SWEET DEFENDER

by Marti Phillips

© copyright by M. Anne Phillips
cover art by Tara Lynn
ISBN 1-891020-35-8
Rocket Edition 1-58608-046-6
New Concepts Publishing
www.newconceptspublishing.com

Prologue

They had seen each other in a dream.

Corinna drifted in the peaceful warmth of sleep, and the dark eyed warrior was suddenly there, the candle light dancing off his silver studded arm guards. His sword and armor glistened as did the golden torc at his neck. He rose from the pallet of furs to stand at full height, his long, hard-muscled body gleamed tawny golden in the twilight as he carelessly pushed back his thick, sweeping dark hair. A smile of wonder lit his handsome face and his sensuously sculpted mouth formed a question even as she moved toward him. I know you...somehow...With a few more steps she would be able to reach through the silvery mist and touch him, know if he was indeed a man or just a beautiful, elusive dream. But then Corinna became afraid as strange voices seemed to whisper and laugh from the shadows, and she drew back. When she looked for him once more he was gone, there was only the heavy mist. She moved about in her bed, restless, too warm, then half awakened by the annoying jangle of the alarm clock on her night stand. Soon her vision focused on the light creeping through the curtains and outside she heard the city traffic beginning. Corinna forced her eyes open and reached for her robe, stoically rising to begin another day.

She materialized before him, a most pleasing vision, shimmering, mystical, yet hauntingly real. The young warrior tried to clear his haunted thoughts with a splash of cold water from the stream, but her image remained burned into his brain. He had seen her through a mist; her lovely face turned to the new sun, her exquisite green eyes flashing and her long raven hair tumbling over satiny white shoulders. Who was this beautiful stranger and why had she come to him in an unforgettable dream last night, reaching to him as if beckoning, then drifting away when he tried to touch her? It seemed they had been together once...before. Perhaps...in another life? He shivered, naked in the chill at dawn, tortured by a longing he had tried to forget existed. He would not believe in anything but the hard reality of the present, and he could not love any woman. He must push away the past and forget that dream of the beautiful temptress, because today, he would lead his men in a grueling battle against the army of the Marauder. Prince Allwyn of Somersea pulled on his clothes, buckled on his sword belt and strode purposefully from the tent.

Chapter 1

Briton, the upper western coast near Scotland

Let them come, he thought savagely.

The winter had been long, and like many of his father’s men he would welcome a battle. As his scouts had told him, the invaders came by sea.

With eyes grown harder each hour he waited, Prince Allwyn Ap Beldaran observed the enemy pouring onto the shore and into the green valley, spreading like a horde of black flies, the morning sun reflecting crimson on the blades of the weapons they brandished.

The captain of his alae approached him where he sat astride his tall mount. The Prince turned to him. "How many, Marlon?"

The captain raised the visor on his battle helm to peer through the trees that separated the valley from the hillside. His steely eyes were those of a seasoned soldier, scanning the enemy host. After a moment, he replied, "nigh to a thousand, my lord."

"That few? Good!" Allwyn’s voice held a touch of conceited irony. "Each man of us has only to kill five of them, and victory is ours! The village bards will be singing of our brave deeds on the morrow."

He wheeled his black stallion around and drew rein beneath the unfurled battle standard, a proud, golden head of a gyrfalcon emblazoned on brilliant blue rippling in the breeze. The banner was the symbol of the small but wealthy kingdom of Somersea, the lands his father held, under Arthur’s vast rule.

The sight of their standard would have roused the men to war songs of numerous victories and heroes of kingdoms across the Isle, but Allwyn had given the command to forego any such noise. He instructed them to prepare for a clever ambush maneuver, addressing the rank’s leaders, "We must wait silent and hidden until they enter the narrow gorge, then we will come at them using the inverted wedge, and trap them in the ravine."

His captains nodded. "Aye, my Prince."

Marlon spoke, "Again my lord employs a cunning strategy."

The plan was relayed back through the lines of mounted warriors. They raised their swords in salute, "We are ready, my liege, every man of us! Hail, Brave Allwyn, Defender of the weak, champion of the downtrodden! He will lead us to victory!"

The grim faced prince nearly smiled as he acknowledged the loyal tribute by uplifting a mail gloved hand. He then instructed his captains to listen for the call to charge, rode ahead and halted his black stallion at the edge of the trees.

The invaders’ large war party had advanced well inland and were pushing forward. They no doubt planned an easy pillaging of the farming villages in the next valley, and be away to their mysterious stronghold before Arthur or any lord could send forces to intercept them. Allwyn thought for a moment of how his father, King Beldaran, would have relished this fight. Beldaran, Lord of Somersea, still called "The Old War Falcon," was away securing trades on the eastern coast. The king had seen war enough to last him an eternity, but like his son he had vowed to fight for the lands of Briton to prevent them from being overrun by tyrants.

Squinting against a climbing sun, the solemn faced prince watched the warriors of the Dark Knight moving closer. Plunderers, thieves, barbarians and outcasts of different lands and lords. Who knew where they all came from? Some were mounted knights in armor and ring mail, but most were archers and foot soldiers.

Allwyn saw suddenly the man he hated most in this cruel world, and God help him, he had allowed himself to hate when this unknown enemy chieftain killed his loved ones. Coupled with a crushing guilt he bore for having left his family poorly protected, the bitter hatred nearly took his sanity once, and it burned in his heart as strong this day. All the years he had pursued the evil killer, this dark, elusive serpent, Allwyn had fought vainly to keep the bitterness from deadening his heart and blackening his soul. Yet, this very vengeance gave him purpose when otherwise his reason for being seemed hollow.

He stared at the leader of the approaching band, a knight wearing polished black mail armor and a silvery surcoat, mounted on a sleek chestnut palfrey. He grated his teeth and tasted cold irony, thinking of how the bards in the villages and the farmers in the fields sang of him, their hero, "Allwyn the Defender, mighty and brave and pure of heart, protector to those in need..."

Allwyn knew he was far from being pure of heart, and been since the day this same darkly clad knight’s brigands murdered those he loved most. His boyish innocence and compassionate understanding of his world had been destroyed along with them.

Today, he could kill the enemy knight and many of his warriors without a shred of remorse. His heart was a cold, empty shell, filled with vengeful bitterness, and nothing or no one could touch his hollow soul. The sweet dream of the raven haired woman’s soft smile suddenly flitted through his memory, but he stonily willed her away. He could never love again, that part of his life was over. Besides, this was no time to be thinking about any woman, real or some fey illusion, when battle strategy and survival must be his only concern.

Allwyn trussed back his dark, flowing locks in a strip of leather and took up the battered helm and shield. Today, he and his valiant men would make these invaders rue they had landed here. Soon their heads on pikes would decorate the shoreline, a warning to any who dared to challenge him further.

Let them come, indeed.

San Francisco...

Horns on autos of every make and model shattered the hazy afternoon. A semi-truck nearly side swiped her car, and one more angry freeway commuter shook his fist at her for cutting short his reckless pass. At least it wasn’t another middle finger jutting up in the driver’s side window, a not unfamiliar sight amidst the concrete and steel jungle she often thought she was beginning to hate. Corinna had one of her tension headaches and felt as if the clothes she had worn since six a.m. were sticking to her perspiring body. It hadn’t been easy getting out of a cozy bed so early, especially having been awakened from that dream she had experienced sometime just before dawn.

She laughed ironically at it now. Sure, like she would ever really meet a man such as the one in her dream; glossy dark hair flowing above his broad bronzed shoulders, mesmerizing fire-lit eyes that seemed to question and distrust her, yet admire and drink her in at the same time. And in the dream she had reached out, wanting desperately to go through the bright mist to him... Must have been a product of my innermost mind, living the fantasies I never will, she thought. Corinna regretted that the years alone in the city were hardening her heart, but perhaps that was safest in the long run. For now, she wished she could just get away somewhere, relax and enjoy herself in new and more interesting surroundings for awhile. She swerved to miss a Porsche that had swung into her lane, and then fiercely took out her frustration by holding down on the horn button. Spotting the exit sign at last, she gave an audible sigh and aimed the Taurus down the ramp to the beach road.

After a few miles, the crazy city melted into landscaped lawns and then clusters of lush palms adorning the suburban estates. She saw the steel blue line of the Pacific and soon was coasting down the long driveway leading to Emery and Adele’s seaside villa. This visit held a dual purpose. She was of course fond of Adele, her aunt by marriage who was widowed when her husband, Corinna’s uncle, died from cancer. How could she not be fond of someone who had stepped in when her mother and father were suddenly gone, killed in an auto accident. Although in the process of building a new life of her own, Adele had seen to it that Corinna, a timid, scared little girl had a place to call home and proper schooling. She had been a wonderful guardian in every way.

However, after Corinna entered college and Adele married for a second time, they had not been as close as before. She had made friends at college, but they could not replace a family. Corinna made it a point to visit the Markhams once in a while. Other than some cousins who lived on the east coast, they were the only family she knew. In the past she and Adele had visited museums and taken in the theaters together, as time and work permitted. Corinna loved the outdoors and would walk on their strip of beach when the weather permitted. Since taking on this writing research work as well as finishing college, she had been absent from Emery and Adele’s coastal haven.

Her current job as a writer’s assistant would pay for her final semester at the university. It was her historical interests that led to an interview with novelist/screenwriter Art Chakrah. He needed impeccable research on his latest project, an adventure movie set in early medieval Britain, complete with warlords, queens and witches. He promised a nice salary plus a hefty bonus. Best of all, she could make a name for herself as a literary researcher and possibly land other big movie or book projects.

The first week she worked for Chakrah was so exciting and required such perseverance that Corinna almost forgot to eat. She would consult with her boss by phone, then she sat at the table in her small third story apartment, a fortress of books surrounding her, her fingers pounding the computer keyboard into the wee hours. Early mornings meant classes at the university, then by mid afternoon she was scouring the libraries for more reference books. The well accredited writer was insistent that no unconfirmed, possibly inaccurate material, nor even classic works of literature be used. Facts, not folklore, Chakrah had put it.

Like most endeavors in which you get in over your head, Corinna began with incredible enthusiasm but soon found the task beginning to bog down. She had one untapped source remaining, and felt it might be a gold mine. Her step-uncle, Emery Markham, was a respected Professor of Historic Culture and an academic documentary writer. He was well versed in the history of England, the land of his ancestry. Last winter she had sat with rapt attention in one of his classes. When the Professor lectured on a country’s customs and their everyday lives and legends, he mesmerized listeners. Some commented they felt transported back in time. He also had written books on Celtic and Gaelic religions and ancient magic, a personal interest of his.

Corinna parked her car, and noticed her aunt coming from the garden with freshly cut lilies in the willow basket she carried. Corinna had always thought her aunt’s wardrobe was a little different from the normal suburban wife; almost too old fashioned and Gypsy like, but she wore it with style. A petite, olive skinned, attractive lady in her mid forties, Adele pulled her unruly brown hair into a lace bow and dressed in gaily patterned tunics, long skirts, and bronze or silver antique jewelry. She could collect the jewelry to her heart’s content, since she was owner and proprietress of a little shop in the valley that sold unusual old pieces.

Corinna climbed out, took a breath of fresh sea air and met her aunt at the steps.

"Hello, Corrie! It’s been too long since you last visited. I am so glad to see you! And say, congratulations on landing the job with Art Chakrah." Adele hugged her niece, her hazel-gold eyes alight with interest. "Emery was quite intrigued when I told him about this new project of yours. He will be just the person to consult, considering his extensive knowledge of European history."

Corinna thought of Emery as a nice step-uncle, but the best relationship they had was a teacher-student one. She had never come away without learning something from the scholarly Englishman. He had been married to Adele for several years now. Corinna felt comfortable with both of them as her family, and the loss she had felt when, like a fledgling bird she moved from the cozy nest out on her own, seemed silly now. In fact, she had come to enjoy her independence. Life in the city was challenge enough to keep her from boredom, although that life often became tiresome.

Adele took her to the tastefully decorated sitting room with the sea view, and poured two stemmed crystal goblets of Chablis. She first asked her niece about school and friends, then came the old familiar question, "ummm...is there a special man in your life...yet?"

Adele had said it more than once; that she could see no reason for "Corrie" to be still unattached at twenty-six. The daughter of her sister-in-law was blessed with long, shining black tresses, captivating sea-green eyes, and her figure that of a well rounded classic beauty. She was rather reserved, yet actually quite spirited and willful. She was certainly warmhearted and caring with those close to her. But in the years after high school, Adele feared Corinna had become a bookworm, and in the past months, a workaholic with no time for anything social.

Usually, when her aunt asked the inevitable "boyfriend question," Corinna would laugh and reply with droll humor, something like, "Well...I’ve dated a computer geek whose main conversational subjects were surfing the web and his gigabytes, and I was seeing a bank president’s son who drove a Mercedes bought by "Daddy" and couldn’t appreciate an honest dollar because he never had to, and then there was the junior collegiate honor student who nearly gave himself whiplash trying to eyeball every blonde with supermodel proportions."

And they shared a laugh about the whole dating scene these days. That was about as much as Corinna would reveal on her romantic frontier, because for some time it had been non-existent. Today her reply was, "Show me a man worth the trouble and I might make an effort, otherwise I will just have to wait for my Prince Charming to come." She added, "I’m not holding my breath it will happen, either. Not with the men I’ve seen lately."

Adele waved away her cynical remark. "Oh, come on, Corrie. It will happen. Before I met Emery I despaired there was no man meant for me, either. I awaited that proverbial white knight in shining armor, someone who lived by courage and daring, and respected a lady."

"And Emery fits the mold?"

"In many ways, yes." Adele chuckled with wry humor and said rather mysteriously, ""although along the way, his armor may have become just a bit tarnished, at times.""

Corinna sipped her wine and said thoughtfully, "I don’t know, somehow...to me, the world today seems so hurried, so greedy and impersonal. I read all the literature and I wonder how accurate the history really is. They couldn’t depend on the everyday conveniences we have, and yet, they got by. I sometimes feel I was born in the wrong era. Anyway, I don’t need a man in my life to be happy. What I need is time to produce a stellar piece of work on this project and make a lot of money." She paused and smiled at Adele, ""I am glad you found a man who deserved you. Speaking of which, is the good professor busy?"

"No, Corrie. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get him."

Adele disappeared down the hall to find her husband. A few minutes later they returned. Emery looked wonderful for his age; sixtyish, tall and slim with silvery hair, dark eyebrows and trim beard. His rounded, tanned face was kind and his eyes held warmth and intelligence. She knew him to be a mild mannered fellow, mostly, but she had seen his eyes snap with the fire of indignation as he scolded a lazy or class disrupting student.

Emery’s greeting was an apologetic smile as he said. "Concerning this delving into Breton history, child, I’m afraid my collection of royal parchment books and monastery scrolls which would have been the most helpful to you, are stored at our chalet in Somerset."

Corinna said, "Emery, you are the one person I know whom could give me the information I need, without books and scrolls."

The professor, flattered, replied, "I suppose I could, having given plenty dissertations of that nature. We can also peruse what I have here in my library."

Adele interrupted, "I have a marvelous thought! Corrie, couldn’t you go to England? Yes, you could fly over and stay at our place by the sea. Your research should go quickly there in the study where it is quiet and cozy. The town and countryside are lovely, and Emery has stocked an extensive, rare library, I promise you."

Her aunt sounded as excited as if she were going herself.

Corinna’s face brightened at the idea, then she sighed. "I’d like that, I really would, but time and my boss will not permit it, I don’t think. Thank you for the offer, though." She inquired of Emery, "How soon can we get to your books?"

"This weekend if you wish,"" he replied.

Adele suggested, "How about coming to dinner on Sunday, and afterward

you two can work in the library."

On Friday, her classes over, Corinna gave her best friend Jamie a ride to the university apartments. "So, you're visiting your aunt and step uncle this weekend?" Jamie asked, and when Corinna nodded, she went on, "I..there's something I wanted to tell you...something rather strange concerning your step-uncle, the Professor.

"Emery Markham? What's that?"

"My boyfriend Kurt says there is something strange concerning Professor Markham. He recently took a trip to the Sierras with his metaphysics class. He said that when they were ready to leave the mountain camp, Professor Markham arranged for his students to go back to town with the guide, and then he disappeared."

"The guide disappeared?"

"No, the Professor! And, you know curious Kurt, nothing would do but that he follow him around the mountain to see what he was up to. And he said..." Jamie's eyes went wide and her voice was very serious, "He saw Professor Markham standing on a cliff, and he put on a long black cloak."

Corinna smiled at her impressionable friend's ominous tone, and said, "That's no big deal. I've gone riding those trails up there. It gets chilly."

"Oh, but wait until you hear this! Kurt said then..." Jamie paused with dramatic emphasis. "He said the Professor just lifted the corners of his cloak and walked off the edge into thin air, and vanished!" Jamie looked as if she were witnessing the scene right now.

Corinna was laughing so hard she could barely park the car. "That Kurt! Hey, didn't you tell me he wants to be a science fiction writer? I believe he has the imagination for it!"

"Kurt was very sure of what he saw, and he swore me to secrecy about it." Jamie said.

"I imagine there is a much less intriguing explanation for what Kurt thought he saw," Corinna chuckled. "Since Emery in interested in caves that may contain ancient artifacts or hieroglyphics, he probably went into one, and that is why he "vanished." Don't you agree that is much more believable?"

Jamie shrugged, "I guess so. Thanks for the ride, and have a great weekend. I'll see you on Monday."

On the way home, Corinna laughed every time she remembered Jamie's story. Sure, like the mild-mannered, kindly Professor Markham could walk off a mountain cliff, vanish into thin air, and return to his classes the next day, none the worse for wear. Those drama class students!

Her aunt called on Sunday afternoon to remind her, "Dinner will be about six o’clock, and after, you will have the rest of the evening to study."

Corinna confirmed that she would be there and decided to refresh with a quick nap. She fell asleep within minutes, and slipped into another dream much like the first. She stood in a flower covered meadow surrounded by tall, black rocks. It was wildly beautiful and no place she had ever been. At the sound of hooves she looked up the hillside and saw a rippling blue flag with a golden figure emblazoned across it. Beneath it was the same dark haired man on a big black horse charging down the knoll. The handsome stranger, who was dressed in silver body armor but wore no headgear, gave out a war cry in a strong voice, and she turned to see whom he was rushing at.

Directly behind her appeared another knight clad in dark chain mail with a silver cloak swinging over his broad back. His black helmet looked as though it were sporting a sinister grin, and everything about him suggested evil. She could have sworn his eyes gleamed fiery red behind the visor. He laughed and reached for her with an iron grip as she stood powerless to move.

She felt a chill shoot up her spine when a voice thundered, "Corinna!" This cry of the dark haired warrior echoed in the rocks all around them. He felled his black clad opponent with a stunning blow and snatched her up in his powerful arms, away from the dark knight. She stared into his face, mesmerized by his exotic dark eyes.

His sensuously curved lips spoke the words, "I shall keep you safe, My Raven..." His touch heated her skin as his protecting arms circled her waist and tightened, and her heart beat faster with a joyous exhilaration.

Then, in horror, she saw the dark knight rise like a specter behind her rescuer, with a raised sword to bring down upon his head... She awoke with a gasp, a cold sweat beaded her forehead, her breathing was quick and shallow. This dream of the warrior had been more frightening, and the danger had seemed so vividly real.

Corinna sat up and stretched, coming back to reality as she stared at the clock on her wall.

She suddenly remembered dinner with the Markhams, and realized she was running late.

After a sumptuous meal of roast duck, shallots and fine Bordeaux, Adele excused herself saying, "I’ll let you two should get started, I know there is a lot of material to sift through."

"Yes," the professor smiled at his niece as she helped clear the table. "What do you say, Corrie, shall we crack the books?"

Emery’s library was lined in oakwood paneling, and the walls were adorned with various artifacts: Celtic, Byzantine and Roman tapestries, old shipmaster’s maps, and masks and weapons from various cultures.

Corinna had only been in his private study one other time when her aunt showed it as the newest addition to the house, and then it had been unfinished. She had forgotten about the unusual round window. It was crafted of opaque glass inlaid in a sunburst pattern with alternating red, yellow, blue, and lavender colors like a rainbow. There were thirty panes, and lathes between each. They resembled large spokes on a wheel and each bore carved symbols burned into the oak.

The center was a two foot round crystal prism. She had asked Emery about the elaborate window before, and he vaguely explained something about a replica of an ancient magician’s wheel. She couldn’t remember if he had mentioned what the designs meant.

Emery was in his alcove searching the shelves for the proper books. He brought an armload to the table. "Ah, yes, these should provide us with some of what you need."

Corinna walked across the long, rectangular room, remembering the large fieldstone fireplace hearth with a grate, where Emery set his customary cup of Earl Gray tea to keep it warm. She noticed the study smelled of burnt wax, or maybe old parchment. She took a seat in one of the large winged back chairs, and looked at the old maps on the wall.

Emery stood and said, "I believe there are a couple of volumes still back there, I’ll go and find them."

As he disappeared once again into the alcove, Corinna got up to view the maps more closely. They appeared to be of antique, heavy vellum, including one of Atlantis. One map, however, stood apart from the others, partly because it was labeled "Ancient Breton," partly because it was carved of some sleek, dark wood. Every known city of that day and mountain and shoreline was raised. The names were skillfully carved and capped with gold.

Corinna had always enjoyed intricate old world maps, and this one was especially fascinating. She touched her forefinger to the spine of land where it met the sea, in a ragged shoreline, then traced an embossed winding trail that someone with a gilt pen had labeled "Road to Camelot." She almost laughed, sure, if there was such a place. Suddenly, she was overcome by dizziness, and from nowhere a bitterly cold, sharp wind tore at her clothes and hair. She jerked her hand back from a searing heat. She gasped, turned, and looking straight into the round window, in the clear crystal she experienced something of a vision.

She took a stunned step backward, and suddenly everything was just as it had been before. The fireplace crackled with flame around the logs and the grandfather clock ticked on, echoing monotonously. But she had seen something. When her gaze met the center of the window, a small bright circle appeared, and within that sphere she had seen .... A massive, dark stone fortress high on a beautiful wide hill between the forest and the sea. And mounted warriors with blue shields and hoisted pikes riding from it, and then...

She whirled around to see if Emery had witnessed any of this weird occurrence. The professor hummed softly to himself, as he leafed unhurriedly through a thick, leather bound volume. He was apparently unaware that anything had happened to his niece, for his back was still turned to her. Corinna drew in a deep breath and forced her shaking hands into her trouser pockets. What on earth happened to me? she wondered. I know I can tolerate one glass of Bordeaux without anything like this occurring. It was no dream, she had been wide awake. I must be hitting the books way too much. Surely, I imagined that vision, or whatever it was. She went to the window and peered through the prismed crystal center. The moon was a lovely white orb over the charcoal ocean, offset by the silvery sand.

Then she remembered what she had seen in only seconds.

She had been on the rim of a lush green valley, where incredibly tall trees lined one side and huge dark granite rocks the other. Below her a terrible battle raged and men were fallen everywhere across the grassy expanse. A band of armored knights brandishing swords and war clubs struck the shields of their opponents with a resounding din. Around them were foot soldiers with axes and on the hillside archers with bows, and all were engaged in a whirlwind of mortal combat.

Into the midst of the fray rode a silver helmed knight on a black horse, wielding his sword with deadly accuracy, felling all who attacked him or his nearby soldiers. Close behind him was a young flag bearer holding up a blue standard that bore a golden figure of some kind. She could remember little more than that. Had it been an eagle’s head? Or a griffin?

Maybe I do need a break...like going to a nice, quiet chalet in England, she thought.

Emery brought over more books and stacked them on the mahogany marble topped desk. Corinna took a deep breath, sat back in the chair opposite him and took out her pen and notebook. She wanted to say something to Emery about the strange experience with the map, but then she chalked it up to her own stress and decided against interrupting him.

The Professor gave a dissertation on early Britain, post Roman occupation. "The Britons and the Romans, among other nationalities, intermingled, producing a people who practiced both old and new religious customs. One battle chieftain led the Celts and the Cymry to drive back the Saxon and other barbarian invaders, and his reward for bringing peace was high kingship over all Briton. Of course, you know the legend and how it ended. Here’s an interesting note. The peasants, villagers, and even some nobles of the time believed in superstition, signs and portents, such as the total solar eclipse that came in one of those years. The folk who recorded such things believed it was a sign of doom, and some clerics claimed that Arthur died on that day when the land went dark."

Corinna noted this on her tablet, but then her eyes grew so heavy she dozed upright, hearing only a few of Emery’s words. "Avalon...island ...disappeared they said...I believe it sank..." She forced herself to wake and pay attention, but Emery had opened another book.

He cleared his throat, "Ah well, back to the specific facts you need..." Emery began a page on how some descendants of the Druids had continued to follow ancient rites and customs, worshipping the Goddess in the religion of the Old Ones. "Christian civilizations pushed them into the wild. They were called Hill Folk or Faerie Fey, and were often accused of thieving livestock and bringing evil and ill fortune. But many were skilled herbal healers and seers trying to use magic for good purpose." He then began a page on scholastic learning in the monasteries and convents.

Around midnight, Corinna fought to keep her eyes open and her hand ached from all the writing. The fire had diminished to hissing, glowing embers, and the sweet drifting scent of hickory smoke threatened to lull her to sleep any moment. She thought Emery must be tired, also. He was speaking softly, rather absently, "There were evil men who were exalted, and there were kind Faerie who were in danger...That I learned well..."

Her eyes drooped closed even as she wondered what he was reading from. The dark haired warrior walked into her half-awake dream, quite a vision himself, and welcomed by her senses. He was tripped to the waist, wearing only laced breeches, and his powerful, tawny shoulders and glistening chest were beaded with moisture as if he stood in a light rain. He seemed to be pacing a short distance and back again, his dark eyes shadowed and brooding as if experiencing indecision over something. She dared not move, and wanted only to lie back in this blissful position, awe struck at what her eyes beheld.

A sound nearby startled her to waking. Corinna lifted her head, and saw that Emery had accidentally knocked a book from the desk to the floor. She sighed, returning to reluctant wakefulness as Adele tapped at the door to the study. Her aunt was dressed in a plush green chenille robe and carried two cups of aromatic mint tea.

Corinne rose and stretched, and politely turned down the refreshment, saying, "Hot tea always makes me sleepy. I’ll go on home now and get some rest, and let you two do the same."

She thanked Emery for his time, for the use of his books and the history notes. The Professor said no thanks were necessary, he was happy to help. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and hugged her aunt in farewell. Adele said, "Corrie, my dear, be sure to get plenty of rest. I wish you all the best in your work. I know you will be a sought-after research writer one day." She smiled, "And, I think you will meet that special someone before long, too."

Corinna rolled her tired eyes ruefully at her aunt. "I’ll be quite happy with the sought-after research writer part, thank you," she quipped.

Adele glanced over at Emery and said to her niece, "..And, if you do get to England, have a wonderful time." She said goodnight and retired to the master bedroom.

"You had best pack, as you will assuredly journey to England," Emery said as he replaced the books to the shelf.

"How can you be so sure that I will?" she asked," It doesn’t seem possible with my deadline coming up so soon. Mr. Chakrah will never..."

"Study the notes you have while on the plane over," he interrupted with a smile, "study them thoroughly." He reached into his desk drawer. "Here is the key to the chalet, and directions from the airport. And, here is my map of interesting sites. If you will wait another moment, there’s something Adele and I would like you to have."

He fumbled with the combination on his antique safe in the corner, muttered a mild curse that he had forgotten it, and finally reached inside, saying, "There is no need to open this until you get to the chalet. Be sure to take it with you, though. It is a gift."

He handed her a packet wrapped in soft gray suede, and went to the wall of maps. "The house is on Bridgewater Bay off the Bristol channel. Let’s see, it is located about here."

He reached up to touch the carved map of Britain and she stared, but nothing happened. Did you really think it would? She scoffed at herself, your exhausted mind was just playing tricks on you. Forget it.

Corinna tucked the packet beneath her arm, and Emery walked her to the front door. She turned to him and said, "Thank you for everything. Why, I’ve learned more from listening to you than I have in three weeks of cramming text! It is so real and believable, the way you describe the people and the way of life...why, it’s like you had actually lived there. Thanks again."

The last thing she heard as he closed the door was what must have been his odd joke.

"I have, child."

An encampment on the border of Wales...

Bone weary, his arms stinging from the sword and ax blows his armor had barely deflected, Prince Allwyn ordered his men to pitch a fireless camp on the hillside. The enemy band had retreated before sunset, pulling the wounded away with them, then vanishing, but he did not think the battle won, not yet. The heavy woods and rocky slopes were quiet in the moist coolness of dusk. Too quiet. Somewhere an owl hooted, and he listened carefully, but there was no reply.

His tired eyes gazed at the land he called home, the wild tangle of hawthorn and bramble, the craggy black tors, the forests of massive dark trees where no human had ever trod, now bathed in a twilight mellowed hue that belied the ruggedness. He loved this land, but across the churning gray channel lay the deep valleys and the craggy blue mountains of Wales; where he longed to find peace, even if it were lonely. With a deep sigh, he reconciled there was no peace for him.

Not until his family was avenged and this enemy vanquished, so that their people remained safe.

Allwyn took his turn at resting in his tent while his captain stood watch with other warriors who would later change guard. His eyes drooped heavily as he leaned against a pile of furs, and he soon fell into peaceful oblivion. She called his name in a soft voice and glided from a blue and silver swirling mist. The raven-haired woman smiled at him as she reached for his hand, and her grip was gentle and alive. The wispy white dress she wore revealed a silhouette of her luscious curves against the orb of light. His throat and his loins tightened with an ache as he stared at her, riveted, enchanted. His other hand moved of its own will and his fingers touched her bare upper arm. He caught in his breath, for it seemed as if he stroked a warm, downy chick. She must be real, not some creature of the Faerie realm as had been his first thought. Besides, Allwyn did not believe in tales of the folk, nor miracles, nor magic. But how did she appear like this?

"Who are you, and why do you come to me?" He questioned with wonder, but suddenly she seemed frightened, drew away and was gone like before, vanished into the silver mist. Allwyn opened his eyes with a frustrated groan and slowly sat up in the shadowy tent. This damn vision, this woman, would drive him mad unless he learned the reason for it. Once this battle was done, he would seek out the Wise Woman in the Forest of the Charmed. Mayhap the seeress healer, whom his Lady aunt befriended though some feared her a witch, could tell him what this dream meant. The Wise Woman’s husband, the mage Emrys, might look into his seeing wheel and foretell whom or what existed in the future, though Allwyn was cynically skeptical of such things. More skeptical was he that any happiness could find him now. On the unlikely chance such a woman came to him, he dared not lose his heart only to have it destroyed again. He had none left to give.

Chapter 2

The white stone, shingled chalet smelled a bit musty for having been closed up awhile, but it seemed very tidy. The cab driver brought the last of her four pieces of luggage to the foot of the stairs. Corinna tipped him, then she locked the door and dragged the smaller valise and one suitcase up the plush carpeted steps. She set them down in the master bedroom, and decided to explore Emery and Adele’s charming little vacation haven.

Corinna could hardly believe she had gotten this much needed vacation, after all. Odd how quickly it came about. Her boss had phoned from his Antigua island retreat, and although he was on a family holiday, Art Chakrah sounded disgusted and resigned. "There’s a snafu on the project, and the producers are talking a delay of possibly a month, more likely longer. One writer quit, a director’s been fired, there are problems with casting and location, and the investors are arguing over the title! The damn title! But, nothing’s a surprise to me, not dealing with these Hollywood people!" He eventually calmed down and continued, "You have been working hard, Ms. Swift, but now you have more time. Take a few days to relax, and then start fresh. Everything will come together, just not as soon I hoped."

Corinna said quickly, "I have a chance to go to England. I could do more research and write on location."

"That’s a great idea," Chakrah replied, "you can perhaps speak with descendants of folks who lived in the area. I imagine some monastery libraries would have works on that time period. By all means, go. There will be a bonus in it for you if this works out. If there are any questions, my wife and I can be reached here or on the beach by cellphone." He gave her both the numbers.

"Thank you. Otherwise, I will call your office when I return."

"Oh, Ms. Swift, where will you be staying?" he asked.

"It’s near Bridgewater Bay."

"That isn’t far from our Weston location. By the way, there is an old castle up the coast near the Scottish border. It’s called Falcon’s Rest. The site and its history inspired my setting and idea for the movie title." He laughed cryptically, "For what good my idea was, after the hot shot producer changes it. Anyway, the ruins of this old fortress is something you should see. It’s certainly worth the trip.""

"It sounds interesting, I will try to visit that. Thank you, Mr. Chakrah. Goodbye."

As she unpacked, Corinna came across the gift packet from her uncle and aunt. She tugged at the laces that bound it and unrolled the suede pouch to reveal a long, bejeweled white dress. The fabric was incredibly soft and rich and the skirt had a gossamer, web-like overlay with a raggedly uneven hem that swished with gentle movement. She lifted the beautiful garment and noticed something bright lay beneath it. Her fingers closed gingerly around the hilt of a small dagger, and she pulled it from the gilded, velvet lined sheath. It hung perfectly balanced like a large pendant cross on a strong silver chain, and the handle bore what looked to be a Celtic interwoven design in gold. Admiring the cleverly worked necklace, she held it to the sunlit window and watched as the rays caught the fiery amethysts and emeralds around the crux and danced off

the bronze and silver inlays of the pommel.

She wondered why Adele and Emery would want her to have this beautiful but deadly little weapon. Would she be needing it? She looked closely, recognizing the wording of a tiny Celtic inscription along the handgrip. It read "Love and the Human Spirit Know Not the Boundaries of Time."

Corinna smiled and thought, how beautiful, both the wording and the pendant. The gold and jewels would make this, what must have been a wealthy lady’s dirk, very valuable. She wondered whom it might have once belonged to, and on impulse, stood before the mirror and slipped it around her neck.

She stepped back and gasped as the mirror caught the reflection of the large emerald and produced an oval of green fire. She stared, frozen in fearful awe as the orb swirled and spread and became blue-white. The center opened like a window and Corinna stood riveted as she witnessed a scene similar to the one at the beach house. She knew it was the same place she saw before, and there again was the tall rock and earthen fortress flying a blue banner with the proud golden head of a...falcon? Yes, she saw it clearly, it was a brightly embossed falcon.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the phenomenon was gone. She removed the pendant from her neck and placed in on a table, and all sorts of questions began whirling through her mind. How well did she really know Emery? He was there at her high school graduation with the other fathers. He was pleased that she entered college and helped her chose her path of study. Emery had always been a kind man who supported and encouraged her, the same as Adele had. She thought of calling them right now, but if they knew nothing about these strange happenings, what would they think? Would they attribute her visions, which were definitely

another place and seemed of another time, to her intense research and a vivid imagination?

Corinna said aloud, "I can hear Aunt Adele now. She would say, "If you had a man in your life, dear, your mind would not run away with you like that." She laughed, impressed with her own imitation of her former guardian, whom she knew worried about her.

She went to Emery’s library, thinking she had plenty of work to keep her busy without being concerned with her relative’s hobbies. If they dabbled in magic, so what? She knew neither of them would ever harm a soul. Besides, that experience probably hadn’t anything to do with them.

She later took a break, phoned Adele and Emery and left a message, then called a cab to take her into town. She found a restaurant nestled among the older, tall buildings of Burnham. After a late lunch she walked among the shops and bought a few souvenirs, visited some bookstores, bought some groceries at a market, then caught a cab back to the chalet.

In answer to her question when she called earlier and got only the recorder, Emery had likewise left her a message: "Just called to let you know, the castle ruins you inquired about are on the northwestern coast near Scotland. You can take the tour bus from Burnham in the morning. You simply must go to the place at sunset, Adele says, the view is like nothing you will ever see again. She sends her love. Have to go now, have a wonderful journey."

Corinna smiled. A five mile trip, hardly a journey, but then, Emery did like to embellish his expressions at times.

After working in the library for several hours, she stretched out on the tweed sofa and consulted the map her uncle had given her. The ruins of Falcon’s Rest castle was highlighted as one of the local historical interests. Then to her surprise, on the back she found a phone number of a tour line and a message in Emery’s handwriting, addressed to her. The paragraph read:

"The beloved kingdom awaits your arrival, and you are the one who may save it from ruin. There is nothing to fear. Those who believe can exist in other times, for times are merely dimensions parallel to one other across the earth. To experience the true power and essence of this journey, wear the white dress, place the dagger pendant around your neck and walk along the seaside rampart at sunset. It will be an adventure you will always treasure, and we promise you a safe return. The light will come to you, watch for it."

Corinna laughed at first. Emery and his flowery wording. What was this? He must have an adventurous imagination no one knew about. She frowned, puzzled at the meaning of all this, then she became intrigued.

Another call to them proved to be useless, no one was home. She studied the strange note. Apparently her aunt and uncle had visited Falcon’s Rest sometime before. She let her imagination take hold for a moment. Might there be ancient magical forces at a castle several centuries old? It would be exciting to think so. Corinna could hardly wait to visit the old castle. She called the tour company and booked a seat on the bus, then

went back to work in the library.

In one locally written book she found a section on Falcon’s Rest castle: "Thought to have been called Falconaire in early medieval Britain, this cliff top fortress served to guard the resource-rich kingdom from both seafaring raiders and those who would venture into the Channel from lands to the North. Historians claim it was a key stronghold on the coast, inherited through the centuries by the descendants of Celtic warrior kings. Some of those lords were said to have kept mews of fine falcons for sport and hunting small game, therefore lending the castle it’s name."

Satisfied she had gotten a good deal of work accomplished, Corinna retired for the night. When she awoke to a sunny morning, she bathed, had breakfast, and on a whim, decided to put on the white dress Emery and Adele had given her. She liked its softness and marveled at the various colorful gemstones that were sewn around the off-shoulder neckline. There were tiny, gold and silver rings hanging from the sleeves like metallic fringe, and a silver belt cinched the graceful waist.

Corinna glanced in the mirror and couldn’t help admiring herself. How many times had her aunt gently urged that she should not tie her hair back so severely and wear something softer and prettier than those austere pant suits? She wondered if this was what Adele had in mind! With her hair unbound and tumbling wild over her bare shoulders, the low plunging, figure draping dress made her look like a princess of the Ancients, she fancied in her imagination. Perhaps this dagger had once belonged to such royalty. She gazed at her reflection and became empowered with a bold, confident feeling. It was good to feel adventurous for a change.

She buttoned on a modest, long trench coat over the dress, and placed the dagger pendant in her purse instead of around her neck, lest she evoke something like before. As the cab taking her to the bus cruised past the lined by white rock walls in the countryside, Corinna realized that she wanted to experience the vision again. Maybe she would see more this time, and understand what it meant. She was no longer afraid of the strange phenomenon. She even laughed to herself, thinking, "Here I go, Emery, to save the kingdom from ruin!"

The bus wound its way up the coast and across inland while Corinna snapped pictures from the window. She relaxed then and read in a book of English and Scottish history, soon becoming drowsy enough for a nap. She awoke in early evening to find they had arrived at the site.

Tucking her camera and notebook in her purse, she walked to the little gatehouse booth with the others. She noticed with curiosity a group of young people on a nearby hill, diligently working on a large telescope. The lady clerk told her, "Astronomy students. They want to observe the lunar eclipse. It is supposed to happen tonight around eight o’clock."

