus they all felt grateful and somewhat indebted to him.

What had happened, Igraine never did learn. For she was no more keen on digging up their past than she was in them discovering hers. In turn, all those in the village respected her privacy as well, and never sought to dig any deeper.

And so it was that Igraine - or rather, Regan - started her new life; free from the terrible life she had once known. The village was not all that different from the village she had once grown up in; before the direful day that Duke Gorlois had first laid his evil eyes upon her.

That was one reason, why Regan went out of her way to not appear 'pretty' or even the least bit attractive. Instead, she chose clothing and apparel that made her appear 'dumpy' and unkempt, in the same manner as she kept her hair; unruly and uncombed. For Regan never wanted to tempt fate again and have some other 'monster' take an ill-fated interest in her.

The other reason, of course, why she chose to remain somewhat disheveled, was to help hide her identity; just in case by some unfortunate chance someone from Cornwall happened to pass through and recognize her.

Ceola had only suggested once and on only one occasion, that perhaps Regan might want to make herself more 'presentable' - for the available men in their village. But Regan's look of horror mixed with loathing made it abundantly clear that the last thing in the world that Regan wanted to do, was to attract a man. Or to have anything to do with men. For Regan's concept of ever being with a man was, in her mind, a fate worse than death.

And so, Ceola quickly backed off the subject and never brought it up again. She also spoke to her husband Alger in private to make sure he would likewise never press the issue.

And thus, Regan lived in peaceful seclusion, with peaceful people in a peaceful village and in a peaceful setting. And she would have been content to remain in the tranquil place for the rest of her life. Had it not been for another strange and unexpected twist of fate.

For it just so happened, that another visitor came to their village. It was a man. A wandering knight who went by the name of Pelleas.

# ~ Fate ~

# Chapter 6

Fate. Or Destiny. A predetermined course of events, which may be perceived as a predetermined future. Whether in general or that of an individual, it is a concept based upon the belief that there is a fixed natural order to the cosmos.

The ironic thing about fate, however, is that man always has a choice. It is true that a man or a woman can choose their own destiny, as it were. But it is also true that destiny chooses them.

It is as if you were to stand before a door. Above the door would be written the words: "Whosoever will may enter." You stand there for a moment, and consider your options; for truly you do have an option and truly it is your choice. Then ... you make your decision to pass through the door. When you cross the threshold to the other side, you turn back around and once again see words written above the door: "Chosen before the foundation of the world".

You had a choice. You made your choice. Then you find out you were already chosen. It makes little sense, as both sides seem to be in direct contradiction with one another; and yet both sides are, in fact, true. That is fate. That is destiny.

And such was the fated destiny of Uther and Igraine; for it had befallen them to bring forth a son; a man who would one day change the world.

Another curious thing about fate however, is that what is fated to happen, can come about in any number of different ways; as long as the end result is the same. The means of arriving at that point is always left to us and is always of our own doing and choosing.

Sometimes things go smoothly. Other times, not so smoothly. Sometimes the road to get there can be rocky and painful; such as had once been the case with both Uther and Igraine. Or ... Pelleas and Regan.

The day that 'Pelleas' arrived in the village began as a day like any other. Weary from a long three day walk from the last village he had passed through, Pelleas first began to look for the village well; for his waterskin was empty.

Some villages were friendly and would freely allow a stranger to draw from their well. Other villages would kill you if you came anywhere near their precious well. Others would charge you coin for using their well. This particular village was of the first type, and their well was open to all who were in need; for such were the ways and the beliefs of this particular village.

And so it was, that on that fateful day, Pelleas approached the village well, cautiously and warily looking over his shoulder for any signs of trouble from the villagers. A short distance away he saw people passing by who simply nodded politely at him in welcoming greeting. Relieved that this seemed to be the type of village that offered their water freely, Pelleas began to relax somewhat, though he still kept cautious watch for trouble; for such was the life that one leads when one is on the run and in exile.

And as fate would have it, there was only one other person at the village well. A dumpy, unkempt and disheveled girl who was struggling with the crank which lowered the wellbucket into the well's depths. Although it hadn't gone unnoticed that the girl was also keeping a nervous watchful and wary eye upon the stranger, as well.

Pelleas observed she wasn't particularly comfortable with a strange man visiting their village, as the girl's eyes continued darting back and forth between him and other nearby villagers in case she needed them.

Pelleas nodded at the girl in greeting and watched patiently as she continued working at unjamming the wooden crank system.

Finally, seeing that she was equally frustrated with the well and also fearful about having a stranger nearby, Pelleas offered his help. "Please, woman." Pelleas said. "May I be of assistance?"

Not wanting to engage in conversation, Regan shook her head 'no' and continued her relentless fight with the crank.

Pelleas shrugged and waited patiently for a time while Regan continued struggling.

Once again Pelleas offered his help. "I believe I may know where the problem lies, woman. If you would allow me to offer you assistance..."

After ignoring his second attempt at civility, Regan finally gave up, picked up her empty jar, and began walking away.

Pelleas shrugged once more and gave it little thought, as he walked over and worked to re-align the crank back into its proper seating. "Friendly village you have here." Pelleas muttered to himself, sarcastically.

He hadn't meant for the girl to hear it, as it was more or less a sarcastic observation he was only making to himself. But Regan's hearing was sharp and she caught his words. And immediately ... Regan found herself to be ashamed.

She stopped in place and turned around to face the visitor. "Forgive me, stranger; such was not my intent to bring doubt upon the good people of this village. I alone am to blame for my ... unfriendliness. Please do not think of me as fair representation of the rest."

Pelleas looked at the girl in surprise; for a great many reasons. For her response instantly told him a great many things about the girl. Pelleas happened to be a quick study of people and a reasonably good judge of character. The girl was obviously more intelligent than she looked. Or ... 'intended' to look, actually; for Pelleas noted she seemed to have gone out of her way to look ... the way that she looked. Therefore he deduced she was ... 'hiding'. Something which he himself had more than a little experience at. Pelleas determined she must be hiding from some unwanted suitor.

But her response also told Pelleas that she had a good and noble heart; due to her willingness to take responsibility in order to protect the village's character and reputation. It was a trait he rarely found among people during his travels and it spoke to him volumes about the young girl's true nature.

He could also tell by her determination to un-jam the crank, that she was self-reliant and independent. The only reason she had given up was because his presence made her nervous, not because she had given up.

Which made him wonder ... why would a strong and self-reliant and independent and determined person give up, simply because a man was watching her? Obviously, because she was 'hiding' from a man. Or ... perhaps ... from men, in general.

It was no secret in the realm that women generally outnumbered men, due to invasions and the loss of many men's lives in battle. Thus, it was common for women in villages to sometimes approach Pelleas; seeking a husband. Sometimes they would practically throw themselves at him.

But what was uncommon, was for an obviously unattached woman to back off from an obviously unattached man; that was rare in those times. Pelleas then deduced that the girl must be afraid of men in general; likely because she had been hurt by men. Or a specific man.

Which then led to Pelleas' curiosity about what the girl might really look like if she wasn't so overtly and intentionally grubby and bedraggled in her appearance in her attempt to hide from men.

And Pelleas ... surprisingly and unexplainably ... found himself intrigued by the whole situation.

Now, if the uninterested girl had simply allowed him to help her, and then leave ... or the girl had simply walked away and not turned back ... things might have turned out very differently. But such is the nature of fate and such is the mighty flow of the river of destiny; for no man can turn it aside and it can only go one way.

"Pelleas."

"Excuse me?"

"My name ... is Pelleas. You named me as a stranger. Now you know my name and I am a stranger, no more."

"That is very nice. I shall be on my way."

"Please, woman; at least give me your name."

She sighed, knowing she had little choice. To refuse an offer of greeting would be a black mark against the village, and she couldn't bear to bring a shameful mark against those who had been a refuge of kindness and acceptance the past six months.

"Regan." She finally replied. "My name ... is Regan. Now if you will excuse me, sir, I must return to my duties."

"At least allow me to draw water for you, Regan. Surely you do not wish to return empty? That is, if ... you would allow kindness from a stranger?"

Regan wasn't quite sure how to take that. But she quickly decided that the best way to get rid of him was to get her pitcher filled and thereby negating the only reason they were even having their conversation.

"Very well." she replied, walking back towards the well. But she approached the well on the opposite side, all the while maintaining a safe distance. She then set the pitcher atop the low stone wall surrounding the well, and then stepped backwards; preparing to run, if need be.

Pelleas smiled at her as if her actions had just confirmed everything he had surmised about her. Which, of course, they did. So as not to cause her any more fear or alarm than necessary, without saying another word, Pelleas then lowered the wellbucket into the deep well, and then brought it up again. Then, without a word, he filled her clay pitcher with water. Then, without a word, he filled his own wineskin. Then, without a word, Pelleas stepped back away from the well, far enough away where Regan would feel comfortable with coming forward to retrieve her newly filled pitcher of water.

After she did so, she rewarded Pelleas with a brief nod and a brief word of thanks. "Thank you, kind stranger." Then she quickly turned and began briskly walking away towards her home with Alger and Ceola.

There was no reason why Pelleas should have given the matter any more thought. There was nothing physically appealing or attractive about the girl; at least that was seemingly apparent. Nor was there was anything socially attractive about the girl. In truth, there was absolutely no reason at all why Pelleas should have given the matter any further thought.

But there was a reason. And it was due to a character trait that had been instilled by fate into his unique personage.

Curiosity.

And so it was that Pelleas asked a parting question, even as Regan was attempting to make good her quick escape. It was a deep and profound question, one which had been pre-destined by fate since before the foundation of the world.

"So ... do you come here often?"

Regan's eyes widened in surprise and she nearly stumbled at the profound question. But ... she managed to continue on her way without answer, quickly, and without ever looking back.

Now, Pelleas had no idea why he had just asked that question. He hadn't planned on it, he hadn't thought about it, he didn't even know the purpose of his question. It was just something that seemed to pop right out of his mouth without any forethought.

But such is the way of men, sometimes. And such is the way of fate.

The question was indeed profound. And the question was indeed deep. And the question would find its answer ... on the very next day.

# Chapter 7

"So ... do you come here often?"

"EEEEK! What are YOU doing here!?"

It was the following day and Regan was caught by surprise when Pelleas had come up behind her.

"Forgive me, fair Regan; I had not meant to startle you."

"I am NOT fair! And WHAT are you doing here!?"

"I was thirsty. Is this a crime in your village? Am I to be stoned?"

Once again, Regan's eyes widened in surprise. "What!? No, sir! Surely, do not think such a thing of these people! This water is for any who thirst! I had not meant..."

Pelleas chuckled and stopped her with his hand. "Pay no heed to my folly, fair Regan; I only jest. I think it a good and noble thing for you to desire to protect the name of your people. This speaks to me you are indeed a fair representation of this village, and I applaud the people who have raised up someone with such a good heart and character.

"Oh."

Pelleas smiled at her and then reached out his hand. "Please, Regan. May I fill your pitcher with water?"

"Thank you, kind sir, but it is not needful."

"I only wish to demonstrate my sincerity that I do not think ill of your people. Will you allow me to do this service? It would my way of showing honor to your village."

"Oh. Uh ... well ... uh ...".

"Please?" Pelleas said again, maintaining his smile and outstretched hand.

Regan finally relented. But she didn't hand the pitcher to Pelleas. Instead, she once more set it upon the low stone wall of the well and began backing away, slowly.

Pelleas understood she was still fearful and didn't push the issue. Instead, he lowered the wellbucket into the well and drew water, with which he then filled her pitcher and again his own waterskin.

Then ... he began backing away himself, while gesturing towards her pitcher. Once he was a good and safe distance away, Regan quickly rushed and snatched up her pitcher. "Thank you, kind sir." Then she briskly began walking away.

Pelleas smiled as he called out after her. "So ... do you come here every day?"

She didn't answer, of course, and within moments she had disappeared around a thatch of trees, heading for home.

Pelleas chuckled to himself as he turned to leave for his campsite by the river a few miles away. He smiled, for the girl who had thought to deter him had only succeeded in making him all the more curious.

*** *** ***

The following morning, Pelleas returned and sat beside the well. And waited. And waited. And waited. But Regan never showed up.

By evening time, Pelleas gave up and returned to his campsite.

*** *** ***

The next morning, Pelleas returned again, and once more sat beside the well. And waited. And waited. And waited.

After two days of sitting beside the well, he had met several friendly people of the village; including several VERY friendly young girls. But none of them were named Regan.

By evening time, Pelleas gave up and returned to his campsite.

*** *** ***

The following morning, Pelleas returned, and once more sat beside the well. And waited. And waited. And waited.

And again, he met many people of the friendly village, including many friendly girls who seemed to think he was waiting for them. But none of them were named Regan.

By evening time, Pelleas gave up and returned to his campsite.

*** *** ***

On the morning of the fourth day Pelleas returned, and once more sat beside the well. And waited. And waited. And waited.

It had now been four days since he had last seen Regan. This time, it was Regan who surprised Pelleas, as she came up behind him.

"WHAT are you DOING HERE!?" she exclaimed, angrily.

"WHAT!?"

"WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE!?"

"I ... I only wished to draw you water, again!"

"WHY!!? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?"

"I ... I ... I ..."

"For THREE DAYS I have been avoiding coming here!"

"You knew I was here!?" Pelleas asked with a teasing smile.

"EVERYONE in the village knows you are here! It is all everyone can speak of! They all speak of the strange man who sits by the well!"

"I ... I only wish to draw you water."

"I need water! But I have not been able to come to get water! Because you are here! Why will you not leave!? What do you want from me!?"

"I ... I only wish to draw you water."

"I do not WISH for you to draw me water! I am quite capable of drawing my own water!"

Pelleas grinned. "I shall not leave until you allow me to draw you water."

"WHAT!?"

"Please, do not be angry with me. I only wish to do you a kind service. Is this a crime in your village?"

"WHAT!?"

Pelleas chuckled. "I see it did not work with you this time." So, he tried another tactic. Pelleas then stood in front of the well and crossed his arms. "If you want water, then you must allow me to draw it for you."

"WHAT!?"

Pelleas shrugged. "If you do not require water, then leave. If you require water, allow me to draw it for you."

Regan shook her head and sighed. "Why ... are you doing this to me!?"

"I am not doing anything to you. I would never do anything to harm you. I only wish to draw you water."

"Why!?"

Pelleas shrugged. "Because it pleases me."

Reagan sighed, again. "You would truly prevent me from drawing water from our own well?"

"Because I wish to draw it for you. I ask for nothing in return; only that I may do this for you."

Reagan was extremely confused and couldn't understand what was going on. Although, she was beginning to suspect the strange man was not right in his mind.

Finally, she relented. But this time, she dared to actually hand the pitcher directly to the very strange stranger.

Pelleas accept the pitcher gratefully and then immediately turned around and proceeded to draw water from the well, and then filled her pitcher. He then handed the pitcher back to Regan, gave her a brief nod and said "Thank you." Then, Pelleas turned on his heels ... and walked away.

Leaving behind a very stunned girl, who was now quite certain the strange man was not playing with a full deck.

*** *** ***

It was another three days before Regan finally gave in and made another attempt to visit the well to retrieve water. But she had little choice as their water had run out the night before. She even once considered going during the night, but Alger and Ceola both warned her about wild animals that came out after dark, and that it was much safer to go in broad daylight. Besides, what if the 'strange man' happened to be waiting for her at night? That could also be a more dangerous thing, as no one else would be around.

Now, after Alger and Ceola had first heard about the mysterious stranger, and after Regan had refused to visit the well for the first three days, they had offered to follow along behind Regan on the last trip; where they had witnessed the entire exchange between Pelleas and Regan. Though they were both elderly, they had a fairly good inkling of what was actually going on, and that it likely didn't involve the strange man being daft. Thus, they encouraged Regan to visit the well each and every day, and even offered to accompany her on each and every trip.

But it was only after three days, and only after they had completely run out of water, that Regan had no choice but to once again visit the well.

She had been hoping the strange man would have left by now. But according to the other villagers, Pelleas was still there, just as he always was, sitting by the well, each and every day. His only answer when asked why he was there was always the same. "I am waiting for someone."

And sure enough, when Regan arrived midday at the well with Alger and Ceola, Pelleas was sitting in his usual spot just a short distance away from the well. Not too close to interfere with other people drawing water from the well, but close enough to keep watch for Regan.

Regan cautiously approached the well, trying hard to not draw his attention. But, of course, it didn't work as Pelleas instantly leaped to his feet as she came near. Regan was actually a little surprised to see his quick agility, and she began to suspect that the light-armored chest plate he wore and the sword at his side was for more than just show. That suspicion actually caused her to be more nervous around Pelleas. For if by any chance he was not mentally unbalanced, then what other reason would he have for being there?

"Hello, fair Regan." Pelleas smiled in greeting. Once more he stood by the well with his hand outstretched.

Sighing reluctantly, Regan looked at Pelleas for a time. Finally she stepped forward and handed him her pitcher.

Pelleas maintained his warm smile as he accepted the pitcher and turned to begin lowering the wellbucket into the well.

"Why?" Regan finally asked.

"I only wish to draw you water." Pelleas replied, simply.

"But why?"

Pelleas shrugged. "Because it pleases me."

"I ... I do not understand."

After Pelleas finished filling her pitcher with water, he handed it back to Regan with the same warm smile. "Because I wish to draw it for you. I ask for nothing in return; only that I may do this for you."

"Please tell me why you are doing this." Regan pleaded. "What is your purpose, here?"

"I have no purpose here, except to draw you water. Of this I speak the truth."

"I cannot understand why you would do this thing."

Pelleas shrugged. "Will you be here, tomorrow?"

Regan sighed and then looked over at Alger and Ceola, who were both smiling and nodding their heads. Then she turned back and looked at Pelleas. "Yes. I ... I shall be here ... tomorrow."

"Over there, is that your mother and father?"

"No." Regan replied. "My parents are dead. They are only friends."

"Forgive me for assuming wrongly, fair Regan; I did not mean to pry. I shall pursue no further questioning of you, for such was not my intent. I only wish to draw you water."

Regan continued looking at Pelleas for a time. This time she was paying closer attention to his eyes; which were brown like his hair; the same as hers. But she was unable to read what was in his eyes, as Pelleas was an extremely difficult person to read.

She then turned her head and began looking around at the village and at some of the villagers who were standing not too far away, watching the exchange with great interest. It was now common knowledge in the small village that Regan - was the only person Pelleas ever offered to draw water for.

Then she turned back and looked at Pelleas. "These are good people, sir. They have had hard lives and have found a place of safe haven within this village. They have no possessions and have even less to offer."

Pelleas smiled at her, knowingly. "I have no intent of bringing trouble or harm to your people. I do not seek to steal or take that which is not mine; for I have all that I require. Yes, Regan, I can see they are refugees. Many are children born of Concubines and have been cast out or left for dead. I can see they indeed have found a place of safe haven. I swear to you, fair Regan, upon my life, that I shall never reveal this location to any other nor do anything that might bring them harm."

Regan looked at Pelleas in surprise. "How did you know we ... I mean, they ... are refugees?"

"I hear their conversations as they draw water or pass by. They are careful with the details, but I hear enough. I hear it in their voices and I see it in their eyes. Just ... as I also see it in your eyes."

"Oh." And with that, Regan turned and began walking away, briskly.

"You are welcome!" Pelleas grinned.

"Thank you!" Regan called back without looking.

# Chapter 8

Regan did, in fact, show up the next day. And the day after. And the day after that. And so it went, day after day, week after week, and month after month.

Pelleas was always there, as if he had nowhere else to go. Because he really didn't. At least, not until he received word from his brother Ambrosius. Until then, Pelleas was content to bide his time camped out about two miles from the village of refugees. By night he would fish or hunt for food and sleep. By day, he would simply wait for Regan to show, just so he could draw her water from the well.

Though their conversation rarely went beyond 'hello' and 'thank you' and 'goodbye', Regan's daily appearance at the well had become very predictable, usually around mid-morning.

Even on rainy days, she would always arrive at the same time. Partly because they were heading into the fall season and rains were becoming more frequent and the weather was turning colder. And yet, Pelleas would always be there by the well, sheltered only by the leaves of nearby trees. Therefore, Regan always came at the same time - even if she didn't need to - just so that Pelleas wouldn't have to wait any longer than necessary in the rain. For Regan figured that if she always came at the same time ... well ... it would be easier on Pelleas.

And that surprised her more than anything. That she would care. About Pelleas. That she would be concerned ... on any level ... about a ... man. She didn't understand it and it didn't make any sense. They never talked about anything nor did they know anything about each other. They knew no more about each other than the day they first met. Except ... that she always desired to show up on time. Because she figured it would be easier on Pelleas. As if that made any sense.

It took four long months, but the day finally came ... when Pelleas finally received his first smile.

"Hello, Pelleas." Regan offered in greeting.

Pelleas was surprised by the greeting, and that it was even accompanied by a smile; albeit a barely discernible smile. But it was both a greeting and a smile, nonetheless.

Of course, Regan herself was surprised by her own greeting, for she hadn't planned on it. It just simply ... came out. Nor was she aware that she had even offered a smile.

But Pelleas noticed. And he noticed that he liked her smile. Enough where, he would be willing to wait another four months for another smile; if that's what it took.

From that day forward, Regan always then greeted him with a "Hello, Pelleas." Though she was still cautious and careful and didn't offer a smile after that first time. Even though sometimes she wanted to. But at least she was now offering him a greeting.

But fate had another card up its sleeve. For the weather had begun taking a turn for the worse. It was a month later and it had been raining non-stop, day and night for two weeks. Pelleas was there as usual, of course; as was Regan at her usual appointed time. But on one particular day, when Pelleas came forward to draw her water for her, Regan noticed that his skin was looking a little pale.

"Pelleas?" Regan asked with concern. "Are you ... becoming ill?"

Pelleas smiled and shook his head. "I am fine, fair Regan. I am accustomed to much worse than this."

"You do not look well, Pelleas." Regan replied, accepting her pitcher of water from him. "You should not be out in the rain. Do you have a warm place to stay?"

Pelleas nodded, but didn't answer.

"I understand." Regan replied, looking down. "Where you stay ... is your business, not mine. Forgive me for asking."

Then Pelleas grinned at her. "I shall make you a deal. I shall tell you where I stay, if you shall tell me where you stay."

He had only meant it in jest, but Pelleas was surprised to see the look of alarm on her face. Then she shook her head and turned to leave. Pelleas was about to apologize when she said, "Thank you, Pelleas, for drawing my water. Goodbye." And then she briskly walked away.

"I was only jesting!" Pelleas called out after her.

But she kept on walking and disappeared around a thatch of trees, heading for home.

Pelleas sighed and then cursed himself for saying the wrong thing. Then he took off in the opposite direction towards his campsite.

*** *** ***

It was the following day, when several remarkable things happened. The first remarkable thing that happened, was that Regan showed up, again. Even though she hadn't planned to. For the thought of Pelleas learning where she lived had indeed unnerved her and frightened her.

Even though it was a small village, and Pelleas obviously knew the direction in which she always went. And she knew that it wouldn't be a difficult thing for Pelleas to track her down, should he ever desire to pursue the matter. But she didn't want him to pursue the matter. Nor did she want to reveal to Pelleas where she lived, any more than she wanted to reveal anything else about herself.

Nevertheless, the rain still continued to pour, and the weather had turned even colder. That next day, when it was her 'appointed' time to show up at the well, the downpour had all but turned into sleet as the temperature had dropped into the 20's.

But still Regan came at the appointed time, because ... well ... because it would be easier for Pelleas; because she didn't want him to have to wait any longer than necessary. Not to mention that she had been genuinely concerned about his sickly appearance the previous day.

And so it was, that when Regan arrived at the well holding a sheet over her head, that she discovered the next remarkable thing that happened that day.

Pelleas wasn't there.

For the first time in six months, Pelleas wasn't there!

Then, something else remarkable happened.

Regan began to worry about Pelleas.

She had indeed heard him call out that he was only teasing the day before; about finding out where she lived. And even though she was still very uncomfortable with the idea of anyone knowing where she lived, she still worried that perhaps Pelleas was upset that she had just walked away from him as she did.

It was, after all, rather rude. Wasn't it?

But then she also began to worry if he was okay. After all, he really didn't look all that well. What if the reason he hadn't shown up was because he was sick?

What if he was worse than sick?

What if he was MUCH worse than sick!?

What if Pelleas was ... dying!?

Or ... what if wild animals attacked Pelleas during the night!?

And Regan began imagining all sorts of terrible things that might have happened to Pelleas, and she found herself becoming very worried and very concerned and even ... upset! About what might have happened to poor Pelleas.

Which then led to the next very remarkable thing that happened that day.

Regan ... decided to go in search of Pelleas.

It was remarkable for a variety of reasons and on many different levels; not the least of which the icy cold rain would have deterred almost anyone from going out for a search; let alone ... alone.

But Regan was not just anyone. For in spite of all she had been through in her young life, she was still strong and self-reliant and independent and determined. Determined enough, to go outside the safety of the village and go looking for Pelleas, even in the midst of terrible weather.

Of course, she had no idea where he lived or what his living arrangements were. But she suspected he lived nearby, perhaps in a tent. She also knew the general direction in which he would leave the village. So ... with a sheet over her head ... and sleet pouring down from the sky ... Regan took off in the same direction she had seen Pelleas go in the past.

*** *** ***

Fortunately, it was only two miles to Pelleas' campsite.

If you want to call it that.

For his campsite consisted of nothing more than a small fire pit, a rope attached to a nearby tree upon which hung tunics and undergarments and socks, and ... not really even a tent.

It was more like a lean-to; a single slanted tarp of heavy canvas, propped up at an angle by two tree branches. While it certainly afforded Pelleas good vision in nearly all directions, it was hardly enough to protect him from the elements. Especially when the rain and sleet was driving sideways.

And Pelleas was there, lying beneath the slanted tarp. And fully exposed to the horrendous weather. He appeared to be either asleep ... or unconscious.

Regan gasped as she ran forward and dropped to her knees beside his body. And it was just as she had feared; even more so. Pelleas was MUCH worse than sick. His body was a ghostly white and ice cold, yet at the same time his forehead felt like it was on fire. Pelleas looked to be near death.

Regan quickly debated her three choices: stay with him and try to keep him warm; run back to the village for help; or drag him back to the village and to her home.

She chose the last option. For she believed he would need a more than mere body-warmth if he was to survive, and he would need it for an extended period of time. Regan wasn't sure who she could ask for this kind of help; certainly not Alger and Ceola, for they were much too elderly and feeble to help get him home; especially in that kind of weather. Regan's only remaining choice was to wrap Pelleas up in the lean-to tarp and, quite literally, drag him back to the village.

Fortunately it was only two miles. But for a young girl to drag a body for two miles in the cold rain and sleet was yet another remarkable feat. Nevertheless, she made the trip in under an hour, and finally brought Pelleas to her home.

# Chapter 9

_Three days later_

Pelleas awoke to morning sunshine.

And ... to a beautiful and angelic face.

Regan was sitting on the bed beside him, giving him a look that was an mixture of both relief and anger. And the look in her eyes kept alternating between the two.

He tried to speak, but found that he couldn't; for his sickness had taken his voice away for a time. He also felt extremely weak and dizzy and every inch of his body was racked in painful agony. And yet ... Pelleas managed a smile.

Regan crossed her arms and scowled at him.

Pelleas thought she never looked more beautiful.

Which was partly true, because for the last three days, Regan hadn't been focused on making herself look ... 'unbeautiful'. Instead, for once, she really looked as she really looked. And Pelleas found himself greatly appreciative for how she really looked. She was even prettier than he had imagined she might be. And he had imagined her a lot.

"You are fortunate to be alive." she scolded with a hint of anger.

Pelleas pointed at his throat and shook his head, indicating that he couldn't speak.

"Good." Regan said, rising to her feet. "I am glad you cannot speak. You deserve much worse for being so foolish. I should have left you where I found you. Perhaps this shall teach you a lesson for the next time. But know this, Pelleas; if there is a next time? I shall not come looking for you, again. I shall leave your body for the scavengers."

With as much strength as he could muster, Pelleas offered her a sheepish grin and weakly motioned with his hand for her to come closer.

"What, you wish to say something to me? I do not think I care to hear anything you have to say. I am most put out with you, Pelleas."

Still managing a slight smile, Pelleas continued motioned with his hand for her to come closer.

Finally she sighed and relented, and leaned over closer to his face so he could attempt to whisper to her.

But Pelleas motioned with his hand for her to come even closer.

And she did so, tilting her ear to within inches of his mouth.

And then the most remarkable thing of all happened.

Pelleas reached up and turned her face towards him ... and kissed her.

# Chapter 10

Regan was stunned.

Instantly she leaped to her feet and began backing away with her hand pressed against her mouth as if she had just been bitten by a serpent.

She had no words. She was simply ... stunned. Regan didn't know how to react or what to say or do.

On one hand, she felt like slapping him. But ... in those days, women didn't slap men; it was the other way around.

On the other hand ... well ... she really couldn't understand the 'other hand'. It was a very strange and unexplainable feeling; one that she certainly had no understanding of.

Regan was honestly ... truly ... positively ... stunned; and at a complete loss for words.

She looked at Pelleas in shock ... who simply lay on his bed, sickly and barely able to move and completely unable to speak ... and yet, he had a ridiculous grin on his face.

And then his reaction? He simply shrugged, as if to say 'Sorry, but it's not like I could've helped myself or anything.'

And that's when the most startling revelation of all finally hit Regan. Pelleas ... liked her.

A lot.

And of course, then there was the other side of the stunning and revelatory coin. And likewise, it also fell upon Regan like a ton of bricks.

She ... liked Pelleas.

How much? Regan didn't know. Why? Regan didn't know. How it happened? Regan didn't know. When did it happen? Regan didn't know. All she knew was, for the first time in her young life, Regan liked ... a man.

And the revelation frightened her. It was something she never dreamed would ever be possible. For the only experience she had ever had with a man, was with a monster by the name of Gorlois.

It had now been one year since she had given birth to her second daughter. And one year since Gorlois had beaten her and left her for dead. And it had been one year since Regan had been cast out and banished from the region of Cornwall.

Regan had only been twelve years old when Gorlois had essentially 'abducted' her and forced her to become his wife against her will. She had borne her first daughter at age 13, and her second daughter at age 14.

Regan was now 15 years old. Though she had been a wife and had already borne two children, she was still very, very young, and had no experience or knowledge of such things, as love or affection and most certainly not romance. They were all foreign concepts to her. Of course, she had seen such things exhibited in her home and in the town in which she had grown up. Her own parents seemed to have had a great deal of affection for each other.

But as for her, personally? This ... was a first.

And since Regan had no idea how to respond, she responding in the only way she knew how.

She ignored it. As if nothing had happened.

Alger and Ceola happened to be out for one of their daily walks; actually, their first walk in over two weeks because of the rains. So Regan somehow managed to collect herself and announced to Pelleas she was going to warm up some soup.

Without waiting for a response, Regan disappeared out of the room towards the cooking area. By the time she returned, Pelleas had fallen back asleep.

*** *** ***

It was the middle of the night when Pelleas finally re-awoke. And though everyone else in the house was asleep, he was wide awake. And surprisingly, hungry. He was actually feeling much better.

Beside his bed was a small table, and upon the table was a bowl of fruit. Pelleas noticed right away that his fever was completely gone and he was feeling well enough to sit up. As he did so, he grabbed the bowl of fruit and quickly devoured two bananas and two apples and two pears.

Then ... surprisingly, Pelleas found he was still very hungry. He wasn't exactly sure where he was, but he assumed he was in Regan's home. Not wanting to wake anyone up, and feeling fairly sure and confident of himself, Pelleas decided he might attempt to get up out of bed and perhaps find some more fruit in their pantry; wherever that was.

Just as he turned and swung his legs around and over the side of the bed, he heard a voice. It came from the floor.

"What do you think you are doing?" Regan asked.

Surprised, Pelleas tried to speak, but found he still hadn't a voice. But he was able to at least manage a raspy but painful whisper.

_"Regan? Is that you?"_

"Yes, Pelleas. This is where I sleep. This is a small house and there are only two rooms. The other room belongs to Alger and Ceola."

_"You ... have been sleeping ... by my side?"_

"I believe I have already answered you. I repeat my question: where do you think you are going?"

_"I ... feel better. I ... have hunger."_

Regan sat up in surprise. "Really? That is ... that is good! I heard you eating the fruit I had left for you. Did you eat all of it?"

_"Thank you ... Regan. For ... taking care ... of me. Yes. I am still ... hungry."_

Regan quickly rose to her feet. "Stay here. You should not be walking around, yet. I shall bring you something to eat."

_"Regan?"_

"Yes, Pelleas?"

_"I am sorry."_

"Huh? What? Sorry for what?"

_"I should not ... have kissed you."_

"Uh ... oh."

_"I ... wanted to. But ... I probably should not have done that. Uh ... right?"_

"I will ... go and get you something to eat." And before Pelleas could respond, Regan quickly darted out of the room.

*** *** ***

Nearly ten minutes had passed and Pelleas was beginning to wonder where Regan was. He didn't think that assembling a bowl of fruit would take that long. Plus ... he was tired of laying in bed and really wanted to try and stand. So ... he did.

He was even able to shuffle a short distance. By the time he reached the door, however, he had to stop and take a break. Already he was starting to feel light-headed again, and a little bit woozy. He was about to turn back towards his bed when he thought he heard something outside the house.

It almost sounded like ... someone weeping!

_Regan!_

Trying his best to remain steady without falling or tripping, Pelleas made his way out of his room and through the cooking area to the front door. He quietly opened the door and looked outside in the darkness. Just a short distance away, he could see Regan in the cold moonlight, sitting on the grass beneath a tree. And she was crying.

Seeing her in distress gave Pelleas all the strength he needed, and he quickly began walking over towards the tree where she sat.

Regan never saw or heard him approach, as her face was buried in her hands.

It wasn't until Pelleas knelt beside her and placed his gentle hand upon her shoulder when she realized she was not alone.

Ordinarily, Regan would have been frightened by having someone come up on her like that. But the instant that she spun her head around towards Pelleas and saw the compassionate look in his eyes, it somehow immediately calmed her fears.

"Reagan?" Pelleas whispered. "Why do you weep? Am I the cause of your sorrow?"

Regan tried her best to hold it in. Just as she had been doing for the past year. Just as she had been doing for the past three years, since the day Duke Gorlois first 'took' her to his castle and killed her family.

And so it was, that for the first time since her nightmare had first begun three years earlier, Reagan began to pour out her heart to another soul.

And as her story spilled forth, Pelleas wrapped his arms around her.

From the first moment that the truth of Regan's past came to light, the heart of Pelleas was broken.

And he wept with her.

For a very ... long ... time.

# ~ Inception ~

# Chapter 11

"So ... your name is Igraine?"

It was two hours later and close to dawn. They had both returned to the house, where Pelleas had eaten a bowl of soup with some bread, and he was now getting back into his bed at Regan's insistence.

Regan nodded in answer, as she began tucking him in.

"I promise you, Regan. No, I swear it upon my life, that I shall never reveal your true name to anyone."

Regan sighed as she sat upon the bed next to Pelleas. "You do not ... hate me?"

"WHAT!? Regan! How could you even ask such a terrible thing! Of course, I do not hate you! Far, far from it!"

"But ... I am another man's wife. I have already born two children. How can you not despise me for..."

Pelleas immediately stopped her with his finger on her mouth. "No, Regan; do not speak such things. You are no longer another man's wife. That bond was broken the day he cast you out. You are now free. As for bearing children, I am sorry you had to bear them without knowing love. That was an evil; wrongly inflicted upon you. An evil no woman should ever have to know. And it is an evil that shall know retribution. For I swear to you this day, I shall not rest until I avenge your honor upon the Duke Gorlois of Cornwall."

Regan smiled at Pelleas while shaking her head. "I see your anger has restored your voice. Thank you, kind sir, for your most noble and valiant words; I know you mean them well. But the Duke of Cornwall is a powerful man. And you are but a ... uh ... uh ... actually, I am unsure just what you are."

Pelleas was just about to answer when she stopped him, this time with her finger upon his lips. "But what I do know, kind sir, is you are unwell and need rest. The time for talking, is over."

"I do wish to tell you about myself, Regan. There are things about me you should know."

"Sleep now, talk later." she ordered with a smile.

"But..." Pelleas objected, sitting back up in bed.

But to his surprise, Regan pushed him back down. "I said, sleep now. See? If a weak woman can force you back into your bed, you are in no position to argue."

Pelleas grinned at her. "You, Regan, are not a weak woman. Surely you are the strongest woman I have known."

"Your skin again begins to appear sallow, Pelleas. You were doing so well. You need more rest to restore your color. No more talking, do you understand me?"

"Regan, what of your two daughters? Have you ever ... considered..."

"No, Pelleas. You know I cannot return. But more importantly, they are placed ... where they are placed. It would be cruel to take them from the only homes they have known."

"Do you know where they both are?"

"I know of the home where my firstborn daughter lives. I had named her Elaine. She is in a good home with a good family. I have met them, and I have held my daughter. She is in a good place. That is her home, now."

"And your second daughter?"

"I know nothing of my second daughter. I do not know her name nor her whereabouts. I only know that she is alive."

"How do you know she is alive?"

"I ... know. I do not know how I know, but I know. I shall probably never see her or know her. But at least I know she is alive. Both of my daughters ... are alive."

"May I ask you just one question more, Regan?"

"If it is quick and brief and you promise to sleep after, then yes, you may. What is your question?"

Pelleas grinned at Regan once more. "Was it wrong for me to have kissed you?"

Regan smiled at Pelleas for a long time.

Then, she tenderly ran her finger across his lips. "Ask me again, tomorrow."

*** *** ***

That same day, Pelleas slept until noon. When he awoke, he was surprised to see Regan sitting in a chair across the room, looking at him.

_"Regan?"_ he said in a raspy but painful whisper, for he had once more lost his voice. _"Have you been there all this time?"_

"You need more rest." Regan answered. "You sound terrible. Go back to sleep."

_"I feel fine."_ he objected.

Regan gave him the look.

_"Oh, very well. I do not feel ... fine."_

"I should say not."

_"How long have I been asleep? Is it tomorrow, yet?"_

Regan raised her eyebrow.

_"You said I could ask you again, tomorrow."_

She began shaking her head at him, albeit with a slight smile. "You, Pelleas, are a most unusual man. I have been watching you for hours. There is much more to you than meets the eye."

"I need to tell you who I am, Regan. It is ... right, that you should know."

"Why is it ... right, that I should know?"

"Because I care about you, Regan. I would have you know the truth about me, just as I have also learned the truth about you."

Regan then gave Pelleas a tender smile. "I ... I must confess, Pelleas; I had not intended to tell you of those things."

"Do you regret having done so?"

Regan rose to her feet and walked over, and sat upon the bed beside him. "No, dear Pelleas; I do not regret having done so. I must also confess, that I care about you, as well."

"Are you sure?"

"That you would willingly offer to speak the truth of yourself to me, confirms for me I have not erred in telling you my secrets."

"No, I meant, are you sure that you care for me?" Pelleas grinned.

For the first time, Pelleas heard Regan laugh. And it was music to his ears. "In seriousness, Pelleas, you need not feel bound to speak of your secrets to me. I appreciate your willingness, but in this village, no one is required to..."

"I have to tell you, Regan. It is important."

"Not that I am not curious, but why is it so important?"

"For many reasons, Regan; which I shall tell you. Although one of those reasons, is because ... I think I more than care for you."

Regan's eyes widened in surprise. Then she gulped.

"I am feeling better, Regan. My voice is once again returning to me. Will you hear what I have to say?"

Regan gulped again. "Uh huh."

"Very well. You do know ... who Constans was?"

"Our High King? Of course, I do. Everyone in these lands knew of High King Constans. He has since been succeeded by High King Vortigern."

"Not succeeded, Regan. Murdered."

"WHAT!?"

"Vortigern is an evil and treacherous man, Regan. By his own hand, he murdered High King Constans in his sleep."

"WHAT!? Surely, that is not true!"

"What did you know of High King Constans?"

"Very little, actually. I was but a young girl and uninterested in such things as news and gossip of nobles and kings."

"Had you heard what had happened to his family, after Vortigern took the throne?"

"No. I knew of Prince Ambrosius and Prince Uther, of course. As did all the young girls in our village." Regan smiled, bashfully. "After all, what young girl would not desire to marry a prince?"

Pelleas sighed and shook his head. "But instead, you were forced to marry an evil Duke."

"I think I am done speaking of that, if you do not mind."

"Sorry." Pelleas apologized. "That was thoughtless of me."

Regan smiled and touched his hand. "It is okay, dear Pelleas; you have done no wrong. It is something I prefer to put behind me and not have to think of, again."

"I understand."

"So ... now that you mention it, whatever did happen to the royal family? Once Vortigern became the new High King, I do not recall hearing of what had happened to the Queen Mother or the two Princes."

Pelleas paused and looked out the window for a moment. "The Queen Mother..." he continued, sadly, "...was also killed. Vortigern had her put to death."

"WHAT!? How could you possibly know any of this!? I find that VERY hard to believe!"

"It is all true, Regan. It all really happened, just as I said it happened; four years ago. As for the two Princes, Ambrosius Aurelianus and Uther Pendragon, they barely managed to escape with their lives. They have both gone into hiding and exile, biding their time while they seek to re-establish their claim upon their throne. Even now, Prince Ambrosius has successfully gathered all of his father's entire Knighthood, who were fiercely loyal to High King Constans. He has also been successfully gathering together all of the Armed Forces that are still loyal to the true royal family. It has taken four years to determine who is loyal and who is not. Potential spies and traitors have been tested and weeded out. Someday soon, Prince Ambrosius shall seek his revenge and rally all to march against Vortigern. Mark my words Regan, Ambrosius shall be successful. And he shall ascend to the throne. And the royal line shall once again be restored. Ambrosius Aurelianus shall someday soon rightfully become our new High King."

"Pelleas!" Regan exclaimed. "How could you possibly know all of this! Are you ... are you one of those loyal Knights!?"

Pelleas turned back from the window to face her with a smile. "I am indeed one of those loyal Knights, fair Regan. I am loyal to Prince Ambrosius, more than any other man. And I receive word and updates by occasional messenger, who knows of my whereabouts. I live for the day to see Ambrosius sitting upon the throne. I would gladly give my life to ensure that day happens."

"You are loyal, indeed." Regan marveled. "That you would willingly lay down your life for Prince Ambrosius! This speaks to me you really are a Knight of the Realm!"

Once more Pelleas looked out the window. "Oh ... I am a little more than a Knight."

Regan gasped in shock. With her hand over her mouth, she slowly and fearfully began moving away from Pelleas on the bed, even as her face began to turn pale. _"No..."_ Regan finally managed to whisper. _"It cannot be."_

Pelleas continued looking out the window. "I am always watching, Regan. I await the call. It may come next week, it may come next year; I do not know. But when my brother calls for me, I shall answer."

Regan rose to her feet in stunned shock. "No! It is not possible!"

Pelleas turned his eyes away from the window and looked at Regan with a tender smile. "Did you not say, that as a young girl you desired to marry a prince? Well, you have found one. Hello, Igraine. My name is Uther Pendragon. Will you marry me?"

# Chapter 12

THUMP.

If Pelleas hadn't been sick, he might have actually caught Regan in time. But as it was, he was too slow, and Regan had collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

Just as he dropped to his knees beside her, Pelleas heard another gasp. It was Alger and Ceola.

"It is okay!" Pelleas said, quickly. "She has only fainted! I did not harm her, I swear!"

Ceola also knelt feebly to her knees to attend to Regan, while Alger looked at Pelleas, curiously.

Pelleas held up his hands in innocence. "I swear to you, sir! I did not nothing to harm her!"

Alger nodded. "I believe you, young lad; fear not. But what is it, that has caused her to faint?"

"I ... uh ... I told her who I was."

"Oh?" Alger replied.

Pelleas opened his mouth to explain further, but then thought better of it.

Alger held up his hand. "No, there is no need to speak of such things in our presence. We do not ask such questions of those in our village. There is a reason why secrets are kept, and there is a reason why secrets are respected. I am merely surprised you spoke of yours to Regan."

Pelleas looked back down at Regan, as Ceola placed Regan's head in her lap for a cushion. "I told her, because she first told me."

"What!?" Alger and Ceola both exclaimed.

"I had not expected her to speak of such things." Ceola said in surprise. "She has never spoken of these things with us."

Pelleas began looking at her with worry. "Did she hit her head? I was too slow to..."

"You should not be up either, dear." said Ceola. "Yes, she has hit her head; it is a only small bump. But for a headache when she wakes, Regan shall be fine."

Pelleas surprised himself, as well as Alger and Ceola, when he took Regan's unconscious hand in his. "She has been taking care of me."

"Yes, dear." Ceola smiled. "She has been watching over you night and day for four days. She cares for you, just as I see you care for her."

"I love her." Pelleas admitted. "I have loved her for some time."

"Yes dear, we have seen how you have looked at her when she meets you at the well. We have known of this for some time."

"I have been studying her." Pelleas said. "For six months I have been learning all I can about her. Though I never knew her true name or her background, I have learned all I have needed to know about her. I ..." Pelleas paused for a moment, and then looked at Ceola. "I have asked her to become my wife."

Both Alger and Ceola looked at him in surprise. "We heard ... some of the words you spoke." Alger said.

Pelleas looked intently at Alger. "Are you ... the guardians of Regan?"

Alger smiled at him. "No, young lad; we do not speak for her. Regan speaks for herself, as do most in this village. There are no arrangements of marriage to be considered, nor Brideprice or dowry or ceremony. Simply the decision between a man and woman; and that decision is between themselves, alone."

"Did she give you answer?" Ceola replied, as she stroked Regan's hair.

"Uh..." Pelleas shrugged. Then he nodded at Regan who was lying on the floor. "I believe ... this was her answer."

Ceola smiled and nodded. "Are you well enough to..."

"Of course." Pelleas replied. "I can lift her to her bed. I think."

Pelleas did. And after she was lying in her bed, he sat beside her, once more holding her hand.

"I shall bring a cool cloth for her head." Ceola said as Alger helped her to her feet.

"Thank you." Pelleas replied. "And ... thank you for also watching over me these past four days. I know Regan could not have done it without help."

"For the most part she did." Alger said, after Ceola left. "She has been very concerned for you."

"Yet she hardly knew me."

"Regan knew you well enough." Alger replied. "For her to bring you into our home as she did."

"Are the leader of this village?"

"No, young lad; we have no leader. Though I am the eldest. Sometimes ... decisions may have been deferred to me, in that regard."

"What you have done here, Alger, is a good thing. Watching over these people as you have done, is highly commendable."

"We watch over each other. It is our way."

"Your way ... is a good way."

"It is what is needful for the people of our village."

"I know most of you are refugees, from all walks of life. It is good these people have found a life."

"It is good Regan has found you, Prince Uther."

Pelleas' eyes widened in surprise. "So ... you heard me, after all."

"My wife and I heard, yes. Your secret is safe with us."

Pelleas sighed. "I fear ... our House has been the cause of these refugees."

"Unwanted children of Concubines and others, yes. But not only of your House, Prince Uther. These people have come from many Houses and many lands over many years. I, myself, came here as a child. All are welcome here."

"You are a great and noble man, Alger. I am honored to know you."

Alger shook his head in surprise. "I marvel at you, Prince Uther. You are unique among your line. I would not have thought..."

"Pelleas." he corrected. "Please call me Pelleas. And it is I, who marvel at you. You have my utmost respect. And my deepest gratitude for taking in Regan as you have done."

"Regan is a great blessing to us ... Pelleas. I am pleased she has found you. I am pleased you have found each other."

Pelleas smiled at the kind elder. "I take it ... you would not be opposed to our union?"

"You are welcome to live here with us, young lad. Until ... such as time as..."

"I understand." Pelleas said. "The day shall indeed come where I shall take her with me. You, of course, are welcome to..."

Alger held up his hand. "No, young prince. My place is here. This is where I am most needed."

"Thank you for your great kindness, Alger. And for your gracious hospitality. Perhaps someday I may be able to repay you."

"Love Regan, young prince. That is all that I would ever ask of you."

"You have my promise, Alger. I..."

Just then, Regan began to stir.

"I shall leave you, Pelleas." Alger winked. "So that you may learn of her answer."

Pelleas smiled as Alger turned and left, chuckling to himself.

*** *** ***

Regan was groggy as her eyes opened. And she looked around very confused. "Pelleas?"

"Hello, fair Regan." he smiled. "It seems the tables have turned. Now it is I watching over you."

Suddenly Regan's eyes widened fearfully as she began to remember; and she gasped.

"Please, Regan. Do not be afraid of me."

"I ... I ... how..."

"Does your head hurt? Can I get you something? Ceola is bringing a cool cloth for your head."

"I ... I ... how..."

"You do not remember fainting?" Pelleas smiled.

"I ... I remember..."

"Yes, Regan. The words I spoke to you are true. I am Uther. And I am in love with you."

"No!" she gasped, again. "You could NEVER ... love one such as I!"

"It is too late, I am afraid, fair Regan. You captured my heart months ago."

"No! This is ... this is ... this is wrong!"

"Why is it wrong, Regan?"

"I am of no station! I am as ... nothing!"

"No, it is you who are wrong, Regan. To me, you are everything."

"How can this be!?"

"I love you, Regan. I still await your answer to my question."

"You are the High Prince! I am of no station! You do not ... ask!"

Pelleas chuckled. "First of all Regan; I, too, am of no station. I am no longer a Prince. I also was cast out; four years ago."

"You are Prince Uther! Uther Pendragon!"

"No, I am Pelleas. The man who has just asked you to become his wife. And yes, I do ask; I would never take that which is not mine."

Regan groaned. "I do not feel well. Where is Ceola?"

"I am here, child." Ceola replied from the doorway. "You have a little bump on your head, but you are fine."

