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Interlude Ten: Ravenna

Theodoric sipped his wine, listening to his ministers make their reports. The northern borders were secure, relations with Byzantium and the Vandal kingdoms in Africa were going well enough. So far so good.

"What news of Symmachus, the pope?" he asked.

"His Grace has agreed to the synod, but... has refused to see your Visitor, Bishop Vidar."

"How fares Vidar in ministering the Church? Any problems?" the king asked.

"No, your majesty. The other bishops are all quite... cooperative."

Theodoric nodded. Maybe Festus is right. Maybe Laurentius' papacy should be recognized, that Byzantium can deal with church matters, not I.

He shook his head.

He'd heard rumours that Vidar had been thrown out of Britain by a young headstrong king, although Vidar never spoke of it. While he never thought ill of his friend, there were many times he wished his people had taken Iberia, and the Visigoths could bother with all the Church politics.

"Davius?"

"Yes, my liege?"

"Have Kenzius dispatched to Britain, and have him... evaluate this new king I hear of."

"Kenzius of Nuhorra?"

"The same."

If anyone could be entrusted to such a mission so far from home, it is surely Kenzius, thought Theodoric. The man lets nothing interfere with duty.

BOOK III:
CAMELOT RISING
One Hundred and Twenty-one

"Tell us another story about King Rokk and his knights, cousin Mysa," pleaded Gaheris.

"Please, my lady?" echoed Harlack.

"Boys. Mysa has already told you tales about the knights fighting a legion of monsters, about an imp who seems to slay all the knights but one, and a villain who resurrects three ancient foes of old," Morgause admonished. "Enough tales for this eve, now off to bed!"

The two boys reluctantly scampered off. A third, far too young to do so, remained cradled in the queen of Lothian's arms.

"My niece, you are as saintly as any of Rome's best to be so good to the boys."

Mysa blushed. "They are just being boys. Like any, they yearn for tales of adventure."

"As if Lot's fending off of Northmen, Scots and Picts is not adventure enough, they fawn over each and every word of Rokk's court! A charismatic young man is my nephew, that even unseen, he steals my sons' hearts!"

"Speaking of that, where is your young- second youngest? Gareth?"

"You see the Khund boy, Harlack?"

"Yes?"

"I am fostering Kiritan's boy, and he is fostering Gareth."

"You trust your son to Khunds?"

"No, not really. But diplomacy is diplomacy, and the Kentish Khunds are not about to pack up and leave. Most have now been born on this island. Better tame the house dog to fend off the wild dogs."

"Vortigern's strategy," Mysa reminded her.

"Vortigern gave away the keys to the kingdom. Nay, keeping the Khunds to their limits makes far better sense," Morgause sighed.

"Is it not for the high king to decide statecraft?"

"How quick to your brother's defense! Why, I remember a young child jealous of the attention her infant brother-" Seeing Mysa's gaze, she redirected herself to the question at hand.

"Yes, it is. But last year, no one expected Rokk's reign to last through the winter, and long-term stratagems had to be readied."

"Stratagems you'll now share, of course."

"Of course." Morgause looked almost sincere in saying so. "Where is you handsome escort?" she changed the subject.

"James? He rode out to check on some of the defenses," she said, but thinking, and to seek out the remains of Angtough.

James' main mission up here in the north was to serve as regent for six months, to see to coastal defenses and monitor Lot's behavior since surrender - just as other knights were doing in Angle lands and Kent, but Rokk had asked a few extra favours of James, and James relished being counted on as one of Rokk's top knights.

"He's afraid of me, you know," Morgause said, somewhat amused by the fact.

"Why?"

"He probably thinks young Medrod is his," she said, slightly lifting the sleeping baby in reference.

"Is he?" Mysa was shocked.

"It's possible," her aunt winked. "But I suspect not."

Seeing her niece's expression, she added, "You of all people should not be so scandalized. Lot's never had cause to doubt that I've born him four sons that are his beyond dispute - you've seen them all. I've never rebuked him for any of his bastards, so he has no cause to rebuke me for this one."

Morgause gently ran her finger along the baby's face. "Younger knights can be such a joy. Eh, Mysa?" With James spending the summer, she decided that she must find a way to put the young man at ease once again.

One Hundred and Twenty-two

"There's really no other way, is there?"

"I'm afraid not, Querl. Better to find out this way than in a truly hostile situation," L'ile advised.

Querl sighed. He'd been through the ringer, it was true, and if Iaime's magic belt would save him future hardships, then it was worth the experiment now.

He, L'ile and Dyrk waited patiently for Garth, who indeed returned with a mercenary in tow.

"This is the man!" Garth proclaimed, pointing at Querl. "He owes me money. Kill him with your bare hands!" He tossed the mercenary a gold coin.

"A scrawny little green freak like you, this'll be no trouble at all!" he charged at Querl. Despite the scientist's best intentions to remain still, he found himself evading the brute. What if the belt needs active resistance? he queried.

"Stand still, damn you! I'll make it less painful for you if you'll just-" He successfully grabbed Querl's robe, and pulled him close with one hand, pummeling him with the other.