"If you don’t mind waiting," an assistant said, "our guide will be returning from the ruins with the last group, shortly."

"Thank you," replied Corinna, "but I’d like to explore on my own, if that’s okay. I have a map." She thought, perhaps I can get a picture of the eclipsed moon, maybe as it rises above the remaining tower of the castle. Emery and Adele would appreciate such a photograph.

"That’s perfectly fine, but do watch your step, for some of the stone crumbles rather easily. Be sure to return to the front gate by eight o’clock sharp." advised the clerk.

"Will do, thanks," she said cheerfully.

There was a huge ditch, probably once the moat, and a new footbridge built to cross over to the ruins. She walked to the jagged remains of the four foot thick frontal wall, and began to snap photos. As the shadows grew longer, an eerie feeling stole over her and she went outside the main rooms. One tower stood in the left corner, farthest from the sea cliffs. It rose bulky and dark, more square than round and the roof was gone, but the archer’s slits framed the sky in bright, rectangular views.

Corinna could only imagine what this fortress must have been like in its time. The glinting charcoal colored stones were massive, and evidence of the wall enclosure’s size was present in rubble strewn along the hilltop for a quarter mile.

Peering over a low section of the outer wall, she traced by Emery’s illustrated map the area where the village had been. Only a few patches of rock wall and the remains of a stone cattle byre were visible from where she stood. The trees had been cleared back for a park by landscapers, but a framed wooden documentary said this area once had thick, vast forests surrounding small village settlements and farms.

She strolled along the frontal wall, under the main arch, and came to a ragged opening which she ducked through. There hung an elaborate sign designating that this weed overgrown, laid stone area had been the castle courtyard. From there, she went to the thick outer wall that overlooked the sea. Through a gaping hole where age had crumbled the stones she saw a wire fence beyond with a sign that read: ‘DANGER! Do not pass this point.’

She carefully stepped through the rubble of stones and stood at the fence. A hundred feet below lay a narrow strip of sand, beyond which the surf crashed against a wall of rock. Between the shoreline and where she stood ran a maze of pathways upward through the shale. Corinna wondered who might have carved out these paths, and why. The whole place had a mystical feeling. Without any particular reason, she took the dagger pendant from her purse and slipped it around her neck. Nothing happened, to her relief, and to her disappointment. She left it on, however. It was as Emery said, it helped her realize the history and experience the mood of this place. A glorious sunset spread flame across the sea, bathing all surroundings in a mellow peach glow. Corinna walked about the ruins taking pictures and making notes on what was left of the rudimentary architecture.

Later, she greeted the guide and her group as they made their way toward the gate. But she was exploring the inner walls and not quite ready to join them. At dusk, she was among the shadowy ruins alone.

Glancing at her watch, she noticed it had stopped. That’s weird, Corinna thought, I just bought this watch. She disgustedly stuffed it into her purse. Anyway, she knew by the waning sunset and the ship lights on the dark ocean that the bus would be returning soon.

She started in the direction of the gatehouse, but could no longer see it, or, at least the little white booth was gone. She could have sworn there had been no vine covered earthen hut at the causeway, and she shivered as the breeze blew colder. She saw the lighthouse beacon glimmering above the town, but then it disappeared. The sun was a crimson orb of flame sinking in the dark sea, but suddenly there were no ship beacons visible, and no lights in the town below as there had been only moments ago.

Corinna turned to go back to the gate, and saw that an entirely different source of light had appeared on the dark shore. This glowing sphere was unlike anything she had ever seen, almost otherworldly. What was this!? She stared into the beautiful, swirling blue aura as it spread fan-like into a silver-ringed orb and shimmered toward her. The light?! It must be! Reading his note, she hadn’t understood what Emery said, watch for the light...Her mind seemed to whisper, go to it, go... She craved the adventure and her curiosity would not be denied. She was drawn forward, unaware she was walking to the fence, then not caring.

"Wait! Ma’am, what are you doing?! You can’t go down there!"

It was the security guard, come to hustle any stray sightseers out for the night. Corinna was oblivious to his warning cries as she climbed and clawed her way up the steel fence with an unwavering will. She did not care that she dropped her purse and camera, nor that the protruding wire had torn off her coat. The guard stared in disbelief as he watched the woman in the long white dress leap into the air, her arms thrown wide.

Convinced he had just witnessed a suicide, the guard stood numb a moment, then ran to the sea wall, expecting to see a broken body lying on the shale. Instead, he found the woman was standing on the sand below. Then he swore out loud, froze in his tracks, and watched a cloud of weird, silvery-blue light swallow her up and disappear, leaving only an empty beach behind.

Adele and Emery Markham stood together at the circular window in their study. The center of the wheel was not a view of the California beach, but of the western coast of England at nightfall. They watched as Corinna was swept into a portal of time transverse. The two embraced triumphantly and smiled to each other, knowing they had given their niece the most incredible, wonderful gift they could ever give her.

Chapter 3

She had been walking, but for how long she wasn’t sure. The night was pitch black and damp, the wind howled around her. She shivered in the cold and gradually all her other senses sharpened. A sensation in her feet due to sharp rocks or shells grabbed her complete attention. The pain proved one of her first conjectures wrong. "Well, I’m certainly not dead," Corinna muttered aloud. "But, damn it, I’ve lost my favorite shoes somewhere."

She remembered a swirling heat and her body moving liquidly through a blindingly bright, silvery mist, then nothing. She could see no further than her own hand in this blackness. Where am I? she wondered, as her heart pounded in her chest and panic clutched at her stomach. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she touched the dagger pendant that still hung around her neck, and then, the smell of singed cloth drifted to her nostrils. She found the dress had been damaged, but she seemed sufficiently covered.

Corinna looked all around, trying to get her bearings. There were no town nor automobile lights, no beam from the lighthouse, no boats...nothing but darkness. What on earth had happened and where was she? The very smell of the air and sea were different. She thought in wonder and then desperate fear, the dagger must have had something to do with this!

"Love and the human spirit...know not the boundaries of...time" the inscription had read. She said it carefully aloud to be reassured by her own voice, and searched for an explanation. What was it the strange note said? The kingdom depends on you to save it from ruin...Was this some weird nightmare, just some crazy dream? Corinna couldn’t be sure, but was certain she had been wide awake, in total reality at the ruins only minutes ago. It seemed she was the same person, by the same sea along the rocky coastline, but...

Okay, Okay, she told herself, stay calm. Emery told you about this, only you didn’t get it, and he promised you a safe return. But... Return from where?

Wait, suppose Emery had nothing at all to do with this?! Maybe...it was some sort of powers evoked at the castle ruins. Could such things actually happen? Corinna liked the idea of adventure, but she also liked to be in full control of the situation. This time it would be easy to panic, but she decided to stay levelheaded and keep moving. Looking around, she thought there loomed a massive, dark shape above the shore, but in the dense fog she could not tell if it were a structure or part of the towering cliffs. Since there were no lights about it, she decided to keep walking, and mustered confidence enough to laugh to herself, "Okay, Emery...Here I go to save the Kingdom, wherever it may be!"

It seemed quite some time later when she spotted a glimmer of light, ahead and to her left. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the night, and she could make out trees above a craggy rise in the land. She left the shore and made her way among the rocks, climbing to a hilltop. Corinna said a prayer of thanks for the sliver of moon emerging from behind dark, rolling clouds. Directly in front of her was a grassy slope that led down to a grove of trees wherein the lights flickered. Coming closer, she saw a circle of blazing torches stuck into the ground around a cluster of small buildings. Hopefully, this was civilization of some kind.

Without pausing to think, she ran to the first hut with light seeping through a crevice where the thatch roof joined the wall. She rapped on the crude wooden door, and after a moment it opened to a stocky, bearded man filling the doorway. He wore a brown leather tunic and wool trousers, and a woman behind him in a long gray dress held a lantern out, demanding to know who was calling at this hour.

Corinna shrank backward when she noticed the man held a long knife in his hand. He peered at her in the light of a crude lantern.

"Sir, please forgive me for disturbing you, but I’m stranded...or desperately lost..."

She trailed off due to the blank expressions on their faces. She realized they might not even speak English. The wrinkled faced woman eyed Corinna suspiciously, and then spoke to the man, apparently her husband, "Dost not appear to be a beggar...mayhap she be a trollop, or worse." The woman crossed herself, "Send her away, Tud."

"Please, sir, ma’am," Corinna pleaded, "I just need to contact my relatives..."

Tud then took the lantern from his wife and held it dangerously close to Corinna’s face. He spoke loudly enough to frighten her, "This woman, or whatever she be, speaks not as we do! Her person appears strange, why, she wears a smudged garment and rich jewels!"

"She is a witch! "cried the woman, "see the gown she wears, singed and smoked from her sacrificial fires! Saints save us!" The woman shrank away, frantically crossing herself, and backed into the hut.

Corinna gave up in disgust and walked away. What kind of primitive place was this, anyway?

Before she had gone far she whirled around at angry voices, and found herself surrounded by villagers shouting in a strange dialect that she understood only somewhat. They were smallish men and women in dark homespun and animal hides, plus several children and dogs gathering around. The adults held torches to the sky and screamed, "Kill the witch, burn the evil sorceress!"

Corinna’s heart lurched in fear, but then she became suddenly angry with their insolence, and yelled at the mob, "I’m no witch! I am an American! I’m lost here! What is this awful place?"

With vacant expressions on their faces, the villagers held back for a moment as if trying to fathom her words. Some peered at her with round eyes and fearful expressions.

"Do ye think she be one of those evil witches from the Gloucester coven?" asked a young man of his mother. They all gaped and considered this possibility. Before Corinna could lift her hand for the dagger, they snatched her, roughly yanked her hands behind her back and bound them tightly with a leather thong. "Throw this terrible witch in the stockade, and post a guard until we can wake Cullen," instructed the man called Tud. His woman eyed the cross on the chain greedily, but then appeared to think better of it, lest she be hexed by touching a possession of the witch.

Corinna sat upon a pile of musty straw in a smelly hut with baked mud walls, no windows, and a thick, barred door. She heard pigs grunting from nearby and presently she heard the guard outside talking with a comrade. "’Twill take some work to wake Cullen, he was sotty drunk after supper. Then, the fat fool may declare a trial must be held. I say hang the devil’s handmaiden and be done!"

Terrified as she was, Corinna couldn’t help a wry thought. She had worried they would decide to burn her at the stake, but it seemed hanging instead was how these particular folk preferred to do away with witches. Wasn’t so bad after all.

Her eyes adjusted, allowing some vision in the torchlight winking through the cracks. She jerked her gaze toward a rustling sound in a dark corner, and shrieked, jumping to her feet and kicking. The rat scurried out the crack below the door. Shivering in a damp chill and fighting to stay calm, she thought fervently, Emery, you had better get me out of this one, and don’t be slow about it, either. But...what if such were not in his powers? Did he really possess some sort of magic powers?

She could hear raised voices in the distance. They seemed to be arguing. One loud male voice shouted that he was the chieftain and his word was law, there would be a trial.

Shortly after that the frenzied cries of the mob, by now mostly women, seemed to be overwhelming the chieftain. Corinna’s heart leapt in terror when she heard a hundred running footsteps coming toward her cell, followed by raucous shouts. "Hang the woman! End her evil witchery with the cord of justice!"

Two men opened the door, took each of her arms and roughly led her out toward the trees. Another had a thick hemp thrown over his shoulder and the noisy villagers followed them.

They stopped at the bottom of a giant oak whose limbs outspread, and Corinna shuddered when one of her captors flung the hanging coil up and over a sturdy branch. She gulped in air and steadied her shaking body and her eyes darted to the big hands clamped on her arms. She wouldn’t go without a fight. She thought, bite down hard and try to run away... If she could reach the woods...

In the next instant, a looming figure in a gray cloak with a hood shadowing his face stepped lightly from the thicket. It was a man, judging by the sinewy, strong hands, and he was taller than any of the village folk. He spoke to the man holding her, and the crowd behind them fell silent. Corinna could not understand the language he spoke, but his voice was rich and held a quiet authority. The two men relaxed their grip slightly. The tall man reached slowly to grasp the dagger around her neck and lifted it up to look.

Aided by the flickering torchlight, she could see only his eyes and she found them compassionate, and somehow...familiar. He gently unclasped the dagger’s gold sheath and she drew back, fearing that he meant to do her in before the hangman had a chance.

He then spoke in a low voice, a heavily Gaelic accented English, "Odd thing aboot this little dirk, if ye were wearin’ it, ye can’t ever be hurt of it. Surely may hurt others, though."

Quicker than lightening he struck first one of her captors, then the other, and they staggered backward clutching their arms. She was free!

The man in the cloak pulled Corinna toward the woods crying, "Run as ye never have!"

She did not need his urging, the incensed cries flaring behind them as was incentive enough as they plunged headlong through the underbrush into darkness. Branches tore at her dress, briars sliced her arms and legs, but she scarcely noticed, struggling only to stay close on her savior’s heels. They reached a shadowed ravine, and he lifted her into it. They stumbled as they ran along the bottom, blindly reaching out to feel their way along the rocky walls. The man pulled her up from the shallow end of the ravine and they made their way into a secluded grove of pines, where the moonlight shone in small pools on the grass. There were no longer any sounds from their pursuers. Corinna prayed she was correct in assuming they had outrun them.

The man took up her bound hands, and cleanly sliced the heavy thongs, only nicking her wrists slightly. She turned to pour out her emphatic thanks as he handed her back the dagger. She replaced it in its sheath, looked up and saw that he was hurrying away in that cat like stride

with which he had come to her rescue. "Wait!" she cried, "Who are you? I’m still lost! Where should I go?"

Without turning he pointed to the left and said, "Walk three hundred paces, there. See you the campfire? The lord King and his hunting band be encamped in yon pavilions." And with that, he vanished into the black trees, leaving Corinna to wonder whom her protector was, and why he chose to help her. She was fairly certain of one thing, that she had gone to another time, that she was far from the twentieth century.

King Beldaran Ap Lucius, Lord of Somersea, had finished a sizable flacon of ale before retiring, and it was no easy task when Aleric, the hunt leader, tried to rouse him. The king eventually pushed the tent flap aside, drew his fur mantle over his half naked torso, and squinted into the firelight. He saw a woman standing there uncertainly. She was covered with scratches, her gown badly ripped and soiled, and her long dark hair wild and tangled.

"She came out of the woods in the condition you see," explained Aleric, "She asked for you, sire."

Beldaran’s bleary vision adjusted as he beheld the beauty before him. Her dress was torn enough to reveal a fair shoulder and a long, lovely throat. Unless they were stolen, the silver and precious gemstones indicated she was of nobility.

Corinna gazed back at the king, and remembered that one coming before royalty was supposed to curtsey. She would be expected to address the king as "My lord", something she would never have done had she not been in dire circumstances, but this was no time to haggle over women’s equality. "My lord," she began, trying clumsily to courtesy and quickly abandoning the idea, "I was told you could help me. You see, I do not know where I am. I know where I came from, but...I was captured by some people in a village near the coast. They were going to hang me as a witch. I escaped through the forest. I am not a witch, my name is Corinna..."

She blinked before the king’s piercing gaze. She realized then what she had best say, and added quickly, "I come from a noble family across the ocean. I was a...scribe...of great importance, and I became lost after being thrown here by the sea."

Beldaran studied her for a moment and said, rather doubtfully, "A woman scribe is quite rare, I do think. Where is it ye come from, Lady Corinna?"

"America," she answered tentatively, knowing even as she said it that the country did not yet exist.

The king continued, unruffled, "Were there other survivors of your ship?" She shook her head and was spared answering the rest of his questions. The king stated, "You are fortunate, lady, to have survived. You have landed at Somersea, kingship of Beldaran. I am he."

Corinna gasped. She had glanced past him and saw the torches bobbing in the wooded darkness beyond the tents. The quiet camp was suddenly, rudely invaded as the shrieking band of villagers burst from the forest. They had traced their quarry by the broken twigs and crushed growth in the trees and now they defied even the king’s men as they crowded toward her, demanding "an end to the witch."

Cullen, leading the pack, had snatched her by the arm when he recognized the man beside her. "It is the King! Our lord Beldaran!" he exclaimed as he fell swiftly to his knees, and the other villagers did as well. "Rise up, man, and explain this intrusion on our encampment!" the King demanded.

"Forgive us, my liege," Cullen exclaimed, "but, we would have this woman, the evil demon that she is. My village folk demand she be hung by the noose."

The King stood as firm as a giant oak, and slowly stroked his short beard. His eyes were thoughtful for a time, then he spoke, "A witch, ye say? Listen to me. I contend this woman is not a witch."

The mob howled at this pronounced decision, and cries arose, "Give us the devil’s handmaiden! Put an end to the evil that will strike us down!"

The King stepped in front of Corinna, but his face was troubled. She realized that his hunting party consisted of only a few armed men to protect the noblemen and squires. This crowd was armed and determined to complete their mission. They were shouting that even the King must not stand in the way of justice.

She thought, by his the look on his face, Beldaran does not want to have to use force against these people, not if he can help it.

The King cleared his throat and his voice boomed over everyone’s, "What? Would ye have me hand over my intended bride to be executed without a trial in my court?"

Cullen and his tribe stared at Corinna and the king, and Beldaran’s own party stared as well. Corinne was astounded, but kept quiet. "Yer bride?" Cullen asked.

"Yes, this is my betrothed, come across the seas from Amorica, for our marriage. She was in misfortune shipwrecked on your shore, and is certainly no witch. Why, she is to be my queen! Go back to your homes and your children." He smiled benevolently, "The deer we have slain in your forest will be my gift to ye all for a great feasting. Farewell, my good folk."

With that, he led a confused Corinna into his pavilion and closed the flap. In a few minutes, he peered out and questioned Aleric.

"All gone away, sire," the hunt leader replied, obviously relieved.

"That was indeed quick thinking of you, sire. A half-truth or two didn’t hurt a thing, and it saved the lady from certain death."

"Well, thanks be to God for that," Beldaran replied, "what with the Dunstone villagers and their old beliefs! Some of them claim ancestry back to Jeremiah, and they are fiercely pious."

He studied the sky a moment and said, "I think we should break camp now. Have the caravan loaded and deliver the deer to Dunstone. Then we shall make for Falconaire."

The April air blew a little brisk, and noting that she shivered, the King covered Corinna’s bare shoulders with a doeskin cape. They brought her a dun colored mare and one of the men helped her aboard. The party rode out of the forest and into a low-lying meadow filled with yellow flowers and dotted with glistening black rocks. The sun rose as they topped a long hill, and, exhausted though she was, Corinna gazed in awe at the glorious fan of pink and gold fire spreading above the deep green woods and shimmering on the marsh waters.

"Briton is a beautiful land in the spring," the King said as he rode beside her on a gray stallion, "I hope you will find it to your liking, my lady."

Corinna smiled and said, "I like it already." A kind of peaceful awe came over her, knowing she was in ancient England, and that they were bound for a safe fortress. She wanted to ask where exactly in the country they were, and most of all, what year? But, she supposed the King would never understand that she had come from another time. The villager’s accusations of witchcraft might suddenly seem more appropriate to Beldaran if she tried to convince him of something so uncanny.

She noticed his surcoat bore a red cross on the fine gray wool, as did his small, shoulder hung shield. This symbol must mean that he was of Christian faith. As they rode, King talked about the forests surrounding the valley, and his hunting. He sat tall and straight in the saddle, surrounded on three sides by his men-at-arms. Corinna couldn’t help notice that his piercing blue gaze fell often upon her face. He was a middle-aged, handsome man, his beard and russet hair beginning to gray, and he had a weathered, tanned face, no doubt a result of years spent on campaigns and the battlefields.

Perhaps this was the era she had been so closely researching. Was it possible? Was this Emery’s strange way of helping in her endeavor? If so, she would bravely make the most of it, but she fervently hoped this tumultuous country had found peacetime as of now.

The caravan stopped in a sun dappled clearing to "break the fast," one man said. From the wooden-wheeled wagon came two young squires carrying small loaves of bread, a honey pot and a wooden bowl full of some food that looked like beef jerky. There were golden wheat sconces in a straw basket. One of the boys spread tanned oxen hides about for the royal party to sit and eat upon. Corinna separated her honeyed bread and took a piece of cheese. When her hunger was satisfied, she accepted the king’s offer of a silver cup. She sipped only a little because it tasted like hard apple cider. "Thank you. It’s very good," she said.

"My sister, the Lady Rhian, has a secret recipe for the best apple wine in Briton," Beldaran smiled in response. "From myself and she, ye are most welcomed at Falconaire."

"Thank you, my lord." Falconaire, the stone fortress, was claimed by historians to have been the site that became Falcon’s Rest castle in later medieval times. She had seen that information on a plaque at the ruins she had visited only last evening. Was it such a short a time ago? Her pulse quickened with anticipation that she would be seeing Caer Falconaire in its original glory, not as a ruin. Again she said a silent thank you to Emery.

While they rode through a forested area, Beldaran spoke of his battles, and how he had been fortunate to spend the last several years at home with his son, his sister and other kin. He was not pompous or callous at all, Corinna found, but likable, and he spoke with a grave intellect sparked now and then with wry humor.

Beldaran said a declaration by the High King was enforced upon the warlords, a new code that taught "might doth not equal right, but if we are to prosper, justice and peace for all must prevail." He smiled wryly, a twinkle in his eye, "This code of chivalry was likewise met with howls and curses, and of course, some had to be subdued in the old manner." He explained that in many ways he had forged his ruling after King Arthur Pendragon. Like many of Briton’s kings, Beldaran fought alongside Arthur against the invading Saxon horde at Badon. Like his father before him, who marched in command of Roman legionnaires, he had been rewarded for his loyalty with this realm and the forces to keep it prosperous and peaceful.

He told her these lands were rich with good timber and ore mines, the soil would produce crops, and the river valley beyond the forest provided a fertile grassland for the raising of cattle and sheep. Somersea was far flung on the western coast near the channel, and therefore not as protected by the High King’s forces, but his son Allwyn maintained a mounted battalion of his own. The king spoke of his son, trained by Beldaran’s own captain-at-arms; how by sixteen years of age he was a skilled swordsman. "At eighteen summers my prince was leading the cavalry, and at twenty-one he was knighted in Arthur’s church at Caerleon. Allwyn has since been the greatest protector Somersea ever knew," he finished proudly.

"Do you have a daughter, as well," Corinna inquired.

"Alas, I do not." Beldaran fell silent, and she thought his eyes seemed sad and far away.

A while later, Aleric came to the king on horseback and announced, "There comes a rider, fast approaching beyond the fen."

"Rein in!" called the king, and they waited as the hoofbeats thudded nearer.

One of the noblemen pointed and said, "’Tis your own scout, sire!"

"Daren!" the king greeted the young man who nearly fell from his horse. The rider’s face and clothing were filthy with dirt and blood, his leather arm guards bore slashes all across, and his battered shield hung crookedly from the saddle.

"My liege!" the scout gasped out, "there is trouble at the Northern Valley! The Prince and his warriors are engaged in battle since yesterday morn, and the enemy invaders far outnumber us! We drove them back, but then we were surrounded when more came from the trees on all sides! Your son and his men are trapped on the hill!"

"Damne! I have feared he would fight too boldly!" Beldaran growled to Aleric, "He has not a care for his own life... But I will not lose him, nor the warriors either!"

In early spring, Beldaran had been away several weeks helping secure the Eastern border trade, and had sent his knights home to their fiefdoms. He had thought peace reigned in his kingdom, and now regretted that he had taken a few days to hunt with his friends. With a sudden sharp pain he had almost forgotten, he recalled another time he left on a sporting hunt while his loved ones faced peril.

The king’s face turned hard. He shouted, "Toby, take the swiftest horse, the chestnut of Duke Rhys! Ride swift as you may to Falconaire and have all men excepting the guards armed to ride for battle. We will come quickly."

The young man who had helped serve the morning meal flung himself on the Duke’s horse and tore away. Briefly Corinna wondered what the king’s son was like; did he look like his father? Was he as pleasant to talk with? She found herself hoping the prince would survive this battle, even though she hadn’t yet met him.

King Beldaran gave orders to the wagon drivers to follow as best they could, then he turned to Corinna and the noblemen, "We shall ride for home as fast as these steeds will run. Every man is needed to save Allwyn and his calvary, and I pray we will not be too late!"

Chapter 4

"Hold tightly," the King said to Corinna as he tethered her horse’s lead rein to his own saddle. The entire party except for the wagons ran at full gallop for several miles over grassy terrain and finally burst from a wooded trail. The bright blue sea sparkled in the sun, and a long hill rose ahead. The castle, sitting atop it among the bluish haze, looked like a scene in the beautiful old paintings at the chalet. The structure rose against the sky, surrounded by water, a high, proud stronghold. They rode past fields where teams of burly oxen dragged crude plows, and they skirted around a rock-walled village, and then, drawing closer, Corinna saw the blue banner flying from the massive tower of Falconaire.

They clattered across the planking bridge above a flooded causeway where a branch of the river had been diverted, and cantered past the cliffs, up to the arching main entrance. The king bellowed for the iron gates to be opened, and several men ran out to assist his entourage. He led Corinna’s horse across a laid stone courtyard with fountains and huge firepits. He said, "Until I return, Lady Corinna," and left her in the care of a servant girl.

"Come with me if it please thee, lady," the girl said with a small bow. Corinna followed and was swept into a large timbered room which appeared to be the great hall. The stones were scrubbed a sand pink, rich tapestries lined the walls, and rushes had been strewn on the rough tile floors. Men ran all about the courtyard. Squires helped the knights into armor, and out brought lances, swords and horses. A priest blessed the fighting men, and their wives and hounds stood watching them go. Beldaran rushed past Corinna. He began talking excitedly to a tall, handsome

woman in a blue and silver gown, then he made a quick introduction, "My kinswoman, this is Lady Corinna of Amorica. Lady, this is Rhian, my sister, our matron of Falconaire."

The king turned to go, and his long sword swung out and knocked over a pottery urn. He called back to his sister, "Give our guest every hospitality and comfort. We shan’t be away long."

With that, the king mounted his stallion swiftly and he and his warriors galloped away in a clamor of hooves, armor clanking against their shields and a horn booming. The hounds were left to howl forlornly after them.

The first thing Rhian did was to summon two women to draw Corinna a bath, then the matron of the Castle came to the guest chamber with her arms full of gowns and undergarments. She chuckled, "I am taller than you, but my seamstresses may hem them. My brother told me about your unfortunate meeting with the Dunstone villagers." She sighed, "I am afraid they are an isolated people by their own choosing, clinging to old beliefs and superstitions from centuries ago. They fear what they don’t understand. I trust you will have a nice bath, you poor girl. I shall go and find you a pair of sandals or something." Rhian handed a cloth and scented soap to the servant girl, "Terra will wash you."

"Thank you, ma’am," Corinna demurred as she lay her pendant carefully on a bench draped with velvet, "but, where I come from, I am accustomed to washing myself."

Rhian looked at her curiously and Corinna realized she had slipped. A noblewoman would have women fussing over her from birth to the grave. But the lady of the castle dismissed it, perhaps as a difference of cultures.. "Very well. The linens for drying are there. When you have finished, I shall have Gwenith prepare a trencher. Oh, and the chamber commode is behind those curtains in the corner, and the nearest privy is down the seaside steps, on the outer wall."

The what? Corinna thought for a moment and grinned to herself, what are you thinking? Of course, indoor plumbing hasn’t been invented yet. Alone in the candlelit room, she undressed, went to the large wooden tub and sank her body in the warm, scented water. She looked up at the heavy beams across the white washed ceiling and the carved four post bed laden with a fat goosedown comforter and embroidered coverlets. Much of the castle seemed crude, as well it should since the rough stone walls were built for fortification, not beauty. But this guest chamber, while Spartan compared to even her tiny apartment, did boast some luxuries. The seamstresses must be skilled, she thought. All the linens were beautiful, and the bench covers were detailed with needlework and golden floss. A pitcher and basin made of decorated baked clay stood on the table, a carved chest sat near the bed, and an oval mirror rested in a gilded wood stand beside the door. The iron barred windows were draped with colorful woven tapestries. It wasn’t the Waldorf, but, tired as she was it seemed comfortable enough. Best of all, it was probably the safest place for her, considering.

Corinna could scarcely keep her eyes open after bathing. She finished drying, and put on the wispy linen undergarments from the pile of clothing. Next lay a saffron yellow gown with rich green braid trimming at the neck and sleeves. She found it impossible to lace herself into the intricate dress, and so when Terra popped through the door offering her services, Corinna laughed and admitted she could not do it alone. "I may call for your help, later, thank you, Terra." She picked up a small bag of sweet smelling brown buds, "what are these?"

"Cloves, m’lady. You know, for freshening the breath."

"Oh, O.K. In absence of toothpaste, I suppose this will have to do." The girl looked at her, but then whisked out the door without comment.

You are a spoiled creature, Corinna said to herself. Let’s see just how self-reliant you are, how well you can adapt in a time where everything isn’t instant ease. Besides, even if this adventure were reality, not a dream...think of how much she could learn for her manuscript. She took a cape from a wall peg, threw it over the chemise and made for the privy. Terra appeared from an alcove to show her the way. Corinna again chuckled at herself for flinching at the cold stone seat of the drafty outdoor toilet. Spoiled by those modern luxuries, taken for granted. this will be a good lesson for you, she told herself.

Back inside her chamber Terra inquired, "Shall I help you dress? Lady Rhian wished to know if you will sup at her table in the hall?"

Corinna hoped she wouldn’t seem aloof by declining, but she had her exhausted eyes on the high, down filled bed across the room. "Tell the Lady I apologize, but I will not be dining tonight. I am very tired."

"Of course, m’lady." the girl replied, dipped, and left the room.

Corinna sank into the pillowy bed, and wondered if the King and his son had won the battle. She knew she should worry about the implications if they did not, but strangely, she felt at peace. She pulled the coverlet up to her chin and suddenly wondered if she would see the dark-haired warrior in her dreams tonight. She soon fell into the deep sleep her tired body craved, and did not wake until late morning.

The noon meal consisted of a bland mutton stew, barley cakes and honeyed apples. Lady Rhian had remained a calm bastion in a sea of anxiety. Now she stood and regally addressed the tables of noblewomen and captain’s wives. She raised her cup of golden mead and said, "Good people, keep the faith. God will grant our valiant men a victory and a safe return."

The women murmured short prayers, then made a toast to their king and his sister. Corinna nodded and lifted her cup of apple juice. She had gotten to know more about the Lady of Falconaire earlier in the day when they strolled along the seaside ramparts and talked at length. Rhian spoke of how her husband, a Roman shipmaster, was lost at sea leaving her a young widow, and how, when Beldaran’s wife, Queen Fiona, had been killed by a raiding party, she left her villa in the city of Lundein to live here and help her brother. She performed all the duties of a queen in the absence of one, but she was also a strong individual.

Rhian laughed when she spoke of how she shocked the men by riding astride a horse instead of side saddle, and wearing trousers and leather shirts when she hunted with her falcon or a hound. She could read and write Latin and do grand needlework, yet proved to be a skillful archer with the small crossbow, and a horsewoman of their equal. Now, she was respected as a royal lady who was both comely and intelligent.

Corinna said to her, "I sense that you have a serene outlook and a strong character, much like my aunt Adele, who raised me from a small child. I admire someone like you very much."

"Why, thank you," Rhian smiled warmly. "You are different, Lady Corinna, but I think you also are strong and wise."

They walked outside in the neat gardens that Rhian had planted much of herself, and they picked fresh flowers for the tables. The larks sang in the fields beside the river, heralding the first warm days of spring, and the foliage was a beautiful bright green as far as the eye could see.

"The flowers not used for the rooms can be dried and used for scenting sachets, soaps, and necklace pouches," Rhian explained. She paused to look out over the river, and spoke softly, "So lovely here, and safe from the harshness of the world, yet... A few miles northward there rages a terrible battle and the men this land depends on are in danger. But, there is no battle leader alive, save perhaps King Arthur’s Lancelot, more fierce and brave than Prince Allwyn. And, my brother the King is an old warrior, tough as the steel from which his sword was forged."

Rhian seemed to be reassuring herself. She paused to replace a scattered mound of dirt around a pear tree sapling, and said, "Before Arthur established a seat of power at Caerleon, constant war and plunder was the way of life. Our people have called the last quarter century, The time of lasting peace. For most of the land, it is so."

Corinna’s head was spinning. Arthur...Caerleon...

"Uh...Lady Rhian, have you ever been to Caerleon?" she queried.

"Why, yes, on several occasions. There are the tournaments and feasts at Easter and Midsummer’s Eve, and Michelmas in winter. To these feasts, my brother and his family have invite by the High King himself." She smiled proudly, "My nephew, Prince Allwyn, proved himself so well in battle, that Lancelot taught him jousting on the tourney field. Later, Allwyn asked that Lancelot be the one to knight him, and so it was."

They carried the flowers and herbs inside, and Corinna was thinking how she would dearly love to see Caerleon, or Camelot, Emery said it was. But apparently it was a long journey away.

When Corinna expressed interest in the layout of the castle, Rhian took her on a tour. They began at the bustling, large kitchen with kettles on three smoky hearths, then went through the long stables and the armory, the mill house, the granary, and ended with a visit to the village chapel that bore a large white cross over the door. Inside, Rhian lit a candle for the men away at battle and said a prayer. A nun blessed them as they departed. Later, in the sewing room, Corinna received her first spinning lesson at the wheel. It proved to be an interesting experience, to say

the least.

"I’m better at hand needlework," she smiled apologetically while trying to help Rhian untangle the skein she had made such a mess of. "My mother taught me sewing when I was very young, and I have always mended my clothes."

"Then we shall make good use of your skills, for the children’s and men’s clothes often need repair, just as one would think," Rhain smiled back.

Rhian took Corinna past the crafter’s huts to see them dipping wicks in hot tallow, and the men working with leather goods and silver and weaponry metals. One young woman at a loom was weaving a bright plaid Tartan, at which Corinna exclaimed over the beauty of the yarns. Rhian explained, "That is my gift to Telyn, my dear cousin. His father was a powerful Scottish laird, his mother an aunt of Beldaran’s, He is next heir in the royal line after Prince Allwyn." She smiled proudly and explained, "Our family heritage ‘tis of many lands, but we have all embraced Christianity, no one more closely than King Beldaran himself."

It was late afternoon when Corinna put down her sewing and walked alone in the gardens, admiring Beldaran’s heirloom Roman sundial. Rhian had told her that years ago the sculpture, two centuries old, was transported by ship from his grandmother’s villa.

Suddenly a squire came rushing by, breathlessly shouting the news as he ran, "The battle is over, the enemy retreated! The King and his son were wounded, and they shall be arriving by sunset..."

Corinna hurried inside to find Rhian.

"It was the raiding leader they call the Black Marauder, I’m sure of it," the weary, wounded king said to the assembled council in his main hall. The knights and lords scowled and grumbled to each other that the mysterious, wily invader must be captured and his warriors disbanded.

The following day after riding out, they had returned, or most of them. Some fallen soldier’s bodies were left in the ashes of a funeral pyre at the Northern Valley, and weeping laments could be heard drifting from outer dwellings. Corinna felt the sadness weighing heavily as she left the battlements which were shrouded in a fog so thick that the castle seemed a hulking shadow. She heard the noise coming from the main hall, and decided to return to the fireside table in the adjoining women’s hall.

Gwenith brought her a bowl of venison stew and a cup of mulled wine. Rhian, wearing an emerald satin gown, came walking in serenely and asked a serving boy to fill the cups again. She smiled and addressed the ladies, "Bless this house and praise God for the safe return of our King and Prince, as well as the brave knights and soldiers of Somersea. Here’s to other victories against the black marauders!" They lifted their cups and joined in the toast.

Corinna sipped the warm wine slowly and contentedly watched the flames dance, her elbows propped on the oaken table near the hearth. She heard pieces of the men’s conversation wafting from the main hall to her left. Suddenly there was a stir among them. She glanced through the archway and saw the door to the courtyard open, allowing a swirl of smoke-like fog to enter the room. Out of that mist and evening twilight stepped a man. Corinna stared and almost dropped her cup of wine.

"Ho, Defender! We thought you would remain in your chamber yet another day. It is good to see our bold Prince up and about!" cried one of the knights seated near King Beldaran. Another man, a captain of horse, inquired, "How fares the wounded part?

"I was merely unhorsed, ‘twas nothing injurious." the man’s quietly resonant voice replied.

"I see my son knows not playful banter when he hears it!" The king chuckled, "his pride makes him act as if he is the only one to ever fall from a horse on his kettle! Some say a Brit fights his best after being knocked on his arse!"

The rest of the men responded with uproarious laughter. The prince inquired with concern, "How is your wound, father?"

Beldarn scoffed, "This? ‘Tis but a scratch! A Silurian devil with a battle ax thought his aim was good, but I was quick on my toes. I have not survived ten great battles for naught. I tell you, Sir Allwyn, there be a few good years left in this old warrior yet," the king chuckled.

Allwyn said, "Aye, father, and you certainly proved it our hour of need. Fortunately, for my calvarymen and I!"

Corinna leaned forward to have a closer look through the doorway, and caught in her breath. Now, there, at last, was a man who could interest her! The young warrior striding easily toward the king’s table looked to be near her own age, maybe a little older. He was tall with a slender yet muscular physique that allowed him to move gracefully. His dark hair, lit with copper highlights was tossed back carelessly and fell in waving locks atop his broad shoulders. His handsome, yet boyishly sculpted face had the look of aristocracy. She was intrigued by his sensuous, full mouth, and she noticed a fresh scar on his sun-bronzed arm.

Staring spellbound she realized, why, he is the warrior I dreamed about before! The man in the strange visions! Can it be...? Corinna had scoffed at her own dreams, knowing that meeting such a man was not possible. But, there he stood, clothed in a deep blue tunic, his trim waist circled by a silver studded sword belt and scabbard. The symbol of the falcon’s head was embroidered in gold on the chest, and he wore tight black trousers that hugged his well proportioned long legs. His eyes, under full arching brows were dark as onyx, and brooding. He wore a thin, silver torc around his tawny neck. She remembered in the dream the touch of his long bronze hands, and she found herself shaking inside.

How could I have known? Why would I have dreamed of this man?! Corinna swallowed hard, tried to catch her breath and turned her gaze back to the fire. Feeling flushed, she glanced around, hoping none of her dinner companions had noticed her staring unabashedly at the Prince. He had not noticed her, and thankfully, Rhian was chatting with wives of the knights about dyed cloth they had acquired on an excursion to the cities. Through the smoky candlelight, Corinna watched the prince accept a chair next to his father. She could see little resemblance between them. Allwyn must favor his mother’s side of the family, she thought. Rhian had told her the king was descended from a high ranking Roman general. Two hundred years before, near the end of the occupation of Briton, the Roman aristocrat’s sons had mixed the bloodline with the Cymry and the Celts. Rhian had spoken of how Beldaran, when a young nobleman, had married a dark haired, beautiful princess from Eire, the daughter of a Celtic queen. That could explain the son’s darkly enchanting looks.