"I ... I ... I..."

Pelleas smiled and then took her hand and kissed it. "I shall leave you and give you time. Forgive me for causing you distress. When you are ready to give answer, let me know." Then Pelleas winked. "You know where to find me."

Once again, Regan's eyes widened in surprise. "Surely you jest!"

"Will you be visiting the well, tomorrow? I shall be there to draw you water."

"Pelleas!"

"Yes, Regan?"

"Do not ... do not..."

"Do not ... what?"

"Do not return to your camp! It is not safe there! Are you even well enough to..."

Pelleas shrugged. "I have survived much worse. I shall be fine."

"You were nearly dead when I found you!"

"True, I am still weak, but ... I have greatly improved, thanks to your care. I shall be fine."

"Pelleas..."

"Yes, Regan?"

"Do not ... leave."

Now it was Pelleas' turn to look surprised. "Where else would I go?"

"Do not leave ... me."

"Really?" Pelleas smiled. "You would have me stay ... here?"

"It would be better ... for you."

Pelleas turned and looked at Ceola, who was grinning at him. "Would this be okay with you and Alger?"

Ceola nodded. "If Regan has chosen this thing, then it is well with us. You may stay."

Pelleas then turned towards Regan. "Very well. I accept. But only under one condition."

Again, Regan's eyes widened.

"Regan, I believe you said I could ask you again 'tomorrow', for a kiss. Would this be too soon to ask, again?"

With her eyes still wide, Regan gulped. "If ... this would cause you stay and not return to your camp."

Pelleas looked at Ceola and winked. In response, Ceola smiled and turned and walked away. Then Pelleas walked to Regan's bed and sat beside her.

And then he gently leaned over and kissed her, albeit briefly.

Then, as he began to pull away, he was surprised when Regan grabbed his neck and pulled him back to her.

And then she kissed him.

For a very ... long ... time.

# Chapter 13

The following day was a sunny day, which was surprising as it was the middle of the fall rainy season. Outside under a tree, Pelleas and Regan had decided to have a picnic.

The previous night, Pelleas had slept upon the floor in Regan's room, insisting that she needed the bed more than he did.

Pelleas didn't sleep at all that night.

The reason? Honestly? His mind was consumed with thoughts of kissing. And ... climbing into Regan's bed. It was a very difficult night for Pelleas.

And not only for Pelleas; for Regan found herself thinking somewhat along the same lines, for Pelleas was lying on the floor, next to her bed.

But also ... her mind was filled with a thousand other thoughts, as well. The stunning revelation of Pelleas' true identity was overwhelming. And Regan found she simply couldn't come to terms with it. For it was far beyond her; and the many ramifications of becoming the wife of a High Prince was simply beyond her understanding and comprehension.

She didn't find peace, until she finally forced herself to stop thinking of him as Prince Uther, and merely as Pelleas. At least that was something she could grasp with some degree of understanding.

Regan had no idea what the future held. Or what marrying a Prince could someday possibly mean. But she could at least comprehend one thing. And that is when Regan finally admitted to herself, that she did indeed, love Pelleas.

Which is what finally led Regan to make her decision.

That morning at First Meal, Alger and Ceola announced that a woman at the far side of the village had taken seriously ill, and they would most likely be spending the day there to care for her. And most likely the night. And possibly even the following day. Or longer. You never know.

Regan thought it to be a little suspicious, as she remembered seeing the woman only two days earlier and the woman appeared to be fine and healthy. Nevertheless, Alger and Ceola were insistent and they had prepared lunch and dinner ahead of time for Pelleas and Regan.

After Alger and Ceola left - with sly smiles upon their faces, Pelleas and Regan found themselves alone in the house, with no one else around. For likely, a very long time.

And they both had never felt more awkward.

After a long time of awkward silence, Regan was the first to remember how to speak. "How about a picnic?" she suggested, nervously.

"That sounds nice." Pelleas replied, equally nervously. "It might be good to ... uh ... get outside. And not ... remain ... in here. Alone."

"It is nice weather, is it not?"

"It is nice weather, indeed."

"Lovely weather for this time of year." Reagan added.

"Yes it is, indeed."

"Shall I ... get the bedding?"

Pelleas raised his eyebrow.

"Oh! I meant ... sheets! No! I mean ... blankets! For the picnic!"

"Uh ... right. For the picnic. You get the ... blankets ... and I shall ... get the .... food. And the wine."

"Okay, Pelleas. I shall meet you outside."

"You ... do not wish me to wait for you?"

"I wish to ... clean up a little, first. You go on ahead and ... feel free to get started without me."

Pelleas raised his eyebrow, again.

"Oh! I meant ... I did not mean ... oh, just go, Pelleas; and I shall join you, soon. On the bedding. I mean blankets! I mean ... sitting! On the blankets! With you! Sitting! Having ... our meal!"

"But we just had First Meal a short time ago!"

"Just go, Pelleas. I am getting very confused."

"About what?"

"Nothing, just ... go."

"Uh ... oh. Okay."

*** *** ***

_One hour later..._

Pelleas was getting extremely anxious and wondering what had happened to Regan. He was worried that maybe she had fainted again, or fallen and bumped her head, again. But then again, what if she was ... dressing? Or ... bathing? Or washing and was undressed? Or ... whatever it was that she was doing.

Finally, Pelleas couldn't take it anymore and he rose to his feet. He had only taken his first step when Regan finally came out through the front door of the small house.

Pelleas had chosen a spot near a large shady white willow tree about fifty yards from the house. Native to Europe, white willows have their name derived from the white tone on the undersides of their leaves; giving the overall appearance of the beautiful tree a fairytale white misty look. And they remained beautiful even in the fall. As willow trees go, this one was typical in that it had long leafy branches that reached all the way to the ground, proving plenty of shade. And ... if someone so desired ... privacy.

Not that it was on anyone's mind or anything.

When Regan stepped out of the house, however, it stopped Pelleas dead in his tracks. Even from fifty yards away, Regan appeared breathtakingly beautiful. She was wearing a simple white cotton dress, simplest in all ways but one: standing in the bright mid-morning sun ... with her long brown hair draped about her shoulders ... and the sun reflecting off of her white dress, Regan looked like an angel.

Pelleas found it very difficult to breathe as she began walking towards him. And with each step, his heart pounded harder and harder.

Regan was smiling at him the whole way, for it was quite obvious to her that Pelleas approved.

A lot.

By the time she reached him, Pelleas was beginning to feel faint.

"Breathe, Pelleas." Regan giggled, coyly. "Your face is starting to turn blue."

"Regan!" Pelleas exclaimed. "I have never ... in all my life ... seen anything ... or anyone ... more beautiful! How ... where..."

"This once belonged to Ceola. I found it hanging in the washroom with my name written upon a small parchment. She had shown me this dress once before, after I first came to live with them. This was her ... wedding dress."

"A white ... wedding dress? That is ... an uncommon choice. Are not wedding dresses usually blue?"

"Yes, for blue represents purity. But I thought it was beautiful, nonetheless. And I told her so. It would seem, Pelleas, she wished for me to wear it."

Pelleas' eyes grew as large as the willow tree. "Why ... dare I ask ... would you be wearing this ... most beautiful ... wedding dress?"

Regan then came closer to Pelleas and took both of his hands in hers. And she looked at him with great love in her eyes.

Pelleas gulped.

Twice.

And then he gulped, again.

Finally he managed to speak in a very faint voice. "And why, dare I ask, do you look so beautiful, Regan? I have never seen you so ... so ... Regan!" Pelleas gasped. "There are no words!"

"Yes, Pelleas. My answer ... is yes."

"What!?"

"Yesterday, you asked me a question. My answer ... is yes."

"Yes, I can kiss you, again!?"

Regan laughed. "No, silly. Yes, I shall consent to become your wife."

Pelleas gulped, again. "Uh ... I was just kidding about the ... kissing, part. I knew what you meant. Please, God, tell me this is not a dream! For if it is, I do not wish to awaken!"

Regan laughed, again.

"I love your laugh, Regan. And I love your smile. I love everything about you."

"And I love you, too, Pelleas. More than I had realized. More than I had thought possible."

"Is this really happening?"

"If ... you so wish it."

"Are we ... really ... becoming man and wife?"

"Do you so wish it?"

"More than anything I have ever wished for in my life, Regan. Yes, I wish it with all of my heart."

"Then I do so commit myself to you, Pelleas. As your loving wife, from this day forward. Until death parts me from you."

Pelleas gulped again. "I cannot believe this is happening. Tell me this is not happening. This cannot really be happening."

Regan smiled at the deep love she saw in his eyes. "Is this your way of saying you love me?"

"Oh, Regan, I love you more than life itself! Yes! YES! I love you more than ... more than ... more than whatever could be more than!"

Regan laughed. "That shall do nicely, Husband."

"What!? Are you saying ... are we really..."

"Yes, Husband. I am now your wife. And I believe I owe you the promise of a kiss?"

Pelleas' eyes widened once more in surprise, but this time with joyous wonder and excitement. "Oh, God in heaven, have mercy upon me!" he exclaimed.

Then to Regan's great surprise, Pelleas whisked her up in both arms.

"EEEEEK! Pelleas!"

Laughing and with tears of joy in his eyes, Pelleas then brought her face close to his, and kissed his new wife.

For more ... than a very long time.

*** *** ***

And so it was, on a perfect and beautiful fall day, in an intimate setting beneath a white willow tree, that a newly married man and his newly married wife consummated their great love for one another.

And ... unbeknownst to them, fate had also determined one other amazing and wondrous event. For beneath the misty white willow tree during that beautiful and wondrous and most magical time of love's greatest expression, the Once and Future King, Arthur Pendragon, was conceived.

# ~ The Call ~

# Chapter 14

_Four weeks later_

The month of December was unusually snowful. And very stormful. And the weather outside was frightful. But the fire inside was delightful. And everyone inside was quite willing to let it snow and let it snow and let it snow.

It was a perfect time to remain cuddled up inside a nice warm house in front of a roaring fire hearth. It was especially nice when Alger and Ceola went to bed early; which seemed to be happening with nightly regularity lately, since the day Pelleas and Regan first became husband and wife.

The very happy and content newlyweds were spent after another romantic evening by the fire. Pelleas was lying on his back with his eyes closed while Regan was lying beside him, playing with his hair.

"You know why they turn in to bed early, Husband?"

Pelleas smiled. "I think I know the reason, Wife. To give us time to ourselves."

"They are happy for us, Husband."

"Alger and Ceola are very gracious. I have never known such giving people."

"They are also still in love. Even still, and even in these, their latter years, they are still in love. It brings a great warmth to my heart."

"You wish to know if we shall still be in love, even in our latter years."

Regan smiled and kissed him. "How is it you always know what I am thinking? Do you have the gift of reading hearts?"

Pelleas shook his head. "No. Though I have heard of this gift. I do not think I should ever want for such a gift. It seems it would be a curse and not a gift."

"To know truly what is in the hearts of others? You think this would be a curse?"

"To see and know the darkness of men's hearts? Those whom you thought were your friends? Yes. Truly it would be a curse above all curses. I would never want for such a gift."

Regan sighed as she rested her head upon his chest. "I had not thought of it in that regard. Perhaps you might be right."

"Why do you always listen to my heart, Regan?"

Regan smiled and closed her eyes as she listened, as she often did. "I do not have the gift of seeing hearts, either. But sometimes ... I can hear hearts."

"Hear ... hearts?"

"It is not easy to explain. But when I listen to your heart, I can ... hear ... what your heart speaks to me."

"Oh? And what does my heart speak to you?"

"That you love me. Almost more than anything."

Pelleas' eyes opened in surprise. "What!? What words are these? What do you mean by ... 'almost'?"

"You also love your brother, Husband."

"Oh."

"And I can hear it in your heart. Your heart is torn."

"Torn?"

"I hear the peace and contentment in your heart. You are happy, here. You are happy with me."

"More than you can possibly imagine, Regan. I have never known that such peace and happiness and contentment could exist. Truly you are an angel and I am in heaven."

Regan then turned and rested her face against his face. "Not have I known such happiness and joy. I, too, never thought such a thing as possible."

"But..."

"But ... you are not content to remain here."

Pelleas sighed. "You knew this was coming, Regan. I..."

Regan stopped him with her finger on his lips. "I know, Husband. You had told me before I made my decision. I know. When your brother calls..."

"...I must answer. It is my sworn duty."

"What will happen ... to us?"

"When Ambrosius sends for me, I shall go. And we shall win back the throne that is rightfully ours. Then ... and only then ... shall I return for you."

"You would not take me with you?"

"Not during war, my love. It shall be very dangerous and unsafe. If anything were to happen you, I ... I could not live with myself. I ... I do not think I could live at all."

"Pelleas! Do not speak such terrible things!"

"You are everything to me, Regan. Without you, I have nothing. I cannot ... I dare not ... and I will not ... take you into harm's way. You shall remain here where you shall be safe. When the battle is over, then I shall come for you."

"What if I you do not come for me?"

Pelleas abruptly sat up and looked at Regan in surprise. "Do you really believe? That I would not come for you?"

"No, husband, that is not what I meant. I meant ... what if something happens to you? So that you could not come for me? What if..."

Suddenly, Pelleas took hold of Reagan's face with his strong and sword-calloused hand, and looked her in the eye with the sharpest and most intense look she had ever seen in his eyes. "Regan, hear me."

Regan was startled by the change in his face. For the first time, she saw a savage intensity she never knew existed. For a moment she was almost frightened; though she knew the savageness was not directed towards her.

"Regan, as I have said before, I love you more than life itself. Nothing ... shall ever prevent me from coming for you. Do you understand me? NOTHING!"

With her eyes wide in alarm, Regan nodded her head.

Then Pelleas did something even more alarming. He reached over towards the fire hearth and took his sword. And Regan's heart began pounding in her chest, wondering what he was about to do. Then, to her horror, Pelleas drew the long sharp edge of the entire length of the sword across the palm of his hand.

"PELLEAS!!!" she screeched.

Then, with blood gushing forth from his hand and running down his arm, Pelleas reached over towards Regan. And to her further horror, he pressed his bloody palm against the side of her face.

"Regan, hear me." Pelleas repeated.

With eyes wide in terror, Regan looked into his eyes with fear and trembling.

Pelleas then spread the blood from his hand across first one side of her face and then the other; until both sides of her face were now covered with his blood. "This is my blood I now offer you, Wife. This is my most sacred oath. By my blood ... and With my life ... I shall come for you. And not even death itself can stop me. This I so swear."

"Pelleas..." Regan whimpered, with tears streaming down her face.

Finally Pelleas removed his bleeding hand from her face, and then showed her the terrible deep gash he had just inflicted upon himself. "Hear me, Wife; not a day shall go by where I shall not see this scar upon my hand. Not a day shall go by where I am not reminded of my blood oath. And not a day shall go by where I shall cease thinking of my great love for you. Do you understand?"

Regan could do no more than nod.

Pelleas looked at her for a time, until he was satisfied that she knew that he very much meant what he said. And then finally, the overpowering intensity faded from his eyes. And once more, the warmth returned.

Pelleas then slid the sword back in its sheath and set it on the floor by the fire hearth. Then ... of all things ... he smiled at her. "And if you doubt me again, woman...", he then finished his sentence by holding up his other hand.

Regan gasped and grabbed his good uncut hand. "DON'T ... YOU ... DARE!!!"

*** *** ***

Later that night, after Regan had bandaged his hand ... and washed the river of blood from his arm ... and made Pelleas change his bloodied clothes ... and cleaned up the pool of blood on the floor ... and changed her own bloodied clothes ... and washed her face ... repeatedly ... she finally took a deep breath and sat down cross-legged on the floor besides Pelleas.

"Uh ... sorry about the mess." Pelleas grinned, sheepishly.

For some reason, that struck Regan as funny and she laughed. "You, Uther Pendragon, are without a doubt, a passionate man if there ever was one."

Pelleas shrugged. "There are some things I feel passionate about. You happen to be at the top of the list. And I am a man of my word."

Regan shook her head at him. "I shall never doubt you again, Husband. But do me a favor, Pelleas. Next time, just say 'I promise'? It is less ... messier. Not to mention it would be much easier upon my frayed nerves."

Pelleas continued looking at Regan intently without even a hint of a smile.

"You ... can be a very intense man, Uther Pendragon."

"That is the second time you have called me by that name."

Regan shrugged. "I am ... trying it out. Trying to ... get used to it. Someday, I shall have to call you by that name."

"Would you have me call you Igraine?"

Regan began to chuckle.

"What is so amusing?"

"That we are having such a conversation; after being husband and wife for four weeks. Here we are, asking what names we should call each other by."

Pelleas finally broke a smile. "Yes, that is ... funny."

"You may call me Igraine, or you may call me Regan, Husband; whichever pleases you more."

"Perhaps ... when I know you are safe from the threat of Gorlois of Cornwall, I shall learn to call you Igraine."

Regan looked down at the ground for several long moments. "What you said to me ... some time ago ... about avenging my honor upon the Duke of Cornwall..."

"I had meant what I had said."

Regan sighed. "I believe you, now. And I believe you meant what you said, about ... you not resting until Gorlois knows your retribution. You even swore to it."

"I did."

"I must confess, Husband ... at the time you said it, I thought it to be mere ... bravado. Something a man would ... say. But you are different from other men. You would really do this thing."

"He has forfeit his life. His days are numbered. I shall personally see to that."

"Husband, this ... this is not a good thing."

"What?"

"A life of vengeance ... is not a good life. It is not a good way to live."

"But what he has done..."

"...has been done, Husband. It is in the past. It is behind me. I have a new life before me. And I have a new husband with me. I do not wish for a life filled with malice and vengeful thinking. It is not a good life."

"I cannot let his crimes go unpunished!"

"Then let him know justice, but not vengeance! Do you understand the difference?"

"I ... understand the difference."

"Think on my words, husband. That is all I am asking."

"I shall ... consider upon your words, Wife. If you shall consider upon my request."

"What request would that be?"

Pelleas smiled at Regan.

"Oh, you cannot be serious!"

"Did you not say I am a passionate man?"

"Pelleas! Your hand! You all but sliced your hand in two!"

"My left hand shall mend." Pelleas shrugged with a mischievous grin. "It is a good thing I am right-handed."

"PELLEAS!!!"

Pelleas chuckled as he reached over and grabbed Regan around the waist with his good hand, causing her to laugh as she became ticklish. "Pelleas, I do not believe you!"

He smiled and kissed her, and then leaned back. "If you are weary, I understand."

"No, it is not that, dear Pelleas. And may I just say you are a wonderful, tender and gentle husband and I love you very much? I could never say 'no' to you."

"I like the sound of that." Pelleas grinned.

"It is just that..."

"What is it, Regan? Does something else trouble you?"

"Not ... trouble me ... exactly."

"Then what is it?"

"Well ... I suppose this is as good a time as any. Do you remember how I just said a few moments ago that I have a new husband with me and a new life before me?"

"I have not forgotten your words, Wife."

"You should also know, Husband, that I also have a new life ... inside of me."

Pelleas' eyes suddenly grew as large as the fire hearth.

Regan smiled at him tenderly as she touched her hand to her stomach.

"REGAN!" he exclaimed, breathlessly.

"Yes, Husband. I am with child."

"How ... when..."

Regan laughed. "Did you just ask me how? I think you know 'how'. As far as when? Surely you jest. I mean, for the last four weeks you have..."

Pelleas surprised Regan when he suddenly grabbed her in his arms and hugged her tightly. A little too tightly.

"Uh ... Husband ... perhaps not so ... uh ... you are squishing me."

Pelleas chuckled as he released his powerful grip. "Forgive me, Regan. I am a bit overjoyed at this wonderful news."

Regan looked at Pelleas for a long time; peering deep into his eyes. And Pelleas saw there was still something else troubling her. "Regan? What is the matter?"

"You ... may not be so overjoyed, Husband."

"What!? Why would you say that?"

"The child ... may not be..." and then to Pelleas' surprise, he saw a look of shame on her face followed by a tear.

"Reagan! What is it!? Please tell me!!"

"I ... I do not have a good ... record of birthing. The child ... may not be ... in fact, there is a good chance it may not be..."

"What!? The child may not be what, Regan!?"

Reagan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "There is a good chance I may not bear you a son."

"A son? Okay. And?"

"And ... wait, did you hear what I said?"

"You said it may not be a son. It may be a daughter. What is the problem, Regan?"

Regan's eyes opened in surprise. "You ... would not be displeased about ... a ... daughter?"

"What!? No! Of course, not! Why would that matter!? If it is a boy, he shall become a Knight and a great swordsman and warrior! If it is a girl...", Pelleas grinned, "...she shall become the most spoiled daughter in all the world."

Regan looked at Pelleas in wonder. For it was the last remaining fear that she had been holding onto for a very long time. And then in an instant, she burst into tears and began to sob.

Pelleas had no clue as to what brought that all on. "What!? What did I say!? Forgive me, Regan, but what did I say!? Can I take it back!?"

And in the midst of her sobbing, Regan somehow managed to laugh at the same time.

Which caused Pelleas to be even more confused.

Pelleas never did get his answer that night, as to what caused her to start crying like that, all of a sudden. But one thing he did get ... was his wish for more passion in front of the fire hearth.

# Chapter 15

_Eight months later_

As Regan's labor pains increased, so did Pelleas' worry. But Ceola seemed to know what she doing and didn't seem at all alarmed. She asked Alger to take Pelleas outside while she prepared Regan for the birthing, but Pelleas was insistent about remaining at Regan's side. Eventually Pelleas won.

"Husband..." Regan smiled weakly, once the last round of birth pangs finally passed. "You are still here."

"I had told you I would not leave your side. Yes, I am still here."

"You should not be here." Ceola frowned. "The birthing room is no place for a man."

"I appreciate your opinion, Ceola." Pelleas replied. "But Regan has not known the most ... 'pleasant' of times of birth experiences in the past. I have promised this time would be different. I shall remain with my wife."

"This may not be a 'pleasant' experience for you, Pelleas." Ceola argued.

"Regan is strong." Pelleas countered. "To have known the things she has known and still be ... Regan; my wife has proven herself to be strong. And my being here shall give her more strength. I shall remain with my wife."

Regan smiled at Ceola. "He shall not budge, Ceola. He is a most determined man."

"Determined as are you, dear." Ceola sighed. "After learning these months what you have been through ... with that evil Duke at Cornwall ... you are a most determined woman. You two are fit for each other."

Pelleas looked at Regan, slightly confused. "Was that a compliment? Or an insult?"

Regan managed a small chuckle. "I believe it was both, and it was neither. It was..."

Suddenly Regan's eyes widened.

Ceola rushed over to Regan's side. Then she turned and faced Pelleas. "It is time. And it is time for you to leave."

But Pelleas still refused to leave.

"Then stay out of my way." Ceola frowned. Then waved Pelleas towards the head of Regan's bed. "Stay ... over there, somewhere."

Pelleas nodded and knelt on the floor beside Regan as he took one of her hands in his. As Regan began to cry out in pain, Pelleas whispered in her ear, "I shall not leave you. You shall not be alone."

Regan nodded as tears came to her eyes, and the sharp pains of delivery began.

Moments later, Regan screamed.

And then it was over.

*** *** ***

It was a simple birth, really. With no problems or complications, it went unusually quick and was over in less than an hour.

It was late summer, and a new Pendragon had been born.

"Regan?" Ceola smiled tenderly as she brought the tiny infant around to her. "You have borne a son."

As Ceola lay the tiny infant in Regan's arms, tears of joy were streaming down the faces of both mother and father. And after Ceola kissed Regan on the cheek and congratulated Pelleas, she left the room to give them some time alone.

Regan then turned towards Pelleas and showed him the child. "Husband, I have made you a son!"

Pelleas nodded and looked at the tiny infant in awe. "I ... I am without words. This child you have made ... is beautiful beyond words. Well done, wife."

"You are pleased, Husband?"

"As I told you, Regan; whether it be son or daughter, I would be pleased. You have done a beautiful thing, Wife."

Then he leaned over and kissed Regan, and then in turn kissed the infant on the forehead.

"Although..." Pelleas started to say with a frown.

"Is something wrong, Pelleas?"

"There is a small problem."

"Oh, no!"

"In truth, Regan; I had been expecting a daughter. I had arranged with the seamstress to make a ... _ahem_ ... here, I shall show you." And Pelleas reached over to a nearby chest of drawers, and from the bottom drawer he pulled out a very tiny...

"It is a dress."

"What!?"

"I had meant it as a surprise! I was going to surprise you! With a new ... dress ... for our new ... baby ... daughter."

Regan hid a smile with her hand. "Husband, babies ... do not wear ... dresses. Even ... girl babies."

"Oh. The seamstress said the same thing. But she is elderly, so I thought, perhaps ... well anyway, I insisted. But you tricked me and have made a boy." he teased. "Do you think they make armor in his size?"

In spite of her exhaustion, Regan laughed. "You, Uther Pendragon, are a most amazing man."

"Is ... that a compliment or an insult?" Pelleas grinned.

"Give me your hand."

Pelleas started to offer her his right hand.

"No, the other one."

Pelleas shrugged and offered her his left hand; the one with a long deep white scar across his palm. Then Regan took his hand and placed the scarred palm against the side of her face. "You stayed with me. You did not leave me."

"As I said I would."

"Thank you, Pelleas. You will never know how much that meant to me."

"This, Regan, is what it is to bear a child in love. I love you, Wife."

"And I love you, Husband."

"May I ... hold our child?"

"Of course!" Regan smiled. "It is for you to hold him and to name him. You are his father."

Pelleas sighed in wonder as she placed the tiny infant into his large hands. "I am a father. I have a son. This is a most ... wondrous thing. Regan! You and I ... we have a son!"

"Have you chosen a name for our son?"

"I had chosen a name for our daughter." Pelleas grinned, sheepishly.

Once again, Regan laughed. "Very well. Before you choose a new name for our son, I must know what you had chosen for our daughter."

"It is too bad. I had rather liked the name I had chosen."

"Tell me already! What was to be the name of our daughter?"

"Morgan le Fay."

Regan looked at Pelleas in surprise. "Truly!? That is a most ... beautiful ... but ... unusual name!"

"It means 'fairy spirit'. You had told me you believed our child was conceived upon our wedding day, beneath the white willow. That was a magical moment, one which I have never forgotten. It was during that magical moment when our two spirits conceived the spirit of our child. The name seemed ... fitting."

Regan gave Pelleas a tender smile. "Husband, I believe you have a romantic side. Now that I know the meaning, it is indeed a most beautiful name. And yes, it was a magical time for me, as well; I, too, have never forgotten it."

Pelleas then looked at his new son and smiled. "But now ... it seems our moment of magic has made a son, rather than a daughter."

"It is for you to name our son, Husband. It is our way."

"In truth, Regan, I am unsure what to name him."

"What does your name mean, Husband?"

"Which name? Pelleas? Uther? Pendragon?"

Regan smiled. "You are my husband. I should know this. Tell me all of them."

"Very well. My name of exile: Pelleas, means ... 'Fisher King'. I ... like to fish."

Regan gasped.

"What? What is it?"

"I ... I once had a dream ... long ago ... about ... The Fisher King."

Pelleas raised his eyebrow. "A ... dream?"

Regan shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. It was nothing. It was only a dream. And Uther? What is the meaning of 'Uther'?"

Pelleas shrugged. "My father named me Uther. It means 'fearsome'."

Once again, Regan's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh."

"What? Did you have a dream about that, too?"

"It ... it is nothing. It is unimportant."

"Regan?" Pelleas asked. "Do you know something? Some say, a name determines what you shall become. Is there something I should know?"

"Nothing. Never mind. It was nothing. It was only a silly dream. What about Pendragon? Who gave you this name?"

"Our father gave my brother and I, our birth names. The name of my brother Ambrosius means 'immortal'. My father named me 'fearsome'. Our father was a strong and proud man. He was a powerful warlord before he became High King. These are names which such a strong father would call his sons. As for our chosen names, those are names which we as royals choose for ourselves when we become of age. Ambrosius chose the name 'Aurelianus' for himself, meaning 'golden'. As heir to the throne, it was my brother's belief he would usher in a new 'Golden Age' to the realm.

Regan raised her eyebrow.

Pelleas chuckled. "Ambrosius has always thought fairly highly of himself."

"So it would seem."

"He may be proud and uh ... assertive; and perhaps just a bit ... ruthless; but Ambrosius is not haughty or conceited. My brother is a great military strategist and he believes he is destined for great things. And I, for one, happen to agree with him."

"You, Pelleas, are different from your brother."

"That is why he is destined to be king. I, a good king, would not make."

"I think you might be surprised what would make for a good king, Uther Pendragon."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind. I am merely a tired and exhausted woman; pay me no heed, Pelleas."

"Do you need to rest, Regan?"

"Soon. I shall tell you when. Now tell me about the name you have chosen for yourself - Pendragon."

Pelleas smiled and shrugged. "Very well. If you must know the truth, one night I saw a ... flying star."

"A flying star?"

"Yes. A flying star. It passed slowly, lasting all through the night. It was in the shape of a ... dragon."

"I see." Regan smiled. "So you named yourself after a flying star shaped like a dragon?"

"At the time, I thought it was a portentous sign. To this day, I am not sure what it meant. But ... I thought it would look good as my standard."

Regan chuckled. "You thought a dragon makes for a good symbol. I see. Yes, Uther Pendragon, you most certainly have a romantic side to you."

Pelleas smiled. "It is more than that, Regan. Pendragon means 'Chief Dragon'. You may or may not know this, but there are Great Houses and Minor Houses. As Ambrosius and I were each a High Prince of the High King, we were each consequently given to be the head of our own Great Houses; once we were to come to adulthood, that is; after we had taken our first wife. Ambrosius was to be head of House Aurelianus, whereas I was to be head of House Pendragon."

"I understand. So, the names you and your brother chose for yourselves, were to be the names of your Houses; including you and all of your descendants."

"Yes. That is why I say, I thought a dragon would make a good standard for my House."

Regan smiled. "I still say there is a romantic side to you."

Pelleas looked down at the sleeping infant in his arms and sighed. "If this is what the romantic side of me has brought forth, then so be it."

"Have you thought of a name, yet?"

"I have. Our discussion of names has helped inspire me."

"I thought it might." Regan grinned.

"You are a clever woman, wife of mine. Indeed you are."

"So? Do not keep me in suspense, Husband! What name have you chosen for our son?"

"I have chosen the name ... Arthur."

"Arthur." Regan thought to herself. "That is a good, strong name."

"Indeed. It means 'stone'. If names are any indication of a man's destiny, then I believe our son shall become a rock. And a solid foundation for our future."

"I like this name, Husband. You have chosen well."

Pelleas grinned. "It is either that or Morgan le Fay. How do you think he would look in a dress?"

Regan laughed. Then she sighed and looked at Pelleas with a tender smile. "Thank you, Pelleas. You have brought me much joy and happiness. Thank you for making my life complete."

Pelleas returned her smile as he handed the infant back to Regan. "He has your brown eyes. And your brown hair. He even has your face."

Regan kissed the infant on the forehead as she cradled him in her arms. "Arthur Pendragon. Our rock and our future. May it be so, my son; may it be so."

# Chapter 16

_Three months later_

"PELLEAS! MEN ARE COMING!"

Pelleas woke up with a start from his fall afternoon nap with Regan and the baby, beneath the white willow tree.

"Ceola!? What men!?"

"Many men, Pelleas! Alger sent me to tell you!"

Pelleas leaped to his feet, as Regan sat up with fear in her eyes.

"How many men, Ceola!?" Pelleas asked.

"My husband counted eighty men! Some of them are..."

"...Knights." Pelleas finished. "Yes, I think I know who they are. Tell Alger not to panic. Tell the villagers they shall not attack the village. No one shall be harmed; they come for me. How far away are they?"

"Alger said three leagues."

Pelleas nodded. "Then they shall be here within the hour."

"Who are they, Pelleas!?" Regan asked, although she already knew the answer.

"My brother has called for me. He is ready to march on Vortigern. He has sent a centuria of troops to see to my safe return to join him."

Regan's eyes began to fill with tears. "I knew this day was coming. But..."

"Reagan..." Pelleas smiled, as he tenderly placed his left hand upon her cheek.

"I know, Husband." she replied, as she pressed his hand tighter against her face to feel his scar.

Pelleas kissed her.

Then Pelleas kissed the small white ribbon in her hair. For Regan had removed a small piece of her wedding dress material, which she now always wore in her long brown hair. It was her answer to the scar on Pelleas' hand; her promise that she belonged to him.

Pelleas then knelt down upon the blanket beside his still sleeping son. He then placed his scarred hand upon the side of the child's face. "I make the same vow for you, son. I shall return for you. I shall return for you both."

Pelleas then rose to his feet and faced Regan. "I need you to do something for me, Regan; before the soldiers get here."

"Anything, Husband." Regan wept.

"I need you to be strong ... and I need you to hide."

"H-h-hide?"

"I do not know who these eighty men shall be. My brother trusts them, but I do not know them. Ambrosius has drawn men from every region. I do not know, but what some of them may be from Cornwall. It is best for you to remain out of sight until after they leave."

"I understand, Husband."

Pelleas then turned to Ceola. "I need you to make sure my wife and son remain hidden."

Ceola bowed to him. "I understand, Prince Uther. The child must be beyond hearing distance, should the child cry. We shall leave the village and remain in the forest until the soldiers are gone."

"Ceola?" Uther smiled at her, shaking his head. "Do not ever ... bow to me again. It is I who should bow to you. We owe you so much. We owe you everything. Thank you for everything you and Alger have done for us. I shall not forget your kindness."

"Eh. I am nothing but an old woman."

"You are not old, Ceola." Pelleas grinned. "You are still feisty and you still have many years ahead of you."

Ceola looked at Pelleas, seriously and intently. "Alger and I shall watch over your wife and child, Pelleas. We give you our oath. You, however, I would hear your oath that you shall watch over yourself."

"I am not a foolhardy man, Ceola. I am skilled with the sword and I shall not take unnecessary risks. I know I have a family that awaits me. You have my oath; I shall return."

"You are a fool if you do not think war changes a man, Pelleas." Ceola said in warning. "Mark my words, there is more at risk than only your body."

Pelleas nodded. "I hear your words, Ceola. Thank you for your counsel."

"You are young, Pelleas. You would do well to do more than hear my words."

Pelleas grinned at her. "See? Did I not say you were feisty? Thank you, Ceola; thank you for your counsel."

Ceola sighed and Pelleas turned back towards Regan. "Come, I shall help you pack supplies and we shall say our goodbyes."

Regan nodded as she wiped the tears from her eyes and picked up the baby. "I shall be strong for you, Husband. I shall save my tears for after you leave."

Pelleas smiled at her and kissed her, and once more kissed the white ribbon in her hair. And then along with Ceola they went into the small village house to pack and to prepare to go their separate paths.

# Chapter 17

A short time later, the centuria of eighty men led by three Knights arrived in the village. Pelleas along with Alger greeted them, along with nearly all of the two hundred villagers.

Pelleas recognized the head Knight, but the other two he didn't know. The head Knight was a giant bear of a man standing 7'4" tall, with long, dark brown braided hair and a long moustache. He was powerfully built, and Pelleas remembered from childhood that the large Knight stood head and shoulders above even the tallest of other men. And although he was extremely intimidating, Pelleas knew him well and was pleased to see him.

"Hello, Bors." Pelleas grinned. "Fancy meeting you here."

Bors looked at Pelleas in surprise. "Prince Uther!? Is that you!?"

"Surely you recognize the only man who has ever bested you with a sword?"

Bors grinned. "It was only once, my Prince; and only because I was drunken."

"You still hold to that excuse?" Pelleas chuckled.

Bors then clapped his fist to his massive armored chest and bowed his head. The other Knights and the rest of the soldiers immediately did likewise. "My liege; Sir Bors at your service. How would you command us?"

"It is good to see you again, Bors. The years have been good to you. Tell your men to be at ease."

Bors looked at his second in command and nodded. The man in turn then signaled for the rest of the men to dismount. After Bors himself dismounted, he walked up to Pelleas and bent down upon one knee, and once more clapped his fist to his chest. Pelleas tapped the giant man on the shoulder to give him permission to rise.

"Report, Sir Knight."

Bors rose to his feet, towering over Pelleas. Then he looked at Alger and the rest of the villagers.

"You may speak freely, Bors. These are friends. I have lived among them for a time. There are no warriors nor spies among them. They are peaceful and care not for matters of war."

Bors seemed reluctant and uncomfortable with revealing crucial information in a public setting.

Pelleas nodded in understanding. "Very well. Report in general, but give no details. We shall speak more in private."

"Of course, my liege; as you command. Prince Ambrosius has completed assembling his forces. We march in forty days. He requests you to join him at his camp to make final preparations."

"I am prepared to go, straight away, Bors. Without revealing direction, how far to my brother's camp?"

"We have traveled a fortnight, my liege; with little rest."

"Two weeks. Your men must be weary. Have them set up camp and we shall leave at dawn."

Once more Bors clapped his fist to his chest. "As you wish, my liege."

"Oh, and Bors?" Pelleas said, looked at Alger and the rest of the villagers. "As I have said, these are friends. I expect your men to treat them with the highest regard and respect."

"My liege, they are but peasants!"

"They are ... my friends. You shall obey me in this, Sir Bors. I shall have the head of any man who causes them harm. Even...", then Pelleas nodded at the two accompanying Knights.

Bors turned and looked at the two Knights. "You heard the words of High Prince Uther Pendragon."

Both the two Knights clapped their fists to their chest and bowed their heads.

Bors then looked back at Pelleas. "It shall be as you say, my liege. No harm shall come to these ... peasants."

Pelleas then looked at the two Knights. "And keep the men away from the women."

The two Knights looked at Pelleas in surprise.

"I do not jest. I command you as High Prince, let no man lay a hand upon any women in this village. Do you understand?"

And once again the two Knights clapped their fists to their chests.

Bors was now looking curiously at Pelleas.

"You have something to say, Sir Bors?" Pelleas asked. "You may speak freely."

"If it please my liege, I should prefer to await until we may speak in private."

"Very well. Alger? May we speak in your house?"

"Of course, Prince Uther." Alger said, with a bow. "My house is your house."

Pelleas patted Alger on the shoulder and then motioned Bors to follow him.

*** *** ***

"You have changed." noted Bors.

Bors and Pelleas had just sat down at Alger's eating table, upon which sat two cups of water and a loaf of bread.

"I apologize, Bors; but there is no ale in this village. Water is all I can offer you."

"You would serve ... me?"

"Bors, you and have I have known each other since we were children. We entered Knight training together when we were seven years of age. There is no reason to not show each other common courtesy. Please; speak what is on your mind."

"Very well. The men were greatly looking forward to having the women. It has been a long trip and they have not had a woman in some time. Yet you deny them. Especially the Knights! If anyone should have these peasant women it ought to be the Knights! They deserve it! That is the way of things! How can you deny them the women!? It is their right as Knights!"

"They are my friends."

"ALL of them!? Surely you can spare some of the women! As for me? I would even be willing to make a sacrifice for my men. I would be satisfied with only two women."

"No, Bors; I do not mean the women are all mine. I mean ... they are friends. Truly."

"What words do you speak!? And why do you live among ... peasants!?"

"Why not?"

"And why do you ... care ... for peasants?"

"I have been on my own for five years, Bors. I have learned much since my time away from the throne."

"I see." Bors replied, looking around at the tiny and meager shack. "You say this 'house' belongs to the old man?"

"It does. Why do you ask?"

"I see signs of ... women. And I smell ... the smells of a nursery."

"The wife of Alger sometimes takes in infants. That is all."

"You live here?"

"I ... have a camp not far from the village."

"Ah."

Pelleas grinned at Bors. "Surely, you did not think..."

"No, my liege!"

"I mean, really. Me? A High Prince and a son of High King Constans? With a ... peasant!? Surely, you jest."

"Surely not, my liege!"

"Good. Now that that is out of the way, how is Ambrosius?"

"He is strong." Bors proudly announced. "All the troops revere him, as do all of the Knights. He shall make for a great king and a great ruler."

"I know he will." Pelleas smiled. "Ambrosius was always destined for great things."

"Indeed, he is."

"You have been with my brother for all of these past five years. You think very highly of him."

"Prince Ambrosius is a great man."

"You are very loyal to my brother, Bors. I can see that. I am pleased my brother has had someone like you at his side."

"He has named me Captain of the Knights." Bors said, beaming with pride.

"Good! Congratulations; you deserve it. I always knew you were destined to become a great Knight. Any man who could best me..." Pelleas teased.

"Thank you, my liege."

"Bors, before we get into details, there is one matter I wish to get out on the table."

"Of course, my liege."

"I agree with you. My brother shall make for a great king and a great ruler. I have always known that, even since we were small. Bors, I have no design upon my brother's rightful place upon the throne. I have no desire to be king. I would not make a good king. I am too..."

"...soft." Bors finished.

Pelleas raised his eyebrow. "I was going to say ... amenable."

"Forgive me, my liege; I had only meant..."

"I know what you meant, Bors. You respect strength. And you respect power and authority and superiority. Just as you should. We both know I am not such a man. I am quite content to have my brother sit upon the throne. I have no desire to rule; I never have."

Bors looked at Pelleas for a very long time. Finally he nodded. "I see you speak the truth. Thank you for telling me. This sets my mind at ease."

"You have seen much treachery, Bors. I know it has not been an easy five years for you."

"I have been responsible for determining who is loyal and who is not."

"I know this. And you have personally taken care of those suspected to be traitors and spies. Ambrosius has told me of this in his letters. He trusts you, implicitly. And I wish to thank you, personally, for watching out for my brother. He could not have a better man, watching his back. Like my brother, I also hold you in high regard."

"Thank you, my liege. You do me great honor."

"So tell me, Bors. Truthfully. Man to man, soldier to soldier; can we win? Can we defeat Vortigern?"

Bors grinned. "We have already all but won, my liege."

"What!?"

"We march upon Vortigern in forty days, that is true. But already, two-thirds of Vortigern's own army are our own men."

"WHAT!?"

"It was your brother's conception from the very beginning. For five years we have been carefully supplanting his own troops with those loyal to Ambrosius."

"Really!?" Pelleas exclaimed, rising to his feet in surprise. He walked over the nearby window and looked out, thinking to himself for a moment. Then he turned back around and looked at Bors. "REALLY!?"

"Indeed. We have men not only filling the ranks of Vortigern's own troops, but we have spies positioned all throughout his palace. Even ... his own Concubines."

Pelleas' eyes widened in surprise.

Bors winked at Pelleas. "Not only some; all of Vortigern's Concubines are loyal to your brother. They were once quite fond of him, you know."

Pelleas chuckled. "Yes, and I recall he was quite fond of my father's Concubines. Let me guess ... you learned a lot from them."

"In truth, they have been our greatest source of information."

"Vortigern visits them often, I take it?"

"And it is among his Concubines where he often likes to boast of his plans and brag of his accomplishments."

Pelleas shook his head, marveling at his brother. "I see my brother has been busy these past five years. He always was a brilliant strategist."

Bors nodded. "There shall still be a battle, of course. But as I have said..."

"...it is all but won. Yes, I heard you." Pelleas then sat back down at the table and smiled at Bors. "Once again proving, my brother was meant to be king. This is going to be easier than I had thought."

"He had named you as his General, you know." Bors said.

"WHAT!?"

"Commander General of the Knights and the Armed Forces."

"WHY!?"

"You are a High Prince. Your brother is to be High King. You are Second in Command. This is your rightful place, Prince Uther."

"Bors, I have been out the picture for five years! I cannot be the Commander General!"

"Have you kept with your training?"

"Of course I have. Not a day goes by where I do not train." Then Pelleas looked at the long scar on his hand. "I may know my way around a sword, but I am no leader of men. What is my brother thinking!? This is NOT sound military strategy!"

"You brother honors you, Prince Uther. He has always thought highly of you. You are the only family he has left. He ... cares for you."

Pelleas looked at Bors in surprise. "Really?"

"You are bound by blood. I daresay you are the most important person in all the world to Ambrosius. This is why he has sent a column of eighty soldiers to see you safely to his camp. You can see he even spared three Knights. He very much looks forward to seeing you, again."

"Well, now." Pelleas replied, looking again at his hand. "I ... of course, have been looking forward to seeing him, again, too. I just did not think ... I thought ... you know ... with all his planning and recruiting and strategizing and everything ... I thought he would have been ... busy."

"Why do you think your brother has kept you away?" Bors smiled.

"I do not know. To ... keep me out of the way?"

"No, Prince Uther. That has never been his reason. You are his ... 'little brother', as he often calls you. And he calls you thus with great affection."

"You are saying he has been protecting me."

"Yes."

Pelleas nodded and didn't say anything for a time. Finally he looked at Bors with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for telling me this, Bors."

"Of course, my liege. I thought you should know."

Pelleas then grinned at Bors. "I have a confession to make to you, Bors."

"Oh?"

"I do have a little ... wine ... hidden away."

And Bors grinned.

# Chapter 18

_Two weeks later_

Prince Uther Pendragon and Captain Bors of the Knighthood reigned in their horses as they reached the final mountain pass, overlooking a hidden valley; where below Uther could see his brother's forces for the very first time.

Uther began shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of seventy thousand soldiers encamped.

Bors turned and grinned at Uther. "Impressive, would you not agree?"

Uther continued shaking his head. "And these are only those on the outside, not counting all those secretly within Vortigern's own army."

"Indeed."

"Bors? A moment of your time, if you will?"

Bors raised his eyebrow. "You do not wish to proceed? We can arrive before nightfall."

"I need to speak with you a moment, Bors. Now."

Bors clapped his fist to his chest. "Of course, my liege." Bors then nodded towards his Second, who ordered all the men to stop for a brief rest.

"Walk with me." Uther said, after they dismounted.

Bors nodded and followed Uther some distance away, well beyond earshot of the rest of the centuria of eighty men. Once Uther was satisfied they were distant enough, he stopped and looked at Bors.

"My liege? Is there a problem?"

"Is there a problem? Surely you jest."

"My liege, I do not understand."

"Seventy ... thousand ... men!? Are you KIDDING me!?"

Bors looked at Uther in surprise. "I ... I do not understand."

"Seventy ... thousand ... men!? Bors, I cannot command seventy thousand men! Are you insane!?"

"My liege..."

"And stop 'my liege-ing' me, already. Bors, I am NOT a General!"

Bors suddenly began to get angry with Uther. "You are a son of Constans! Constantine was your grandsire! You are High Prince Uther Pendragon! You shall lead these men! It is your duty! Do not think to shirk your responsibility..."

Uther held up a hand to stop him mid-sentence. And to Bors' surprise, Uther was grinning at him. "Good. That is what I was looking for. That is what I need."

"WHAT!?"

"I was goading you, Bors. I need you to speak plainly with me, just as you have done."

Bors looked at him in surprise.

"I have been trained with a sword, but I have not been trained as a military leader. I have no experience in anything like this. Let us not kid ourselves; we both know I am not qualified to lead seventy thousand men into battle."

"You are..."

"I know who I am, Bors. And I know my responsibility. And I do not shirk what I have been entrusted with. EVER! Have I made myself clear!?"

"Yes, my liege. I ... forgive me, my liege."

"NO! No 'forgive me'! I NEED you to speak plainly with me! I need you to tell me what to do! If ever there should be a General of these men, it should be someone like you, not me. You have been with them and have been training with them and leading your men for the past five years! But my brother has named me General. And I understand the reason why. And I respect the reason why. And I am honored that he would give me this title. But you and I both know ... I am no Battlemaster."

"What are you saying?"

"I want my brother to succeed and to be victorious. Answer me truly, Bors. Would my brother have greater success at victory with me as his General? Or with someone like you?"

Bors' eyes widened.

"Answer me, Bors. And do not lie to me."

"I ... I ... I ..."

"Answer me, Bors."

"I ... I cannot answer that question."

Uther smiled at Bors. "I marvel at your loyalty to the throne, Bors. My respect for you mounts with each passing day. Here is what I am saying. I shall bear the title of Battlemaster General; just as my brother wishes. Indeed, I shall do ANYTHING my brother wishes; for I am equally as loyal to him as you are. Even more so, if you care to debate."

Bors smiled.

"It would be an insult to my brother to turn him down or to not do whatsoever he might ask of me. But I shall be General in name, only. You, Bors, shall be the true General of this battle."

"WHAT!?"

"I want my brother to succeed, Bors. I want him to be victorious. I need you. I need you to tell me what to do. And if you see me making a mistake, I need you to kick me in the rear, if need be. But whatever you do, do not let me foul up, in any way, any of my brother's plans. Do you understand me?"

Bors looked intently into Uther's eyes for a time. Finally he nodded, approvingly. "You are wiser that I had first thought, Uther Pendragon. I had always known you were smart, even when we were children. I may have been larger and of greater strength, but you often managed to outsmart me. I see the last five years have not lessened your craftiness."

"Craftiness?"

"You goaded my anger to cause me to speak plainly. You are as crafty as a fox."

Uther grinned. "Is this your way of saying you agree to my terms?"

"Do you truly give me permission to kick your royal rear if need be?"

Uther chuckled. "Only ... do not do it front of the men."

"Somewhere in private?"

"Uh ... yes."

"Where we now stand ... is this private, enough?"

"Huh? What?"

Suddenly to Uther's shock, Bors spun around kicked Uther in his royal behind, sending him face first into the dirt.

Uther instantly leaped up in fury. "WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR!?"

"Why did you live among peasants!? Why did you deny those women to my men!? Explain that cut upon your left hand ... my liege."

"WHAT!?"

"Shall I kick you, again?"

"WHAT!?"

Bors reared back his foot to kick him, again.

"WAIT!" Uther screeched, taking a few steps backwards. "It ... it was an accident!"

"An accident, you say?'

"A woodcutting accident! I ... I ... I was chopping wood for a fire!"

"It was no axe; that cut upon your hand was made by a sword!"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

"You lie to me."