After landing a few blows and stunning his opponent, the mercenary secured a choke-hold for a few seconds before Dyrk's sword interrupted him.

"You've earned your coin. Now let him go," the Roman ordered.

The mercenary looked to Garth, who nodded. He followed his principal’s instruction.

"Just wanted to scare him, eh? No problem," he said, standing up. "Pay's pay. You could have told me, though."

"It had to seem truly authentic," Garth said. "You may be on your way," he flipped the man an extra coin of silver.

"Querl? Are you all right?" L'ile asked.

Coughing a little, the man replied that he was. "So much for 'magic belts.' Just as I suspected, it was Iaime's fortune - not his belt - that kept him from harm."

"Not necessarily. Maybe it requires that you believe in it," Dyrk ventured.

"Aye. Like the various persuasion techniques we've discussed," L'ile continued on his idea.

"But Querl said he's accepted that there is magic afoot here in Britain," Garth reminded.

"Aye, as a working theory with the lack of any alternative. But I guess part of my mind still refuses to accept it, and insists that there must be another explanation that fits into the natural order of the world."

"Who says magic isn't a part of the natural order?" L'ile countered. Seeing Querl starting to remove the belt, he continued, "No, Querl, leave it. There's nothing like a near-death experience to make a convert out of a man."

Querl nodded. "Perhaps my knowledge that, even though the mercenary attempted to kill me, I was never truly in danger may have failed to activate any magical protective properties."

"Perhaps. I guess the only real test will be in the field," L'ile concluded. Dyrk nodded.

"Joy is mine!" Querl sarcastically declared. "Let us get back to the palace. Reep is no doubt waiting for the next strategy session on Roxxius."

Indeed, for a second season, Khundish raiders had been scant, but Roxxius was already proving as terrifying a threat, with far fewer men.

One Hundred and Twenty-three

The village burned, and Roxxius smiled.

His ships were well full of all the gold, all the spices and treasures the city held, while what pathetic soldiers in the absent King Mekt's service there were here offered little resistance at all.

It was a good day, except for one thing. San Graal was not here.

Roxxius knew that one of King Rokk's allies had it, and he would not rest until it was his.

Never.

Hi ships set sail, and vanished into the spring twilight. No one would ever catch them. No one knew how.

One Hundred and Twenty-four

Tinya liked Lindum well enough, and it was a pleasant break from Londinium.

As glad as she was to be alive again, those she thought she knew so well, who she'd spent so many months with unseen, didn't know her as she knew them. And the fact that she may have (and sometimes did) seen them unawares in private circumstance did little to better her in their eyes.

Only Jo and the queen accepted her as one they knew - as they had known her as a phantom. Saihlough, too - but the little faerie had gone missing since midwinter, sulking perhaps at her use of magicks to disguise Ayla as Garth.

Lindum itself was a likeable city - a northern Roman town like her Eboracum, not nearly so large and impersonal as Londinium was becoming. Here only weeks, she already knew many names and faces from the marketplace alone.

And it was also a different type of city - despite its Roman architecture, it was an Angle town, with Anglish and Latin both mingled and mangled.

"Good day, milady," greeted the woman who sells ham-hocks. "Can I interest you in a fine cut of swine?"

"Good day. Not to-day, my good lady," she smiled. All the older ladies treated her like their queen - or at least a princess, as Lindum would host her upcoming wedding to Jonah.

That Eboracum did not host the event would aggravate her mother, she knew - as did her fiancé - and the thought made her smile. Let her tend to the traitor Tarik for all I care!

Jonah had well settled in here, and although Belinant's retainers had given him some trouble, he enlisted those looking to make good with King Rokk, and found his way to circumvent those who would not.

All things in consideration, things were going well. The coastal forts were being rebuilt, and again the Khundish were few between.

"There you are," she heard Jonah say from behind her, as she inspected a piece of fabric.

"Spending your moneys. Where else should I be?"

He gently grabbed her and kissed her from behind. "I'm just sorry our wedding must take back-burner to the task at hand."

"Be not silly, my love. The security of state is in the hands of King Rokk and his knights. And you are a most indispensable knight." She leaned back into his embrace, savoring the moment. A gently spring breeze tickled her hair against her face.

They made their way to the edge of the market. As the first fair of the season, the marketplace spewed out beyond the city gates, and soon they were at the woodland's edge.
He clasped her hands together, and kissed them with such gentleness that Tinya knew the court ladies could never believe.

"My love." he whispered, and they lost themselves deep in each other's eyes.

He again started to speak, but his eyes darted to the right and his expression changed to one of anger - even fear.

"You." Tinya knew that anger belonged only to one foe - but there was no one to be seen.

"Jonah?"

"Stay back, Tinya. Climb a tree. Let him not get near you," he said, drawing his sword and positioning himself between her and -- no one.

"Let who get near me?"

Jonah turned briefly to her with a look of disbelief. "You cannot see him?" He turned back, only to find the spot as empty as Tinya saw.

"Keep your eyes alert," he said, slowly advancing to the place where he had seen his nemesis. "No footprints, no hoof-marks," he said. "And you saw naught?"

"No one but you and I."