Corinna was hardly able to keep her gaze from straying back to the other room. She felt almost giddy by the time she rose from the dinner table. She scolded herself, you’re not some fanciful schoolgirl, but a woman who is thought to be dignified nobility, so act like it! Of course, the wine was heady and warm, she supposed it could have affected her mood somewhat. That was no excuse, she knew. It was the effect of that young warrior, and she willed herself to forget she had even seen him as she busied herself helping the women.

"Lady Rhian extends her invitation to you for going hawking, M’lady. ‘Tis a lovely morn, M’lady, and I shall accompany you. Shall I tell her you will come?"

Before Corinna could blink the sleep from her eyes to reply, Terra handed her a plain brown wool gown and cape for riding. She dressed, and Terra took her to Rhian and a half dozen noblewomen and their attending ladies who were gathered at the gate. The king’s sister came from behind the cart that was loaded with willow cages of falcons, greeting her with a smile. Some were bedecked in dyed gowns and elaborate head dressings. Rhian wore a serviceable gray habit with split legs, a design of her own, and leather riding gloves and boots. "It is a wonderful day for an outing, don’t you agree, Lady Corinna? Have you ever hunted with hawks?"

"No. I haven’t. But I thought I would enjoy watching."

The stable boys led out several horses and helped the women up, but Corinna swung herself onto a sturdy mare. Terra’s father, Ahern, the seneschal of Falconaire, was accompanying them to handle the birds. The group left the gates and the ladies were chatting and laughing among themselves merrily when they trotted past the village. As they rode over a sweeping hill and from view of Falconaire, Corinna glanced around at the deep, dark woods on either side of the sun drenched meadows, feeling somehow apprehensive. She attributed this sense of foreboding to her being in new, strange surroundings, and rode ahead looking forward to the day’s adventure.

The party halted among a large oak grove where the cries of quail and dove drifted from the branches above. Ahern had brought out only one lady’s favorite Merlin, when he looked up and swore mildly. Corinna saw, as did everyone, that a band of horsemen were coming from the same way they had traveled, and she drew in a deep breath as she recognized the leader, sitting tall and straight aboard his black stallion.

Rhian said sheepishly, "Ach! It is Allwyn, and he will be rankled at me for not taking his armed men to escort us." She smiled conspiritorily at Corinna, "Perhaps we can soothe his anger if we use our most honeyed charms."

Corinna had doubts about even that working when she saw the dark face of the Prince. He dismounted and stood with his long legs planted apart on the grass, oblivious, it seemed, to the admiring glances and flirtatious greetings of several ladies. He stared straight at Corinna and she was giddy inside but she met his gaze unwaveringly, then he glowered at Rhian and his voice was edged with much more than concern when he grated. "What is the meaning of this?! Women riding blithely out in the wild with naught but an old man for protection! After you have promised me..."

Rhian curtsied low to him and said sweetly, "Forgive me, my dear nephew. It was such a glorious day, and I gave no thought that any harm could befall us only a few kilometers from home. Look you at the lovely Lady Corinna. See how the fresh air has touched her cheeks with soft pink and colored her lips like new berries." Rhian paused and was pleased to see that Allwyn was indeed looking at Corinna, with eyes that could not quite disguise how he fancied her.

The king’s sister went on, "I could not have allowed our guest to remain in the confines of the fortress and turn pallid and wan. This outing is good beyond measure for her, and the rest of us as well after the long winter. If it ease your mind, my valorous kinsman, we shall now ride in closer to Falconaire."

Allwyn silently swung aboard his stallion, and he and his men rode about the party in a circle of protection. The carefree air of the day was lost, Corinna realized, although she did not mind at all the view just to her right. The prince wore an open leather tunic studded with silver grommets and snug breeches tucked into tall, dark boots. His glossed dark locks were tied back, falling between his broad shoulders. He rode easily as if one with his mount. From time to time she saw him glance her way.

Damn, her pulse was doing funny things, and she was relieved when he rode on.

He never once spoke until Rhian and the ladies dismounted in the trees near a glen, where he got down as well. "My men shall hold the horses," he said. "Send your hawks up, but stay within sight of us."

The sporting huntresses lifted their elaborate skirts and walked sedately behind Ahern and his cart. Corinna had started to follow when a soft, deep voice close beside her commanded, "Stay but a moment, lady. I would inquire of your health, since it seems you survived a harrowing shipwreck three nights hence in the storm?"

Storm? Corinna managed a polite nod, keeping her gaze downward as a demure noblewoman should, she supposed. "Yes, sir. My health is fine, thank you." She did not look up, but she was very much aware of his masculine presence beside her. He smelled of newly oiled leather and horses, and his steps were long and light. She glanced at him and their gazes met, but she cast her eyes down again quickly, thinking never had she seen a man’s face and eyes so beautifully dark and intense.

"I heard what happened at the village of Dunstone. You were a fortunate lady to escape and find the hunting camp."

"Yes, I was," she said with a wry face, "I don’t much care for their brand of hospitality."

"My father is quite taken with you, it seems." She could feel his eyes on her as he queried, " "When do you plan to return to your homeland?"

Corinna felt apprehension building inside her, and struggled for a clever reply. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks when a young warrior quickly reigned up in front of Allwyn.

"My liege, we scouted the forest as you ordered, and found fresh tracks and droppings. By all the trampled brush, there must have been several mounted men! I also found this..." He handed his lord a broken bronze spur.

Allwyn muttered a low curse and immediately sent some men to see the ladies were brought back. "I knew it, Gavin," he said to the lad carrying his shield. "No one is safe if again they forage these hills."

"Sir, you think it was him?" Gavin’s face went gravely serious.

Allwyn’s face was a cold mask and his jaw worked grimly. He glanced toward Corinna and lowered his voice, but she heard his reply. "I shall take no chances, whether or no. Give the word, all are to ride with us to Falconaire, post haste."

Corinna heard bits of a brief argument between Rhian and her stern nephew, then the king’s sister seemed to give in to reason and mounted her horse, as did the other ladies. Ahern called in the birds, staying behind to cage them. The hunt of the hawks was ended for today.

Cooling winds at dusk swept through the high grass and across the promentory that rose above the deep forest. Two riders, one in dark body mail and heavily weaponed, one in a grand velvet robe and cape emblazoned with a golden cross, came together at the highest point of the rise. Falconaire lay in view, not far, a majestic dark bulk with high towers reaching against the fiery western sky.

The man in dark mail spoke, "I haven’t much time, brother. The king expects me at council soon after supper, where I shall fawn and pretend to be in complete alliance with the old fool. So, holy man, have you gotten enough gold to enlist and bring the warriors from Eire?"

The heavier, velvet arraigned man smiled a cold, cunning smile. ""I have. They sail tomorrow. I will see about three hundred men and a hundred horses land in the cove in four days, where I shall make sure they are garrisoned in my "church." He put a satiric emphasis on the last word, and the two broke into laughter.

"You have done well," the man in dark mail said, "but we must gather thrice that number before our plan can come to fruition."

"Truthfully spoken, brother, and we shall. The coffers grow daily from the secret raids and robberies where our forces are so skilled, and I have heard there are mercenary fighters for the hiring in Gaul. Soon, very soon, we shall be in control and hold all the power we need to rule this land. Now, let us be away before some zealous guard hears voices and seeks the source."

"Aye," the dark-mailed rider replied, "and I should have to kill him, which comes easy. Yet tonight, I have not the taste for it."

The other’s voice went coldly mocking, "It is that golden-haired, haughty woman who softens you. But, be that as it may, you will retain the taste for killing quickly enough, my ambitious kin, "the velvet clad man smiled. "‘Til next we meet, my king-apparent."

They clasped each the other’s upraised hand vigorously, and parted, spurring their horses in different directions to vanish in the black forest.

That evening after the meal, Corinna grew bored sitting on the hard bench and decided to make herself useful. She began helping the servants pick up the platters and trenchers, ignoring how some of the ladies looked at her rather strangely when she wiped off the tables. Corinna felt a defiant amusement at their reaction to her, but reflected that she was sensible having claimed to be nobility. Here nobles controlled everything and everyone. Who knew what might have happened if she told them she was a farmer’s daughter. Her mouth quirked with wry amusement. She might have found herself performing the duties of a milk maid, and that would have been a tough role to pull off, given that she had never milked a cow in her life. She disliked masking the truth, but, these were times when a woman had few rights or choices. It was only a little fib, after all. There was supposed to have been an Earl of Markham in the family ancestral tree somewhere. What if she had told anyone that she had come from a future time? She might well have found herself locked in some dungeon reserved for mad persons. As it was, she could dwell safely inside the castle and enjoy the same comforts the king’s kin enjoyed.

But, where did she fit in here, and what if she did or said something wrong? She knew nothing about Amorica, its people, or even its location. Beldaran had thought that she came from "Amorica" when she mentioned America, and he let it go at that. What if someone began to question her background? I'll hate having to be on my guard all the time, she thought.

It was then she noticed Prince Allwyn standing in the shadows beyond the hall entrance, and he watched her with glowing eyes that reminded her of a predatory animal. Her heart thudded in anxiety at his look, but against her own resolve, she found herself glancing his way again. The sight of him was hard to resist, she realized as an unfamiliar, wonderful thrill ran through her. Determinedly she walked out, hurried to the kitchen and placed the trenchers on a block table next to the huge, roaring hearth.

Glancing around nervously, she noticed the women at the washing tubs looking at her, but she stubbornly set to work, scraping and scrubbing, asking politely what next needed to be done. The headmistress of the kitchen, a stout, kindly faced woman named Gwenith showed her the crude shelves and cupboards where the crockery went, and where to toss the garbage that would be taken to feed the farm pigs.

Later, Corinna meant to find Rhian and thank her for the hospitality of the past few days, but when she ventured from the kitchen, night had settled in and it seemed everyone had gone, perhaps to their quarters.

Too restless to sleep, Corinna wandered outside her chamber and up to the battlement walk. She watched the bright, winking stars in a dusky purple sky, and felt very alone. But, after being orphaned at a young age, self-reliance was something Corinna Swift had learned soon enough. I will be all right, she told herself, I am just missing home a little. I hope no one back there is worried about me. She had to believe the light would come, that she would be safely home again.

The night air soon proved to be chilly, persuading her to go inside. She was about to undress and crawl into bed, when a tap sounded at the door. She quickly re-laced her gown and opened the heavy door.

A thin, red haired young man with a harp under one arm bowed and said in a kind voice, "Forgive the intrusion, m’lady. I am Telyn Mac Adair, cousin to Lady Rhian and the King. My Lord Beldaran sends word, if it pleases the lady, he would like your company in his scriptorium. I will show the way."

Corinna found Telyn a humorous, intelligent fellow. He told her he was a scribe and a harper, as well as an aide to the King. As they went, he pointed out different areas and rooms of the castle to her, and he promised to show her the calligraphy lettering used by Briton’s scribes and holy men. She would not lie to him, but would have to rearrange the truth a bit. She had introduced herself to the king as a scribe. Now she told Telyn the wording and hand digraphs in her land were different.

"I need someone to teach me the sounds of your word beginnings, and meanings of certain expressions," she explained, "I want to learn everything about life here, so that I may record events of King Beldaran’s country. Chronicles of history, you might say. This will interest some of my people when I present it to them."

Telyn’s coppery brows rose in question. "Oh, ye will be returning home, not marrying...?" The royal scribe stopped and looked perplexed for a moment. She remembered how the king had told Cullen and his villagers that she was to be his bride. She supposed that this fib had taken on embellishment of truth as it spread. However, Telyn made no more mention of it. She realized she would have to take care in everything she said from now on.

Corinna asked him several curious questions about life here, and later thanked the likable young nobleman for escorting her to the opposite end of the keep, She watched as he trod lightly down a set of stairs leading somewhere. For an instant she thought of going back. The place was eerily quiet since most people in the castle had retired for the night. She rapped gently upon the heavy oaken door, and a moment later Beldaran opened it and bowed before her. "My lady, ye do honor me so with your presence." he said, speaking more chivalrously than before.

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, remembering protocol. "I hope your wound is getting better."

"Indeed, ‘tis, so I hardly notice it. The lady is exceedingly kind to inquire after me."

There was something in the way he looked at her that made Corinna want to be on her guard more than ever. The king graciously showed her to a chair at the table where tankards were scattered and parchment scrolls lay opened. He pushed them aside, explaining, "My knights and advisors sat with me at council only a while ago."

She noticed that two rush lamps burned, as well as a dying fire, lending a mellow glow to the heavily beamed room. There were parchment maps rolled and lying on the table and on a small side stand was a star-shaped board with carved wooden figures that looked like a chess game. A large black hound slept beside the hearth.

The king pulled the chair out for Corinna, waited for her to take her seat, and then seated himself. She drew back with a gasp at two fierce eyes glowing from a dim corner by the window, then laughed at herself, along with the king. The amber orbs belonged to a big flecked bird sitting on a perch. "’Tis only Viator, my peregrine falcon," Beldaran explained. "He often roosts here instead of the mews. He is tethered and cannot harm you."

Corinna smiled nervously and nodded.

Beldaran wore a deep blue velvet robe, belted with a length of bronze chain mesh and decorated with an elegant trim. A gem laden gold circlet sat upon his russet hair. He sat straight and tall, looking the part of royalty more so now than when they first met.

A friendly smile lit his ruggedly handsome face and he asked, "Are you enjoying your stay, my lady? Is there anything I can have brought in for you?"

"No, my lord, your people have seen to all my needs, thank you." She glanced about her at the mosaic sunburst pattern on the worn floor and the graceful design of the white pillars, noting this room was different and more elegant than the timbers and stone of the castle.

Beldaran read her admiration and smiled. "This innermost chamber is the strongest of all, and the only portion remaining of the structure that was my grandfather’s villa. It was built by a Roman Magistrate."

"It is very unique," she murmured, shifting her stance to look around her at the colorful tiles, and then, thinking that not facing him must be unmannerly, she turned back.

The way he gazed at her made her involuntarily clasp her hands together tensely. She realized then that the plunge of the gown, tailored for Rhian’s height, was cut low enough to reveal the rounded tops of her breasts. She nervously tugged at the neckline, with no results.

He said, "You are looking very well. I have watched you as you help the women, and I must say you are the most lovely lady to grace the halls of Falconaire in years."

"Thank you for your kind words, my lord...but your sister is also a beautiful lady," Corinna replied.

"You speak the truth, but she is...my sister. It is not the same," the king said, and sighed.

He then offered her a cup of wine, but she declined, and explained with wry humor that she had consumed enough for the evening. Beldaran chuckled, accepting that, and began to talk about life in his country; of the other lords who dwelt in strongholds like this one across Briton, and finally, of the loss of his wife several years ago. He concluded, "I have been missing something important in my life, more so lately, even counting all God has blessed me with. You are different from our people, but I care not. In fact, that uniqueness is quite appealing to me. I took you safely from the witch hunters of Dunstone, now I humbly ask that you allow me a favor in return."

"Certainly, Your Highness," Corinna responded, "if there is any way I can repay you for saving my life..." Quite suddenly, she realized this might be the wrong thing to say!

"There is, indeed, dear lady."

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"I wish you to become my wife and my queen."

Corinna stared, slowly rising to her feet and finding her balance. Surely he must be inebriated with the ale! She took a deep breath, and saw that his eyes were clear and very serious.

"My lord...surely you would not rush into ...you don’t know me well enough to be certain I would make a good wife...or a queen!" She was flustered and anxious to have him understand, "I...I should tell you this. I will be going home...I cannot stay for long...I mean, I... Besides, I know nothing about running a castle, let alone a country!"

"Ah," he replied, "One is not born for such things, they must be learned." He studied her a moment and said, "My dearest lady, you are worried about taking Rhian’s place, I think. Don’t concern yourself. I have spoken to her only a while ago. She swore she wished only for my happiness, and she said you were youthful but intelligent beyond your years." He rose and took a necklace from a velvet pouch. "I give you this as a token of my love, dear lady..."

"Wait! I have no dowry for you," she exclaimed, "no money or riches...A proper marriage arrangement cannot be done!" Corinna hoped this would prove to be true, and according to what she knew about the customs, it should.

The king shrugged, "I need no dowry. I make the laws here." Then he asked rather bluntly, "Are you put off by me?"

"No, certainly not, my lord." Corinna said apologetically, "I think you are very kind.'

"Do you wish to recant your offer of a favor for saving your life?" Beldaran persisted, "If so, I shall sadly accept such from the lady who has stolen my heart."

"No, I want to repay you...somehow.." Corinna had even started to feel a little guilty about her initial reaction. She knew she should feel honored by the asking of a king to be his queen.

"I must follow through with what rumors I may have started at Dunstone. If you won’t marry me, I shall be called a liar," he said with a charming grin.

He went on to assure her she would be given the freedom to do as she pleased. "I am not one of those Northern kings who secure the keep doors, shutting their queens in dim rooms to pray, sew and raise children all their days. You have seen how Lady Rhian has the privileges of any man!" He chuckled, "She changed my thinking on that matter years ago. And, Telyn says that you wish to record everything you can about our lands and our people. As our Queen, you would have complete liberty to learn as much as you wish."

He held up his hand even as she tried to decline his offer. "Oh no, dear lady, do not give me your refusal or your assent just now. We may remain a betrothed couple for a little time and perhaps you will warm to the idea. I shall send a messenger to the Bishop of Bris. He is also my friend, and he will bless us properly. In the meantime, you shall enjoy all the accouterments of a queen. I think you will want to stay." He seemed quite confident that she would become accustomed to noble life and want him as a husband.

What can I say? Corinna thought desperately, the man did save my life and he is an honorable person who needs to make his lie a truth. Anyway, don’t worry, she told herself, Emery will send the light for your return, before there can be any wedding. Watch for the light, he had said. She would hold on to that hope until she was safely home.

The king kissed her hand and took his leave, saying, "Sleep you well, my beautiful lady. Perhaps I may take you out riding on the morrow." Then, he gently placed a shining chain bearing a golden betrothal ring around her neck, kissed her cheek, and left the room.

Chapter 5

Terra appeared in the hall and walked with Corinna to her chamber. She managed a bit of cheerful conversation, but after the girl had gone to her nearby quarters, she grew restless and found herself pacing along the battlements again. The moon slid in and out of luminous clouds. The charcoal sea pounded the rocky face of the cliffs below. She whispered into the night, "Emery and Adele, I need to come home, soon. Please." Corinna was no longer angry, but she realized for the first time since she arrived how much she missed her home in the twentieth century, crowded city or no.

And, if she simply disappeared from here, it would be easier than refusing the man she owed so much her hand in marriage. When would the light come for her? She took the dagger pendant from her skirt pocket. The moonlight danced off the beautiful gems, but her wishing and touching them did not bring the bright portal she needed to return to her own time. She put it around her neck and still nothing happened. Disappointed and a little apprehensive, Corinna shivered in the cool, damp English air, and with a long sigh, started back to her chamber.

"Lady, you shall catch a chill in these early spring evenings without a cloak." It was a man’s voice, and one she recognized even before he stepped from the shadows of a cornerstone.

"Prince Allwyn..." He immediately bowed to her, which she thought to be unusual and a bit awkward for him. He then draped his own fur lined mantle around her, his warm fingers lingering just an instant on her bare shoulders. His touch was like electricity, sending a thrilling shiver down her arms. His shadowed eyes were dark diamonds that seemed to hold her fast like a spell.

"Thank you, my lord...or should I say, my Prince." She was embarrassed by the way she suddenly felt so giddy, and by inadvertently calling him ‘her’ prince.

Allwyn, however, seemed bemused when he spoke, "We have not been formally introduced, Lady Corinna, but upon my inquiry, my aunt, the Lady Rhian explained how you came here."

His voice was huskily male, resonant yet soft, and he spoke with the most sensual British accent she had ever heard. Just like the man in the dream. Or was that her imagination again? "I owe the king much for his kindness." she said, trying to keep her eyes away from him.

"Yes, well, he is a man who lives by his laws and righteousness, especially since he became a Christian," Allwyn divulged, moving yet closer to her.

"Oh?" Corinna inquired curiously, "And what about you, Prince, are you a Christian, also?"

Allwyn drew a long breath and shrugged. After a while he replied, "I don’t know why I tell you, a stranger this, but since you have the confidence of my father, you would eventually learn of it anyway." He turned his gaze from her to the charcoal ocean, and said, "I am yet struggling with my beliefs. My mother was the granddaughter of a priestess who worshipped the Goddess of the Old Way. Her teaching has influenced me. Some years ago I was knighted and have since been shriven in the Great Church at Caerleon. I kneel before the cross and pray when I am expected to do so. I understand Christianity, but the ways of the Old Ones are still present, here." He put a forefinger to his temple, then smiled ironically, "I suppose one could say that I am half a heathen, especially the overly pious folk, and they do. My mother believed in her ways until death, and that was the only religion I knew about until I was almost grown. At times, I have questioned that there is any God at all..." He trailed off with what seemed a resigned sigh, and closed his eyes for an instant.

Corinna asked curiously, "Were we really in danger from an enemy today in the wood?"

"There should not have been a band of that size roaming my father’s land without our knowledge, and it was not our forces. I have learned that we had best be prepared."

"I was sorry to hear what happened to your mother," she said softly.

"I...thank you. It wasn’t only her..." He stopped and muttered harshly, "I deserve no pity!"

His fists clenched and he looked away for a moment, then turned to face her again. Corinna gazed into his glowing, sad eyes and shivered, but not from the cold. Here was the real trouble. Not the king’s proposal, not the fact that she must return to her world, nor that she might be condemned as an impostor, but this man, who in only moments made her feel like she never had before. She wondered why his eyes were so haunted after all this time, but, then, she understood about losing a parent.

She was about to tell him about it when he spoke again.

"But, see here, Lady Corinna," he flashed her a gleaming smile, his demeanor changing completely, "I do not wish to tire you with my uncertainties. I merely wanted to ask about your land and people."

"You did not tire me, Prince Allwyn," she insisted, "I find you very...intelligent and interesting, like your cousin, Telyn."

"I am not such a gentleman as Telyn, " he said this almost as if he wished it were different.

He stood very close to her and she could feel the warmth of his body, but she could not read his shadowed eyes. He suddenly took her hand and brought it to his lips. "If it please the lady, you may call me simply Allwyn. And remember, I may be heathen, but I am also a knight. Should you ever be in need of a champion, I am at your service."

She thought the weakening in her knees would cause her to stumble. But, wait! What was it? She had detected a bitter sarcasm in his voice. He was not sincere! Was he using pretty words to seduce her? The rake! Or, more likely, trying to find out something she didn’t want to reveal!

She decided, however, to demurely acknowledge his chivalrous offer. She was still reveling in the pressure of those sensuously curved lips on the back of her hand. She could not keep her eyes from his mouth, fantasizing how it would feel against her own. Her heart raced to an exhilarating pace, and she thought for a moment that she should just run away.

She managed, "I'm sure I could find no better champion, my...er...All-Wyn. Thank you."

A crescent moon hung over the high tower, illuminating their faces softly. She had a ridiculous urge to just reach and run her fingers through his glossy dark locks. She knew she should go, simply turn and escape, but a powerful chemistry held her motionless as she stared up at him, and his silver-lit eyes held hers.

"If you’ll allow me one query, lady, where is it you that really come from?" he suddenly asked bluntly.

Corinna felt her chest constricting. He knows my story is made up. He is a man of the world, one who has traveled, maybe even to the real Amorica, she thought, suddenly frightened her lie would be exposed. But, how could he know the truth about where she came from? Maybe because her speech was different, and her clothing...wait, had he seen her when she first arrived? No, and not until she learned to act and speak like one of them. Was he a sailor who knew of many lands and languages? Doubtful, because his liege was sworn to Somersea.

"Well, lady?" He glowered at her, his handsome face darkening.

Corinna became angry even as she pondered his suspicious distrust of her. Even the king himself hadn’t questioned her like this, but had taken her at her word, and thought she said Amorica, not America. A mistake she gladly let slide, in relief that she had found a way to escape the malicious witch hunters. Yes, Beldaran, descendant of an old royal line, would surely be more a man of the world than his son. Allwyn could have no real idea that she wasn’t a noblewoman from Amorica! He thought he was clever, and was trying to trip her up. This prince was an arrogant one! She thought of just throwing it in his face, the fact that she was betrothed to his father and would be queen. His stepmother. That should humble him!

Instead, she said haughtily, "I am not here by your invitation, and at the time, I had little choice in the matter. I do not hear anyone else questioning my word. Why does it concern you so? If it is jealousy, worry that I will influence your father, that is ridiculous! I find you quite rude! Good night, jerk!" She whirled around and walked inside, almost chuckling as she doubted he knew what "jerk" meant. She was almost to the steps leading to her chamber when he caught her arm and roughly pulled her face to face with him.

"No gentle born woman I have known would speak so to a man!" he declared hotly.

"Oh, really?" she shot back, "maybe it’s time one did! Take your hand off me."

He loosened his grip but kept his hand closed around her forearm. They locked gazes, and as he leaned closer his eyes softened, the lights dancing in them surprised and enchanted her. He spoke very softly, "No gentle born woman would show this fire and spirit that fills me with such fascination..."

Corinna could not summon the will to pull away when he lifted her chin and kissed her lips lightly, teasingly, once, twice, then his warm mouth became more demanding. She began to respond with a fever that matched his. They kissed hard, with a hunger, deeply as if they would never stop, but suddenly he wrenched himself away. He left her standing alone, cold and aching with disappointment. For one moment he turned back, and his face seemed almost sinister as he smiled and spoke low, smoothly, "If you contrive to become close to the King, and so quickly after your arrival, I think you can expect suspicions from many, including myself! He may be blinded by your beauty, as fair as you are, lady, but I have learned the hard way to hear what isn’t said, to see what isn’t revealed, and to question what I do not believe to be true!"

She stared at him, a fury building inside her. She raised her hand to strike that haughty, mocking face, but suddenly, they were no longer alone. The sound of a young voice calling, "Prince Allwyn, a summons from the King!" echoed along the corridor and Allwyn released his grasp on her. She glared at him still as a boy ran up to them. "Prince, if it please thee, the king wishes everyone to gather for an announcement. He has the knights and his council in the scriptorium." The boy led the way, looking back for him to follow.

Corinna flung the cloak back to Allwyn with a fiery look of disdain, and left them quickly.

She had a feeling that Beldaran had wasted no time in proclaiming the intended betrothal, for his son already knew. He had known before they met, and he had purposely baited her. The same son whom she had kissed so eagerly, entrapped by his charms. What a fool I was, she thought furiously. Now, she was even more confused and worried, wondering, what was the best way to handle the situation? Although Allwyn was distrustful of her, his kiss had become a very passionate one, as if he had lost control in the sheer pleasure of it, the same as she had.

She paced around her chamber, again fretting over the king's proposal, but even that was overshadowed by what had taken place minutes ago by the tower. She finally snuffed the candles, undressed and lay in the dark, trying to erase the memory of Allwyn's lips, warm, hungry, and so sweet that she could not forget the taste.

Chapter 6

After seeing her nephew and his men fed and off to the practicing field, Rhian headed

for the kitchen. She saw that the women washed all the crockery, and the never ending labor continued, despite the buzz of excited gossip about a royal wedding. News of the king's announcement had run through the household all day. As she sat down to finish the cloak she was spinning for Telyn, Beldaran’s sister tried to collect her jumbled thoughts.

If only her brother had considered this betrothal for a time before he made known his intentions. She had a feeling his haste in the matter stemmed from loneliness and desire to take a wife, and he just was not thinking clearly.

Not that she did not like the Lady Corinna, for she did. The woman was a rare blend of beauty, intelligence, and strength of character. But she was different from them. Rhian thought of how Corinna had taught several of the children a new song this morning, one with words even she did not understand. The girl always seemed restless, but no one could fault the way she made herself useful around the household all day. She had shocked some of the noblewomen last night when she helped the servants clear the tables and sweep the hall. That was when Rhian had noticed her nephew in the doorway, and how he was looking at Corinna.

The girl had been busy and did not notice, or, if she had, she was demure enough to

not acknowledge the desirous, admiring stare. Later, Allwyn had come to her alone and

wanted to know everything she had learned about Corinna. There was not much Rhian could tell him, and she knew by the look in his intense dark eyes that he meant to find out. If necessity demanded, he would learn it from the lady herself.

Rhain could, however, have told Corinna aplenty about Allwyn, when, today in the garden she tentatively asked about him. But she was not supposed to speak of it, for Allwyn had forbidden any mention of that day in his past. The time when he shut his once bright soul inside himself, where it remained enclosed in walls thicker than that of his father's fortress.

It was a sad thing to witness, a young man so full of life and good humor changed like that. After they told him that all those in the Queen's traveling party had been slain by attackers in dark armor, a light went out in Allwyn. He blamed himself for not being there, for not having a stronger guard with the royal party, for being away on a hunt with the nobles instead...

The day the strange dark knight and his men ambushed the royal party, the queen had been on the way to graciously deliver a large donation to the Abbey at Dunleah. It was gift taken from Beldaran's secret treasure stores. Although they traveled with a half score armed footmen, the band of brigands clad in black armor had ambushed them on a heavily wooded path. One young squire alone escaped to tell the King how it happened and describe the murderers. The king raged as he swore vengeance. For well over two years, Beldaran did everything in his power to hunt down what became known as the Black Marauder's band, but they were never found, not a trace. He eventually resigned himself that it was futile, and rode out to visit other villages, tour the ore mines of his kingdom, and to heal the hurt alone. After some time, he took up his duties at Falconaire again and became a Christian and a benefactor to the church.

The Allwyn they had loved was replaced by a stranger; a bitter, quiet, hardened young man seeking revenge, obsessed with war and killing. A mad warrior who fought with not a care for his own life; first against invaders who threatened the villages, and later, against any band who encroached on Beldaran's lands thinking to take advantage of a people accustomed to peace. When quiet reigned, he went away to give his service to the army of the High King.

In the years since, he and his mounted men had driven out plunderers who had not heard of his legendary fighting prowess, and dared to land on the shore. Thus, the grateful people of Somersea dubbed him "Allwyn the Defender," and the same village bards who sang of the great King Arthur's battle prowess in earlier years, also did the Prince a tribute now and then.

Rhian sighed. Five years since that fateful day, when all of Somersea was shrouded in a terrible, dark grief. Five years, and some still carried the pain in their eyes. The Prince still sought in vain the Dark Knight, who rode from nowhere to slaughter the Queen’s party and take the gold. All this time had passed and they had yet to capture the elusive, ruthless leader in battle or otherwise. Some speculated his forces sailed in fast ships from a hidden strong hold on the Isle of Eire. But, he seemed to know when farmers and merchants brought taxes to the king, or a noble sent a gift to the monks, and sometimes when a wealthy maid traveled to her wedding with a dowry. He and his men struck fiercely and disappeared quickly as they came.

Rhian’s heart went out to them both, and she had tried to fill the roles of mother to Allwyn and overseer of Beldaran’s household. In doing so, she realized she had lost something of herself, a long since sacrificed dream of a life with her true love.

She shook her head as she thought how, after he returned, Allwyn was terribly reckless in battle. Perhaps it was his undying vengeance that made him always victorious. Sometimes he fought in the old leather armor of the Celt warriors, brandishing a long spear, his face painted with blue woad in the tradition of his mother's ancestors. He was a much feared, unstoppable warrior, clearing the land of bandits and plunderers, making it safer for peasant and lord alike.

All the while, he searched for the Dark Knight and the raid leader they called the "Black Marauder." Some said these two evil lords were the same man, but it hardly seemed possible that one chieftain could be in so many places at once. Everywhere he went, Allwyn posted a sizable reward for the head of the man who had slain his family. At times, Rhian had seen the sorrow still moldering inside Allwyn, sometimes the pain was not masked so well on his frozen face, and she feared for his sanity and soul.

Until last night. For the first time, the beautiful stranger, Corinna, had kindled a soft spark in his eyes and his face lost its grimness when he watched her. Rhian had seen it clearly, that look of pure enchantment that, given rein, leads to much more. But, what irony, that his father had met and fell in love with her first! And, what a muddle this could be, if the lady stayed at Falconaire and married Beldaran. Rhian gazed out the casement window toward Scotland, and found it difficult to concentrate on her spinning as she wondered if she would ever see her Captain again.

By the fifth day of her new experience in castle dwelling, Corinna had met most all the regular occupants of Falconaire, learned of the customs and found life interesting and challenging enough. Like Rhian had done before, she raised some gowned ladies' eyebrows when she experimented with spices over the cooking kettles or took up a broom to sweep the floors alongside the servants. Due, she supposed, to being used to the diversions of modern life such as TV, lunching in restaurants and shopping, she grew restless at times, but was determined to make the most of it.

Rhian was away visiting the village church, and Beldaran had left last night on an inspection tour of his tin mines. The wash woman shooed Corinna away from the laundry tubs, stating no lady of royalty should ruin her soft hands so, and she found herself propped in the casement of the high tower, gazing out over the ocean, missing her home. After the noon meal the steamy afternoon wore on. Bored with her sewing, and finding the children had gone to market with their parents, she finally headed down to the stables. Back home, she had enjoyed riding horses on the mountain trails during summer camp, and the scents and sounds of horses in the low pole buildings reminded her of those times.

In front of the king's stable, sitting on round shocks of hay, the slender Telyn and an elderly groom plucked their musical instruments. One looked to be a small harp, the other resembled a sitar. The old groom began singing in a surprisingly melodic voice;

"Old hawk, old hawk, the places you have been,

if you could tell me the things you have seen.

kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall,

a serf will rise to be King again..."

The song trailed off as they saw her approaching.

"Good day to you, Lady Corinna," Telyn smiled and rose to his feet with a bow and a wink, "Your beauty is so enchanting, that, had not my sweet Kieva already bound my heart in the chains of love, I would challenge Lord Beldaran for thee."

"No wonder everyone loves you, Telyn," Corinna laughed, "you have such a wonderful way with words."

"May I saddle you a horse, m'lady, and will the King be here presently?" the groom inquired.

"Beldaran accompanied his wagons to the mines. I declined to join him, but I have

changed my mind. Not too spirited a horse, sir," she admitted. "My riding skills are a

little rusty."

Telyn cocked his head to one side and smiled, "One day we must sit down together

and ye could tutor me on these words of the language ye speak, and their meaning. I overheard your comment at table last evening...You must explain to me what is ...a...hamburger."

She smiled and thought, how unlike his arrogant cousin Allwyn he was, finding her differences interesting, not suspicious. She wondered where the haughty prince was today, having not seen a glimpse of him anywhere.

Telyn said then, "I feel that I should ride with you, since it is better a lady not venture out alone these days. What say you, m'lady?"

"It's a deal," she agreed, "and, as we ride I will tell you about our words, if you will teach me all about your own language."

He amiably agreed, then frowned at the sound of thunder in the western sky and pointed to the dark clouds, "This may not be the best of times to ride, m'lady. Would ye rather leave when the storm has gone?"

She must have looked very disappointed, for he shrugged and said cheerfully, "Perhaps the storm will pass us by."

They did, however, decide it best to wait when the thunder rumbled ominously. Corinna sat on a hay shock also and listened to a fascinating bard's song about Arthur's knights on the Grail Quest, as Telyn's melodic strings lulled her into a peaceful mood.

The storm turned north, eventually, and the groom saddled two horses. Telyn buckled on a sword and they set out for the mines. They let the horses pick their way through the meadows, then steered them up a high slope into the trees. When they topped that, Corinna spotted the shape of a tall white cross on the next hill, among the woodland.

"What is that place?" she asked.

Telyn replied, "That marks the Abbey at Dunleah. The Abbot Tullias schooled me before I grew older and studied under the great scholar Barticus, in Lundein."

As they rode past, he pointed out the earthen works above which rose a stone chapel, and the cloister huts where the brothers resided. Corinna noted they had laid out a neat vegetable garden and herbal patch, near a roofed well and ringed by a border of stacked stones.

The meadows grew rockier, the path more narrow, and Corinna saw that the willow trees changed to dense, spreading oaks draped in moss. "This way." Telyn said, reining his gelding off the forest path.

"But, I studied the map. Isn't it quicker to go on straight that way?" Corinna pointed toward the woods.

"That is the Forest of the Charmed. Suffice it to say we should not go through there."

"Why is that?" she joked, "Oh, I know, it's full of dragons and wicked witches, right?" "The hill folk say that is so." Telyn said seriously and would elaborate no further on the reasons he would rather ride a full mile out of the way then go into those great trees. Oh, well, she thought, each person has a right to his beliefs and superstitions.

As they skirted a ridge above the forest, she saw that the storm had passed but another was gathering. The first drops of rain hit the leaves before Telyn indicated that ahead there was a rock outcropping where they might shelter. The air grew colder and gusty. Before Corinna could tether her mare to a small tree, a bolt of lightening crashed down a few hundred feet away. The mare reared, rolling her eyes in terror and yanking the reins from Corinna's hand. The horse ran free and bolted toward the trees where she disappeared.

Soaked and shivering, Corinna huddled under the rock with Telyn to wait out the storm. When the day grew dark as night and the wind howled, they suddenly heard the remaining horse give a snort as if frightened. Peering cautiously out, Telyn ducked back and whispered, "Don't make a sound."

Corinna felt her heart start to thud in her chest like a drum. Her eyes questioned him, but she obeyed his order. At the hoofbeats receding, he looked out and so did she. His horse was galloping away down the slope, ridden by a burly man wearing animal hides and a battle ax in his belt.

"Saxon thief!" Telyn said angrily. "And they are supposed to honor the treaty and stay off these lands! Hah!"

"What do we do now?" Corinna asked, peering through a sudden downpour as the storm hit in full force.

"Stay here. Your horse will return home. Allwyn will come for us."

She said sarcastically, "Oh, great! 'His Arrogance' will love this one. He can look at me in that haughty way with those cold eyes and say, "you little ninny, it isn't enough you are foolishly riding strange territory in this weather, but you dragged my poor noble cousin out with you."

Telyn laughed, "I take it you have met Allwyn, and, as he is wont to be, did not get off on a very good foot with him!" He was solemn then as he said, "That aloof sarcasm of his is only a facade. It serves to hide a man who was shattered."

She looked sharply at her companion. "What happened, to make him behave that way?"

"I can say no more, m'lady."

"Telyn!" She exclaimed in agitation, "You don't do that to a lady! Finish the story, please. I promise, I swear, it will go no further."

Telyn said in a low voice, "Allwyn has been on a bitter, futile quest to find and kill an evil thing, be he man or demon I know not. Perhaps the killing will serve to get him past all his sorrow and guilt. It happened before I came to Falconaire. I am sorry, but that is all I know."

All he was going to tell, anyway, she thought.

Corinna shrugged. "Maybe...he does have reason for harboring so much anger inside."

Thinking further about it, she remembered hearing how his mother, Beldaran's queen, had been killed by brigands years ago. Yes, she knew quite well a part of what was in the abrasive Prince Allwyn's soul, and to her own surprise, realized she wanted to know more.

"The man he seeks...is he the one they call the "Dark Knight? Is there such a man?" Telyn waited a moment before he replied seriously, "I believe I have seen that evil lord once, and once is enough."

"Tell me about it," she encouraged.

"One wintry eve last year I was traveling with some minstrels and monks. We had been on a long journey, returning from Arthur's Michelmas celebration in Lundien. We had ridden into the Black Forest where an early snow covered the trail and the wolves howled around us in the deep shadows..."