"WHAT!?"

Bors took two threatening steps towards Uther, causing Uther to take two more steps back. "I am skilled at knowing when men lie to me. I can see it their eyes and hear it in their voice. I have been the hand of Ambrosius to determine who is loyal and who is not. Tell me, again, how that sword cut came to be upon your hand. It was a blood oath, was it not?"

Uther held up both of hands in surrender. "Fine! I shall tell you the truth. We are far enough away, I guess it cannot hurt."

"Far enough away from what?"

"Yes, Bors. You are right. It is a blood oath."

"To whom did you make this blood oath?"

Uther took a deep breath, and then looked down at the ground. "I made this blood oath ... to a woman."

"WHAT!?"

"You heard me. I had made this blood oath to a woman."

"A MAN DOES NOT MAKE A BLOOD OATH TO A WOMAN! ANY MORE THAN HE MAKES A BLOOD OATH TO A HORSE! LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND SPEAK TO ME THE TRUTH!!!"

Uther raised his head and looked Bors directly in the eye. "A husband ... has made this blood oath ... to his wife."

Bors' eyes widened in shock.

"And ... to his son."

Bors gasped. "No!"

"Yes, Bors. That peasant house we were in? That is where my wife and my one year old son also live."

"PEASANTS!!? YOU ARE A HIGH PRINCE OF THE REALM!!!"

"You wanted the truth. Now you have the truth." Uther then held up his hand and showed Bors the long white scar. "When the battle is over and Ambrosius is seated upon the throne, I shall return for my wife and son."

Bors was visibly shaking with rage.

"You can strike me down if you like, Sir Bors. But High Prince or not, I have chosen a wife. And I have a son. And I have named him Arthur ... Pendragon."

**"NO!!!"**

"So what is it going to be, Sir Knight? Are you going to strike me down? Are you going to report this to my brother? If so, you might as well take your sword and kill me right now. Because we both know how much he would disapprove of what I have done."

"I would NEVER do such a thing!"

"My life is in your hands, Sir Bors. What is it going to be?"

"NO! That is not the way of things! YOU are the High Prince Uther! I AM a Knight in YOUR service! It is YOUR right to ask for MY life! THAT is the way of things!"

"You may not agree with what I have done, Bors, but I shall swear to you ... another blood oath, if I must ... that this shall have NO bearing upon bringing the throne back to my brother. I shall not dishonor him or shame him or embarrass him in any way. Once he is High King, if he chooses to send me into exile to live out my days as a peasant, then so be it. I shall do so quietly and without anyone's knowledge, so as not to bring him public shame or humiliation. But as for getting him onto that throne? I am committed to Ambrosius and to that end, all the way; even at the cost of my life."

Bors crossed his arms and looked at Uther angrily, shaking his head.

Uther grinned. "Well, at least you have ceased yelling at me."

Bors snorted in contempt.

"Though I do not think we were far enough away from the others." Uther said, nodding off to the right.

And sure enough, a dozen of their men were quickly coming their way.

"Captain Bors!" shouted one of the two Knights. "We heard shouting!"

Uther smiled at Bors. "It is your call."

Bors then growled at him like a bear.

"Captain!?" exclaimed the first Knight as the men broke into the clearing with Bors and Uther.

With anger in his eyes, Bors looked at the Knight and said with gritted teeth, "No problem here, Sir Knight. Return to your position."

The Knight was alarmed at Bors' vehemence and looked back and forth between his Lead Knight and the High Prince, feeling the heavy tension in the air. "Are ... are you sure, Captain?"

"RETURN TO YOUR POSITION, SIR KNIGHT!"

"Yes, Captain!" the Knight replied, backing away, appalled. "Right away, Captain!"

And the Knights and soldiers almost tripped over themselves and they quickly disappeared back into the thicket towards their horses.

Bors turned back around and glared at Uther.

"Thank you, Bors."

And Bors growled in reply.

To which Uther smiled back. "So ... shall we join the others? Battlemaster General?"

Bors snorted. "Lead the way."

Uther shrugged and walked past Bors to begin heading back. But just as he passed the giant man, Bors growled at him, once more. "She better have been pretty."

Uther winked at him and continued walking.

Of course, the only reason why Bors wanted Uther to lead the way back, was so that he could kick the High Prince in his royal rear a few more times.

Which he did.

# Chapter 19

It was near dusk when they finally reached the valley floor.

And waiting for them was High Prince Ambrosius Aurelianus, along with an entire assembly of nearly one hundred Knights.

As the riders filed out of the mountain pass, Uther was surprised to see the large standing welcoming congregation. And standing at the front of the assembly was his older brother, whom Uther hadn't seen in five years, since they were both only 15 and 13 years old.

As soon as Uther himself came into view, the entire assembly of Knights instantly dropped to their knees and clapped their fists to their chests in one resounding CLAP - in honor and recognition of the approaching High Prince Uther Pendragon.

Uther smiled as he approached on horseback while Ambrosius approached him on foot. Ambrosius looked like Uther, was the same height, but was a little fuller and had golden blonde hair with blue eyes.

"My, my, look at you, little brother." Ambrosius grinned. "All grown up now and everything."

"And I see you have put on a little weight."

"It is all muscle, little brother. It is all muscle."

"Uh huh. Sure it is."

"Get down off of that horse, you little squirt."

Uther laughed as he dismounted and faced his brother, eye to eye. Ambrosius looked at his grown brother in surprise.

"Little squirt, am I?" Uther teased. "I think I might be taller than you, now."

They both chuckled as they slapped their arms around each in a tight embrace. "It is good to see you, little brother."

"It is good to see you, too, Ambrosius. You look good."

"Okay, maybe I have been hitting the ale a bit, lately." Ambrosius grinned, patting his stomach. "But I had given the men the past week off for rest and ... more pleasurable activities." Ambrosius grinned, nodding towards a large tent off to the side of the nearest encampment.

Uther snorted as he shook his head. "Let me guess. A Concubine tent."

"Of course!" Ambrosius laughed. "A little time off before we begin our final month of preparation. But do not worry, little brother. After we get you a hot meal and catch up, I have my own personal tent of Concubines we can visit afterwards. They have surely been looking forward to meeting you!"

Uther smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, brother, but ... no thanks. After we are done, I think I might be ready to call it a night. It has been a long journey and I am tired."

"I am telling you brother, they have really been looking forward to meeting you. Are you sure you would want to disappoint so many women?"

Uther shook his head at his brother. "Some things have not changed, have they?"

Ambrosius looked at Uther in surprise. "What!? What is this!? You do not approve!? Surely you jest!"

"Thank you for the offer, brother. But ... I have not myself, been without knowing the pleasures of a woman. I am ... content."

"Content, you say!? What kind of talk is this!?" Ambrosius then grinned at Bors who had just joined them. "Did you hear that, Bors!? My little brother says he is content! That does not sound like a son of High King Constans to me! Perhaps you brought back the wrong man! Perhaps you should go back out and look again!"

Bors snorted with a scowl.

Ambrosius raised his eyebrow. Then he looked at Uther. "What is wrong with him?" he asked, referring to Bors.

"Ah, it is nothing. He and I had a little disagreement a while back."

Ambrosius grinned at Bors. "What, did my little brother best you at swords, again?"

Bors snorted once again with an irritable glance at Uther.

"Actually..." Uther replied, smiling at Bors, "...you might say it was Bors who kicked my butt."

And for the first time, Uther finally managed to get one side of Bors' mouth to slightly raise in an almost smile.

"It is nothing." Uther smiled back at Ambrosius. "Nothing of importance we need to speak about. So tell me; is it true what Bors has told me? That you have managed to infiltrate..."

"Shhhh." Ambrosius stopped Uther with his hand. "Not for discussion out here."

"Of course, brother; forgive me."

Ambrosius punched Uther in the arm. "You are supposed to be the smarter one! Perhaps you really are weary from your travel. Very well. A hot meal and a little catch up, and then it is off to your tent you go. You have the large tent next to mine. But do not worry, little brother, I shall send six of my best Concubines to you to keep you warm tonight."

"Please do not, Ambrosius. I would prefer to know a good night of sleep. We have much to prepare for in the coming days ahead, do we not?"

"Of course, little brother. But tomorrow is the week's end and is it our final time of rest and relaxation. Then it is back to business as we begin our final month of readiness and preparations. May I at least get you drunk tonight, little brother?"

Uther smiled and nodded his head. "A good stout ale would be most appreciated."

"Oh, you are going to have more than one if I have to pour it down your throat, myself."

Uther chuckled.

As they began walking towards Ambrosius' personal tent, Ambrosius punched Uther in the arm again.

"Would you stop doing that!?" Uther smiled, rubbing his shoulder.

"I have missed picking on you, little brother. Try and make me stop."

"Maybe tomorrow." Uther grinned.

Ambrosius then winked at Uther. "Oh, did I happen to mention that my Concubines shall be serving our dinner and ale?"

Uther slapped his hand over his eyes and groaned.

*** *** ***

The following morning, Uther woke up as the first rays of sunshine entered his personal tent. But he was surprised to discover he wasn't alone.

For Ambrosius had succeeded in getting him drunk the night before, as the celebratory mood of being reunited with his brother, and also many Knights he had grown up with, had become rather ... celebratory.

Of course, there had been many beautiful serving girls; all of whom who had been dressed rather scantily, and some of them wearing nothing at all. And Ambrosius had repeatedly tried getting Uther to 'partake' of his 'lovelies'.

But Uther somehow found the strength to resist the temptations; oftentimes by rubbing the scar on his left hand.

By late evening, Ambrosius had become much too drunk to pay attention to Uther's resistance to the charms of Concubines - who themselves personally and repeatedly offered great temptation.

But Bors, who kept himself clear-headed and alert throughout the night - found himself surprisingly impressed with Uther's choice to remain faithful to his wife. Even though he completely disagreed with the concept; ESPECIALLY as she was merely a peasant. Rather, it was about Uther's integrity which spoke to Bors, and it spoke volumes about Uther's character.

Even though Bors couldn't agree with his reasons. Because women were used as how women were meant to be used; it was as simple as that. It was how things were and how things had always been. Of course, Bors himself was young and had no wife or any inkling of such ambitions. And he was certainly no stranger to women or their obvious single purpose in life.

But Prince Uther seemed to have a different philosophy about women; something which Bors didn't understand. Nevertheless, Bors respected the fact that Uther stayed true to his most unusual philosophy. And that gave Uther integrity; something which was rarely seen. That night, Bors found himself respecting that thing called 'integrity'. And for the first time since he met him, he found himself beginning to respect Uther.

And so it was, that as Uther woke up the next morning to the first rays of sunlight ... with a severe hangover ... he was surprised to discover he wasn't alone.

Bors was in the tent with him; sleeping in the opposite corner, facing the other way. Snoring.

"Uh ... Bors?"

Bors immediately awoke at Uther's voice. And grunted. Though he still remained beneath his fur blanket facing the other way.

"Uh ... Bors?" Uther asked again, rubbing his pounding temples. "Why are you in my tent?"

"To keep the women away ... my liege."

"What!?"

"Would you rather I had let them in? They were rather ... insistent."

"Are you serious!?"

"About their insistence? Oh, yes. I had to fight them off, myself." Bors chuckled. "It was a terrible job, but someone had to do it. I would not mind doing it, again."

"I do not understand! Why would you do this thing!?"

"It seemed to me, to be ... important to you. You would not have awoken alone this morning, if I had not."

"Really? You watched my back?"

"You were doing well enough on your own; but as the wine and ale flowed and your mind became drunken; eventually, the women would have prevailed. If not at the feast, then during the night."

"I owe you one, Bors."

"I do not know why this is of such importance to you. I do not pretend to understand your thinking. But ... I know it is important to you."

"You are not drunk, are you?"

"No, my liege. It is my place to be your eyes and your ears."

"You are a good and loyal man, Sir Knight. I cannot thank you, enough."

"Do not thank me, yet. We must still get you through the next two days."

"Huh? What?"

"Have you forgotten? Today is the beginning of week's end. Last night was but only a foretaste. The real party begins tonight."

Uther groaned and lay back with his hand over his eyes. "How can my brother live like this?"

"It is true Prince Ambrosius enjoys his few days off; but his days off are few. Most of the time he is hard focused at the task at hand. It is only because he knew you were coming ... and this was our last opportunity to ... rest ... that he is 'resting' so ... fervently."

"I see. So ... the Concubine tents..."

Bors chuckled. "No, those have always been there. He says it helps him sleep better."

"Uh huh. So ... two more days of this?"

"Oh, yes."

"Bors, are you going to be on watch, all of this time?"

"Of course."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"You are High Prince Uther Pendragon. You do not ask favors."

"Fine. I ... give you a command, then."

"Of course, my liege."

"Can you see to it, that somehow ... my wine and my ale are ... watered down?"

"You ... are a strange, strange, man."

"I love my wife, Bors. I do not expect you to understand, but ... I love my wife."

"You ... are a strange, strange, man."

"Thank you, Bors. Uh ... may I ask you another question?"

"You are High Prince. You do not ask permission."

Uther sighed. "Fine. Uh ... Bors? Why do you keep your back towards me?"

"You will not approve."

Uther closed his eyes and shook his head. "You have someone over there, don't you?"

Then Uther heard a pair of giggles coming from Bors' general vicinity.

As Bors didn't need to answer, Uther sighed as he rubbed the scar on his hand. "I think ... I shall go and find something to eat."

"My liege, you shall find the royal mess tent near the royal Concubine tent."

Uther sighed, again. "On second thought, perhaps I shall go running, instead."

Bors chuckled as Uther quickly darted out the tent.

# ~ King ~

# Chapter 20

_Three months later_

Uther did manage to survive the weekend of festivities; thanks to Bors. But while that event had been 'successful', the siege upon the royal compound of Vortigern was not proving to be quite as successful.

It had been two months since the seventy thousand troops of Ambrosius first marched upon the compound. And as it turned out, Vortigern had been expecting them. The high stone walls surrounding the mighty fortress had been covered with pitch and would be set afire whenever Ambrosius' forces tried to scale the walls. There was also supposed to have been a secret underground passage available to them, but that passage had been filled with water. The fortress had been fortified at every known weak point and inside the walls were tall recently built ramparts all around and filled with soldiers and 5,000 archers.

Though Ambrosius outnumbered Vortigern 4 to 1, the fortress was impregnable. Which left Ambrosius with only one remaining option. They would have to wait it out, until the 25,000 people inside starved to death; of which half were soldiers. The rest were innocent residents living within the fortress and surrounding compound; men, women and children.

Uther was very much opposed to the idea and voiced his objections, often. Ambrosius merely shrugged it off, saying it was casualties of war and nothing more.

"You have grown soft, little brother." Ambrosius said casually over dinner. The only other people joining them were Bors the Captain of the Knights, and two of the ground troop leaders.

"This has NOTHING to with being soft, Ambrosius! I have proven myself, time and again on the battlefield with the men. I have the scars to prove it."

"Oh, I do not doubt your courage or your skill or your fortitude, little brother. There is not a man among the ranks who is not impressed with my infamous and ... should I say ... surprisingly aggressive warrior brother. Rightly has our father called you 'Fearsome'; you have surely proven this to be true. But you cannot allow yourself concern for the men within the walls. They have aligned themselves with Vortigern and so they pay the price.

"THEY HAD NO CHOICE!"

Ambrosius took another bite from a large drumstick. "They could have left when they saw our forces approaching."

"The walls were on fire! They could NOT leave!"

"Casualties of war, little brother. The people are insignificant. What matters is the throne. Without the throne, there are no people."

"I disagree, brother. Without the people, there is no throne."

Ambrosius stopped eating for a moment and looked at Uther with more than mild irritation. "I am going to pretend I did not hear that."

Uther sighed. "Listen, Ambrosius; I have been away. I have not been near the action as you have. I do not pretend to know what is best for the throne. I leave that to you. But surely, there must be some other way; some way which would not result in the deaths of so many innocent people."

"Have you not heard a word I said, little brother? People ... are inconsequential. They do not matter. They have never ... mattered. It has ALWAYS been about power. And government. And ruling. Only the strongest survive. Those who are weak? Do not deserve to live. Even nature itself, teaches us these things."

"We are not animals, Ambrosius."

"Are we not?"

"No. We are not."

"That is where you are wrong, little brother. We live for whatever pleases us. Whatever makes us feel good. Whatever our flesh desires? Whatever our flesh craves? That is what our flesh will get. Unless ... we are too weak to obtain it. Only the strong survive, little brother. The rest?" Ambrosius then picked up another drumstick and took a large bite. "The rest can be eaten by wolves, for all I care."

One of the two ground troop leaders chuckled. "There is already talk of the people inside eating each other."

Ambrosius grinned at Uther. "You see, little brother? While we sit here and enjoy this feast, they have become desperate and feed upon one another. They are nothing but animals. They are weak, where we are strong."

"Your own people are in there! Your own Concubines! Your own soldiers!"

"Eh. Concubines are less than animals. Soldiers? They understand the cost of battle and sacrifice. We will honor them."

"THERE ARE CHILDREN IN THERE!"

Ambrosius winked. "Not for much longer. Soon, we shall be able to walk in through the front gate without so much as raising a sword. And we shall sweep them out as the trash that they are. They chose to align with Vortigern; thus they shall die with him."

"There is another way, Ambrosius."

"If it involves the loss of more of my soldiers, I am not interested. I still need a force once I regain the throne."

"The secret tunnel beneath the fortress."

"The one that is flooded with water?"

"Yes. That water has to come from somewhere. Let me find the source of that water. I shall dam up the source and the water shall lower, allowing you passage. You can retake the city in a day and no innocents need perish."

"There are no innocents in war, little brother."

Uther thought to himself for a moment. "If you let me do this, Ambrosius, you shall retake the city with a single and final glorious battle! Do you wish to be known as the one who won the throne whilst eating a feast!? You shall be known as the king who retook his rightful throne in a single day in glory! It shall be as a message from the gods, that none dare cross swords with the great and legendary High King Ambrosius Aurelianus."

Ambrosius looked at Uther and blinked. "Surely you jest."

"What?"

"You seek to turn my mind by appealing to my vanity!?"

"Uh..."

Then Ambrosius grinned. "Well, it worked, little brother. I rather like how you worded that. Remember those words and give them to my scribes. I wish for this day to be remembered, just as you said."

Bors leaned over and whispered to Uther, _"Crafty as a fox."_

Uther smiled and then looked at Ambrosius. "So you will let me go and clear the tunnel?"

"No, of course not. I shall not risk losing my brother to such a menial task. But I shall give you credit for the idea."

"It is too risky to NOT send me, Ambrosius. There are too many things to go wrong. You need someone who is both skilled in battle and smart. You need me."

Ambrosius sighed. "I cannot run the risk of losing you, Uther. You are the only family I have left."

"I shall take three men with me."

"Twenty."

"Seven."

"Ten."

"Done."

Ambrosius shook his head. "You do have courage, little brother; I give you that. Take ten of my best men."

"I will go." Bors offered, before anyone else could say anything.

Ambrosius shook his head. "You are Captain of the Knights and my Battlemaster. I cannot spare you."

"This is your only brother we are talking about." Bors argued.

Ambrosius sighed, again. "It is as you say. Very well, Bors. Watch over my brother with your life."

Bors clapped his fist to his massive chest and bowed his head.

Then Ambrosius gave Uther a stern look. "And you, little brother, do not get yourself killed. For if you do, I shall march into hell and kill you myself with my bare hands."

Uther grinned. "As if you could take me. I have bested you three times out of three times."

"Only because I was drunken."

Uther grinned at Bors. "Why does everyone always resort to that excuse?"

Ambrosius pointed his finger at Uther. "I am serious, little brother. What you seek to do ... you shall be greatly outnumbered if you are discovered. Do not be foolish."

Bors noticed Uther rubbing the scar on his hand. "I have a reason to come back alive, brother. I shall not be foolish."

Ambrosius looked at Bors and then at the two ground troop leaders. "So be it. When my brother is successful and the water has lowered, we shall enter the city without delay."

The leaders all clapped their hands to their chests.

"BUT..." Ambrosius continued, "...the first order of business once you have entered the fortress, shall be to find my brother and see to his safety. Then you shall take the city. Do you understand?"

Once again, the leaders all clapped their hands to their chests.

Ambrosius then looked at Uther. "When do you leave?"

"It is dark. I leave ... now."

"Very well." Ambrosius nodded. "Tomorrow shall be a glorious victory for us all." Ambrosius then rose to his feet and held out his arms towards Uther. "And let all know, that our victory shall be won, because of my fearless and brave brother, High Prince Uther of House Pendragon."

The others rose to their feet and applauded as Uther walked over and embraced his brother.

*** *** ***

A short time later, twelve men left the encampment of Ambrosius under the cover of darkness towards the mighty royal fortress of Vortigern. Uther and Bors, and ten best soldiers. They were on foot, so as not to draw attention to themselves.

"So why did you choose to come with me?" Uther asked Bors, as they were nearing the fortress. "You should be at Ambrosius' side when the troops enter the fortress. That is your place."

"My place is with you."

"Huh? I do not understand."

Bors shrugged as they crouched low beneath a row trees to scout the nearby fortress wall. "For what it is worth, my liege, I happen to agree with your point of view in this matter."

"Really?"

"It is your own fault. Your being 'soft' seems to be having an adverse effect upon me."

"Ah." Uther grinned. "Well, we cannot have that, can we?"

"Indeed, not. I hope we come across many enemy soldiers inside. I have a great need to bash a great many heads."

Uther chuckled. "I am sure you shall get your wish, my friend."

Bors grunted. "I am NOT your friend. You are High Prince. I am but a Knight. Royals do NOT befriend Knights."'

"You are very stuck in your ways, aren't you?"

"And you ... are a strange, strange, man."

Uther patted Bors on the shoulder. "Okay, the way to the tunnel entrance looks clear. Let us go."

"Wait..." said Bors, "...the way to the tunnel? Were we not to look for the source of the water?"

"And ... the source of the water shall be found within the tunnel, itself."

"What!? Surely you are not suggesting..."

"Yes, my large friend. We enter the water of the tunnel and swim to the source."

"But I cannot swim!"

"What!?"

"I thought we were to be looking for the source of the water!"

"Of course! By the entering the water! Are you serious!? You cannot swim!?"

"For what reason would a Knight or soldier need to learn to swim!? We are trained in the art of war!"

Uther looked at the other soldiers. "Can none of you swim!?"

They all shook their heads. And Uther groaned.

"You are a royal, Prince Uther." said Bors. "Only royals are educated in such ... luxuries."

"It is not a luxury! It is a necessity! I cannot believe none of you know how to swim!"

One of the solders spoke up. "My sister has taught her children to swim. She has just a borne a third child and plans to teach him to swim, as well."

"What is your name, solider?"

"Frederick, your Majesty."

Uther smiled. "I am not the king, Frederick. Prince Uther shall do."

"Of course, my Prince. Forgive my ignorance."

"Can you swim, Frederick?"

"No, my Prince. My sister tried to teach me, but ... I did not think it important."

Uther sighed. "Then ... I guess it is just me."

"NO!!" Bors objected. "You shall NOT go alone!"

"I am going to clear that tunnel, Bors. Do not think to stop me."

"I forbid it!"

Uther raised his eyebrow.

"I ... I ... forgive me, my liege. I did not mean to ... order you."

"No. You do not command me. Or have your forgotten your own words?"

"It is my job to watch your back, my liege. I cannot allow..."

Uther looked at Bors, again.

"I mean ... I cannot ... recommend..."

"I appreciate your sentiment, my friend. But I am your Prince and you shall obey my command."

"You asked me to advise you."

"Your advisement is duly noted, Sir Knight. But I cannot let innocent men, women and children die. Now watch my back as I go and enter the tunnel. Do not let any enter in after me. If the enemy discovers what I am doing..."

"The enemy shall be as good dead, my liege."

"Good. Now I shall go and do this thing. And the victory of this day shall belong to my brother."

*** *** ***

The twelve men silently and cautiously approached the hidden tunnel entrance. And sure enough, the tunnel was filled with water. After Uther dove into the cold and chilly depths of the underground waterway, Bors posted the men around the entrance to keep watch, while he remained at the spot where Uther entered and did his best to listen for Uther's progress.

The underground stone tunnel was long; over one hundred feet in length, and the water filled the deep passageway to its rocky ceiling. Fortunately, there were several places along the way where Uther could surface to find pockets of air. By the time he reached the end, Uther could see the firelight of guard torches above the water, from where he remained submerged beneath the water's darkness.

_"I knew this was not going to be easy."_ Uther thought to himself as he considered his options. Finally he decided his only option was to surface quickly and try to take the guards above by surprise. He knew there would likely be several armed men guarding the tunnel's exit, so he drew his sword, and prepared to surface in a surprise attack.

Only the moment his head surfaced the water, Uther was shocked to feel the cold, hard steel of a sword enter his shoulder.

Uther screamed out in pain as two enemy soldiers then grabbed him by both arms and violently yanked him up out of the water and threw him down onto the cold stone floor of the underground chamber.

With an evil grin, the two soldiers raised their two swords to end the life of their intruder, when suddenly! In the blink of an eye, both soldiers lost their heads as another man exploded out of the waterway with his own sword flashing.

Uther looked up at his rescuer in stunned surprise.

"Ambrosius!?"

"Hello, little brother." he grinned. "I decided I could not let you take all the glory. It would just not be right. What can I say? I am a glory hog."

As Ambrosius knelt beside Uther to inspect his injury, Uther chuckled. "I have never been so glad to see a glory hog in all my life."

"You have torn muscles, Uther. Can you move your arm?"

Uther tried moving his right arm and found he was able to bend it. "I think I can still fight. But I lost my sword."

Ambrosius snatched up one the swords from the dead enemy soldiers and handed it him. "Will this do?" he grinned.

"It is not as pretty as mine." Uther grinned back, sitting up and testing the blade. "But I think I can make do."

Ambrosius offered Uther his hand, which Uther gratefully accepted. "Now, little brother, let us find this source of water."

Now standing upon his feet, Uther pointed his sword over to the right where a small canal had been dug, emptying into the tunnel passage. "Might I suggest we follow that, my king?"

"Almost king, little brother; but not yet. Where do you think we are?"

"We are in the lower catacombs. I believe there is a spring a short distance away. The spring must have been rerouted to here."

"Then let us reroute it back. Are you sure you are okay? You look as if you have lost a lot of blood."

"It is royal blood." Uther grinned. "We seem to have an abundance of that."

"Good answer." Ambrosius chuckled, as he punched Uther on the arm.

"OUCH! WRONG ARM!"

"Oops. Sorry."

*** *** ***

Surprisingly, they didn't run into any more guards. When they found the spring, Ambrosius knelt down and began placing rocks and large chunks of stone in the small canal to dam up the flow. "Perhaps the guards ate each other." Ambrosius chuckled.

"Perhaps there is some merit to your 'starvation plan' after all." Uther grinned.

"In truth, brother, I think they have less guards because of my plan." he said, as he placed the last of the rocks in place. "There, that should do it. Hopefully there shall not be a guard shift before the waterway lowers."

"We should remain here, just in case."

"Agreed."

"How long do you think it will take to lower?"

"It needs only lower enough to allow our men passage on foot whilst keeping their head above water. It should not take long." Then Ambrosius began removing his chest armor.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to wrap your shoulder." Ambrosius said, as he then pulled off his shirt and began ripping it into strips. "You are bleeding too much."

"What if guards come!? You are not protected!"

Ambrosius grinned. "I have my brother at my back. That is all the protection that I need."

"Father would be proud of you, Ambrosius. I wish he were here to see this day."

"And Mother would be proud of you, little brother. You were always her favorite."

"You were Father's favorite, so we are even."

Ambrosius sighed.

"Do you miss them?" Uther asked.

"Every day." Ambrosius replied. "Vortigern shall pay for what he has done."

"Are you sure he is here?"

"I am sure. I still receive signals from my spies within. He is here."

"Do not take him without my being present; I want to be there."

"Oh, you can count on it, little brother. I would have him look upon both of our faces as he dies."

"May it be a slow and painful death."

*** *** ***

It was less than an hour when the two brothers began to hear splashing in the waterway.

"The water does not look low enough." noted Uther.

"No doubt the tallest are coming first." Ambrosius smiled.

Uther chuckled. "Then I guess we know who shall be first."

And sure enough, moments later, Bors burst through the last leg of the waterway, followed by an endless long line of Knights and soldiers behind him. Bors instantly halted when he saw Ambrosius and Uther sitting upon the floor. He saw Ambrosius was shirtless and Uther was covered in blood.

"You are injured." Bors said, matter-of-factly.

Uther grinned at him. "And you, have a leech upon your face."

"WHAT!?"

Bors slapped at his face and ripped off the bloody parasite.

Both Uther and Ambrosius began to laugh as Bors and several Knights began to panic and started checking themselves for leeches.

Once Bors was satisfied there were no more, he looked at back at Ambrosius. "It is not funny. Did you have leeches?"

Ambrosius shrugged. "Apparently they care not for royal blood. You seem to be more to their liking."

Bors growled as he climbed out of the waterway and stood dripping on the chamber's stone floor.

"You missed one." Uther grinned, pointing at his leg.

"WHAT!?"

Ambrosius and Uther both laughed again, as Bors discovered there were no leeches on his leg.

"Not ... funny." he growled, again. "Now you know why I never learned to swim."

"That shall be my first decree." Ambrosius chuckled. "All Knights must learn to swim."

Bors sneered at him.

"Frederick!" Uther laughed, as Frederick now climbed out the water. "Do you think your sister would be willing to teach our large leech-fearing Knight how to swim?"

"She still suckles her third child." Frederick replied. "Perhaps after the child is weaned."

Bors then spat upon the floor. "I shall NOT learn to swim from a ... a ... a woman!"

Ambrosius and Uther both burst out into laughter as they rose to their feet.

"Come." Ambrosius said with a smile. "Let us begin taking this fortress."

"Our first stop..." said Uther, "...is to open the front gate and let in our troops. How many are behind you, Sir Knight?"

"Seventy men accompany me." Bors replied.

"More than enough." Ambrosius grinned. "Bors? Stay to the right of my brother; it is his right shoulder which is injured."

Bors clapped his fist to his chest and bowed.

Uther then winked at Bors "Oh, and Bors? Try not to rust before we get to the gate."

Bors growled at him, once more.

*** *** ***

The moment they exited the catacombs they were met with a full company of enemy soldiers. The battle was fierce and intense, but the only casualties were the enemy. The seventy Knights and soldiers valiantly battled their way towards the main gate; but by the time they reached the gate, more and more enemy soldiers began pouring in from all directions. The small group of seventy men found themselves outnumbered a hundred to one. But they stayed together as a group, knowing they only had to make it a couple of hundred yards - and it was only two hundred yards which separated them from victory, as the rest of Ambrosius' seventy thousand troops were just outside the fortress walls.

But Ambrosius had one other trick up his sleeve, as the thousands of infiltrated soldier from within were not supposed to tip their hand until they received the signal.

And finally the signal was given. Suddenly! From all across the inner courtyards of the fortress and atop the fortress walls and in every nook and cranny of the royal compound, Vortigern's own troops began fighting each other.

It was all that was needed. As the seventy men quickly rushed the gate, they were quickly aided by hundreds more, loyal to Ambrosius. And in a matter of moments, the barricade was torn down and the drawbridge was lowered, allowing the massive influx of Ambrosius' army to begin pouring into the fortress.

"How are you doing, little brother?" Ambrosius grinned as they found themselves surrounded by friendly forces.

"I am doing fine, Ambrosius." Uther nodded. "I am ready to go and find Vortigern."

"As am I. According to my signalers, he hides within the castle keep."

"The keep!? That is for the king's women and children!"

"Can it not be more appropriate? Vortigern is a coward at heart. It is time to rid our lands of that traitorous bastard once and for all."

"Lead the way, oh great leader."

Ambrosius grinned and punched Uther in the arm.

"OUCH! WRONG ARM!"

"I know." Ambrosius chuckled as he nodded at Bors. Bors then turned and ordered the same seventy men to join them, as they turned to enter the fortress in order to head up to the upper keep, high overhead.

*** *** ***

Surprisingly, they met with little resistance; for the bulk of the king's guard were outside getting slaughtered in the battle. What resistance they met was easily dispatched quickly, as most of the guards appeared to be greatly weakened after being starved for the last two months.

Their greatest fighting took place at the top of the long crisscrossing stairway leading up to the keep. But the castle guards were no match for Bors and his powerful Knights and the skilled and well-fed soldiers.

Both Ambrosius and Uther were pumped with adrenaline as they took out the last of the guards, leaving behind a bloody trail of bodies. They were both breathing hard; not from exhaustion but from exhilaration, as they both approached the heavy and massive iron door of the castle keep.

Uther looked at Ambrosius. "Now what? We need a battering ram."

Ambrosius winked at Uther and pulled out a key from his pocket. "Always be prepared, little brother. Never leave home without it."

Uther laughed as Ambrosius placed the large iron key into the massive iron door and began to turn the key.

Then Ambrosius frowned.

"What is it?" Uther asked.

Ambrosius began stroking his chin. "Apparently, he has changed the lock."

Uther gave him a smirk. "What was that you were saying about always being prepared?"

Ambrosius punched him in the arm.

"OUCH! Would you stop doing that!? You are making it bleed, again!"

"Poor little baby. Do you have a boo-boo?"

"Very funny, Ambrosius. Trust me, I'm going to repay you, just you wait and see."

Then they began looking around.

"I guess you were right, little brother. We need a battering..."

Suddenly! Bors exploded into the massive iron door with his right shoulder. And the two brothers stood in amazement as they watched the massive door slowly begin to tip over inwards, until it crashed to the stone floor in a mighty cloud of dust.

"...ram." Ambrosius finished, in stunned surprise.

"I think ... we should get a bigger door." Uther noted.

"Uh huh." Ambrosius nodded, looking at Bors.

Bors simply shrugged and grinned.

Uther raised up his sword and looked at Ambrosius. "Shall we go in together?"

Ambrosius raised his sword and nodded. 'Let's end this."

And together, the two brothers stepped into the Castle Keep; the safest and most protective vault of the entire fortress.

In the darkness, cowering by himself in the corner upon his knees and trembling in fear, was none other than Vortigern the betrayer and usurper of the throne. The stench of urine and excrement was overpowering.

Holding his nose, Ambrosius looked at Uther. "You were right, little brother. There are only women are in here." Then Ambrosius faced Bors. "Take him. Bring him to the throne room. We shall deal with him there, in view of all."

Bors clapped his fist to his chest and ordered two of his soldiers to seize Vortigern.

Uther looked at Bors in surprise.

Bors shrugged. "Do you smell this room? I do not want to touch him."

Uther smiled and then ordered the other Knights to go outside and herald that Vortigern had fallen and to cease fighting. They clapped their fists to their chests and turned to leave when Ambrosius stopped them.

"Wait ... belay that order."

"Why!?" Uther objected. "We are victorious! There is no reason for more to die! Let them carry out my order."

Ambrosius shook his head at him. "You are too soft, brother. We must deal with all who aligned themselves with this coward. They must die."

"They were only following orders! You are the new High King. They will follow your orders, now."

"I disagree, brother. I shall not be shown to be weak."

"Fine. But only the guards and troops. At least let their wives and families live; they are innocents."

"If I kill their fathers, the sons of the guards and troops may one day rise up against me. I cannot afford that."

"Then do not kill their fathers. Let them live. If you do this, no one would have any reason to rise up against you."

"We are not in agreement, brother."

"It was my idea to clear the waterway. I did it, so that lives might be saved. Let this be my reward."

Ambrosius thought to himself for a long time, while the soldiers rustled Vortigern out of the keep. He did manage to get in one powerful and brutal kick to Vortigern's groin, however, before they left, resulting in Vortigern howling in pain. After they were gone, Ambrosius turned and looked at Uther. "No, brother. This shall not be your reward."

"Ambrosius, please..."

"You deserve greater reward than this, Uther. I shall do this for you ... because you are my brother. That is reason enough for me."

Uther sighed in relief. "Thank you, Ambrosius."

Ambrosius nodded. "Come. We have one last thing to do. Let us go see to Vortigern's end."

Uther groaned when he realized he had stepped in something. "Uh ... mind if I clean up, first? Besides, you are not even wearing a shirt!"

Ambrosius chuckled and shook his head. "You are such a Momma's boy. Fine. It is probably important to look our best when we face Vortigern." Then he turned towards Bors. "Send to the camp to bring my brother and I a new change of clothes. Our royal colors would be most appropriate."

Bors nodded. "Gold and black I know, for you, sire. For the Golden Age you shall bestow upon us. As for Prince Uther?"

Ambrosius gestured to Uther.

"The colors of House Pendragon..." Uther answered, "...are red and black; the colors of a dragon."

Bors clapped his fist to chest and bowed. "I shall see to this, personally, sire. I shall return with haste."

"Thank you, Bors." Uther replied.

After Bors left, Ambrosius frowned at Uther.

"What?"

"You do not say 'Thank you', little brother, to a Knight. They do as you command."

Uther grinned, sheepishly. "Sorry."

Ambrosius punched him in the shoulder.

"OUCH!!!"

# Chapter 21

There was a great gathering in the main courtyard, just outside the royal throne room. It was a mixture of all sorts of classes and castes, for it was first come basis only. Knights and soldiers and peasants and farmers and nobles and merchants and anyone else who was close enough to arrive by dawn's light. For that was when Ambrosius had decided to mete out Vortigern's public punishment; at the dawn of the new day.

In seven days there was to be the official crowning of the new High King of the realm; to which nobles and kings from all around were 'requested' to attend. In the meantime, there was a lot of cleaning up to do; primarily removing dead bodies and repairing what damage had been done to the fortress, to make the High King's castle somewhat more presentable for the crowning ceremony. Many had advised Ambrosius to wait three months to give them more time to prepare for the ceremony. But Ambrosius was more anxious to get on to the business of ruling a nation, than he was in 'prettying up' the fortress. Thus seven days was the longest amount of time he was willing to forego.

But the very first order of business was to deal with the traitor and usurper, Vortigern; which Ambrosius planned to do at first light. Thus there were all sorts and castes and mixtures of people outside, awaiting the outcome.

They were also waiting to see Vortigern brought forth in chains, which Ambrosius had arranged to have him pass through the midst of the crowd of people. Ambrosius had made sure there were plenty of barrels of tomatoes and other fine vegetables available; should the people feel so inclined to 'offer' to the prisoner.

Inside the throne room were the same seventy men who had accompanied Ambrosius and Uther on their secret mission and who had managed to open the gates. Part of the reason was to honor the seventy men; the other part was because Ambrosius wanted Vortigern to see that he was brought down by a mere seventy men.

Standing in front of the assembly were the two High Princes; with Ambrosius in the center and Uther standing beside him on his right. Also standing with them were Bors and the two ground troop leaders.

And two Concubines.

For whatever reason, Ambrosius thought it might be fun and fitting to have two of Vortigern's own personal Concubines standing before him; from whom they had learned many of Vortigern's secrets. Ambrosius intended to taunt Vortigern, demonstrating that Vortigern never really had anyone loyal to him during his entire five year reign. Ambrosius' primary objective that day was humiliation.

Uther was wearing the colors of House Pendragon, red and black. Ambrosius was wearing the colors of House Aurelianus, gold and black. And as the first rays of sunlight streamed in through the upper windows of the throne room and reflected off of the gold of his robes and shone upon his golden blond hair, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that a new Golden Age was about to dawn upon the kingdom; an age of hope and wealth and prosperity and power.

Finally, Ambrosius gave the command to bring forth the prisoner.

It took a while for him to arrive at the throne room, after being slowly led in chains through the crowd and being pelted by tomatoes and vegetables and ... actually ... many other interesting things of creative and somewhat revolting ingenuity. By the time Vortigern arrived at the doors of the throne room and they got their first view of him, both Ambrosius and Uther began having second thoughts about allowing him inside. Ambrosius leaned over and whispered to Uther. "I actually feel sorry for whoever has to clean up in here afterwards."

Uther grinned and whispered back, "I feel sorry for the two guards who brought him. They look almost as bad as Vortigern."

Ambrosius laughed, and then put his arms around the two Concubines, one with blonde hair and one dark-haired, as they both kissed him on the cheek. "Remember him, girls?"

The Concubine with blonde hair ran her hand across his lips. "Our thoughts were always and only for you, m'Lord."

"You both did well." Ambrosius smiled. "All of you did. And tonight, I shall come in to you and reward you all."

The Concubine who was dark-haired purred in his ear. "We shall await your arrival with anticipation, m'Lord."

Ambrosius grinned as he nodded permission for Vortigern to be brought forth.

Though Vortigern was ragged and covered in filth, somehow he managed to discover some backbone. Instead of cowering, he kept his head held high as he was led in chains through the booing and spitting and name-calling crowd of seventy warriors.

Finally, Vortigern stood before the two royal sons he had betrayed five years earlier by murdering their parents and seizing their throne. Vortigern looked at his two personal Concubines on either side of Ambrosius who had betrayed him. Then he looked at the hate-filled eyes of Uther, who was using every measure of control not to rush over and take off Vortigern's head. Then Vortigern looked at Ambrosius, who was smiling at him in victory.

Then he looked back at the two Concubines.

And nodded.

Suddenly! A painful gasp burst forth from Ambrosius' lips, as the Concubine with blonde hair plunged a poisoned dagger into his chest.

By the time Uther spun his head around, it was too late.

The blonde Concubine then rammed the dagger even further into his heart and twisted it. _"This is for Vortigern."_ she whispered in his ear. _"I await your arrival with anticipation, m'Lord. In Hell."_

In an blinding flash, Bors whirled around with his sword and instantly severed her head, while the other dark-haired Concubine looked on in horror; for she had not been a part of it.

But it didn't matter. For Uther spun around and took her head off, next.

Bors and Uther both then rushed Vortigern and reached him almost simultaneously; but Uther was faster. And while Vortigern was cackling with delight, his own head left his body - flying high into the air - still with a wide gleeful grin on his face.

It all happened very fast. By the time Uther and Bors both spun around and raced back towards Ambrosius, he was still standing, though his legs had begun to give out from under him.

Uther caught him as he fell, just as the light began fading from his brother's eyes. "Ambrosius, no!!" Uther pleaded.

But the deadly poison was actually killing him faster than the knife in his heart; and his heart finally stopped.

"No, Ambrosius! Do not leave me!"

Uther was still standing, holding his dying brother in his arms, but Ambrosius had but a few moments left.

"Please, brother! Do not leave me alone!"

Ambrosius only managed to struggle out a few words.

_"Red and black are the colors now, little brother."_

"No, Ambrosius! Please!"

_"Be strong, Uther. And trust ... no one."_

"AMBROSIUS!!!"

But Ambrosius couldn't hear. For Ambrosius was dead.

*** *** ***

As Uther collapsed to his knees weeping with his brother in his arms, the entire assembly remained still in stunned shock.

Even Bors couldn't believe what had just happened. His instantaneous reaction as a warrior was the only reason he had reacted; for his mind was so numbed with horror at the loss of High Prince Ambrosius of House Aurelianus, he wasn't able to think straight.

Then ... after a long period of stunned silence, the entire throne room exploded with shrieks and screams as all seventy warriors began to rush their great and beloved fallen leader as a mighty throng.

Suddenly, Uther leaped to his feet with his sword drawn threateningly, daring anyone to approach.

Finally Bors shook his head to clear himself and shouted "STAY BACK!!!"

And everyone instantly stopped in their tracks.

"WHERE ARE THEY!!?" Uther shouted, as his face began turning red in rage.

"WHERE ARE WHO!?" Bors shouted back.

"THOSE WHORES!!? WHERE ARE THEY!!?"

Bors also hadn't been prepared for that response. He began shaking his head. "I ... I ... I ..."

"KILL THEM!!!" Uther raged. "FIND THEM AND KILL THEM ALL!!!"

"But..."

Then Uther spun around and began hacking apart the dead bodies of the two Concubines; one of whom had been innocent. He continued hacking and hacking and hacking and hacking ... "KILL THEM ALL!!!" he shrieked.

Bors couldn't believe what he was hearing; for he suspected that most, if not all of the Concubines were in fact, innocent. But ... the new High King had just given him an order. And obey orders is what Knights do. Bors turned his great head towards his seventy men and made a slicing motion across his neck. And immediately all seventy men clapped their fists to their chests and took off running in search of the Royal Concubines.

Within minutes, the screaming started, echoing throughout the empty halls of the castle fortress. And soon, 120 women had been slaughtered at the hands of the Knights.

As Bors watched Uther kneel beside his brother's body weeping, it would be the screams of the women that would echo in Bors' mind for the rest of his life.

# Chapter 22

_Seven days later_

"ALL HAIL HIGH KING UTHER PENDRAGON!!!"

Upon the day that was to have been among the brightest days of his life, Uther's coronation was among his darkest of days. The weather was as dark and stormy as his mood. In fact, Uther's mood had been dark and stormy the entire week. He had only slept once in the past seven days, and only because he had become drunk. His eyes were darkened and bloodshot with bags underneath, and no one dared approach him unless they were asked. Even Bors knew enough to keep his distance.

All week long, Uther had kept completely to himself. Besides this day of coronation, the only other time he had been with others was during the middle of the week at his brother's funeral. The body of Ambrosius Aurelianus had been burned atop a massive funeral pyre, seven stories high; high enough for all seventy thousand troops to see, as well as all of the people who had come out to honor the great hero who had freed the realm from Vortigern's cruel and unpleasant reign. Everyone was there from near and far; including kings and nobles from nearby kingdoms. Uther had been the one to personally light the torch and set the pyre aflame.

Other than that day, Uther had kept to himself, alone and isolated in his old room which he once had as a child. He refused to visit Ambrosius' old room nor did he have any intention of staying in the former room of his parents, the previous ruling High King and Queen. Bors and a handful of others made a few attempts to speak to him, but their knock on his door was always answered with a crash of pottery or furniture being flung against the door.

Finally, they gave up.

Nor did Uther eat during that entire week. Though food was constantly being left at his door, he never touched it.

No one knew if Uther had intended to go forward with the coronation or not. But since he refused to speak to anyone, everyone was afraid to make any kind of decision, for such was not theirs to make. Thus ... they let the matter lie as it was ... and didn't dare change a thing. The scheduled coronation remained in place ... and whether or not Uther would actually show up was anyone's guess.

It was a deep and intense time of mourning for Uther; which was why he wished to be alone. In truth, Uther never had any intention of 'shirking his responsibility'. He knew he was to be the new High King - even though he loathed the very idea. He even tried saying the words out loud in his room: "King Uther". But bile always came to his mouth and he could never manage to get the words out. But he would never ... ever ... disgrace his parents, or his brother, by not accepting the responsibility that had been thrust unwanted upon his shoulders.

Uther would be the new High King. Even though he would despise every minute of it. He would make whatever royal decisions needed to be made; even though he would care nothing for the decisions. And he would rule over the people; even though he cared nothing for ruling over them.

It was to everyone's great surprise, when at the break of dawn on the morning of his coronation, that Uther finally stepped out of his room, fully dressed in the now-official royal colors of the kingdom, red and black. He wore the kingly robes, not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice; for such was his duty.

During the past week, there was only one other place where his mind would sometimes wander off to. And that was to a distant peasant village of refugees, where his wife and son awaited his return. There was no doubt he would return for them. But he didn't know when. Not because he didn't desperately wish to see them again and to hold his wife once more in his arms and to once more hold his young son. But Uther didn't know ... or understand ... what kind of world he would be bringing them back to. He didn't trust that the fortress was safe, for there could be hidden assassins around every corner.

_Trust no one._

His own father and mother had been killed by a trusted advisor name Vortigern. And if even a lowly Concubine could murder the Crown Prince - his own brother - standing right beside him - how could he ever consider bringing Regan and Arthur into the castle?

And missing them greatly, added yet another terrible and heavy weight upon his grieving heart.

_Trust no one._

But the day of his coronation had come. And though Uther had no wish or desire to accept the crown, he knew his duty. If he had been given a preference, he had almost been hoping that his brother would have actually banished him upon finding out about Regan and his child. For Uther had truly come to love the peace and simplicity of living in the peasant village. And he would have been happy and content to have remained there as Pelleas; the 'Fisher King'; for all the days of his life.

Instead, this day he was to be crowned as the High King of the entire nation; complete with all of its troubles and burdens and never-ending responsibilities that he knew went along with it.

And Uther was loathing this dark day of days.

He had insisted the coronation to be as brief as possible. He even 'threatened' the Master Scribe with his head to keep it short; though he didn't really mean it.

But the scribe didn't know that.

And so ... the Master Scribe heralded the one and only, single announcement as he placed the Crown of the High King upon Uther's head, upon an outdoor stage hastily erected during the past week. "ALL HAIL HIGH KING UTHER PENDRAGON!!!"

The entire assembly of over 100,000 people exploded into cheering.

Uther sat upon his outdoor throne chair with his fists clenched and a dark scowl upon his face.

No one nearby dared speak to him directly.

Finally ... while the crowd continued cheering, High King Uther Pendragon rose to his feet. And when he did so, the entire assembly began to grow quiet, to hear their new High King's first words.

Uther looked out over the large assembly, scanning the massive gathering from end to end.

Then ... he turned around.

And walked away.

*** *** ***

People never turned out in large numbers for an assembly again, after that. Not for a very long time.

# ~ Descent ~

# Chapter 23

_Two months later_

"Your Majesty, this really is of the utmost importance."

"Who are you, again?"

"I am your Chief Advisor."

"No, I mean, what is your name?"

"My ... name, your Majesty?"

"Did your mother not consider you worthy of a name?"

"Of course, your Majesty! My name is ... uh ... Alfred."

Bors was standing near Uther, as he always did while audience was in session; each and every day for ten whole minutes. It was all Uther could stomach of having to listen to other people's problems.

"Okay, Alfred." Uther replied. "So you are my Chief Advisor. I did not even know until last week that I had ... advisors."