He sighed. "Maybe Dyrk is partly right of me, then."

"Nay. love. When I was a ghost, I saw him, too."

"Is he part phantom, then? The ghost of some foe I've already struck down?"

The thought hung there, interrupted by three short blows from a horn, followed by a long one.

"That's the signal for Roxxius! Come, my love - there may not be much time!"

One Hundred and Twenty-five

"That's what the message from Lothian said?" Imra asked. "That's all?"

"All that relates to Manaugh. There was also news that Queen Morgause has another son - and is fostering a son of Kiritan," Laoraighll reported. "Reep was not pleased by the news."

Imra nodded. "Any alliance between the Kentish Khunds and Lothian does not seem like good tidings." Changing the subject, she added, "So let's review what we know."

"The Pictish village of Angtough, according to the assassin, had a pledge from Auley to remain in Pictish hands, in exchange for help against the Khunds. Angtough was a key strategic spot on its peninsula, essentially blocking Scot colonization to the lands beyond, thus many Pict tribes no doubt supported this deal."

"So why would Auley sell them out?" Imra asked.

"Maybe he didn't," Laoraighll said. "But someone did. The massacre of the village was thorough and complete - whoever did it knew the village inside and out."

"How would the Scots know? A traitor among the Picts?"

"Maybe," the Ulsterwoman said. "Maybe I betray my own kin-ties, my queen, but I... I don't believe it was Scots."

"Go on."

"The massacre happened in the early winter. An entire village raided and scorched. Same methodology we've seen in Kent, Cymru and Lesser Britain. Not Scots, not Northmen, not Khunds. Roxxius," Laoraighll concluded. "James has not seen enough of his handiwork to know, but I would. So would Thom."

"And we can spare neither of you, with the raider's attacks growing more frequent and more brazen. Meanwhile, this assassin stalks Lot, Morgause, Auley's young children from his recent wife, all of Morgause's children..."

"And who knows how many of Lot's bastards?" the Ulsterwoman added. "Half of Lothian could be killed by misplaced vengeance."

"What was it MacKell said? Manaugh admitted gaining this strange power from the Cailleach?" the queen asked.

"Aye. IF the word of a murderer is an honest one."

"Then let's ask the goddess herself. Shall we?"

Notes 118 to 124 and I-6 to I-10.
Note: I've gone back and added "Book i" and Book II" descriptions at chapters 1 and 61, hence Book III at 121. Likewise Interlude sections now have umbrella titles.
118: In Arthurian lore, Lot did take part in the rebellion, but settled down and became ally for quite awhile.
119: I couldn't not make the subs knights, just as the pre-boot subs never made sense - you had guys like Chuck and Tenzil, but people with more useful powers were excluded? The inexperience/uncontrolled excuse only lasts so long, once they proved their mettle.
120: In Arthurian lore, Merlin is actually out pretty early on. The same does not apply, of course, to Mordru in LSH lore..
I-6: Aside from Vidar, these are all historical figures, and even Vidar's role he was historical, via Bishop Peter of Altinum. In a nutshell, Festus and his faction want stronger ties to what is becoming the eastern Orthodox church, while the larger faction wants the western church, the Catholic Church, to be separate. Guess which wins? Anyway, at this point, each faction has their own pope, a not uncommon practice at times when Rome was very factional.
I-7: Whatever Rome looked like back then (and it was a period of shambles), I envisioned the Palatine Hill area of Rome as my inspiration here. If you're ever in Rome, it's an area of beautiful Roman ruins next to the Coliseum.
I-8: Festus, as I've said before, was real. Other than his politics, not much is known about him, but a rural villa in Lazio (the countryside around Rome) isn't unreasonable, but his Tuscan origins are my own invention.
I-9: Just can't separate that trio, can you?
I-10: Kenzius obviously isn’t historical; the church bits are.
121: James' Arthurian counterpart may be more obvious by now.
122: Poor Querl. My kingdom for a force-field.
123: Nuff said, for now.
124: I've been meaning to get to Tinya's alienation ad back to the Green Knight. As previously promised, the latter's about to go somewhere different than just another slugfest, as is hopefully evident here.
Lindum is Lincoln and Eboracum is York. I think I've said that before, but consider yourselves reminded.

One Hundred and Twenty-six

"I say he's a pig!"

"How can you say that after how you've treated him?"

"Will you two calm down! Luornu, you quit him. Lu, he did seduce her for her body with no regard for anything else about her. There's blame enough to share," Laurentia said decisively.

"Hmmph. She let him have her honour, and now claims foul?" Lu grumbled.

"Enough!" Laurentia barked.

Luornu sighed. "I guess I shouldn't complain if he takes after Zendak's daughter. I just thought better of him."

"Thinking better of men gets you alone and with a big belly," sneered Lu. Seeing Laurentia's ire and Luornu's welling tears, she added, "I mean that only as concern for your well-being, sister. Young women can't just lie around as they choose, not among civilized folk."

"I know that. I just thought..." she broke down into sobs.

"Sister," Laurentia said, with a sinking feeling. "You're not...?"

"Do we not feel each other's pains anymore? What do you think?" Luornu shrieked before resuming her sobs.

