The Exile

-Part II, Chapter 6-

A New Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh yes."

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

"Lunch?" Her stomach embarrassed her.

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

"A bath?"

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

"I think there is still some hot water."

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

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

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

"For how much?"

"Nothing."

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

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

"But I am neither."

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

She weighed his words.

"Won't you join us for lunch?"

She nodded.

"I'm Father Flaejer by the way."

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

"Ahh you're awake."

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

"Where am I?"

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

"I'm sorry about sister Maria."

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

"Oh."

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

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

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

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

Gwen smiled at the compliment.

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

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

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

"Thank you Tony."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi Ms. Alfonsa."

"How's my favorite young courier?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh yes ma'am."

"Please sit down."

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

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

"Your home looks pleasant enough."

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

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

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

"Is it to your liking?"

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

"I think so."

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

Guinevere nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course," Ms. Alfonsa said.

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

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

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

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

"Are those your things?" Kerenza asked.

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

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

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

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

"Oh yes. Let me get my things."

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

"Is that all you have?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I would actually."

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

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

"It's all yours Ms. Jen."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mmmm."

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

Gwen supposed that made sense.

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

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

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

"What shall we do now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes you will Gwen."

"Excuse me My lady."

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

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

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

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

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

"Jen?" Synove's expression was questioning.

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

Synove merely shrugged.

"Raise your arms for me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jen-"

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

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

"Yep," Gwen replied.

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

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

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

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

"Synove, do you know anyone named Adras?"

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

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

"Adras is strange."

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

"Never a more unladylike being have I seen."

This provoked snort from Ylsa.

"Synove you're being a prude."

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

"Prude." Ylsa interrupted.

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

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

"But why?" The dark haired woman asked.

"It was fight or be killed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Guinevere. Ms. Guinevere!"

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

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

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

"You called to me?"

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

"I thought you did."

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

"Oh thank you."

"This would be perfect."

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

"It called you don't you think?"

"No I don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Matilde," Ylsa nodded.

"Ylsa," Matilde dipped her head politely.

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

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

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

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

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