"As passed down from your predecessor, Your Majesty. And from your father before him. And your father before him."

"So I understand. This is the first time I have heard from my ... advisors. Very well, Alfred. Advise me."

Alfred gulped. "Uh ... your Majesty ... it is very important..."

Uther arched his eyebrow. "Do you now seek to dictate to me my priorities?"

"NO SIRE! NEVER!"

"Good. Please. Continue advising me, Alfred."

_GULP._ "Uh ... your Majesty ... it should be ... I mean ... you may wish to consider ... the possibility of the importance..."

"Hurry up, Alfred. Your time is nearly up and my patience grows thin."

"Of course, your Majesty! Uh ... what you may wish to consider as being important ... is ... uh ... well ... your Majesty, if something were to happen ... to you, that is ... AND GOD FORBID!"

Uther raised his eyebrow.

As did Bors.

"...I only mean to say, your Majesty ... you are the last of the line! You should have an heir! Your first order of priority should be taking a legal wife! Uh ... that is ... if you ... think that is important ... that is ... because I am not suggesting..."

Uther looked at Alfred with a calm gaze.

A deadly calm.

Alfred gulped again.

Bors began looking around for someone to carry Alfred's body away.

"Alfred?" Uther replied, coldly. "Did I hear you right? Did my Chief Advisor ... just advise me ... that I need to take a wife?"

_GULP!_ Alfred was no longer capable of answering.

Uther slowly rose to his feet, drawing his sword.

Alfred's eyes widened in terror.

"Alfred?" Uther said in his calm and deadly voice. "I am going to give you two options."

Alfred nodded his head enthusiastically.

"You may keep your job ... or ... you may keep your head. Which shall it be?"

The colors instantly drained from Alfred's face.

"Hurry up, Alfred. I am about to withdraw your second option."

"M-m-m-m-m-m-y head, Sire!" Alfred finally managed to gasp.

Uther nodded. "Very well, so be it. You may keep your head. Goodbye, Alfred."

Alfred nodded his head enthusiastically, while Uther nodded at the guard standing beside Alfred. The guard then escorted Alfred out of the throne room to enjoy his new life as a 'former' Chief Advisor.

Uther then turned to Bors and pointed a finger at him. "I have no advisors. Do you understand?"

Bors clapped his fist to his chest and nodded.

"I am done for today." And Uther turned to leave. Then ... he paused for a moment ... and then turned back around to Bors. "You never argue with me, anymore."

Bors shrugged.

"Do you not approve of how I am handling things?"

"I have never said either way."

"Exactly. You no longer offer your opinion about anything."

Bors shrugged, again.

"You used to think I was too soft."

"Are you asking for my honest opinion?"

"I am."

"I liked you better, before."

Uther looked at Bors for a long time.

Then, Uther turned and began walking away. "Well, that makes two of us." He finally said, before he disappeared through the rear door.

# Chapter 24

The following day, Uther and Bors were returning to the castle on foot from his weekly inspection of the Knight's Barracks.

"I have to tell you something, Bors. But it terrifies me to have to say this."

Bors nodded without reply.

"I do not trust anyone, Bors."

"I see."

"And I mean ... anyone; not even the Knights."

Bors sighed. "I heard Ambrosius speak his last words to you. I understand where this comes from."

Uther stopped abruptly, and then turned and faced Bors. "Except ... you."

Bors looked at Uther in surprise.

"You are the only one I trust, Bors. I do not know of anyone else. I have not spent time with anyone else to know them."

"I see."

Uther turned and began walking again. "My wife once asked me if I had the gift of seeing hearts. At that time, I told her I thought such a gift would be a curse. Now I am beginning to think it would not be such a curse. For I now find myself suspicious of all men's hearts. I wish I could find a few ... even but one or two more ... whom I could trust."

"Even so." said Bors. "I still think such a gift would be a curse. To be suspicious is one thing. To know ... would be worse."

Uther sighed. "Perhaps you are right, Bors. Perhaps it is better this way."

"I would never want for such a gift. To truly see the blackness which is in all men's souls? No. Truly that would be a curse above all curses. Such a man would know more aloneness that any other man in all the world. Better to only be suspicious, than to know for certain."

"Bors?"

"Yes, my liege?"

"I am promoting you to Master Knight and General Commander of the Armed Forces, effective immediately."

"WHAT!?" Now it was Bors' turn to stop in place.

Uther stopped and turned to face him. "You are my Second, Bors. If anything happens to me, you are the man."

"I ... I do not wish to be the man!"

"Welcome to the club." Uther sighed.

"But..."

"Who else, Bors? Besides you, who else can I trust? I am serious. If I died tomorrow, who else could I entrust this entire kingdom to?"

"I ... I ... I do not know."

"Exactly. There is no one else. Effective immediately, you are hereby Master Knight and General Commander of the Armed Forces."

"I must object. I would make no better a king than...". But Bors suddenly stopped himself.

Uther raised his eyebrow.

"Err, what I meant to say was..."

"Do not bother, Bors. I know very well what you meant. I am the first to admit I make for a terrible king; that is no secret."

"May I speak freely?"

"You do not even need to ask, Bors."

"Very well. There was a time ... and it was not so long ago, when I actually thought you might make a halfway decent king."

"Was ... there a hidden compliment in there, somewhere?"

"There was a time ... when I actually respected you; even though I did not always agree with you."

"Ah. So no compliment, then."

"Is that man still in there, Uther Pendragon?"

Uther shrugged. "Was he ever?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Uther turned and began walking, again. "The Chief Advisor was right. There needs to be someone in place, should something ever happen to me. That someone is you. Can you ... tell Alfred..."

"...that he has his old job back? As well as his head? Of course."

"Have our friend Alfred and the scribes draw up the necessary documents to make you my Second and I shall approve them. Congratulations on your promotion, Bors."

Bors sighed again. "Why do I get the feeling it is not a promotion?"

Welcome to the club, Bors. Welcome to the club."

*** *** ***

Just as they turned the last corner into the front castle courtyard, they were surprised to see a disturbance going on at the front door. Two guards were arguing with an old peasant woman and were threatening to haul her off to prison.

"Great." Uther sighed as he stopped. "Just what I needed." Then he turned around and started to walk back the way they had come. "I do not want to deal with this, right now."

Suddenly, the old peasant woman shrieked out with a loud voice. "PELLEAS!?"

# Chapter 25

Uther spun around in shock.

"CEOLA!?" he gasped.

And the old woman instantly burst into tears as she dropped to her knees.

Uther sprinted across courtyard and fast as he could and slid to his knees beside her. "CEOLA!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!? WHERE IS REGAN!?"

Then Ceola's entire body began to be racked by sobbing.

"OH, GOD IN HEAVEN! NO!!!"

It took her a moment, but Ceola finally raised her head and looked at Uther with tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Pelleas ... they took her!"

"WHAT!? WHO TOOK HER!? WHEN!?"

"Gorlois."

And Uther's heart dropped to the deepest pit of his soul.

By this time, Bors had finally caught up and demanded of the guards "Who is this woman!?"

The two guards shook their heads at the weeping woman and pointed at Uther. Uther's face had just turned white and he looked like he was about to faint, when Bors grabbed hold of him to steady him.

"When?" Uther finally managed to rasp.

"Eight weeks ago." Ceola wept.

Uther looked at Bors with cold fury. "I am going to Cornwall. Now. Prepare my horse."

"I am going with you."

"Fine, but do not slow me down. I shall not stop."

"It is a fortnight to Cornwall! You shall kill your horse!"

"I DO NOT CARE!! DO IT!!"

"IF YOUR HORSE IS DEAD, YOU SHALL NEVER MAKE IT TO CORNWALL!!!"

Uther instantly reached out and grabbed Bors by his front chestpiece. "GET ... ME ... TO ... CORNWALL!!! NOW!!!!"

"We shall rest, when the horses need to rest!"

"THEN I SHALL RUN ON FOOT!!!"

Bors looked at the old woman. "This ... Regan you spoke of. This is his wife?"

Ceola nodded.

Bors looked at Uther. "Duke Gorlois of Cornwall?"

"...is a dead man!" Uther spat.

"We are not enough. We shall take a centuria."

"EIGHTY MEN WILL SLOW ME DOWN!"

"Sire, we are not enough against Duke Gorlois."

"PLEASE, BORS!!!" Uther pleaded, tearfully. "HELP ME!!!"

Bors saw a distant, fearful and wild look in Uther's eyes; and he didn't like what he was seeing. It was a mixture of both terror and a slight hint of madness.

"HELP ME!!!!"

Bors reached down his hand to help Uther to his feet.

"WAIT!!!" Ceola said, attempting to regain control of herself. "THERE IS MORE!!"

"WHAT!!?" Uther screeched. "WHAT MORE!!? TELL ME!!!"

Ceola pulled back her heavy traveling cloak and revealed what she had been secretly concealing. For strapped snugly around Ceola's waist and chest was a sleeping 15 month old baby.

Uther stumbled when he saw who it was and Bors had to catch him from falling. Uther was clearly losing control of himself, and it was happening rapidly. This new shock seemed to hit him all the harder. "My ... son!?" Uther exclaimed.

Ceola tearfully nodded. "Regan gave him to me so that I might run and hide him, as she gave herself over to Gorlois. Gorlois ... took her. And ... killed all the rest."

"WHAT!?" Uther exclaimed. "ALGER!?"

Just then Ceola began to gasp as a terrible tight pain gripped her heart.

"CEOLA!!!"

"Take him." she whispered, offering the baby to Uther. "I have brought you your son. I can bear it no longer."

"CEOLA!!!" Uther screamed, as he took his baby son from her.

But Ceola's heart had already begun giving out. It was a miracle that she had made it that far all on her own, all that way from the village. She had given everything that she had to bring the child Arthur safely to his father, and she simply had no more left to give.

"Pelleas..." she whispered as the light began fading from her eyes.

"WHAT!?"

"Regan ... with child..."

"WHAT!?"

And then Ceola fell over, dead.

Uther stared in horror at the son he was holding in his arms. His son - who needed him. But at the same time - he had to go and try to save Regan. Even though he knew he was probably already too late. But he couldn't do both.

So ... he did the only thing he could think of doing.

Uther spun around and held the baby out to Bors.

Bors eyes widened in shock.

"By your life, Bors." Uther ordered.

It was the most honor-bound and sacred thing a king could ever command of a Knight. A command which no Knight could refuse.

With his hands trembling, Bors had no choice but to reach out and accept the tiny child into his giant hands.

Uther then jumped up to his feet and pointed at Bors. "My son." Then he pointed to himself. "My wife." And Uther took off sprinting towards the horse stables.

*** *** ***

In stunned disbelief, Bors found himself standing at the front castle steps ... with two equally stunned guards ... a dead woman lying on the ground ... and a tiny High Prince in his hands.

Ordinarily a man quick to think and quick to action, Bors was, for several long moments, unable to process everything.

It wasn't until he saw Uther come tearing around the horse stables and galloping away at full speed when his mind finally returned to him. Bors spun around and began barking orders at the two guards.

Within ten minutes, Bors had all of the leaders of all of the ground troops standing before him, including most of the Knights.

His first announcement was that Uther had only recently promoted him to Master Knight and General Commander of all of the Armed Forces. Bors was now, in effect, the number two man in the kingdom.

No one actually seemed surprised at the announcement, nor did anyone dispute it; for all knew very well of how highly favored Bors was in Uther's sight.

His next announcement, however, was more of a shocker.

The 'wife' of their High King ... whom no one had even known about ... had just recently been captured by the Duke of Cornwall.

Which was tantamount to an act of war.

Bors then gave them a very brief speech.

"On the night before we reclaimed the throne from Vortigern, our High Prince Ambrosius told us, _'What matters is the throne. Without the throne, there are no people.'_ Now ... whether you believe that or not, is irrelevant. What is relevant, is that the throne ... our new High King Uther Pendragon ... has just left. And the throne ... has single-handedly declared war upon Duke Gorlois of Cornwall. Why has he done this thing? Our High King is greatly distraught over the capture of his wife. You have not known of her; but I have. For I now hold in my hands ... the firstborn son of our High King. This child in my hands is High Prince Arthur Pendragon. Remember his name; one and all. For someday you shall know this name very well. Our High King now goes to reclaim the mother of our High Prince. Alone. Are we going to be shamed into allowing our High King Uther fight for us!? WHAT SAY YOU ALL!?"

And in one loud and resounding voice, all of the Knights and all of the leaders began shouting and chanting, "DEATH TO GORLOIS!!! DEATH TO GORLOIS!!! DEATH TO GORLOIS!!!"

"SO BE IT! WE RIDE THIS DAY!!!"

And so it was that Bors gave his very first order as Commander General of all of the Armed Forces and Uther's Second in Command. They were going to war.

With no time to waste - as Uther had already managed a head start, Bors planned and formed three waves of attack. The first wave was twenty of their fastest riders; whose primary objective was to try and catch up to Uther. The second wave would consist of the same seventy men who had joined Bors and Uther and Ambrosius in re-capturing the fortress from Vortigern. Their job was to get to Cornwall as quickly as possible; hopefully not too far behind the first wave of twenty riders. The third and final wave ... was the entire Armed Forces with all of their military might; over 120,000 troops in all. For as Bors had pointed out earlier, Uther was the throne. And wherever the throne was, so also should be the military.

Granted it was somewhat of an overkill; the kingdom's entire military force against a small duke's castle in a small corner of the kingdom. But as the military commander, Bors felt it was crucially important for all of the Knights and all of the men to fully get behind in support of their new High King; and that this would surely be a great cause towards that end.

But Bors was also a shrewd and intelligent man and a great strategist. And he had one more reason why he had done this. As he held the child Arthur in his large hands before all of his leaders, and had sparked their loyalty and commitment to fight on behalf of the tiny prince and their future High King, Bors had effectively instilled Arthur Pendragon into all of their hearts and minds. Because Bors knew ... that Uther's days as king were numbered.

*** *** ***

And so it was that the entire massive military might of the kingdom took off in hot pursuit of their High King, to follow him all the way to the most southwestern tip of the nation.

All, that is, save one.

Bors, himself.

For Uther had charged Bors with the care and oversight of his one and only son, the future High King; and had given the most sacred of royal commands.

_By your life._

Thus ... the Master Knight and General Commander of the entire Armed Forces ... upon his very first day on the job as the number two man in the entire kingdom ... and who even now was watching his troops march off to war ... he himself, had been reduced to being ... a babysitter.

After Bors bid farewell to the last troops of the massive deployment, Bors sighed and looked at the tiny child in his hands. He marveled at how good natured the child was, for it had not cried once the entire time.

Until now.

Bors figured the tiny prince was either hungry or needed to be changed. Having no idea how to deal with either of those two national emergency situations, Bors had already decided where he would go for strategic assistance. For Bors had recalled that the soldier Frederick, had a sister who was still weaning her most recent child.

Then, after Bors had taken care of his first and foremost priority, the High Prince and future High King, and seeing to it that Arthur was fed and changed, he would then return to make arrangements for the poor old peasant woman to receive a full and proper state burial, complete with royal honors including a stone memorial for her profound and heroic actions, that of the giving of her life to protect the High Prince and to bring him to safety. Because even though she had been nothing but a lowly peasant woman, Bors saw her to be the most noblest of heroes he had ever known.

*** *** ***

And in the midst of it all, neither Bors ... nor Uther ... had either one caught nor understood Ceola's last words as she died. They had both completely missed the news that Regan had once again been pregnant with Uther's child.

# Chapter 26

_Cornwall_

_One month earlier_

"Master! I have returned!"

"Good, good; yes, yes." said the evil demon Fallow. "Did you find the girl human, Gorlois?"

"Yes, Master! Igraine was there, just as you had said!"

"And did you bring Igraine with you as I had asked?"

"Yes, Master! She is here!"

"Why then, is she not standing before me?"

"You said she was mine!"

"Gorlois, when I give you a command, I expect you to obey. Do I need to punish you, again?"

"You said she was mine! You said she would bear me a son! You have lied to me!"

"I have not lied to you. Do you not already have four sons?"

"Yes, Master! I took four infants from four mothers in the village, just as you had commanded me!"

"And did you then kill the four mothers?"

"Yes, Master!"

"And the four fathers?"

"Yes, Master! I killed all of those filthy refugees in the village! There are none left alive!"

"Then you now have your four sons, just as I had promised you."

"But you said Igraine would bear me a son! Yet she has not!"

"WHAT!?"

"Igraine was with child when I found her! This very day, the child was born!"

"WHAT!? WHY WAS I NOT TOLD OF THIS!!?"

"You said Igraine was mine! You said she would bear me a son!"

"WHERE IS THE SON OF IGRAINE!?"

"Igraine did not bear a son! You lied to me! She has borne me another filthy daughter!"

"WHAT!?"

"Why did you lie to me!? You promised Igraine would bear me a son!"

"ARE YOU CERTAIN IT IS A GIRL CHILD!?"

"Yes, Master! Igraine spat at me and said she had named the filthy animal! She said its name is Morgan le Fay!"

"This does not make sense! The Prophet was recently heard to say the Daughter of Kemuel was to bear a son!"

"It was not a son, Master! It was only another filthy animal!"

"THEN TRY AGAIN! I WILL HAVE HER SON! TAKE HER EVERY DAY UNTIL SHE BEARS YOU A SON!"

"I ... I cannot, Master."

"WHAT!?"

"I have killed Igraine."

"WHAT!?"

"You lied to me, Master! You said she would bear me a son! But she bore me yet another filthy daughter! Now she has borne THREE daughters! Why did you lie to me?"

"GORLOIS! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!?"

"When I saw she had borne another filthy animal, I became angry! I threw Igraine from the upper window! Her body now lies below in the field."

"SHE IS DEAD!?"

"Yes, Master. Even now the wolves and scavengers surround her body. Soon, there shall be no trace of her and no one shall know."

"Gorlois?"

"Yes, Master? Have I ... displeased you?"

"Yes, you have greatly displeased me. Take your sword and cut off your right hand."

"Yes, Master."

"WAIT! What of Igraine's girl child!?"

"Shall I throw it to the wolves, also!?"

"No. Keep the girl child alive. Someday I shall have need of it."

"It is but a filthy animal!"

"Do not disobey me again, Gorlois; or I shall have you cut off your own head."

"Yes, Master."

"Have your nursemaiden see to it the girl child remains alive. Perhaps Morgan le Fay is the daughter the Prophet spoke of, and not Igraine. When the girl child becomes of age, you shall take her until she bears you a son."

"Yes, Master. I shall obey."

"Now, Gorlois; cut of your right hand while I watch."

"Yes, Master."

# Chapter 27

_Cornwall_

_Six weeks later_

The twenty fastest riders never could catch up to Uther. Though he ran the horse hard, Uther at least knew enough to rest the poor animal, else he wouldn't make it to Cornwall at all. But as High King, Uther had the strongest and fastest steed of them all, and thus he arrived at the castle of Duke Gorlois hours before the twenty riders. But Uther was not the one who needed to be protected. It turns out, it was the other way around.

Castle Cornwall was a very small castle, as it was a very small dukedom. With only a handful of nearby hamlets to rule over and no threat from the open western sea, there was little need to have many guards and sentries, nor was there much need for security.

There was another reason, however, why there was little security and only a few posted guards and sentries. For years there had been rumors of a dark and evil presence within the small castle, and everyone feared going anywhere near Castle Cornwall. And no one volunteered to serve or work there. The only ones who did serve at the castle, did so only by forceful insistence by the Duke. Or his cruel and evil Mistress Companion, Gytha. Together, they were both feared by the few servants and guards who were unfortunate enough to have served their time, as it was more like a prison sentence than anything else.

Thus, as Uther finally reigned in at the steps of Castle Cornwall - his horse lathered and his own eyes wild with fury, it was the unfortunate fate of those few guards and servants to have their first introduction to their new High King. For without a single word from the king, the introduction cost them their lives.

Uther exploded into anyone and everyone that tried to stop him and became death to anyone who came near. The locked front doors proved to be too strong for him to break down, but it was no problem for Uther to crash in through a nearby window.

It had all happened so fast, that when Uther burst into the entryway amidst an explosive shower of glass, no one inside had even known he had been there. There were only two people standing inside the entryway; both of them in stunned shock at the intruder. Gytha had been beating a servant cleaning girl for 'missing a spot'.

"GORLOIS!" Uther raged.

As the color drained from Gytha's face, she shook her head in terror.

Uther flashed his bloody sword up to her neck and glared at her with a chilling coldness that nearly rivaled her own. "WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE IS REGAN!?"

Gytha had no idea who the intruder was, nor did she have any idea who 'Regan' was; for she had only known her as Igraine. "Please, sir!" Gytha said, pleading for her life. "I am but Gytha, Companion to Duke Gorlois! I do not know anyone by this name!"

"WHERE IS GORLOIS?"

"Please, sir; the Duke has taken his four sons to a ... 'priest' ... to ... 'dedicate' them."

"HE HAS TAKEN MY WIFE! WHERE IS SHE!?"

"Please, sir, I am sorry! But I do not know the location of his priest! He keeps it as a secret from me! Nor do I know..."

And they were Gytha's last words as Uther took off her head.

The servant girl screamed at Uther's brutal act and violently began shaking her head at Uther, indicating she knew nothing. Uther was just about to remove her head as well, when he suddenly found himself struck with two crossbow arrows, one in each arm. He had been fired upon by two guards from the upper landing. But the arrows only served to fuel Uther's wrath as he ripped them out of his flesh and bounded up the stairs and quickly dispatched the two guards.

"REGAN!!!" he screeched at the top of his lungs.

Hearing no answer, Uther began racing through the castle, searching room by room, killing everyone that was unfortunate enough to come across his path and claimed to know nothing of Regan's whereabouts. He even referred to her as Igraine, but no one seemed to know anything. And it cost all of them their lives.

One by one, Uther's rampage ended up slaughtering everyone at Castle Cornwall, leaving behind a bloody path of destruction and bodies, men and women alike.

It didn't take long for Uther to search the small castle, for there were only twenty rooms. But he did manage to find a stairway which led to a locked wooden door upon the third floor. Unlike the larger front door, that smaller door was easily broken down.

And inside, Uther found a large room of horrors. Ghastly remains of animals were strewn all about, cut up into pieces and sewn back together in some sort of deranged attempt to create new animals. Some had been burned as a form of sacrifice. There were strange symbols painted upon the walls in blood and the floor was blanketed in sticky blood.

Uther then saw a large broken glass window. It looked like something ... or someone ... had been thrown through it. He rushed over to the window ... almost slipping upon the bloody floor ... and looked out ... and then down at a field.

"NOOOOOO!!!!!"

Racing back out of the castle, Uther reached the field in a matter of moments. Where in the dirt and grass lay the sun-bleached bones of a body, picked clean by scavengers. Even the hair and clothing was gone; whether blown away ... or taken by Gorlois, Uther didn't know.

But then ... the final moment came.

Uther saw it. Caught upon a nearby tall weed blowing in the wind, was a white ribbon; the one which Regan wore in her hair.

*** *** ***

And so began the descent into madness of High King Uther Pendragon.

# Chapter 28

There were others, however, hidden within the castle at Cornwall; two of whom would have been of special interest to Uther.

One was a tiny baby girl, hidden away below the castle in a cave whose only entrance was by the sea. The baby was Igraine's recently born fourth child and was named Morgan le Fay. The nursemaiden, whose name was Luella, had been the one assigned to watch over the child and was one of the lucky few who had survived the massacre.

The other, was a four year old girl, who was sequestered high in a hidden alcove up above the main entryway. The only way into the hidden alcove was through a secret passage in the upper attic.

Even Gorlois himself hadn't known about that particular hiding place. Only the girl's nursemaiden and Gytha had known of the alcove and of its special inhabitant. For Gytha the Mistress of Cornwall, had kept secrets of her own.

Through a small crack in the wall of her hidden prison, the young girl had watched everything. She watched as Uther had slaughtered everyone, including her own nursemaiden and 'secret caretaker' Gytha. While Gorlois and Gytha were generally cruel and evil, Gytha had at least shown some degree of caring for the little girl.

As the eyes of little Morgause looked upon the beheaded body of her caretaker lying in a pool of blood down below, those eyes took in every little detail of the grisly scene.

Details which would never be forgotten.

# ~ Prince ~

# Chapter 29

_Two years later_

"Your Majesty, this really is of utmost importance!"

"Have you found Gorlois?"

"Uh ... no, your Majesty! I am merely your Chief Advisor!"

"If you have no information about Gorlois, then nothing is of any importance to me. Leave me."

"It is about Prince Arthur, your Majesty."

"What about my son?"

"Next month is to be his third birth celebration!"

"What about it?"

"Should we not be ... celebrating!!? Your Majesty!?"

"Fine. Have a ... celebration. Now leave me."

"Thank you, Your Majesty! I shall take care of all the arrangements!"

"You do that."

"Thank you, Your Majesty! Uh ... do I have your permission to leave?"

"I never asked you to be here in the first place."

_Gulp._ "Of course, your Majesty. I shall ... leave ... now."

"Oh. And if you happen to see Bors, I need to see him."

"Yes, your Majesty. Of course, your Majesty."

Uther looked impatiently at his Chief Advisor.

His Chief Advisor remained standing there.

Uther began tapping his fingers irritably upon the arm of his throne chair.

His Chief Advisor remained standing there.

Finally, Uther sighed. "What is it, Alfred? Why are you still here?"

"Because, your Majesty; you gave me a command."

"What command?"

"You said if I were to see Sir Bors, that you need to see him."

"Alfred, whatever are you prattling about?"

"Forgive me for saying so, your Majesty, but Sir Bors is standing beside you."

Uther looked over at Bors who was standing right next to him. "When did you get here?"

"I have been standing right here beside since you first began your Audience Session, just as you commanded. We even spoke before your audience began."

"Oh."

"Uh ... Your Majesty?" Alfred asked. "Now that you have ... ahem ... 'seen' Sir Bors? I have fulfilled your command. Do I have your permission to leave?"

"Get out of here, Alfred."

"Of course, your Majesty! I shall leave at once! The Birth Celebration of the High Prince shall be a day to remember!"

"Uh huh."

After Alfred merrily went his way, Uther scowled at Bors. "I despise that man."

Bors shrugged. "It is of no surprise. You despise anyone who is happy."

"What do you want, Bors?"

"Me? I am only here because you had asked me to be here."

"Why did I ask you to be here, again?"

"You were holding audience."

"Why do I need to hold these ridiculous audiences, anyway? Can you not handle such simple matters?"

"Sire, you have been away for four months. I have dealt with all matters, just as you had asked me to. Save for such matters as these. The Birth Celebration of your son should be your decision, not mine."

"I am leaving again tomorrow, Bors."

"What!? You have only just returned!"

"I learned of a rumor of some hermit living in the north. It might be Gorlois."

"Sire, you have been searching for Gorlois for two years. Perhaps it is time to hand this task over to another. You have a kingdom to rule."

"To hell with the kingdom, Bors. I shall not rest until I find Gorlois."

"The people need you, Sire."

"And to hell with the people. Have you already forgotten the words of my brother Ambrosius? People are inconsequential. They do not matter. They have never mattered."

"Those ... were his words. But I do not think..."

"I do not care what you think, Bors. Why does everyone think they are my advisor? Why is everyone telling me what to do? I need no advisors. In fact, tell Alfred, he is no longer an Advisor."

"Alfred has been most loyal to you, Sire. He works very diligently to serve you."

"I know he does. Very well. Find him something else to do. Make him a scribe or something, I do not care. Just ... no more Advisors. I am sick and tired of people telling me how to run my own kingdom."

"You are never around to 'run' your kingdom, Sire."

"No, I have you for that."

"I am a military man, Sire; not a king. I have chosen to delegate most of my ... 'royal' responsibilities to those better suited."

"Whatever. I do not care. All I care about..."

"...is finding Gorlois. Yes, I know. We all know."

"I leave tomorrow."

"How long will you be gone, this time?"

"Three months. Perhaps four; depending on the weather."

"Your son's Birth Celebration is next month."

"Alfred is already taking care of that. Make sure it is a nice celebration, Bors."

"You should be here for your son, Sire."

"Bors, you know why I can never be around him."

"Because he reminds you of your wife."

Suddenly Uther's eyes filled with tears. Which happened very frequently these days ... and ... in Bors' opinion ... much too frequently and much too easily. Uther's mind was slowly slipping. His memory ... his judgment ... even his health. Just the mere mention of his wife would instantly bring him to tears.

Uther shook his head as he began to weep. "It is not that I do not love my son. I just cannot be around him. Every time I look upon his face ... all I see is Regan. It hurts too much, Bors. It hurts too much to be around him. Please make sure he has a nice Birth Celebration. I want him to have a nice time."

"Of course, Sire. It shall be a day to remember."

"Thank you, Bors. You are a good friend."

Bors began patting Uther on the back, helping him to calm down. He was slowly growing more accustomed to Uther's tearful and emotional outbursts, and found that patting the High King on the back always seemed to help.

# Chapter 30

_Three year Birth Celebration_

"Where is my father?"

The small three year old Prince walked into the main front entryway of the castle fortress, just as he and Bors were preparing to go to the Birth Celebration party.

"Your father could not be here today, young pup. He was called away upon an important mission of royal importance and urgency."

"I understand. He is very important."

"Yes he is, young pup. He is the most important man in all the kingdom and he has many, many duties. Just as you shall, someday. Are you washed and dressed, my Prince?"

"Yes, Bors."

"Did you wash behind your ears?"

"Yes, Bors."

"May I say, my Prince, the colors of House Pendragon look most excellent upon you. You appear regal and look every bit a High Prince of the Realm."

"Thank you, Bors. I really wish my father could be here."

"I know, young pup. But he said to tell you that he loves you, and that he hopes you have a nice time."

Arthur smiled up at Bors. "He said that?"

Bors found his heart melting every time the young child would smile at him in that way. "Yes, he did. He loves you very much. Is my Prince ready to leave?" Bors said while offering him his hand.

Arthur smiled at Bors once more, as he placed his tiny hand into the giant man's hand. "I miss my father. But I am glad you are coming, Bors."

"I would not miss it for anything, my Prince."

"Can I ask you something, Bors?"

"Yes, my Prince?"

"Can you call me Arthur, instead of 'my Prince'?"

Bors chuckled as they exited out of the castle's front door to attend the Great and Royal Birth Celebration.

# Chapter 31

_Five year Birth Celebration_

"Where is my father?"

The small five year old Prince walked into the main front entryway of the castle fortress, just as he and Bors were preparing to leave.

"Your father could not be here today, young pup. He was called away upon an important mission of royal importance and urgency."

"I understand. He is very important."

"Yes he is, young pup. He is the most important man in all the kingdom and he has many, many duties. Just as you shall, someday. Are you washed and dressed, my Prince?"

"Yes, Bors."

"Did you wash behind your ears?"

"Must we go to the Birth Celebration, Bors?"

"What!? Why would you not wish to attend your own Birth Celebration!?"

"Because people shall be there."

"WHAT!?"

"I do not like being around some of the people."

"Oh? Of which people would you be referring to?"

Arthur shrugged. "Just ... different people."

"Young pup, you love being around people!"

"Not all of them."

"Which ones?"

"Most of them."

"WHAT!?"

Bors was surprised to see Arthur looking up at Bors with a tear in his eye. "Some of those people ... are bad."

"WHAT!?"

"I do not like being around the bad people."

"WHICH ONES ARE BAD!?"

"Most of them."

"WHAT!?"

"Must we go to the Birth Celebration, Bors?"

Bors knelt down beside Arthur and wiped away his tear. "Tell me, young pup. Do you have the gift of seeing hearts?"

"I do not know what that means."

"When you meet someone ... can you see if they are ... good or bad? Can you see their intents and their motives?"

Arthur nodded.

"Oh." Bors sighed. "Oh dear. I ... I did not know this."

"I do not like being around the bad people. Must we go to the Birth Celebration?"

"Would you prefer ... a more private Birth Celebration? With only those you feel comfortable with?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Very well. I shall alert Alfred, the Master Scribe. He has made all of the arrangements. He shall be most disappointed, however. Who all should we invite?"

"You can come, Bors."

_Gulp._ "Uh ... thank you, young pup." Bors was a little surprised and somewhat relieved to learn he was not on the 'naughty list'.

"And Alfred. He can come, too."

"Very well. Good choice. I know that he likes you, as well."

"And Frederick. I like Frederick."

"What of Frederick's sister? She used to take care of you, you know."

"I ... I ... I am sorry, Bors."

"Oh, dear."

"She was nice to me. But she ... sometimes..."

"Never mind, young pup. I do not care to know the details."

"Okay. I do not like thinking about the details, either."

"Well now, so far that makes four who shall be coming to your Birth Celebration. Who else should we invite?"

"That is all I can think of."

"WHAT!? ARE YOU SERIOUS!?"

"Have I done wrongly, Bors?"

"WHAT!? NO!! I mean ... are you serious!? Only four people!? Of all the people you have met ... nobles and royals and servants and soldiers and .... young pup, you have met thousands! Surely you can think of more!! Who are ... good? Please tell me there are more. What about here in the castle!? We have over two hundred servants!"

"I am sorry, Bors. That is all I can think of."

Bors groaned.

"Oh! I have thought of two more!"

"Really? Who?"

"King Leodegrance and Queen Anice. I had met them when they came to visit father. I really liked them."

Bors sighed. "Cameliard is a long way away, young pup. And I believe Leodegrance travels a lot."

"Queen Anice was really pretty. Did you think she was pretty, Bors?"

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"I do not think the King and Queen liked Father, though."

"No, your father was a bit out of sorts that day. He was ... not himself."

"I do not think anyone liked him that day. I wish people could see him like we see him. Then I think they would like him."

"I ... am sure that they would."

"What are 'taxes'? People did not seem to be happy with Father when he spoke of 'taxes'."

"It ... is a little complicated. Perhaps in another year or two we can discuss this."

"Queen Anice was really pretty. Did you think she was pretty, Bors?"

Bors chuckled. "I believe the young pup has become enamored with the Queen of Cameliard."

"Her black hair sometimes looked blue, did it not?"

"Indeed it did. Just as her daughter, the Princess Guinevere."

"I did not see her much. The Princess always remained hidden behind her father."

"Well, she was only a little over two years old. A noble gathering can sometimes be overwhelming for a small child."

"But she seemed fine. If King Leodegrance and Queen Anice were to come to my Birth Celebration, they could bring the Princess, too."

Bors raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I could show her my lizards!"

Bors chuckled. "Well, as I said, they are far away and Leodegrance travels, often. Surely, young pup, there are others closer nearby who are ... uh ... good? What about the Knights?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Not one!?"

Arthur shook his head.

"Uh ... Knights in training, perhaps?"

And then Arthur's eyes brightened. "Accolon! And Sagremor! They are Knights in training!"

"It shall be some time before they are ready to be Knights."

"Oh." Arthur replied, looking dejected. "That is too bad."

"What is too bad, young pup?"

"It is too bad the Knights cannot be good like Accolon and Sagremor."

Bors shook his head and sighed. "Well ... perhaps ... Accolon and Sagremor are ... closer to Knighthood, than I had first ... uh ... realized."

Once more Arthur brightened. "Perhaps someday ALL the Knights can be good!"

Bors closed his eyes for a moment. _"Uther was right."_ He thought to himself. _"This gift is indeed a curse."_

"Are you okay, Bors?" Arthur asked. "You look sickly."

# Chapter 32

_Seven year Birth Celebration_

"Is my Father away, again?"

"I am afraid so, young pup."

"That is okay. I am glad you are coming to my Birth Celebration."

"Thank you, young pup. I would not miss it for anything."

"After my Birth Celebration, will I begin my Knight Training?"

"Yes, young pup. All those who wish to become Knights begin their training at seven years of age."

"Are there many who shall begin training with me?"

"Oh, yes. Hundreds. Hopefully ... _ahem_ ... thousands. We have, in fact, made an open invitation to all in the kingdom."

"Oh."

"Which reminds me, young pup. Will you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Bors! I would do ANYTHING for you! What can I do?"

"If you would, when you begin your Knight training, speak to me of those whose hearts you see to be good."

"Okay, Bors. Can I ask you something, Bors?"

"Certainly, my Prince."

"Why do we only have two Knights? Did we not once have over three hundred Knights? Now we only have Sir Accolon and Sir Sagremor. What happened to all of the other Knights?"

Bors sighed. "They ... are holding new positions in the Armed Forces. That seemed ... a better fit for them."

"Oh. What about all the servants? Where have they all gone?"

"They ... have found other places to serve. I am afraid it is now just you and me, young pup."

"And Father."

"Of course. And your father. Uh ... actually ... that brings up another good question, young pup. About your father, I mean. Is he ... uh ... how shall I word this ... is he ... good?"

"Oh, yes! Although ... I do not get to see him very often. I like being around him when he comes to visit us."

"It does not ... bother you? To be around him?"

"Oh, no! Well ... he does sometimes get angry. But I can tell it is not with me. And sometimes he cries for no reason. And sometimes I do not understand what he is saying. I think he sometimes gets confused. But ... I like being with my father. When he lets me, that is."

"He really does love you, Arthur. You need to know that he loves you."

"I know he does, Bors. I have always known that. Just like I know he loves my mother."

"Arthur ... you do know..."

"I know my mother has passed and is no longer with us. But Father says he still loves her. Sometimes I am not sure if Father remembers she has passed. Sometimes I see him speaking with her, when no one is there. Did you know my mother, Bors? Father tells me she is very pretty."

"I am sorry, young pup. I was never blessed to have known your mother. But yes, your father also tells me how beautiful she was. And, uh ... is ... still."

"Do you think my mother liked flowers, Bors?"

"Uh ... well ... I am sure she probably did."

"I was thinking perhaps we could make a garden with lots of flowers. That way when Mother visits Father, he could take her there, and show her the pretty flowers."

"Young pup, I think that is a wonderful idea. We should have our servants plant a big and beautiful garden."

Arthur smiled at Bors. "We do not have servants anymore, remember?"

"Oh, yes, I keep forgetting." Bors sighed. "We really need to find us a cook."

"Did you not like the soup I made? I made it with real tree bark and everything!"

_Sigh._ "We really need to find us a cook."

# Chapter 33

_Ten year Birth Celebration_

"Bors! I made you some soup!"

Bors groaned.

"I made lots!"

Bors walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. "Young pup, would you mind if we pass on your soup tonight? I ... seem to have misplaced my appetite."

"It is lizard soup!" Arthur announced, proudly.

"Excuse me?"

Arthur laughed. "I am only jesting, Bors. I would NEVER cook my lizards."

"You have certainly collected enough lizards to cook them."

"It is really frog soup."

"Are you jesting me again, young pup?"

"Nope. I really did make you frog soup."

"I ... am not hungry."

"But you are always complaining about being hungry!"

"Which is why ... my brother and I have decided to open an eatery; once we find a good location, that is. Since we cannot find a cook..."

"Oh, I found a cook."

"WHAT!?"

"Demelza is outside."

"Outside where!? Who is Demelza!?"

"She is our new cook! In fact, Demelza said we can call her 'Cook'. She said it is easier for me to remember. I kept saying her name wrong."

"Where did you find ... a cook?"

"Do you remember when we went out to chop wood last week?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember that nice lady I found in the forest?"

"The forest you were not supposed to go running off into alone like you did? And I nearly turned you over my knee for doing so?"

"Yes, you were pretty angry with me. But I was only chasing a lizard! And if I had not run off, then I would not have met ... uh ... what was her name, again?"

"Demelza?"

"Yes! Plus, I saw that same raven, again. The one I keep telling you about? I think it was leading me into the forest!"

"I have told you, young pup, there are no ravens in this region. Wait ... are you speaking of that blind woman we came upon!?"

"Yes. Her husband had died and I had heard her crying."

"I remember."

"I felt bad for her. So I went back out there this morning."

"YOU WHAT!?"

"I know I am not supposed to leave the castle without your permission, but I got to thinking about ... what was her name again?"

"Cook. Young pup, did I not warn you that I would turn you over my knee again if you ran off like that, again? You cannot be leaving the castle like that without escort!"

"She was lonely! And she was really sad!"

"Arthur..." Bors growled.

"So I brought her back with me."

"What!? You brought ... a blind woman back with you?"

"I asked her if she could cook! She said 'yes'! Then I told her I could cook, too! I asked her if she wanted to try my soup."

"And ... she really said 'yes'?"

"Uh huh. I think she is really lonely."

"You said she is outside?"

"Yes."

"Why is she outside?"

"She tasted my frog soup. I do not think she liked it."

"Did you tell her what was in it?"

"No. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Uh huh."

"I think she got sick. That is why she went outside."

Bors sighed.

"Do you think it was my soup?"

"Uh..."

"I did not tell her who I was."

"Wait, what!?"

"I did not want her to feel like she had to come. You told me that people always have to do what I say, because I am the High Prince."

"Uh ... right."

"I do not like making people do things they do not want to do. So I did not tell her. I just asked if she wanted to try my soup."

"And so ... she just ... came with you? Just like that?"

"I gave her a flower. That seemed to make her happy. Then she came."

"I see."

Just then, Demelza came in from the back door, feeling her way around with her walking stick. Bors rushed over to move a chair that she was about to fall over. "Pardon me, Ma'am. Allow me to move this out of your way."

"Who are you?" asked Cook.

"Uh ... my name is Bors."

"Are you the child's father?"

"Uh ... no. I am his guardian."

"This child was wandering around alone out in the forest! It is not safe out there; there are wolves and robbers and worse. Someone needs to take a switch to his bottom."

Bors turned and grinned at Arthur. "I think I like her, already."

Cook crossed her arms and frowned at Bors. "You like me for what?"

"WHAT!?"

Then Cook smacked Bors with her walking stick. "Do not think to take advantage of me, just because I am blind and widowed!"

"WHAT!?"

"Arthur? Are you in here?"

"I am over here, Cook! Did you like my soup!?"

Bors looked at Arthur in surprise. "You told her your name!?"

Arthur shrugged. "There are lots of people named Arthur."

"Uh ... I am not so sure about that."

The blind woman then turned towards Arthur. "Arthur, that soup of yours nearly killed me!"

"WHAT!?" Arthur exclaimed in horror.

"I just vomited up a week's worth of stew!"

"WHAT!?"

"Did you even cook the frog, boy!?" the blind woman asked, irritably.

"Are you supposed to?"

Bors slapped his hand over his eyes.

"I cooked the water!" Arthur pleaded.

The blind woman shook her walking stick at him, angrily. "You do not COOK water, boy. You boil water."

"Oh. What's the difference?"

Then the blind woman turned back towards Bors and struck him again with her stick.

"OUCH!"

"You need a cook."

Bors looked again at Arthur, rubbing his arm. "Are you sure about this?"

Arthur had a wide grin on his face; obviously enjoying seeing Bors getting struck by a blind woman.

Bors growled at Arthur.

And the blind woman stuck him again with her stick.

"OUCH! WOMAN! STOP DOING THAT!"

"Then you had better stop growling in my kitchen."

"WHAT!? YOUR kitchen!?"

"Watch your manners, young man."

"WHAT!?"

The woman turned again to Arthur. "When do I start?"

"How about now?" Arthur grinned.

Bors' mouth hit the floor.

"You must first agree to my terms." she replied.

"WOMAN!" Bors exclaimed. "It is NOT your place to dictate terms!"

The blind woman gave Bors a smirk. "Who do you think are? The king?"

Bors raised his eyebrow. "Uh..."

Arthur chuckled. "I think she is onto us, Bors."

"WHAT!?" Bors exclaimed.

"Do you know who I am?" Arthur grinned at the woman.

"Of course. You are High Prince Arthur Pendragon."

"WHAT!?" Bors exclaimed, again. "YOU KNEW!?"

The blind woman snorted. "I may be blind, but I am not stupid."

"How did you figure it out?" Arthur grinned.

"I know the distance from the forest to the castle. I hear everything and I heard everything along the way. I heard the horses and the guards. This kitchen is far too large to be that of a commoner. And I just barfed in a giant porcelain bird bath the size of a carriage."

"WHAT!?"

"Would you like me to go on or are you ready to discuss my terms?"

"Woman, how DARE you address the High Prince in this way! Show some respect!!!"

"Show some respect to a boy who just tried to feed me a frog?"

"Uh..."

"Bors, can I handle this one?" Arthur chuckled.

"Uh ... I do not think..."

The blind woman gave Bors the look. Which was impressive as she was blind. "What was that you just said about respecting the High Prince? Who answers to whom around here?"

"Uh ... well ... it is true I am in service to the High Prince..."

"It is okay, Cook." Arthur grinned. "Bors has been my guardian since I was a baby; I have always deferred to his instruction and guidance."

"I see." the blind woman replied. "Then ... perhaps I have overstepped my bounds. Forgive me, Bors, if I have misjudged."

"I ... I ... well ... as I think on it ... perhaps ... hmmm ... perhaps, maybe it is time for the young pup to begin making some of his own decisions. I have tried to guide him as I have thought best; but ... he is now ten years of age. I think perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is indeed time for the nestling to begin spreading his wings."

The blind woman nodded her head in approval. "I hear the tone in your voice. It is the voice of a caring and nurturing guardian. I see I have misjudged you, indeed. I thought you were a pompous and overbearing, power-hungry manipulator. Again, I apologize, Bors. I believe I have wronged you."

"Pompous?"

The blind woman then patted Bors on the arm. "And I wrongly thought you desired to make me your personal Concubine."

"WHAT!?"

"I am a cook, not a Concubine. Do not think to add me to the king's harem."

"Woman, the king has no harem!"

"Surely you jest."

"There has not been a women to set foot in this castle in years!"

"Well, that explains the smell."

"WHAT!?"

"How often do you bathe, Bors?"

"WHAT!?"

The blind woman turned and faced Arthur. "I wish to add this to my list of terms."

Arthur laughed. "What, that Bors needs to bathe more often?"

"You too, Arthur."

Arthur stopped laughing.

"Now. About my terms..."

Arthur looked at Bors, who tossed up his hands. "Go ahead, young pup. Spread your wings. I leave this decision to you."

"Very well." Arthur grinned at the woman. "I accept your terms. Cook? You are now officially our new Royal Master Cook."

Bors looked at Arthur incredulously. "You have not even heard her terms!"

"She can cook, and she has a good heart."

"How do you know she can cook!? She has not cooked anything!"

"Because she told me she can cook."

"Young pup, you cannot believe everything people tell you!"

"She is not lying, Bors. I can see it."

Bors sighed and finally decided to just stay out of it.

The blind woman faced Arthur with a surprised expression on her face. "You have the gift of seeing hearts?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry, Arthur Pendragon. I did not know this. This must be very hard on you."

Arthur shrugged.

"I would imagine you must get very lonely, sometimes. Is this why you have no servants?"

"How did you know we do not have servants?"

"I have heard others speak of your lack of servants at the market."

"You go to the market!? That is a long distance away from the forest!"

"There is no one to go for me. I am alone. I only go when I must."

"Not any more, Cook. You are staying here at the castle. Those are my terms."

Cook remained in quiet surprise for a time. "Excuse me?"

"I shall provide you with a room ... and board."

Bors looked at Arthur in shock. "She is but a servant! Servants do not ... live ... in the King's castle!"

"And..." Arthur continued. "All of your clothing and any and all other needs shall also be paid for. In addition, I shall pay you full salary. You shall never again know hunger nor aloneness nor the numbing coldness of winter. Never again shall you have to gather wood to cook and sleep by the fire to remain warm. You need no longer live in fear of robbers and attackers. You have been attacked before, haven't you? In your own home. This is why you are now blind."

Now it was the blind woman's turn to 'look' at Arthur in stunned shock. "You ... you can see this!?"

"I can see all of the things in your heart. I can see the sorrow and the hurt and the pain of your suffering. I can see the great loss of your husband, who was taken by disease. He was the only one who has ever shown you kindness. I offer you a warm home with a warm bed and warm friendship. I see your love of cooking, Demelza. I offer you a warm kitchen as well, stocked with everything you would desire."

Tears suddenly filled her blind eyes, and Bors found himself having to put his hands around her shoulders to steady her.

"Why ... why would you do this for me?"

"Because I can." Arthur smiled at Bors. "Because sometimes ... my curse can be a blessing."

Bors was marveling at Arthur with newfound amazement and awe and a whole new level of wonder and appreciation.

With tears now streaming down her face, Demelza bowed before Arthur. "Prince Arthur, you are a star from Heaven. I would serve one such as you willingly and gladly for all the days of my life, without terms of any kind. How may I serve you, m'Lord?"

Arthur grinned at her. "Tonight is my tenth Birth Celebration. There will only be a few of us. Do you know how to make cake?"

Demelza smiled at him, and rushed over to embrace him.

Bors was surprised to discover a tear of his own in his eye and quickly wiped it away before anyone could notice.

*** *** ***

Late that night after the Birth Celebration, after Frederick and Accolon and Sagremor had gone home and after Bors and Arthur had seen Cook to her new room, Bors walked Arthur to his own room.

"I have never eaten so well in my entire life." Bors said to Arthur as they reached his door. "I shall most likely be dreaming of Cook's wondrous meal this night. I have never known better."

"She made good cake, too." Arthur grinned. "I had five helpings!"

Bors chuckled. "I may not even require First Meal."

"I am looking forward to First Meal!"

"Oh, very well, I confess; so am I, young pup."

"Did I do okay today, Bors?" Arthur asked seriously. "About how I handled Cook and everything? That was my first royal decision, was it not?"

Bors looked at Arthur for a long time.

"What? Did I mess up?"

Then Bors surprised Arthur with a warm and tender embrace. "My only regret, young pup, is that I have not allowed you to spread your wings, sooner. Well done, young prince. Well done, indeed."

*** *** ***

Bors lie in his bed that night unable to sleep. He had always thought of himself as Arthur's teacher. But after being so close to Arthur for the past ten years, and seeing how much he himself had changed over the past ten years - and he had changed a lot - Bors had begun to realize that somewhere along the line, Arthur had become the teacher, and Bors had become the student.