Lu, at a loss for words, just held her.

Laurentia paced, struggling for what to say. It was then that she noticed the red rash growing on her arms.

No, not just hers - her sisters,' too.

One Hundred and Twenty-seven

"Saihlough?"

The kitchen staff gave Ayla odd look, as she scoured every nook and cranny of the palace kitchens.

There was no sign of the little faerie anywhere.

Despite her initial embarrassment and dislike of the faerie magic incident, she had come to understand that the little pixie meant to help. Unfortunately, she could not find her attempted benefactor to share these thoughts.

She went over all the stories Reep had told her of Saihlough. "If I were a faerie, I'd..."

She smiled, thinking of a tale Rokk had once told.

Ayla left the palace, and followed the streets along the river to the Druidic groves.

"Saihlough!" she called, navigating her way through the tall hedges. "Little faerie, where are you?"

"Saihlough's had enough of humans," said a little voice. Although disguised, Ayla knew it must be her.

"Then could you tell her I'm sorry? We're all sorry?"

"Sorry doesn't mend hearts."

"Yes it does, eventually. We were hurt by what Saihlough did, but with her 'sorry,' and some time to dwell on it, we realized she intended no ill."

There was no response.

"Will you tell her?" Ayla tried once more.

"You will go now," the voice responded.

Disappointed, she left, itching herself as she walked down the street. Do the Druids line their groves with poison plants? Why do I itch so? Please let it not be more faerie magic.

One Hundred and Twenty-eight

"There she is!" exclaimed Genni.

"What have you done to us?" demanded Iasmin.

Drusilla sat in her bed, itching herself.

"I thought she was immune to the plagues she causes?" Genni asked, itching herself furiously fast.

"She is," Errol answered. "I do not believe she has caused this. After how she taxed herself last winter, I no longer believe she is capable of-

"Lass! You must stop yourself!" he called, seeing Genni's itching was giving way to bleeding.

"I cannot!" she exclaimed.

"Grab her!" he ordered Iasmin, who tried desperately to ignore her own itch that she could aide her friend.

Errol tore Drusilla's bed-sheet, and began tying Genni's arms to her sides. "First we secure her, then we bandage her wounds."

"NO!" Genni shouted, and in a burst of energy, she freed herself and fled down the hall, itching and trailing a small amount of blood.

"What is going on here?" demanded Thom, wandering by.

"A plague, it seems, that is afflicting the women-folk."

One Hundred and Twenty-nine

Jonah and the city guard fared reasonably well, but they faced a foe who had stealthily entered city walls, fought well in close quarters, knew where to strike, and had mastered an art of diversion.

For each company of city guard that engaged the enemy, there were six that were misdirected - sent down the wrong street. Some companies found themselves charging each other.

Jonah was among those who did find the enemy, but even after successfully slaying the first few of a large group of the raiders, he would turn to find himself alone with the corpses.

Three times he tracked and engaged, and three times the main cluster of invaders escaped him. By nightfall, it seems they had vanished as stealthily as they had come,

Jonah stewed; it should not have gone this way. Word was already dispatched to Londinium, and he himself had requested MacKell to join him here in Lindum.

"What will MacKell do that you cannot?" Tinya asked, trying to ease his mind.

"He can take over my duties here," Jonah told her. "Roxxius cannot be stopped from this side of the walls - no matter if he strikes Londinium herself!"

"What are you planning?"

Jonah smiled. "For this to work, you must tell no one..."

One Hundred and Thirty

Rokk knocked before entering. He cautiously entered the ladies' salon, calling out for his wife.

"K-King Rokk!" Siobhan struggled to her feet. Every visible inch of skin was reddened from itching.

"Rest, lass. Pray tell, where is my queen?"

"She and Laoraighll went to Mysa's quarters. To find answers, they said."

He lifted her, and carried her to her bed. Her sister Virginia was already bed-ridden, and just as red.

"Rest, lass," he told her.

Striding the hall with a hasteful step, Rokk saw MacKell and Thom, and snapped for them to follow.

He kicked open Mysa's door, to find Imra sprawled unconscious on a candle-lined floor, and Laoraighll poised obliviously at the window.

"Lar Chulain. My love," she said an otherworldly voice.

"Morrigu." MacKell replied flatly.

"I prefer Cailleach, here in Britain."

"What have you done to the women-folk?" Rokk demanded, reaching for his sword. MacKell grabbed his arm.

"A king you may be. For now. But I am goddess forever." She turned to face them for the first time. "These foolishe girls thought to force answers from me. Answers have a price."

"What price, my lady?" MacKell managed.

"That is mine to know, for now. This plague will run its course, and mayhap your little priestess-girls will think twice before summoning the Crone."

That can't be all she wants, MacKell thought, thinking the better than saying it.

"The rest shall be apparent in its own time." She walked over and kissed MacKell. "Farewell for now, my sweet."

With that, Laoraighll collapsed onto him, developing red splotches.

Imra, starting to wake, heard Rokk say, "My wife must be a queen, not a sorceress. I have been very tolerant of the way of Avalon, but she is banned form any form of magicks without my direct and expressed consent."