Telyn's words painted such a vivid picture that Corinna shivered. He went on, "A band of horsemen in black capes and armor swooped in like vultures from a hillside and surrounded us. Few of us carried weapons, but we fought them as best we could, fearing for our lives. They had most of us knocked to the ground when the leader rode up on a dark war charger gave orders to be away. He had found what he sought, a bag of coins one of the priests carried. This leader was a tall man in black chain mail and closed helm, and he carried the long shield of a knight, but it bore no crest. I was sorely vexed at losing the money meant for the church, and I ran at him brandishing my sword, in what the brothers swore later was a daring but stupid act of defiance.

Of course, he dispensed of me quickly with a blow from his war club, and I rolled down a snow bank, knocked senseless. I heard his evil laugh echoing behind the helm, mocking me, and when he came near I saw the gleam of his eyes through the slit, staring at me as a wolf stares at a cornered rabbit. I saw that long sword raised in his hand, and somehow I found my feet and dashed into the underbrush. He did not follow, since his armor would have slowed him and I wasn't worth the trouble, I suppose. I shall never forget his shout of, "Cowardly bard! Next time you will meet your end!"

He galloped away, and by the moonlight I saw a silver cape flying behind him. When I reached Falconaire and told of it, they swore it must be the Dark knight and sent men to search, but found no trace of him or his band. To this day I wonder who he was and how he had cause to know me."

Corinna drew a long breath. "Yes, if he knew you as a bard, then you must have met somewhere before."

"However that be, I was truly in God's care that night." Telyn smiled, "and now, I would rather speak of something else. You mentioned you wished to learn more of our language?"

It must have been a half day and several lessons on old English wording later when they heard a rider coming in the rain. "It's Allwyn," Telyn exclaimed in relief, and sprang from their shelter to wave his cousin down. The rain had slacked somewhat.

"He has brought only one horse," Corinna muttered, stepping back from the black stallion's path. The Prince looked loftily down from his silver studded saddle. "Had I brought two, I would not be here even by nightfall, for the difficult task of leading them. Be that explanation enough to please the lady?"

Again, his brand of mocking sarcasm that set her ablaze.

She swallowed a quick retort, and went to mount the chestnut gelding tethered to Allwyn's horse, thinking, she was not about to double up with the prince. Not after he had the audacity to just grab and kiss her so tantalizingly last night, to confuse and then infuriate her with accusations. So much for chivalry. This man had no clue of it.

Allwyn said brusquely, "Telyn will ride the gelding. You are light enough, I believe, so my horse will not be strained."

She started to protest loudly, then she remembered what Telyn had told her, about the Allwyn's scornful attitude being a front. Slowly she approached the stirrup that Allwyn held free for her. The charger was so tall, she looked for a handhold to pull herself up, one that was no where near the prince's taut body. Suddenly his powerful hands were at her waist and he lifted her like a rag doll, depositing her on the saddle behind him, against him. When the big horse surged forward, she had no choice but to fling her arms around Allwyn's waist to stay aboard.

As they galloped on the path back to Falconaire, she found herself thinking how lean and hard his waist felt beneath the cloak and tunic, how his scent reminded her of rubbed leather and sweet musk. She leaned her face against his broad, warm back to ward off the drizzling rain.

Just as they were about to enter the Forest of the Charmed—Allwyn apparently no such qualms about it as Telyn did—they were called out to by several riders coming through the fen to the north. The rain had ceased, and through the rising mist she saw it was Beldaran and his party.

They all dismounted to share cups of water from the barrel on the wagon. When it was time to remount, the king said, "My lady, I would be honored if you will share my trusty steed, and I promise we shall be first to arrive at Falconaire."

"Oh, ho! You jest, father!" Allwyn scorned, but this time with humor in his voice. "When has your ploughman's cob ever been able to outrun my black?! Come, lady," he gestured to her, "We shall show this boastful king! Even with the lady's added weight, we shall best you by a mile!"

"Oh, no! She shan't add much, the lovely, delicate flower that she is. My sweet Lady Corinna, take my hand up and grace my saddle, and we shall best my bold prince by two miles!" chuckled Beldaran.

The men in the party took sides good naturedly, laughing and calling for her to choose one man or the other so they could get to home.

She looked at Allwyn, so coolly assured it seemed he was, that she would want to remain his riding companion. Wrong, lofty Prince, she thought, and reached up and smiled sweetly at Beldaran, "I would much rather ride with you, my lord."

Beldaran beamed and lifted her aboard. She glanced over at Allwyn as they started for the road again, and saw him regarding her with a cold, ironic humor. His eyes met hers for an instant, then he tossed his head like a proud stallion, as if he did not care whatsoever for her attention. But something in their exchanged look had told her otherwise, and the knowledge sent a powerful thrill through her body even as she told herself to forget him.

The king's big gray palfrey flew over the hills and meadows, outdistancing the others by a quarter mile. They all arrived at Falconaire and chased the chills at the hall fireplace, drinking cups of warm wine and mead. Telyn told of their adventure and the horse thief. The captains began to speak of how they should sharpen their weapons and go hunting for stray Saxons out there.

Corinna turned several times from her seat beside Rhian to find Allwyn watching her. His dark eyes glimmered with an unmistakable hunger before he looked away.

The following morning, the king sent a girl to Corinna's chamber with a silver tray of barley cakes, honey, and fresh milk. A little later, another servant brought his invitation plus the proper lady's drab attire for riding, a gray woolen dress complete with a short cloak, a crop and calf boots. Once she was in the courtyard, a groom brought out a sleek, gray dappled mare and informed her, "the King awaits your company at the gates, m'lady."

They did make a handsome couple, Rhian decided, as she straightened from where she helped with the planting of vegetables and watched Beldaran and his intended ride toward the village. It was not so unusual, that a man would marry a woman five and twenty years younger than himself. It might work out very well, she convinced herself. She really thought it could, except for one problem. The way Prince Allwyn and Corinna looked at each other.

Allwyn had grown bored, given up on the hunt and left the other noblemen. Today his heart wasn't in it, which was unusual for him when it came to any sort of competition. He saw the riders leaving the gates, and he reined in his horse behind the honeysuckle hedgerow. She rode past, alongside the king, not ten paces from where he sat unnoticed. Even dressed in a plain riding habit, Corinna’s lovely face and curves were eye catching and he noted how her round breasts pushed against the thin wool of the dress. Her long, raven hair was bound in a scarf, but the tresses he often seen floating in the wind were shining where they fell down her well formed back. He could not tear his eyes away until she had ridden from sight over the hill. Merely looking at her had lit the fire inside his body again, just like the last time.

Allwyn swore to himself he would never again let her bewitch him like the other night. He would go out on an excursion under some pretense, and find a compliant noble widow to assuage his need as in the past, or, there were the two captain's daughters who... But even as he halfheartedly contemplated that, he realized he had no intention of doing such. This strange beauty Corinna had done something to him he could not explain. Only one moment in his arms, one stolen kiss and she had disrupted his carefully calculated purpose. He must get control over this desire that she ignited inside him, and ignore her. Or, better yet... He wheeled and spurred his mount toward the gates with new resolve. Yes, that was the answer. He would send her away.

Chapter 7

It was a sun-drenched spring day tempered by a cool ocean breeze, and the endless water sparkled like diamond dust against an azure sky. Corinna watched the white doves soaring over the cliffs, and realized she felt so wonderful she had forgotten most of her longing for home. She dressed in the plain habit Rhian had given her and laced on the suede boots Terra brought from the crafter. Her ride with the king on the previous day had taken them through some serene meadows and provided an opportunity for conversation. She had learned a lot about the people and their culture. Today, Beldaran had promised they would visit the village market in Bris.

The king was also attired in dull brown and gray, intending for them to look like a farmer and his wife so that they could ride to the markets, incognito. He rode an old dun horse instead of his bright stallion, and save for the sword he wore for their protection, no one could tell him from a common man of his kingdom.

The horses trotted through the newly tilled fields, where the planters sang as they worked in the warm smelling earth. Corinna had noticed that most of the servants and sewing women at the castle hummed or sang happily as they went about their tasks. During one of their talks in the gardens, Rhian had told her they sang because they were content in this peace time after knowing nothing but war for many years. They worshipped with songs of praise to God in the chapel and brought donations to the abbots, knowing they had much to be thankful for.

Beldaran helped Corinna dismount at the marketplace, and she assured him her outing with Telyn had given her a chance to get used to riding. "I'm fine, not too sore, anyway," she smiled ruefully, rubbing her backside.

In the square, the merchants hawking their wares at the stalls caught her attention. There were woven baskets, cloths, sandals, boots and shawls, all handmade and unique. She came upon a group of children trailing behind their mothers. The young ones were wistfully eyeing the painted wooden dolls hanging out of reach at a wagon.

Corinna wished for some coins of this era so that she could purchase them each one a doll. Beldaran must have read her thoughts. He nodded, smiled and gave her a handful of silver.

The woman selling the dolls could have easily cheated the stranger who did not know the money’s value, but was honest enough to refund the extra coins over the price.

The children's eyes shone, and their peasant mothers beamed and bowed to Corinna when she presented the gifts. An apple-cheeked boy and a girl in braids gave her legs a grateful hug before all the little ones went squealing in mischief, running off to play with their new toys.

The king, unknown to his subjects as he walked among them in a worn, hooded tunic, smiled his approval at her. "You will make a splendid queen," he said softly.

Corinna purchased a large, ribbon decorated basket for Rhian to put her flowers in, a lace trimmed scarf for Terra, hair ornaments and a gilded comb and brush set for herself. Then, wishing to show her gratitude to Beldaran, she found and bought a beautiful cloak brooch made of silver inset with blue lapis gemstones.

He was waiting with the horses beside the well. She gave the gift to him and he was greatly pleased. "Oh, my dear, how thoughtful...and you have such good taste!" He kissed her on both cheeks and pocketed the gift. "I would allow this beautiful piece of artistry to adorn my present cloak, but bandits would be tempted to ambush this unarmed peasant and take it." he explained, smiling, "but I shall most certainly wear it to church."

Corinna purchased a gold ringed quill pen and a matching ink jar for the scholarly young Telyn. Now...There was one more immediate family member at Falconaire, and not wanting to slight one of her hosts, she looked for something to give Allwyn. At the end of the narrow laid stone street, she saw what resembled a gypsy wagon with a covering of stretched hides. The sides were draped in velvets of bright colors, with eye-catching pendants hanging in a row. She perused them curiously and found that a couple of them were actually small, disguised lady's daggers like hers. She lifted her own from beneath the high-necked riding habit to compare it.

She looked up to find a woman dressed in blue, yellow and magenta striped robes watching her. The woman smiled kindly and when she moved out of the shadows into the sunlight, Corinna could not help staring. The petite, dark-haired merchant woman resembled her aunt Adele! But, as Corinna moved closer, she saw there were more lines on the brown face, and her hair under the square of lace was coal black. The woman asked, "May I show you some dyed cloth, or herbs, lady?"

Corinna felt uncomfortable for some reason. "Are..you the...Are you selling these pendants?"

The woman nodded, "I am, lady. My husband crafts them on his forge. I inset the gems and do the chain working."

"These are the most exquisite pieces of jewelry I have ever seen," Corinna complimented, "..maybe you could help me to choose one for...an acquaintance of mine. A young man."

The woman seemed to be staring at the dagger around Corinna's neck, and she went on studying it awhile before she nodded and said, "This is the one for you to give him."

She reached with a wiry brown arm and took down a glittering pendant, a circular silver hoop with an intricate twist forming two halves of a heart and it hung on a heavy golden chain.

It was so uniquely beautiful that Corinna happily spent most of the remaining silver coins to buy it. She thanked the woman and found her way back to Beldaran, the necklace tucked in her inner cloak pocket. Perhaps she would keep it for herself. The piece seemed too exquisite for a man as tough and cold as the Prince to appreciate. She again wondered how someone of this kind family could be abrasive as he was. Or was there more to him, deep inside? She caught her breath as she realized how much she wanted to look for more.

The king introduced Corinna to Eben, the village leader, a sort of mayor in these times, she gathered. Eben had to look closely at his visitor's face before he realized he spoke with the king. He walked about with them, proud to be asked by royalty to show a pretty lady around and tell how they lived and prospered. He took them beyond a row of thatched wattle huts and pointed to a gaily decorated pole being constructed on the green field.

"We prepare for one of our grandest celebrations ever," he told them, "there will be games, music, dancing, and feasting. There will be many weddings performed at the time of Maying."

"We also celebrate the Maying at Falconaire," the king said to Corinna, "with a great feast and dancing as well. I think that would be the perfect day for us to be married. What say you, my love?"

Corinna felt so full of life today, and had experienced a kindred spirit with this remarkable man. She hated to dampen a newfound friendship, and this was not the time or place, so she only smiled placidly and murmured, "Perhaps. Who can tell?"

He told her that the Maying was ten days from now.

Later they accepted the village leader's offer of refreshment at the well and sat beneath the elm trees, chatting. The men soon turned the subject to hunting, practice fighting and other sports engaged in at Falconaire.

As they rode back across the hill toward the castle, Corinna took a steadying breath when she recognized who was mounted on the black horse galloping toward them. Prince Allwyn reined in, not looking at her as he said to his father, "The Bishop Padric of Caerleon waits for you in the main hall. He claims to have important matters to discuss."

"Oh, to be sure. Tax collecting time, no doubt," Beldaran groaned, and turned to Corinna. "I apologize. I have promised you a showing of my falcons, and teaching you hawking, my Lady Corinna, but I must see the honorable bishop first. Here, I have a thought! My son is excellent with the gaming birds. Allwyn, I have a small favor to ask of you. Teach my lady the art of falconing with one of the merlins, for no one is better at the sport than you. Save for myself, of course!" he added jokingly. "Besides, the cooks need meat for the kitchen."

The king rode on toward the gates before Allwyn could sputter his protest. The Prince dismounted, scowled at her skeptically, and there was something else...almost an accusation in his eyes. "Does the lady actually wish to learn hawking, or is it merely a ploy to impress the king and further his thinking that you will make a good wife for him?"

Corinna had expected him to be full of resentment for her after learning she would become his stepmother. She was determined to ignore his barbs. "Oh, yes sir!" she said sprightly, "I think those birds are gloriously beautiful creatures! I would love to learn how to handle one..."

The Prince curtly motioned to her to follow him to the aviary. He snapped orders to a lad who soon brought a bird from the mews. It was a glossy mist gray hawk, wearing red jesses.

"Shall I bring your gyrfalcon, my lord?" the boy inquired.

Allwyn replied with a tinge of sarcasm, "In a while, after the lady has her amusement and learns hawking, the hard way."

Corinna smiled serenely and took a determined stance while the lad buckled a gauntlet into to place on her arm. Allwyn held the little silver hooded hawk on his wrist, murmured to it in a language she did not know and slowly transferred it to her. The nervous hawk’s wings whipped air at the movements. "Stay still," he instructed, "let him become comfortable and used to your scent. Speak very softly."

"Does he have a name?"

"Bright Arrow. I and my cousin Telyn hand fed him when he was a hatchling, and old Tew, the keeper, trained him. He's one of our best hunters."

He buckled on his long gauntlet to protect his arm from the sharp talons. Then he instructed her on how to fly the bird using a long string, and how to call it back with a reed whistle. Once, during her lesson, the hawk became excited and slashed out, catching her other hand with a talon. Allwyn showed unexpected caring, but he also muttered, "My father should know this is not a sport for the untrained, especially a lady." Corinna would have bristled at that, and was sure Rhain would have, but then he took up her hand in concern and gently wiped the cut clean with his kerchief.

He said, "You should go inside and let Terra give you aid."

"I don't think this scratch will bother me," she insisted firmly, "I want to learn this."

Her arm ached and the talon mark did sting a lot, but Corinna was determined to succeed.

Her dress was torn and the string tangled, but she persevered. At last, she was able to fly and perch the bird correctly, and when she successfully called it back Allwyn nodded with a new respect in his eyes. When the lesson was finished, he tethered Bright Arrow on his perch and put the hood on him. The mews boy came carrying a pole, bearing a large brown and gray gyrfalcon. Allwyn softly talked to his bird in a language she did not know. Avion, as he told her it was named, shrieked to be loosed to the skies. He lifted the falcon on a gloved fist, loosed the tether, and sent him upward.

It was a beautiful sight, the great bird wheeling over the tall forest against the bright blue sky, and suddenly dropping like a weight, his talons seeking some prey. By mid-afternoon, he had rewarded Allwyn with a bag full of game chickens and quails.

"I take it those will be supper this evening?" Corinna said and smiled up at him.

Allwyn slowly returned the smile and said with a rare touch of humor, "Gwenith, our best cook, will prepare such a tasty meal from these that hence I shall be expected to hunt with the falcons every day."

The two of them had become almost like friends today, she thought. He has let down that stony guard of his and stopped being so sarcastic. Perhaps he accepted the fact that she was not after his father's riches and would not make such a terrible stepmother after all.

Or, maybe his true feelings matched hers. No. That was a silly and unlikely notion, she scolded herself, and a useless thought anyway. It seemed, if nothing intervened, she would become Beldaran's queen. If only she loved him. It seemed, although Corinna scoffed at herself since she knew so little of real love, that her feelings for him were more like one felt for a father or an older brother. Still, if she must remain here, she could do a lot worse than marry a king, she thought, with a sense of practicality.

Allwyn called his gyrfalcon back with the reed whistle, and he returned with a catch. But coming closer, Corinna had to turn her head and would not look at the torn remains of a dove. Suddenly regretting this lesson in something so savage, she muttered, "I am tired. I want to go to my chamber."

Allwyn studied her with his piercing, dark gaze as he drew the sack of game closed. She could not tell if there was mockery in his tone when he said, "Perhaps you are truly a lady of gentle breeding, since you have not the stomach for such as this. But many noblewomen consider it an art, or an entertaining sport. Besides, it is helpful at times when the larders are empty."

She commented as she walked away, "I think I will only eat vegetables from now on."

He laughed thinly and said, "in truth, I have no heart for this. I prefer to train and fly the hawks using a stuffed lure."

She turned to look at him. "Then, why?..."

This time the mocking tone was evident. "You, lady, are indeed from a foreign land. Here, we do not dishonor our father by refusing to do his bidding."

When they returned to the bridge, she asked, "Is the king still at his meeting with the Bishop? Is that why he never joined us, as I hoped he would?"

Allwyn had to look away. He refused to show her any signs of the growing jealousy he couldn't stop himself from feeling, and he replied, "My father, I would guess, is haggling with the Bishop Padric. They are friends and have been for years, except around this time of year."

"Your father said something about taxes?"

"Aye, tribute to our lord and protector, the High King Arthur and the church." Allwyn said wryly, "My father praises Arthur's chivalry and justice codes, and models his own rule after the Court of Briton. Then, in his next breath, he curses the payments that sustain Arthur's regime."

Corinna laughed, "By what I've learned, I think tax paying citizens are always going to grumble, no matter what century they live in."

Allwyn looked at her, but let the remark go unquestioned. He took her horse's reins when they parted in the courtyard, and in doing so, his ungloved hand touched hers and seemed to linger just an instant. She looked up and he bowed slightly, "My lady, I trust you had an interesting day. I certainly did." He turned abruptly and left her.

Corinna stared at his beautifully formed back as he led the horses away. She shook her head with a sigh, and walked toward the hall.

Rhian told her the king and his guests were in the scriptorium, and that one of the bishops had come all the way from Caerleon. She found the heavy wooden door to the room standing slightly ajar, and she heard booming voices. She peeked through the crack and watched them, unnoticed. After a few moments she decided the bishops were the men in rich velvet robes wearing large crosses around their necks. There was a elderly scribe with a parchment square and quill pen, and a servant pouring wine in silver chalices. She saw another man, swarthy skinned and coldly handsome in Roman-like military garb, and she recognized him as Corman, the king's chief advisor. Allwyn was not with them.

Corinna paused there, not wanting to interrupt the conversation which began to sound like a council voicing opinions. She heard the dark, heavy set bishop saying, "I must strongly protest this union with the unknown woman, my Lord Beldaran. Look you, my dear sister has loved you for years and remains fervently hopeful that you will ask for her gracious hand. She is a princess! Daughter of a great Eiresh king, therefore undisputed royalty and also well

endowed with land. I beseech you, put aside this foreign woman, whomever she is, and pledge your betrothal to Inon."

The king sighed, "Cardew, my old friend, your sister is indeed a...ummm," he cleared his throat, " genteel, learned lady. But," he placed his hand on his chest, "would you have me enter into something so binding, when I feel it is not right, here, in my heart?"

The Bishop Cardew replied dourly, "'Tis better to heed the wisdom of the head than the foolishness of the heart, always. Wouldn't you say so, Padric?"

The silver-haired, tonsured court bishop, Arthur's exalted Padric, simply nodded and looked at the ceiling in a bored manner while he fingered a long roll of vellum. The royal tax declaration, no doubt, Corinna thought with a twinge of wry humor.

Beldaran then looked to Corman, his right hand man, but got no support there. The trusted advisor said firmly, "My Liege, I think you should send this Lady Corinna back to her homeland and take the Bishop Cardew's advice. Inon will make you a much more suitable wife and queen."

Beldaran waved them all away, shaking his head. He stood up and flung open a bronze chest as if he wanted to get at least one matter over with. The Bishop Padric tucked the fat pouch of coins inside his elaborate robes, and bowed. "Bless all men in this room. My royal lord, your rendering shall enhance the coffers of our great and generous church."

Cardew mouthed sardonically to one side of his wine chalice, "More likely, it shall enhance the war chests of Arthur's great army."

The man holding the wine jar snickered and looked at the floor. Corman, whose eyes and hair were the same dark mud color as Bishop Cardew's, cleared his throat and resumed, "My Liege, send this strange Lady Corinna away. You and your court will be much the better for it."

He glanced at the bishop, and Corinna noted he could have been a thinner, more handsome version of Cardew. No one had mentioned it, but they must be related. She saw the bishop give Corman a small secret nod, and the advisor continued, "What do you know of the lady, if indeed she is even that? She is a strange woman of the world, and probably only a commoner. Forget her. My lord, take up the hunt of the Golden Stag once again, and I'll lay wager that this season you will bring the great hart home in your huntwagon, something no other man shall ever do. Or, another option, journey to Camelot and take up the knightly quest that most of the Brotherhood of the Table have embarked upon; the most honorable search for the Holy Grail."

"Bah! Searching for a mythical cup that shall never belong to mortal men!" Beldaran scoffed, "I shall never become crazed with despair or get myself killed, or desert my people to chase an impossible dream, as many of Arthur's knights have! As for the Golden Stag...well... I still mean to be the one to bag it. My lady should not mind if I go on the hunt occasionally."

"You have been warned in the scripture against vanity. It is said this stag, God’s creature, will never be brought down by mortal man..." the pious Bishop Padric reminded him. "Come with me and lend your army's aid in our endeavor to spread Holy Christianity to other lands and drive out the heathens. A great crusade. This has long been my dream."

Beldaran shook his head. "I am jaded with battles and have no heart for such a campaign, though I should send gold to sustain you in such a cause."

Bishop Padric took up the coin bag and followed the scribe to the anteroom for recording the payment. The king turned to Corman, "Why, I believe I shall go on another hunt for the Golden Stag. My good man, organize it soon."

At the door, Corinna smiled a smile of cunning. Here was a way out of this marriage, perhaps without hurting or angering anyone. She took a deep breath, burst through the door and glared at the king. "So! You think to leave your wife-to-be sitting at some boring spinning wheel or other castle duty, while you go traipsing merrily through the forest with your men and an ale wagon! No, my dear, as your wife, I will not allow it!"

All three men looked at her, Beldaran in disbelief, Corman with a snide little smile, and Cardew with a raised eyebrow. I must indeed look a sight, she thought. Her hair had come unbound during the falconing, and it spilled in wild waves over her tight bodice, which the hawk had torn, and her hand had a red scar across the back.

Finally, the king cleared his throat, took a draught from his wine cup and smiled graciously, "Friends, may I present my lovely betrothed, the Lady Corinna of Amorica."

She neither curtsied nor acknowledged the other two in any way, but said tritely to Beldaran, "...And furthermore, I say it was rude of you to leave me out there all afternoon with your your insufferable son!"

The King was taken aback. He had seldom seen this kind of brazenness in a woman, and had certainly never thought his sweet Corinna capable of it. She fervently hoped the result would be his changing his mind completely about marrying her. For one moment he looked as though it might have worked, but his glittering blue eyes softened as he studied her. Then, his face went stubborn and he said firmly, "Go help my sister with the evening duties, lady. And know you that should I please to go hunting, I shall do so." He drew himself up proudly. " Perhaps the Golden Stag will be a challenge I need. Advisor, you are right. It is time to take up the hunt. Then, I shall marry this beautiful spitfire, for despite her sharp tongue, she is a fine and noble lady. She will learn to behave as a queen should. I shall see to it."

He turned to the Bishop Cardew, "You will give us your blessing when you return?"

The bishop said cryptically, "As you wish, my king."

The rain ended early and the sun shone again the next morning, bringing up wispy, dancing columns of white mist dancing above the sparkling meadows and sea cliffs. Allwyn sauntered beside the apple trees as he returned from hunting his falcon. He stopped short when he saw them. Corinna and Telyn sat on a log bench beside the river, surrounded by a group of children. Corinna was reading in her clear voice, although haltingly at times, as she paused to ask Telyn the pronunciation of some words in a papyrus book. Allwyn remembered when they were lads of fifteen how Telyn begged an Egyptian sailing merchant to sell him that book, for, other than the scrolls kept by the monks, written tales were scarce.

As Corinna spoke the words, Telyn would act out the story with exaggerated poses and gestures that had the young ones laughing and at the end, begging for another story.

Allwyn turned abruptly and went to the mews where he left his falcon with the caretaker, then he strode back to the river bank with a scowl on his face. Today it must be done and over with. He would fight the effect this woman, or witch, had on him; his resolve was steely strong and he would not waver. Oh, his father might rail at him and swear he did not understand why he boldly and wrongly interfered. Later, the king would come to realize this was best, for everyone. If he knew the thoughts I am guilty of having about his intended bride, he would understand,

Allwyn thought with bitter irony. He saw Corinna bid Telyn farewell and go with her graceful step inside the gates, the children following. She was good with them, he had to grudgingly admit, and he had often watched her from a distance as she instructed them in a new game or learning of the letters Telyn taught her.

Alone, Telyn took up his harp, drawing his fingers idly across the strings as he appeared lost in thought. He began a mellow tune. When it ended, he looked up to find Allwyn beside him. "Good day to you, my kinsman. Have ye come for the writing lesson I promised some time ago? We should have the Lady Corinna teach you her lettering, which is different and fascinating..."

Allwyn said abruptly, "I seek your aid in resolving a troubling matter. I trust I have it?"

Telyn nodded, "Certainly, cousin. What is this matter?"

"Corinna of Amorica...if that is indeed where she came from. I am going to send her back home on a ship, today."

Telyn stared at him, then he shook his head. " I am sorry, my Prince. Anything but that, and I would assist you. She cannot go, for that would hurt Beldaran deeply. He loves her, you know. That much is easy to tell."

"She will not be good for him, nor he for her. A union between them is doomed to fail." Allwyn shrugged then and turned away, "I do not need anyone to help me. I shall escort her there alone." He stated, "I do this for my father's own good."

"For his own good, or mayhap for yours?" Telyn said to his cousin's back.

Allwyn turned again to glare at him, then he strode away. The harp strummed and he heard his cousin sing in a teasing tone; "I rode to Alderbury, and let the Lady be It mattered not where I did roam My Lady followed me Her eyes shine in the morning sky Her gentle touch is in the breeze I shall ne'er be content 'til the lady loves only me..."

Allwyn made straight for the stables and curtly ordered the groom to saddle his horse and the dun mare. He swore under his breath and vowed, "She will be gone, today!"

Chapter 8

After freshening up and combing her hair, Corinna chose a blue gown from three which Terra had hung in the chamber. She was almost dressed when a knock came at the door. Doing up the laces of the off-shoulder gown quickly, she opened it and found Allwyn's squire, Gavin, standing there. "Sir Allwyn requests that you meet him at the stable entrance, m'lady."

She hesitated, then told the boy, "I will go there in a little while, when I have finished dressing for...the midday meal." She had finally stopped calling it lunch when talking to one of the castle occupants.

He nodded, "As you wish, m'lady. Shall I escort you "

"No, thank you. I know the way."

When he had gone, she hurried to the mirror and smoothed her hair again and arranged her silver combs, then laughed at herself for being so foolish. How did she know what Allwyn had in mind by asking to meet with her? If he was his usual ill-tempered self, he was probably going to order her to stop the wedding or something like that. She threw a lacy white shawl over her bare shoulders, and, trying to collect herself, took her time walking through the courtyard.

Rounding the corner of the buildings along the outer wall, she almost ran into Allwyn as he stood holding the reins of his black stallion and the mare she had ridden before. She looked up at him curiously. Was he taking her riding? Surely, with her betrothal to another man, this would not be "seemly," as they put it. "Are we going somewhere?" she inquired sweetly, "is Beldaran coming along?"

"The King," Allwyn said with stony emphasis, "is away on some business in the border villages. Can you mount, or shall I assist you?"

"I can certainly mount without your help, but I won't, until you tell me where we are going!" she retorted.

"The ship yards on Mere Estuary."

"Why?"

"I am sending you back to your homeland." His grim look and tone of voice suggested that if she refused, he would bodily plant her on the horse and tie her to the saddle.

Corinna stared at his set features and went cold inside, thinking, I should have known, and I should have stayed safe in my room. Now they were completely alone and he was looking at her with a challenge in his eyes. He would be thinking he could learn the truth simply by her reaction. If she was not from Amorica, she would try to make excuses and dissuade him from putting her on a ship bound for that country. No way would she give this impertinent nobleman such satisfaction! She lifted her head proudly and looked him in the eye. "Then let us be going," she said serenely. She planted her foot in the stirrup and swung aboard the mare, not looking back at him as she urged the horse toward the gates.

The side saddle he had assumed was her customary riding gear felt strange, and it took some getting used to. They did not speak on the trek across the sunny meadows and hillsides as Allwyn led the way along the winding river. She found sometimes when she looked up that he watched her, but he always looked away with that haughty tilt of his head. After they had crossed a rough plank bridge he suddenly reined his horse back to ride beside her. She saw his jaw working, as if he was indecisive and troubled by it. He turned to her and asked, ""You were not a fugitive running from a crime you did not commit?" She shook her head, and he continued, "Nor a wife running away from an abusive husband?" "No."

"But, you were homesick for your own land, all the time?"

She said truthfully, "I am, a little."

"Then...this is best, for everyone. You know that."

Corinna was silent, but she smiled to herself. He sounded now as if he needed her confirmation that he was doing the right thing. She wasn't about to give anything to him.

The river widened at its mouth which fed into the sea, and seemed a busy place around the docks. There were dwellings of the workmen and smoke rising from the fires of what Allwyn explained was a smelty, where ores and silver were hammered and shaped into everything from jewelry to swords. They dismounted near a long wooden ship with a curling prow and tall masts. Red and yellow flags fluttered above the folded sails, and the rope moorings creaked as the tide tugged at the craft. Allwyn spoke with some burly men unloading crates, then he motioned to Corinna to follow him as he hurried to the men standing at the foot of the gangplank. One was a portly, red bearded man dressed in colorfully striped robes and wearing large jeweled rings. A merchant trader, probably. The other man, who wore a long dagger in his heavy belt, was muscular and had a brown, weathered face and gnarly hands. She guessed he was the ship's master.

As best as she could follow the conversation in the sailor's thick brogue, he assured Allwyn that, yes, passage for the lady could be arranged, for a price. Allwyn removed a small leather pouch from behind his sword scabbard and paid the man. Corinna waited silently. Allwyn turned back to the merchant, whom he apparently knew. "Will you, my good man, see the lady escorted to Amorica safely?" And he gave the man more coins to ensure her safe journey home. Still she waited, motionless.

At last, Allwyn turned to her and held out the pouch of silver. She shook her head stubbornly, "I want nothing of yours."

He glared at her, his jaw working again. She asked quietly," "What are you going to tell Beldaran?"

She saw him swallow as he stared at the ship. He turned away before he replied, "I shall tell him you wished to go back to your people."

She watched him mount his horse and lead her mare away behind him. She accepted the gentlemanly merchant's assistance in boarding the boat, then she stood on deck among some coiled ropes and barrels, out of sight of the busy crew, and watched Allwyn ride to the top of the hill. He stopped and turned to look back at the ship a moment, then he spurred the horse on and disappeared.

Angry that there were tears even threatening to spill from her eyes, Corinna strode to the gangplank, and seeing that the captain's back was turned, she scurried up to the dock again. She walked behind some houses along the dusty street, looking for a stable where she might find a horse. Me, sail off to Amorica, Prince? Not if I can help it! At least in this country she knew a little about the customs and language and how to survive the challenge of everyday life. There she would have been in serious jeopardy. She fully intended to get back to Beldaran's safekeeping, because that was the only recourse she had right now. Until the light returned for her. May it be soon, she prayed clutching her hands together in anxiety, let me go home soon.

She was pointed toward the river bank by a woman cleaning fish, who said there was a stables down there. At a log building, she pulled a comb from her hair and approached the man who was checking a horse's hooves. "Sir, I will trade this piece of gems and silver for a gentle horse. I must ride to the stronghold of King Beldaran."

The wizened little man in brown homespun seemed not to care where she was headed, but eyed the hand crafted silver with interest. He led out a small, swaybacked horse and said, "This cob be the only mount I can spare, lassie. Be a mite slow, but ye will get there."

"I'll take him," Corinna said, "if you can add a saddle and bridle."

While the stableman saw to the cob's livery, Corinna stood outside and watched the ship prepare to sail. The planks had been drawn up and the sails were unfurling, as the prow turned toward the open water. The wind had taken the boat perhaps five hundred feet into the channel when a clattering of fast moving hooves echoed from the street. A rider on a big black horse reined up sharply, flung himself from the saddle and ran to the edge of the dock, shouting something. Corinna stared. It was Allwyn! She moved closer, staying behind the vine covered fence that separated the village from the quay. She heard him call out to a man in a small coracle, "I pray thee, good man, take me to yonder ship before it reaches the sea, and I shall reward you well!"

The man in the little boat took up the oars and shook his head. "Water out there be too rough, master."

Even from her hiding place, Corinna could see Allwyn's face was a mask of anxiety. Something had changed. He wanted to reach the ship before it sailed. Why? Her heart pounded so hard she felt faint for an instant. I will find out why, she said fiercely to herself, and ran across the board dock toward him. Allwyn was pleading with the man in the boat, flashing coins in his hand, and she heard him explain, "I must stop the ship! With it goes a lady I should never have sent away! I have acted foolishly and I regret it now...please, sir, help me! I will give whatever you ask..."

It was tempting, Corinna thought, I should let him go out there and discover I am not on board, while I ride back to Falconaire. But something in his anxious voice had touched her too deeply for that. She tapped him on the shoulder, "Stop the ship, Sir Allwyn? Really!" she managed a scornful tone. The look on his face was priceless. He suddenly ignored the man in the boat who was now interested, asking, "Ye wish to be taken to the ship, my lord, for those two bags of silver?"

Allwyn waved him away, took her roughly by the arm and marched her to the horses. "You will return with me, so I shall not have to try and explain to my family," he said brusquely, "get on your mount and we shall be off."

She backed away and smiled, "Oh, no, I won't be riding your horse. I made a purchase of one, in exchange for my hairpiece. Here he is now."

The little cob was led over to her and she gave the stableman her comb. Allwyn snorted, "that is a ploughhorse! I would blush with shame to have a riding companion come traipsing in on such a mount! Take this mare, and I will pay the man two pieces of silver for the comb back. It will adorn your locks much more beautifully than it will melt down for his spending at market."

Corinna shook her head. "I'll give this horse to Gwenith's son, Dak, he has been wishing for a pony. I can get another comb from the crafter"

They turned off the river path for Falconaire as the sun settled over the trees, Corinna riding the mare and Allwyn leading the cob behind his stallion. When they topped the last hill and saw the high battlements and banners against the radiant sky, she said, "You give your blessing, then, for me to marry your father?"

If she had slapped him unexpectedly in the face Allwyn couldn't have been angrier. "You, lady, will tell him the truth of it, then see if he marries you!" he stormed, his face dark as a thundercloud. "Tell him you are not of Amorica as he believes! And whatever you are hiding, I swear, I will see that you tell him the truth!"

Corinna was exhausted from her excursion and made excuses to avoid dinner, but she found it

hard to go to sleep. Almost as frightened as she had been the day her parents were killed, she spoke to an imaginary guardian in the dark, "Please, bring me back. I don’t know how to cope with everything here. I want to come home."

Strangely, a warm peace filled her, driving out the cold fear, and as she grew drowsy, a soft voice spoke in her mind. "Everything will be all right. Happiness will come. Sleep now, child."

Chapter 9

The following morning, a messenger riding a fine liveried white horse was brought through the gate. He bowed and said, "Lord Beldaran and royal family, I bring an invitation bearing the signet of Duke Rhys. He and the Duchess bade you and yours come to the spring festivities at Dunmoor, three days from today."

He presented the parchment square to Beldaran, and Rhian's face lit with a smile of anticipation as she explained to Corinna, "I have been waiting for this. The Duke and Duchess are Welsh, descended from an ancient royal line. Each spring, to celebrate the completion of the planting,

they have neighboring lords and their kin come for two days and nights of music, dancing, tourney games, and other innocent diversions ..."

She chuckled as Corinna looked at her in curiosity, but Rhian would not elaborate. "You will have to come and see for yourself," she said.

Beldaran sent the messenger back with regrets that he, himself could not attend, since business with another lord called him to Cornwall, and stated that he sent by courier a tribute to Rhys for

the aid of his garrison. Farewells and wishes for safe journeys were said, and the king kissed Corinna gently before he departed with his guards. The royal party consisting of Corrina, Rhian, Kieva and Telyn, the women accompanied by Terra and another maid, set out in the opposite direction riding in a tight group at the forefront of three trundling wains. They were guarded by Allwyn and thirty of his calvarymen in full battle armor who formed a ring about them. The women's gowns were packed in trunks on one wagon, and the other two held everything from water and provisions to gifts, such as tapestries, wines, and clay jars containing preserves and dried fruits.

Corinna had not seen Allwyn during the day's journey, as he rode well back amongst his men. After they crossed the river ford and paused under a grove to rest and refresh, Allwyn strode up to stand beside Telyn. He insisted sternly that they inquire at the next farming village if anyone had seen or had trouble with brigands, especially a group led by a dark-armored knight.

The first peasants they found swore they had seen no one. A few miles into the moorlands, the reeve of a farming village shook his head and declared that he was blessed with only peace and good crops. Then, as they were riding away, the farmer asked with a poorly disguised gleam in his eye, "m'lords and ladies, would ye wish to trade a few sacks of gold and silver, have ye any, for fresh wheat flour and the finest ale in Briton?"

Allwyn dismounted slowly. His face was dark as a thundercloud and his hard eyes never left the man's face, which began to twitch slightly. The reeve yelped in surprise as he found himself lifted and pinned to the wall of his house, Allwyn's fist clenching his jerkin tight enough to choke him. Corinna gasped in dismay as the man's face grew purple and his feet flailed wildly. Telyn ran to them, exclaiming, "Kinsman! Do not kill him! We can find out what you wish to know, if you will but unhand him." He motioned for some of their men to surround the shaking farmer whose feet found the ground again, uncertainly.