He never admitted it to anyone; other than himself, of course. But after witnessing how the ten year old child had dealt with Demelza the cook, Bors knew in his heart of hearts and deep within his soul, that what Arthur had just done with a simple poor widow woman, Arthur would eventually do with an entire nation.

Indeed, a star had come down from Heaven.

# Chapter 34

And so it was, that at only ten years of age, the wisdom of the young prince and his kind and benevolent heart, began to win over those around him in such a way as never before seen in the land.

And his natural leadership skills, as well. For now in his third year of Knight training, Arthur was already at the top of his class in the area of warrior skills; but more importantly, he was also at the top of his class in leadership skills; for everyone seemed naturally drawn to Arthur. Though he was the High Prince, and one would expect everyone to cater to him, in truth it was the other way around. For Arthur could often be found working with others and helping to train others, rather than always focusing on his own skills and needs.

When Arthur had been seven years old, there had been an open call for anyone and everyone in the kingdom to come and 'try out' for Knight training. Primarily because there were no more Knights; for Bors had 'restructured' the Knight assembly and relocated all of the existing Knights into different positions within the military; making them Captains of platoons or placing them into other areas of leadership. For in truth, they were still very skilled and were more than qualified to lead other men.

Prior to the restructuring of the Knighthood, the Knights had been the elite fighting force; the best of the best. But Bors had picked up on Arthur's 'idea' that the Knighthood should be something more special. Something unique. Something which was based upon a common code of honor and virtue and trust and mutual respect; both for each other and for their fellow man; even the lowly peasant. Over time, Bors would learn to develop the requirements for the Knights to respect all people, nobles and peasants alike.

By the time Arthur would eventually become king, Bors would up the ante even further, requiring his Knights to become as 'little kings'; able to settle disputes and dispense justice and to offer help to those in need; as if Arthur himself was present in those situations. For eventually, that's what the Knights were to become; faithful representations of Arthur.

This, of course, would require far more training than mere field battle training. This was a whole new level of schooling and preparing and enriching, in many new uncharted areas of discipline and instruction and entirely new ways of thinking and philosophy. For by Arthur's example, Bors had begun to see and to know and to understand, that the greatest ruling strength of all ... was through wisdom and caring.

And so it was, that a new Knighthood was formed, and it was formed from scratch; beginning with Arthur's two closest friends Accolon and Sagremor; who along with Bors, would be the original founding members of what would someday future be called: the Knights of Camelot.

Accolon was a large man, with long blonde hair he wore in braids, and a short blonde beard. He had blue eyes and 'ruddy' reddish skin; and many women found him to be rather attractive.

Sagremor was also attractive in his own right, with long brown hair and also blue eyes. He wore no beard, as he was rather fond of the ladies and found they preferred him clean shaven. And Sagremor, especially, certainly never missed an opportunity to dally with the ladies.

All of the newest recruits to become Knights-in-Training had been personally 'hand-picked' by Arthur. Many thousands had responded to the call to begin Knight training, from all across the kingdom. But after three years, less than a hundred had met the 'requirements' and had been now been officially chosen for full training; those requirements being namely, the personal approval of a ten year old boy. The ones whom Arthur had confided in Bors that were 'good' ... were the only ones accepted into the elite corps. And a fresh new Band of Brothers had been born.

*** *** ***

Late that same night in which the initial band of young boys had been officially chosen for training, Bors and Arthur and Accolon and Sagremor had gathered in the castle kitchen to celebrate the new and upcoming Knighthood.

Frederick, who was 17 years of age, was the oldest of those who had been accepted into Knight training. He would have also been joining them that night, except it was the beginning of week's end and he was away in Cameliard visiting a girl he had only recently met.

Accolon and Sagremor, who were now each 19 years of age, had already previously been 'unofficially' accepted as Knights and had been instrumental in the past three years of training the younger boys. But this was also the day which had marked their 'official' appointment as true Knights of the Realm by their Battlemaster; complete with full Knight's salary and housing and all Knightly allowances and privileges.

The ale flowed and even ten year old Arthur was given his very first tankard. Accolon and Sagremor chuckled as Arthur gratefully accepted the very large tankard with eyes as wide as saucers.

"Go easy, little man." Accolon grinned. "It would not speak well of us to be the cause of a young drunken Prince."

With his eyes still wide, Arthur nodded. "Perhaps I shall only have some now and save the rest for later."

"You can handle a single tankard, young pup." Bors said, slapping Arthur on the back. "Just take it slow and easy."

Arthur nodded and took a small sip. And then made a sour face, even as his mouth was covered with foam. "This is awful!!" he complained. "You drink this stuff!? It tastes like mud!"

The three Knights burst out into laughter.

"Actually..." Sagremor grinned, "...this brown ale is among our finest. My thanks to our gracious Battlemaster." He said, as they all toasted each other.

Arthur then took one more sip and then wrinkled his nose, pushing the tankard aside. "Perhaps I shall save ... MOST of it for later."

The three Knights chuckled as they then drained their tankards and then slammed their empty tankards to the table.

"MORE!!" Bors grinned.

Arthur grimaced and rose to his feet. "May I have water, Bors?"

Bors chuckled and nodded his head, as Arthur disappeared out the back door towards a large barrel of water while grabbing an empty cup from the shelf.

Accolon shook his head with an admiring smile. "A High Prince who seeks permission to fetch his own water. Not a day goes by where he does not surprise me."

"Indeed." Sagremor agreed, as he refilled their three tankards from their own nearby barrel of ale. "He shall one day make for a great king. I, for one, look forward to that day." As Sagremor sat back down, all three toasted the future king and quickly drained their tankards.

"Forgive me for asking this, Battlemaster." Sagremor asked. "Tell me if I speak ... inappropriately. But do we know when that day might be?"

Bors shook his head. "It is a question which is in the mind of many, if not most. You do not speak wrongly. But as the High King breathes, he shall remain the High King. He cannot pass the crown even if he so wishes, while there is still life in his body. Such is the ascension of High Kings."

Accolon looked at Bors. "I understand from Arthur that the High King has only just returned from further endeavors to locate Gorlois."

"He has been with us a fortnight." Bors replied.

"He still goes out alone? He takes no others with him?"

"He searches alone, just as he has always done."

"Does he ... speak to anyone? When he is here?"

Bors sighed for a time, looking into his third tankard. Then he drained his tankard in a single long pull. "Nay. He no longer speaks. When he is here, he remains shut up in his room."

"Does he ... no longer give audience?"

Bors shook his head.

Just then Arthur returned with his cup of water. "My father does not like being here." Arthur said, simply as he sat down.

Bors looked at Arthur, curiously. "Has he spoken to you of this?"

Arthur shook his head. "He does not speak to me, either. Except, only once briefly when he first arrived. He now only sits upon a chair by the table at his window and looks out. But I can see it in his heart, he does not like to be here. I think that is why he remains away most of the time."

"Can you read the minds of others?" Accolon asked.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "No. I can see the intents of the heart and I can sometimes feel what others are feeling, if I touch them."

"Young pup..." Bors asked, "...what does your father ... feel?"

"Most of the time, nothing. Most of the time, there is nothing there. I no longer see the intents of his heart, for I think his heart no longer has intents."

"He has no desire to live?" Sagremor asked. "Not even to seek Gorlois?"

Arthur shook his head. "Honestly? I think my father gave up looking for Gorlois a long time ago. That is no longer the reason why he leaves and remains away."

"What does he do, then? Where does he go?"

Arthur sighed and looked into his cup of water. "I do not know. I heard him speaking of fishing while he thought he was talking to my mother. Which ... he seems to do more often these days. But he seemed to think my mother had once seen him in a vision as ... the Fisher King. I am unsure what that means. I think the only reason he comes back here at all is out of a sense of responsibility. And maybe even..." Arthur wasn't able to finish as he looked down.

"Maybe even ... to see you?"

Arthur nodded, as a tear came to his eye. "I can tell he wishes to see me, but I can also see it hurts him when he does. His mind is ... greatly afflicted. There seems to be a battle in his mind and it worsens with each year. My father is not winning the battle."

The foursome remained quiet for a long time as they pondered the fate of their High King. Finally, it was Sagremor who asked the question the three Knights were all thinking. "How can the kingdom be ruled by a man whose mind is not right? As tragic as such a thing is ... and Arthur, I do not seek to demean your hurting and your loss, but..."

"No, I understand, Sagremor. I have known of my father's illness all of my life. You need offer no apology."

Bors shook his head. "As long as the High King breathes, he is still the High King. That is the way of things."

"What of you, Battlemaster?" Accolon asked. "Are you not his Second? Have you not been given authority to rule in his stead?"

"To settle disputes and to make day-to-day decisions, yes. Of which I have delegated most responsibilities to others more qualified; though they still report to me of their decisions. But as for royal decisions, such as laws and decrees and disputes between borders and kings? Nay, those may only be addressed by the High King, himself."

"It is no secret his Majesty is unpopular with our neighbor kings." said Sagremor, looking again at Arthur. "Again, my Prince, I mean no..."

"Please." Arthur replied, holding up his hand. "Sagremor, you are one of the few I trust. You have always spoken the truth with me and always from a good heart. There is no honor or value in denying the truth; especially when it is well known."

"Are you sure you are only ten years of age?" Accolon smiled.

Arthur grinned and pointed a finger at the pantry. "Behind that door is a portion of cake which bears proof of my age in icing!"

As Accolon and Sagremor chuckled, Bors coughed. "Uh ... actually..."

"What!?" Arthur exclaimed. "Bors!? You ate my cake!?"

Bors looked away guiltily.

Arthur looked at Accolon and Sagremor, incredulously. "He ate the rest of my cake! Can you believe it!? He ate the rest of my Birth Celebration cake!"

"That shall teach you, my Prince..." Sagremor grinned. "Next time you should take the cake to your private quarters and keep it safely hidden from our Master Cake Stealer."

"I am NOT a cake stealer!" Bors protested.

Arthur crossed his arms and scowled at Bors. "You ate my cake."

Bors sighed. "Forgive me, young pup, it was too great a temptation. I shall ask Cook to make you another."

"Forget it! Why should Cook have to pay for your crime!?"

"My ... crime?"

"You ate my cake, Bors. That should be punishable by thirty lashes."

"Is that a fact?"

Arthur ignored Accolon and Sagremor who were struggling with keeping straight faces. "Okay. Perhaps that is a might severe. I shall have to determine some other form of suitable punishment."

"Oh? And who would seek to enforce this ... punishment, little Prince?"

"Why ... Accolon and Sagremor, of course."

"WHAT!?" they both objected.

"And myself, of course. Being the High Prince, you must do whatever I say."

Bors raised his eyebrow.

"And I think I know exactly what the punishment should be."

"Young pup, if it involves preventing me from Cook's cooking, then do not think I shall go down without a fight."

Arthur grinned. "I was thinking something more ... entertaining."

Now Bors' eyes both widened in surprised. "What ... exactly ... do you mean by ... entertaining?"

"I was thinking your punishment should involve, oh ... something along the lines of ... entertaining a woman for a meal."

"WHAT!?"

Now the eyes of both Accolon and Sagremor joined with Bors in surprise.

Arthur grinned mischievously at Bors. "I know you want to entertain a woman, Bors. Every time we walk by any of the Nobles' Concubines, I can see the intents of your heart."

"WHAT!?"

Accolon and Sagremor burst out laughing.

"Therefore, Bors, as your punishment, I shall choose a woman for you. Someone whom I think would be adequate for the intents of your heart."

"Surely, you jest!!"

"You must only entertain the woman once. Perhaps we could have her over for an evening meal here or something. That ... is your punishment."

"I DO NOT THINK SO!!!"

Arthur crossed his arms and gave Bors a scowl. "You ate my cake."

Accolon grinned at Bors. "You ate the Royal Birth Celebration cake of the Royal High Prince. That cannot go without severe punishment."

"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS! BOTH OF YOU!!"

Accolon and Sagremor began snickering.

Bors then turned and looked at Arthur incredulously. "Do you mean to tell me, that you can also see such 'intents'? I mean ... THESE kind of intents!?"

Arthur grinned. "You have these intents, often."

Bors turned red and slapped his hand over his eyes.

"I think you need a wife, Bors. Or ... something."

"I DO NOT THINK SO!!!"

Arthur shrugged. "As I have said, for your punishment, you must only entertain the woman once. I shall choose someone and we shall have her over for a meal."

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?"

Arthur looked over at the other two Knights. "Are you wishing for me to answer you? In front of them?"

"NO! Fine. YES! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?"

"Because you are lonely, Bors."

"WHAT!?"

"You know..." chuckled Sagremor, "...this brings up an interesting question. I can ... almost ... understand why the High King has chosen not to take other wives. And I can even understand why he does not have Companions, as he clearly has no desire to carry friendships or conversation. But why does he not at the very least have Concubines? I have never heard of a king or a noble who does not have Concubines."

"King Leodegrance does not have Companions and Concubines." countered Arthur.

Sagremor looked at Arthur in surprise. "He does not!?"

"Have you seen his wife?" Accolon winked.

"I ... have heard of her, but I have not seen her."

"She is very pretty." Arthur grinned.

Bors turned and gave Arthur a sly grin. "I have heard rumors that her daughter, Guinevere, is turning out to be just as pretty."

Arthur held up a finger. "Do not try to change the subject, Bors. You ate my cake."

"I assure you ... my Prince ... that I have NO intention of..."

"Yes, you will. Because as your High Prince, I command it."

"What!? You are commanding me? To go on a ... date!?"

"You ate my cake."

Bors groaned.

"How old are you, again?" Accolon chuckled.

"Hold on a moment and I shall tell you." Arthur replied, as he walked over to the pantry and opened the door. "Oh. Would you look at that? I cannot tell you how old I am, because ... SOMEBODY ATE MY CAKE!" Arthur then turned around and pointed his royal finger at Bors. "You ... are going on a date."

And Bors sighed.

Accolon grinned at Sagremor. "I had thought only royals and nobles went on 'dates', in order for the man to interview their potentials for the joining of houses. Does our Sir Bors look like a royal or noble to you?"

"Nay." Sagremor replied. "I have always thought he looked more like a lumbering ox."

Bors slammed his fist down on the table. "THAT IS ENOUGH OUT OF BOTH OF YOU!"

Accolon and Sagremor instantly straightened up with a look of alarm on their faces; albeit still with a very slight look of amusement.

Then Bors glared at Arthur. " I am NOT going on a ... date. 'Dates' are only for nobles. I am NOT interviewing a woman. If I want a woman, then I shall have a woman. If I want a wife, then I shall take a wife. But NOT ... because some child tells me to!"

"That is just it, Bors." Arthur smiled, innocently. "You want a woman, but you will not take one."

"I have more than my hands full taking care of you, young pup. Not to mention your father's duties and the troops and the new Knighthood. I do not have time for a woman."

Arthur crossed his arms. "So I am making you take the time."

"I do not think so."

"You ate my cake."

"I shall get you a new cake!"

"You want a woman."

"I do NOT want a woman!"

"Now you speak lies, Bors." Arthur grinned. "I can always see the intents of your heart. And you have such intents. Often."

Bors sneered at him.

"Are you serious!?" Accolon exclaimed. "You can really tell ... when we have such ... uh ... intents!?"

Arthur nodded. "You have both had such intents ever since we began speaking of such intents."

"What!? How can ... how can you..."

"Your hearts get all warm and glowy and ... it is difficult to explain. Of course there is Frederick, when he sometimes speaks about that girl Katelyn he has met from Cameliard; although I think his heart is becoming more intently serious about that girl in particular. But as for you two? Every time one of you sees a pretty girl you become all warm and glowy. Except you, Bors; any time you see ANY girl..."

Bors dropped his head to the table. "Surely this gift is a curse."

*** *** ***

"Perhaps ... we should change subjects." Accolon chuckled, after the laughter settled down. Of course, Accolon and Sagremor were nearly as red as Bors.

Arthur shrugged. "May we speak of the reasons why other kings and nobles dislike my father?"

The other three looked at Arthur in surprise. "That ... is a sharp change of subject." noted Sagremor.

"It has been troubling me for a long time. I do not wish people to think ill of my father. Why do people hate my father?"

Bors sighed. "Young pup, people do not ... 'hate' ... your father."

Arthur looked at Bors, as if Bors was challenging what Arthur could obviously see in the hearts of other people.

"...exactly." Bors sighed, again. "For it not because of injustices done by your father."

"I know. These things were done by Vortigern before my father reclaimed the throne."

"Actually..." Bors said, "...Vortigern did many terrible things, that is true. But High King Constans ... and his father before him, Constantine III, they had also done things which caused much dislike for the throne. Your father has inherited such problems. Unfortunately, your father has done nothing to alleviate those problems. Therefore, the people now blame him."

"I know that, Bors. Not doing anything about the problems is as bad as having caused them in the first place. That is not what I was asking."

Bors looked at Arthur in surprise. "You already knew all of this?"

"Of course. I knew that a long time ago. I have known for a long time how everyone now blames my father."

"That is the problem, young pup. Uther ... has not done anything. And only the High King can undo what has been done in the past."

"Is that really true?" Arthur asked. "Only the High King?"

"I am afraid so, young pup. And someday you shall inherit these very same problems, because nothing is likely to be done about them. Although by that time, I am sure they shall have likely grown much worse. People are like that, you know."

"People like blaming people, don't they?"

"Of course, young pup. Especially those at the top. You shall be inheriting all the blame of Vortigern and your forefathers. And there is little we can do until you wear the crown."

"Perhaps there are some things we can do."

"Such as?"

"The taxes. The people and the kings and the nobles hate the taxes. They get very angry with my father about heavy taxes."

"Those heavy taxes were put into place by a royal decree from Vortigern. They can only be removed by royal decree from the High King."

"We can give the money back."

"I understand what you are saying, young pup. But it does not work that way. It is a little more complicated than that. We cannot simply ... open up the royal treasury to the public. The royal treasury has been protected by laws since the earliest of days. As I said, the problem of taxes is complicated. Perhaps when you are older..."

"I was not suggesting opening up the royal treasury to the public. I understand how the flow of exchange works."

Bors raised his eyebrow. "Do you, now?"

"I have been tutored since I was two years of age, Bors. I understand how these things work."

Bors looked at the other two Knights with a slight smile on his face. "Is that a fact? Very well. Let us hear how a ten year old child would solve the problem of taxes."

"I propose we open a marketplace."

"A ... marketplace?"

"My grandsire once purchased all of the land surrounding the castle fortress, did he not?"

"He did."

"Therefore, that land now belongs to me. I propose we open one quarter of the land to establish a public marketplace. We invite anyone and everyone to come to this public place and market their wares. Be it artisans or craftsmen, farmers or clothiers ... even eateries, Bors." Arthur winked.

Bors looked at him in surprise.

"We allow them use of the land for free." Arthur added.

"Near the castle fortress!?" exclaimed Sagremor. "Surely you jest!"

"We allow them to use the land for free..." Arthur continued, "...and we allow them to set up their shops for free. We shall even build all of their shops for them, and pay for all the materials, and build public roads which shall lead to this marketplace."

"With what money!?" exclaimed Bors.

"With the taxes we have collected. It is in this way, we can give the money back to them. We need not issue any decree, because we are using the taxes for building and construction and conducting valid business upon royal land, which I own, and not because we give money to the people. To make it a true business venture, we must receive capitol. Therefore, all we ask in return, is a very small percentage of each and every sale. According to my figures, and I have gone over them with Alfred, the Master Scribe, we would only need 75 shops and businesses and merchants and the marketplace would pay for itself. Any more would be a surplus in our coffers. The merchants would do well because of the location and close proximity to the castle, and they would have no initial overhead of expense, other than providing their own wares and supplies and inventory. To promote healthy competition to keep prices fair, the merchants who retain the highest sales shall be located in the center; whereas the less successful merchants shall be remain at the outer edges. If they are unable to turn any profit at all, they shall forfeit their position entirely and their spot shall be given to someone else. And if the marketplace is successful enough and is well-enough promoted and generates enough income, then perhaps by the time I ascend to the throne, I can remove the burden of taxes entirely."

*** *** ***

It was a very, very, very long time of stunned silence, before the three Knights finally managed to pick up their mouths which had been lying upon the kitchen floor.

"How old did you say you were, again?" Accolon asked in awe.

Arthur turned and looked at Bors. "I do not know. Someone ate my cake."

Bors rolled his eyes.

"When you say ... 'small percentage of the sales'..." Sagremor began to ask.

"Three percent." Arthur replied.

"I ... could afford ... three percent..." Sagremor said, thoughtfully.

"Actually, everyone should be able to afford three percent." said Arthur. "Even peasant farmers. Even ... widows, who all they can do is sew. I got to thinking about Cook. She was fortunate that I happened to stumble upon her in the forest. But what of all the other widows in the kingdom? Surely even Bors could not eat that much cooking." Arthur teased.

Bors snorted.

"The point is, this whole idea started out as ... 'what could we do to offer help to all the others? Cook would never have been able to open up her own shop or eatery. Nor could thousands upon thousands of others. This way ... well, at least it is a start. And least it would give more people a greater chance. And it would not involve changing laws or royal decrees or negating wrongful things done by my forefathers. That is how this whole idea started."

Arthur wasn't surprised to see a tear forming in Accolon's eye, for he well knew from private conversations, how that Accolon had planned on giving away a portion of his salary to help widows and orphans. "I knew at least you might support this idea." Arthur smiled.

Accolon found he could only nod.

"What about the rest of you?" Arthur asked. "What do you think?"

Sagremor grinned. "I think, I might open up a sword sharpening shop!"

Bors raised an eyebrow.

Sagremor cleared his throat. "Uh ... that is ... only on week's end ... as I am now officially a Knight, as of today ... I do still have week's end to do as I please, do I not, Battlemaster?"

"This? From the man who spake that I look like a lumbering ox?"

_Cough._ "Uh..."

"How much would you charge to sharpen my sword?"

"Uh ... for you, Battlemaster?" _Ahem._ "No charge."

"No, no." Arthur chuckled. "There shall be no free offers within the marketplace; else we shall not receive our three percent which is necessary to remain legitimate and above suspicion. I also do not think it would be fair business practice to your fellow merchants. I have already begun drawing up a list of fairness rules with the Master Scribe."

Bors threw his hands up in the air. "Is there ANY thing you have not thought of? You leave nothing for the rest of us!"

Arthur grinned. "I am sure there are a thousand things I have not thought of; this shall be no small undertaking. So does this mean you approve of the idea!?"

"I have only one question for you, my Prince." Bors asked.

"What is that?"

"What shall we be naming this new venture? If we shall be promoting this ... marketplace of yours around the kingdom, it should have a name."

"Oh, that part was easy. I was thinking of calling it ... The Marketplace."

Bors smiled at Arthur.

Arthur grinned back, sheepishly. "I got the idea for the name from Cook. I still cannot remember her name sometimes."

Everyone laughed as they toasted the new Marketplace. And Cook.

# Chapter 35

_Eleven year Birth Celebration_

"Camelot."

"Excuse me, young pup?"

"What do you think of the name ... Camelot?"

CLASH!!! CLASH!!!

Arthur was speaking to Bors, while Bors was watching Arthur and another Knight trainee named Frederick fighting with swords over a small marked territory. The winner of the monthly tournament would be awarded an all-you-can eat dinner to be prepared personally by Cook.

"I have no idea what you are speaking about, young pup. Pull your head out of the clouds and focus on your footing; you are favoring your right."

"We need a name, Bors."

CLASH!!! CLASH!!!

Bors crossed his arms. "Your stance is not low enough. Who needs a name? A name for what?"

"The castle. The courtyards. The Knights barracks. The stables. The grounds all around. The area where the Marketplace is being constructed. All of the lands surrounding us which belong to us. This whole entire area and region needs a name."

"The area has a name. In case you have forgotten, it is called House Pendragon."

"No. That is not a name. That is a title. 'House Pendragon' sounds like it is all about me."

"That is because it is about you. Well ... your father and you."

CLASH!!! CLASH!!!

"Now you are favoring your left." Bors scolded. "Focus on what you are doing!"

"I am focusing, Bors! And no, it is NOT about me! OR my father! The throne exists, because of the people. Without the people, there is no throne. It has never been about me, or my father, or even my forbearers. It has always been about the people."

"STOP!!!"

Arthur and Frederick instantly stopped and froze; just as they had been always taught.

"Where you have you heard this before, young pup?"

"Uh ... I do not know if I have heard this before; at least that I can recall. It just seems ... right."

"Take a break." Bors ordered Frederick.

"Yes, Battlemaster!" And Frederick quickly left.

After Frederick was gone, Bors sighed.

"Did I say something wrong, Bors?"

"No, young pup. It is just ... what you had just said ... I am unsure if you understand the profound importance or significance of what you have just said."

"Do you not agree with my position?"

"Your father once thought as you, young pup. But it was long ago; before he became High King."

"It seems right to me, Bors."

Bors sighed. "I am ... not surprised."

"You have never told me about those days, Bors. Before he became High King and began his decline into illness. You knew him before, yet you have never wished to speak of that time. Why today?"

Bors shrugged. "Tonight is your eleven year Birth Celebration. Perhaps it is time. What you just said, young pup ... it reminded me of him. For a moment, I had even thought I had heard Uther speaking. You are ... not unlike how he once was."

"You admired him."

"There was a time, yes."

"But you do not think he is the same man, anymore."

Bors sighed, again. "Young pup, I once admired your father. There was even a time; though I dared not confess it to any other, where I once thought Uther might have made for a better king than his brother, Ambrosius. And I had thought very highly of Ambrosius. But your father ... there was something ... different about Uther."

"You did tell me once, long ago when I was small and you were putting me down to sleep, that my father risked his life in a very dangerous effort to clear a waterway in order to save many thousands of lives."

Bors smiled. "I had thought you were asleep when I spoke those words."

"I was awake enough to hear them. There were in fact, many such times when you had said good things about my father while you thought I was sleeping. I think ... it was your way of letting me know that you had once thought highly of my father and that you once thought he was a good man."

"I am sorry, young pup. But I do not believe that man exists, anymore. That man died with your mother."

*** *** ***

Later that night, it was Arthur's Birth Celebration dinner; after which Cook had already gone to bed after a long day of cooking and baking. Besides Arthur and Bors, also present were Arthur's three closest friends, Frederick, Accolon and Sagremor.

Cook had made an extra cake.

As Bors refilled their tankards for the third time, Arthur was still working on his first.

"Are you going to finish it this time?" Accolon teased.

"I am working on it." Arthur grinned. "See? I am nearly halfway done. I may even be ready for a refill, later. Maybe."

"Nay, young pup." Bors chuckled. "Perhaps next year for your twelve Birth Celebration. But this night you shall be limited to one."

"Awww..."

"We cannot have you under the influence, my Prince."

"Will you stop calling me that? My name is Arthur."

Bors winked and took another long draught from his own tankard.

"Speaking of being under the influence..." Sagremor grinned at Frederick.

"It is true." Frederick replied with a sheepish smile.

"Do you really intend to take a wife?"

"I do. I have already paid her Brideprice and have accepted arrangements for dowry. Tomorrow I ride to Cameliard and shall complete her purchase and bring Katelyn back as wife."

"You have stolen the handmaiden of a Princess." Accolon teased. "I trust her price was not too rich for your purse?"

"Fortunately Katelyn comes from a peasant family. The Brideprice was within my means."

"I cannot believe the Princess of Cameliard has let her go so cheaply." Arthur teased.

Bors smiled and shook his head. "The price is dictated by the girl's father, young pup; not by the Princess."

"The fact that she had been the handmaiden to the Princess did add a premium to her price, however." said Frederick. "For a peasant farmer, her father received a handsome sum for his daughter."

"A handmaiden to a Princess." Sagremor grinned. "Well done, Frederick. One can almost overlook that you have chosen a wife from a lower caste. Nay, what am I saying? We shall NEVER overlook that you have married beneath your station. Nor shall we ever let you forget it." Sagremor teased.

Frederick smiled at Arthur. "Have you ever met the Princess? Katelyn introduced me to her. She is only nine years of age, but already I can see she shall be worth a King's ransom in gold."

"I have sort of met Guinevere once; when her father and mother once visited us many years ago. She was less than three years of age at the time. She was timid and remained hidden behind her father."

"You should see her now." Frederick winked. "In three or four years, I suspect there shall be a long line of suitors."

Arthur shrugged. "I recall her mother was pretty."

Bors chuckled. "I recall our young prince had a crush on Queen Anice."

"I DID NOT!"

"Eh. You were only five years of age. There is no shame in that."

"You may wish to get in line for Guinevere, early." Frederick teased. "Before some other suitor purchases her out from under you."

"I am eleven years of age. What possible use could I have for a woman or a wife? I care nothing for such things."

"You DO understand what women are for, do you not?" teased Sagremor.

"Yes! I know all about ... that! Mostly."

"Oh, this sounds interesting. Please, do tell us about ... that."

"I know what people ... do." Arthur replied, turning red.

"What do they 'do'?" Sagremor chuckled.

"I know that they have ... babies. Do not forget, I am educated."

"Have you been educated as to how babies are made?"

Arthur looked at Bors with a pleaful look of embarrassment.

Bors coughed. "Perhaps ... we should turn our attention to other matters. This is, after all, the eleven year Birth Celebration of our High Prince."

"My name is Arthur!"

After everyone finished laughing - at Arthur's expense, Bors changed the subject to the Marketplace. Bors held his tankard up for a toast. "Last week was our grand opening. My congratulations to our High Prince, for the response has been greatly overwhelming; more than we had ever anticipated. 250 shops and that is only the beginning! A toast to our wise and ... 'educated' High Prince. May the Marketplace continue to be as successful in the years ahead."

They toasted Arthur and then toasted each other. Then the others refilled their tankards a fourth time.

"How can you drink so much of that stuff?" Arthur asked in surprise.

"This 'stuff'..." Accolon grinned, "...happens to be my best red ale, saved for the most important of occasions - such as royal Birth Celebrations."

"Sorry." Arthur smiled. "It is truly ... uh ... good."

Bors chuckled. "Ale is an acquired taste, young pup. In another year or two I suspect you shall be appreciating it just as the rest of us."

"If you say so." Arthur said, staring into his tankard deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" Frederick asked. "Surely you have not come up with yet another wondrous idea comparable to the Marketplace?"

"Actually ... I was thinking about you, Frederick."

"Oh? What about me?"

Arthur looked at Frederick. "Tomorrow you are purchasing your new wife. You are bringing her back to live in the Knights Barracks."

"I most certainly am!" Frederick grinned. "And I am greatly looking forward to it."

"I know." Arthur replied. "I can see your heart is all warm and glowy, even as we speak."

Frederick groaned. "Oh, not this, again. Can a man not have 'intents' of the heart without you knowing about it!?"

"Sorry, Frederick. I shall try to mind my own business and keep my thoughts to myself."

"It is MY thoughts that I wish I could keep to MY self!"

"Of which you seem to be having plenty of, as of late." Arthur teased.

"Arthur..." Frederick scowled. "That is a little personal, if you do not mind."

Bors chuckled. "We have already discussed, young pup, that it is best to keep what you see to yourself. It makes others most ... uncomfortable. _Ahem._ Myself included."

"Sorry. I shall try and remember."

"Speaking of which..." Sagremor grinned at Bors. "Were you not supposed to 'entertain' some woman for dinner, of Arthur's own choosing? Whatever happened with that, anyway?"

"That is a private matter." Bors replied with a scowl. "One which I do not care to speak of amidst dogs like yourselves."

"Aha!" Sagremor exclaimed with eyes brightening. "You did! You have shared a meal with a woman! Who was she, Battlemaster?"

"It is of no one's concern. Mind your own business, Sir Knight."

Sagremor grinned at Arthur. "At least give us her name. Who was she? Do we know her?"

"Her name is Deorwynn." Arthur grinned.

"Arthur..." Bors growled.

"Is?" Sagremor chuckled. "Not ... 'was'? You mean ... our Battlemaster still entertains this very same woman!?"

"That is enough, Sir Knight!" Bors barked. "I do not care to discuss my personal affairs with a dog!"

Sagremor burst out laughing. "Touchy, touchy! Can it be!? Has our own Battlemaster taken a liking to a woman!?"

"Silence!!"

Arthur grinned. "He bathes each time he goes to see her and everything!"

Bors slammed his fist down on the table.

And everyone instantly shut up, as they wisely knew when it was time to back off. Though the smiles never left.

*** *** ***

"So you were saying something about Frederick?" Accolon asked Arthur, changing the subject with a grin. "Something about him bringing his new wife home to the Knights Barracks?"

"Yes." Arthur replied, looking at Frederick. "I have been discussing this with Bors over the past week. I had been thinking that Katelyn might like flowers."

Frederick looked at Arthur thoughtfully for a moment. "As a matter of fact, she does. There are flowers blooming all around the pond. I had thought to take her there to see them on our way back from Cameliard."

Sagremor elbowed Frederick. "Not to mention the pond is in a secluded area, away from the rest of us."

Frederick grinned. "I thought she might ... uh ... you know ... enjoy the view."

Arthur smiled at Frederick. "Your heart is getting warm and glowy, again."

"Arthur..."

"Oops, sorry. Anyway, that is sort of what I had been thinking about."

Frederick looked at Arthur in surprise. "You have been thinking about Katelyn and I being at the pond!?"

"Uh huh."

"WHAT!?"

"Wait, no! Not that! The flowers! And, uh ... I mean..." Arthur looked over to Bors for help.

Bors smiled at Frederick. "What the young pup is trying to say is, it has been his opinion for some time, that once a Knight takes a wife and begins a family, he thought perhaps it might be preferable if the Knight were to live in a ... _ahem_ ... house ... rather thnt live in the Barracks."

"Why would I do that?"

"As Bors has just said, Frederick." Arthur replied, "To start a family."

"I can start a family in the Barracks! Knights have raised their families in the Barracks for centuries!"

"I thought it would be nicer to be in a house."

"Why?"

"Do you not want to live in a house?"

Frederick thought to himself for a moment. "I ... I have never thought about such a thing. The Knights have always lived in the Barracks."

"I purchased you a house."

"WHAT!?"

"I thought it would be nice for you to bring Katelyn home to a house, instead of the Barracks."

"Why ever would you do that!? That is a great expense!"

"Bors has said that I could. I used my personal funds to purchase the house. Bors said I could spend my money however I so choose. This is how I choose."

"You purchased me a house!?"

"I wish to do this for all of the Knights. When they purchase a wife to begin a family, I shall purchase each of them a house."

"Are you serious!?" Accolon exclaimed.

"Surely you jest!" added Sagremor.

"No, I do not jest." Arthur replied. "House Pendragon owns all of the land directly behind Castle Camelot and I wish to reserve that land for houses for the Knights and for the servants."

Bors looked at Arthur in surprise. "The servants? You never said anything about the servants. Not to mention that we have only one servant."

"Uh huh. I decided if I am going to do this for the Knights, I would also like to do this for the servants; for Cook and for any future servants. It is close and only a shout away, should the need arise. But this way, people can have a house of their own to raise their families. I have not talked to Cook, yet; but I have already had your house built this past week, Frederick."

"WHAT!?"

Then Arthur grinned at Bors. "I have also chosen a location for you and Deorwynn."

"WHAT!?"

Arthur turned and grinned at Accolon and Sagremor. "It is only a matter of time. And as for you two, whenever you decide to purchase a wife, I shall purchase your houses as well. This way you can better enjoy your wives and it would be nicer for them and it would be a better place for your families to live. And you can plant flower gardens for your wives, because I know that women like flowers. I think my mother would probably have liked flowers. That is what made me start thinking about this in the first place. That is why I asked Frederick if Katelyn liked flowers."

Sagremor looked at Arthur, incredulously. "You ... are a strange, strange young man."

Arthur grinned back at Bors, and was surprised to his eyes growing misty. "Bors? Is something wrong?"

"Oh ... I just recall saying those very same words to your father once, long ago. You are indeed your father's son."

"Is ... that a good thing?"

Bors smiled tenderly at Arthur. "In this instance, yes, young pup. That is a good thing."

Frederick looked at both Accolon and Sagremor. "I have a house."

Sagremor grinned at Frederick. "Then I suppose you have no reason to stop by the pond on your way back."

"Oh, I still plan to stop by the pond on the way back."

And everyone laughed.

*** *** ***

"Castle Camelot?" Accolon asked. "Did I hear you right?"

Bors chuckled. "Our illustrious High Prince has been desiring a new name for the fortress and for the royal lands surrounding."

"You mean House Pendragon? What is wrong with House Pendragon?"

"I like Camelot, better." Arthur replied.

"You seek to change the name of your House!?"

"No, no; we are House Pendragon. But that is just about me. This..." Arthur said, spreading his hands outward, "...is not about me. It is about the people. I wish to call all of this something which is not about me. So I came up with the name 'Camelot'."

"What does ... 'Camelot' mean?"

"It is a Celtic word I have learned in my language class with Alfred. It means: 'Truth, goodness and beauty reign here. Those are the three most important things to me."

Accolon and Sagremor and Frederick looked at each other. Then they looked back at Arthur. "How old are you, again?" Sagremor asked.

Arthur grinned. "This time I can answer you. Because Cook made plenty of cake! And according to the icing on my cake, I am..." Arthur stopped and looked at his cake. Which HAD been sitting on the table in plain view of all ... but had somehow magically relocated itself next to Bors. Arthur looked at Bors in horror. "YOU ATE MY CAKE!"

"No, I ate my cake."

"Those two cakes were supposed to be for ALL of us! You ate the one with my number '11' on it!!"

"Oh. Oops."

*** *** ***

After the others left, Frederick was the last to leave.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Frederick?"

"I ... I wished to wait until the others had gone. I wish to say 'Thank you'."

"Of course, Frederick. You are a good man with a good heart."

"I do not know how I can ever repay you for this. But if there is anything I can ever do..."

"There is, actually."

"Anything. You name it."

"Do you love Katelyn?"

"I do. But I think you already know that."

"I have never really cared for this whole system of ... Companions and Concubines and ... all of that."

"What do you not like about it? It is what we have always done."

"Do you plan to have ... Companions and Concubines?"

"No! Of course, not!"

"Why not?"

"I ... I ... I am not sure. But I think ... I think it is because I might be content with just Katelyn."

"EXACTLY!"

"Huh?"

"THAT is what you can do for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I wish to see if you can be content with just Katelyn. It seems to me ... that it how it is supposed to be."

"I do not understand."

"It is okay. I am not sure if I understand it yet, either. I am still working out the kinks."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"It is okay. I am not sure I know what I am talking about, either."

"I agree with Sagremor. You are a strange, strange young man."

Arthur grinned. "Bors said that is a good thing. Whatever that means."

Frederick grinned. "It does not matter what it means, Arthur. You are a great person and I am glad we are friends."

"Me too, Frederick. I cannot wait to meet Katelyn. She sounds really nice."

"I hope you like her." Frederick replied, somewhat nervously.

"Oh. Because you mean..."

"If you see her heart and you do not like her? Please do not tell me."

"It does not matter what I think, Frederick. If you like her? That is all that is important."

"I, uh ... I have noticed you never ask about my sister."

"Oh."

"It is okay, Arthur. I realized a few years ago you were ... uncomfortable around her."

"Oh. Uh ... I, uh..."

"It is okay, Arthur. It turns out you had good reason."

"Really?"

"Yes. She, uh ... she had sort of ... uh ... decided she wished to ... 'trade up' to a better husband. Apparently, she thought she could move into a higher caste by flirting with a noble. He became interested and ... so she tried to poison her husband."

"WHAT!?"

"Her husband survived, but ... it is all a big mess. He is trying to give her back to our father for a refund, but my father refuses and ... it is all a big mess."

"I am sorry to hear that. I did not know."

"Eh. I just thought you should know that ... you were right about my sister, all along."

"You were never that close with her."

"No. We were far apart in age and never got along well. I think she has always been more interested in 'climbing the caste ladder' than anything else. The man she poisoned was actually her second husband, you know."

"What happened to her first husband?"

"He died. Mysteriously."

"Oh."

Frederick sighed. "Sometimes ... I wish..."

"You wish what?"

"Oh, nothing."

"You wish there was no such thing as caste."

"Something like that."

"You are a Knight in training and are taking a lower peasant commoner for a wife. I think that is ... well ... I think that is an amazing thing."

Frederick grinned, sheepishly. "Katelyn is special. I do not see her as a peasant commoner."

"I know you do not, Frederick. And I am proud of you. Because you are doing it for the right reasons."

Frederick looked at Arthur in surprise. "Proud of me? For taking a peasant as a wife?"

"I am."

"You are a strange, strange, man. But you are my friend so, I shall let it pass."

Arthur chuckled as Frederick turned to leave. "Oh, and Frederick? Thanks for calling me Arthur. You are about the only person who I can get to do that."

"No, problem, my Prince."

"Ha, ha, very funny. Goodnight, Frederick."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

# Chapter 36

_One week later, late August_

"Conception."

Master Scribe Alfred paused his tutelage class lecture to his one and only royal student, and frowned at Arthur.

Who appeared to be daydreaming.

Again.

"Hello? Prince Arthur? Are you listening?"

Arthur continued looking out the window, lost in a daze.

"Prince Arthur? Please tell me you are not daydreaming, again. This is very important and a very delicate subject and I prefer to try and get through this without having to repeat myself. As I ... always ... seem ... to have to ... PRINCE ARTHUR!!!"

Arthur shook his head. "Huh? What?"

"Did you even hear a word I said!?"

"Yes, sir! Uh ... something about ... eggs ... and ... inception ... and ..."

"CONception, Prince Arthur!! CONception."

"Oh, right."

"Why can you not pay more attention!? This is a very delicate subject!"

"I am sorry, Alfred. You ... mentioned something about eggs ... and I started thinking about farms, and..."

"NOT ... chicken eggs, Prince Arthur! HUMAN eggs!"

Arthur laughed. "Humans do not lay eggs, Alfred. Uh ... do they? I mean, do we? Wait, SERIOUSLY!? Girls lay eggs!? I did not know that!"

Alfred slapped his hand over his eyes.

"Sorry, Alfred. You know how my mind sometimes ... wanders off ... sometimes..."

"Prince Arthur, I have been tutoring you since you were two years of age. Your mind does NOT wander off, sometimes. Your mind wanders off ... ALL THE TIMES!!"

Arthur sighed. "Sorry, Alfred." Arthur replied, looking back out the window. "It just seems so ... nice outside. Do you not think it is nice, outside? The sun is out and everything!"

Alfred threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, what is the use? Tonight is week's end. Class is dismissed for today."

*** *** ***

"I heard Alfred yelling at you, today." Frederick chuckled.

They were walking to the Marketplace to join Accolon and Sagremor as they always did the beginning night of week's end.

Arthur shrugged. "I got in trouble again for not paying attention."

"You get in trouble for that a lot, don't you?"

"I cannot help it! Sometimes I just start thinking about things. Alfred mentioned something about eggs ... I started thinking about farms ... hey, did you know that girls lay ... oh, never mind. I am sure you already know that, by now. Anyway, as I was saying..."

"Why were you thinking about farms?"

"I was just thinking about how farms ... and how they might be a good way to ... you know ... feed people."

Frederick chuckled. "That is what farms do. They produce food to feed people."

"EXACTLY!"

"You ... are a strange, strange man, Arthur."

"No, not just any people; I mean ... hungry people. People who cannot feed themselves or take care of themselves."

"I do not understand."

"Eh, I am still working out the kinks. Never mind. So how is life with Katelyn?"

Frederick sighed, happily. "I cannot tell you how wonderful life is, Arthur. I have never been so happy."

"Katelyn seems really happy, too. She is really nice and sweet. You are a fortunate man, Frederick."

"Really!?" Frederick exclaimed. "Do you really mean that!? You are not just saying that!?"

Arthur laughed. "If you are asking, do I think Katelyn has a good heart? Yes, Frederick. She has a true and beautiful heart. You are very fortunate to have found her."

Frederick sighed happily, again.

"I am surprised you are going to the Marketplace tonight." Arthur teased. "Once you leave Knight training, we never see you after that until the next morning."

Frederick grinned. "In truth, I did not want to go, but Katelyn insisted that I go. She said that is important to maintain my friendships."

"You could have brought her with you."

"I suggested that, but she thought it was best for the men to get together. She is planning to visit with Cook this evening."

"Cook seems to like Katelyn. They seem to get along well with each other."

"Which I am most grateful for, Arthur. It has only been one week, but I can already tell she misses the Princess. Katelyn was much more than a handmaiden to Guinevere; I think they were very close friends, as well. Did you know Katelyn has been her handmaiden since the Princess was a small child?"

"No, I did not know that. So ... what does a handmaiden do, exactly?"

"Comb hair ... prepare baths ... help dress..."

"What!? Why does she need help with all of that? Is the Princess ... afflicted in her mind or something?"

"No, no." Frederick chuckled. "Katelyn says the Princess is quite intelligent. It is just ... that is how it is with royal families and Princesses and all. Apparently."

"I do not understand. Why do women need help to dress themselves? Why would they need help combing their hair? We do not need help to dress ourselves or comb our hair."

Just then, Bors came up alongside them and joined with them. "Sorry I am late. I was ... delayed."

Arthur grinned at Bors. "You have bathed, again. Is Deorwynn going to be at the Marketplace tonight?"

"She ... mentioned ... something ... about possibly being there, yes. Mind your own business, young pup."

Arthur laughed. "Frederick was just telling me how girls need help to dress themselves."

Bors raised an eyebrow at Frederick. "Excuse me?"

"Actually..." Frederick chuckled, "...we were discussing Katelyn's prior duties as a handmaiden and what her duties had entailed."

"Ah. Now I understand." Bors replied. "Well, you may be surprised to know, young pup, that this service is not limited to only the women."

"Really!?" Arthur asked in surprise. "Men help dress the Princess, too!?"

"NO! I meant ... that in most all other royal houses, and even in most noble houses, the Prince has his own manservant to help him with such things."

Arthur immediately stopped walking and looked at Bors, incredulously. "Surely you jest."

"Nay, I do not jest. This is common practice among ... _ahem_ ... most Houses. Yours being the only exception."

"A royal prince ... a man!? Needs help to dress himself!?"

"Oh, yes."

"Ewww!"

Bors sighed. "My Prince, men of battle do NOT say 'ewww'. Especially a High Prince!"

"You mean 'Princes', such as the ones who need men to dress them? Is that the kind of Princes you are talking about?"

"Uh..."

"Accolon! Sagremor!" Frederick called out in greeting as they had also just arrived at the Marketplace. "When did you two dogs arrive?"

"We arrived earlier." Sagremor chuckled. "Do you know there are more women than men who visit the Marketplace?"

"That is because there are more women than men." Bors replied. "Battles have a tendency to decline the male population."

"I must confess I find the abundance of women to be most ... satisfying." Sagremor grinned.

Accolon smiled and nodded. "'Tis a shame there are so many. It does seem most overwhelming at times."

"I do not understand." said Arthur. "I mean, I understand about ratio and that many men have died in battle, but ... we have not had a battle in many years. Why have there been no battles?"

"It has been quiet for years, that is true." Bors replied. "It has been my surmise that since the day we marched all of our Armed Forces across the land to Cornwall, the great size of our forces had been seen by many and has proven to be a healthy deterrent."

"Why did you send all those forces, Bors? Just to capture Duke Gorlois? Why would you need so many?"

"For the very reason I have just given you, young pup. Vortigern had just been overthrown and your father was new to the throne. It is not uncommon during such transitions for other kingdoms to ... 'test' the fortitude and might of the new High King. This show of force was intended to send a warning to others."

"Really? That is why you did it? To warn the other kings not to mess with my father?"

"It has brought us many years of peace, has it not?"

"How long do you think it will last?"

Bors sighed. "In truth, it should not have lasted this long. I had expected at least two or three attempts to overtake the throne by now; especially with the known condition of your father. We are on borrowed time, young pup. Be assured, we shall be attacked while you are still young. They dare not wait for you to grow into manhood and take the crown. The time for usurpers to attack, is now."

"Am I ready, Bors?"

"Ready for ... what, exactly?"

"To fight in battle?"

Bors sighed. "You are skilled, young pup, that is certain; few can match your sword. But you are still young and lack strength."

"What I might lack in strength I make up with quickness. I think I am ready."

"Of course you do."

"I am no longer a child, Bors."

"You are but eleven years of age. Perhaps in another year or two ..."

"I am ready now, Bors. Please let me fight. This is our kingdom. I have proven myself with the sword. I deserve to defend our kingdom as much as the next man."

"We shall discuss this at a later time, young pup. This is week's end. We are here to put our minds at rest from such concerns. Let us enjoy this evening without..."

"Your mind never rests from these concerns, Bors. I know you; it is about all you think about, most of the time. You just wish to put me aside so as not to see harm come to me. But I have love for this kingdom, just as anyone else; and I have the right to defend the kingdom, just as anyone else."

Bors stopped walking and turned to face Arthur, while crossing his arms.

"I am serious, Bors. I am ready. Allow me to fight if we were to be attacked."

Suddenly! In the blink of an eye, Bors whipped out his sword and lunged towards Arthur's chest.

Just as suddenly, Arthur whipped out his sword and blocked Bors' attack with a parry, followed by a riposte ending with Arthur's sword stopped at Bors' neck.

Bors looked at Arthur in surprise.

"I am ready, Bors. Let me fight."

Bors shook his head. "You are not ready, young pup. Look down."

Arthur looked down and saw Bors' long knife at his stomach. Then he looked back up at Bors. "I would have had your head before you cut me."

"I still would have cut you even while you took my head. You may have taken my life, but I have also taken yours. You are not ready."

Arthur sighed as he withdrew and sheathed his sword. "That is not fair, Bors. You are a Battlemaster. Any other man, I would have taken."

"Perhaps you would have, perhaps you would not. You are not ready."