Foolish woman, Imra scolder herself. How quickly out-of-practice I have become! Maybe it's for the best, she thought. Why am I so itchy?

One Hundred and Thirty-one

"Can you believe the word from Lindum? Sir Jonah -Gawaine himself- has turned traitor? He allowed Roxxius entry into the very citadel!"

"No, I can't believe it," Nura said, not letting on what she had already envisioned.

King Marcus paced about, absorbing the news. "Even luring MacKell to the north - and attacking him! What madness is this?"

A gusty wind buffered Tintagel and its castle. A storm was coming. Nura usually loved the intense beauty, passion and anger of storms, but she now shivered in anticipation. She knew something bad was coming - and even worse, she knew she was hiding something from herself about it.

Looking out to sea, they saw the village fishermen landing their boats.

"You hide yourself well, but I know you want to know if there is word of Thom," Marcus said with a sneer, misreading her apprehension. "You would do well to remember who you are wed to."

Nura was taken aback. She didn't have to ask about Thom -she knew all was well enough. "I have never given you cause-"

"SILENCE, woman! I'll hear none of your lies!" he shouted, smacking her across the face.

"Roxxius," she said, oblivious to the slap. Marcus knew what her look meant.

"What did you say?"

"Roxxius. He's coming," she said. "He's coming here!"

"With the storm looming?" Marcus said, incredulously. "Who in their senses would-"

Stopping himself, he called for the captain of his guard, barking orders to be ready, and to have the villagers flee inland.

Nura shivered with a fear she'd long wrestled, never knowing when it would materialize. A deep dread crawled up her spine, paralyzing her, making her vomit and shiver spastically.

"For God's sake, woman!" Marcus shook his head, and left her, to see to the futile defenses. Tintagel was strategically sound - but only against conventional foes.

"No, it doesn't happen here, and it's worse if there's no offering," Nura told herself, looking around the salon. She walked up to their bed chambers, and to the secret chamber beyond, where Marcus kept his most valuable treasures.

She lifted the orb Marcus had taken from Laoraighll's cache last spring. "You're not his main goal, but you'll be his soon, won't you? The Stone of Virtue."

Nura picked up a jeweled dagger - a gift, Marcus said, from King Jonn of Pasnic. She considered her options; none looked good. "No, I must survive intact. For Thom," she said, tossing the dagger aside.

She closed the door and waited, watching the battle as it neared, seeing it before hearing it.

In 10 minutes, Marcus' men would spy Roxxius' ships passing the rocky shoals, heading right into Tintagel Bay...

Within the half-hour, the first raiding party would surprise Marcus’ men, still watching the ships. The battle would go poorly...

Within the hour, Marcus would receive the wound that would ensure that Thom was his sole heir... but wait! Geraint? A name, no more. A usurper? Too far into the-

"-Future, I'd suggest you awaken and cooperate," said the figure before her. As she expected, the secret chamber was breached, and a half-dozen raiders stood before her.

"You are Roxxius," she said, quietly.

"I am. Hand me the stone, and I spare your life."

She complied.

"Now. Where is the San Graal? Aid me, and I shall spare you any other permanent harm."

"And shall your men so spare me?" She saw through his escape clause.

"And my men," he smiled. She is wiser than most.

"I can see that what I consider harm, you do not," she winced in anticipation.

"Perhaps. But I think we can both agree that scarring that pretty face would be a permanent harm. Temporary... inconveniences are less traumatic. The priests tell me it's not a sin if you don't enjoy it," he snarled.

Unbuckling himself, he said, "Now, the Graal? Can I put away my dagger?"

"I know not. But I can tell you that Sir Jonah -Gawaine- does know."

"And where do I find him?"

"...He fled Lindum a week or more ago. They say he aided your conquest."

"Where is he now?" He held the blade closer.

"I-I... Orkney. His family has holdings there."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he smiled, stoking her cheek.

True to his word, he sheathed his dagger.

True to his word, what followed was not permanent - physically, at least, and Nura's only solace that with Marcus wounded, she'd not have to suffer any unwanted touch for many years.

Again, the name came to her. Geraint.

She reached out into the future, to a time when Thom, shy and uncertain, would finally kiss her, pull her robe off... No, his caution and gentleness did not fit Roxxius' brutality.

Further ahead - angry words were said, and reconciliation with Thom was a passionate fury. Yes, here, she could hide herself in. The future could be safe, and she no longer had to dread when the stranger in the treasure room would appear...

One Hundred and Thirty-two

The woods of North Cymru are dark and deep, but Balan found them not deep enough to hide from himself.

His iron helmet, which he never once removed at court, was tossed aside, rusting a little more in each morning dews and drizzles.

Each morning, he washed his face in the brook. But one morning early in the spring, he'd seen one of the Bean-Nighe, the faerie-women who wash the blood-stained clothes of those about to die. She washed the one of the identical tunics that he and his brother wore.

"I shall never again leave these woods," he vowed, "else my brother find me, and one kills the other on account of my madness. Let my ugly face scare off any who would trespass here."