Allwyn growled, "You inquire greedily of coin we do not carry. We are not fools!"

The farmer stammered, "Nay, my lord. I but asked innocently..."

"Of course you did," Allwyn spat, "and I was born a holy priest!"

He took a step toward the man again as Telyn inquired in a firm tone, "What did the brigand knight promise you if you informed him of parties traveling with coin?"

The reeve shuddered, glanced at Allwyn in dread, and finally blurted, "I pray you, my lords... Forgive me! He...the ruthless knight whose identity we know not...declared if I aided him, his men would not burn my house and my grain! He swore if I spoke of him to any person, he would kill my wife and children, all of us..." The man's voice broke and he crumbled to his knees, still pleading for their mercy.

Corinna shook her head in heartfelt compassion for the man, and blurted, "Please, don't harm him! He has a family, and had no choice, he was forced to do what he did..."

The prince met her steady gaze for a moment, and then it seemed his cold fury abated.

"Aye, killing him would not deter the brigands, they will find another informer to use for their purpose," Telyn said to Allwyn. He pulled the grateful man to his feet and sent him off with a warning.

Rhian added, "My dear nephew, it is not him you wish to punish with your vengeance."

"Aye," Allwyn replied harshly, "and 'tis here I take my leave of you. I go to seek

my evil quarry once more, for he must be nearby."

At Rhian's cry of protest he looked solemnly at them and promised, "I send all but ten of my men on with you. I shall join you at Dunmoor 'ere it be possible."

Corinna tried in vain to reason away the ache she felt inside as she watched Allwyn pack provisions and weapons. His eyes met hers as he rode past in departing, but he looked away quickly, his handsome face set grim in the glow of a burnished sunset.

The Duke's wife, Betia, had seen that much of Dunmoor castle's rough old walls were covered with bright, rich hangings. The blackened cross timbers above the hall were hung with colorful banners, fresh flowers adorned each table and torches blazed in every corner and cranny. The aroma of baking dough, roasting pork and spice scents drifted as far as the gate, and on the outer common, trestles were set full of cakes, loaves, and cheeses for the common folk to join in the feast. A band of roving troubadours had been commissioned to play music in the hall for the two days, pausing only to refresh with food and drink. The Duke greeted all his guests on the bailey, bowing to the ladies graciously. Corinna had heard it said Rhys was Welsh, but his square jaw and eagle-like features could have been Roman, and his eyes were merry and quick to assess everyone's needs. The thin, velvet gowned Duchess, her hair primly coiled and draped in damask, was equally as gracious but remained very proper.

"This rivals even Camelot's Easter feast," Telyn said to his hostess.

Duchess Betia smiled proudly and demurred, "Ah, no. We hardly compare to the Court of Briton, but I trust you shall enjoy yourselves."

Telyn said, "With hosts such as you and the Duke, I am sure we shall."

She inquired brightly, "And will you, my wise young man of royalty, be attacking the Bramble Wall?"

Telyn chuckled, "Do you make sure my fair Kieva waits among the ladies above, and you shall see I am one of the first to conquer your perilous Wall."

The Duchess sent a woman to show them to their guest chambers and excused herself to go and see that preparations were coming along.

Corinna frowned in curiosity, "...Bramble Wall?"

Rhian explained, "'Tis an old, traditional game of her royal lineage. At the far end of Dunmoor is a high outer wall on a rock plateau rising straight up, very treacherous and covered with hanging vines and thorns. Ladies who wish to be claimed by a brave swain may wait in the rose garden above the wall. If the man who fancies her can make it to the top, the lady will give her valorous climber a red rose, signifying that she will become his."

"Sounds interesting. I have never heard of this custom anywhere," Corinna commented, "but, couldn't someone get hurt if he fell?"

"Alas, yes they may. Some have in past games. But, 'tis far safer than the melees on the tourney field. Although, in the climbing of the wall, if two men vie for the same maiden, it is the castle lord's right to say if they duel in a joust."

Corinna shook her head and her mouth quirked, "I guess boys will be boys, no matter what time or country they live in."

"Your pardon?" Rhian looked at her curiously, and Corinna changed the subject, asking, "Will you be one of the ladies present in the rose garden?"

She smiled, "Yes, I think I shall. Please do join me, it is great amusement. Since you are betrothed, you only need give a man your ribbon for his tourney lance, you do not have to pledge to him."

Corinna studied the other woman's face and asked with a touch of mischief, "There is someone you are hoping will scale the Wall for you, am I not correct, Lady Rhian?"

The king's sister shrugged. "I am sure he has word of the festivities. Whether he will be able to come, I know not."

The golden-haired lady would speak no more on the matter. Corinna hung her extra gown in the small chamber given her and reflected that she would be interested to find out whom this man was that the king's sister held in her heart.

It was evident that Betia had struggled to establish the best of citadel type civilization here on the wild Welsh border. The royalty sat on draped benches and dined on venison and goose, drinking their wine from silver chalices. Their hunger more than satisfied, the Duke's household and guests settled back to watch the mock battle on the banner lined field. Corinna absorbed the scene with interest as Telyn explained the rules. Those who were able to continue after the roughest melee would go into the jousting rounds. Several knights who were unknown here had come to try and win the large purse of coin promised to the final victor.

She experienced a pang of emptiness, noticing the absence of one knight among the men from Somersea. There was no word of Allwyn, and her imagination caused her to worry that he had met the enemy he sought, and possibly lay injured or worse...

She sighed aloud and tried to concentrate on the noisy action in front of them. Once the dust cleared, several men limped away or were carried off the field to their pavilions. Corinna saw that some of them were barely more than boys; squires who had recently been dubbed, her hostess explained. The crowd then shifted to the crude wooden bleachers that lined the jousting course. In a while, the knights who were able had refreshed and replaced splintered lances and broken swords, and they paraded onto the field, each announced by the master bellowing through an ox horn.

Sitting on a front row cushion as did the rest of the Duke's guests, Corinna heard a stir ripple through the crowd and her gaze followed their pointing fingers. On the crest of the hill, framed against the bright afternoon sky, a knight in dark mail and a magnificent silver tabard sat aboard a charcoal colored destrier. His spiked, blue-black helm was closed and his dark shield bore no coat of arms. He sat there, not moving once. Soon the crowd's attention was again riveted on the field and the charging opponents tilting at each other, and boos and cheers boomed out when a favorite was unhorsed or victorious. The winners of the matches today would be pitted against each other tomorrow in the main event, where one champion would take the largest bag of silver and three of the Duke’s grand horses.

Corinna could not help watching the strange knight on the hill. She inquired of the Duke who sat three places up from her, "My lord, do you know whom that darkly dressed knight could be?"

Rhys said he did not, and added, "We require that name and land of liege be given to the tourney master, or one does not enter the contest. However, there have been some strangers before, mercenary knights most likely, who used false names to enter, hoping to take the prize moneys."

When Corinna next turned her attention from the tourney, the mysterious knight was dismounted and speaking with the yellow-robed master, who motioned to his clerk to make an entry on the roll of names. Later, as she and Rhian made their way to the makeshift privies, she saw the dark armored stranger give coins to a squire whose knight had been injured and carried off earlier. He is buying the services of a squire for the tourney, Corinna thought, her curiosity peaked further. He is going to joust against Rhys' best knights. As they made their way back past the pavilions, a chill went through her as she noticed the knight prancing his mount along leisurely perhaps twenty feet adjacent to them. He had raised his visor, and his glittering stare seemed to be riveted on her and Rhian. She almost mentioned this to her companion, but then the man with the horn called for the next combatants, and the strange knight pushed down his visor and wheeled his charger toward the field.

Corinna and Rhian had barely taken their places beside Duchess Betia again, when, in a flurry of dust and dirt clods the dark armored knight galloped to them, leaned and reached out his mailed hand to Rhian, saying in a commanding, gruff voice muffled by the helm, "Fairest of all ladies, I desire a token of yours to wear into battle."

Rhian drew a sharp breath, hesitated, then shook her head, "I know you not, sir... Who are you?"

"I am the champion who desires only your favor, and with your bestowment of a token, I shall be victorious." He stretched his hand close to her hair, done up in gold spangled ribbons.

"He is not...my shipmaster, alas..." Rhian sighed to Corinna.

Betia seemed to enjoy the attention of the surrounding royalty watching the towering knight

bend in front of her. She tittered, "give the poor yearning fellow a ribbon, Lady Rhian, and after the joust, perhaps we can learn whom this mysterious paladin might be."

Reluctantly, slowly, Rhian loosed one of her ribbons. The knight had his squire hold up the weapon long enough to tie it on the shaft of his lance. "My fair one, behold your victor," he rumbled, lifted his hand in salute to Rhian and galloped away to take his place against Rhys's champion.

"Confident, isn't he," Corinna said dryly. Betia and Rhian puzzled over who he might be, and Telyn squinted as he watched closely, saying there was something familiar about the man, somehow, but he could not place it.

The Duke said cryptically, "Whomever he is, I would wager on his defeat. Sir Roderick of Scotland has never been bested."

The Scottish knight in bronze colored armor wheeled his huge chestnut and lifted his lance from which fluttered a lady's purple scarf. The earth shook like thunder when the two galloped full tilt toward each other, met with a loud crash, and Corinna heard the crowd gasp as a splintered lance flew into the air. Sir Roderick rode to his man for another, and the opponents charged and met again with a thudding blow that tore the stranger knight's shield. The force also toppled Roderick from his saddle, and he rolled to his feet and drew his sword. The stranger knight met him on foot then, and metal rang on metal, mingled with shouts and grunts as the two battled furiously. Nicked and bloodied and covered in grime, they somehow fought on and neither would yield to the other. It would have gone on until after dark, but at last, Duke Rhys called the match a draw and declared they would have equal prizes.

"Now, at the banquet tonight we shall finally learn whom is that mysterious knight," Betia smiled.

But the dark armored knight did not come to dine in Rhys' hall, and no one seemed to know of him or where he went after claiming his prize horses and moneys.

There was music and dancing and a bard recited ancient tales for the guests in the crowded hall. Corinna's eyes searched the men standing around the archways, but there was no sign of Allwyn. The merrymaking no longer intrigued her, and with an empty feeling she excused herself to retire for the night. A young blond knight she had not noticed before followed her to the second story walk and caught up to her, boldly touching her hair, "I am Sir Corey of Loch Lann. Pray you, my lovely, do not leave me so soon! We have not yet danced."

"And we are not likely to," Corinna said bluntly, "I am not feeling well, excuse me." But the knight, apparently having drank his share of libations, closed a big hand around her arm and laughed, "You intrigue me, you ladies of the court, always playing coy and unattainable!" With that he pulled her roughly against him until his ruddy face was inches from hers and his demanding mouth sought her lips. She turned her head and struggled furiously to escape, shrieking, "Let me go! How dare you!"

He clamped her waist tight in one large arm, forcing her along the walk, nuzzling her neck and muttering, "We go to my chamber, sweet lady, just a bit farther..." Corinna came alive with fright, realizing what was happening, and she screamed as loud as she could. It echoed along the dark, deserted upper floor, but she feared the music and revelry below prevented anyone from hearing. Sir Corey was wrenching at his door with his one hand behind her, the other clamped over her mouth like a vice, when she saw over his shoulder that a dark masculine form leaped from the wall. The next instant Corey's head was snapped back as a powerful arm clad in a leather guard snaked around his neck. With the threat of a dagger pricking his ribs, he released Corinna and she backed against the inner wall as her rescuer dueled with her captor. Corey broke free, snarling curses, whipped out his own dagger and the two faced off. Their blades slashed the air, ripped leather and cloth and one of them cried out gruffly in pain. The stranger was backed into a flickering pool of light from the torches below, and Corinna gasped, "Allwyn!"

"Stay back," he grated, "I shall finish with this sorry dolt quickly enough!"

"You shall eat your own boast, meddler!" bellowed Corey, and his blade missed Allwyn's ear by an inch. The more slender man grappled close with the enraged young knight and wounded him in the upper arm. The dagger fell with a clatter onto the stones, and Allwyn's fist thudded into Corey's chin. Then torches blazed from below the steps, as finally, a guard hearing the ruckus alerted the others. Corinna looked behind her to see Allwyn dash around a cornerstone at the end of the walkway. Unnoticed by the men as they picked Corey up, she ran the way he fled, calling his name softly. She went down some steps to an open area, struggling to see in the shadows, and gasped when a figure stepped from the cluster of vines ahead.

"Allwyn?"

"Aye."

His glossy dark locks were pulled severely back with a leather lacing. His stubbled face was visible in the light of a waning moon, and she realized he was glowering at her. His shadowed eyes held a crackling light as he spoke gruffly, "Get you to your chamber, lady! Ahead lies the garrison where Rhys' unmarried fighting men sleep, and I would advise you that no women of any morals venture there alone."

She resented his tone and his assumption she could not handle herself. She said sarcastically, "So, Sir Allwyn, has the search for your enemy failed? Here you finally show up, and with your usual privileged air, take for granted your host is not spurned!"

"The dark knight's trail led this way, but no one knows of such a man..." Allwyn seemed to not hear her barb, and after a moment he said quietly, firmly, "You must take care to keep a woman or two with you, and never assume all knights or noblemen are chivalrous. Some cannot consume their drink and keep from the ladies."

"Indeed," she replied tritely, "Men are all the same, everywhere."

"Your innocent look and your assertive way almost got you into trouble, perhaps in a scandal, tonight. Suppose no one had come to protect your virtue?" His voice went dangerously low, "Suppose I had killed the drunken lout, as I first had thoughts to? Killed a knight of my own lands...now that might have brought retribution from as far as the High Court!"

"You would not have killed him. Not for me, a stranger you do not trust."

He did not reply for a long moment, then his face became hard and his eyes distant as he said, "I will walk you near your chamber, then I must go. Bolt the door and stay inside until the morning."

"Yes, sir, I promise I will be a good girl, master." Corinna mimicked a simpering girl's voice, laughed, and whisked away to leave him behind in the darkness.

"It is not something I say in jest," he said angrily behind her when she reached her chamber, "Remember to secure the door quickly."

"No need, while you are nearby," she said lightly, then more intensely, "Or is it you I should secure it from?"

His gruff reply sounded almost strangled, "Lady, get you inside before we are both caught in a scandal..." He stepped away from her, his jaw working, his hands clenched as if his restraint was being tested to the point of breaking.

She turned to look at him one moment before she closed the heavy door, and read something in his eyes she did not understand. She suddenly felt guilty for not thanking him and did so, and added softly, "I hope you do find your enemy, if that’s all you really want."

He swallowed hard, then Allwyn bowed curtly to her and strode away.

Chapter 10

Most of the guests rose in mid morning, bleary-eyed from last night's revelry, and found still more sumptuous fare laid out on the hall trestles. Rhys' seneschal stood and announced the pairing of knights for today's main tourney, set to begin at high noon. But first, he chuckled, some really brave men should follow him to the far outer wall by the thornwood.

Corinna sat with Terra at the casement, having dined from a silver tray and put on the yellow gown. The girl coifed her hair primly in pearled ribbons. A young woman came knocking at the door, giggling and whispering, "Come, follow me, Lady. The others go to the Wall."

Corinna sighed and said to Terra, "I really wish I could get out of this, but I promised Rhian I would stand beside her."

"You are looking so beautiful, m'lady, that a handsome knight will surely come for you. If he first does not fall," Terra giggled.

Corinna gave her a long suffering look and followed the group of gaily dressed ladies, many in wimples and elaborate gowns that filled the hallway and trailed behind them. Rhian looked regally gorgeous in simple blue silk and white crinoline, her thick gold tresses woven high beneath a wispy headdress. Her laughter as they chatted and joked with the others rang clear and hopeful. They crossed along what seemed to Corinna like the entire length of sturdy Dunmoor, and finally two men in red velvet tunics escorted them to a wide ledge at one end of the rose garden. Corinna glanced down and gasped at the sheer drop, possibly sixty feet and straight to scattered rocks amongst a wild tangle of huge blackthorn bushes. The brambles lending the wall its name vined thickly up the face of the wall and rooted at the top, and some vines were thick as a man's arm. These, Betia explained, would allow strong and fortunate questers to climb to the lady of their dreams and be pledged to her. The sound of male laughter drifted to them from below, and the ladies around her giggled, twirled their roses and peered over the stones in a vain attempt to see which men waited to storm the wall.

Corinna thought to herself, this was even more silly than prom night in her time.

The Duke and Duchess took their place above them in the shade of a canopied rose trellis, and at the Duke's signal a boy blew his horn loudly. Shouts, the noise of boots on stones and the vines shaking went on for awhile, then grunts of pain, and crashing of brush, followed by a thud. "One didn't make it," Corinna said, looking over to see a man wearing partial armor scrambling to get out of the thorn patch.

Kieva exclaimed, "Oh, I hope it was not..." Then she laughed in delight and ran forward holding out her rose as Telyn hauled himself over the top of the wall. The two embraced, she fussed over his scrapes and thorn cuts, and they walked away hand in hand.

Several men made it and joined their overjoyed ladies, and some did not. One squire yelled up that his arm was broken. Corinna shook her head and politely refused in turn a couple of young suitors who moved on to the next pretty girl. What am I doing here, she wondered, then stuck the rose jauntily in her hair and turned to go inside. The game was over anyway, the Duke and Duchess withdrew and no more men climbed the vines. Suddenly, she saw a man in black armor spring up over the top of the wall. Even as she wondered how he made the climb in a full suit of mail, she realized he was the same knight who came to Rhian before defeating Roderick on the tourney field. His silver tabard was covered with dust and ripped by the thorns, but he strode boldly to Rhian and took her hand, pressing it ardently between his.

"My lady, I scaled this obstinate wall for you, my one desire. Come away with me," the stranger implored, his voice smooth and deep, although muffled by the closed helm.

Rhian drew back, laughed nervously and Corinna could see her face mirrored disappointment. "I am sorry, good knight, but...you are not the man I hoped for. Please accept my compliments, though, for your bravery and strength."

She made to follow the other ladies who had gone through the arbor, but the stranger caught her arm. "Who are you, sir?" Rhian exclaimed, trying to pull away. "Remove your helm so I might see your face, or leave me!"

He pleaded, "Does it matter who I am? I love you above all others and I can make you a grand lady of your own castle. Come with me, I have a rope ladder down the wall."

Suddenly Corinna remembered Allwyn's words, "the Dark Knight's trail led this way, but no one here has seen him." Her chest tightened as she went toward them.

Rhian refused him and backed away. But the knight trapped her in the corner, caught her other arm in a mailed grip and forced her along the wall to his ladder. She struggled furiously, and Corinna yelled for someone to help, even as she looked for some weapon to use against the interloper. She feared he would fall and take Rhian with him, teetering as they were now on the ledge. She then saw that the vines shook furiously, and stepped back, gasping. A dust covered, lithe and muscular figure bounded over the wall and his sword whipped from his scabbard.

"Allwyn!" She cried in amazement.

"It is him!" He cried in a strangled voice. He shoved Corinna aside and commanded the dark knight, "Release the lady, now!"

Taking advantage of her captor's surprise, Rhian broke free and jumped to the terrace. She and Corinna retreated into the arbor as metal clashed behind them. Allwyn engaged the stranger in a lively match of swordplay, although he wore no helm nor armor save a breastplate and guards. The dark knight hacked at him mercilessly until his leather tunic was slashed and hanging and the armor weakened with pierces, but Allwyn furiously began to force him back along the wall with his counterattack. Suddenly, he slipped on a loose stone beneath his boot, and to Corinna's horror, the other knight's quick blow felled him. He tumbled on the stone face down, and painfully rolled over. A sword point at his throat, Allwyn looked up dazedly to see the Duke and several men running to them.

"Hold, man! Take your blade from my Prince of Somersea!" Rhys' command caused the dark knight to pause, then to Corinna's and Rhian's immense relief, he drew back his sword, smiled and bowed.

"Exalted Duke, your battle prowess and wealth I have long admired. Sire, this man attacked me, intending to take my chosen lady away from me. By the rules of your chivalric game, I reached her first and she is mine."

"Who are you, sir knight?" Rhys demanded.

"Arnoul of Gaul," he spoke from behind the helm. Corinna thought she had heard that voice, somewhere, but she just couldn't place it. Neither Rhys nor his councilmen knew of him, they said.

The Duke reached down, helped Allwyn to his feet and steadied him. Rhys then cleared his throat and inquired, "Does he speak the truth?"

Rhian bristled, "He does not! I refused this man..."

"By the rules, sire, an unplighted woman who chose to be here must accept her suitor," the knight grunted. "Am I not correct?"

The Duke reluctantly agreed he was, and said apologetically to Rhian, "My Lady, I regret this trouble for you, my royal guest."

Allwyn found his voice and grated, "Duke Rhys, I pray you, let me engage this enemy of mine in combat for her!"

"That is allowed, but will you be able for it, Prince?" The Duke asked, eyeing his battered condition.

"Aye, I will," Allwyn said determinedly.

The Duke lifted his hand. "Then I proclaim a duel between these two knights, set for sun up tomorrow morn."

Rhian took the pitcher of water from Terra and pressed a cool cloth to Allwyn's face. He lay on a bed in a Spartan, shuttered chamber at a far end of Rhys' castle, resting from the wounds dealt him by the dark knight. Corinna took one sniff of the musty room and ordered a servant to throw open the shutters on the single window, allowing fresh air inside. They sent for clean cloth to bind his cuts and the Duchess sent a midwife to dress them.

Rhain shook her head in bewilderment as she helped tend to Allwyn. "You believe he was your hated Dark Knight? Sir Arnoul, I think he said."

"I doubt he used his true name, but I know it was him," Allwyn said fiercely, then muttered in exasperation, "all the years I have sought him, and when at last we engage in battle, I had left my best sword and armor with my squire so as to easier climb..." He stopped short and winced as the midwife began stitching the slash on his upper arm.

Rhian looked slowly from her nephew to Corinna and back again, her eyes widening, and an amazed smile quirked the corners of her mouth. "You were climbing the Bramble Wall, my kinsman! Pray tell me, who would have been the fortunate lady?"

Allwyn would look at neither of them. He groaned and tried to roll to his side. "I stopped in the wood below to rest and remove a stone from my horse's hoof, and saw that you needed my help, nothing more," he said. "Now leave me that I may rest, for come the morn I shall need it."

"As you wish, Sir Allwyn," Rhian smiled knowingly, motioning to Corinna to follow her from the room.

They made their way to the hall to dine, and Corinna noticed the older woman's serious eyes regarding her, almost as if in accusation. Although for a brief moment hope had flared inside her, the notion was ridiculous. Surely Rhian doesn't think it was me that Allwyn was climbing to! Certainly, a man like him would know unmarried ladies, no matter where it was he traveled. Still...aside from Rhian, she had been the only woman left at the top of the wall. None had stayed, waiting for Allwyn. They all had gone off with the man of their choice before the dark knight reached the top. Had Allwyn ridden into the wood intending to climb to her? Would he dare, with her about to marry his father? She dismissed the notion as quickly as it came. Given the way he treated her, he would not have even asked her for a token to wear in the tourney, and he spoke of no plans to enter the games anyway. He was concerned only with killing his enemy knight.

She then began to question the whole situation, and spoke to Rhian, "The knight who tried to take you away...it seemed I knew his voice from somewhere. Like Allwyn, I have this feeling that he used a false name. Have you had any such persistent suitors in the past?"

Rhian looked at her, then chuckled, "There have been a few, even some in Beldaran's council, but I made it plain I cared for none of them, and that was the end of it. Thank God my brother never tried to force a match on me, and he knows I will choose only the one I love."

She said then, "I don't believe my demanding knight was of our land, but I keep wondering how he knew me. Perhaps, if Allwyn can force him to yield tomorrow, we shall see his face. But, I think, if his strength does not fail, he will kill the dark knight. He has long waited for such a chance."

Corinna shivered in the early morning mist and watched the sun slowly swathe a sparking path between the trees and light the colorful pavilions. Most of the Duke's guests had managed to rise and gather at the field for the duel between Allwyn of Somersea and the stranger knight. Rhian was almost a celebrity: the woman whom two powerful knights fought over. Gossip and speculation buzzed among the women especially, and several of the men wagered. For the most part it seemed they favored Sir Allwyn.

The tension mounted for Corinna, the crowd buzzed and the sun burst over the top of the deep woods. The Duke himself stood up beside his wife and announced Allwyn grandly through the bull's horn as he pranced his destrier onto the field. She saw he sat straight in the saddle in a full suit of armor, and prayed he was all right and could last to defeat the dark knight. Of course, only for Rhian's sake, she told herself.

The sun rose higher, the spectators shifted and chattered, and many began to mutter about the challenger's tardiness. "Perhaps he turned coward overnightly," one well dressed noble sniggered, and another said, "A man should think twice before going against Allwyn of Somersea, him who trained under Lancelot."

Allwyn sat on his borrowed destrier beneath an elm tree. His arm ached and pain ran like needles through his body at every movement. He looked at the bright sky and breathed a fervent prayer, "Please let him come here, so that I may end this bitter thirst for revenge, and let me be strong enough to not fail." He felt some assurance, knowing he had just prayed to the God his father and family worshipped. But then, what good had that done his family years ago?

The morning passed slowly and grew warm. Prickly sweat annoyed him in spite of layers of linen beneath the suit of mail. He began to fear that the blackguard from whom he must defend his aunt would not arrive. Once again he would be denied his long quest, even as Arthur's best knights had been denied the Grail.

He rode toward the platform where the Duke and his company sat beneath a pole canopy, intending to ask Rhys if the joust were to be called in his favor, since his opponent was absent. His gaze fell on Corinna and remained, and he drew in a long breath. She was so beautiful he ached anew, though this time not from his wounds. She wore a simple gown of pale gold samite that revealed her creamy throat and shoulders, and her dark, dark hair spilled down in long tendrils escaping from the ribbons. The jeweled cross pendant she often wore lay between her round breasts, and for one foolish moment he imagined his face nestled there instead. Am I going mad? Must be the heat, he muttered and could not help wondering; if he rode to her and asked for a ribbon, would she... No! He checked the notion sternly. I do not need to beg for a lady's favor. He had always felt that jousting should only be part of battle training, not some frivolous game for lords and ladies to watch.

Just then a trumpet sounded, and, turning his attention in the direction the crowd pointed, Allwyn saw the dark armored knight ride over the hill, his squire trailing behind him. His heart beat stronger, the blood coursed through his veins and he forgot the heat and the pain. At last he met his hated enemy. He trotted the horse to his designated end of the course and turned him.

As the knight rode closer Allwyn stared, and muttered in surprise. The horse was a light gray, not dark, and the man wore blue-black full armor and appeared smaller than the Dark Knight had been. His shield was not plain black but had stark white crossed daggers painted upon it. The destrier's livery coat was not a blank silver, but... What jest was this? They were adorned with the golden dragons of Caerleon!

He called out to the man, "You are not Sir Arnoul! Who the hell are you!??" The other

knight cantered past him in haughty silence and took his place at the other end of the field. Allwyn frowned. Perhaps the destrier's trappings were stolen, and most likely his enemy had bought the services of some mercenary fighter. Allwyn's blood boiled. The Dark Knight could readily kill those weaker than himself, but would not meet a man who might best him, the slimy coward! Outraged and insulted, he decided to summon the Duke and demand the joust be called in his favor since his challenger was absent. But, he knew at the same time that some courts allowed a stand-in for any good reason, and the outcome weighed the same. At the very moment he lifted his hand to signal Rhys, the marshall, eager to have this match done and ready the field for the main tourney, blew the horn. The other knight wasted no time in couching his lance and spurring his steed forward. Allwyn's well trained mount needed only a touch of spur and he sprang onto the course, following the line. They thundered at each other, great hooves flinging bits of earth, gaining speed.

Not since his days at Caerleon had Allwyn jousted one on one, but it came back to him as he set his lance, noted how the other man held his shield, and aimed for what he hoped was the weakest area. The stranger knight was no novice, he slanted his body so the lance hit the upper left corner of his shield while at the same instant he drove into Allwyn's, nearly unseating him.

Allwyn gripped his lance and the reins, pain jarred through him, every cut and bruise reminded him yesterday's fight had taken much out of him with no time to recover. He wheeled his snorting charger to meet the unknown knight again, and this forceful encounter splintered both their lances. Allwyn reeled in the saddle from a stunning blow that drove the chain mail against his shoulder. He felt a stickiness and knew he bled, but he fetched another lance from his squire and turned to meet his opponent again.

Corinna clasped and unclasped her hands, uncaring about who saw her concern. His granite face revealed no trace of pain, but she felt it and knew. "There is blood!" she gasped. "He's been hurt!"

"Lady, Sir Allwyn is strong and sound, and this is not the first battle wound he has taken," the Duke tried to reassure her. Betia whispered aside to Rhian, "I have only seen that kind of concern from a lady in love."

"You are wrong this time, Betia. Beldaran weds her on the Day of Maying."

Betia replied knowingly, "Mark my words, Allwyn is the one."

Adding credibility to the prediction, Corinna gave a small scream and her hands flew to her mouth when Allwyn was jarred, unhorsed and toppled to the ground. The stranger knight met him with drawn sword, and the sun glinted on their slashing blades as they danced, parried and struck in fierce combat. After several minutes both seemed to be weakening. She saw Allwyn stagger and she turned a pleading look to the Duke, but she knew he could not halt it, or else by law the challenger could still claim Rhian.

Allwyn had learned the weak spot in his opponent's defense and harried him back, took several serious blows himself, and finally with one desperate swing he knocked the other knight to the ground. His sword tumbled from reach. Allwyn stood with a foot on his heaving chest and grated, "Yield, and show your face, or by all that is Holy I will kill you!"

The other man spat out defiantly, "As I fought in Arnoul's stead, I shall reveal my identity, but never shall I yield to you!"

The voice sounded that of a very young man, but Allwyn steeled himself and looked to the Duke for a sign whether he should drive his blade in and make an end to this cohort of the evil Dark Knight. Though many in the crowd called for the defeated knight's death, Betia protested to Rhys that it might be regarded by their priests as too barbaric. Finally, the Duke shrugged his shoulders, pointing to Allwyn in a gesture that meant, "You decide." He looked to Rhian, who could not say the word either.

Corinna caught in her breath when Allwyn looked at her, and even with the distance between them she read the question in his eyes. She shook her head adamantly. He stood back and bade his squire undo the straps and remove his felled opponent's helm. She saw Allwyn stare in disbelief and heard his exclamation, "Mordred! What do you here?"

A shocked gasp arose from crowd, and the Duke muttered something about Arthur, climbed from his chair and hurried onto the field.

"Can it be?" cried Betia, "Prince Modred from Caerleon?"

"Not Caerleon by right, but Mordred from Orkney!" muttered a nearby lord, "And what justice that a good champion defeated him!"

The man's female companion hushed him, "Do not speak so! He is the High King's nephew!"

"Nephew, hell! His bastard son, more like..."the man retorted.

Corinna could not help the chill that ran through her, as she watched the Duke's men help the young knight to his feet. Many of the crowd sent up a hearty cheer. The Dark Prince, she thought, subbing for the Dark Knight, how ironically appropriate, and he has most of Briton's favor, so far. Mordred's looks were boyishly innocent and very appealing: fair skinned and supple in form, curling blond hair cut above his shoulders, and round blue eyes. She noted how the ladies

including Betia watched, and one exclaimed, "Is he not beautiful!?"

Corinna shivered. Beautiful, and deadly. She watched the Duke speak with him and clasp his hand in a trusting gesture of friendship. Then the Prince of Camelot walked off toward a fancy pavilion.

Rhys shouted to all those gathered, "Sir Allwyn of Somersea is the victor of this match! The Lady Rhian is free of obligation to Sir Arnoul, wherever he may be."

A cheer went up, and the crowd milled about as many went to the refreshment tent for reprieve from the sun before the main tourney. Rhian and Corinna found Allwyn in the shade of a nearby grove where Gavin had brought him a cup of cool ale. He told them his shoulder wound was not serious and had stopped bleeding. Rhian embraced and thanked her nephew with heartfelt expression, "My dear nephew, God never made a braver or stronger man! May he bless you."

Corinna said quietly, "I am relieved you were not injured badly. You should go lie down and give your wounds a chance to mend."

For once he was civil to her. "Of that, I am in agreement with you, lady."

Rhian asked curiously, "How came it to be Mordred that fought you?"

Allwyn replied, "I was truly shocked as anyone when I saw his face! Apparently Arnoul promised him something to stand in, saying he had pressing business elsewhere. I first met Mordred at Caerleon on the tourney field three years ago. He took to fighting well and once nearly unhorsed me but I defeated him. All the younger knights were comrades. He and I were friends of a sort."

Corinna shuddered inside and muttered, "It will not pay to be his friend, one day."

Both Allwyn and Rhian looked at her, but she walked away to find some water and be on her own awhile. The gravity of the situation hit her like a stunning blow, and it weighed on her mind, how she had stopped Allwyn from killing the stranger knight. If he had killed him, Arthur's reign might have lasted indefinitely. If she had known then who he was, would she have stopped...? Emery's warning flashed before her clouded vision. "You can not change the course of history. Do not try." She sighed deeply, put it from her thoughts and followed Rhian to the castle to help care for Allwyn. Somehow, she would find out if he had indeed climbed the perilous Wall to come for her.

Chapter 11

Partridge made a succulent dish when the cooks at Falconaire baked the meat in golden crusts garnished with parsley, but Corinna found she was more worried than hungry since the return from Dunmoor. She made her excuses of feeling tired and left the table before the king and his guests came into the hall.

The firepits flickered across the courtyard and the night air was balmy, and scented from lilacs and lavender newly in bloom. Beautiful strains of music held her spellbound as her eyes moved to the source. Telyn sat on the fountain stone with his harp, and an instrument that resembled a dulcimer was held by a willowy, pale-blonde girl beside him.

Many soldiers and village dwellers and their womenfolk had gathered around. The fair girl began singing to Telyn's haunting melody, trilling a love ballad that was well suited for her high, mellow voice. Corinna recognized her as his intended bride, Kieva.

She wandered over to stand alone in a flowering arbor beside the outer wall. Beldaran had preserved and restored old Roman artifacts from his grandfather's villa, such as decorated tile, a few cracked statues and a small floral pool. She admired every detail of these remnants from the days of the Empire. Rhian had told with a chuckle how once in high summer she found several little children happily splashing in the water of the lily pool, some of them stark naked.

Corinna buried her nose in a bunch of vining honeysuckle and inhaled the sweet scent of the new buds, hoping she could just stay hidden out here until the bishop that was to consecrate the marriage rode away. "I’ve got to do something! How am I going to handle this?" She asked herself aloud, looking up into the velvety, star strewn sky.

"By telling him the truth, that you do not wish to marry him." A low voice growled out of nowhere, and she whirled around to find herself face to face with Allwyn, who had been standing under the branches of a willow tree. She blanched. Did this man haunt the shadows everywhere she went?!

She lifted her chin, steadied her breathing and said, "It is not so simple as that, Prince." Allwyn just stood there with his legs planted wide apart as on the day she first saw him, and glared at her. She glared back, exclaiming indignantly, "Hey, the man saved my life! He has been tolerant of my ways which are unusual to everyone else here, and he is very thoughtful. He's too good a man to hurt that way. And...I really do care for him."

The prince folded his long arms, shook his head and said caustically, "It will take more than that. Gratitude and caring as one does for a friend or father will not warm a marriage bed. You will be but a lonely showpiece, for my father is much more concerned with diversions such as hunting, than the needs of a wife. His falcons and hounds and the mistress or two in the cities will soon take precedence over you, and once the novelty wears off, he will lead his life as usual."

This what sounded like sarcastic belittlement of her worth angered Corinna. She bit out, "You...contemptuous, cold, bitter...man, or whatever you are! Where do you get off talking to me this way? Are you jealous that I will be your father's queen?!"

"Of you? Hardly. He is strict to old customs and will allow no say to a woman."

"Oh? It seems he allows Lady Rhain her say in most matters around here."

"That is different..." He glared icily again and was silent, his face moody in the shadows.

Her curiosity then prompted her to ask, "What is all this talk about a...Golden Stag?"

To her surprise, Allwyn politely answered her question, "’Tis a bright chestnut colored hart. Rumored to be quite beautiful, it is." Then he added with a touch of bitterness, "Therefore, our noblemen seek to destroy it."

"So it is just an ordinary deer?"

"Any deer with supposed magical protection is a mythical animal, I am inclined to think. Although a few hunters, including my esteemed sire, claim to have pursued it into the deep woods, where it disappeared into thin air. Even Arthur the High King once hunted it in the Forest of the Charmed with his men, they say, and the dogs were lost suddenly, gone without a trace and never found." He smiled slightly, " Most of our people fear to venture into that particular forest, so it is only word of a few that the Golden Stag is real."

His eyes turned hard again. "Back to my question, when are you going to tell him the truth?"

Corinna appraised his darkened face in apprehension, then she lashed out with sarcasm of her own, "Of course! Tell him everything and risk condemnation to a fate like the Dunstone villagers almost sent me to! Do you hate me so much that you wish for that?"

He gazed at her and his voice shook slightly, "I do not hate you..."

Her tone became mocking, "I'll just prostrate myself at the king’s feet and tell him my uncle is a...sorcerer, who sent me back in time hundreds of years before I even knew what was happening, and dropped me, an innocent, into this mess! Think he will buy it?"

They stood face to face, a challenge burning in their eyes, their bodies almost touching in the confinement at the narrow end of the arbor. Allwyn's whole attitude seemed to change, then. He remained silent, just staring at her thoughtfully. His shadowed eyes came to hold a kind of wonder in them, and he slowly reached to touch her cheek. "I fought it...but...I knew it was you...I knew you were touched with the magic. The Wise Woman told me it was destiny. I asked her advice after I saw a woman like you in my dreams, only a few days before you arrived."

"I also thought it was you I saw in dreams before I came here. But now I don’t trust you," she said sadly, "any more than you trust me." But, as he gazed at her silently, she thought his eyes mirrored her own sadness, and more, it seemed he was sorry for his accusations.

"Perhaps it should not be so," he said softly. She wondered why was there such a magnetic force about him, so powerful she could almost believe anything he said to her. She was trembling with the desire to touch his solemn face. "You spoke to the Wise Woman?" she questioned tentatively, recalling Rhian had spoken of this particular seeress. "You...don't think of her as a witch?"

He did not reply but reached and softly traced her cheek with a forefinger, then curved his long hand at the back of her neck, and he reached for the pearl threaded queche that bound her hair. He loosed it with ease, spilling the dark waves over her satiny white shoulders. His eyes blazed into hers with increasing fire as he wound his fingers through her hair. He pressed his other hand behind her waist and drew her against him.

Allwyn marveled at how soft and silky her body felt beneath his hands. He almost choked on the ache of suppressed longing that arose in his throat, and then he sought her beautiful mouth with desperation.

Corinna felt his heart beat strong and fast against her breasts as her whole body ignited, flared with wanting. Now, in this moment, all their pretending disdain, verbal dueling and cool, averted glances were for naught, she realized, trembling excitedly as their lips came together in a long and passionate kiss. He was trembling, too, she could feel it as his hands moved around to caress her breasts through the linen bodice.