"Okay, Bors; honest answer and do not think to lie to me, I can see it." Arthur turned his head and looked at Accolon and Sagremor and Frederick. "These three are ready to fight. Even Frederick shall be a Knight, given two or three more years. Yet, would they have fared better than me, just now?"

Bors looked at Arthur for a long time, with a hint of anger and frustration in his eyes. Finally he growled at Arthur. "Curse this gift of yours, young pup."

"Thank you." Arthur smiled. "I shall take that as a 'yes'; I may fight in the next battle."

Bors glared at Arthur and held a giant finger, right up to Arthur's face. "If anything happens to you ... so help me, I swear...". But Bors never finished his words. He continued holding his finger in Arthur's face for a long time. Finally, in a huff, he turned and walked away.

Arthur turned and looked at the others. "Well, that went better than I had expected."

Sagremor shook his head at Arthur. "This is no light matter, Arthur. I agree with Bors. If something were to ever happen to you?"

Accolon nodded in agreement. "Arthur, you do not understand how important you are or how much you are needed. We cannot afford anything to happen to you."

"I intend to fight alongside all of you. It is only right. And ... it is my right."

"I disagree." said Frederick. "Your greatest desire is to help the hurting and benefit the people of this nation and see this nation come together as one. You forfeit that right. The people need you, more than you need to fight. You are the one man..."

"No." Arthur objected. "I am not the 'one man'. I am part of a whole. And I intend to function as part of the whole. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go catch up with Bors and see if I can ... somehow ... get him 'un-angry' with me."

Sagremor snorted. "Good luck."

After Arthur ran off after Bors, Sagremor turned around towards Frederick and pointed his own finger at him.

"What!? What did I do!?"

"You..." Sagremor scowled, "...did you put these thoughts into his head?"

"NO! OF COURSE, NOT! I think he should stay out of the fighting as much as you! I would NEVER suggest he do such a foolish thing!"

"Frederick, you are barely ready yourself to fight in battle. Accolon and I shall be on the front lines with the lead troops. The rest of the Knights-in-Training shall remain towards the rear."

"Where Arthur should also remain; I understand, Sagremor. And I agree."

"If we are plunged into battle, Frederick, you shall keep watch over him. That shall be your primary responsibility in battle, do you understand me?"

"I understand, Sagremor, and I could not agree with you, more. You do not have to tell me twice; it shall be done. He shall be protected. A sword shall have to pass through me before it reaches Arthur."

Sagremor gave Frederick a smirk. Then he tweaked Frederick on the nose. "And don't you be stupid, either, Frederick. You now have a pretty wife to come home to."

"Me? Be stupid? Perish the thought."

Accolon shook his head as he looked at Sagremor. "We should probably go now and tell Katelyn to start digging her husband's grave."

"Ha, ha; very funny."

Accolon and Sagremor both chuckled and put their arms around Frederick, their brother in arms. "Come on; let us catch up with Bors before he eats everything."

*** *** ***

After dinner and a couple of tankards of ale, tensions lowered as talk turned once more to women and more 'pleasanter' subjects.

Such as Deorwynn, who came into Bors' eatery looking for Bors. Deorwynn had long blonde hair and was a little taller than most women; which was just fine with Bors, who stood head and shoulders above even the tallest man. Of course, Deorwynn looked very pretty in her long hunter green dress, complimented with a low bust line which did little to hide her rather notable 'buxom' features. The moment Deorwynn entered, it brought a huge smile to Bors' face. He practically leaped out of his seat to rush over to her, and he greeted her with a kiss.

The other men always marveled when they saw Bors in her presence; for she magically seemed to hold him in the palm of her hand. Bors and Deorwynn whispered to each other of some secret rendezvous point later that night, and then kissed each other again as Deorwynn turned to leave. However, not before turning to bow towards Arthur out of respect and then waving at the others.

After she had left, Bors returned to the table and stood by them, with an ever wider grin on his face.

"Okay." Sagremor grinned. "Wagers on Bors taking a wife before the Fall rains are now being accepted."

"Nay." Accolon chuckled. "The Fall rains are much too far away. It is the end of summer. I say, before Fall arrives."

Frederick looked up at Bors as he remained standing beside them. "Which is it, Battlemaster? The beginning of Fall or after the Fall rains?"

Bors shook his head and merely grinned at all of them.

"Uh oh." Sagremor laughed. "I think we may all be in error. Something you wish to say to us, Battlemaster?"

Bors shrugged and pulled out a small pouch from behind his belt. He then tossed the pouch into the air few times to let the others hear the jingling of gold coins.

"BORS!!!" Arthur exclaimed with delight.

"Indeed." Bors smiled. "Deorwynn has just informed me her father has accepted my bid. It has taken some haggling for the past several days, but the Brideprice has finally been agreed upon. This very night I shall be meeting with her father to complete her purchase."

The others instantly jumped to their feet to begin congratulating Bors upon his new acquisition.

"She seemed really happy." Arthur smiled.

"Indeed." Bors grinned. "We have arranged to ... celebrate, this evening, after the purchase is compete."

"OOOH!!!" exclaimed the three older men.

"Really!?" Arthur exclaimed, eagerly. "How are you going to celebrate!? Perhaps we may invite Deorwynn to the castle for a celebration party!"

Bors coughed. "Actually, young pup, we were considering something more ... private in mind."

"Oh, do not worry; it will be just us!"

"Uh ... a little more private, than that."

"Oh." Arthur thought to himself for a moment. "OH!"

Bors grinned sheepishly with a slight blush.

"Bors! Your heart is all warm and glowy! I know what your intents are."

The others burst out laughing.

"Arthur..." Bors growled. "What did I say about..."

"But they are YOUR intents, not mine!"

"Arthur..."

"Sorry. I shall strive to keep what I see ... to myself."

"So, Bors?" chuckled Accolon. "Do you get to bring her home, tonight?"

Bors nodded with a smile. "After her sale is completed, Deorwynn belongs to me. Alfred has already drawn up the papers. Yes, I shall be bringing her home with me this very night."

"Really?" Arthur asked. "That soon? I have not even purchased a house for you, yet!"

"Thank you, young pup, but the Barracks shall be fine. Now, if you would excuse me, I wish to go and ... clean my apartment. Perhaps I shall see you at First Meal. Or ..." Bors grinned, "...perhaps not."

Everyone chuckled as Bors turned and quickly left the eatery.

After Bors had gone, Frederick noticed Arthur seemed to be frowning while deep in thought. "Something troubling you, Arthur?"

Arthur shrugged. "I am not sure. Do you not think this is ... uneventful?"

"What? What is uneventful?"

"You know ... Bors purchasing a wife and all; and then to just ... bring Deorwynn home like that? Does that seem right to you?"

"I do not understand. What are you talking about?"

"I am unsure, but ... does it not seem as if ... purchasing a wife ... is little more than purchasing ... a horse?"

Sagremor grinned. "If Deorwynn is a horse, then she is a very well-endowed horse."

"Sagremor!" Arthur exclaimed, aghast. "That is no way to speak of Deorwynn!"

"What? She is a woman. Bors has purchased a fine looking woman. He is a very lucky man, if you ask me."

Accolon clapped Arthur on the back. "And may I just say, Arthur, you outdid yourself in choosing a magnificent filly for Bors."

"She certainly has ample qualifications, that is for certain." Sagremor chuckled. "Perhaps I shall hire you, Arthur, to find me such a woman with such ... bounteous attributes."

"THAT IS NOT WHY I CHOSE HER!" Arthur exclaimed in horror. "I chose Deorwynn because she has a good and kind and generous heart!"

"Oh, her attributes are certainly generous, my Prince." Accolon laughed. "More than generous."

Arthur groaned. "Come on, you guys! That is most certainly NOT what I was looking for in a woman!"

"You have a most excellent eye, your Majesty." Sagremor teased, raising his tankard in a toast. "To the High Prince! And his obvious appreciation for abounding..."

"SAGREMOR!!"

"What?" he grinned. "Bors has purchased himself a woman. Let us rejoice for him. I do not see what the problem is."

"It is just ... it is all so ... I do not know. It just does not seem right to me. Let me think on it a little more."

"Uh, oh." Frederick grinned. "I believe our illustrious Prince is coming up with yet another one of his most unique and unusual of ideas."

"It just seems it needs to be more ... special."

Sagremor looked at Arthur, shaking his head. "He purchased a woman. What is so 'special' about that? Granted it is a major expense, but so is a horse. Why would a woman be any more special? They each serve their own purpose, do they not?"

Arthur sighed. "I ... am thinking on it. I just need to work out the kinks."

Sagremor smirked at Arthur. "You ... are a strange, strange man."

*** *** ***

After they finished their meal and had their fill of ale, the foursome stepped outside of the eatery and began looking around at the bustling Marketplace.

"I have to hand it to Bors." Frederick said. "He has the best eatery in the Marketplace."

"Bors pays the bills..." said Arthur, "...but his older brother Brock does the cooking and runs the eatery. Bors is more of a silent partner."

"They seem to be doing well, judging by the looks of things." noted Accolon. "There is always a line waiting to get in."

Sagremor nodded. "It is very generous of the Battlemaster to give us our own reserved area in the back."

"Brock even gives us our own private table servants." Accolon agreed. "He is loyal to the Knighthood, even to this day."

"Brock was a Knight!?" exclaimed Frederick. "I never knew that!"

Sagremor nodded. "He was grievously injured in the battle which regained the throne from Vortigern. That is why he limps. Many men owe Brock their lives."

"I suppose that would explain why Brock has such a large clientele of soldiers." Frederick replied.

"Indeed." Sagremor nodded. "The men are loyal to Brock, as well. A large portion of his clientele shall always be assured."

"Well I am certainly loyal to Brock's cooking." Frederick grinned. "I think he is nearly as good as Cook!"

The four looked at each other for a moment.

"Nah." They all said in unison with a grin.

They started walking around the brightly torchlit nighttime Marketplace, observing the hundreds of merchant tents and tables. Arthur stopped when he observed a noble man directing his 'manservant' to help him try on a new black satin coat he was considering purchasing.

Arthur began shaking his head in disgust. "I cannot believe ... I mean ... a manservant!? What man needs a manservant!? That just does not seem right."

Sagremor clapped Arthur on the back. "Such is the life of luxury of nobles and kings." Then Sagremor smacked Accolon in the arm. "Accolon, my good man, would you be so kind as to help our Royal High Prince change his britches?"

"WHAT!?" Arthur exclaimed.

Accolon turned and faced Arthur with a wide grin. "Why, certainly, my good man. Your Majesty, would you have me dress you here publicly or ... would you prefer some place more ... private?"

"WHAT!!?"

Sagremor and Frederick burst out laughing.

Accolon bowed before Arthur at the waist with a grin. "Your humble manservant awaits your command, my liege."

Arthur scowled at Accolon, and then shoved Accolon backwards, causing him to fall cackling to the ground. Arthur then turned around and frowned at Frederick. "The day I see a horse fly, will be the day I take on a ... 'manservant'."

Frederick and Sagremor began snickering.

"That is another thing that is ... not right. People have too many servants. They have a servant for everything!"

Sagremor winked at Frederick. "I do believe his Majesty seeks to change the entire world!" he said, mockingly.

"I am serious!" Arthur protested. "I mean, I can see hiring a cook, if a cook is needed; but only if they are paid a salary. Better yet ... only is the cook enjoys cooking. I do not think a servant ... a PAID servant ... should ever be forced to do anything they would not already enjoy doing."

Frederick smiled at Arthur, shaking his head. "You, Arthur Pendragon, are a strange, strange man. Have I ever told you that?"

"But not even a PAID servant could ever possibly enjoy ... I mean, seriously!? Changing someone's clothes!? Combing someone's hair!? Who, in their right mind, would EVER want to do that!?"

"Actually..." Frederick chuckled, "...Katelyn has told me she loved brushing Princess Guinevere's hair. She did it all the time, and always because she enjoyed doing it."

"That does not make any sense to me."

"Katelyn has told me the Princess Guinevere's hair is a deep shiny black color; so black it almost seems blue."

Arthur raised his eyebrow. "Blue-black hair? Now that is strange." Arthur snorted. "Can you imagine? Blue-black hair? Who would want blue-black hair!? That is just...", Arthur began shaking his head, "...strange."

Frederick shrugged. "Well, Katelyn said she loved brushing the Princess' hair, so ... obviously, some people enjoy doing that."

"I cannot understand that."

Accolon shrugged. "I certainly cannot understand a man desiring to comb a man's hair. But I suppose, I can sort of understand a woman combing another woman's hair. My mother once told me she and her sister always used to comb each other's hair. It is just something ... women like to do, apparently."

"That makes no sense to me." Arthur said. "I just cannot imagine that."

"I like combing Katelyn's hair." Frederick grinned.

Arthur, Accolon and Sagremor all looked very oddly at Frederick.

"What?"

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "Who would EVER want to do that!?"

Frederick grinned. "Do not knock it until you try it."

Arthur shivered. "I cannot even picture that. I DON'T want to picture that. That is just ... strange."

"Now, I can picture...", Sagremor said thoughtfully, tapping his finger to his chin, "...women dressing women. THAT ... I can picture."

"WHAT!?"

"Hmmm..." Sagremor said, thinking to himself. "Women ... dressing ... women..."

Strangely, Arthur noted the three older men grew curiously silent for a long time.

"You guys are glowy, again."

"Arthur..." Sagremor growled.

"What?"

*** *** ***

A short time later as they continued walking around the Marketplace, Sagremor elbowed Accolon as he nodded towards a group of women who were waving at them. "Ah, look over yonder; I do believe I see a band of fair maidens in distress. Shall we go and see how we may alleviate their distress?"

Accolon and Sagremor bowed towards each other and then turned on their heels and started walking towards the group of giggling women.

Frederick chuckled as he shook his head. "You two scoundrels are dogs if ever there were any."

Sagremor called back out to them as they were walking away. "We shall meet up with you perhaps in an hour or so. Or perhaps longer."

Accolon likewise called out, "Do not send reinforcements if we delay! There look to be many damsels which require our assistance!"

Arthur looked at Frederick with a look of disgust. "Is it just me? Or is that all that those two can ever think about?"

Frederick sighed as he looked up at the moon's position in the sky. "It is getting late. Perhaps we should consider returning back."

Arthur grinned. "You miss Katelyn."

"You have no idea."

"You are glowy."

"Arthur..."

# Chapter 37

_Four months later, early December_

It was a small battle. One which lasted less than a day. A northern king named Terrel had sent a small ground army of three thousand troops; not to invade the High King, but to determine Arthur's readiness for a possible larger full-scale assault. And he had sent his small army purposefully during the midst of a powerful and rainy thunderstorm.

The northern King Terrel was quite willing to sacrifice all three thousand men in order to learn if it was even tactically feasible to steal the High Crown for himself.

It was only a test.

But King Terrel quickly learned during his 'test invasion', that the overwhelming power and tenacious might of the skilled Armed Forces under the infamous Battlemaster of House Pendragon were more than battle ready. They were nigh invincible.

Terrel's troops were wiped out in an hour. It took the rest of the rainy day to track and hunt down the remaining escaping soldiers who had fled for their lives into the Great Forest.

Being that the main battle had been won so quickly by the front lines, and that Arthur had been kept to the rear, the eleven year old Prince never got a chance to see action on that rainy day. Thus, seeing as how the heavy fighting was over, Bors reluctantly permitted Arthur to lead one of over a hundred small teams into the forest to give chase.

It was during their relentless pursuit of their enemy during the December downpour, when Arthur managed to see more this his fair share of action. For it seemed that behind nearly every tree and hidden beneath every bush was another enemy soldier lying in wait.

Arthur never did have time to 'evaluate' his emotions after his first kill; as sometimes that can eat at a man. For Arthur was far too busy defending himself against men leaping out at him from muddy shadows at every turn. For it turned out that nearly a third of the three thousand men had turned panic and run into the forest.

But being inside the shadowy and rainy forest gave the enemy new courage and hope, for it seemed to help even out the odds somewhat.

Of course, they had greatly underestimated the great skills of the legendary Battlemaster's men. By the time the roving bands flushed out the last of Terrel's fighters, less than 200 of Bors' troops had been injured and only 27 dead. Which was as nothing compared to three thousand of Terrel's fighters whose bodies were strewn in the mud.

When King Terrel received word of how quickly his ground troops had been defeated, most of them in under an hour, Terrel shrugged and decided that the matter was no longer worth pursuing and casually went on about his way.

Arthur, himself, was among the 200 injured. But he had nearly been counted as among the 27 dead. For Arthur was young and inexperienced. Though he was quick and was skilled with the sword, Arthur had not yet learned to think three-dimensionally. He was never once surprised by an enemy ambush and cleanly took out each and every enemy threat. Arthur was carefully observant in all directions all around him.

Except up.

For as he passed through a thick grouping of trees, hidden high above in the branches was a very large man with a very sharp axe.

The attacker dropped from above with his heavy axe, poised to split Arthur's skull in two. But at the very last moment, Arthur was pushed out of the way by a very brave Knight in training, willing to sacrifice his life to save Arthur's.

That valiant man's name was Frederick.

# Chapter 38

_Three days later_

The Master Physician came out of surgery to meet with those anxiously awaiting.

Among those waiting were Arthur, whose left leg was heavily bandaged and in a full-length splint; for the heavy battle axe had glanced off of Frederick's cracked skull and ran itself down the side of Arthur's leg - before another nearby Knight-in-Training named Percival removed the axeman's head.

Bors and Accolon and Sagremor were there, along with all of the young Knights-in-Training; none of whom had suffered serious injury.

And Katelyn. Who for the past long three days of waiting had become a nervous weeping wreck. Only Cook had managed a small degree of success in comforting her, holding her much of the time in her arms.

When the Master Physician finally came out, there was a grim look on his face. "I am sorry." he said, shaking his head. "I have done all that I can."

As the color drained from Katelyn's already pale face, it was Arthur who asked from his mat on the ground, "Is he..."

"He is alive." the Master Physician replied.

Katelyn gasped at the words with renewed hope.

"However..." the doctor continued, "...as you all know, there has been severe trauma to his head. And to his brain. I cannot predict ... if Frederick shall ever fully recover. Nor can I predict to what extent his recovery might be. It could be months, it could be years, it could be never. I simply do not know."

"But my husband is alive!?" Katelyn asked, weeping.

"Yes. He sleeps. I have given him herbs and drugs which shall keep him sleeping for many days or, if need be, many weeks. There is tremendous swelling in his brain. I cannot perform repairs to his skull area until the swelling recedes. Until then, he must remain asleep. Once I am able to close up his skull ... well ... only time will tell. That is all I can do; I can do no more."

"Please, Master Physician." Katelyn sobbed. "May I..."

The doctor nodded his head, giving his permission for Katelyn to enter. But just as Katelyn began to go through the curtain, the Master Physician touched her arm with his hand. "He shall require much care."

Katelyn looked at the Master Physician for a moment, and then nodded. _"Thank you."_ she whispered. And then Katelyn disappeared behind the heavy curtain.

"Should I go with her?" Cook asked.

The Master Physician shook his head. "Give her some time, first."

Bors put his hand on the Master Physician's shoulder. "This is never easy for either of us, old friend."

The Master Physician patted the back of Bors' hand, and then looked down at Arthur who was lying on his mat in tears. "Battles are not so glorious, are they?"

Arthur shook his head as the tears began streaming down his face.

"Remember this, young king to be."

Arthur nodded, and began to sob.

# ~ Sister ~

# Chapter 39

_Three weeks later, late January_

It was near midnight on week's end, when Bors woke with a start at a loud pounding on the door of his new house.

His wife's eyes widened in fear as Bors leaped out of bed. "Husband!?" Deorwynn pleaded, reaching for him.

Bors quickly kissed his finger and touched her lips, before he warned "Stay here." Then he grabbed his nearby sword and raced towards the front door. With sword drawn he threw open his door, to see two of his Knights-in-Training staring at Bors in alarm; Tristan and his older brother Aggravaine.

"REPORT!" Bors barked.

The primary reason they were looking at Bors in alarm, was not because the giant man was facing them armed with a sword, but because he was wearing no clothes.

"REPORT!" Bors barked again, angrily.

"Battlemaster!" sputtered the younger Tristan. "We ... we have brought you news!"

"INVADERS!?"

"N-n-no, Battlemaster! W-w-e overheard a conversation in t-t-he Marketplace a-a-and w-w-we t-t-thought you should know what words were spoken!"

"NO INVADERS!?"

"N-n-no, Battlemaster! A-a-all clear!"

Bors relaxed and lowered his sword. Then he growled at Tristan.

"W-w-we would not have b-b-bothered you, Battlemaster, if w-w-we did not think it was important!"

"Why do you stutter, Tristan!?" he sneered.

"B-b-because, Battlemaster! Y-y-you are ... are ... n-n-naked!"

Bors growled again. "How long have you been living in the Barracks, again?"

"S-s-sorry, Battlemaster. It is just ... we are unaccustomed..."

Just then Deorwynn came up behind Bors holding a large fur robe in her hands. "Husband?" she asked again, worriedly.

Bors turned his head to the side and growled at her. "All clear."

The two Knights-in-Training heard Deorwynn breathe a sigh of relief. Then, while still standing behind Bors, she slapped his bare back. "Do not growl at me, husband." Which brought a slight smile to Bors' face. Deorwynn then leaned up towards his ear with a mischievous smile and said, "Unless I give you reason to."

Which brought a much bigger grin to his face.

Bors then set his sword to the side of the door and took the large robe from her hands. While he was putting it on to cover himself, the two young Knights-in-Training were shocked to see Deorwynn as she turned and walked away from them towards the bedroom. She was wearing a covering, but it didn't cover much.

Bors looked at the two the men whose mouths were sitting on the ground. "Put your eyeballs back in your sockets, boys; that is my wife you ogle."

The two men instantly closed their eyes and turned to look the other way. "Sorry, Battlemaster!"

"Do you see what you are keeping me from? This had better be important."

"Yes, Battlemaster!" Tristan replied, nervously. "As I said, we were in the Marketplace, where we overheard two servants speaking."

"Get to it, Tristan!" Bors barked. "Why is this thing important?"

Tristan gulped. "Battlemaster, one of the two servants ... claimed to be a servant of ... Gorlois!"

"WHAT!?"

"It is true, Battlemaster!" said Aggravaine. "We both heard him say it! He was behind one of the tents making secret arrangements for a delivery. We thought it strange and approached them to the side, so that we might pay heed to their conversation."

"Did you learn of his whereabouts!?"

"We think so, Battlemaster! It is a house beyond our border. We know the location."

"Which border?"

"The western border of King Eldon of House Cadwell."

Bors frowned. "House Cadwell is no friend of House Pendragon."

"Surely that shall not stop us!?"

"Nay. That shall not stop us; we shall go in secret. I must speak with High Prince Arthur at once. Thank you. You did well. Speak of this to no one; we dare not alert House Cadwell of our presence in his lands."

"There is ... more, Battlemaster."

"Speak."

"The servant of Gorlois spoke of ... a daughter."

"And?"

"The servant said the daughter belonged to Gorlois and..."

"Out with it, already!"

"And the mother was said to be ... uh ... Igraine."

"WHAT!?"

"Was that not the name of..."

"The mother of Arthur!" Bors gasped. "Surely you heard wrongly!"

"No! Those were the words of the servant! That is all that we know."

"Are you certain of this!?"

"The servant seemed certain, Battlemaster. He was speaking about selling Gorlois' daughter to the merchant without his knowledge. They were bargaining for price."

Bors shook his head. "How can this be!? Gorlois had murdered Igraine not long after her capture!"

Tristan looked at Aggravaine. "It is our thought, Battlemaster, that perhaps the mother of Arthur is still alive."

"SPEAK OF THIS TO NO ONE!!"

"Yes, Battlemaster!! Of course, Battlemaster!"

"Should you hear of anything else, do not hesitate to inform me. Even if it is the middle of the night such as now."

"Of course, Battlemaster!" The two Knights-in-Training clapped their hands to their chests and turned to leave.

After Bors closed the door, he walked in to where Deorwynn was waiting for him.

"I heard, husband."

"I am sorry, wife; I must go. This is of utmost importance."

"Of course, husband! I understand. Do you really think the mother of High Prince Arthur is still alive!?"

"Nay; it does not seem possible. Igraine's body had been found."

"Perhaps it was not Igraine! You told me there were only bones!"

"Uther seemed certain it was Igraine."

"Uther is not well."

"He was well enough at the time. I do not know why, but Uther seemed certain it was Igraine."

"Please come back to me safe, Bors."

Bors smiled and walked over to kiss her. "Fear not, wife; you give me something to return to."

*** *** ***

Bors quickly returned to the castle and strode in through the front main doors. He was surprised to see that the door was open to the connecting receiving room. As he entered the room, he saw that a fire had been lit in the main fire hearth, and that a man was sitting near the fire in a large cushioned chair. Bors was startled to see that is was Uther, having just returned from one of his trips to ... no one knew where.

"Your Majesty!" Bors exclaimed. "I did not know you had returned!"

"Hello, Bors." Uther replied quietly, staring into the fire. "How is Arthur?"

"He ... uh ... well ... your son was recently injured in a battle."

"WHAT!?" Uther exclaimed as he instantly jumped to his feet. "How badly injured!?"

"It is only a scrape; he shall be fine and walking again, soon."

"Who attacked us!?"

"It was Terrel."

"WHAT!? TERREL!?"

"It was but a small skirmish in order to test our might. I do not expect Terrel to try anything again for some time."

"Are you certain Arthur shall recover!?"

"But for a long scar on his leg, the Master Physician said he shall be as good as new."

"How many did we lose?"

"27 brave men lost their lives. 200 were injured."

Uther sighed. "I ... do not like losing men."

"I did not think you cared."

Uther gave Bors a hard cold glance, and then sat back down in his chair. "I care."

"We have it all under control, your Majesty."

"Stop calling me that, Bors. You know I care not for titles."

"Your mind seems ... sharp, this night."

Uther shook his head. "It comes and it goes. Sometimes I am uncertain where I even am."

"You should not be traveling the kingdom, alone. You should have men with you."

"And have them see how I am much of the time? I cannot think, Bors. My mind ... it will not let me."

"Indeed, this is the first conversation we have shared in some time."

"I only wished ... to return..."

"...to see if your son is well. Yes, Arthur is fine. He has proven himself in battle and shall be a great warrior leader."

"How old is he, now?"

"He shall be twelve years of age, this summer."

"He must be getting big."

"Arthur looks more like you every day. You would be proud."

"I am an unworthy father, Bors."

"Agreed. You are an unworthy king."

Uther smiled. "I have always appreciated your truthfulness with me, Bors. I appreciate it now, no less."

"Shall I kick your royal behind?"

Uther chuckled. "If you think it would help. But I am afraid, old friend, that even your mighty foot cannot purge this sickness from me."

"Perhaps the Master Physician..."

"I have already spoken with the Master Physician. There is nothing he can do."

Bors sighed and looked down at the floor. "I am truly sorry to hear that. More than you know."

"I would ask something of you, old friend."

"Of course. You are my king."

"I cannot ask this of you as your king; for you would refuse my request. I can only ask this of a friend."

"I am listening."

"Take my life, Bors."

"WHAT!?"

"While there is still clarity in my mind, I wish you to take my life."

"I CANNOT!"

"Please, Bors. I cannot rule. I cannot father. I cannot do anything. I am unable to take my own life, as most of the time my mind is not right. But I ask you now, take this breath from me, so that my son may rule in my stead. It is better this way."

"Uther, I cannot..."

"I beg of you, Bors; I ... I ..."

And then once more, a haze began coming over Uther as his eyes began to cloud.

"Uther! Listen to me! I have news!"

"I am trying, Bors. What news?"

Bors sighed. He didn't want to tell Uther about finding Gorlois, for Uther was in no condition to go up against the evil duke. For Uther's own safety, Bors chose not to mention anything about Gorlois. But he thought Uther should at least know about a possible daughter of Igraine. "Uther, hear me, while you still can. A girl has been found. There is a possibility, however remote ... that this girl may be a daughter of ... Igraine."

Uther's eyes widened in surprise. "A ... daughter? Regan had ... two daughters; born of Gorlois."

"I know of them, Uther; you have before told me. We do not know of the whereabouts of Elaine, but for what you have told us; that she was placed with some other family, of whom we know nothing about. The other daughter, we do not know her fate."

"You believe this girl may be Regan's other daughter?"

"Perhaps. We do not know."

The haze was growing heavy over Uther and his words were beginning to slur and stumble. But before he disappeared into his mind completely, he managed to get out two words. "Find ... daughter."

Bors clapped his fist to his chest and nodded. "It shall be done."

And then in a matter of moments, the awful glaze once again filled Uther's eyes. And Uther was gone.

Bors stood in place for a long time, watching as Uther became confused and unsure where he was. Finally Bors walked over to Uther, and helped him sit in his chair. Then Bors turned and left to head upstairs towards Arthur's room.

*** *** ***

KNOCK. KNOCK. "Young pup? Awaken, it is Bors."

"I am awake." Arthur called out from his bed.

Bors opened the door to Arthur's suite and saw him lying on his bed, with tears in his eyes.

"You still grieve for Frederick?"

"It was all my fault!"

Bors sighed and decided against a reply; for they had discussed it many times, but Arthur was very much determined to take full responsibility and all of the blame for what had happened.

"I have important news, young pup."

"Is it about Frederick!?"

"I am sorry, nothing has changed; he still remains asleep."

"What is the news, Bors?"

"We believe we may have located Gorlois."

"WHAT!?"

And Bors began explaining everything he had just learned from Tristan and Aggravaine.

"So you think this ... 'daughter' ... might be my mother's ... second daughter?"

"We can only surmise. We do not know the whereabouts of the first daughter, but the last we knew she was safe with another family."

"Elaine. We at least know her name is Elaine. But the second daughter ... we do not even know her name."

"Or ... this may yet even be a third daughter of Igraine. This is all only based upon the words of a disloyal servant, seeking to sell the girl out from under his master. Perhaps he was merely lying about Igraine only to fetch a higher price."

"That is not possible, Bors, and you know it. My mother was not with Gorlois long enough to bear a third daughter."

"Perhaps if the body we found..."

"No, Bors. My father is certain the body he found was that of my mother. I have seen it in his heart."

"If this daughter was born of your mother..."

"I know, Bors. I have always known I have two sisters out there ... somewhere. This must be the other one. When do you leave?"

"I shall take Accolon and Sagremor with me and leave immediately. If we ride fast, we can reach the house of Gorlois before dawn."

"I wish I could go with you."

"You are not fit to ride, young pup."

"Bors, I want Gorlois as much as you do. But I remind you, we are not on good terms with King Eldon. Killing one of his subjects would only serve to start a war. Only a High King has the authority to cross his borders and execute justice."

"Can we not at least bring Gorlois back?"

"No, we dare not. I shall send a messenger to King Eldon and ask permission. But until then, all we dare hope to get away with is retrieving my sister, who, in effect, belongs to me. Surely King Eldon cannot find fault with that. But as for Gorlois?"

"I understand."

"Bors? I am very serious about this. You cannot lay a hand on Gorlois. Not until I first hear back from King Eldon. Perhaps I can convince Eldon to allow us to ... 'interrogate' Gorlois. I shall be sure to accompany my message with a large tribute of gold."

"May I be in charge of the interrogation?"

Arthur smiled. "I am sure my father may also wish to participate in the 'questioning' of Gorlois, as well. But that is to be determined at a latter time. In truth, Gorlois is no longer a threat to us. His station has been revoked and he has no title. He is as nothing."

"HE KILLED YOUR MOTHER!"

"You do not think I know that!? Bors, I shall not go to war with Eldon. I have no desire to lose another man like Frederick, just because of a vendetta."

"Young pup, what happened to Frederick was unfortunate, to be sure; but it was a casualty of battle. It could have just as easily been any other man who first passed under that tree."

"I do not care to keep belaboring that point with you, Bors. Frederick died because I did not look up. It is that simple."

"Frederick is not dead, Arthur."

"He is as good as dead, Bors, and you know it."

"He can still recover."

"And be what? A vegetable!? That is what the Master Physician believes! There is no coming back for Frederick! He shall be lucky to live another week! And it is all my fault."

"I shall go and retrieve Accolon and Sagremor. I expect to return by midday."

"Be careful, Bors. I do not want to lose you, too. I could not bear it."

Bors grinned at Arthur. "Now you sound like my wife."

Arthur gave Bors a slight smile. "Please be careful, Bors. And to not let harm come to Accolon and Sagremor."

Bors nodded and turned on his heels to leave.

"Remember, Bors! You cannot kill Gorlois! We cannot afford another war. We shall only retrieve Gorlois when the time is right."

Without response, Bors left Arthur's room, closing the door behind him.

Arthur lay back his head and groaned. "He is going to kill him. I just know it."

# Chapter 40

It was an hour before dawn when Bors, Accolon and Sagremor reigned in their horses a short distance away from an old, beat-up wooden house that didn't look fit for a dog.

"Seriously!?" Accolon exclaimed. "This is where Duke Gorlois lives!?"

"Keep your voice down, you fool!" Bors whispered. "Remember, he is a duke no longer."

Sagremor looked over at Bors. "So ... do we just knock on the door?"

"Nay." Bors replied, drawing his sword. "It is a door. Doors are for opening."

Sagremor shrugged as he dismounted his horse, along with the others. "Works for me. Let us take this worm."

"Nay, we shall not take the life of Gorlois."

"Surely you jest!!" Accolon exclaimed. "I believed you only spoke those words while we were in the vicinity of the castle! You are really going to let this wretched snake live!?"

"Our High Prince has good reason, just as I have already spoken."

"So we kill him and hide his body! King Eldon need not know!"

"I shall obey our High Prince in all things or not at all. My orders stand; we do not take the life of Gorlois."

"What if he is not here? Then what we do?"

Bors shrugged. "We search ... and then we leave."

"Could we not wait for him to return?"

"Must I repeat myself, Sir Knight? We are not here for Gorlois."

"Right." scowled Sagremor. "We are only here to search for this supposed ... mystery daughter of Gorlois, based upon the fool and untrustworthy ramblings of a servant."

"If there is such a daughter, she would also be a daughter of Igraine, once beloved wife to our High King Uther."

Sagremor bowed his head. "Of course, Battlemaster. I meant no disrespect."

Accolon drew his sword. "Can we stop talking and go in? I am most anxious to meet Gorlois."

"Sir Knight..." Bors warned.

"I am not going to kill him. I give my word as a Knight."

"See that you do not."

"I am only going to wound him a little."

"Accolon..." Bors growled.

"And I am going to wound him a lot." Sagremor added, drawing his sword.

"Nay. If anyone is going to ... 'wound' Gorlois, it shall be I and I alone."

"We can at least watch, I hope?" Sagremor grinned.

Bors gave him a slight smile and then raised his sword. "Come. Let us go see what Gorlois hides in his house. Perhaps we shall be fortunate and he shall attempt to prevent us from searching."

The three Knights quickly made their way quietly to the front door of the old shack. Bors looked towards the east and saw they had little time before the rising of the sun. "We must be quick. I wish to be long gone before first light."

Accolon and Sagremor nodded, and then Bors smashed his foot through the front door of the house of Gorlois.

*** *** ***

Bors and Accolon and Sagremor had seen many things in their lives. But nothing had prepared them for this.

For they had just entered a house of horrors.

Strewn about the wooden floor were dozens of candles. The floor itself was covered in blood, and the walls were covered with hideous drawings and symbols, written in blood. And everywhere they looked, there were internal body parts and organs; whether they were human or animal; they did not know.

But it was the people inside the horrific one room shack that unnerved them the most. Strapped upon one of the walls was a man ... naked and hanging upside down, and his body was covered with ghastly deep cuts. His entire chest had been sliced open and peeled back, revealing his ribcage and organs.

And the man was still alive.

_"Help me..."_ the man whispered, in agony.

But there were others in the grisly room, as well.

Four young teen boys were sitting in a circle upon the sticky and bloody floor; also naked. Their heads were shaven bare and they seemed to be in some sort of drugged trance, such that they didn't even realize that three Knights had just burst in upon their abhorrent and gruesome ritual.

And there was a terrible heaviness in the air; a blanket of evil that pervaded the house, giving the Knights pause.

Bors shook his head trying to clear his thoughts of what he was seeing. The upside down man on the wall looked to be in his last throes of life, and so Bors quickly rushed over and put his sword through the man's exposed beating heart, freeing him from his terrible misery.

Then Bors turned towards the four boys with shaven heads, who looked to be no more than ten or eleven years old. Part of him wanted to kill them all right there. Another part of him could not, for they were not of age. But it was his promise to Arthur that caused him to stay his hand and not harm the four 'sons' of Gorlois.

Just then a servant came running in from the back of the house, having heard the crashing in of the door. The servant's appearance matched the description of the servant seen in the Marketplace. Upon seeing the four large Knights armed with swords and filled with rage, the servant instantly dropped to his knees. "PLEASE!" he began begging for his life. "I am but a servant of my master!"

"WHERE IS GORLOIS!?" Bors roared.

"PLEASE! Sir Knight, my master is not here!"

"LIES!!"

"NO! No lies! My master is not here!"

Bors rushed over and wrapped his giant hand around the man's neck and lifted him into the air. "WHO ELSE RESIDES IN THIS VILE HOUSE!?"

The servant man began struggling with his hands, desperately trying to ease the giant Knight's powerful grip around his throat. As tears of fright came to his eyes, it was all he could do to shake his head.

Bors growled at him and threw the servant to the ground. Then he held his sword at the man's neck. "WHO ELSE RESIDES IN THIS VILE HOUSE!!?" Bors shouted again; for he was convinced the servant knew more than he was letting on.

And for a brief moment ... and only the slightest of moments ... the servant's wide and fearful eyes briefly flickered across to the far side of the room; but he just as quickly caught himself and looked back at Bors. "PLEASE! Sir Knight, my master is not here!"

Bors then smashed his fist into the side of the servant's head, causing the servant to fall unconscious to the sticky red wooden floor.

Accolon and Sagremor had also seen the very brief flicker of the servant's eyes and dashed over to the corner of the old shack.

Where they found an old and worn, wooden trap door in the floor with a handle made of what looked like ... hair.

Accolon reached down and was about to yank open the trap door, when he pulled back; for it was then that he realized that he handle was made of human hair.

"OPEN IT!!" Bors ordered.

Accolon gulped, and then grabbed the handle made of long brown curly hair in his gloved hand and pulled. The trap door opened easily, revealing a ladder descending down into a deep narrow man-sized hole which had been dug into the earth.

Accolon gulped again.

"WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF, SIR KNIGHT!?" Bors demanded as he strode over to stand beside Accolon and Sagremor.

Together the three looked into the deep hole but it was too deep to see the bottom.

Bors turned around and snatched two candles off of the floor and handed one of each to Accolon and Sagremor. "I would go in your place, but that rabbit hole is too small." He growled. "You two women go and see what is down there."

Ordinarily, Accolon was a fearless man. But the house of horrors had unnerved him and he was more than a little hesitant.

"Afraid of monsters in the dark, little girl?" Bors sneered.

Accolon gulped as he looked down the dark hole. Even the flickering candle in his hand did nothing to reveal what horrors lay below.

Whereas Accolon was a little on the superstitious side, Sagremor was not. He simply shrugged and pushed Accolon aside, and then turned and lowered his right foot onto the first rung of the ladder to begin his descent into the hole.

Suddenly Accolon shrieked. For standing right behind them were the four sons. They stood beside each other like four creepy statues. Their eyes were rolled back up in their heads, and all four were pointing down into the darkness of the hole while shaking their heads in warning.

Bors spun around and held his sword at all four of their thin pale throats. "WHAT IS DOWN THERE!?"

While shaking their heads and pointing down, with only the whites of their eyes showing, they all answered in unison:

"Animal."

Sagremor instantly leaped back up out of the hole.

Bors raised his sword, with the full intent of bringing his sword across all four of their shaven-headed necks at once; but he hesitated. For it seemed as if they were still in some sort of trance. Still struggling with taking the lives of four young boys, Bors then slammed the flat of his blade against all four of their chests, sending them flying backwards against a wall and then sliding to the ground into an unconscious heap.

Then Bors glowered at Sagremor. "I will know what is down there!"

Even Sagremor was beginning to grow nervous; and he simply wasn't the superstitious type. Sagremor took a deep breath and then pointed a finger at Accolon. "If there is something down there, you are coming with me. If it kills me, you shall kill ... whatever this 'animal' is. Understand?"

Accolon nodded and took a deep breath of his own. Sagremor's little exhortation seemed to help break Accolon out of his temporary fear. "I am right behind you, Brother."

Sagremor smiled at Accolon and nodded; for 'Brother' was a term of comradery the Knights would sometimes call each other.

"That is more like it." Sagremor grinned. "Let us go kill this beastie."

Bors snorted. "I was afraid I had two women on my hands. Thought I was going to have to go down there, myself."

Sagremor chuckled as he began climbing down into the hole. "Do not even consider it, Battlemaster. It gets more narrow as I go. You would become as a cork in a bottle."

Accolon grinned at Bors.

Bors growled at Accolon.

Accolon stopped grinning.

And he began to climb in after Sagremor.

*** *** ***

"Oh ... dear ... God in heaven." Sagremor's voice carried up from the deep hole from below, shortly after he reached the bottom. "Accolon!" Sagremor shouted. "Get down here!"

Accolon practically slid down the ladder in an effort to reach the bottom as fast as he could.

"SAGREMOR!" Bors barked in command. "REPORT!"

"No monsters down here, Bors!" Sagremor shouted back up. "Just ... two ... people. This may take a moment, Battlemaster. Accolon! Give me a hand!"

Having just reached the bottom of the thirty foot descent, Accolon found himself in a very small underground cavern, which had been naturally carved by a small, slow moving spring, and was about 15 feet by 20 feet with a low hanging ceiling of rock.

As Accolon spun around with his candle, he was stunned to see in the black darkness a woman of about thirty years of age. Judging by her shredded clothing and ragged appearance, the woman looked like she was a servant, and had herself could have likely been living down there for thirty years; for her hair was wild and unkempt and she was covered with dirt and mud.

But the most surprising thing, was that the woman was beating on Sagremor with her fists, trying to prevent him from peering down into a pit.

"Accolon!" Sagremor yelled. "Pull this crazy woman off of me! There is someone else down here!"

Accolon rushed over and grabbed the woman by the arms and manhandled her away from Sagremor. Then the woman burst into tears. "PLEASE! DO NOT HURT HER!"

"Calm yourself, woman!" Accolon replied. "We are not here to hurt anyone! We are here to help!"

"PLEASE! DO NOT HURT HER!" the woman pleaded, again.

"Oh ... dear ... God in heaven." Sagremor repeated a second time. "There really is someone in here!"

The woman then began to wail. "PLEASE! DO NOT HURT HER!"

"Accolon, do something about her, would you!?" Sagremor yelled, while reaching down into the pit with his candle. "I think that crazy woman is deaf; she cannot hear you."

Accolon then turned around and faced the woman. As she continued her weeping, Accolon pulled out his sword.

And offered it to her.

The woman instantly stopped crying. And looked at Accolon in shock; who was offering her his own sword in outstretched arms.

Accolon began to speak slowly and deliberately, forming his words carefully. "Not ... hurt. Help."

The ragged woman looked at Accolon wild-eyed, then looked at the sword he was handing her with a smile on his face.

Again, Accolon spoke slowly to her. "We ... not ... hurt. We ... friends."

The woman's eyes flashed back and forth between Accolon's smiling face and his sword. Then she quickly snatched the sword out of his outstretched hands and held it point first towards Accolon's face.

"Uh oh."

The woman looked at Accolon intently for a time. Finally, she then pulled the sword away from his face, and raised it up high in a threatening manner.

Then she nodded.

The woman was giving them permission to access whoever was in the pit, but at the same time, giving him warning.

"Oh ... dear ... God in heaven." Sagremor repeated a third time. "There really is someone in here!! Accolon, get over here and help me."

Accolon smiled nervously, at the woman with wild crazy eyes and his sword in her hands. "We, uh ... we ... are friends. We ... are ... here ... to ... help." he said, again.

The woman nodded again in understanding; but kept her hands tightly on the raised sword, just in case.

Accolon then turned from her and went over to join Sagremor, where Sagremor was lying on his stomach, holding his candle down into the pit to get a better view. Accolon knelt down beside him and then saw what Sagremor had seen.

The tiny pit was four feet in diameter and six feet deep. At the bottom of the pit was a tiny girl who didn't look to be any more than six or seven years of age. What few strips of clothing she had left to her, were shredded and ripped and torn and covered in blood; just as her flesh was also covered with many terrible cuts from knives. The smell coming from the pit was rancid, for it was quite obvious she had been living in the pit for a very long time; most likely all of her young life.

The little girl was extremely frightened of Sagremor, and was trembling and shaking, as she sat cowering in a tiny ball like a terrified mouse, pressed up against the opposite wall.

"No!" Accolon gasped in horror when he got his first good look at her.

"We cannot leave her in there, Accolon." Sagremor growled. "I do not care if this is Igraine's daughter or not. I shall not leave this child in there like an animal. Arthur's orders or not, I absolutely REFUSE to..."

Accolon nodded as he interrupted. "No, I agree with you. How shall we get her out? Shall I climb down?"

"One of us has to. You stay here; I shall climb in and get her and then hand her up to you. I hope she does not bite."

"Wait..." Accolon said, stopping Sagremor with his hand. "This child looks as if she might perish from fright. I think ... this woman is her ... caretaker or something. Allow her to speak to the child, first."

Sagremor turned his head and looked at the woman in surprise. "She has your sword."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Sagremor shrugged. "Very well. Call her over."

Accolon beckoned the woman to come over. The woman still held the sword raised high in both hands, warily studying Accolon's eyes.

"Friend." Accolon said simply, waving her to join them. "Help. Come. Speak."

The woman finally nodded her head and cautiously approached to the two Knights, lying on their stomachs at the edge of the pit.

Accolon then pointed at himself. "Accolon. Friend."

The woman looked at Accolon for a time, and then nodded. "Accolon." she said.

Accolon nodded and then pointed at Sagremor. "Sagremor. Friend."

The woman looked at Sagremor for a time, and then nodded. "Sagremor."

Just then Bors shouted down from above, "WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG!? WHAT IS HAPPENING DOWN THERE!?"

As Accolon and Sagremor instantly looked up, the woman immediately lurched backwards, when Accolon said, "No!" Then he pointed towards the ladder. "That is Bors! He, too, is a friend!"

Once again the woman studied Accolon's eyes to look for signs of deceit.. Finally, she nodded again.

Accolon shouted out to Bors, "WE ARE COMING!! WE ARE BRINGING THEM WITH US! ONE OF THEM IS A GIRL!"

"HURRY UP!" Bors shouted back. "THE SUN SHALL BE RISING, SOON!"

Accolon turned back and looked at the woman. "We have come to take you away from here. Do you understand me?"

The woman looked at Accolon for a moment, and then looked towards the ladder. "Go?"

"Yes. Go. We shall take you away from here. Where you shall be safe. And you shall never have to come back."

Then a tear came to her eye as she looked longingly at the ladder. "Go?"

"Yes." Accolon smiled, tenderly. "You have been down here a long time, haven't you?"

"Gorlois?" the woman asked, nervously.

"He is not here." Accolon replied. "We must leave quickly, before Gorlois returns."

The woman's eyes widened in alarm. Then she looked at the pit. "Morgan?" she asked.

"Morgan?" Accolon repeated. "Is that the name of the child?"

The woman nodded. "Morgan."

"Morgan is coming with us." Accolon said. "But she is frightened. Can you speak with her? And tell her what is happening?"

The woman then touched both of her ears, indicating that she was indeed, deaf.

"I understand." Accolon said. "You read our lips."

The woman nodded. "I learned as a child." Then she pointed at Accolon's candle.

"You ... do not have light down here. It is always dark?"

The woman nodded.

"Which also means ... you can never read Morgan's lips."

The woman shook her head.

"What is your name, woman?"

"Luella." the woman replied. "I am nursemaiden of Morgan."

Accolon nodded. "My friend, Sagremor, is going to climb down and retrieve Morgan, and then give Morgan to me. Can you explain this to Morgan? So that she shall not be afraid?"

Luella nodded. "I shall try. She is always afraid when they take her out. She does not speak for a long time when they put her back. But I shall try."

Accolon smiled at her and then moved aside, making room for Luella to approach the pit.

Luella walked around to the other side of the pit, the area just above where Morgan was cowering against the wall. Then Luella lay down on her stomach in the dirt and reached down into the pit; something which by all appearances, she was obviously quite accustomed to doing.

Luella then reached down as far as she could, stretching down her arm until finally ... her hand barely reached the top of Morgan's head.

And then like magic, Morgan began to calm down when she felt Luella's hand upon her head. Morgan was still looking up at Sagremor and Accolon, terrified; but Luella's hand upon her head seemed to be doing wonders.

Then ... Accolon began to understand why.

Luella was communicating with Morgan, with her hand. In the flickering candlelight, Accolon could make out Luella's hand going through a sequence of patterns on top of Morgan's head. Luella continued repeating the same sequence of patterns, over and over, again.

Until finally, Morgan's shaking and trembling began to cease. Still with her eyes wide in fear, Morgan then raised her own small hand, and touched Luella's hand. And then, Morgan began patting out her own sequence of patterns upon Luella's hand.

Then it was that Accolon realized it was language; their own special form of language they had developed together. And tears came to Accolon's eyes when he understood that both the small child and her nursemaiden, had been living in total and absolute darkness for untold years; and that this was the only way they had to communicate - the nursemaiden reaching down into the pit and tapping upon Morgan's head.

"HURRY UP!" Bors shouted, once again. "THE SUN IS BEGINNING TO RISE!"

Morgan instantly stiffened at the sound of Bors' voice.

Which at least indicated that the small child was not deaf.

"Luella..." Accolon said, touching her shoulder, "...we must hurry. We do not have much time."