And so he passed the weeks: hunting, fishing, mending his cloak as best he could, and sturdying the little hut he'd made for himself, that he could winter in it. The few people he'd see, he'd easily scare off, and his hut was well-hidden than none knew where he slept.

So it came as a surprise, washing his hideous face this morning, to see a reflection of a beautiful woman behind him.

"Haaarrggghhh!" he shouted, turning fast to scare her off.

She smiled. "Good Sir Balan, you need not play the ogre with me," she laughed.

"If you know me, you know that I am a villain."

"You struck down an evil sorceress that has ensnared the soul of King Rokk," she said. "You are to be commended. True Christian soldiers are not many on this isle."

He knew his deeds had been wrong, though, as tempting as it was to hear her excusal.

"Leave me be, lady. I deserve no charity."

"Charity? No. I'm offering you a chance to prove yourself to your Lord and God."

"My lady? Forgive me for saying, but you look like no sister of God I've ever seen."

She smiled. "Your eyes are a-right. I am no nun; I am a queen. Come with me to my island-nation, and help me build a strong Christian kingdom in this sea of paganism.'

"Y-Your isle? Eiru?"

"Nay, nothing to grand," she laughed. "The Isle of Man."

He backed away. "Then you are the sorceress Glorith!" He reached for his sword.

"Aye. But I've found Iesous, and repented. If you believe me not, then strike me down, that my redemption may be judged by my lord."

She knelt before him, with hands outstretched, as if to welcome his sword-strike.

He hesitated, and she knew she had him.

"You speak truly, don't you?" he was still cautious.

"I am. Please, let me show you the churches we have built. My ship is not far."

One Hundred and Thirty-three

Lu, Garth and Thom were stunned.

"If you're not helping, then stay OUT OF MY WAY!" Dyrk shouted.

The seas were getting rougher, and Dyrk was steering them away from the coast.

"But Dyrk, we're heading out to sea," Garth insisted.

"The bay of Portus Magnus is wide indeed, but we shall reach the isle of Vectis. Must I remind you that King Rokk placed this effort under my command?"

So redressed, the knights returned to their stations.

Lu shook her head. "There is Vectis," she pointed. With the rocky waves and ocean sprays, it was difficult to see, but it did appear like a distant island.

Garth nodded. Helping Kentish Khund refugees of Roxxius' latest attack settle was one thing, and as unseemly the prospect of expanding Khund settlement west of Portus Magnus, the likelihood of being tossed by storms out in the open Channel was even less appealing.

Glancing back, the other boats still followed.

"Kent is under my watch," Thom reminded Dyrk, "and I say we turn for that island!"

"You're just jealous. Trying to undermine me," Dyrk snarled. "I want you all off my boat! NOW!"

The trio looked at each other. Did Dyrk really expect them to jump ship out in the bay?

"Calm down, all. Dyrk is right," said the priest. "We'd best do this his way."

"Thanks, nameless!" Dyrk smiled. At least someone appreciated-

As the priest put his hand reassuringly on Dyrk's shoulder, suddenly the knight grew drowsy, and could no longer stand up.

"He's been on too many duty assignments in a row, He needs rest," the priest said.

Garth and Thom looked at each other. They were grateful, but amazed at yet another magickal-seeming effort by the priest: he'd opened MacKell's cave, made a sword dissolve, made a sick child healthy - and now this.

Lu, in the meantime, ordered the boat around, that they could make landfall before the storm grew too fierce.

One Hundred and Thirty-four

What went wrong?

Imra asked herself that question over and over, as the fever burned her brain. Beren was the only one who could stand to be near her, as she projected her pain outward.

"Hush, child," he soothingly said, feeding her more of a honeyish elixir, the only thing that seemed to calm her.

All the other ladies of the court - and a number in outer Londinium afflicted - were now recovered. Except the queen.

Soothed by the honey, she drifted back into sleep - but not the sleep of fanciful dreams, but into a realm of True Dreams, a crystal-clear reality her teachers had spoken of.
She was standing in the city. Londinium looked different - but Londinium it was not.

"Rome," she whispered to herself. But not the Rome since Vandal conquest - Rome as it had been, marble and pristine, perhaps in Augustus' time.

"Hello, child," said a voice.

"Who is there?"

An imposing figure in a purple robe, with face -if any- obscured appeared before her. "Welcome to my realm."

"You are master of Rome?"

"I am master of all. I am Terminus.

"Jupiter, Saturn, Apollo, Janus, Diana, the Caesars, all gods come and go, and bow before me as they fade. So shall the Christian's one-god, someday."

"Terminus, the Roman god of boundaries," Imra said, recalling her lessons.

"The Romans were the first to name me, t'is true, but I have always been here. I will always be here, at the end of all things."

"I am dying, then? I am entering your realm?"

"Not today. I just wanted to meet you. You shall be my agent in the world you know."

"And if I say, 'no?'"

"A choice, it was not. We will meet again."

Imra awoke in a start, the fever broken. What did he mean, I would be his agent?

One Hundred and Thirty-five

"Eiru," L'ile declared.

"Are you certain?" Rokk asked.

"Absolutely. Three separate sources -all reliable- affirm that Roxxius has a stronghold at Oilean Ard Neimheadh - Newath's Island, in the south-west of Eiru," Reep reported.