She whispered in abandoned, wild need of him, "Oh, Wyn..please..." His lips parted and clasped tightly to hers and then moved over her throat, hungry and hotly demanding. She stroked his lustrous dark locks, desperately wanting, needing to feel his mouth all over her naked skin. "Can we slip away to my room?" she breathed the question, and felt him hesitate, then his mouth sought hers again and their bodies shifted to fit together perfectly.

Suddenly, cruelly, he tore himself away and stepped back, panting. He grated out, "No! Stay away from me! What have you done, placed some kind of spell on me?! Have you inherited your kinsman's powers?!"

Corinna experienced the sharpest of disappointments, and felt deserted and suddenly cold, her body still aching with the unbelievable desire he had unleashed. Then she became furious. "I wish I had powers! Right now, I would turn you into the beast you are! Maybe my uncle dabbles in magic, like a wizard, so what? He would have meant well, and I assure you, I had no control over my journey here! I couldn't inherit any such powers," she protested hotly, "Emery is only my uncle by marriage, he is not a blood relative! I'm not royalty, either! I come from the twentieth century, from a country where people are independent and there are no warrior kings who control their lands and destiny! That’s right, the truth is that I come from a future time. You and your family are long buried history and King Arthur is only a legend read about in books! My world is modern. Where...fast carriages made of steel pollute the air on mad, paved roadways, and cities are huge and dangerous and overcrowded, and everyone communicates by phone lines, and some kill each other with guns! Oh, Prince, you could never understand it or believe me, so, just leave me alone!"

Emotions overcame her pride, and she brushed away the tears angrily. She whirled and ran from him, back toward the firelight and the merry songsters where she felt safe.

"You are wrong! I do understand..." he called from the darkness behind her. "Be you witch or time voyager, you are not like one of us! You must see that you cannot marry him."

No one knows that better than I, Prince, she thought bitterly as she put still more distance between them and moved into the group of people in the courtyard. I will just have to muster all my courage and tell Beldaran no, I can’t, I won’t marry him.

The king had summoned Corinna to the main hall. Terra came to her room holding a soft yellow gown, and proceeded to do her hair up in pearl sewn ribbons. She walked rather slowly through the courtyard, wondering what her chances might be if she somehow got past the gate guard and bolted into the meadows. Beldaran, dressed in a rich purple robe over a white toga, met her with a smile. "You are looking quite lovely, " he commented, and taking her arm he escorted her proudly to the dais. "Will ye wear my betrothal ring, dear lady?" he inquired softly.

She could not do it. Not here in front of his family and people of the court whose respect he commanded. She must arrange to speak with him alone, and tell him she would not be his wife. Then, who could tell what would happen? She would have to trust Emery to bring her home.

She allowed him to slip the ring on her finger, and before the entire the royal court, their betrothal was blessed by the Bishop. Rhian kissed both her brother and Corinna on the cheek and wished them every happiness and good fortune. Corinna felt just a hint of reserve in her words.

Telyn and his intended, Kieva, saluted them also, then joined some minstrel friends to play their instruments in a lilting melody. Many of those gathered began to dance, whirling merrily over the newly swept floor. The king ordered more ale, wine and sweets from the kitchen, and toasts were made all around.

The more the men drank, it seemed, the louder their boasts and laughter became. The stoic Bishop Padric of Caerleon, not much approving of revelry, had departed with his cleric entourage some time ago.

At the height of the festivities, captain Marlon's wife and two more of the soldiers' women approached the king's chair, carrying a colorful tapestry half the size of a chamber wall. They presented it to him. The captain helped them unfold it, saying proudly, "My wife is the most accomplished seamstress at Falconaire, and see what handiwork she and her women have been about! Bring more candles here!" A servant came and placed a crosstree of burning tapers beside the table.

Gasps of awe and cheers went up. The tapestry was of exquisite hues and detail; a scene depicting the king in the forest with the Golden Stag before him. The great hart knelt on it's forelegs and the king's spear was about to hit its final mark.

Corinna regarded the cloth as exceptional handiwork, sure, but not in the best of taste subject wise, and she hoped that the big golden deer, if it really did exist, would elude it's hunters always. Beldaran lifted his cup and cried, "Splendid needlework, my gracious ladies! And in my gratitude, I shall place it on the wall of my bedchamber! It will remind me that I can indeed take the greatest trophy in the forest, if I persevere!" With a gleam in his eye, he looked at his captains and added, "Then, having done that, I shall return and claim another great trophy...my beautiful new queen!"

The men cheered, pounded the tables and boisterously voiced approval of the remark. Corinna felt her face flush in annoyance, thinking not much had changed from this time to hers. She waited until all eyes turned to an entertaining pair of bards, then she slipped from the room. "Please tell the king I feel weary and must retire for the night," she bade a servant woman, and then hurried up to her chamber and bolted the door.

The warmth of spring had suddenly given way to a final gasp of old man winter. The cold mist swirled in white wraiths around the towers, giving the fortress a ghostly air. Allwyn practiced at swordplay on the field behind the wall until his muscles ached, then strode back inside and toward his chamber. He paused and glanced up at the window located three sets of steps above his head. It must be the one she occupied. That room was always reserved for visiting royalty or persons of importance, with the idea they would enjoy a view of the countryside from a high point. The Lady Corinna had chosen to sleep instead of breaking fast this morning, one of the servant girls told him with a smile upon his inquiry. Damn it anyway, the whole household was going to know and gossip, if he didn't stop asking about her.

Disgusted that he had loitered about hoping she would come out for a walk, he yanked his mantle around himself, went down the stairs and crossed the courtyard where the night guardsmen stood on duty. They were warming their hands at the fire and spoke, "Good morn, Prince" to him, their breath coming out in frosty clouds.

Allwyn waited on the battlement until one of his riders came in with the news he had dreaded. Later, he found his father with the advisor Corman in the scriptorium. "Where is the exalted bishop?" he asked sardonically.

"The Bishop Cardew is a bit indisposed this morning," replied Beldaran, "and he is not the only one! I have a headache the size of a dragon myself. How about you, Sir Corman?"

The king's advisor agreed, "I believe we drank old Ahearn's ale vats dry last night."

Beldaran groaned, "We should plan the Stag's hunt for another day...I believe a nap is in order."

Corman chuckled, "By all means, let our king nap. You shall hunt on the morrow, then."

Allwyn slammed his fist on the table and yanked a rolled vellum map in front of Beldaran. "By the God you worship! You sit at the high seat of Somersea, with an army of invaders poised out there somewhere, awaiting the chance to take it all! An army that apparently redoubles with each retreat. We kill many, and they grow stronger still!" He continued sarcastically, "They would be wise to attack us now, for victory would surely be theirs!" He snatched two daggers from the wall, slammed the points into the table to hold flat the curling map, and addressed Beldaran. "All you talk of at this council table is drinking and revelry and hunting a stupid faerie tale deer! What has happened to you, Great War Falcon? Must I battle the Black Marauder's forces without your aid?!"

"My son...brave Sir Allwyn..." Beldaran pressed his hands to his temples. "We have driven them away, my men and I. Their ships were fast and many survived, but that does not mean they will come again."

Allwyn's voice was tinged with anger, "I say they will! I say build faster ships and follow them this time! To the ends of the earth, if need be. Follow them," he looked at Corman and said slowly and deliberately, "right to the dragon's lair, destroy it, and defeat them for good."

Both the King and his advisor knew that Allwyn wanted the kill, the end of the Dark Knight so badly he could taste it.

Corman pursed his thin lips and studied him. "I believe you may be right, my Liege," he nodded, "but it is the heathen armies such as the Vandali that I fear more. We must form alliances with our neighbors to protect us."

Beldaran groaned, still clutching his head, "You sound as if you relish the prospect of war. I have other things on my mind. I became weary of battle long ago. You neither have seen long sieges of dying cities in the blazing sun nor campaigns in the bitter ice and snow, nor thousands slain on the blood soaked moors as I have, or you would not make war sound like sport. I want only harmony and peace for Somersea."

Corman said bluntly, "It is this foreign woman's presence clouding your judgment. I strongly advise you, Your Highness, as your trusted old friend, to send her away and marry someone else with a dowry rich enough to secure a great army. I am concerned with defenses, since we sit on a coastal point where a foreign enemy may land at any time."

Beldaran sighed in exasperation and looked to Allwyn for support, but the prince said slowly, "Yes, he is right, father. Send her home, she is not for you."

Beldaran could only glare at both men. He said emphatically, "Ever did it occur to you that your king may be in love again, at last, after all these years? Yes, that is the way of it. I look at her and the blood of a young rogue courses through these veins. I am not so old yet as to be blind and senseless! Have you not seen her skin, how it is radiant like the softest satin, and how her hair shimmers in the sun like a blackbird's wing? Have you never noticed her luscious smile or looked into her eyes...oh, those sea green eyes! I swear, when I am with her I feel happy and carefree as a youth of twenty summers!"

Aye, Allwyn thought, and he turned away from the most profound confession he had ever heard his father make, as a bitter knot twisted in his stomach. I have seen all these things about her and more...and there lies great trouble for me...mayhap for all of us.

Then, willing himself to steely control again, he shoved all thoughts of her aside and bent over the map of coastal lands to the north. "We must gather our forces and rout these marauders before all else, or one day, no man, woman or child in this countryside can dwell and work in safety," he declared grimly.

King Beldaran escorted Corinna for a walk along the causeway on an idyllic spring morning. The birds trilled in the flowering bushes and the geese fed on lush greens along the water. He took up her hand and kissed it, then he slipped a carved gold band on her finger. "Your wedding ring, my love," he said with sparkling blue eyes. "I wanted to see it would fit, and if not, I shall have Ewan the crafter change it."

"It is fine, it is quite beautiful," Corinna said. "But, sir, I need to talk with you about..."

Beldaran kissed her forehead gently. "At another time, my dearest, I have much to see to."

"This evening then," she called after him, and he replied, "Yes. ‘Til then, my lady, have you a good day." He strode away with a buoyant step and left her standing alone on the walkway.

Around mid morning, the king gathered his hunting party, his hounds, and the swiftest horses together, and they rode from the gates. Rhian came from seeing him off, to Corinna, who sat by the arbor stitching up a small boy's torn tunic. The king's sister seemed troubled.

"Lord Beldaran has become obsessed once again with finding and killing the great hart in the Black Forest, where it is supposed to come feeding every spring. I tried to dissuade him, to no avail. Ach! Men and their pride, always wanting to achieve what no other one has!"

Corinna looked up from her bench beside the garden wall. "Is there such an animal, do you think?"

Rhian replied after a moment, "Some of the villagers who hunt often, and the hill folk, too, claim it is enchanted, and immortal. They say it takes refuge in the Forest of the Charmed, that it is protected by powers there. Some say because the deer has a special magic, it is guarded by a sage, and his wife who is a healer I am acquainted with. My kinsman Telyn claims to have seen it once in the woods near the abbey where he goes to read and write letters. It is merely a deer, a large, brightly colored stag, he says, probably old and wise to the follies of the men who hunt him. Therefore he is very elusive. "

Rhian smiled then, "Speaking of Telyn, he and Kieva are going to marry just after the Maying celebration. Perhaps their wedding and yours to my brother could be on the same day. What a feast I should have to plan if this were to happen!"

Corinna stopped lay aside her needlework and took a deep breath. It was time to tell her. But at that moment the king's sister excused herself and said, "I shall go see to it that Allwyn has provisions and a warm cloak for his journey north."

"Oh? Sir Allwyn is going away?" Corinna made it sound an offhand question, but in astonishment realized that she ached inside at the thought of his leaving.

"He says he goes to oversee some shipbuilding on the River Hafren," Rhian said with worry creeping into her voice, "but, I believe he rides again to find the Dark Knight..."

"He wants to kill him?" Corinna cringed inside, reminding herself there was that side to him. These times called for survival and peace brought by war, but she hated the idea that killing was the answer.

The king’s sister replied, "As obsessed with it as Beldaran is about finding the Golden Stag. But, not without reason aplenty..." Rhian tucked a straying lock of golden hair back in her combs and suddenly there was an 'I've said too much' look on her face. She gestured carelessly, "Why should we concern ourselves with the men's doings when we have plenty to keep us busy right here? Excuse me, I must see to the candle dipping. There are never enough candles for this household."

She left quickly, going down the steps in a swirl of skirts to disappear inside.

Chapter 12

In the hazy warmth of mid-afternoon, Corinna leaned back on her bench in the shade of the vine covered wall. She thought again about bits of conversation she had overheard among the men in the hall last night:

"Find the Dark Knight and kill him or take him prisoner...and then his war band will flee back into the north, from whence he recruited them."

''Many of his archers are Picti tribesmen, and I saw Siluri, Visgoths and Angli, as well. He has no doubt promised them great rewards in gold or jewels for their fighting....Where the hell have they hidden their stronghold?"

"This Black Marauder has a formidable army, made up of fugitives from the hills and rabble from the cities that exiled them. If they come in any greater force, we shall have to solicit aid from the High King..."

Hearing the clatter of hoofbeats, Corinna ran to the wall and climbed the steps to look. The prince rode his black stallion across the causeway, alone, in plain armor and shield, a sword at his side. His helm and pack were strapped to the saddle. Her gaze remained fixed on his straight form swaying with the gait and his dark locks flying as he galloped away toward the forest.

"Oh, and what a sight he is, too," sighed a girlish voice beside her. "Many is the time I stood here and watched him ride away, and dreamed foolishly."

"Terra! Haven't you better things to talk about than that?" Corinna exclaimed. A bit embarrassed at being caught, she added, "I was just thinking the Prince had better be careful about going north alone."

"Aye. There have been raids and plundering, they say. But Sir Allwyn fears no one, and he is still on that driven quest to find..."

Terra had the same look come upon her face as Rhian had, and, like her, immediately changed the subject. She held out a platter of hot buttered oak cakes.

"I baked these while Gwenith was attending her sick child. Have several."

Obligingly Corinna took a couple, bit in bravely and attempted to chew, thinking the dear girl must have left them on the fire a bit too long. Talking around a mouthful of cinders wasn't easy, but she queried insistently, "...A quest to find who? Is it this Dark Knight I've heard spoken of? Tell me, Terra! I promise strict confidence between friends, okay?"

The girl sighed, wrung her hands, and looking up to the sky she murmured, "Forgive me for not keeping my word." Then she took a seat on a square of stone and began the sad tale of how Allwyn's mother, and her entire traveling party had been robbed and killed five years hence.

The girl related with wide, solemn eyes, "It wasn't too far from here, Lady, on the road to the abbey, just past those yon dark hills. They departed from here with treasures, tools and moneys for building the monastery and... Poor Sir Allwyn's young wife, Ariana, who was with child, insisted she would accompany them with a gift of her own from her Cornish people. Even though they rode with several armed men as escort, all were slain in the wood."

Corinna gave an audible gasp of pity, and her hand covered her mouth. "Oh, god... I didn't know! Why did no one tell me about his wife and baby?! Why didn't he tell me? No wonder he's been so...so bitter." Her throat tightened painfully.

Terra sighed, "My father said it is the guilt that eats away at his soul. He blamed himself for being off on a sporting hunt with the noblemen instead of beside his wife that day. They say he went off alone to weep, and when the others found him, he stood and swore to them that never again would the dark brigands do to any family what they had done to his."

Corinna felt her eyes stinging. Her heart ached sharply for Allwyn, her mind imagining the suffering he must have gone through. Small wonder his eyes always seemed haunted, his face hard and cold.

Terra said quietly, "He forbade any words uttered about that day from anyone here, and he became such a hellion that we surely feared to disobey him."

"I...see."

Yes, she saw everything so much more clearly now. She suddenly wanted to be alone. "Terra, I have not been to the chapel, could you show me the way? I...want to...think, and pray for his safety."

The two of them walked down to the village together, crossing the stone lined footbridge.

Abbot Tullias was visiting that day, and he received her inside the little white chapel with its one stained glass window. The priest also came and blessed her and prayed with her awhile as a single taper candle burned down to its clay sconce. She looked up when the prayer ended and inquired of the abbot, "Do you have any idea where the Prince would go looking for his enemy, or where he might stop for rest?"

The abbot replied, "I heard him say once he would search the Black Forest until there was no inch of the place left to search. It is a vast territory, and I wouldn't be surprised if he has visited the monastery and accepted lodging with the brothers, or perhaps is at one of the farming villages. I too shall pray for his safety." He made the sign of the cross and left her.

When Corinna emerged from the dark little church, she heard hoofbeats on the bridge and looked up hopefully. But it was only the Bishop Cardew, his long velvet robes spread across his horse’s rump, riding toward the forest in the same direction as Allwyn had. Terra joined her at the footbridge. Before they reached the outer wall, another rider in a dark cloak followed the Bishop. He was armed with a long sword and a belted dagger. For an instant the wind pushed the cowl away from his face.

"Isn't that the council advisor Corman going also?" Corinna asked aloud, "I thought he would have gone on the king's hunt, like the other noblemen."

"I expect Corman is the bishop's escort across the Black Forest," Terra said, "I have heard tell it is not safe even for holy men in these times."

Corinna tried hard to stop thinking about Allwyn. The following morning she worked in the garden purposefully until she was tired. After she had bathed and dressed, she finished her sewing and took the shirt to the little boy's mother. The soldier's wife gave her thanks, saying that with six children, she scarcely had time to cook, let alone sew. At that moment, there came a great commotion of a horn blowing and shouts at the gate. The huge iron braced timbers were raised by a winchman, allowing the royal hunting party to clamber through.

Aleric was shouting frantically, pointing to the wagon. She couldn't make out his words from here. "Something is wrong," Corinna exclaimed, "What...?"

The soldier's wife peered out from her doorway, "I do not see the King, do you?"

Corinna realized that Beldaran’s favorite gray stallion was being led in, riderless, by a squire. Then, the men lifted a still form wrapped in a cloak from the wagon, and carried it toward the castle hall. "Find Lady Rhian! Summon the physician!" Aleric shouted. She knew then with piercing dread that something had happened to Beldaran.

She ran through the interior until she found Rhian in the spinning room. "It's Beldaran! He's been hurt, I think!" Rhian followed her, summoning two serving women to come as they hurried to the royal chamber, and there, a flurry of orders and explanations were hurled about. Rhian shooed away the men gathered around the king's bed. Someone had torn back his tunic and linen shirt, exposing a puncture in his chest that oozed blood. His clothing had already become soaked with it. From his pale skin and unconscious state, it appeared he had lost too much on the long way home.

Rhian ordered the women to fetch hot water and cotton cloths. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tended the wound and tried to stop the bleeding.

"What happened," Corinna asked of Aleric, who stood in the doorway. She saw the worry and fear embedded in his pale face.

"He...the king...charged into the thickets ahead of us, on the heels of the stag. We heard the dogs yelping and a great commotion in the underbrush. We had to dismount and make our way in on foot. By the time we found him, he was limp. The stag got him..." He gestured helplessly at his lord lying silent and gray under Rhian's coverlet. Aleric's words were tinged with bitterness, "That damn witched hart got away from us, even with several arrows in him."

Rhian came to them, her mouth in a terse line and her eyes terribly worried. "The wound is very bad, perhaps it was to a vital part, and it is too deep for closing. The bleeding has stopped, but I fear for him."

She looked at Corinna and said steadily, "I must send a rider to fetch the Wise Woman in the Forest of the Charmed and another to bring the physician from Bracken Fen. I ask you, go send one of the scouts to find Allwyn, say to bring him quickly. If even the healing woman's efforts are to no avail..." Her hands began to tremble, the woman that had been steady as a rock.

Her heart in her throat, Corinna ran back to the soldier's wife and relayed the message.

A fast horse was led from the stables by the woman's husband, and Allwyn's best scout galloped from the gates moments later.

Throughout the night, Rhian stayed beside her brother. The physician came in again with his bag of leeches, and later shook his head, saying he had done all that he could. Corinna helped a nun fetch supplies for a poultice and then helped Rhian, while the king's breathing became more and more shallow. He had never once regained consciousness.

At dawn, a woman carrying two hide pouches entered the royal bedchamber. She was clothed in a dove gray, fur-trimmed mantle over a patchwork skirt and green kirtle. Corinna, in astonishment, recognized her as the woman who had sold her the silver pendant at the marketplace. Her dark gypsy looks and the serene countenance that reminded her of Adele seemed even more mysterious in the flickering candlelight.

The woman spoke softly with Rhian, and Corinna perceived they had known each other for some time. As the healer bent over the King, holding up a rush light to better see the wound, Rhian turned to Corinna with a small ironic smile, "Oh, how Beldaran would howl at this! He denounced the ways of the Old Ones, even the white magic...when he took up Christianity, and would have none of the Faerie kind around here."

"But you...you think she can do what a physician can’t?"

"I have seen Sylva heal the hopelessly sick ones in the village. Not only that, she has the sight, so they say. There are still a few of them left, seers who can know of events even before they have occurred. Forgive me. I had in mind to ask if my brother is going to..."

Corinna saw that Rhian's eyes were bleary, and her colorless hands were shaking. She insisted to the older woman, "Look, you are exhausted. Go rest awhile, I will call you if there's any change, or if he should awaken." Rhain thanked her and slowly left the room, her gaze lingering on Beldaran.

The healing woman, Sylva, hovered over the king's pale body, murmuring a strange sounding, soft chant over and over as she administered herbs that she took from the belt pouch at her waist. The fire burned low, and Corinna found a servant to bring more wood. In the light from a brighter blaze, Sylva peered at the king's chest. "Ah. I saw it, truly." She said it as if she had just confirmed something to herself.

"What is it?" Corinna exclaimed, rising from the bench. The woman, who was about Rhian's age, her face neither young nor old, stepped back and touched a faceted crystal ornament that hung on a leather string around her neck. Her golden eyes glowed in the firelight, then she closed them and swayed back and forth. At last she opened her eyes and said somberly, "I cannot change his fate. He will die. It is the will of the Divine One."

"No!" Corinna cried out, clutching the woman's sleeve. "You must do something!"

"There is nothing to be done, child," the Wise Woman said quietly, "treasure the memories you have of this great man."

Corinna hissed, "You're a fake! You're no healer! I'll get the physician!" She ran out and rapped on the door down the hall, and the doctor followed her, blinking his sleepy eyes all the way to the king's chambers. He examined the silent king once again, cleared his throat and his eyes looked very sad when he told her the leeching had been useless. There was bleeding inside, probably a punctured lung, and there had been too much blood lost on the trip home.

A white robed sister comforted her quietly as she cried. How ironic, Corinna thought, that all along she had been trying to contrive a way to avoid this marriage. Now, a way out she never would have asked for had come by a twist of fate. She clenched her fists helplessly. If only it could be changed... But, the doctor’s words held a certainty that it was useless to hope.

When the physician had gone, Sylva sat on the chest opposite Corinna's bench and the strange, beautiful gold eyes studied her a moment.

She said softly, "Lady, I feel I can trust you with this. Your King was not stabbed by the horn of the Great Stag."

"What!? Then how..."

"Some of the knights in the King's council carry a long, thin bladed weapon. I saw two men attack the King and struggle with him, and one used such a sword to impale him. It was all planned and the sword was rubbed with a deadly poison."

"How could you know this?! Did you see it in your crystal ball or something?"

Sylva ignored Corinna's sarcasm and said calmly, "I was there. They chased the Golden Stag close to my home, in the Forest of the Charmed. I had warned them before, the stag is ever protected by the powers there, and once again it proved to be so. I watched from a hedging and I saw it all. They surprised Beldaran in the thicket and attacked him before his men arrived. I ran after the Stag, hoping to remove the arrows, this after I saw the two men in dark clothes and hoods slip away into the forest."

"Did you recognize them?" Corinna was still doubtful, but the truth in the woman's voice caused her hands to clasp until the nails cut into her palms.

Sylva replied, "Their faces were covered by hoods with holes for the eyes, and they wore no emblems on their garments. I saw that one man wore a large golden cross on a silver chain, when it fell out from the front of his cloak. A cross such as the holy brothers wear, I think."

Corinna looked at her, trying to fathom everything she had been told. Was she suggesting that a monk or priest wanted to kill the king? She struggled to disbelieve the woman, but Sylva's voice and eyes seemed very honest.

She asked thoughtfully, "Would you know this cross if you saw it again, worn by a man?"

"I believe so, lady. There are not many crafted with so much gold as that...it must come from an eastern land. I shall tell this to only one besides you, and that one is Allwyn the Defender. Surely he will return."

"And why should either of us believe you, a supposed healer who cannot even save this man? " Corinna, in her despair, could not help lashing out at someone. She regretted the words even as they left her mouth, realizing even the most skilled modern physicians could have done little for a wound like Beldaran's.

"If I had know in time, perhaps, before his life’s blood was spent on the journey back..." The Wise Woman said quietly. "I shall go and find Lady Rhian in the church." She rose with a rustling of soft robes and glided down the dark hall, leaving Corinna alone with the pale, silent king.

She paced the floor, and pushed back the window tapestry of a beautiful scene with the sun rising above the velvety green forest. Outside, the day seemed to be going dark. She glanced at the still form on the bed and whispered fervently, "His son must return!" Oh, Allwyn, please come swiftly and safely. The thought then occurred to her...if the Wise Woman was telling the truth, the prince could be in danger from the same assassins who wished to kill his father! She needed the Wise Woman's help, how could she have driven her away?! Corinna leapt off the bench and ran down the hall.

She hurried into the courtyard, inquiring after Sylva, wanting to tell her she was sorry for saying such things in an unthinking moment of anger and grief. She found her at the gate, already mounted on a Welsh pony. "Please come back," Corinna implored, " the king needs you, and I didn't mean..."

The Wise Woman cut short her apology, saying curtly, "I can do no more here. I don't need your words, lady, but I could use your help elsewhere."

"Yes. Just show me what to do."

Sylva asked a stableboy to saddle a second horse for Corinna. They cantered away into the forest without the Wise Woman telling her more than, "You need not be afraid, and I don't think you are a squeamish one. Therefore I entrust you to aid me."

They rode at a fast pace for perhaps an hour on the Abbey road, then were slowed when they entered the forest. Lost in her worries about the king, and where Allwyn might be and if he was all right, Corinna turned, startled at the sound of distant thunder. She saw that the western sky had grown dark and ominous. "It is the portent," Sylva spoke quietly beside her. "The final hours of a great king are approaching."

At any other time, any other place, Corinna might have scoffed at this. Now she pleaded desperately, " If he is to die soon, I want to go back! Now!"

"There will be enough time, child," the Wise Woman said in a soothing tone. "Come,

follow closely."

Corinna reined her horse to fall in behind Sylva's as they entered a dense thicket. The horses tried to balk and rear, and vision became difficult as they entered a glade bathed in strange twilight. She felt a tremor go up her spine when the Wise Woman murmured some words that seemed to flow together, over and over, with her arms uplifted to the darkening sky.

Corinna clung to her horse's mane as they suddenly plunged into a tunnel-like rock formation, and on the other side the cold wind rushed and the huge black trees swirled all around them. And then, she knew they were not in the same forest anymore, and turned to question the Wise woman. Sylva was pointing to a clearing where a pool of silver light shone down, from where Corinna could not imagine, because the branches were so thick overhead. As they came closer, she saw a stand of white, tall wildgrass, and then she gasped. A huge deer with a formidable rack of antlers lay there on its side, and there were two arrows buried deep in its shoulder, more in its belly. The bright chestnut sides rose and fell with the stag's slow breathing.

They dismounted, and Corinna whispered, "The Golden Stag?..."

"So they call him," the Wise Woman said in a low, grim voice. She took some small pouches from her saddlebags. "I shall take the arrows out and dress the wounds with healing extraction. I need for you to stroke his neck and talk to him soothingly. Have no fear, he is too weak to harm you."

Corinna felt sympathy indeed for the animal brought down by male trophy-seekers, but she also kept thinking of how she should be at the King's bedside. If there was anything she could do for the man who saved her life... Her innermost thoughts were of Allwyn. Had he been told yet? What would he do if he found his father had been attacked by assassins? He could be King of Somersea now! Somehow, she did not think he would want that.

She gently touched the deer's dark velvety nose, and he looked at her with an opalescent brown eye that seemed very wise. She ran her hand along his bright neck and as if she spoke to a horse, murmured, "it's OK, boy, it will be all right. This Wise Woman will make you well again..."

"Grasp his antlers tightly, hold his head down," Sylva ordered.

It took every ounce of Corinna's will and strength as the great animal, although weakened,

tired to raise his head and thrash about. She feared Sylva would be caught by the flailing sharp hooves. The bloody arrows came out, and when the healing plant extracts were applied to his wounds, the stag settled down and seemed to breathe normally. Then Sylva placed both hands on the deer, one on his head, one on the ribs over his heart, and chanted for a long while. Corinna listened to the thunder rumbling in the west and pulled her cloak tightly around her body.

"Will the stag live?" she asked the Wise Woman as they mounted their horses.

"I believe it will be so," Sylva replied, then added with a small, ironic smile. "He will

yet outlive the many foolish hunters who pursue him."

At the edge of the clearing, Corinna looked back and her eyes widened. The great deer had risen to his feet. His magnificent, proud form moved into the pool of silver, glowing with a strange shimmering appearance. His antlers seemed alight with an ethereal, dancing white fire.

They left the wood, going through the dark tunnel and the black trees, and galloped across the meadow toward the Abbey road. Corinna remained silent, not sure what beautiful, uncanny thing she had witnessed back there. At the same time she felt a sense of triumph knowing that something good had come of the whole unfortunate mess in the fateful hunt of the Golden Stag. Now, she must return to a time of sorrow and face the loss of the man who had saved her.

Atop the hill above Dunleah, the Wise Woman pointed out to Corinna the way back, saying, "I must return to my home and my husband. For now, do not tell the Prince what I told you, for he will seek out the killers. If the evils lurks at Falconaire, his own life could be in danger! He will need me to explain more than one thing to him. When Allwyn has rested a little from his grief, send him to me."

"I will," Corinna promised. She waved farewell and turned her horse onto the Abbey road, in the direction of Falconaire.

Rhian was in the room with Abbot Tullias when Corinna arrived, and they knelt at the bedside, as several monks in dun colored robes and nuns in white gathered around, all murmuring a long prayer in unison. They said the King had not opened his eyes, or even stirred once, and seeing this once proud, jovial man reduced to this made Corinna heartsick. There was nothing more they could do except hope that Allwyn would return in time, before his father slipped into eternity.

She stumbled into a nearby chamber and sank into the small bed, soon drifting into a troubled sleep. She cried out his name when she saw Allwyn astride the black stallion, riding like a madman through the dark trees and splashing across a bog of bracken water. The palfrey's hooves thundered along the old Roman road as he was lashed by his master to desperate speed. Allwyn's dark, intense face burned in her mind as she sat up gasping. Only a dream, Corinna realized, and with a sigh fell back into the down pillows.

It must have been a few hours later when she woke, shivering again at the sound of ominous thunder outside. She went to the casement and saw the black storm cloud still hovered over the horizon, and then the wind began to whip the trees with wild fury. The castle became so dark that she had to light a triple candle sconce borrowed from the kitchen. She hurried toward Beldaran's chamber. A white robed nun met her in the hall, saying, "The lady Rhian has just gone. She goes to the church to pray with the abbot."

At the door, Corinna stopped in her tracks and her heart thudded in her chest. Allwyn was there alone with his back to the door. He knelt beside his father's bed, his dark head was bent close, and he pleaded with his father to open his eyes. Suddenly, she heard the king trying to speak! At first she could not hear the hushed words, then she moved closer and understood as he said in a strained, unnatural voice, "...He is the one...your blood father, I swear it. I beg your forgiveness, my son...I should have told you. It was so like...we were true kindred...that you became so to me. I saw...no reason to tell anyone. No one else knows...except the seer woman and my dear Fiona, whom I shall go to in a little while. Ah, Fiona... My queen loved you as dearly as if you were her own child. Can you forgive me for...my silence in the years past?"

"Aye, father..." After a pause Allwyn's hoarse whisper echoed in the dim chamber, "You were the grandest father any boy could have asked for...I love you." He placed his hand over the king's.

Beldaran whispered, "I love you, son. Remember me and our time together well. The people need you...You have strength to carry on..."

Outside, the thunder crashed, lightening flashes snaked through the window hangings. Corinna saw by the flickering candlelight that the king smiled. Then his eyes stared at nothing.

She thought her heart would break. She stood watching Allwyn's shoulders shaking with the sobs he would voluntarily let no one hear. Torn between wanting to comfort him and a fear of invading his privacy, she paused, then quickly turned to go. The pewter candelabra she held brushed against the door frame with a small tink. He whirled, and their eyes met and held, his burning, tortured gaze cutting to her very soul. She felt her throat go dry and her heart pounded wildly, as, more frightened by her own feelings than by him she turned and ran. She heard Allwyn's voice calling after her desperately, "Corinna!" She fled past two white robed sisters and a priest, and saw Allwyn motion them to the king's chamber. Then from the shadows she heard him calling still, and escaped from the hallway, hurrying up the maze of steps to the battlements where the damp wind snuffed out the candles.

"Corinna!!" His cry of pain, and anguish, and...need for her was more than she could take at this moment. She ducked into a vine draped alcove. But he found her and came to her on the rain drenched seat beside the wall. With a will of their own, as if it were the most natural thing, her arms reached out to hold him. She said nothing over the burning lump in her throat, but held him tight as he shuddered and tried to hold in his grief.

"How can this have happened?! Again?!...Again!!" he raised his head and cried angrily into the wind.

She asked softly, "Did anyone tell you how it happened?"

"Aleric said..." his voice choked, "...He said the stag attacked him because it was cornered."

"Did Beldaran tell you that also?"

"No. He was only able to tell me what you overheard, before..." He broke off and drop his head into his trembling hands.

When he had calmed, she smoothed back the tangled curls from his wet forehead and said softly, "I understand everything you're feeling... You have just had two shocks delivered at once. I know it's hard, I went through something like this when I was a child...when my parents both died suddenly."

"Tell me...what happened?" he whispered.

"They were killed in an accident while traveling on the highway." She knew he would not understand all of her words, but she saw in his pain filled eyes that he believed her.

And then they reached for each other, and clung tightly to each other, unmindful of the wind and rain that lashed at them until the storm subsided.

A little later, she took his hand and he followed her like a child, as if he didn't want to have to think about anything or make any decisions just now. She could hardly believe the change in him. He seemed beaten, drawn into himself, and his unshaven face was haggard.

Telyn rode in from his journey to the city and was informed of the tragic news. He and Keiva wept quietly for a long while in the garden. When he returned to them he asked, "Where is my dear cousin?"

They found Rhian kneeling in the chapel and comforted her. "Thank you for your kindness." she murmured, "I am strong, I guess. I have dealt with loss before." She said aside to Corinna, "I am given cause to wonder how Allwyn can cope with this, after everything before. I think you may be of help to him."

"Yes, I will try." She wanted to tell them what Sylva revealed to her, but she remembered the healer's request to send Allwyn to her before telling anyone.

They left Rhian and Telyn with their friend, the abbot, who would see to the preparation of the body. Corinna took Allwyn to the main hall and asked a teary-eyed Gwenith to fix some hot broth and bread.

"You are already weak from your long ride," Corinna urged him, "Please eat to keep your strength up." He gave no sign he even heard and slumped on a bench beside the table.

She kept away everyone who would speak with him, and as the evening went on they became several. Many felt the prince would be king now, and wanted to assure their places in his rule. She squared her shoulders and said what she felt must be said. "Let him rest and recover from this tragedy, please," she admonished them. "Hasn't he had enough to deal with for one day?"

Later, Bishop Cardew seemed to be almost lurking in the shadows outside the archway, and Corinna noticed the Advisor Corman's disapproving look when she took Allwyn off alone to the scriptorium. She bolted the door and sat with him, trying to make light conversation, talking of the good things she remembered about the king. Then, to distract his mind from the situation, she told him about her everyday life in the twentieth century; college, her job, the city, her aunt and uncle who lived on the beach. She even revealed how the magic light brought her to his time. When she finished, he said simply, "I don't know why you should be kind to me, I certainly never gave you reason...but I thank you now."

Corinna experienced amazement and relief that he found nothing wrong with her statement that she hailed from a time hundreds of years from his. Still, her heart ached for many reasons. She looked at him and said, "I wish there were some way I could help the family."

Allwyn could read in her eyes the loss she was also feeling. For the first time he could remember in years, a sense of tenderness filled him. For a moment he wanted only to protect her, to promise her she would always be cherished and safe, no matter where she came from or by what circumstances. He lowered his head until his dark stubbled jaw rested against her silken cheek. He drank in the soft lavender scent of her hair and marveled at the radiance of her skin in the glow of the waning fire. He shuddered inside, struck by how much he wanted to take her to his bed tonight and just lose himself... Then he tensed and moved away abruptly, wondering how he could think of such things when her intended husband, the great man who had fostered him, was so tragically ended and the rest of the family grieved. Just then someone tapped at the door. Telyn spoke briefly to his cousin about a ruling to settle a boundary dispute between two quarreling farmers. "You handle the matter, Telyn. You will do what you feel is right, " Allwyn said woodenly and bolted the door again.

He sat by the window, staring into the darkness. "I don't feel I have the right to give such commands, after learning I am not of the true royal family," he said.

Corinna searched for the rights words. "A king’s ward is ranked highly. Besides you are still the same man of good deeds, the brave protector of your people. They will look to you now more than ever." She remembered Sylva's words. "The Wise Woman asked that you visit her at her home in the forest, as soon as you feel up to it. She needs to talk to you."

He gazed back at her, nodded and drew a deep breath.

It frightened her, the way she wanted so much to hold him, to take him to her chamber and comfort him, make him forget everything, if only for awhile... But she stayed quiet and in control, there beside him if he needed a friend. At last, Allwyn moved from his chair. He took some wood from the stack, built a new fire and sank down on a bench in front of the hearth. He remained there, staring listlessly into the flames and barely sipping from the bowl of broth she offered.

She finally had to ask the one question that still troubled her. She hoped her curiosity would not upset him further. "Wyn...Whom did Beldaran tell you is your true father?"

As if he had come to terms with it, he replied quietly, "Lancelot."

Chapter 13

Corinna rode on her gray mare alongside the royal family, the group was surrounded by Beldaran's knights. Nobody spoke. She sat tense until she felt the silence must be broken somehow, and turned to Rhian with a hushed question, "How is it possible that Allwyn is Lancelot's son?"

Rhain spoke softly from behind her misty black veil, "If Beldaran told him so, it is true. My brother never mentioned it to me or to anyone that I know of."

Telyn said with a brief wry smile, "’Tis quite possible a man like Lancelot, whom the ladies sought after, has fathered more than one child. Not after his marriage, of course," he added quickly.

Then Telyn spoke seriously, "I wish Allwyn had not left us. It matters not whose child he was, I regard him as a kinsman, and now, he should be our leader. No one is better suited."

Rhain murmured assent. Corinna felt a cold knot forming in her stomach. Somehow she felt that if Allwyn were made Lord of Somersea, he would forever be a stranger to her. Yet, perhaps this was what Emery meant when he asked her to save the kingdom. Could her support and encouragement of Allwyn make a difference?