Luella nodded and quickly began patting out a message to Morgan. Morgan then stopped Luella's patting with her hand, and looked up at her. Then finally, Morgan nodded.

Sagremor sighed. "It is about time!" Then he quickly climbed down into the pit with Morgan and turned to face her, as Morgan looked up at Sagremor in terror.

"Go easy, Sagremor." Accolon reprimanded.

"Sorry, little girl." Sagremor said, as he quickly yanked Morgan up by the shoulders. Morgan whimpered, but she didn't fight; as if she was accustomed to being handled roughly. "But we do not have time to go easy. We have to leave. Now!"

Sagremor then spun around and quickly thrust Morgan up to Accolon. "Do you have her!?"

Accolon gently reached down under Morgan's arms and lifted her up out of the pit. He sighed to himself, because she hardly weighed anything at all. "I have her. Let us go quickly."

Holding the tiny whimpering girl in his arms, Accolon turned toward Luella. "Can you climb the ladder?"

Luella nodded. "I shall try."

"I will go first, carrying Morgan. Then you go. Sagremor will come up last, behind you; should you need assistance."

Luella nodded.

*** *** ***

Bors was standing at the front door keeping watch outside, while also keeping watch of the still unconscious servant and the creepy sleeping four sons. The servant had once started to rouse, but Bors saw to it that he went back to 'sleep'.

He gave a sigh of relief when he saw Accolon rising quickly up out of the hole. "Finally! What took you so ... so ... dear God in Heaven..."

The moment that Accolon came out of the hole, he turned around and strode towards Bors. "This is Morgan. Stand back, Bors; the child is fearful and fragile. Let us ride now and talk later."

Bors found himself overcome with emotion at the sight of tiny girl curled up into a tight ball in Accolon's arms. Morgan was nervously looking back and forth at Accolon and Bors, as if in fear they were about to do something terrible to her.

Then came Luella, who managed to climb all the way up the ladder without help.

And once more Bors gasped, at the sight of the dirty raggedy woman.

Sagremor quickly followed, urging Luella to continue moving quickly and to not stare in horror at the unconscious bodies or the dead man hanging upside down on the wall.

"This is Luella." Sagremor quickly introduced to Bors, pushing her out the door. "She is deaf. She rides with me."

Bors took one last look at the house of horrors, trying to decide if he should burn it down with the bodies inside. But then the rays of the morning sun broke over the eastern hills, and Bors quickly strode to his horse to join the others who were already mounted and turning their horses around. Luella was straddled behind Sagremor, while Accolon held onto Morgan, who was sitting sideways and in front of him with his left arm tightly around her small body to hold her steady.

And together, they galloped off as fast as their horses would carry them in the direction of the rising sun.

# Chapter 41

In less than an hour their horses finally crossed the river which separated Uther Pendragon's kingdom from that of King Eldon of Cadwell.

While they had been riding eastwards towards the sun, Accolon noted that Morgan had never stopped whimpering, and was desperately trying to keep her head turned inward into his chest. He also noted that Luella, who was straddled behind Sagremor, also had to keep her eyes closed and her nose buried into Sagremor's back. And Accolon understood, that the two were not accustomed to light and that the painfully bright sun was hurting their eyes.

"Battlemaster!" Accolon shouted. "We need to stop!"

"NAY!" Bors shouted back. "We must continue on!"

"The child is fearful and the sun harms her eyes! At least stop so she may be comforted!"

Bors turned his head to look at Accolon holding Morgan and sighed. He nodded and then slowed his horse to a stop, in order to allow Sagremor's horse to come up alongside Accolon. "Be quick about it! We may already be being followed!"

"Nay, Battlemaster!" said Sagremor. "I have been watching; there are none following."

"Only a moment." Bors replied. "Then we ride on."

"Thank you, Bors." Accolon said, as he turned his horse around to shield Morgan with his body from the bright rays of the early morning sun. Sagremor did likewise and turned his horse around, sidling up against Accolon's horse.

"Luella?" Accolon asked. "Can you speak to Morgan? Tell her she is going to a better place where she shall be safe."

Luella nodded and looked at Morgan who had tears in her eyes. But rather than speak to Morgan, Luella reached over from Sagremor's horse and placed her hand atop Morgan's head; to communicate in the way they both knew best.

Within moments, Morgan's whimpering ceased, as Luella translated Accolon's words in their secret language. Finally, while Morgan looked at Luella, she reached up and touched Luella's hand atop her head, and they both 'spoke' words of comfort to each other.

Once Luella was satisfied that Morgan was okay, she nodded at Accolon. "She understands. We may go, now."

Bors nodded at Luella. "Forgive us for riding in such haste, nursemaiden; but it is for the best."

Luella nodded her head. "I have told this to Morgan. She understands. She shall be ... brave."

Bors smiled at the woman. "Forgive us for also riding into the sun; but again, we have no choice."

Suddenly to the surprise of the others, Accolon pulled off his armored breastplate and tossed it onto the ground.

Bors raised his eyebrow. "Sir Knight? What do you think you are doing?"

Accolon then removed his heavy woolen undershirt, leaving his upper body shirtless and bare skinned. He then took his heavy undergarment and placed it over Morgan's head. "This shall help protect her eyes." Accolon replied.

"Sir Knight, you are naked." Bors replied with a slight smile.

"I still wear my pants, Battlemaster." Accolon grinned, as he turned his horse towards the eastern sun. "We are ready."

Just then, Sagremor followed suit and tossed aside his own armored breastplate. He also removed his heavy woolen undershirt and handed it to Luella, who gratefully put it over her head. Then he turned his horse around towards the sun and grinned at Bors. "Ready when you are, Battlemaster."

Bors chuckled at the two breastplates lying on the ground and turned his own horse back around. "I think we shall enter the fortress from the rear. I shall not be seen riding with two naked Knights."

"Camelot, Sir Bors." Accolon corrected with a smile. "I believe we now call it ... Camelot."

Bors chuckled again as the three horses once more took off galloping towards the east.

*** *** ***

It took another three hours to reach Castle Camelot at full gallop. During the entire ride with Luella straddled behind Sagremor, she kept her head covered with Sagremor's heavy shirt. Accolon's large shirt was plenty big enough to cover little Morgan's entire body. It helped protect her eyes from being blinded by the sun and also protected her body from getting burnt, as the only clothing she had were raggedy strips of cloth which barely covered anything.

Sagremor and Accolon were less fortunate, as the sun's rays beating down upon them soon turned them lobster red by the time they reached the castle.

Surprisingly, by the time they reached Camelot at noon, Morgan had fallen asleep, cuddled up against Accolon's bare chest. For Morgan had the same gift of her mother; the Gift of Hearing Hearts. And for the past three hours, beneath Accolon's heavy woolen shirt, Morgan had kept her head resting against Accolon's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

And through Morgan's own unique understanding, Morgan heard the caring and concerned heart of the large Knight who had rescued her. With his long blonde hair and blonde beard and his warm blue eyes, Sir Accolon, Knight of Camelot, had unknowingly become the tiny girl's hero and savior.

And so it was that the first initial seeds of bonding were planted and formed, between the little girl named Morgan le Fay and Sir Accolon the Knight. Seeds which would one day grow into something more.

*** *** ***

The three horses were reigned in at the royal stables, which were less than a hundred yards behind Castle Camelot. Fortunately the stables were in a shady area surrounded by trees and protected the two girls from the bright noon sunlight.

Bors nodded at the two Knights, and then rode on towards the castle's front steps to give Arthur advance notice they were coming.

Morgan had awoken when they stopped, and Accolon dismounted his horse while still cradling Morgan in his arms. Sagremor dismounted and then helped Luella off of her horse.

Luella then quickly rushed over to Accolon and placed her hand atop Morgan's head, who in turn placed her hand atop hers. "Are you okay?" Luella asked out loud, while simultaneously 'communicating' to her in their secret language.

Morgan nodded as she looked around, her eyes widening at the sights; especially the immense stone fortress a short distance away.

Luella followed her gaze and asked "Who lives there?"

Sagremor chuckled. "That, nursemaiden, happens to be the home of High King Uther Pendragon."

Luella and Morgan both gasped at the mention of the name. Though Uther had never known that Luella and Morgan were hidden below in the catacombs beneath the duke's castle in Cornwall years earlier, Luella had soon learned from Gorlois about what Uther had done and of his rampage, killing nearly all of the inhabitants inside.

"Welcome to Camelot." Accolon grinned at Morgan in his arms. "Are you well enough to walk? I can still carry you, if you like."

Morgan didn't reply as she continued to stare nervously at the fortress and the overwhelming surroundings.

"She can walk." Luella replied on Morgan's behalf.

"Are you sure?" Accolon asked Luella, while facing her.

Luella nodded. "I have helped her maintain strength in her legs since she was young. Morgan had little room, to be sure, but I saw to it she received daily activity."

Accolon looked at Luella with increased appreciation. "You have been a Godsend to this child. Thank you, Luella."

Accolon then gently set Morgan down on her feet. Morgan was a little wobbly at first, but Accolon helped steady her. Without a word, she then pulled Accolon's shirt from around her shoulders and offered it back to him.

Accolon smiled at Morgan, tenderly. "You may wish to keep that to cover yourself as we enter."

Morgan's eyes widened in surprise.

As did Luella. "You ... would give this to Morgan!?" Luella asked, as if stunned.

Accolon looked at Sagremor who was giving him a smirk. "I would not want to keep it if I were you." Sagremor teased Morgan. "Accolon has worn that thing for nearly two days. I would imagine by now it smells like the dog that he is."

Ignoring Sagremor's tease, Morgan was looking up at Accolon in wonder.

Accolon chuckled, looking down at Morgan. "I would imagine, even the gift of a 'dog' such as I, might be something you are unaccustomed to. If you wish to keep the shirt, then it is yours, Morgan. Put it on so that it might cover you, and then let us go and visit with those inside. I think the High Prince shall be most interested in meeting the two of you."

Morgan continued staring at Accolon in wonder. For though he hadn't realized it, Accolon had just given Morgan only the second gift of her entire young life. And to Morgan, the gift of Accolon's stinky and smelly woolen undershirt ... was just about the most precious and wondrous thing in all the world.

# Chapter 42

Meanwhile in the castle, Bors had found Arthur downstairs in the Royal Receiving Room adjacent to the entryway, lying with his bandaged leg upon a sofa seat. And surprising to Bors, Uther was also there, still sitting in the very same chair which he had left him in the night before; and still with the same hazy glazed look in his eyes.

"He does not speak." Arthur said, after Bors quickly filled him on what had happened that morning, as they were waiting for the others to arrive.

"How long have you been with him?" Bors asked.

"I came down after you left during the night. I found him like this and have stayed here since."

"Has he recognized you?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. He is getting worse, I think. And he is so thin and gaunt; I think his health is failing."

Bors nodded. "So it would seem."

Arthur sighed and then looked back at Bors. "So you do not think she is my sister?"

"I do not think so, young pup. She is too small and too young to be the second daughter of Igraine. She cannot possibly be older than you. She is much younger."

"This is disappointing. I should not have gotten my hopes up. How old do you think this child is?"

"She cannot be more than six or seven years of age."

"And what of her nursemaiden? Luella, you said her name was? You said she has lived with the child Morgan in that ... pit?"

"In the chamber below with her, yes. Only the child remained in that wretched pit."

"You said they communicated through touch?"

"They still do, young pup; it is all they know."

"You said Luella is deaf. What of the child? Can the child speak?"

"I do not know. We have not seen evidence; nor have we had time to speak with the nursemaiden on the matter."

Arthur sighed, again. "I cannot even begin to imagine such conditions as you have described. Is the child even ... sane?"

Bors shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Should they not be here, by now?"

"They should be here at any moment."

"After they arrive, can you go and fetch the Master Physician? He should take a look at both of them as soon as possible."

Bors nodded. "I should warn you, young pup, the smell..."

"I understand, Bors. I am sure I can overlook the smell."

"I am not sure you can. I am only thankful we rode on horse the entire way. I led the way and remained ... upwind of them. I fear Accolon and Sagremor were not so ... fortunate."

"I sent a message to King Eldon. So far, I have not heard back."

"We took no lives as I promised, other than their one victim ypon the wall who was already as good as dead. Though I was sorely tempted to take more lives."

"It is better this way, Bors. We shall see to it that Gorlois comes to know justice, but in our own time and manner."

"May it involve the removal of his wretched and vile head; of which I beg to offer my services."

Arthur smiled, just as the front door to the castle opened. "Ah, here they are now. Accolon! Sagremor! Sir Knights..." Arthur began to tease. "Have you misplaced your shirts!? Surely you ... you ... you ... oh, dear God in heaven..."

Arthur gasped when he got his first sight of Morgan and Luella. And tears immediately came to Arthur's eyes, especially at seeing the tiny little girl, who seemed petrified at entering through the massive doors of the great stone fortress. Arthur had seen scared animals before when they had been cornered. But to see the small thin frail girl who was trembling and shaking with a look of terror in her eyes, it instantly broke his heart.

As they stood out in the castle entryway, in full view of Arthur from the receiving room, Accolon held up his finger to Arthur, warning him to pause and not rush them. Then Accolon knelt beside Morgan and asked Luella to 'speak' to her again.

Luella, herself, was also looking nearly petrified; for entering the great castle of the High King was no small thing. But Luella quickly overcame her own fear and turned towards Morgan, once again placing her hand atop Morgan's head. Within moments, Morgan responded by placing her own hand atop Luella's, and after a time, both Luella and Morgan appeared to begin calming down; though they both remained wide-eyed.

And then it was, that Accolon entered the receiving room to present the two visitors. "High Prince Arthur Pendragon..." Accolon began to announce.

Arthur immediately shot up his hand. "Just ... Arthur." he corrected. "They are overwhelmed enough as it is."

"Of course." Accolon replied.

Just then, Accolon caught his first look as to who else was in the room, and his eyes widened at the sight of Uther.

Arthur quickly shook his head with his finger to his lips, directing Accolon not to say anything. Accolon understood and turned to face Luella and Morgan. "Come. I wish you to meet ... Arthur. He is the one I spoke to you of."

"Friend?" Luella asked.

"Yes." Accolon smiled, tenderly. "Arthur is a friend. And he may very well be the most important friend you can ever have."

Even though Morgan had heard Accolon's words, it wasn't until Luella confirmed it with her hand on Morgan's head, that Morgan braved herself to meet another person. As Morgan and Luella stepped into the room, the full light of the large bright Receiving Room windows fell upon them, causing them both to shield their eyes from the sunlight. Arthur quickly waved them forward closer, out of the direct sun.

And once more Arthur gasped when he saw all of the terrible knife wounds upon Morgan's body; at least in the places where Accolon's large shirt wasn't covering her.

_"Bors..."_ Arthur whispered. _"Get ... the Master Physician. Now."_

Bors clapped his fist to his chest and quickly disappeared out of the room.

While his heart also went out to Luella, it was the sight of little Morgan that was ripping his heart apart. For she was bony thin and frail and emaciated, far more than he ever imagined it possible for a human being to be; especially as it was only a child. Morgan's skin was so pale and white from never having seen the sun that she looked like a ghost. Her hair was so dirty and caked with mud, Arthur couldn't be certain what color her hair was; though he suspected it was brown.

But the thing that got to Arthur the most, and more than anything else, was the eyes. Besides the look of fear in her eyes - darting back and forth between Luella and the strange new people in the room, Morgan's eyes were the most telling and revealing of all. For Arthur was looking at the very same eyes that he saw in his own mirrored reflection. And in that very same instant, Arthur knew ... that Morgan was his sister.

Or, at the very least, his half-sister. Obviously born of Igraine, and likely Gorlois, he surmised; Morgan was the first family Arthur had ever known; other than his father.

"Arthur..." Accolon announced, officially, "...I would like to introduce to you ... the nursemaiden Luella, and the child Morgan le Fay."

Arthur was about to struggle to his feet when suddenly! Uther leaped up out his chair! The very mention of Morgan's full name had somehow broken through his fog, and he stood, staring in shock at the tiny little girl.

Which of course, the sudden and unexpected movements of the strange man sitting in the chair once more terrified Morgan, and she instantly rushed into Luella's arms trembling in fear.

_"Morgan le Fay!"_ Uther whispered in awe.

Then Uther began slowly walking towards little Morgan, even as Accolon knelt beside her and calmly said, "Fear not, little one; this man is also a friend."

It didn't help matters that Luella knew who Uther was and what he had done, and thus she didn't exactly agree.

As Uther approached Morgan, however, Morgan saw there was no evil in his eyes nor intent of harm. Instead, she saw tears in Uther's eyes.

Uther then knelt down on one knee before Morgan, and looked deep into her eyes. And tears began to stream down his face. _"Morgan le Fay."_ Uther whispered again. Then, Uther raised his left hand; the one with a long deep white scar across his palm, and tenderly pressed his palm against Morgan's face.

Morgan looked at the crying man without fear; only in wonder, without having any understanding of what was going on. All Morgan could sense, was that the crying man was hurting inside.

_"Morgan le Fay."_ Uther whispered a third time. _"Fairy spirit. My ... daughter."_

Thus, confirming in front of everyone, what Arthur had already guessed - that Morgan was indeed, a daughter of Igraine; though she looked impossibly too young to have been his actual biological daughter.

Uther continued looking at Morgan for a time, as Morgan's small heart began to go out to the crying man who had just claimed to be her father. Then ... Uther pulled his hand away from her cheek. He then leaned forward and kissed Morgan on the forehead. Uther then rose to his feet ... and turned and walked away.

*** *** ***

After Uther disappeared out through the front door, Arthur ordered Sagremor to follow him to make sure he was okay. Sagremor clapped his fist to his chest and quickly disappeared out the door after Uther.

While Morgan was looking at the front door sorrowfully, for her heart had indeed been touched by Uther, Luella was finding herself very confused; for the Uther she had just experienced was nothing at all like the monster she had heard described by Gorlois. And so it was that Luella decided, at that very moment, that the man whom Gorlois had portrayed as a monster, was yet another of Gorlois' many and countless lies.

Of course, she was also more than slightly stunned to see that the High King had just referred to Morgan as 'daughter'.

Arthur then picked up a walking stick lying on the floor beside him and limped over towards Morgan. By the time he reached her, Morgan had turned her head from the door and faced Arthur. And Arthur was surprised to see a tear in her eye.

Arthur marveled at the little girl. "After all that you have been through ... yet you weep for a man you have only just met. You are an amazing little girl, Morgan le Fay."

Morgan looked down on the ground at her feet, unable to meet Arthur's intense gaze.

"Morgan?" Arthur said quietly, "I do not know how much you understand, nor do I know if you can understand what I am saying. But that man who just left? His name is Uther. And he was once married ... to our mother."

Morgan didn't reply. But Arthur did notice that she had nervously crossed her left foot over her right. It was her seeming nervousness at his words that signified to Arthur that Morgan knew exactly what he was talking about. And then it was, that Arthur realized that Morgan was older than she looked. And that she was much more intelligent than she first appeared. And once more, Arthur marveled.

"I know you can understand me, Morgan." Arthur continued. "We are uncertain ... exactly ... as to who your father actually is. But one thing we do know, is who your mother is. We share the same mother, Morgan. And my father has even recognized your name and your face. There is no longer any doubt. Morgan le Fay? You are my sister. And I welcome you home."

# Chapter 43

If Arthur was expecting a reaction, he didn't get one. Morgan simply continued looking at her crossed feet. Which told Arthur, that Morgan, herself, had already come to the very same conclusion all on her own. And again, Arthur was amazed.

Arthur could see that Morgan had an amazingly pure and innocent heart; unexplainably and miraculously free from hatred, resentment, bitterness or any other such things, which Arthur again found to be simply incredible. There was much more to Morgan than met the eye.

But Arthur could also discern that Morgan was extremely overwhelmed with the incredible events of the day, and he felt it was best to not overwhelm her any further than necessary. For whatever reason, Arthur sensed that even a simple thing such as a hug would likely frighten her. He wasn't sure how much more she could handle; though so far, Morgan seemed to be handling it all better than one would have expected. So ... Arthur simply offered Morgan a warm and friendly smile and hopefully a sense of security; thereby allowing Morgan to grow into such things on her own and in her own time.

Arthur was just about to ask if they were hungry, when Morgan suddenly knelt down to look closer at Arthur's bandaged leg.

"I, uh ... I was hurt. It is nothing; it is only a cut."

Morgan continued looking curiously at his bandages.

"You ... have never seen ... bandages?"

Without answer, Morgan continued inspecting them, as if trying to determine what was underneath.

Arthur managed to discern her curiosity about the bandages, and decided to show her what was underneath. So ... he began to pull the bandaging apart, until the wound was revealed; a terrible long gash in his leg from the enemy battle axe.

Once again, to Arthur's surprise, Morgan showed no reaction. She looked curiously at the long gash which was nearly three feet long. Then ... Morgan began looking at the cuts on her own arms and legs.

And Arthur realized why Morgan didn't show a reaction to his terrible wound; for such a thing was commonplace to Morgan, herself.

Fighting back both a tear and angry bile in his mouth for what Gorlois had done to her, Arthur somehow managed a smile. "I guess this proves we are brother and sister. I have cuts like you."

And that seemed to satisfy Morgan's curiosity; for she had actually been thinking the same thing, herself.

Just then, Bors arrived with the Master Physician. "Dear God in heaven..." the Physician exclaimed, when he saw Morgan. He started to rush over to Morgan when Accolon stopped the Physician with his hand. "Go ... slow." Accolon warned.

The Physician looked up at Accolon in surprise, then back at Morgan, who was now looking up at the new stranger in fear.

"Of course." The Physician sighed. "Forgive me, young lady. I did not mean to cause you alarm."

"Master Physician?" Arthur said, "Allow me to introduce you to Morgan le Fay. My ... sister."

Bors raised his eyebrow while the doctor looked stunned.

"I will fill you both in." Arthur said. "But yes, while you were gone to get the Physician, Bors, we now officially recognize Morgan as my own flesh and blood."

"How do you know this, young pup?" Bors asked.

"I, for one, can see it. But my father also, has recognized Morgan, and has confirmed her and has even declared her as such."

Now Bors looked stunned.

Just then, Sagremor returned through the front door. "I ... followed your father to the stables, but as he rode away, he ordered me to cease following him."

"It is okay, Sagremor." Arthur replied. "That is all you can do. Thank you for at least seeing him safely to his horse."

"Of course. He is my king."

Arthur then knelt down beside Morgan. "Sister? This man is our Master Physician. Do you know what a Physician is?"

When Morgan didn't respond, Arthur began to explain to both her and Luella that he was a man who was skilled in healing and helping hurting people. Arthur then asked them both if they would allow the Master Physician to examine them.

To which they both emphatically shook their heads 'no', even as they began backing away, fearfully.

Arthur quickly put up his hand. "It is okay. If you do not wish to be examined, then you shall not be examined. It is your free choice."

"Prince Arthur..." the Master Physician began to object.

"I am sorry, Master Physician." Arthur interrupted. "But until they both feel comfortable enough to be examined, I am going to have to ask you to..."

Then Luella interrupted Arthur. "Can this man really help the hurting go away?"

Arthur looked at her in surprise. "He is very good at what he does. Are you hurting?"

Luella shook her head. "Morgan has hurting. Can he make it go away?"

Arthur looked at the Physician, who then replied "I cannot answer without first examining."

Arthur knelt down beside Morgan. "Sister? May I ask where you are hurting?"

Morgan looked at Arthur for a very long time, before finally nodding. Then Morgan removed Accolon's heavy woolen shirt; for the first time revealing the small strips of dirty rags she wore as clothing; ragstrips which did little to hide her nakedness.

And both Arthur and the Physician gasped; not because of her 'clothing' or lack of clothing, but because of the many horrendous knife cuts upon her skin; some of which were clearly infected. Then Morgan turned and showed them her back; which was also covered with many deep cuts; including a very long cut which ran from the base of her neck all the way to her waist in parallel with her spine. And it too, was terribly infected.

"This is her hurt." Luella said, referring to the long cut on her back. "Can you make the hurt go away?"

Arthur wasn't the only one was who was horrified ... and in tears; Bors and Accolon and even the Physician, as well. And though the Physician had seen many terrible battle wounds, including severed limbs and heads and many other terrible things; somehow this was the worst of them all. The Physician knelt beside Morgan to better inspect the long cut, all the while with tears streaming down his face. Morgan flinched a few times as he poked and prodded, but never once emitted a sound or cried out.

Finally the Physician looked up at Luella as he wiped his eyes. "I think so. I think ... I can make the hurting stop."

Luella looked at him, gratefully. "Thank you. It has been hurting her for a long time."

The Physician sighed as he rose to his feet. "Yes, I can see that. She has other hurts too, which I am sure also cause her much pain. But as far as I can tell, this one seems to be the worst."

"Can you make all of her hurts go away?"

"I shall do my best, nursemaiden. I shall do my utmost to make the hurting go away." The Master Physician then helped Morgan to cover herself again with Accolon's shirt.

After she was covered, Morgan turned back around towards Luella and tapped her head. Luella nodded and placed her hand upon Morgan's head, and the others watched in amazement as the two carried on a long and silent conversation.

Finally, Luella turned towards Arthur so that she could read his lips. "Morgan tells me ... that I must do this, also. She wishes for my hurts to go away, as well."

Arthur looked at her in surprise. "I thought you said you had no hurts?"

"Morgan knows I have hurts, too. It is from when I fell into our living home."

Accolon shook his head in anger. "Gorlois ... threw you down into that hole?"

"It was a long time ago."

"Show me." the Master Physician ordered.

Luella looked nervously at the Physician and was hesitant. Then of all things, Morgan reached up and began tapping on Luella's head. Luella looked embarrassed as she faced the Physician. "I am being shamed by a child. I shall be ... brave, and show you, just as Morgan has done."

And for the first time, the Master Physician smiled.

After he finished examining Luella's arms and legs and hands and feet, the Physician once more wore a frown. "You have broken bones which were not set properly. They have healed wrong. I ... shall have to break them again and reset them, so that they may heal right."

Luella gulped as the color drained from her already pale white face.

"But I am very good at this. It shall only hurt for a moment. Then ... by Spring, your hurting should hopefully be gone."

Once more Morgan tapped Luella on the head, encouraging her to be brave. Luella smiled at Morgan and nodded.

Then the Physician turned to face Morgan. "As for you, little lady, I shall need to clean all of your wounds; not just the ones which hurt. I shall need to reopen some of the wounds, before I can sew them back up. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Now it was Morgan's turn for the color to drain from her pale white face, as she too, gulped. And then it was Luella's turn to tap words of encouragement on Morgan's head.

Morgan began patting Luella's hand, as Luella patted Morgan's head. To the others, the patting seemed to speed up as they appeared to communicate faster and faster. Finally, both Luella and Morgan had slight smiles on their faces; as it appeared they actually been ... teasing and joking with one another.

And once again, Arthur marveled at the fortitude of his little sister.

Finally the two girls nodded at the Master Physician. The Physician then held up two fingers. "Two weeks. I shall treat both of you in two weeks, do you understand?"

Both girls nodded.

"In the meantime, I want both of you to bathe and obtain a fresh new change of clothes. I am sure our High Prince can help find you something. Nursemaiden Luella? I would also ask you to clean the child's wounds three times each day until you come for treatment. The reason I am delaying treatment for two weeks is to allow time for the severely inflamed tissue to decrease in its swelling. Can you help me with this?"

Being unsure, Luella shrugged.

"Very well; I shall send over one of my women assistants to instruct you in the cleaning of wounds."

Luella nodded.

The Master Physician then scowled at Arthur. "As for you, I do not recall giving you permission to remove those bandages. I want those put back on, immediately."

"Yes, sir."

The Master Physician turned to leave, then once more turned back around to face Luella and Morgan. "Oh, and one last thing. Both of you ... for God's sake, eat something."

Both Luella and Morgan looked at the Physician in surprise as he turned on his heels and walked away.

*** *** ***

Arthur chuckled after the Physician had left.

Luella looked at Arthur, still in surprise. "Are you not ... High Prince?"

Arthur grinned at her. "You refer to the way he spoke to me? Yes, that is our beloved Physician. If you were to ask him, when it comes to caring for the hurting, he shall tell you that he is king."

Morgan then reached up and patted a brief message to Luella, and Luella smiled.

"What did she say?" Arthur asked.

"Morgan says she thinks the Physician is a good man."

Arthur smiled at Morgan. "He is indeed. He has helped many of us. Come. Let us go and see Cook. After I introduce you to her, she shall prepare you something to eat, and then we shall go in search of clean clothes for you wear, for after you bathe."

Just as Arthur was about to turn around, Accolon walked over and whispered in Arthur's ear: _"The Master Physician wishes to speak with you in private. He awaits for you outside."_

Arthur sighed and nodded. Then he turned and smiled at Luella and Morgan. "I must go and see to something. Bors can introduce you to Cook. I shall be back in a short time."

Luella nodded, and together, Luella and Morgan followed after Bors towards the kitchen. Accolon and Sagremor remained behind.

Arthur looked at the two Knights in surprise. "Something you two want?"

"We wish to hear the true assessment of the Physician." Accolon replied.

"Ah. Very well, let us go see what 'encouraging' words he has to offer us."

*** *** ***

It was nearly an hour by the time Arthur, Accolon and Sagremor returned to the kitchen. The three of them were not surprised to see Morgan asleep on the floor, cuddled up against Luella in a corner, who was also asleep herself.

For the stunning news that the Physician had told them - that Morgan was dying - had prepared them for the inevitable and the worst. That if Morgan didn't eat and re-hydrate and begin to regain strength soon, she would die.

They hadn't realized it, of course, but they had gotten to Morgan just in time. The Physician estimated that if they had gotten there even a few weeks later, Morgan would have already been dead.

The Physician had told them that both Luella and Morgan were extremely malnourished, and that Luella herself probably would not have lasted but a few more months. But that such horrendous and atrocious living conditions were far harder on children than adults.

The Physician then went on to list over thirty different things he found wrong with Morgan, in the few brief minutes he had examined her. Everything from lice to worms to fungi, severe muscle deterioration and wasting away of fat and tissue, anemia, diarrhea, skin rashes, edema, and possible heart failure. He explained how atrophy (wasting away) of the stomach weakens the perception of hunger, since the perception is controlled by the percentage of the stomach that is empty. Victims of starvation are often too weak to sense thirst, and therefore become dehydrated. All movements become painful due to muscle atrophy and dry, cracked skin that is caused by severe dehydration. With a weakened body, diseases are commonplace, of which the Physician listed several he had already observed; but expected he would discover more.

Then he explained how the energy deficiency inherent in starvation causes fatigue and renders the victim more apathetic over time. As the starving person becomes too weak to move or even eat, their interaction with the surrounding world diminishes.

Morgan was in her last days, and was indeed dying. Fortunately, the Physician believed they had gotten to her in time, while she still had a fighting chance to survive.

He gave Arthur a whole set of instructions, of things to monitor and to watch for, and very special dietary requirements and restrictions. He told them the hardest part, was going to be getting Morgan to eat. Getting her to drink enough fluids to re-hydrate herself, and remain hydrated, was going to be difficult enough. But as Morgan would likely never feel hungry, getting her to eat in order to introduce desperately needed nutrients into her system, was sure to pose the biggest problem of all.

Thus ... by the time they returned to the kitchen, the three of them were not surprised to see Morgan asleep on the floor, cuddled up against Luella in a corner, who was also asleep herself.

And though there was a spread of food on the table, Bors and Cook were shaking their heads. For neither Morgan nor Luella had eaten a thing.

# Chapter 44

_Three weeks later_

There was a funeral in Camelot.

There were several in attendance to the somber outdoor event, even though it was pouring down rain. Among those in attendance at the solemn memorial were Arthur, Accolon, Sagremor, Cook, Bors and even his wife Deorwynn. The mourners stood around the burial site, with heads bowed in reverence, paying tribute to the dearly departed.

The dearly departed was a lizard.

Morgan was also present, standing beside Arthur, while Luella stayed inside out the rain; for she had been suffering for two days with an upset stomach from something she had eaten.

While all stood around the tiny lizard grave, Morgan cocked her head at Arthur.

"Shhhh." Arthur said. "This is the part where we give the last rites."

Morgan then turned her head and looked at Alfred the Master Scribe, as he took a deep solemn breath, and then began his well-rehearsed and ... unfortunately, rather lengthy eulogy. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."

Morgan looked back at Arthur.

And Arthur shrugged. "It is what we do, when a loved one passes."

Morgan then looked down at the little lizard grave, in which lay was a tiny lizard coffin. Inside of which, lay a tiny lizard.

"Okay, so I did not actually ... 'love' the lizard. I desired to experience a funeral while it was about someone whom I did not care about."

Morgan looked back at Arthur.

"Not that I did not care about this lizard; for it was truly among my favorites."

With rain dripping from his protective helm, Sagremor looked across the gravesite to Arthur. "You ... are a strange, strange man."

Arthur returned Sagremor's look. "I do not think I care for how we do funerals. We should be celebrating his life, not merely mourning his death."

Sagremor chuckled. "You wish to celebrate the life of a lizard?"

Arthur grinned at Bors. "Of course! Bors, remember that time I put him inside your helmet just before battle practice and you began screaming and shouting?"

Bors growled at Arthur. "This was THAT foul creature!? Then good riddance, I say."

As Sagremor and Accolon began snickering, Alfred scowled at everyone. "Ahem. If you do not mind, please show a little more respect for our dearly departed." Then Alfred continued on with his lengthy eulogy while nobody listened.

"If this were a fallen Knight, for example..." Arthur continued explaining in a hushed voice, "...I think we should be doing more than just being sad. We should also be celebrating his life! For he has lived an entire life! We should be celebrating with food and with drink, toasting the great things he has done and the wonderful man that he was."

"That is not what funerals are for, young pup." Bors said. "And I have attended many. This is how we have always done things."

"I think we should do things differently. I think we should do more than mourn. We should also celebrate."

Bors and Accolon and Sagremor were looking at Arthur oddly.

Arthur shrugged. "Eh, I am still working out the kinks." Then he looked at Morgan. "Sister? What do you think?"

Morgan looked back down at the tiny lizard grave. And then she shrugged.

Arthur smiled at her and then put his protective arm around her. And as he did so, and while Alfred droned on with his long eulogy in the rain, Arthur's mind began to wander as it so often did during Alfred's long lectures . . .

*** *** ***

Arthur had lasted three days, after Morgan had first arrived, before he couldn't take it any longer and asked Morgan if he could hug her. Morgan had looked at Arthur in surprise, but she didn't appear frightened. So it was that Arthur had given his sister his first brotherly embrace.

Morgan didn't reciprocate the embrace, as she simply stood there while Arthur gently put his arms around her. But from that day forward, Arthur had made it a habit to hug her each and every day.

The lizard's funeral actually marked the first time Arthur had casually put his arm around his sister. And Morgan didn't seem to mind. She didn't seem to mind when he hugged her each day, either; though she still never responded in any way.

Morgan still had never spoken a word. The vast majority of the time, she remained glued to Luella and never left her side. Morgan slept with her at night, in their own room at the castle, and she always 'ate' meals sitting closely at Luella's side. They didn't really 'eat', so much, as they merely 'nibbled' at their food.

Though Luella, especially, was doing better and seemed to be able adapt to regular eating much better than Morgan. For Luella had grown up in a real home with a real family and had once known such things, before she unfortunately was purchased as a servant for Duke Gorlois of Cornwall.

Morgan, however, was not adapting as well, and it was only by Luella's continuing insistence that Morgan would reluctantly eat more than a single bite or a nibble. The others quickly realized that Luella carried the greater influence with Morgan and Morgan always did what Luella would say. But even Luella had a difficult time getting Morgan to eat more than a bite or two, and it always seemed to take a very long time.

Finally, the Physician worked out with Cook, 'liquid nutrient' drinks, which though they smelled awful, Morgan seemed to have an easier time getting those down. But ... Morgan was improving. And the Master Physician was pleased with Morgan's progress, even though it was slower than he preferred.

The very first night that Luella and Morgan had been brought to Castle Camelot, after they had bathed, Cook had given each of them one of her own dresses from her own closet. They were very plain simple cotton dresses, for Cook had never cared for extravagant things, though her salary could have afforded her such. Morgan's dress had to be altered for her small size; but the clean and comfortable mousy brown dress instantly became Morgan's next favorite article of clothing in all the world; second only to Accolon's shirt - which she always wore at night when she slept. And though others tried to get Morgan to accept new dresses, it was only the one single dress which she had first been given as a gift ... her very first dress ... which would always be her single-most wondrous and most favoritest dress above all others; and one she insisted upon wearing each and every day.

Arthur never learned of most of the details, as to how Bors and Accolon and Sagremor had first found Morgan and the evils they had discovered within the home of Gorlois. Bors had determined it was best for Arthur, that he didn't know of what all they had found; as even Accolon and Sagremor were still haunted by what they had seen. Bors told Arthur it was enough that he knew it was bad, and he left it at that. Arthur didn't push the matter, as he wasn't sure he wanted to hear all the details, either; at least not yet. But he was determined to someday find out; perhaps after Morgan's recovery and rehabilitation was complete. For that was Arthur's primary focus and number one priority.

They had learned a few interesting things from Luella, though it wasn't much. Luella had known that Igraine had been brought by Gorlois to the castle at Cornwall. And they learned that Luella had been present at Morgan's birth. It was Luella who had been assigned as Morgan's caretaker after the birthing, thus Luella had been taken away and consigned to the catacombs below the duke's castle. But Luella had never known what had happened to Igraine after that; nor had she known that Igraine was the wife of Uther. But she had surmised that Igraine had likely been killed.

As Luella's story began to unfold, she explained to Arthur and the others how immediately after the birthing, Igraine had tried to protect Morgan from an outraged Gorlois by shielding the infant with her body, even as Gorlois began pummeling Igraine and beating her with his fists; for Gorlois was furious with Igraine for bearing him yet another daughter instead of a son. As Luella knew nothing of Igraine's background, she believed Gorlois' claims that the infant daughter was his. Gorlois finally gave up trying to take the newborn from Igraine who was curled up in a protective ball.

That was when he ordered Luella to attempt to take the baby away. Igraine willingly gave the baby up to Luella, whom Igraine trusted, knowing it was Morgan's only chance. Luella looked into Igraine's pleading eyes and whispered her oath: _'With my life.'_ Taking the child in her hands, Luella rushed out of the birthing room before Gorlois could stop her; thereby allowing Gorlois to take out his full wrath upon Igraine.

Luella never saw Igraine after that.

And once Gorlois' rage had been sated by his dealing with Igraine and he had cooled off somewhat, he ordered Luella and the baby to be banished to the catacombs, while he went to go and speak with his 'Master' and to 'dedicate' his four sons.

Luella had never known who Gorlois' 'Master' was; except that the Master's name was Fallow and that Gorlois would always be gone at least a day or two while he visited his Master's lair.

It was while Gorlois and his four sons were gone when Uther showed up in Cornwall. After Uther ransacked the castle searching for Igraine and killing everyone who came across his path, it was three days before Gorlois finally returned. By then Uther was gone, but the armies of House Pendragon had just arrived. While staying of out sight, Gorlois had found himself seized of all of his assets and holdings and revoked of his station and dukedom. Gorlois then became a fugitive and had been on the run ever since.

Bors expressed surprise to Luella that his armies had never discovered the entrance to the catacombs, for they had searched for Gorlois, covering every inch of Gorlois' estate. Luella explained that the only known entrance to the catacombs was via a cave entrance by the sea, nearly a mile away.

When Gorlois finally returned days later to discover what had happened, with a handful of surviving servants, he took Luella and the infant Morgan from the catacombs, along with his own four sons, and fled.

The next thing Luella knew, days later she was literally thrown down into a deep hole in the ground, resulting in broken legs and feet. A few hours later, Gorlois brought the infant Morgan down and handed the child to Luella. The only thing Gorlois told her, was that it was her job to keep the baby alive, for he vowed to someday seek his revenge against Uther.

It was only after Gorlois descended back up the ladder that Luella discovered that the infant had been cut with a knife. And from that day forward, every time there was a new moon, Gorlois would come down the ladder and 'bleed' Morgan into a bowl, and then take the bowl back up the ladder to use in his nefarious rituals.

He would once in a while drop food down into the hole, though there was no set time or pattern; the few scraps of food only came when Gorlois happened to think about it. Their water was supplied by the small spring that trickled through their underground cavern; though the water was bitter and tasted like sulfur.

By the time Morgan was one year of age, Gorlois had demanded that Morgan be kept in the lower pit he had dug out and Luella was forbidden to join her. Gorlois never explained why; only that he seemed to have great contempt for the child and an ongoing vengeful spite against Uther.

And so it was, that from the time Morgan was a baby, the primary human touch Morgan ever knew was Luella reaching down to her from above. And that was how their private 'language' was born.

Those new moons were the only times Gorlois came down; with the exception of three separate occasions. Those were the times where Morgan had become so extremely sick, that Luella would call up to Gorlois, pleading for the child's life. Gorlois did eventually come down, and he took the child with him to see a local medicine man. Gorlois would bring Morgan back the following day, and within weeks the child would slowly improve. Gorlois even dropped extra food down the hole for the first few days after each trip to the medicine man; probably as according to the medicine man's directions.

On those three occasions, Morgan had been ages 2, 4 and 7. Morgan couldn't tell Luella much about her experiences out in the world the first two times; as she had been nearly sick to death and unconscious. It was the same as when Morgan was 7; for when Gorlois took her away, Morgan was limp and only barely conscious. But by the time Morgan returned, she was completely recovered! And Morgan had remembered many interesting things from that particular trip.

As Gorlois had waited to travel until just after sundown, the first thing Morgan remembered seeing was the vast early evening blue sky; filled with stars and a brilliant white shiny moon! And color! Morgan had never before seen color! Though it was dusk, she could still make out green grass and trees. It had been an incredibly amazing experience for her. And so after Morgan had returned from her trip to the Physician, Luella began to teach Morgan about colors.

But Morgan told Luella about other incredibly amazing events that had taken place on that trip.. Gorlois had tied Morgan to a tree while he went inside a local market to purchase supplies, based upon the medicine man's orders. And while he was inside, Morgan described two visitors who approached her. One was a tall man with long white hair, wearing a brown cloak and carrying a staff. The other was a young girl about the same age as Morgan. But the girl was so beautiful she took Morgan's breath away. And the girl actually smiled at Morgan! In the light of nearby torches, Morgan could see that her hair was a deep shiny black; so black it almost seemed blue!

The tall man then knelt down beside Morgan, who was too weak to move or crawl away in fright. And the man gently touched her head.

And suddenly! Morgan felt better! Completely all better!

Then, the beautiful young girl gave Morgan a small wooden carving of a dove, saying that her 'Grandfather' had made it for her, and that she wished to give it to Morgan as a gift.

Of course, Morgan never said a word and could only stare in awe and wonder. The tall man and the girl then said 'goodbye' and that they hoped to see her again sometime at the market.

When Gorlois brought Morgan back from the trip to the physician, she was full of energy and filled with joy and wonder at her special gift and her newfound 'friend' and she excitedly and repeatedly told Luella all about her wondrous and amazing trip, over and over again, daily and nightly, and never leaving out a single detail.

And though Morgan was once again returned to her dark hole in the ground, Morgan now had wondrous experiences she could live over and over again in her mind. And she was very happy for a very long time.

*** *** ***

While Alfred the Master Scribe continued on with his very long eulogy and Arthur was thinking back over the things he had learned about Morgan over the past three weeks, the 'lizard funeral' was rudely interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

Suddenly from out of nowhere, a hawk swooped down, right in the very midst of the group of 'mourners' and snatched the little lizard from its grave; little lizard coffin and all.

Morgan gasped in horror and clapped her hand to her mouth, as the mourners watched the hawk fly away with the body of her brother's beloved pet lizard.

Even Alfred was stunned, as he had instantly ceased his most eloquent speech.

Arthur frowned as the hawk disappeared over the castle roof. Then he shrugged. "Oh, well. I guess that ends that."

The rest of the mourners hid grateful smiles as they all turned to head back into the warm castle and out of the driving rain.

Leaving poor Alfred all alone and slightly discouraged; for he was just about to get to the best part of his speech!

Finally, Alfred sighed and rolled up his scroll. But as he began walking back to the Office of the Scribe, his eyes brightened; for he had just thought of a whole new section of material he could add to his eulogy; something he was most certain was be even more inspiring that this last one. And Alfred merrily walked away, excitedly looking forward to polish up his speech for the next opportunity.

# Chapter 45

Two days later, Arthur finally received his reply from the message he had sent off to King Eldon of Cadwell. Bors happened to be present when the messenger arrived. After Arthur read the message, he sighed and handed it to Bors:

_Arthur Pendragon, you are hereby charged with crimes against my kingdom. You have raided the house of my subjects and have unlawfully stolen the beloved daughter of 'former' Duke Gorlois of Cornwall. Consider yourself fortunate it was merely a daughter. Had it been a son, you would know our wrath. Know this, Arthur Pendragon, Gorlois opposes you as heir. We believe his claims to be true, that you are the illegitimate bastard of a harlot and the product of rape. We do not recognize you as the rightful heir to the throne. Your mad and unbalanced father may have revoked Gorlois' title and station, but Gorlois is now under my sovereign protection. You are not the High King, Arthur Pendragon. Stay out of my kingdom. Cross my borders again without my permission and there shall be war between us._

_-King Eldon of House Cadwell_

# Chapter 46

Over the next several weeks, Morgan's health steadily improved. Though she still ate very little, at least she was eating; and the Master Physician's special diet that he had prescribed for both Morgan and Luella, seemed to be doing wonders. Morgan was still very small for her age, and still very thin; but she no longer looked emaciated and malnourished. Even her skin was beginning to look healthy.

The Master Physician had completed his initial treatments upon the two of them; including resetting several of Luella's bones and treating Morgan's infected cuts and 're-cutting' and stitching up the more serious ones. Luella was now getting around with the help of crutches until the healing had finished, after which the Master Physician was confident Luella would fully recover with full mobility and no more pain. Even Morgan's cuts were healing well, and in time, the Physician believed most of her scars would be hardly noticeable.

Morgan still hadn't spoken to anyone; other than her frequent 'conversations' with Luella. But her fearfulness and apprehension had all but abated, as Morgan slowly grew more comfortable with her new surroundings. Arthur was very careful about allowing others into the castle however, for new people and strangers always seemed to cause her to regress. Other than occasionally going into the central castle atrium or the back grassy area just outside the kitchen, Morgan always remained inside her room in the castle where she seemed to feel safest and the most secure. Only Bors and Accolon and Sagremor were allowed to visit, which they did daily. Morgan never spoke to them, either; though Arthur did notice a very slight sparkle in Morgan's eye each time Accolon stopped by.

Luella was adapting much more quickly; for she had actually known a life prior to Gorlois. Arthur had learned that Luella had gone deaf as a result of a childhood illness, and that initially, the idea of serving at the duke's castle as a nursemaiden seemed like a boon to an unwanted deaf woman. Unfortunately for Luella, that had quickly turned into a nightmare.

As for Morgan, about the only people Morgan felt comfortable being alone with, was Luella of course, and Arthur. And sometimes, Cook. Though Morgan never spoke or demonstrated affection, she seemed to be slowly growing attached to her brother; something which greatly pleased Luella.

One morning after First Meal, Luella asked Arthur if she could speak to him in private. After they entered the Royal Receiving Room and closed the door, Luella turned to Arthur and humbly bowed.

Arthur groaned. "Luella, how many times have I told you to stop doing that?"

Luella smiled at him. "May I begin by saying 'Thank you', for the wonderful thing you have done for us."

Arthur shook his head. "You tell me this each and every day, Luella. And as I tell you each and every day, you are welcome and it is my pleasure and honor to have you with us. You are an angel sent from above, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you were there for my sister. You shall always hold a special and high honor among those in this house. Whatever you desire, it is yours."

"Thank you again, Arthur."

Arthur grinned. "At least I finally managed to get you to start calling me Arthur."

Luella smiled. "There is one thing I would ask of you, Arthur."

"Of course, Luella! If it within my power to grant it to you, it shall be done. What is it that you would ask of me?"

"It concerns your sister, Morgan. It is my conviction that Morgan needs a closer bond with you."

"Oh? What sort of bond?"

"You know that Morgan sleeps with me at night. As much as I enjoy having Morgan close to me, I think it would be better for her to develop stronger ties to you, being that you are her brother. I believe it would help with her maturing. Though she appears much younger, Morgan is, after all, around ten years of age. She is not so far away from you in her age."

"I know, Luella; she is only one year younger than I. What do you suggest?"

"I have spoken with the Master Physician and he agrees with me. We think ... Morgan should begin sleeping with you. On the floor, of course; for she does not yet feel secure in a bed."

"Which ... is why ... both of you still sleep upon the floor."

"It is all I have known for more than ten years. It is all Morgan has ever known."

"You are suggesting placing Morgan's bedding beside my bed upon the floor?"

"I think it would be good for Morgan. To begin weaning her away from me and to begin building trust with another."

Arthur thought to himself for a moment. "I would certainly never be opposed to this. But do you think Morgan could even do such a thing?"

"I shall be difficult for her, at first, that is true. But she is strong. I think she shall endure, and she shall adapt. The Master Physician said this should be a good next step in her rehabilitation."

Arthur smiled. "That sounds like our Physician's words, all right."

"I should warn you, however; Morgan still often has nightmares. You may sometimes not know much sleep."

"You had told me her nightmares were lessening."

"They are; but she still has them on occasion."

"How do you calm her?"

Luella smiled at Arthur and raised her hand. "May I show you?"

"Of course, Luella." Arthur said, lowering his head for her.

And then Luella began patting out a sequence of pats and taps and moving her hand in circles atop Arthur's head.

"Can you remember that?" Luella asked.

Arthur raised his head and smiled back, raising his hand. "May I try?"