"And - he is paying hefty tribute to Coirpre mac Neill, the high king at Tara," L'ile added. "We can expect him to have Irish allies."

Rokk nodded. "I want Laoraighll and MacKell here as soon as possible, as our Eiru experts. Dispatch Genni to Lindum to send for him, and... bid Sir Derek to take his place in overseeing Anglia, as soon as he is able to take command.

"Send word by horse to Marcus and Nura in Tintagel, that we shall need to consult en route with Nura on Coirpre mac Neill. She'll know him better than Laoraighll, I'll wager," he continued.

"Have the fleet at Portus Magnus readied, and the cavalry stand guard here in Londinium. With the fleet dispatched, I want them ready for any Khund who seeks to profit from Roxxius' distraction."

Querl entered just as Rokk finished the last. "Ah, good, Querl. I want you to supervise the installation of your Computus on my flagship at Portus Magnus. We shall see how it fares against a most deadly of foes."

Irish allies? thought Rokk. Perhaps I can find another ally for our cause.

One Hundred and Thirty-six

The palace seemed empty. Those who hadn't left with Rokk were either out at the coastal forts or drilling with the cavalry.

Even Laurentia, Tenzil and Carolus were tending to the field units.

Luornu never felt so alone.

She strolled the empty halls of the palace, absent-mindedly rubbing her hand over her belly. The sickness had cost her more than a nasty spell of itches and fevers.

She had not wished for a child, but now that it was gone, she missed it, and felt nothing but guilt - for everything. For her affair with Dyrk. For being unwed and pregnant. For the shame she would have brought on Guinevere's court. For wishing her own child dead and gone - and mostly, for getting her wish.

She quietly sobbed in the hall. There was no one to give comfort. No one-

"Lady Luornu? What ails you?" It was Zendak's brat, Virginia.

"Nothing I'll share with you. Please leave me."

The only other soul in this palace, and it had to be her.

"If you are jealous because Sir Dyrk-"

"LEAVE ME!"

The girl scampered away, near tears.

"Would you treat all as such, who wish to unburden your heart?" the queen asked.

"My lady! I did not hear-"

"Rokk complains that these halls too easily muffle footsteps," she smiled. "Would you tell me your ills?" she asked tenderly.

"I... have been the harlot. I let a knight get me with child. The fever took it," she sobbed.

The queen nodded. "I, too, lost a child. Now I have two infant souls on my conscience."

"You? But it was my sin-"

"Hush," the queen ordered, choosing her words carefully with such a devoutly Christian lady. "The plague could have been prevented... I failed us all. I... can say no more of it, but for all it's value, I am to blame, and if I can be so brazen, I hope to someday earn your forgiveness."

She wants my forgiveness? Oh, what burdens can she possibly bear?

"B-Before the king left, I strolled out late in the even to see Querl's Computus, that which almost took my sister's life. I stood before it, wishing it would take me. If I knew how to operate it..." Luornu trailed off into tears once more.

"You Christians place that as a grave offence," the queen stated. Luornu nodded.

"Do not give up so easily what so many have fought so hard for. You think you carry burdens? Let me tell you of two sisters, Guinevere and Jeka, and a third girl thrown into the mix..."

One Hundred and Thirty-seven

The Computus fired, and hit the tower.

It seemed to do no damage whatsoever.

Querl frowned. "As I feared. The Computus must be anchored on land to be effective."

"Then do so," Rokk said. "We shall make landfall, and Thom's men shall secure the perimeter."

He wasn't about to send another team to make a frontal assault - not after Lar's team failed, and was slowly making its way back to their boat - sitting ducks out in the mossy terrain.

With the second boat landed and the Computus being moved, all appeared in order. Within minutes, Lar, Garth, Reep and L'ile could reach the safety that the rocky shore offered.

"Demons!" shouted Dyrk. "What magicks are these?"

Startled, the Rokk and the others turned to see bolts of fire flying out at their comrades.

"Madness!" Rokk shouted. "Ready the archers. We must provide cover!"

Several volleys of archers proved ineffective. A wall of fire now stood between Lar's force and the boats - and the blasts were getting loser to hitting the boats.

"King Rokk!" Lu blurted. "If we faked a frontal assault, it could distract the fiends long enough to-"

"-Let Stigandr get the knights across the fire, aye. But I'll go alone. I cannot ask anyone else to risk themselves." Rokk said. After giving Stig his assignment, he drew his sword, ready to charge - only to find Thom and Lu ready and waiting.

"No! I forbid it!"

"Three make a better distraction than one," Thom rebutted.

Rokk nodded, reluctantly accepting the truth. "We charge for 50 yards, and stop. By then, either our distraction will work, or it won't serve anyone to go forward."

They nodded. Joined by the camp in a battle cry, the charge began - only to be met by a bolt of fire.

"King Rokk is down!" Berach shouted.

A second bolt hit the Computus, knocking Querl and Loomius down.

"It's up to us then," said the Northman, eyeing the tower. I pray this is not suicide, he thought.