It was a hauntingly beautiful procession; the line of torches winding up the hill in the blackest of nights as a thousand mourners gathered. Some folk sang the new Christian songs of glory, others chanted the incantations of the Old Ones. Dark robed peasant women wailed plaintively, and men's voices rang somberly throughout the abbey grounds. Rhian had forgone the customary funeral pyre. In keeping with his chosen religion, their king would be laid to rest in a tomb near the small church, his name inscribed by the brothers who built it.

Corinna stood with Rhian, Telyn, and Kieva, among other veiled members of the royal court. The king's captains each wore a piece of black cloth tied around the sleeve of his tunic in tribute. The soldiers raised their swords in a farewell salute as the priest finished his eulogy, and the guard detail came forward to bear the wrapped body to its final resting place. Although her eyes searched anxiously, Corinna did not find Allwyn anywhere. No one had seen him since Beldaran's passing, and she was both hurt and angry at him. He should be here with his family.

He had left her immediately after revealing his foster father's long kept secret, and later a groom told her he had ridden away late that night. He left Rhian and Telyn a letter explaining everything, but he did not say when, or if, he would return.

Rhian smiled on Telyn and Kieva as they stood arm in arm. "I wish the two of you to marry on the Day of Maying, just as you planned. We need some good cheer and merriment just now. Beldaran would want it exactly that way."

They nodded. "If there is to be a Maying celebration," Telyn said then, "there are some holding that we should not allow it this year." The worry in his intelligent eyes reflected the same feelings for all of them. The weight was about to fall on his slender shoulders, for he was next in the royal bloodline.

"Not hold the celebration?! Tell me, who dares to speak such rubbish, after Beldaran himself declared it should be always a day of feasting, wedding, and merrymaking?" Rhain demanded.

Telyn replied, "Sir Corman, and some of his new faction that have risen suddenly to governing Somersea, by whose authority I do not know."

"By no one's," Rhian said firmly. "The ruler of these lands shall be chosen by it's people, not the arms bearers! The folk love Allwyn the Defender, as we do. It will matter not that he is other than the royal bloodline. They will choose him lord, or you. Perhaps both."

If he ever returns, Corinna thought. If he can only rise out of his depression, perhaps he and Telyn could rule Somersea. But, for now Allwyn's heart is not in it. Not since in a matter of moments he lost Beldaran, and learned his mother and father were only his foster parents. Corinna remained lost in thought for a moment. So his father was the great High Champion of Briton. Who was his mother?

The voices swelled and grew to an exultant pitch in the night as the proud descendants of Roman, Cymry and Celts alike sang their King to heaven. As the song ended with a triumphant shout, Corinna and Rhian turned at the thunderous sound of hoofbeats shaking the long hillside behind them. Several hundred mounted, armed men rode up and surrounded the gathering. A plain black shielded and helmed knight with a long sword flashing in the torchlight rode forward and moved the people away from the royal party. Another man in dark mail armor and no helm, they suddenly recognized.

"Corman!" Rhian exclaimed, and a look of dread passed over her serene face, but she replaced it quickly with a charming smile. "And so, have you come to see your king to his resting place, sir? What is the meaning of this show of power?"

His look held a thinly masked desire, mixed with haughty pride as he stared down at her. "My dear lady, I was once chosen to be king, do you not remember? Now, it is time I take my rightful place, and you, my gracious lady, shall be my queen!"

"You dream, Corman! If you were chosen," Rhian stated icily, "it was in a time long past, by ruthless warlords and the heathens who fought against Arthur! He declared the valiant and true Beldaran king of his father's lands, of those people he saved, and that was rightful!"

It seemed then as if Corman resorted to charm, rather than risk a verbal battle with her. He said, "If it so please the gracious Lady Rhian of Falconaire, I shall simply continue to stand in for the king until the people decide who shall fill the seat of the great Beldaran."

He turned to the throng of peasants, and villagers, "Fear you nothing from me, my beloved people! I shall see to your peace and prosperity as carefully as my dear friend, His Majesty King Beldaran ever did! Return to your homes knowing that you once again have protection and generous govern by my knights, my soldiers, and I!" Some cheers followed his speech, and the gathering slowly broke up.

"I don't trust him, " Telyn said tersely.

"Nor do I," Rhian replied, "but we must be careful just now. Where is Lancelot and Arthur's envoy?" Rhian asked of her cousin, "I shall speak with them about this."

Corinna, who was helping Marlon's wife with her small children, stayed behind the others. She recalled hearing that the High King, unable to attend the funeral himself, had sent Lancelot in his stead. The great knight came with a representative of Arthur's court, and, according to Terra's father, they had a dual purpose; to honor King Beldaran's passing, and to look into the problems concerning the Marauders. Corinna doubted Lancelot knew that Prince Allwyn of Somersea was his son, or, perhaps Beldaran had long ago asked his silence. When Rhian returned she spoke with disappointment, "Alas, the matter shall have to wait until Lancelot may return. He was called back to Caerleon to settle some matter."

The dew sparkled on the grass in a fresh, new day. Corinna borrowed Telyn's stylus and a square of parchment, and, praying her newly learned old letters were good enough he could read it, she penned a letter to Allwyn. She then took the silver and gold heart pendant from her neck and wrapped both it and the parchment together in a suede pouch As the household began to rise for morning chores, she found a teenage boy with a horse and gave him the last of her coins to deliver the message.

"Look for him at the abbeys and villages. Show no one else this letter," She warned the rider.

"What was Allwyn's wife like?" Corinna asked Terra curiously after the girl helped wash and dress her hair.

Terra's sweet pixie face saddened. "She was a bit younger than Sir Allwyn, and they had scarcely been married a year, and they were so happy...expecting a babe. Ariana was descended of Cornish royalty. She was little and actually not so beautiful, but she was blessed with the kindest freckled face and pretty red hair. A sweet tempered nature, she had, and we all loved her."

Corinna looked through the casement window at some riders and a wagon moving away from the gates. "Forgive me for more of my nosy questions, Terra, but...are Corman and the Bishop related somehow? It seems to me they resemble each other..."

Terra hushed her voice low when she answered, "You have a keen eye, m'lady. There have been whispers, yes, that...they are half-brothers. I heard Corman's half sister Inon is a princess with lands in Eire. My father says Corman is their king's bastard son. Bishop Cardew is a previous son born to another of the Eirish king's mistresses, they say. Corman proved himself as a battle leader and won the king’s trust. So close kept was the truth of his origin that even our king Beldaran, God rest his kind soul, did not know the two were related. My father thinks there is evil behind the reason they keep that secret. They seek power together, maybe even to rule this kingdom."

Corinna nodded slowly, "It all fits now. I overheard Corman and the Bishop trying to convince Beldaran he should marry the Princess Inon. If she were queen here, that would put Corman, her brother, in proper royal standing and power. I wonder if Corman and the Bishop are here? I haven't seen them today."

"They went away, and I would not be surprised if they are gathering a band of warriors to force their way to the throne. They have influence with many in the court, and now that King Beldaran is no more..."

"But the people want Allwyn to be king, or if not, then Telyn, with him as lord-of arms."

"That is true, m'lady, and I pray it will be so. But, my father says if Corman should ever find the king's treasure store, he will have the gold to maintain an army of such size that no other can unseat him. His power already grows alarmingly. My father and many men here disapprove Corman's new takeover, but they are afraid to voice any dissension."

Corinna pulled on a blue kirtle as she pondered this. "The treasury is well hidden, I take it?"

Terra nodded, "Only the King and Prince Allwyn knew where it is. The Prince always wore the key on a chain around his neck."

"I think others will seek it and he will be in danger," Corinna said, and thought sadly, He may never even return, because having learned he isn't the prince, he feels this is no longer his home.

Corinna went out to the garden and set to weeding the rows of new plants as Rhian had shown her. She worked industriously, but found that she worried more and more for Allwyn's safety. She kept remembering what the Wise Woman told her, and how the two men, Cardew and Corman, rode off together the day the King was attacked. As much as she missed Allwyn, perhaps it was better for him to remain somewhere in the wilderness where he could not be found.

No singing could be heard in the castle since Beldaran’s passing. The few persons she came upon seemed subdued or merely distant forms moving about like somber ghosts. Corinna learned from a scrub woman which chamber the visiting Bishop Cardew was using. She waited until the noblemen had ridden out, supposing they went on a hunt or some business that afternoon. She hurried across the courtyard, located the men's guest chambers and climbed the steps. Making sure she was alone and unseen, she slipped through the door.

There were two carved chests by the bed. She opened the large one and found a velvet cape and fine linen robes. The second contained scrolls, bound parchment books and two gilded cups. Beneath those lay a fat bag of coins, a silver comb and a clothing brush, and several pieces of jewelry. Rings, wrist circlets, a bronze belt...and, yes! A large golden cross on a heavy silver chain.

She lifted the magnificent pendant up to the window and thought it was probably solid gold. Her heart hammered in excitement as she thought, I must take this to Sylva and ask if this is the cross she saw, the one worn by the man who murdered the king!

She hid the pendant in the folds of her ample skirt and was leaving when she heard male voices at the steps and the thud of boots on stone. A peek through the cracked door revealed both Corman and Bishop Cardew coming toward her.

She glanced frantically around, then ran and shrank behind a wall hanging of a praying Virgin Mary. The tassels at the bottom were still dancing when the two men strode into the room and shut the door.

"This is not wise, the two of us meeting here in dubious secrecy," the bishop grumbled. "Tell me your plans, and make haste. How do we find the king's treasury, and be rid of the damn prince without causing a tempest?"

"Not yet, brother!" Corman snarled, "methinks we have a spy in our midst!" He strode over and yanked at the wall hanging, tearing it aside. Corinna stared into a pair of hard, steel-gray eyes set in the advisor's thin face.

"The foreign woman!" the Bishop exclaimed. He seized her arm, forcing her hand from behind her. He snatched the pendant away. "Ho! It seems she is a thief, as well as an opportunist who meant to snare a royal husband!"

Corinna's heart pounded so hard her throat hurt, but she faced them and said nothing. Better to let them think she was stealing a bauble for the value, than to have them know she was onto their treachery.

"What are you going to do with her," Corman inquired nervously. "She is a guest and friend of Lady Rhian's. I do not think we should...."

Cardew interrupted, "She has already heard too much! The way she was always wandering about this place freely, it is hard to say what all she may know. I shall take her to the fortress, and decide then what is to be done with her."

Corinna managed to shriek, "Help!" once, before Corman's gauntleted hand closed over her mouth. Struggling and kicking madly, she was forced onto the bed. They roughly bound her wrists and ankles with cords, and gagged her with a linen scarf. Then, Cardew wrapped and tied her entire body in one of his large woolen traveling cloaks and a heavy blanket. Barely able to breathe at all, Corinna fought back a strangling terror when they lifted her. The Bishop slung her over his shoulder like a saddle bedroll.

"Summon my men to meet me at the gate," he said to Corman. "Whilst I am away, increase the search and be ready to deal with the prince, should he return. I will send word when we are ready to declare your kingship." He bowed slightly to his brother, "Until we next meet, my future King of Somersea."

"Until then, my Lord Milite'," Corman replied, and stomped off to give the orders.

Her captor had removed her from the blanket and unbound the gag once they reached the deep forest. Corinna's greatest discomfort was the aching weariness from riding so far with little rest. The hooded cloak that hid her identity from anyone they should meet was beginning to feel scratchy and too warm.

She turned as best she could with her hands tied to the saddle and asked Cardew, "Please, may I have some water?"

"Not yet. Our destination is not far now." He reined up alongside her, "Here, you must wear the blindfold. No one shall learn the way into the Black Fortress." He tied on the cloth and everything went dark. She felt intense fear, but was not about to let him see it, and she felt better knowing her dagger remained hidden inside the woolen bodice of her dress.

Her ears had always been keen, and Corinna used them now, hoping to learn the terrain and perhaps have a better chance of escape. And what then? If Corman and Cardew took control of Falconaire and eventually the kingdom, then she must flee the country. To where, and how? Always a survivor by nature, she put those worries aside and listened to the hiss of swift water spilling over rocks. A while later she noticed the horse's hooves clattering over hard trails, then going softly as if stepping on moss or thick turf.

From the coolness and the crunching of leaves and twigs she discerned they were now in a deep forest, and in a while the horses splashed through water where rushes rattled around their feet.

"Must we go into this wood?" she heard one of the men ask, "my kinsman said there have been unnatural happenings in this place. The hillfolk call it the Forest of the Charmed."

"Surely you do not believe in that old faerie rubbish!" Cardew's voice was bitingly scornful, "If you do, you may leave this company and never return! I want bold fighting men, not imbeciles with stupid fears and superstitions!"

"But...my lord," another man exclaimed, "they say there is a woman who raises sheep and fowl living here, and she practices the magic of the Ancients! Some dare claim her power is used for the people's good, but, I knew a man who said she gave him the evil eye, and all his livestock died that night. Another man who took one of her ducks died from a sudden fever, and..."

"Enough!" the Bishop roared furiously, "Get you ahead to have the watch open the gates! Could I spare a single man, I would put you to the sword! Go, you fool!"

The soldier galloped away and Corinna wondered if the woman spoken of could be Sylva, the Wise Woman. Perhaps, if she could get away and find Sylva's dwelling.... She heard the hooves clattering across boards as they crossed a bridge, and then felt her mount lunge to climb a steep rise. "Open the gates! "Tis our fierce and brave chieftain returning to us! Welcome the Black Marauder!" Several male voices shouted from somewhere ahead.

Corinna felt a dry knot burning in her throat as she fought to steady herself in the saddle. Cardew the Bishop was really the Black Marauder! So then, Corman was no doubt the Dark Knight! Unlikely as it seemed, the Marauder was disguised all the while as a holy man. He was probably never a real bishop, but had somehow attained the credentials and used the ruse for years. And no one suspected!

It made sense now. She had pondered the mystery of the invader chieftan's identity after hearing Rhian comment the Marauder must be someone with enough power and wealth to hold an army. The Bishop received all sorts of donations and tributes, including a large sum from King Beldaran to build a new church in Bris. A place the king believed, by Cardew's reports, to be taking shape, but had never actually seen.

When they were inside the timber walled compound, Corinna knew where the gold had gone. She could hear several horses whinnying, probably stables full of war mounts. She heard the clank of metal, the footsteps of several persons moving about, and she could smell meat cooking on open fire. Cardew removed her blindfold and she found it was nighttime, the second since her abduction. By the light from the firepits, she saw they were outside a row of crude huts. Adjacent to these lay a row of stone quarters that must be the warrior's barracks, since armor and weapons lay about the yard or hung on the walls. There was a large earthen and log hall in the center of the fort. From it came the sound of lusty voices several hundred strong raised in a song, followed by laughter. A few women in peasant dresses were carrying bundles of laundry or cooking pots to the fires. There were even children playing among some geese in the dusty yard. She looked up and saw the walls were surrounded by a forest so tall and thick that no sunlight came through. A well hidden stronghold and on such a high hill that an attacking force a thousand strong would be hard pressed to take it, if they could ever find it in the first place. She had read about such hill forts in her historical research. They were often built by the Saxons.

Cardew whisked her into a small earthen hut where a boy tended a smoky fire. "See that she is always tied and kept locked in, Thomas," Cardew instructed grimly. "Guard her very closely."

"What do you plan to do with me?" she asked him, keeping her voice steady.

Cardew's pallid, square face took on a mocking smile. "Let's see now, you are quite a beauty. I could give you to my men for sport..."

His cold white fingers lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder. At her recoiling from his touch he smiled sarcastically, "But then, I have always been a shrewd enough man, and I say, when you can fetch a price for something, why squander it away? You, lovely Lady Corinna, I shall send to the Far Eastern slave market. You should fetch me a bag of gold from a wealthy noble wishing to add you to his harem."

He yanked a rope around her ankles and wrists, tied her with multiple knots to a bench beside the wall, and left her.

Awhile later, the boy called Thomas untied one of her hands and shyly handed her a bowl of mutton gruel and some barley cakes. Corinna was so starved by now, that the greasy meal was almost delicious. As she ate, she watched her young guard. The boy couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen, she decided, a little too young to be made a warrior. He was awkward and gangly with a thatch of pale hair over round blue eyes.

"Thomas is that your name? A fine name, that is, for a fine lad. I'll bet you will soon learn to be a strong and brave soldier." She smiled at him appreciatively.

His round face broke into a smile that revealed a missing front tooth. He seemed proudly pleased. "Yes, m'lady, I practice with the wooden swords and bludgeons every day. I want to be ready when Cardew is the king's Lord-of-arms. There will be great battles in which I shall prove myself as a brave warrior."

"Is that the plan for this army? First they take over Somersea, then make war wherever they please?" Corinna felt the youngster would be very talkative now, and maybe she could gain his trust.

"Well...lady our bold leader Cardew declares we shall take all of Briton as our forces grow stronger and the defeated armies join us. And then, we shall vanquish the High King Arthur, and rule the land."

"Vanquish the High King, huh?" she lifted an eyebrow, "Do you, Thomas, think that is possible?"

The boy became very serious, "I do, m'lady. Our strong and fearless Black Marauder has the aid of a thousand Vandali and Picti, as well as the very Saxon tribes Arthur once drove out to starve in the marshlands beyond the borders. Good fortune has befallen our band of late. Cardew has allied with Prince Mordred, who gathers a warhost among the tribes of the North, and many other lords."

"And how did he obtain this alliance, Thomas?"

"Our great chieftain promised them they will be given land, cattle and fortresses of their own."

Corinna smiled sardonically, "A promise hard to keep, that will be, when they turn on him and take it all. And that's what will happen."

"How would you know this, lady?" The boy had heard the ring of truth in her words.

"What year is this, Thomas?"

Thomas drew himself up proudly and recited in stilted Latin, "Anno Domini Five Hundred and Forty."

A cold, hollow feeling replaced the tightness in her stomach. Corinna did not need one of Emery's history classes to know that the end of Arthur's reign and the destruction of this country would soon begin.

Thomas looked at her and asked, "Why dost knowing the year make you so sad, m'lady?"

Her answer was a solemn one, "The time of lasting peace is almost over, the realm of justice and chivalry will crumble. As my uncle told it, there will be war everywhere, tribe against tribe, and no High King to unify the lords and keep out invaders from taking over the land."

The boy shook his head, "You are wrong. My father says our great Cardew will be king of Somersea, and of all Briton one day."

Hearing this, she wondered if Cardew planned to slay his brother Corman to obtain the throne for himself.

Someone outside called insistently for Thomas, and he hurried out to do his chores. There were probably more guards outside, but Corinna was bent on escaping, somehow. She realized her chances would be slim at best, as she lay upon the hard bench, pressing her cheek against the cool, worn oak. Allwyn the Defender, I need you now...would you come for me if you knew? She fervently hoped he would not come and get himself killed. No, she was on her own.

She recalled how, during their last moments together she had seen it in his eyes, a look that both startled and thrilled her to the core. She could have sworn he wanted and needed her. Perhaps, because of circumstances he had denied himself his deepest longings. Then he fled to be alone, for many reasons, she supposed. Corinna sighed, maybe that doesn't even matter now. Allwyn was going through an inner turmoil, one that she could understand. The people owed much to him, but if they made him king, the spirited warrior inside him might die, replaced by a duty bound soul with great burdens on his shoulders.

She touched the dagger pendant, kept well hidden so far. Fingering the cool smoothness of the emerald at the pommel gave her comfort and strength. This is my ticket to escape, she thought. Would she be able to use it if the necessity arose? She hated the very idea.

If I do make it back to Falconaire, somehow, what then? If Emery was correct, I shall return to my own time before war reaches the smaller kingdoms. But, once I leave, I won't ever see Allwyn again. The thought filled her with a powerful ache and suddenly she was angry at fate and her circumstances. Then she took a deep breath of resolve. Whatever comes, I have to get back to Falconaire, and the sooner the better. First, though, she desperately needed some sleep.

Corinna woke to find it was early evening, judging by the shadows. Thomas had apparently returned and left again, for a small fire blazed at the hearth. She listened for any sounds of approaching voices or steps, but all she heard were the distant shouts and laughter at the main hall where the meal had begun. She worked and wriggled relentlessly until one chafed hand slid from the ropes. She undid the little dagger's sheath, thankful Thomas had been distracted and had not tied her so tightly after she ate. The weapon was razor sharp, but sawing through the strong cords with her left hand was awkward and slow.

At last, she was free from the bench, and she crept to the door, dagger in hand. Of course, the boy had barred it tight from the outside when he left, not daring to do otherwise. The one tiny window was too high and she gave up on that idea. There was one way out, that she could think of, although she felt guilty for doing this to a nice lad like Thomas. When he finally came through the door, she whacked him on the head with a big clay jar. He sagged to the floor and she dragged his limp body to the bench, tying him hand and foot in the same cords that had held her.

Night was coming on. That should be in her favor, Corinna thought hopefully as she swiftly shed her kirtle and chemise. Leaving poor unconscious Thomas in only a worn undergarment, she dressed herself in the boy's shirt, leather vest and breeches. They were a strained fit in places, but a good disguise since the laced vest flattened her breasts so she might pass as a male. Beside the door hung a threadbare hooded tunic. She threw it on, bound her hair back, and opened the door. "Forgive me, Thomas," she whispered, "But it’s time I checked out of this warlord’s hotel." She slipped along the shadowed row of huts, past more elaborate quarters that were probably for officers, and on to the back wall. Taking one of the ceramic water jars near the ladder she stepped to the bottom rung and commenced to climb upward. She willed herself to move as if in no hurry, hoping that the sentries stationed on the wall thought her a servant going to the well. They might come to hand up the ladder so the water boy could scale the outside wall.

Corinna reached the top and stopped short at the sight of tall ship masts with folded sails beyond the trees. So, the Black Marauder had a fleet waiting in a secret cove, ready for escape, or to sail on a raid and strike where he pleased. She almost panicked, realizing the odds she would be up against. She knew nothing of the terrain, where to go or how to survive in the forest, and his soldiers on horseback could easily hunt her down. But she refused to turn back.

She had been so quiet, the sentries had not noticed her as they played a game of dice. She did not want to take time to wrestle with bringing up the ladder, which might draw attention. The wall seemed impossibly high, but she took a breath of resolve, made aim for a cluster of bog grass and landed with a thud that knocked the wind out of her. As she lay gasping, a soldier started to climb the wall, calling to his fellow guards that he heard something. Corinna forced her shaky legs to move, and scrambling to her feet, she darted into the rushes along the water.

Chapter 14

Granted, the first time he had tried to run away from the pain was different, but now he wondered what had made him think he could, any more than he had on the battle campaigns years ago? Allwyn shivered in the heavy mist and slumped in the position he had kept for some time on his knees before the abbey cross. He finished praying for his loved ones safety, but was simply too weary to rise to his feet. He touched her silver heart pendant and the crumpled parchment letter tucked in his belt pouch. The rider had found him at WesterFord ale house, where he took shelter from a downpour after a skirmish in the fields. He had vowed he would think no more about Corinna, but, in that he had miserably failed. He saw her lovely, serene face and beautiful, sea-colored eyes whether he was dreaming or awake. He delighted in recalling the way she breathed her very own shortened version of his name, "Oh, Wyn..." He remembered with startling clarity the silken touch of her slender fingers on his cheek, her lush lips yielding beneath the pressure of his own, and the way the tendrils of her cascading hair swept over his arm like a soft caress...

Did she know this sort of necklace--the one she had sent him, two hearts inside a circle--was meant to signify a true lover's pledge. Perhaps not, since she came from somewhere far away. But, if she did know... What does it matter? Forget all of this, he told himself sternly. He must not trust her. He would not fall for her charms only to be a pawn in her game, whatever it was. Yet, it puzzled him, the way she never seemed aware of her bewitching beauty, but gave an aura of innocence and honesty. Perhaps this was only a guise. She was not of his people, and maybe...not even human, but a witch or a sorceress who somehow transcended time. Allwyn wasn't sure he believed such things were possible. Then again, he somehow trusted the Wise Woman who told him they were possible and that he would love this woman.

He had read and reread Corinna's letter. The note was brief, but evidently she felt strongly that there was trouble for his people at Falconaire, and she stated that he must see the Wise Woman, the woods dwelling healer whom Rhian had befriended.

He had ridden away the night the king died and found Sylva, and when she told him what she had seen during Beldaran's hunt, something inside him changed. Though he never would have before, he believed her when she revealed Corinna’s journey from her time to his. The Wise Woman also told him about his mother, to his surprise, but the words had scarcely left her mouth when a villager rode up shouting that his neighbors were being attacked. Allwyn had flung himself on his already tired horse and spurred away to the small hamlet where the raid was taking place. He organized the frightened peasants and they fought back, with him leading the battle. The plunderers were taken by surprise and they fled before they could set fire to more than a few buildings.

He rode away victorious with their praise and gratitude ringing in his ears. From there he lost track of time and place, instinctively following the river and the pathways until he reached the Abbey at Dunleah. He tried to tell himself it was only concern for his foster family that had caused him to ride relentlessly without sleep for days. But there was more. He needed hope, purpose and direction, and more and more he wanted to seek out one who could give this to him.

Abbot Tullias walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come, my son, sup with us and rest here tonight. I shall tend to that wound on your neck. Got into a nasty fracas, eh?"

"It's only a nick by a broadsword," he replied. "There were some farms at the border suffering an attack from brigands. I managed to surprise those spawns of the devil, and, I think those few able to ride away will not return."

Allwyn went to his horse and pulled his sword from the scabbard. "I am grateful for your kind hospitality, brother, but I shall ride on to Falconaire tonight. First, there is something I want to leave here."

The Abbot looked on as the Prince carried Beldaran’s sword, the one the king had given him the day he was knighted, up the hill to the sealed door of the king's tomb. He plunged its blade into the earth at the door’s center, where it stood like a shining cross, a tribute to mark Beldaran's greatness forever.

Allwyn and Tullias walked to the main house in silence. After the monks said prayer and he had eaten barley stew and bread, Allwyn made ready to go. The Abbot brought him a long, slender object wrapped in a hide covering. "Our young brother Ewan decided to return to his family in Anjou, and did not take this French crafted beauty along. Ewan was ever too timid for such a weapon. You, on the other hand, may have need of it on your journey home."

"My thanks, Abbot." Allwyn unwrapped it slowly, saying, "Falconaire is no longer my home. But there are people there whom I love, so I shall confront the evil that crept in behind those walls." He removed the wrapping and held up a magnificently crafted sword. The handle was overlaid in bronze, the hilt ringed with copper dragons, and the weight and balance seemed perfect in his grip. It fit his hand as if the craftsman had made it for him. He tested the weapon, the slender bright blade singing through the air as he swung it in powerful strokes. He lunged at a sizable tree branch and sliced it off cleanly. "Aye, this is the fine sword of a warrior," he acknowledged, and chuckled wryly, "I again thank you, Abbot, but who would ever guess I should receive my weapon from a man of the Holy Order!"

Tullias chuckled. "I myself have a sword hidden beneath my bunk. While I do not condone violence against others, I do believe in protection of ones self."

Allwyn tried to read the lettering inscripted on the weapon’s silver crosspiece, but it took the Abbot to translated the foreign wording. "Ophidias Annihilatus... Your sword’s name is Serpent Slayer."

Allwyn smiled rather coldly. "Its name may prove to be very appropriate," he said.

Sir Allwyn came riding in, pale, haggard as if he had not slept in days. Unhailed, he was allowed entry to the fortress he had called home for much of his life, and no one detained him at the inner gate. The courtyard was deserted. The castle keep was quiet. A few guards could be seen on the battlements, moving about in the fog like specters. Beside the crackling fire in the hall, Rhian welcomed him with relieved tears in her eyes. "I feared we might never see you again. Know you that always, in our hearts you remain our kinsman."

Telyn brought him a cup of warm mead and seconded her declaration, noting how fatigue threatened to overcome his cousin. They persuaded him to go straight to his chamber, and ordered servants to bring nourishment and a tub with warm water. When Allwyn had finished bathing and slipped on a clean tunic, he went to find Rhian. "You should be at resting!" she protested.

"Where is Corinna?" he inquired as they came to the upper corridor and he looked in to find her guest chamber empty. He turned and almost collapsed where they stood on the walkway. Rhian called for Telyn to help her support Allwyn’s tall frame, and they made their way inside as weariness claimed his body. He was having troubling focusing his gaze. Before they could remove his clothing, he fell onto the bed.

"Where is...Lady...Corinna?" he asked once again, and his eyes closed heavily in sleep.

"We should tell him that the lady is missing!" Telyn said to his cousin as they conferred outside the door.

Rhian's face was worried and indecisive, "I know not what to do... He is so weakened from lack of sleep now! If we tell him..."

"Let us wait until he has rested a little," Telyn conceded. "And now, we should make haste with our own traveling plans. The sooner we leave, the better for our safety."

"Indeed. And, instruct Kieva to tell not a soul. I no longer know who is loyal to us, and who is with..."

"Corman. Yes, I fear what he and the bishop are about now. I have heard things whispered. He will never willingly let you leave, cousin. He intends to force you into a marriage if you refuse his proper proposal."

"It shall be the day the seas dry up before I marry that conniving, treacherous slime! The murderous traitor!" Rhian replied vehemently, and her hand instinctively closed around the tiny dirk she now kept hidden inside her kirtle.

He drifted in a swirling mist, and suddenly she was there, supple and warm in his arms. He tasted her rain-drenched skin... "Corinna..." he murmured, " 'tis you...you are my light..."

Then, through a haze he realized Rhian and Telyn were trying to wake him. Rhian lay his clean garments on the bed. He blinked foolishly up at them. "Would that you could sleep longer," Rhian said, "but, something here at Falconaire is not right..."

When they told him what Telyn had seen, Allwyn shot up in bed and reached for his swordbelt. "Why didn't you tell me at first!? The damn bishop?!" he cried. "You say he took her away, by force?!!"

"I was on my way to the chapel when I heard someone coming and I hid, as Rhian and I are wont to do lately, so to avoid Corman. I saw the bishop and his traveling party ride by. There was a bundle thrown across the mount behind him, and that bundle was wriggling as if someone were in it, perhaps struggling to get free! Later, Terra told us that Corinna was nowhere to be found in the castle. We never found her, so I assumed the worst."

"Where is Corman?"

Rhian said, "I do not know. I think he is away right now. This may be our only chance to leave, together."

"Telyn, go tell Marlon to get my men ready to ride," Allwyn said. "Lancelot is still here, is he not? We will need him..."

"Defender, there is sad news..." Telyn said soberly, "I am afraid Lancelot is in jail."

Allwyn stopped in the middle of yanking on his boots, "How? Why?!"

Telyn shrugged, "There was an altercation in the hall last night, and one of the captains of horse is...dead. By Lancelot's sword, they are saying. Corman has commanded that he be hung at the gallows."

Allwyn leaped to his feet, his eyes fiery with rage. "There will be no one hung here without a fair trial! What is that man thinking?! He will bring down the entire Order of the Round Table on us, should he do something so rash! Make them enemies when we need their aid...the fool!" He clenched his fists and took a long, shuddering breath to calm his rage. "Telyn, take me to the prison where Lancelot is held."

They went stomping through the drizzle that fell from miserable skies in the twilight.

As they approached the lower village, Corman suddenly appeared in the muddy street. He looked splendid as any Roman commander. He had buckled on some of Beldaran's bronze plating and wore a long, jewel clasped purple cape. "Hold there! Advisor!" Allwyn shouted, "I would speak with you."

"Why, welcome back, Prince Allwyn, Defender of...us all! I say, it pleases me immensely to see you again where you belong! We need a man of your battle prowess!" And then Corman continued to lay on the praise and charm until Allwyn felt like being sick. He stood planted in front of the man, hand on his sword hilt, blocking the self-appointed king's path.

"Why is Lancelot under lock and key?" he asked Corman icily.

"Why? My good man, why indeed? Because he killed a man last night. That's right, killed him without giving him a chance for a fair fight! It was poor old Gwydre, one of your father's most brave captains, and he had pledged his services to me."

"Gwydre was ever one to speak before he thought, and loudly. If that is what happened, I would wager that Lancelot was sorely provoked," Allwyn said, "and he will stand down to no man. Or could it be that you just wanted him where he could not thwart your plans?"

The other man grated, "Words do not merit the cold-blooded killing of a defenseless man. I must enforce the law here, or there will be chaos. I say he hangs." Corman's eyes narrowed and he continued with caustic sarcasm, "I have known of this so-called "greatest knight" since he was young. He was a king’s bastard, denied a royal title, so he left his home. He went into the monastery, then deciding he would make a better warrior than monk, he becomes the High King's best friend, only to betray him with the Queen! I have much contempt for the man, but that plays no part in it. Under Arthur's own law, a murderer shall be hanged!"

Allwyn's face was like frozen stone. "I cannot allow that. Give me the cell key."

Corman's eyes took on a dangerous glint, but he only smiled placidly, "I do not have it, and my jailer is away on errand." Then he said, "Look you, we must not pardon a man who killed one of our own. I care not he is supposed to be the greatest champion in Briton. He is not above the law!"

Allwyn hid a small ironic smile as he thought; if Corman only knew he was speaking to the son of the knight he wanted out of the way so urgently.

"Fetch the village smithy," Allwyn said to Telyn, "tell him to bring the proper tools for opening a cell door."

Telyn was away quickly, but Corman blocked Allwyn's steps toward the jail, "I hope, Sir, you do not! I had great hopes you would join forces with me and help secure our kingdom, but, should you try such, I shall have to challenge you to a stand off!"

"Who commissioned you the ruling voice here?" Allwyn demanded coldly.

Corman smiled haughtily, "I earned the kingship long ago. I brought men from my homeland and fought as valiant as any. Now I and my army shall have what is ours."

"You will not be chosen, and you know it. The kingship belongs to Telyn."

"Your cousin? What, not yourself, the haughty prince? "

Allwyn saw no reason to tell this conniving traitor anything about his parentage. "I will let all know that I choose Telyn. He will make a strong and wise ruler for Somersea."

"A bard king!?" Corman scoffed incredulously, and boasted, "It matters not if I be chosen! My warriors will see that I take the throne! If you get in my way, we shall be bitter enemies."

"So be it!," Allwyn snarled, "And when I am finished with you, little man, you will tell me about yourself and the bishop, and where he took Corinna...if it be with your final breath!" He watched Corman's face, and for just an instant the other man's look of surprise said everything. Allwyn was certain this man had played a part in her abduction, as well as Beldaran's untimely end.

Allwyn's new sword whispered as he drew it from the scabbard. Serpent Slayer sang through the air, parried with a resounding clang by Corman's heavy weapon. The sword flashed again, missing its mark by a hair as the wily former soldier danced back. Corman sneered in sarcasm, "Mighty prince, ha! I shall crush you like a beetle under my boot!" He lunged but missed his target.

Corman blocked each skillful thrust well and once got through with his own, slashing into the heavy gauntlet to leave Allwyn's wrist dripping blood. But Allwyn fought on furiously, feeling nothing except his rage. They swung, parried, lunged and fought like crazed men caught up in an ancient battle awen, a formidable spell that neither could nor wanted to break. A crowd of villagers formed to watch. One man, a supporter of Corman's new faction, ran to get the guards.

Deep inside, Allwyn had known he would fight fiery dragons if need be, for Corinna. Now he fought ten skilled swordsmen, holding them off for several minutes as the people looked on in awe. The villagers cried out fiercely in protest when finally, wounded and cornered, his sword broken, their Prince looked to be done for. Some of the men picked up wooden clubs and farming tools and ran forward to help. Corman's blade was poised to slash down across Allwyn's throat when Marlon and twenty armed men burst into the circle. A dagger sailed from Marlon's hand and imbedded itself in Corman's sword arm.

As Corman yelped and turned his head in disbelief to see what had happened, Allwyn kicked up hard into his groin, and when he doubled over, he snatched the other man's sword. He needed only one swift blow to his side, and Corman fell. Blood seeped quickly through the cracks in the old bronze plate armor.

In the next moment, the army of new soldiers Corman had assembled came swooping down the walkway, and they quickly became engaged in battle with the men loyal to Allwyn. Using the din and confusion to slip away, Allwyn bounded behind the houses, running, hiding, until he reached the stone block compound. The smithy was sawing hardily away, but was not yet through the lock.

"Hurry, man!" Allwyn cried, and to Telyn he said, "Have my men meet me at the bridge, all those who are still with me! I am going after Corinna!" He then placed his hands on Telyn's shoulders, looking into the young man's serious eyes. "This is good-bye for awhile, my foster-cousin. I trust Lady Rhian to your care. Take the silver from beneath the third blue hearth stone in my chamber. Then take Kieva and Rhian, ride for Mere Estuary and take a ship to Wales. Rhian has kin there in the mountains, we have talked about this before."

He reached inside his tunic and gave Telyn the letter from Corinna. "Give this to Rhian. It will explain what really happened to Beldaran. 'Til I come to you on the mountain above Glamorgan, farewell."

There was a welling of tears in Telyn's eyes as they hugged briefly. He clasped Allwyn's hands, then he ran into the shadows.

Corman's soldiers were coming amid a lot of noise at the top of the narrow street when the smithy's saw bit through the iron lock, at last. "God go with you, sirs," he grinned at Allwyn and the somewhat dazed Lancelot. Then he also vanished among the dwellings.

Lancelot looked somberly at his rescuer and stated, "I did kill the man. Know that, before you let me ride free."

"What did Gywdre say to you?"

He...called my Queen a...well, a derogatory name. I challenged him to a duel and told him after I bested him, he would publicly announce to everyone he spoke wrongly. He came at me when I thought him unconscious from his fall...he attacked as my back was turned, and...I ran him through, acting by instinct, just like that." He looked at his hands with a sigh.

Allwyn nodded slowly. He had thought it was something like that.

"Are you with me?" Allwyn asked of the knight, "We must ride north, they have taken Lady Corinna captive!" Lancelot seemed to come back to life then.

"Of course I am with you, war-brother! Lead the way!"

They found that a brigade of fully armed men choked the way to their escape.

Allwyn flung Telyn's sword to Lancelot. The middle-aged knight tested it's balance and smiled coolly. "Aye, 'tis well. Appears we shall be fighting our way to the bridge."

They did just that. Leaping across the rock walls, slashing, running, then making a stand back to back, surrounded at the head of the causeway. Marlon and several calvarymen rode through to them, leading Allwyn's black charger, and another had a horse for Lancelot.

Marlon and six of his best soldiers held back the attacking army at the narrow rock archway leading across the bridge, while Allwyn led his band at full gallop into the woods. The captain and his men then wheeled their mounts and followed.

The last sound they heard before the thick trees closed behind them was a badly wounded Corman screaming to his guards, "Catch those bastards! Allwyn and Lancelot must die!"

They had long since left their pursuers behind when the skies broke open, drenching the forest and all that was in it. Huddled in their woolen cloaks, the great Champion of Briton and the ex-prince, cavalry leader rode together at the head of the band, going as swiftly as the horses could manage on the slippery paths. Of his original alae, Allwyn found that some one-hundred and fifty men loyally remained in his service. The rest had switched alliances, either for promise of riches or for fear of Corman. He suspected it was mostly the latter. At dawn, Allwyn's scouts returned disgusted and humble. They had lost the trail. Cardew's party seemed to have vanished once they reached the River Ax at the edge of the Black Forest.

"We are moving east. Turn to the north," Lancelot instructed, and they followed him.