"Of course!"

And Arthur proceeded to pat out the same exact response on Luella's head. "Did I get it right?"

"Arthur! That is very good! You have done it perfectly right, the first time!"

"I confess, I have been watching you two communicate, trying to learn the patterns. In truth, I was planning to ask you to teach me some of your language. Alfred had taught me several languages and he says I learn quickly. Uh ... when I pay attention, that is."

"You do learn quickly! I am very pleased!"

"So you will teach me?"

"Of course, Arthur! I would be most happy to teach you."

"Luella? I know Morgan has the capacity to speak. Does she ... ever?"

"Yes. Morgan can speak. She speaks to me when we are alone; but those are the only times."

"Did she ever ... speak much ... when she was..."

"We were kept in the dark, so I could not see her lips as she spoke. And as I am deaf, I could not hear her words. But I have tried to teach Morgan to speak since she was very young; at least, as best as I knew how."

Arthur shook his head in amazement. "How can a deaf person, teach someone to speak? I find that ... astounding. You are an amazing woman, Luella; truly you are an angel."

Luella looked down in embarrassment. "I was quite adequate at speech before my illness caused my deafness as a child. But I was only a child; I am sure I did a poor job. Morgan's speech is not advanced as it should be. But I did the best that I could."

"I understand you made Morgan exercise each day; to help maintain her strength."

"Yes. We had a daily routine of things we would do each and every day." Then Luella laughed. "Her favorite was playing games."

"WHAT!? How could you play games down there!?"

Luella smiled and patted her own head.

"Really?" Arthur asked, as his eyes began to grow misty. Arthur paused to wipe his eyes. "Sorry, the more I grow to love Morgan, the harder it is for me to hear some of these things. But truly!? You taught her to play games ... through your language!?"

"Yes." Luella smiled. "It was her favorite thing to do."

"You know...I have a difficult time picturing her playing games. I never see her smile. I have never heard her laugh. It is hard for me to imagine."

"Morgan is a child as any other. When we are alone ... and only when we are alone ... then she smiles. Then she laughs."

"Ah. So ... Morgan is uncomfortable expressing herself when she is around others."

"Yes. In truth, you would be surprised to know she can be very ... excitable. Morgan loves new things. And she would always become very, very excited when I would think of a new game for us to play."

Arthur gave Luella a sad smile.. "I cannot even picture Morgan being ... excitable."

Luella laughed. "As Morgan grows to be more comfortable around you, I think you shall be very surprised as to just how excitable she can sometimes get."

Arthur sighed. "I would love to see that side of her."

"This is why I say, Arthur, I think it is important for Morgan to strengthen her bond with you. To begin spending more time with you, and ... less time with me."

Arthur reached and rested his hand Luella's on shoulder. "You are very attached to Morgan."

Luella looked down and nodded.

"I would have to believe you would be; and for a great many reasons. I cannot begin to imagine how close you two must be."

Luella shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"May I ask you a question, Luella?"

"Of course."

"What did you like to do when you were growing up?"

Luella smiled. "We lived in a small village. My father was a carpenter. I had two brothers and one sister. My mother ... she loved to work in her garden. I spent much of my time with my mother in her garden. Those are among my happiest of memories."

Arthur grinned at her. "You know, I have always wished to have flowers. But we have not had a gardener for many years."

"I must confess, I was surprised to learn you had but one servant."

"Cook loves to cook. And she loves what she does, just as Alfred the Master Scribe loves what he does and our Master Physician loves what he does. I like it when people love what they do. I think that is very important."

Luella nodded.

"Luella, you have spent the past ten years in a dark hole in the ground, never once seeing the sun. How would you like to be our Royal Gardner, Luella?"

"WHAT!?"

"You said your happiest memories were gardening with your mother. This way you can be outside, again. And at the same time, still remain close to Morgan. I will provide you with your own room, right here in the castle, so you would never be far from Morgan. Castle Camelot would be your permanent home. And with full salary, of course." Arthur winked. "That should buy you some nice new clothes from the Marketplace, I would think."

Luella put her hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

"So is that a 'yes'?" Arthur grinned.

Luella answered Arthur by throwing her arms around his neck accompanied with much weeping.

*** *** ***

It took some time for Luella to finally calm down. It wasn't until they heard a soft knock on the door, that Luella quickly began trying to regain her composure; for they suspected that the soft knock belonged to Morgan.

While Luella was wiping her eyes, Arthur walked over and opened the door. When he saw Morgan standing there in her mousy brown dress with a very worried look on her face out of concern for Luella, Arthur smiled. "Sister, be not alarmed. Luella is not sad; she cries for reasons of happiness."

Looking to Luella for confirmation, Luella smiled at Morgan and held out her arms. Morgan came rushing and over and Arthur was surprised to see Morgan wrap her little arms tightly around Luella; for he had never seen Morgan offer such a public display of affection, before. Immediately the 'patting of heads' began as Luella sought to quickly alleviate Morgan's concerns.

A short time later, Morgan then wiped tears from her own eyes, for she had become very happy and excited for Luella for the wondrous thing Arthur had just done for her.

Then it was, that Morgan finally turned back around and faced Arthur. Still with tears in her eyes, Morgan looked at Arthur, and uttered her very first words since arriving at Camelot.

"Thank you."

# Chapter 47

It was June. And the past several months had proven to be a full and extraordinary time in the lives of many people.

The next major event that took place was related to Frederick. For the very next day after Morgan had spoken her first words, Frederick had awoken.

He had no idea where he was, nor did he have any memory of where he had been. Frederick didn't even know who he was. Or anybody else, for that matter. Nor could he remember anything for more than a few minutes before his brain would 'reboot' and his mind would return back to a blank slate, starting the process all over again in an endless cycle.

Which was more than a little tough for poor Katelyn. But at the same time, she was incredibly grateful to once more see his eyes open and awake. And even though it hurt that Frederick didn't recognize his own wife, Katelyn was blessed to at least see his eyes sparkle every time he looked at her.

And it gave her hope. Hope that one day, Frederick's memories might return. Or ... at the very least ... that his new memories would at least remain. But his eyes always truly sparkled at Katelyn and he was always very happy to see her; even though he was constantly meeting her for the very first time.

The Master Physician was astounded that Frederick was doing as well as was, for he had been skeptical that Frederick would ever recover at all. And thus he told Katelyn to have hope; that one day Frederick might actually get better. And that was all the hope that she needed.

In addition to Frederick enjoying being around Katelyn, he also seemed to like being around Arthur. Which in a strange yet comforting way, went a long way towards helping relieve Arthur of some of his guilt for what had happened to Frederick. It was almost as if Frederick was somehow ... in some way ... and in his own way ... telling Arthur that he didn't hold Arthur to blame. At least, that was how Arthur seemed to take it. And as Arthur could see into a person's heart, no one doubted what Arthur seemed to see.

Because Frederick seemed to like being around both Katelyn and Arthur, the decision was made, to bring Frederick into the castle during the day and then return back home again with Katelyn at night. Eventually, it would turn into a 'day job' for Frederick, and would officially make Frederick the third servant who worked at Castle Camelot.

*** *** ***

As far as Morgan was concerned, the following week after Luella had made her suggestion about Morgan sleeping in Arthur's room, Morgan had reluctantly but bravely consented.

Not because she was afraid of Arthur, but because was terrified at the idea of being separated from Luella. But at the same time, Morgan was also extremely grateful to Arthur for blessing Luella with such a 'wondrous gift' - which were Morgan's own words - as to work outside in the gardens. For Luella had often described for Morgan during their dark years in the pit, her beautiful garden back home. It had been difficult for Luella to describe things such as flowers, however; for Morgan had no concept of things such as ... clouds or the sun or the beauty of nature. The only colors Morgan had ever seen before had been at night.

Thus, from the day Morgan had first been released from her prison since birth, Morgan saw wonder everywhere she looked. For everywhere Morgan looked she saw wonder.

During Morgan's first few weeks and months at the castle, she had remained very guarded and never expressed her wonder to anyone, other than Luella at night, of course; where Morgan would tell Luella of all the wondrous things she had seen that day.

The day Morgan first saw a rainbow cost Luella an entire night of sleep.

And so a big part of the reason why Morgan was so reluctant to leave Luella at night, was because that was the only time Morgan had been comfortable to 'let loose' everything she had been bottling up inside of her all day; of all the wondrous things she had seen.

Thus ... once Morgan began sleeping in Arthur's room, she was also being forced to communicate with Luella during the daytime and in public, instead of only at night when they were alone.

The first few nights were rough, as Arthur would oftentimes hear her crying on the floor beside him. Not from nightmares so much, but from missing being with Luella. The first thing Arthur would do when he heard Morgan crying, would be to reach down from his bed and put his hand on her head ... and begin to 'communicate' with her - telling her that he loved her and that everything would be okay.

It would usually calm her down fairly quickly; though sometimes it took a little longer. By the second week, Arthur finally managed to begin getting Morgan to 'communicate' back; saying simple things, such as ... 'Thank you' or ... 'I am content'.

By the third week, Morgan communicated back to Arthur for the first time, about something she had seen that day; something which worried her, and so she questioned Arthur about it. The moon seemed to be getting ... 'smaller' each day and that it was almost gone.

Arthur chuckled and answered her, both through hand signals and verbally, about cycles of the moon and that the moon always would 'come back'.

But Arthur could sense that Morgan still seemed troubled, especially when she asked about the cycle known as the 'new moon'. And then Arthur understood why it bothered her so much. It was because of what Gorlois would always do to Morgan during each new moon.

Now with Arthur, on the actual night of the new moon, Morgan never spoke in any form; but instead trembled in fear the entire night; and Arthur could do nothing to calm her. Luella had forewarned him that would be the case, and so he finally had to go and get Luella, who came in and rocked Morgan in her arms for the rest of the night.

By this time, Arthur found himself wishing Bors would tell him more of what they had found when they rescued Morgan; but neither Bors or anyone else; not even Luella - under Bors' strict orders - would ever say anything more. And Bors even told Arthur the reason why; he didn't want to see Arthur turn into a vengeful mirror image of his father.

But after the new moon passed, the following night Morgan slept peacefully throughout the night; the first time she slept through in days.

It would become a pattern that would stay with Morgan, unfortunately, for a long time. For there were some scars, that not even the Master Physician could heal.

Once they got through the hurdle of their first new moon, Arthur began trying a new tactic during the night. Communicating less through sign language and more through verbal. Arthur was surprised, but Morgan adapted rather quickly. For by that time, she had grown a little more comfortable with telling him of some of the 'wondrous' things she had seen each day. And by the second month, their communication during the night had become increasingly verbal.

Except for the two or three days just before the new moon; where Morgan would revert and wouldn't speak at all. But other than those times, Morgan eventually seemed to grow content with sleeping in Arthur's room on the floor, next to her brother's bed.

As long as she knew Luella was nearby in the next room.

Luella was extremely happy for the changes she had begun seeing taking place in Morgan, and for the caring and nurturing love of her brother. Not to mention Luella's own wonderful fortune of a safe new home. Thus it was, that Luella concurred with Bors; that because of Arthur, all of their lives had been magically touched and radically changed and wonderfully blessed. And that Arthur was indeed, a star from heaven.

# ~ Destiny ~

# Chapter 48

_Twelve year Birth Celebration_

It was now August. And that evening was to be Arthur's twelfth birth celebration and his official passage into manhood.

The guests at his birth celebration party had grown in number significantly since the previous year, and Cook had to make several more cakes.

This time, Bors had his own cake all to himself.

There was much to celebrate and much to recall and even more to look forward to. Everyone was there, even Frederick and Katelyn. And even though Frederick didn't know where he was or who the other people were or what the heck they were all doing, he still seemed to be genuinely happy and had a pleasant time meeting new friends.

He even got a kiss from that pretty girl named Katelyn! Just for remembering her name!

This year, Arthur managed to finish his entire tankard of ale, and Bors rewarded him with a second. He never got very far on that one, though.

It was also Morgan's first experience at a Birth Celebration; and Arthur noticed that Luella seemed a little bit sad. And he knew the reason why, of course. Because Luella had explained at an earlier time, that although she had been present at Morgan's birth, by that point in time Luella had no idea what day or month or even what season it was.

But it didn't seem to bother Morgan at all, that she didn't know when her birth celebration might be. In fact, Morgan really preferred to not think about her own birth. She had gathered bits and pieces, though she didn't know all. But Morgan knew enough that her 'birthing day' had not been an especially happy day. So, as far as she was concerned, Morgan had no desire to learn the day of her birth, much less celebrate her birth. She was quite content to be happy for others, though; and for Morgan, that was enough.

So ... since Arthur had known that Morgan had no known day of birth, he had asked Cook to prepare one additional cake; one which had Morgan's name on it, and the number 11. Arthur figured that since he had turned twelve, and that Morgan was somewhere around a year or so younger, that they could make it a dual celebration and officially 'graduate' Morgan to age eleven.

It had been a surprise, as only Arthur and Cook had known about it. Naturally, Morgan's eyes bugged out of her head when she saw her very own cake with her very own name on it. And as Morgan squealed in delight, Luella leaned over and kissed Arthur on the cheek.

Now, though Morgan's health was improving, she was still fairly weak and frail and still tired very easily. By the time Morgan finished eating her miniscule sliver of cake ... which was all she could handle eating at one sitting ... Morgan was beginning to show signs of sleepiness. Thus, Luella offered to take Morgan to Arthur's room where she would put Morgan down to sleep, and thereby allowing the others to continue their celebration into the night.

*** *** ***

After Luella and Morgan had gone, Arthur turned and looked at Bors. "I still say she is not Gorlois' daughter. How can she be? My mother was not with Gorlois long enough to become pregnant and to bear a child. I say my mother was already with child when Gorlois came for her."

Bors shrugged. "It was so long ago; we are uncertain as to who her father might be. If it was not Gorlois..."

"Do you think ... my father?"

"I do not know, young pup. Who can know such a thing?"

"I have worked out the figures, and I think it might be possible."

"Uther had once told me he had not known Igraine to be with child, when he first left to join us to reclaim the throne from Vortigern."

"I still think it is possible. I have done the math."

Sagremor chuckled. "You have become a physician, now? I did not think you even knew of such things, as to how long a woman carries a child."

Arthur frowned. "I have had much education. I have paid attention to my lessons from Alfred."

Bors snorted.

"Well, I HAVE paid attention! Mostly. Sometimes."

"Mostly not." Bors grinned. "If one were to go by Alfred's account."

"Morgan believes Gorlois is her father." said Accolon. "So she had spoken."

"That is only because of what Gorlois has told her." Arthur argued. "It does not mean it is true. The point is, I think it is possible that my father is actually Morgan's father; and not Gorlois."

"And how would you propose to verify this, young pup? To my knowledge, there is no means to dispute Gorlois' claim to parentage."

"I shall speak with my father." Arthur replied. "Perhaps he might offer new insight that might help us learn the truth."

"Surely you jest." Bors said, seriously. "You know your father is not in his right mind."

"I think sometimes ... perhaps he might be able to think better while he is fishing."

"What!?"

"Bors, I keep thinking about that time I heard him conversing with my mother, and how he referred to himself as the 'Fisher King'."

"May I remind you, young pup, that your mother is not actually there while he ... uh ... 'converses' with her?"

"I know; it is all in his mind. But it does not change the fact that he sometimes refers to himself as the Fisher King."

"That is the meaning of the name he had once given himself while in exile, yes. He went by the name of Pelleas; just as Igraine went by the name of Regan. It is how they kept their identities secret."

"I know all of that, Bors. It is just ... I am fairly certain ... well, almost certain, that I think I know where my father goes when he is away."

"Which is most all of the time." said Sagremor. "So where is it that you think he goes?"

Arthur sighed and looked into his tankard. "Fishing."

Bors raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"When my father leaves, he goes ... fishing."

"Fishing?"

"Uh huh."

"All these years that he is away? You think he goes ... fishing?"

"I think that somehow, fishing soothes him and that he can think clearer. I think the only reason he comes back here at all to visit is out of a sense of responsibility. I also think ... that I might know where he is."

"You know ... where he goes fishing?"

"It is only a guess. Can I ask you something, Bors?"

"Will you stop asking my permission to ask me something, young pup? How many times do I have to tell you, you are the High Prince. You do not ... 'ask'."

Arthur sighed. "Anyway ... you were the one who first went and retrieved my father from that refugee village."

"Indeed. I had been sent by his brother Ambrosius to call Uther back to join him as they retook the throne."

"You know where that village is."

Bors looked at Arthur in surprise.

"Yes, Bors; I know the village was destroyed. But my question to you is this: were there lakes or rivers near that village?"

"Yes. There was a river which fed into a nearby lake. That was where he once encamped near the village. You think that is where he goes?"

"Like I said, it is only a guess. But I would like you to take me there."

Bors looked at Arthur for a long time. Finally... "Very well. But only if you command me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You cannot be serious."

"You are twelve years of age, as of this day. You are now a man, and it is well beyond the time for you to learn to issue commands. I shall take you, my Prince. But only if you command me."

Arthur sighed. "Fine. Consider it ... you know ... a command."

Bors smiled and clapped his fist to his chest. "I shall obey the command of my High Prince."

"Don't overdo it, Bors."

Bors chuckled and the men toasted each other and Arthur, in honor of Arthur's first official command as a 'man'.

"When do we leave, my Prince?" Bors grinned.

"My name is Arthur!"

Bors laughed and repeated his question. "When do we leave, my Prince?"

Arthur groaned. "We leave tomorrow at first light. I shall go and tell Luella we shall be gone for a time."

"What about us?" asked Accolon. "Should we also not join along?"

"Yes." Arthur replied. "It is a week's journey; and we may see trouble. The four of us should go."

Accolon and Sagremor clapped their fists to their chests and bowed their heads in respect. "Wherever our High Prince commands us, we shall go." they said in unison.

"Oh, not you, too!"

# Chapter 49

_One week later_

The river by the lake was easily found. But Uther was not so easily found. It took two days to finally locate him.

Bors and the other two Knights remained a short distance behind with Arthur's horse, as Arthur made his way down towards the river's shore, where Uther was sitting against a tree ... fishing.

Surrounding Uther was an encampment that looked like it had been there for years. Lying beside Uther on the ground was a sword, while Uther himself was wearing only a dirty tunic and long undergarments. He also looked like he had been wearing those things for a very long time.

Uther did not look healthy. He was pale and bone thin. And though there was a large pile of fish next to him, it looked like the fish had also been there a long time. Uther didn't seem to be interested in fishing for reasons of eating.

As Arthur approached him from behind, Uther greeted him without turning his head. "Hello, son."

"Father? You knew I was coming?"

"The raven spoke to me of your coming."

"You have seen the raven!?"

"You are not the only one to have seen him, son."

Arthur had seen the mysterious black raven several times during his lifetime. But he was always afraid to mention it to anyone, as no one else seemed to see it. Bors had always looked at Arthur oddly when he mentioned seeing the raven as a young boy - that only he could see - and so Arthur had ceased mentioning it years ago.

Of course, the fact that his 'mad' father had also seen the raven just now made it all the worse. Arthur was even more worried that one day, he might end up mad, like his father.

"How are you feeling, Father? You do not look well."

"I have known better days. Sit with me, son. I have words I wish to say to you."

Arthur sat down next to his father, and was surprised when Uther lowered his fishing pole and put his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "I am sorry, son. I try to fight this, but I cannot. My mind is ... wrong. I am losing this battle, son. I can no longer think clearly. Except ... once in a while when I am fishing."

"Is that the only time when your mind ... works?"

Uther nodded. "Although in recent days, even here I am unable to focus for long. I fear the day shall soon come when I cannot awake from this fog at all."

Arthur nodded, seeing that his father's days indeed seemed to be nearing the end, due to his health having deteriorated so much.

"It has not been easy for me, son, to have you see me like this. When the raven first spoke of your coming, my first thoughts were to flee."

"Why then, did you stay?"

"I do not think I shall be afforded another opportunity to tell you that I love you, son. And that of all my regrets, my greatest is that I was not there for you."

"I have known you loved me, father. Truly, I have always known. Bors ... has been good to me. Thank you for asking him to watch over me. That is all the proof that I need."

Uther smiled and looked at Arthur. "You have grown. You are becoming a man."

Arthur grinned back. "I am now twelve. I am already a man!"

Uther chuckled. "Indeed you are, my son. Indeed you are. And Morgan? How is she?"

"You remember Morgan!?"

Uther nodded. "Morgan le Fay. It is the name I had once thought to name you, before I learned I had a son."

"You had thought you were having a daughter?"

Uther nodded.

"Is ... Morgan ... your daughter?"

Uther shrugged. "That, I know not. Only that I saw Regan in her face. Regan must have named her as such as she knew I had once chosen that name."

"Is ... 'Regan' what you always called my mother?"

"Others knew her name to be Igraine. To me, she shall always be Regan."

"Are you certain, father, that the body you had found ... was that of my mother?"

Uther reached into a pocket and pulled out an old worn white ribbon. "Yes. I am certain."

"Did that belong to my mother?"

Uther nodded. "It was once a part of her wedding dress. She wore it as a ribbon in her hair."

"You found this near her body?"

"Yes." Uther sighed. Then he handed the ribbon to Arthur. "You should have it, now."

"Father!" Arthur exclaimed. "I could not take this from you!"

"It is all I have had to remember her by. Now it is all you have to remember your mother by. Take it son; it now belongs to you."

Arthur remained quiet for a time, as he sat beside the peaceful lake, enjoying having his father's arm around him, while he held the precious white ribbon in his hand.

"I am going to see her again, soon." Uther smiled.

That's when the tears came to Arthur's eyes. "I do not want you to leave me, father."

"Do not weep for me, son. Things change. Times change. And rules change. So has the raven spoken to me. Soon you shall be the High King. You shall bring important changes to this land. And I know you shall make me proud."

"I ... have no idea how to be king."

"You think I do?" Uther smiled. "Follow your heart, son. Stay true and faithful to what your heart tells you. If you do that, you shall make for a great king."

"Has the raven told you this, as well?"

Uther looked Arthur directly in the eye. "Yes."

"Oh."

"I love you, son. Tell Morgan that I love her."

"I will, father. I promise."

"And your mother loves you both, too."

*** *** ***

It was the longest conversation Arthur had ever had with his father. And his father spoke the words as if they were to be his last. And Arthur would never forget the final words of his father; for they were indeed the last words spoken by High King Uther Pendragon.

Arthur continued sitting with his father until dark. For though Uther had once more disappeared into his haze, hours earlier, he never removed his arm from his son's shoulder.

*** *** ***

"He still exists, Bors. He is still in there, somewhere."

Arthur was talking with Bors and Accolon and Sagremor as they were mounting their horses, just as the sun was setting.

"Young pup, your father has done things..."

"I know, Bors. I know all about the people he has killed. Innocent men ... women ... servants ... and some say, even children; though I believe they greatly exaggerate. These things he did, were on that day in which he went mad."

"It was not the first time, young pup. Upon the day his brother Ambrosius was murdered, your father ordered the execution of 120 Concubines. I still hear their screams in my sleep."

Sagremor objected. "In defense of Uther, it was one of those very same Concubines who murdered Ambrosius! He had no way of knowing who was loyal and who was not."

"Still, I do not believe they all needed to die." Bors argued. "It is one thing to take the lives of those who attack us in battle. But there was no honor in what was done that day."

Arthur smiled at Bors. "I recall you once telling me you had thought that compared to Ambrosius, you had thought my father to be soft. Do you think I am soft?"

"I do."

"Yet, I have never heard you complain that I am soft."

"Perhaps ... I have grown soft, myself." Bors mused. "I have changed in many ways over the years, young pup; and you are largely to blame. You are much like your father, Arthur Pendragon; in some ways. Yet at the same time, you have grown to be very different. It is the areas which are different that I see to be your greatest strengths."

"The point is, I know he has done things. But I know my father, the man and friend you once knew, is still in there, somewhere."

"How can you know this? You say you can no longer see his heart. You say his heart is no longer there. Though he is awake, it is as if he is asleep. I am sorry, Arthur; but your father is no longer there."

"Sometimes he still weeps, Bors."

"Perhaps, but for what reason?"

"I know his health is fading. I have sat beside him this day for hours, watching him; though he no longer knew I was there. But something is still happening inside his mind. I can no longer see his heart, but I can still see his tears. And I can sometimes feel what my father is feeling."

"His wife..."

"No, Bors. This is different. I touch him when I see the tears. I can sense only one feeling of emotion."

"What?"

"Remorse."

Bors looked at Arthur in surprise. "Truly?"

"He remembers the things he has done, Bors. Though my father can no longer communicate, his mind is still there, somewhere, deep inside. When his tears flow now, it is due to remorse for the things he has done. This is why I say that the man you once knew, still exists in there, somewhere. For it is only that man, who could feel such deep remorse as I have felt."

After a long time of silence, Bors looked back towards the river. "Perhaps ... I might go and ... spend some time with him, before we leave. Do you think he can hear my words?"

"I do not know, Bors. I do not think so. But I talk to him anyway, just in case he can hear my words. And I tell him that I love him; just in case he can hear."

"Thank you, young pup. If what you say is true, then there is a good friend in there I have not talked to ... in a very long time. I, uh ... I might be a while."

Arthur smiled as Bors turned and walked towards the evening lake.

"Should we leave him, Arthur?" Accolon asked. "It does not seem right to leave the High King behind when he cannot care for himself."

Arthur shook his head. "My father said he did not like me seeing him this way. I think ... that this is what he wants. It seems ... right, somehow. We shall leave him in peace, where he knows the most peace."

# Chapter 50

_One year later_

During the initial few weeks and months following Morgan's first arrival at Camelot, Morgan spent the vast majority of her time with Luella. But after Luella and Arthur had their talk about the importance of Morgan bonding with Arthur, Morgan gradually began to transition to spending more and more time with her brother; for such is the process of weaning and maturing.

At first, Arthur wouldn't venture too far from Luella out in the back gardens, so that Morgan could always look and see her; and sometimes run over to 'check in' for a quick hug of confirmation. But over time, Arthur managed to pull Morgan farther and farther away.

While it was certainly a little frightening for Morgan, she was also extremely curious about every little thing. Ants, for example, always seemed to hold Morgan's fascination for a very long time. Soon, Arthur would be able to take Morgan to other 'far away' places such as the royal stables, so that she could spend time with the horses. They always tended to frighten her, because of their overwhelming size. But at the same time she liked them and eventually gave all of them names; something which ordinarily wasn't done in those days.

And so it was, that over time Morgan really began to enjoy spending time with her brother, as he was always taking her new places to show her new things. And each morning she would awaken with a sense of excitement and anticipation, greatly looking forward to what new wonders Arthur would show her that day.

And in time, Morgan's true personality began to bubble forth, and Arthur was finally able to witness firsthand Morgan's 'excitability' as Luella had called it.

And they would play games. All sorts of games. And Arthur finally got to see Morgan actually giggle for the first time. And laugh. And it gave him extra incentive to see such things more often.

Arthur would also sometimes take Morgan to watch the Knights in training. While she never particularly cared for the fighting aspects, especially the blood, it didn't escape Arthur's notice that Morgan's eyes always seemed to follow Accolon the majority of the time. And of course, the rare times when Accolon would fall or get nicked by someone else's sword, Morgan would hold her breath until she finally saw that Accolon was okay.

When Accolon and Sagremor would offer her greeting, as they always did, she would always politely respond back; usually with only a nod. But sometimes, Accolon would be rewarded with a shy smile, which would always result in Accolon's very wide smile. And after they would leave, Arthur would notice that Morgan would walk away with the same smile, one which would usually remain with her for some time.

And then there was the matter of school. For early that year, Morgan had become Alfred's newest pupil; increasing the size of his royal class to a whopping 'two'. Luella had done her best to teach Morgan to speak during her early years in the pit; but a speech teacher, Luella was not. While Morgan was reluctant, Luella and Arthur both managed to convince Morgan to at least give it a try. And, as it turned out, Morgan loved it! And she quickly grew fond of her tutor, Alfred.

Morgan turned out to be a very quick learner and she greatly loved learning new things. Her mind was like a sponge and Alfred quickly grew very fond of his new pupil.

Especially ... as while Arthur would oftentimes drift into one of his endless daydreams, Morgan would sit up straight, riveted to every single word Alfred had to say. And in almost no time, Morgan had quite obviously become the 'Teacher's Pet'. Morgan also seemed to enjoy watching Arthur getting scolded for his daydreaming, and such scoldings would quite often lead to a giggle. Because it happened quite often.

And every night at bedtime, Morgan would chatter on endlessly about the 'wondrous' things she had learned that day. Arthur actually learned more from Morgan's excited daily reviews than he had learned in class.

Then there was the day when Arthur first took Morgan to the Marketplace. That first trip cost them both two entire nights of sleep.

The night before they went, because Morgan was so terrified about the fact that she would be around so many people and so many strangers.

And the reason they lost sleep the second night when they returned, was because it had been the most wondrous and exciting day of Morgan's life. Like a small fair, there were hundreds of merchant tents and tables lining the streets, filled with artwork and jewelry and clothing and shoes and food and sweets and games and all sorts of wonderful and beautiful things. Morgan especially loved the games. And Arthur especially liked buying her sweets. And Morgan gasped at every single turn and at every single table and at every new thing that she saw.

And because everything was new and every new thing was so exciting, Morgan would often have to stop to catch her breath. Arthur had never seen anyone be so incredibly excited and so appreciative of every tiny little thing. Even the signs on the shops she thought were wondrous. And Morgan had never seen so many wondrous and pretty things. She never wanted any of those things, of course; just seeing them was more than she could handle.

Thus, for their first visit to the Marketplace, they weren't able to stay for more than an hour; for Morgan had begun trembling from so much excitement that Arthur had to bring her home early, else he thought she might actually explode.

Bors would always accompany the two of them, whenever they would leave the immediate vicinity of the castle. As their constant protector and guardian, Morgan even began to warm up to Bors; even though he was ten times her size. But Bors had also became quite fond of Morgan and that, too, very clearly showed. And Morgan soon began to feel very secure having Bors around, watching over her and her beloved brother.

Arthur spent nearly every spare moment he had with his new sister; playing games and showing her new things and always leading her by the hand.

And so it was, that by the time of Arthur's thirteenth Birth Celebration, Morgan had begun coming out of her shell. And the brother and sister had indeed bonded, just as Luella had hoped and prayed that they would.

# Chapter 51

_Thirteen year Birth Celebration_

It was a very special time, and for a great many reasons. Frederick's memory had improved to where once in a while, he could sometimes remember for almost ten minutes! Although those times were very rare. But it was an improvement and when it happened, it gave Katelyn even greater hope that someday, Frederick would get better.

It was also special because of the recent birth of Bors and Deorwynn's first son, Bray. Bors was as proud a father as a father could be, and had even once changed a diaper!

But only once.

Bors loved his new son and he loved his wife, and was already talking about making their second.

Morgan, of course, had also turned twelve; being that they celebrated her passing of age on the same day as her beloved brother.

Another special and surprising thing that had happened, was that Arthur had secretly managed to locate Luella's family. She hadn't known that Arthur had been searching for them, and it took two of his scouts nearly three months. But find them, they did. And it was during this time of Birth Celebration that Luella had gone for her first visit with them in over ten years. Camelot would always be her permanent home. But over the years, Luella would eventually end up 'wintering' with them each year, for there was little she could do in the gardens during the times of bad weather. She would always return in the early spring and it would always be a joyous reunion; especially for Morgan.

Another special thing that had happened, was that Arthur had brought on three more new servants.

A Royal Horsemaster who was completely lame, after being accidentally run over by a merchant's delivery cart in the Marketplace. But the older man seemed to know and love horses, for he had once raised them, and Arthur saw that he had a good heart. Though the man would likely never be able to ride them again, at least this way he could be around them all the time, something which he greatly treasured.

Arthur bought him and his wife a house, as well.

Then there was the new Master Tailor. Who had been an apprentice tailor in another kingdom, but had managed to lose an arm while out chopping wood with a drunken friend. Arthur had stumbled upon him by accident, also in the Marketplace. Literally. For Arthur had tripped over a cat and the man caught him in his one good arm as Arthur fell. When Arthur offered his thanks, the apprentice tailor surprisingly began scolding Arthur for the 'hideous' condition of his clothing, which in his estimation looked 'horrid' and not at all befitting that of a High Prince. Arthur immediately took a liking to him for his unabashed honesty, and the next you know, Camelot now had a one-armed Master Tailor.

Morgan was the one who had helped with bringing onboard the Master Jeweler. He had a table on the outermost fringe area of the Marketplace, but he was rarely able to sell anything. Not because his jewelry wasn't exquisite or his skills weren't considerable, but because he stuttered. A lot. And it tended to drive customers away.

Morgan actually thought his jewelry designs were the most 'wondrous' of all the jewelers in the marketplace, and so ... now they had a new Royal Master Jeweler; complete with full salary and a house. And each week, he would always make Morgan a little something; some little knick-knack or trinket or some small dangly thing. It always had to be little and it always had to be small; for Morgan could never take something she considered as 'valuable'; the latest new word she had learned from Alfred.

Which now brought the grand total of servants at Castle Camelot to six. Which meant the staff had doubled in only two years!

Arthur never could find someone who liked to clean; though it wasn't for lack of looking. So ... Arthur had taken on that responsibility himself. Morgan would usually help him, of course; but the higher-up windows were exclusively his.

But there was one more person who was added to the castle's growing list of occupants. And that person showed up at the castle on the night of Arthur's thirteenth Birth Celebration.

While the others were in the large kitchen and toasting their ale ... and Morgan was eating her cake ... of all people, it was High King Uther Pendragon who showed up for the party.

Everyone gasped as he walked into the room. Uther had looked pale and thin before, but now he looked emaciated and frail. Nevertheless, the man who looked like he was close to approaching death, offered Arthur and Morgan a smile and a nod.

Just then, Frederick jumped up and walked over to greet him. "Hello! Welcome to Castle Camelot!"

Uther smiled at Frederick, and then pointed at his throat, indicating he was unable to speak.

But for the moment, anyway, Uther appeared to be lucid; and he had come all that way just to wish his son a blessed Birth Celebration.

Arthur instantly leaped to his feet and pulled out his chair for his father. But Uther shook his head and pointed upstairs; indicating he needed to rest. Arthur ran to his side and offered to help him upstairs, to which Uther nodded his gratefulness. But before he turned to leave with Arthur, his father motioned for Morgan to come forward.

Morgan obeyed; albeit very nervously. For she had sometimes heard Gorlois cursing Uther and accusing him of all sorts of terrible things; even raping and killing her mother, Igraine. Not to mention some of the things she had unfortunately overheard in the marketplace.

Arthur nodded that it was okay and safe for her to approach, and so Morgan did so. Uther continued smiling at Morgan, and shakily leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Uther then nodded at Morgan one last time, and turned towards Arthur to lead him away.

*** *** ***

"That..." said Accolon after they left, "...was an amazing thing he has done."

Sagremor nodded. "If you refer to his traveling all this way, in his condition? Just to wish Arthur a happy Birth Celebration? Then yes, I agree. I never would have thought it even possible."

Accolon and Sagremor looked over at Bors who had not said a word. In fact, he seemed to have a slight frown on his face.

"Is ... something the matter, Battlemaster?" Accolon asked.

Bors didn't reply for a time, as he rapped his fingers on the table. Finally he shook his head. "I had not expected to see him again, either. That is all."

*** *** ***

Arthur took Uther to his room, and helped him lie in his bed. Once he was settled, Uther looked up at Arthur with a proud smile. And he held his scarred palm up and placed it against Arthur's face.

"I love you, father." Arthur said simply.

Uther nodded and lowered his hand back down onto his chest. And he closed his eyes ... and within moments, Uther had fallen asleep.

# Chapter 52

_Two years later_

Uther never woke up after that. He remained in his bed, asleep; never moving, and only just barely breathing.

Yet somehow, he still managed to remain alive.

The Master Physician had to pour liquids down his throat for food; but he always came away shaking his head when he was done; indicating he didn't think Uther had much time left. Yet, Uther still hung on. After two long years, he was still alive.

It was three weeks following after Arthur celebrated his fifteenth Birth Celebration, and Morgan her fourteenth, and it was during the middle of the day while Arthur was with the Knights and while Morgan was in class with Alfred.

Bors came up to visit Uther.

No one knew he was there.

All of the original Knights-in-Training had just recently graduated; almost one hundred Knights in all. Arthur had finally completed his education, as well. He was now an able-bodied 15-year-old man and with a full company of well-trained Knights, to protect him and help watch over the Kingdom. Bors had decided that Arthur was now fully capable and prepared and ready to ascend to the throne.

Bors entered Uther's room, where Uther had lain asleep for two years. He brought with him a tankard of his finest and most expensive ale; in order to toast the High King; who was also once a friend, a long time ago.

Bors sat in a chair next to Uther and raised his tankard high. Then he took a long drought. Then ... Bors set the tankard on the nearby bed table, and pulled out a pouch from his pocket. He opened the pouch, and poured a white powder into the tankard that was still partially filled with ale.

Bors sloshed the white powder around in the tankard until it had dissolved, and then sat upon the bed next to Uther.

He raised Uther's head.

"I am sorry, old friend." Bors said with a tear in his eye. "But this is for the best. The kingdom needs Arthur now, more than ever."

Bors then placed the tankard to Uther's lips and poured the mixture into Uther's mouth, and waited long enough to make sure Uther had swallowed it.

Then he tenderly lowered Uther's head back down onto to the pillow.

And walked away.

# Chapter 53

_One week later_

"I do not wish to attend the funeral, Bors. Why may I not remain here?"

"I am sorry, young pup. It is your duty."

"I do not wish to remember my father in this manner."

"It is a time to honor your father and his legacy. It is important for you to remember such things."

"I prefer to remember other things."

"Things such as?"

"I prefer to remember the times we were together; my father and I. You of all people know how few those times were."

"It is true."

"Bors, I truly do understand the importance of such things as honor and legacy."

"Yes, I know that you do."

"But I find the rare times with my father to be of greater value."

"You are very different from Uther, young pup."

"Perhaps. But he was my father, still."

"He cared a great deal for his kingdom."

"I care less about his kingdom."

"Your kingdom now, Arthur Pendragon."

"Must we speak of that now? My father is not even yet buried."

"Would you have your sister face this time alone?"

Arthur sighed. "No, Bors. You know I would never wish that upon her."

"You are the only family she has left."

"You are right. I was not thinking of Morgan; I am ashamed."

"You care deeply for your sister."

"You of all people know that I do. As you have spoken, she and I are all that remain of our family."

"You cared for her while you still had your father."

"Very much so. As you well know, she did not have a ... pleasant ... experience from her ... other family. I still do not know much of what happened to her while she lived among them."

"Her mother tried to protect her until her passing; when Morgan was very young. After that ... you do not want to know what happened, after that."

"Someday I intend to find out, Bors. I swear they shall know retribution for what harm they have caused my sister. For now ... all I can do is show her kindness in her new home - as I have sought to do for the past three years."

"And as such, she has always been fond of you. Indeed, you are the only one she would speak to for the first year."

"Yes, it was during that first year that she refused to sleep anywhere except upon the floor near my bed."

"I remember it took us another year to wean her away from your floor to the bed in her own room, even though it was next to your room."

Arthur chuckled. "You were not so successful, Bors. She sleeps in my room, still."

"What!?"

"Not always, but more often than not, I shall see her upon the floor near my bed. By morning, she is always gone. She does not think I know, and I have never spoken of it to her."

"You have a good heart, young pup. I have always believed such. It is truth that you care not for your father's kingdom. Rather you care more for the people within the kingdom."

"Such flattery shall not gain you access to our kitchen's pantry, Sir Bors. We must draw the line, somewhere."

"You wound me deeply, Your Majesty."

"Do not even consider calling me such a thing! I shall have you removed from the supper table this very night!"

"And who would you have attempt to do such a dangerous thing ... as prevent me from my meal?"

Arthur grinned. "I shall, of course!"

Bors shot out a hand and grabbed Arthur by the ear.

"OUCH! UNHAND YOUR KING!"

"Nay. Not unless my King withdraws his portentous threat."

"I shall not! Even upon loss of ear!"

Bors smiled and let go. "I am sorry, young pup; but in the presence of other rulers, kings and dignitaries, I shall henceforth be referring to you as protocol demands."

"Protocol be damned; my name is Arthur."

"Speak such words again and I shall most certainly turn you over my knee!"

"You have not turned me over your knee since I was four years of age! What makes you think you could catch me now, old Knight?"

"Nevertheless, young pup, upon arrival at your father's grave, I shall indeed address you as befitting a king."

Arthur sighed.

"I am sorry this has befallen you at this time; you are now but of fifteen years of age."

"Bors?"

"Yes?"

Suddenly with tears in his eyes, Arthur threw his arms around the giant man. "Thank you, Bors."

Bors nodded and patted Arthur's head, trying to hold back a tear of his own.

"You have been as a father to me."

"No, young pup! Do not speak of this! You are a Pendragon. Red and black are your colors. Constantine was your Grandsire! You are of royal blood; you must never consider otherwise."

"Have I ever spoken of my dislike of your lectures, Bors?"

"Not since this morning, you have not."

Arthur finally let go and stepped back. "Thanks, Bors. I just needed ... you know."

"More than you know, young pup. More than you know."

"Bors, do you believe the rumors that my father was poisoned?"

"I have already told you many times; they are only rumors."

"Have you learned if the rumors are true?"

"They may be true or they may not; no one knows this for certain."

# Chapter 54

_Immediately after the funeral_

It was tradition for the new high ruler to first enter his ruling chambers, alone. So it was that Arthur Pendragon walked alone into the quiet and empty royal Throne Room of the High King, as Bors closed the massive doors behind him with a loud echoing clang.

To his left were empty suits of armor standing as silent guardians of the highest power in the land. To his right were candlestands which remained lit. They had been relit the day Ambrosius had first taken the throne back from Vortigern and would never go out for as long as the current blood line remained upon the throne.

Above Arthur was an impossibly high vaulted timber-lined ceiling which had stood for centuries, and from which hung three massive wooden chandeliers filled with brightly lit candles.

Royal flags of red and black hung from the high wooden beams overhead, upon which were embroidered the names of those kingdoms which were loyal allies to House Pendragon.

The flags were far too few in number.

Directly ahead of Arthur was the Great Royal Throne, upon which sat an empty tall sculptured chair made of the finest woods of the known world. And behind the throne was a tall massive window of the finest stained glass.

It would be an overwhelming sight for any young boy of fifteen years of age. But it was far more overwhelming for this young man, as the crushing weight of not just a kingdom but an entire nation now bore down heavily upon his very young shoulders.

As the new overlord of all the lands, Arthur had never felt more inadequate or more vulnerable or more alone.

Even though Uther rarely sat upon that throne, at least the great burden remained upon his father's shoulders and not upon his. But Arthur had no more covering. Not even a missing father whom he at least knew was still out there ... somewhere.

And the terrible aloneness had never been more smothering or more terrifying than it was at that very moment.

Arthur had always felt alone; though he had never told anyone. Knowing what would one day fall upon his shoulders was never anything he had especially looked forward to.

Over time, Bors had taught Arthur to keep the things he saw in people to himself. His ability to see the true hearts of others certainly contributed immensely to his great aloneness; and truly his gift was a curse.

Even those he thought he could trust.

For Arthur had known that Bors had lied to him about poisoning his father.

# Chapter 55

In a remote part of the kingdom, hidden deep within the Great Forest, a lone horseman traveled along no particular path towards a very specific destination.

The horse was pulling a wagon, inside of which lay a body covered by layers of sheets and leaves.

The horseman continued quietly and steadfastly as he had done for days, until he came to a small remote village few people knew existed.

The clip-clop of horse hooves and the splurging of the wagon wheels rolling in the mud came to a stop, as the horseman reigned in his horse in front of a small, primitive ramshackle hut made of grass, twigs and mud.

As the horseman dismounted, an elderly man came out of the hut to meet the visitor.

"I have come to see your medicine woman." said the horseman.

The elderly man nodded and gestured back towards the hut he had just come out of.

The horseman walked around to the rear of the wagon and pulled the body out. Then, carrying the body in his arms, he entered the old hut of the village medicine woman.

Inside the old one-room hut, the woman was sitting upon the floor beside an empty pallet of bedding, as if she had been waiting for the body to arrive.

"It is strange I must follow a raven to come here." said the horseman, after he lay the body down upon the pallet.

"We move." the medicine woman replied. "It is how we remain hidden."

"When the raven first came to me, I thought I was going mad. This is my second occasion to follow him here. I still wonder if I am not going mad. Birds do not talk."

"Did the drug I had given to you work?"

"Yes. Everyone believes Uther is dead. Arthur is now ascended to the throne."

"Has Uther awakened?"

"No, he still sleeps. Can you awaken him?"

"It may take days, but he shall revive on his own. But perhaps it may be I can hasten his awakening."

"Uther is no longer fit to be king. But my heart grieves as to the terrible thing I have done to his son."

"You have only done what the raven has asked you to do."

"Having done this thing and keeping this secret from Arthur causes me great distress. I have done this thing at the behest of a talking bird! Surely I have gone as mad as Uther."

"The raven had only asked you to bring him here. I alone, am to blame for the rest, for I am the one who has insisted upon secrecy."

Bors snorted. "Indeed. So secret, you refuse to even give me your name."

"You do this for good reason."

Bors nodded. "Somewhere inside, there is still a good man. Perhaps you can find him."

"It may take time. I cannot promise, but I shall do my utmost to find the Uther you once knew."

"Can you restore his health as well?"

"We shall see."

"How shall I learn of his progress?"

"The raven shall find you."

"Goodbye, woman. Watch over him. He was once my friend."

"With my life."

*** *** ***

Just as Bors mounted his horse, he suddenly heard weeping coming from within the medicine woman's hut. Fearing Uther had died, Bors quickly dismounted and burst in through the front door.

Bors was stunned to see Uther was awake. And there were tears in Uther's eyes, as he looked up at the medicine woman. Uther then slowly and shakily attempted to raise his scarred hand towards the medicine woman. And tearfully, the woman took his hand and placed his scarred palm against the side of her face.

"Woman! Who are you!? I must know your name!"

With tears streaming down her face, the woman looked up at Bors. "My name ... is Regan."

# _Notes to the reader ..._

The next book CAMELOT will pick up right where this book left off. CAMELOT is actually taken from my Second Chance series (Book 6: AVALON - Part 1) and was originally intended to be the launch book for this new series, with PENDRAGON as a prequel. Thus, CAMELOT was actually written prior to this book. Things have since changed and the books are now being re-released in proper chronological order. My only regret in writing this prequel - after writing CAMELOT, is that I didn't really know the character Luella very well. I had only made a brief reference to her as the deaf Royal Gardener, when Guinevere first visited the castle and was officially introduced to Morgan. The line from the book reads: _"Morgan had still not spoken since her first 'hello'; though she did smile once when they came across the Royal Gardener; an older deaf woman, who immediately ran and gave Morgan a hug when she saw them approaching."_ It's implied that they had some sort of special connection, and I had her pegged as being the nursemaiden who had once watched over Morgan, but that was all I knew about her at the time. Henceforth, I have plan to do a very slight minor update to CAMELOT at some point, where I will at the very least mention her by name and add her in as being in attendance at a couple of events special to Morgan.

As for the other two sisters of Arthur and Morgan, Elaine and Morgause? We will delve more deeply into their stories in CHAMPION and SORCERESS.

Now to set your minds at ease, yes, that really was Regan at the end. And there is definitely more to come on Uther and Igraine's story. Some very interesting times ahead, to be sure.

Oh, and if you enjoyed the book, please help me out by leaving some positive feedback.

Until next time,

Paul

Guinevere and Merlin. Morgan le Fay. Lancelot, Excalibur and even the mysterious Lady of the Lake! This is how it all begins.

_Available now!_

The Black Knight. Lancelot. A lost sister. Plus a new Champion is in town; her name is George. And Camelot will never be the same.

_Available now!_

Introducing Morgause - the evil sister of Morgan le Fay.

_Available now!_
Tales From Camelot Series

**Part One (2012)  
** Book 1: PENDRAGON  
Book 2: CAMELOT  
Book 3: CHAMPION  
Book 4: SORCERESS

**Part Two (2013)  
** Book 5: ROYALS  
Book 6: EXCALIBUR  
Book 7: CURSED  
Book 8: LADY

**Part Three (2014)  
** Book 9: WARLORD  
Book 10: MIRROR   
Book 11: WYVERN  
Book 12: QUEST

**Grand Finale (2014)  
** Book 13: LEGEND

www.TalesFromCamelot.com   
www.SecondChanceNovels.com

For further information contact info@paulgreenauthor.com
Second Chance Series

**Part One  
** Book 1: BEGINNINGS  
Book 2: AWAKENING  
Book 3: PROPHET

**Part Two  
** Book 4: REVENANT  
Book 5: PRODIGAL  
Book 6: AVALON - Part 1  
Book 6: AVALON - Part 2

**Part Three  
** Book 7: TRIBE  
Book 8: SEED  
Book 9: ENDGAME

www.SecondChanceNovels.com   
www.TalesFromCamelot.com

For further information contact info@paulgreenauthor.com

**_Beginning 2013_**  
Prophet Chronicles series

_About the Author . . ._

Paul Green is a freelance writer, author, and has been an independent computer consultant for more than 30 years.

After having spent a lifetime imagining wondrous and fantastical stories and adventures, he has finally found the time to begin creating the wonderful worlds from his imaginings.

_"Why didn't I start writing sooner? Though strongly and repeatedly advised by my college professors, I was too insecure to think I could actually make a living writing stories. I mean, what kind of ridiculous pipedream is that? Now having completed my first trilogy and seeing the wonderful and unexpected response, I have begun to regret that decision. (sigh) Looks like I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Hmmm ... if only I had a Second Chance ..."_

Paul is 53 years old and lives with his wife and son in Southern California.