One Hundred and Thirty-eight

I've had Roxxius' boat land not far from where Cradelmant surrendered, Jonah noted, hoping any sentries noted the symbolism.

"How far to Londinium?" Roxxius growled. He still didn't trust this supposed 'rogue knight,' but this was the first man he knew who could lead him to the San Graal.

"If we had horses, we could arrive within the hour. So it shall be by afternoon," Jonah replied. Long enough for King Rokk to set a trap, he mentally sneered.

"Maybe slightly less," said Roxxius, as a strange mist enveloped them.

Is this how he enters fortresses unseen? Jonah wondered, following his employer.

The terrain around seemed blurry. When the blur faded -if not the mist- they were within Londinium's walls!

"Which way is the palace?" asked the raider.

Jonah looked around. "There!" He pointed to the Mithraeum, the most impressive building within immediate sight.

Taking advantage of the early morning quiet, the party avoided the market square and toward the temple. The mist let them through the walls, and into a large chamber.

"This is a temple, not a palace!" Roxxius bellowed.

"Aye, it is," replied a voice.

Even Jonah was surprised - it was the enigmatic nameless young priest.

"I understand you've been seeking me? The let your plundering of shore towns and villages end. I am yours."

"Yes, you are," Roxxius smiled. "Have Sir Gawaine killed," he told his men, before returning his attention to his quarry. "Without a guard? You are brave, if not smart."

He pulled the lad into the mists, leaving several of his men behind to fight Jonah.

"King Rokk left to lay siege to your lair in Eiru, but I knew you'd come here," said the priest. "Now I ask information of you. Why do you seek me? I am but god's servant."

"You are a wizard who can make me gold. Some say you are of God's bloodline, but I care only for gold."

"Sang Real? The holy blood? T'is true I have been gifted by God, but-"

"-Enough. You shall make me gold. You shall surround me in gold, and I shall at last rest!"

They arrived back at the boat, and Roxxius ordered it out to sea.

An hour out, the boat began to sink.

"Bail! Turn about! We shall return to shore and mend!" the raider bellowed.

But the bow was descending below the waves, and the oar-men complained that the oars were heavy, and falling apart.

"What have you done?" Roxxius bellowed at his captive.

"I gave you your wish," he said. The morning sun was finally clearing the clouds, and the entire boat glistened as only one metal does.

"You've killed us all!"

"Nay. I followed your wish," said the priest, walking away - atop the waves. "Rest well," he said, before turning away.

Roxxius opened his pouch of mists - but it. too was full of gold dust, not the magicks his love had given him. His boots weighed heavily as the salt water overtook him.

I'm loving this Kent, Jan as a priest is perfect!

More, more, more!!!

Thanks, QB!

You gotta give us more Subs too!

Notes 125-138:
125: The Auley connection, hopefully obvious by now, was introduced with Lot back on page 2 (somewhere around chapters 11 to 14, i think).
126/127/128: the onset of plague gave me an excuse to get back to characters I've been meaning to use, but have been neglecting.
129/133: Extending the Roxxius story gave me the excuse to tie in other early Adventures pertaining to raiders and refugees.
130/134: Speaking of three-teen numbered issues of Adventure, while initially uncomfortable with Imra making such a folly, she was the natural link to delve into the plague and a cloaked figure with a "T" name.
131: This was a toughie, and I've resisted the temptation to severely edit it. I knew Roxxius would strike Tintagel, and Nura's word was needed to convince Roxxius to accept Jonah, but once they were face-to-face, the outcome seemed predetermined and obvious, much to my regret.
Pet peeve time: Hollywood and Broadway aside, it's pronounced Tin-TADG-ul, not TIN-ta-Gul. Ask the locals; I did.
132: Glorith is such a pious lady, isn't she?
135: Irish history is a lot more vague than the British at this time; it took effort to figure out who was king. There were probably two competing would-be high kings at this time, and Coirpre mac Neill was one of them. For my purposes, he is sole high king, unless I later change my mind.
136: Luornu and Dyrk, obviously, never coupled in the comics, but it's really fit here in LoC. They're not done playing off each other, at least.
137: Again, Roxxius tied to other early Adventures. Even if he's not home.
138: Jan as a priest seemed natural, especially since we already have so many Druids.
I use a play on words other also use to point to the Grail conspiracies- San Graal ("Holy Grail") vs. Sang Real ("Holy blood").
Early Grail stories do NOT refer to the shape of the Grail, only its powers, and its association with a chalice, especially in Britain, clearly comes from rich Celtic lore of magical chalices, including the Cauldron of the Gods I use in this work.
Many have conjectured that the original Grail stories referred not to an artifact, but the descendents of Jesus, whether brought to Britain by Joseph of Arimathea or a millennia later by the Knights Templar/Masons.
Is Jan of that lineage, or did Roxxius assume incorrectly? Time will tell. Maybe.

Hope you enjoy writing this as much as I enjoy reading it, Kent. The grounding in real historical events is particularly interesting - and your notes (and the Primer) are a great addition! Nice tie-in with the King Midas fable, too.

Thanks, FC! You're the first to express favor for the notes - i was wondering if they were useful or not. I gotta get back to the Primer someday, too.

So double thanks!