Allwyn had studied on the grueling battlegrounds beside the savvy military leader, and knew it was good judgment to follow his instincts.

"You say it is believed these marauders move from your coast to Eire, and back," Lancelot mused. "They must maintain an outpost not far from the shore, and the ships have to be moored somewhere," He calculated the distance to sea when they paused to send out fresh scouts.

Allwyn nodded, "I pray they have not yet sailed." He could not mask the desperation in his voice.

Lancelot touched his shoulder in support, saying, "It is difficult when your lady is in danger, I know. But you must have faith and stay on course."

Allwyn nodded, "You are right. We shall push onward until we find them."

Watching as the quiet, tall man in armor rode ahead, Allwyn thought, he doesn't know. Beldaran, in the last moments, had told the truth about his birth. And a few days ago he had learned from Sylva whom his mother was. He recalled her telling of it:

Sylva said her daughter Ellyln was sixteen when she met the handsome mercenary soldier from Gaul, who was barely of age himself. Lancelyn was called back to war, and fighting off the Saxons alongside the chieftain Arthur Pendragon kept him away for years. Ellylw bore a child in the spring. She admitted the boy had been sired by Lancelyn, as they called him then. That year, there came a terrible fever ravaging the countryside. Eventually, some of the children at Lord Beldaran's hill fort, which at the time was a crumbling Roman villa, became ill with it. The Wise Woman and her daughter Ellylw came with healing herbs and potions to cure the sick.

But, sadly, just as their efforts began to stop the awful illness, Ellylw came down with the fever, and died, leaving her child of only one year an orphan. The baby boy was brought to the king's household for fostering."

Allwyn could hear the king's dying words, "That child was you, Allwyn. You are not of my blood, but I say you are a prince...my only son..." The revelation echoed in his thoughts as his palfrey's hooves thudded across the damp trails and through the misty glades. "My son the prince, and fit to be king..."

Lancelot did not know. The only people who knew were himself, Sylva and Corinna. If they told no one... But, no! He did not wish to be king of Somersea. He was a warrior, and free to fight for justice and for the well being of his people. He had seen how constrained, how wise and dedicated a king must be. By these requirements, and the right of true royal bloodlines, the throne belonged to Telyn, not he. Allwyn swore to himself he would persuade the High King to grant his foster cousin the lordship of Somersea. First he must rescue Corinna, at all cost.

The rain let up by sunrise, and as he looked around the twisting path that had changed to a muddy road, he knew this place. The village where Corinna's young messenger had found him lay on the far hillside. Now they were coming into the Forest of the Charmed. He almost chuckled at hearing what some of his men were saying: "Would that we could persuade the Defender and Lancelot to go 'round some other way..." Allwyn shook his head at their frantic crossings of their chests, signing themselves against evil as they rode into the giant black trees and the sun disappeared. He could also discern the fatigue drawing their faces, although none complained. He could not push them much further without rest and food.

He recalled when, as a lad of ten or so, the Lady Rhian had taken him here to visit the Wise Woman. Sylva taught Rhian crafts and how to heal sickness with the nature cures of the centuries. He had played around the neat stone and wattle house and explored along the sheep and geese pens in the back. The old house was suddenly there ahead of them, in the sun-dappled clearing under the spreading oaks, just as he remembered it. There were no sheep, and the roof was sadly in need of thatching, but it was Sylva's home. Emrys the mage, when he wasn't traveling on his good works among the people, resided with her. They were man and wife.

"Rein in, "Allwyn called to the band, "Let us rest for a little while, and I will see if this kind woman of the forest can spare us some nourishment."

She appeared at the door, dressed in a green kirtle over cotton skirts dyed in various bright colors. "Allwyn the Defender!" Sylva beamed, her tan face exposing a flash of surprisingly white teeth, "Praises be to the Divine One, you are safe! I have been troubled about the fighting I have seen in the wheel."

He knew she spoke of the seer's wheel, a tool of magic kept inside the house.

There were two deities honored in this household, he observed with a smile. A golden crucifix hung above the front door, and Christian scenes as well as Celt designs on tapestries lined the interior, but the great Wheel of the Ancients was still there. The round wooden hoop was intricately carved with figures of the planting and the harvest, the sun, the moon, and the constellations. The window at the center streamed sunlight into the dimness of the house.

Sylva patted the head of a black dog rising beside the hearth. Looking closer, Allwyn saw it was not a dog, but a wolf. The animal regarded him with amber eyes, then stretched out on its side to sleep again.

"The woman I saw for you...she came, but she is taken captive by the evil one called the Black Marauder?" Sylva queried of him.

"Yes, I fear so," Allwyn spoke anxiously, "I ride now to find her. I have accepted my other losses," his voice tightened, "but I have found I... I cannot bear any harm to come to Corinna."

"You can accept her for what she is, and love her for whatever time you have?"

"I want to try. I care not even if she is a witch, though I have come to think not. I need to make sure she is safe..."

"I know," his grandmother said. "Fret not so. I think you will find her in time."

She stood before the wheel and began to chant softly, faster and faster, "In time...In time...‘ round and round time goes..." She stared trance like into the center of her wheel, then closed her eyes. She seemed to go limp, then turned to him. "I saw a winding river in the deep forest, and great, high black rocks. Among them is a well hidden fortress, a day's ride yet from here. Go on to the north and westward to the sea."

Even a few days ago Allwyn might have carelessly doubted any seer’s power, but something had changed, and he was desperate. "We shall ride as soon as the horses are rested. Have you any nourishment I can give my men?"

"I will cook what I have," she promised.

"Thank you, Grandmere. He clasped her hands in gratitude and she walked with him to the front of the house. Sylva resignedly explained that thieves had been stealing their livestock and that of the hill folk also. There was no mutton nor goose to be had, but she put a large kettle and a smaller one of leek and potato soup to bubbling on the fire. Allwyn helped her fetch two big jars of ale from the cellar to calm the men’s thirst. "’Tis special brew from Emrys' private cache, but perhaps he will not miss it," she laughed.

She served them in pottery trenchers and wooden bowls. After he assisted with that, Allwyn ate as heartily as the rest, but anxiety made him restless. The men needed more rest, he knew, but he became impatient as he thought of the time lost here when Corinna was possibly being taken farther and farther away.

He looked up and saw Sylva watching Lancelot with piercing eyes. Why, of course, she knows who he is! She must have heard his name spoken by some of the men. He should caution her not to mention their secret to anyone. Somehow, he knew she would keep it.

Later, as the men prepared to ride, he walked with Sylva to a bench in the rear of the stone dwelling. "Tell me more about my mother, Grandmere..." Allwyn said quietly when she brought him a final cup of mead.

Sylva smiled with the peace it brought her to have him know, at last, that his mother was a gifted healer of the wood folk. The old tribe that the Brits called "Faerie," or "Fey."

"Are you a Christian knight?" she asked him.

"Yes, but I do not condemn anyone who worships the Old Ways. The religion they chose should be the right of every man and woman."

She nodded and said, "You are wise, grandson, as was she."

Then she told him, "Your mother, Ellylw, was young and comely; brown skinned, hair dark like yours and her eyes were the color of gray skies. Your eyes are your father's, your build, also, for your mother was small, but you have her comeliness about your face and your hands. She was skilled in the herbal curing arts and helped heal the sick alongside me. My daughter was conceived on the night of Bel-Tain, when I was still young. Her father was faerie, such as the villagers called the hill people who came out to dance at the fires of harvest celebration."

Sylva sighed, her eyes dreamy for a moment as she remembered. Then she said in a kind of wonderment, "You were a child of the same fires many years later, conceived in celebration of the Goddess, when your mother was sixteen summers. Ellylw had a level head and was wise for her years, but when the tall, handsome young soldier rode into the village the day before Bel-tain..." She broke off, waved her hands in the air and smiled. "Ah, well, you know the young folk. I blessed you after the birthing, and I told everyone, this child will be a great warrior and loved by the people for his valor and his goodness. You brought her and I much joy. As I told you before, when you were scarcely a year old, a killing fever spread through the villages and to Falconaire, and that is how she died."

Sylva looked sad for a moment and went on, "You see, my first husband Donal had died already, and my Emrys did not come along until years later. I had work to do among my people, so I took you to Queen Fiona, who could not conceive a child. Beldaran and Fiona fostered you. I was joyous to learn you had grown to a fine man and been knighted for your deeds."

As Allwyn solemnly contemplated everything she had told him, Sylva looked up at the sound of hoofbeats. Her husband rode into the clearing, and swept his long gray cloak upward as he dismounted. She went quickly and told Emrys why the warriors and horses waited among the trees. She had not told him that Allwyn was Lancelot's son. Some things were better left unsaid, he thought, although, her husband's powers might well reveal this to him anyway. He might not be as understanding as she, about the impulses of the young and the partings forever that war sometimes brought about. Emrys walked a straight and narrow path of ethics.

Allwyn came to her and asked anxiously, "Do you think Corinna is all right?"

She smiled, "I do think it. Do you believe she is the one meant for you?"

"I am not certain what I believe anymore. If she is the light you said would come and lead me out of my darkness..." He paused and admitted helplessly, "Perhaps I am afraid to let myself love again, and it is hard to trust someone like her. She is different, yet I am drawn..."

The Wise Woman said firmly, "You must tell her your true feelings, and show her as well."

Sylva saw that they had provisions in their saddlebags, and Emrys helped water the horses. As the sun reached the hole in the oaks overhead, Allwyn said farewell.

"Thank you for our sustenance, Grandmere. I am blessed that you are my family, and I no longer feel so alone." He hugged her gently because she seemed frail, but he knew that was not the case.

Sylva beamed, "Go you and fetch your woman, my boy, and start a new life with her."

The band led by Allwyn crossed the stream and left the little house in the glade behind. He was confident from what Emrys said that the livestock thieves came from and returned to the north. Allwyn could believe there was some magic in the Forest of the Charmed, and he had never been apprehensive of it. He asked of the sage, Emrys who rode with them to lead them to the path, "Did your power of distant sight tell you where they hailed from?"

Emrys replied with a wry smile, "Actually, no. I found out when I spotted and followed the cursed sheep stealers. I slipped along behind them in the trees and they led me to a band of knights and soldiers outside a dark stone and timber fortress. I do not know of them, but they plunder farm livestock all through these hills to feed their army!"

"The Black Marauder’s stronghold, I would wager on it, " Allwyn said grimly.

Chapter 15

Corinna peered cautiously over the prow of a coracle bobbing in the river, praying the sentries could not see her in the shadows of the trees. She must get to the shelter of the deep forest before daybreak, and the only way to do this was to cross the river. If anyone spotted her taking the boat, no doubt she would become a sitting duck for an archer atop the fortress walls.

At dawn, she stood in hip deep water, shivering, and shoved the little boat slowly through the shadowy reeds. Once she made it past the giant black rocks that towered adjacent to the frontal wall, she climbed over the side and rolled into the coracle. Taking up the crude oars, she remembered how to use them, thanks to a month of canoeing at summer camp when she was a teen.

She rowed as quietly but furiously as possible against the swift current, recalling that on the trip to the fortress she had heard a waterfall smashing onto rocks below. The muscles in her arms were quivering with weakness and her breath came in gasps, but little by little, she won the race against the swirling black water. Once out of the main current and in shallow water, she used an oar to pole the boat to the riverbank.

Suddenly a shout drifted to her ears, and more followed. The camp had risen for the day and someone had discovered Thomas was tied to the bench and the prisoner gone.

She was out of range of arrows, at least Corinna hoped so as she dashed headlong into the underbrush. Thrashing wildly through the brambles, she knew she must find a trail to make better time.

The men of the Black Fortress would be armed and coming over the bridge by now, even though she had a few minutes head start on them. Struggling to breathe and not panic, she ran into a clearing and glanced frantically around for a way through the huge trees. Suddenly, someone stepped onto the moss covered ground beside her. She froze in terror.

But then, Corinna relaxed and said in great relief, "I know you!" It was the man in the gray cloak who had saved her from the witch hunters of Dunstone, and taken her to the king.

"Yes, my child, come. This way...they be not far behind." His voice was soft but his movements quick and cat-like, as she remembered.

She knew by the sounds behind her in the brush that he was right, and she scurried after him, surprised at his swiftness despite his probable age. But, then, she didn't know if he was old, because his face was again shadowed by the hood. She had no more time to think about whom he might be. They burst into a muddy bog, where his horse and a pack pony were tied to saplings on the bank. He boosted her aboard the fat little pony and lashed his dappled gray to a gallop.

Glad now that she wore a boy's breeches and shirt, Corinna clung to the long mane and clenched her legs around his sides as the little pony lurched and bumped along. As they began to lose her pursuers, and the gruff shouts grew weaker in distance, she thought he was the most beautiful horse she had ever ridden. They galloped on at a brisk pace for awhile, across a fen dappled with moonlit pools of black water, and then into some shadowy hills. They rode on toward the top of the largest rise.

When the first slashes of red streaked the eastern sky, she and her rescuer drew rein and listened. The only sound was that of the river gurgling over a rocky falls into the darkness, and then a distant, eerie scream that sounded not of this world or its creatures. Corinna shivered and looked around in the reluctant twilight. "Where are we...what are those?" She pointed to the circular formations of glistening, pointed rocks.

"This was a gathering place of the Ancient Ones," the man said, "some folk still call it the Druid Tor. It was here I stood on the night Arthur was born, and I watched the Dragon Star rise."

"Dragon star?" Corinna said in awe.

Her mysterious companion replied softly, " My ancestors believed such a star, four widely radiating beams and a long tail, appeared only at the birth of a very great chieftain. Perhaps you will see it back in your time."

Corinna looked at him as he reined the horse around. He knew she was not from this time!

He peered cautiously back the way they came, and started to ride onward.

Corinna noticed how the hilltop appeared scorched all over and had nothing growing upon it, and she wondered what ancient rites may have been performed here. "Where are we going?" she asked the man. Somehow, she felt safe with him, but, she couldn't be sure of that. He pointed to the wetlands below, where the waterfowl were beginning to stir in the earliest fingers of rosy sunlight. She kicked her pony's fat sides and followed him.

They stayed to their course along the marshes and then skirted a stream around a gentle rise in the land. Presently, she heard the rumble of hooves coming toward them, and she looked at the man nervously. "No, my dear," he assured her, "'tis safe. It be your Defender, and Sir Lancelot, leading a war band against the Black Marauder, hoping to bring about your rescue. Go to the road and meet them." He reined his horse around to ride the way they had come.

"Wait!" she cried, "Once again you have rescued me! I feel I know you...Who are you!?"

She urged the pony closer to him. His horse stopped abruptly and the motion caused the gray hood to fall back. The leathery skin of his face had good-humored crinkles and his hair was threaded with bright silver. "Emery!" she gasped. He was younger, looked a bit different...

He turned away, yanking the hood up again. She cried, "You're him, aren't you? As he was in this time?! That's why you protect me!"

He started away, but she pleaded, "Don't just leave! At least tell me what is going to happen! Will I stay..."

He interrupted, "You already know this. There will come a great darkening across the sun and the earth, I believe at the height of summer. The greatest kingdom this land has known will fall. Then it will not be safe and you must go back to your own time. Do not try to change the course of events, and remember, none other can go with you. You must return to your time alone!"

He raised his hand, his horse leapt into the ring of trees and he vanished from her sight.

She sat there on the pony, stunned by what she had learned. Emery Markham...Emrys... He must be a wizard! It was the only explanation, for somehow he lived in both times. Corinna turned the pony toward the sound of hoofbeats coming beyond the trees.

"Allwyn!" she cried, hanging onto her mount's long mane as they climbed a steep embankment to meet the riders. She saw that both Allwyn and another knight beside him had drawn their swords at hearing someone shouting from the thicket.

Then, she was looking up, directly into his face. Allwyn's eyes widened in amazement, and he pulled up so sharply that his horse reared and nearly threw him. The other man held the black's reins while Allwyn dismounted and ran to her. She fell from the pony's back, into his arms. He crushed her to his chest and then swung her feet from the ground, both of them laughing with joy and relief, until she was suddenly crying and clinging fiercely to him, hardly able to believe she was safe in his arms.

He gently set her down and smoothed the tangled hair back from her forehead. "I nearly did not recognize you, but for these beautiful tresses!" He laughed then sobered, looked into her eyes and inquired breathlessly, "Are you all right? They didn't...?"

She said, "I’m fine. Just tired." She told him briefly of her confinement and escape, leaving out the part about Emery, or whoever the man was. "I... ran into a woodsman, and borrowed this pony," she said, "which can run faster than he looks. Thank heaven I was able to get away. Oh, Wyn..." She paused, trembling and breathless as the strain of her ordeal caught up with her.

"God, Corinna," Allwyn whispered as his arms enfolded her tighter. "I feared I would never again hold you like this...."

He looked intently at her face and then up to the heavens, "I thank God above that you are returned to me! I was going to kill every one of them if I had to!"

"Allwyn, be quiet..." she said, and, not thinking once about the three hundred or so men waiting in the road, she wound her hands in his dark hair and pulled his head down for a passionate kiss. He sought her lips like a starving man, and needed no encouragement to follow the first kiss with a longer one. They were both gloriously happy and flushed when they looked up at someone clearing his throat.

"Forgive me.." Allwyn smiled sheepishly, "I found what I so desperately sought, but I have lost my courtesy! Lady Corinna, this is Sir Lancelot, Arthur's first knight. Lancelot, I present Corinna...my lady."

Allwyn found he very much liked the sound of "Corinna, my lady," on his lips.

The knight had stepped down from his palfrey, and now he bowed low to her. She tried not to stare like a child as she managed a small curtsey and a smile. "Sir Lancelot. I am indeed honored to meet you." She was embarrassed, meeting this illustrious man while she was dressed in tattered, ill-fitting boy's clothing! But Lancelot’s smile was genuine and he praised her for a cunning and brave escape. He then took his leave of them and rode back through the ranks of his men. She heard battle plans being circulated.

Corinna exclaimed, "Why can't we just ride to some safe place and forget about attacking them?"

Allwyn gazed at her and finally said, "We must carry on with our plan. As Lancelot has pointed out, while they occupy the stronghold, not a village or traveler in this countryside is safe. My love, we must go and defeat the Marauder. I must see him pay for Beldaran's death, then I will deal with his brother, if he were party to it!"

As Lancelot came back to them, Allwyn lifted Corinna onto the pony. "Have no worry, I shall send you with Gavin and two knights as escort to the Abbey at Dunleah, where you may wait in safety."

"You will not, sir!" She glared at him. "I am fine, and I want to go with you. I can ride well enough and won't be in the way. Besides, I can help you find the fortress!"

They argued on the matter for some time and at last Allwyn looked to Lancelot helplessly. The knight said, "Yours is a lady of courage. Much like the woman I loved during the wars, and still. Let her accompany us, but remain away from the fighting."

They found her a squire's sword and a small shield from the wagon. When the band moved onward, Corinna, Allwyn, and Lancelot rode three abreast, and she glanced over from time to time at the older knight. The woman he mentioned loving was no doubt Arthur's wife Gwenevere. Oh, what she could tell Lancelot about how ill-fated it was, how this perennial affair would help an evil usurper bring down the kingdom! But, she recalled Emery's warning about changing fate. It was doubtful whatever she said to the man would matter, anyway. She had seen the look in his eyes when he spoke of the woman.

The resemblance between father and son was fairly evident. Lancelot was still well-muscled, tall and straight of stature, and only a slight stockiness had formed through his waist. His shoulder length brown curls were peppered with gray, and like Allwyn, he tied his hair back in a laurel twisted band, and wore no helm while traveling. His silver armor was polished to mirror gleaming, and his red surcoat sparkled even through the trail dust with the gold emblems of the Pendragon, Arthur's symbol. His bright blue shield bore a striking red fleur symbol, and Corinna remembered that as a boy he was raised by the Lady of the Lake and later trained as a knight in France. His face was handsomely chiseled and rugged from outdoor living. It was a resigned, somber face. His whole countenance had a deathly grim look as he spoke with his men and Allwyn about the trouble they must end.

A month ago, Arthur had been informed of the problems in Somersea, and had sent Lancelot with an envoy to assess if military aid were needed. Last night, his courier rode like a demon to summon a battalion from Caerleon. And even so, they might be outnumbered.

Corinna heard the name "Mordred" mentioned when a scout rode in with news from across the country. Fighting had broken out; a Saxon horde came against Briton's army on the northern border, and a fleet of Vandali ships lay off the coast of Cornwall. Listening to the talk among the officers, she heard mutterings that Arthur's traitorous nephew already aspired to the throne, and made alliances anywhere and with whose forces he could, hoping to use them later. A band of Picts and borderland rebels were rumored to be aiding the northern invaders, the scout said. Another rider from Caerleon told of a divided court; some nobles, fueled by Mordred’s dissension, had swayed against Arthur and his queen. The destruction of Briton was falling into place and there was nothing to be done. Corinna shivered and recalled Emery's words, Whatever happens, you cannot change the course of history. Do not try. If only she could persuade Allwyn to believe her and to flee his land before the end swept him to peril. But as she watched him confer with his captains, a determined set to his face, she feared her dark haired warrior would fight on relentlessly for his people. To the end.

He said from behind her, "You are a resourceful lady of daring and courage. Not many could have escaped the Black Marauder in that way." His voice was hushed, almost reluctant.

The evening had colored the forest a deep, peaceful hue. Corinna reined her horse to ride beside Allwyn, a little distance from the others. He smiled over at her. She asked, "Why didn't you tell me about your wife and child?"

His silence followed, then he said quietly, "I am not proud of myself for that day. On a hunt for the sport of it, I, the brash and noble prince, while they were..." He broke off, shaking his bowed head. His fist gripped the reins until the knuckles went white.

Corinna reached over and covered his hand with hers. "You shouldn't do this to yourself any longer. There was no way you could have known. They would not want this for you."

A shuddering sigh came from deep inside him, then he looked at her with glinting dark eyes.

"There had been no trouble for years. We grew contented, soft, lax in keeping arms."

"Not now," she said.

"Aye, no longer." Then he frowned with another worry. " I know not if the men of Somersea remain loyal to me. It is likely some will be lured by the promise of power and gold."

"By Corman?"

"Aye. Perhaps Corman and his brother, if we do not end his plans here."

Corrina led the band through the trees, trying to remember the way by which she had escaped the Marauder’s stronghold. She took them along the bog path and through the mossy glade. At the towering rock formation, Allwyn received a report from his scouts that the Black Fortress lay beyond the river. He ordered camp made on a high summit where they could keep close watch in all directions. The tents were erected and provisions brought out, but no cooking fires would be

lit. The element of surprise was their only hope. The men unrolled their bedding and settled down to wait for Lancelot's battalion to arrive.

Allwyn and Corinna brushed the dust from their clothing and quenched their thirst with a cup of cool water from the clear stream. They sat in the grass outside his tent near the wagons. He said, "When this matter is ended, I will take you to the mountains beyond Glamorgan, in Wales, the place where Rhian and Telyn have gone. You shall be safe there."

He watched her with thoughtful eyes a moment, then he surprised her by asking, "In your time...your world, did you know many men?"

Corinna wanted to laugh at the hint of jealousy, but was also pleased to know he accepted her story as the truth. He accepted her just as she came to him. Then she wondered hopefully if, due to his deepest feelings, he was becoming possessive of her. As she already was of him.

She replied carefully, "In my time...the culture is different. Men and women are equal. A woman may be a great leader, someone famous, even a queen. Many women with little means support themselves and a family, alone." she looked at him curiously, wondering if he could comprehend such things. To her surprise, he nodded.

"It is good that women are strong, and they should be equal. My aunt...foster aunt, Rhian, is such a woman, and I have known others."

"Your wife, Ariana?"

"Ariana could have ruled a kingdom. She was gentle yet strong as a willow. Fierce and proud and loyal. My first and only love until we were parted."

Corinna felt warm inside, knowing that in this time, or any, he was a rare find. She wanted to answer his question. "I was just another working girl in the crowded city, going to school at the same time. Yes, there women earn money for themselves. I didn't have much time to meet men. I...um, as you say courted a few but none were right for me. It never lasted. Somehow, I always held to the thought that a special man waited for me, somewhere."

I would never have dreamed that he lived hundreds of years before my time, she said to herself, and smiled at the wonder of it.

Allwyn reached out to her and gently lifted the pendant from between her breasts. "This is a beautiful and rare piece of work. Did you know it belonged to a priestess, a highly regarded woman in those days?" She shook her head and looked up at him.

"Sylva told me," he said, "it was her grandmother’s. The wife of a great chieftain."

" How could she know? What has she to do with my being here, I wonder..."

Allwyn replied, "I am not certain. Perhaps you should ask her."

"My uncle gave this to me. He must be somehow connected to its history." Corinna softly read the dagger's inscription to him, "Love and the Human Spirit Know Not the Boundaries of Time."

He stared at the words for a moment. She knew the question even before he asked it, his eyes gazing intently into hers. "Will you stay in this time, or return to your home?"

Don't make promises you can't keep, a voice inside her mind warned ominously.

"People like me are so spoiled, accustomed to ease and automation. I...could never make anyone here really understand how it is..." She shrugged and exclaimed, "You would not like my world in my time. In some ways it is good you were born now, Allwyn."

He stated seriously, "No matter what time I lived in, I could survive and adapt well."

Corinna smiled and replied skeptically, "I'm not so sure...fast food, freeways and electricity would be quite a change for you." She proceeded to try and explain these things to him.

He interrupted, "Do you want to go back, Corinna?"

She shook her head, smiled, and wondered if she was being truthful. All right, I do miss department stores and take out food and libraries... Then her very soul cried, No, Allwyn, I don't want to go away from you! She could not speak for the tightness in her chest, and knew suddenly she had to leave the tent or he would see the tumult that seethed inside her.

"Excuse me. I'm going out to take a bath," she told him, and ducked through the opening.

Allwyn stood alone fighting an ache deep inside him. Then he rose to follow her, for he wanted to be sure she remained safe. How can I know this unless I watch her every move? He saw her slip through the brush that lined the river, removing the shirt as she went, and he caught a glimpse of a soft white back curving gracefully as a swan before she disappeared into the water.

He paused beside the thicket, his throat tight and his heart hammering softly like a distant war drum. He fought for the old self-discipline that she somehow seemed to rob from him, and recounted the words of the Wise Woman when she first told him about Corinna. "She will be different in her ways and may seem not as a lady should, for the time she comes from is very different. But make no mistake, she is a lady. Her people, and the rules and rights of their culture are not like yours."

Allwyn listened to her splashing in the pool, hidden from his sight by the thick foliage between them. What would she do if he suddenly appeared at the water near her. Would she gasp in shock and indignation, or smile saucily and dare him to join her? In desperation, he willed himself not to think how her naked body would look with rivulets of water running down pale skin lit a soft molten gold by the setting sun. With a will of steel, he forced himself to turn around, and strode in the opposite direction, going downstream until he found a large outcropping of granite that hid the rest of the river from view. He flung off his clothing and plunged his heated body into the brisk waters.

The sun spread a crimson fan above the dark rise of forest and the rocky hills, and the air was scented with wildflowers that grew along the river bank. Corrina lingered in the secluded pool at a bend in the river, and, taking some soap she had borrowed from the tent, she gratefully scrubbed her body in the cool waters. When she had dressed again in the boy's clothing, she returned to the circle of tents. The camp was quiet. The travel-weary men had gone to sleep save for the guards posted around the rim of the forest. She ducked inside the candlelit tent, and found Allwyn had also bathed, apparently in another part of the river. His damp hair curled around his tanned neck and face, and his body beneath the unbuttoned shirt was beaded with moisture. She wondered if he had secretly watched her while she was naked in the stream. The very thought excited her, and her heart began to pound.

But, she recalled that during the ride here, she had tried subtly to make him aware that she cared for him, and he had done nothing but ignore her. After his initial surprised reaction at finding her safe, his tenderness seemed to be replaced by a remoteness. She noted there were two bedrolls tossed on opposite sides of the interior.

Allwyn began shaving a hunk of cheese with his dagger. "I have only this, and some of Rhian's bread and wine," he said, "I am certain it is not the fare you are accustomed to..."

"Right now," she laughed, "I would eat even Terra's overdone oat cakes. Cardew apparently hadn’t much care about feeding prisoners. I am famished."

Allwyn handed her a generous slice of the bread loaf and a hunk of cheese, then he poured an earthen cup full of dark wine. He asked, "Did it seem to you that Cardew had a large army in the fortress?"

She nodded, "From all the sounds I heard, horses, men and weapons, I think he might."

He was silent awhile, then he looked at her with eyes like polished onyx in the candlelight. "I have learned who my mother was," he said quietly.

"Yes? Who?"

"The Wise Woman's daughter. Her name was Ellylw, she was Welsh. She was young and died of the fever when I was barely a year old. Sylva arranged for my fostering at the court of Falconaire."

Corrina exclaimed, "So, Sylva is your grandmother!"

"Yes. I was a child of the Bel-tain fires. Do you know what that is?"

"I have studied the history of your land's ancestors. The men and women dance and pair off in a...mating ceremony to celebrate the harvest and honor their Goddess." She trembled inside, feeling sensuous and warm as she had a sudden fantasy of the two of them lying on the earth together under the harvest moon.

Allwyn nodded and sliced more bread and cheese. She sipped her wine, watched him, and mused contentedly. He has accepted the truth and will carry on just as I did when my parents died. He has the look of one who knows he can rely on himself, royal ancestry be damned.

She watched his bronzed, lean hands working deftly, and realized with a jolt that she wanted to feel those hands on her skin, caressing her all over. She still couldn't quite comprehend this crazy emotion that ripped through her each time she thought of him, but somewhere on her way through the marshes as she fled Cardew, she knew with a certainty that she wanted Allwyn the Defender. Wanted him for hers, and hers alone, for however long she could stay here. Maybe it was being so close to peril and surviving, that she needed to make the most of her time left with him. She looked at the tent flap, wishing to just close it and go into his arms and lose herself in sweet, reckless abandon. But would he be so willing to unchain the longings she knew were hidden inside his cool exterior. If he was Sylva's grandson, he possessed fiery Celtic blood. Was his newer code of honor and his religious teachings so imbedded in him that he would think her a brazen woman of the world, or worse, a slut with the morals of a camp follower? She held back, trying to stop her gaze from devouring the curve of his mouth, his dark eyelashes, the rippling muscles of his tawny chest where the linen shirt was carelessly unbuttoned. He finished his wine with a long draught and turned to spread out one of the bedrolls. Then, as if he felt her watching he turned, looked up at her, and his dark eyes held a smoldering, subtle question.

"Wyn..." she said in a soft voice, barely able to speak for the exhilarating beat in her throat.

He rose slowly to his feet and stood before her, "Yes, my lady?" His gaze was riveting, lit with a silvery fire.

His low, enchanting voice melted her inside and made her heart quicken with anticipation. But she would not appear too forward, not to Allwyn. When she opened her mouth to reply, no words came, instead she stared up at him, her lips parted. Her chest felt as if it would explode with the tension around them. Then, at last, his hand reached out to her. His long, tapered fingers slid through her unbound tumble of hair.

He murmured throatily as he moved closer, "Your tresses are like a raven's wing, soft, dark and shining, and you move as gracefully as a bird in flight. I shall call you my Raven."

She swallowed the lump of overwhelming desire in her throat, and continued to gaze silently up at him with widened eyes, her body trembling. No man in her modern world would speak to her like this, or evoke these kind of feelings, she well knew. Just as she opened her mouth to murmur a reply, his hand glided down the side of her neck. She saw in his dark, flame sparked eyes a heated longing, and something else...undeniable adoration for her. No longer would he try to hide it, she realized, and neither would she. This was their magic moment of surrender.

She felt his thumb run up and down her throat languorously, and then his other hand went to the nape of her neck, stroking her there over and over. She had to force herself not to whimper with joy.

"I have never seen skin of ivory satin like yours," he murmured huskily, "It invites my lips and hands to touch you all over..."

Corinna inhaled sharply, shivers of excitement traveled from her head to her toes. Never had she been romanced with words and caresses like these, and oh, how she enjoyed it!

She could not wait to hear what he might say next. She held his gaze and whispered his name with passionate yearning, "Oh, Wyn..."

His gaze left her face to travel over her body, and he drank her in with hungry eyes as his hands closed possessively around her upper arms. She released a low moan which she could no longer restrain. The look and scent of him so close caused a surge of desire to swell within her.

He eased the shirt from her shoulders and murmured, "You should not have to wear boy's clothing. You deserve to wear the finest laces, satins and silks. I shall see that you have them, and everything you desire."

Everything? You, your heart and soul? She almost asked it, but instead she drew back and said in a teasing tone, "If not for these clothes of the guard boy, I would be on my way to somebody's harem by now."

He replied with intensity, "I would have single-handedly torn that fortress apart, and then moved heaven and earth to find you."

Mesmerized by his words and delighted by his tender, husky voice, Corinna was unable to offer even a token protest when he slid the laces of her shirt undone. Lifting her head slightly, she studied his face as he slid the garment down to caress her shoulders. He seemed as enthralled by her body as she was by his voice, and he had not seen her completely naked yet. How would he look, when...?

Then his warm, shaking hand slid beneath the homespun wool to caress her waist and hips. He is trembling, she thought excitedly, he is anticipating the pleasure we will share as much as I am.

He spread the shirt apart to reveal her breasts, and he whispered, "Ah, Corinna....You are even more beautiful than I dreamed. And I have dreamed of nothing or no none but you."

She was again unable to speak. He bewitched her with his touch, his eyes and his words.

When his adoring hands cupped her breasts and his fingers brushed her budded nipples she sighed, her lips parted slackly with desire. She did not succeed in keeping her gaze from his body, straining the tight trousers he wore. She saw clearly the effect she worked on him. He moaned, "Oh, my darling Corinna! You are...I am..."

"Don't talk, my sweet Defender," she commanded softly, "just kiss me."

In an instant his lips caught hers, and unrestrained, he began to hungrily grind his desire into her. His arms trapped her warm and tight against him, and then her feet left the floor of the tent as he lifted her. She threw her arms around his neck in complete surrender, and felt his hardness pulse against her thigh. This was it, there would be no turning back. Tonight was theirs to have for the memories, no matter what the future would bring.

Suddenly he broke their deep kiss and seemed to hesitate, and Corinna could hardly restrain the disappointed wail that rose inside. She shook her head fiercely and implored, "Wyn! Please don't stop!" and she wound her arms around his hard waist, pressing her mouth to his. He groaned in surrender. When he finally ended the kiss, it was to whisper a question huskily, "This is not just because you are grateful that I came to find you, or the effect of giddiness once a terrible experience has passed? Because if that is what..."

"No! No...I have wanted you for a long time. Really, since we first met!"

"Then it is truly your wish to lie with me tonight, Corinna?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly, "Oh, yes!"

Sinking to his knees, he gently lay her upon his bedroll. He removed her shirt completely and lowered his head to her breasts, his thick dark hair falling to sweep across her bare skin. He began by kissing each taut nipple so lightly it reminded her of sweet summer rain on her skin. Circling each one with the tip of his tongue, then suckling, he slowly drove her to a frenzy. Her head rolled from side to side as tremors of piercing pleasure raced through her. From a blissful daze she saw him work at the laces of his trousers until he removed them. He began unlacing her own breeches and slid them downward, all the while kissing his way down her stomach and lower still. He tossed them aside and trailed his tongue downward until he found the dark patch between her legs. She cried out at the wild thrill his hot tongue gave her. More and more pleasure he built for her, then, when she was on the brink of surrendering to the ecstasy, he left her trembling and kissed his way on to her thighs, her knees, her feet, and back upward again.

He sat back on his knees, yanked the linen shirt over his head and tossed it aside. For the first time she had a good view of his nakedness, and the sight was indeed wonderful. He was a beautiful male, although his body bore many harsh scars of battle. In her eyes he was built most magnificently, bulging, tawny golden and glistening, with a dusting of dark chest hair that matched the curled patch at his lower torso.

She had never seen another man who thrilled her to staring, so entranced.

"Wyn, please," she murmured, unable to conceal the desperation in her voice, "Hurry..."

He needed no urging. As if spurred into motion he brushed the hair away from her eyes in a tender gesture, and lowered his body on top of hers. Their tongues found each others in a deep, consuming kiss, and then he circled her heated wetness with the tip of him until she arched up, pleading, "Now, my darling Wyn, now..."

Allwyn could wait no more. She gasped at the initial shock of their connection as he filled her, then she began to thrash beneath him in wild desire. They surged like two flames together, moving as one, gaining momentum in the most beautiful rhythm she had ever known. She wound her legs around his straining thighs and spread her hands along his powerful backside, reveling in the feel of his hard, vibrant flesh beneath her palms. The power and fieriness of him enthralled her, consumed her, and she heatedly whispered his name again and again.

He moaned her name in reply, driving himself deeper and faster into her pulsing heat. The moment was close; she could not wait for him much longer. Between her thighs had spread an unbearable, white hot ecstasy. Her breath came in ragged gasps of pleasure. But soon apparent to her, he could wait no more either. He cried out throatily as their bodies reached the ultimate edge of the chasm and dropped them over into complete satisfaction.

Only then, as they lay still clinging together, their breath slowing after the blissful release, did Corinna remember. She glanced over to one side and then whispered in his ear, "Oh, no, Allwyn... The flap!"

He stroked her hair and lifted his head languidly. He peered at the wall of the tent and saw a triangle framing dark trees and stars in the night sky. He planted more soft kisses across her shoulder before he replied with a grin, "Don't worry so, my sweet one. The camp is sleeping soundly."

"As we should be," she giggled, not caring if she slept at all tonight. Not while they could be alone together.

He chuckled softly in her ear, "If you think sleep is what I have in mind for us, you are quite mistaken, my lovely Raven. But, if it makes you feel more secure, I shall close the flap before our next time..."

Chapter 16

The sun had pierced through the pine boughs and the birds were noisily greeting the new day when Corinna and Allwyn came out of the tent, holding hands. She had borrowed his linen undertunic which fit her like a short shift. "I will say, that garment is much more fetching on you. Albeit, I don't like so much of my woman showing," he grumbled.

She swatted him playfully with a saddle blanket, then tied it around her waist like a sarong skirt and strolled carefree past the camp toward the river.

They came upon Lancelot, who, having had his bath, sat under a willow tree, shirtless. At first he seemed to be staring into the morning sun and did not realize anyone was close by. The great knight always masked any emotion well, but Corinna saw the pain in his eyes before he became aware they were near. Then he smiled in greeting, "good morn, lovely lady, and Sir Allwyn. The day looks to be bright."

Allwyn spoke with him about the direction the band should take. Corinna saw Lancelot smile broadly at something amusing he said and throw an arm around his shoulders in a comrade-like manner. She thought, the man considers Allwyn a fellow knight and has no idea he speaks to his son. Should I tell him? She wondered if would ease a little of the sadness that Lancelot sometimes could not hide completely. It must be a never ending torture, to love someone you could never make your own, for years and years as he did Gwenevere. And, not so long ago he had experienced heartbreaking failure on the Grail quest. But one could tell that from somewhere deep inside, he was still driven to be a great warrior. His spirit might seem subdued and somber, but it still burned. Like Allwyn and Telyn, he would fight to the death for his king and country.

Is that how I will look after I can no longer be with Allwyn? No, she would be strong, because she had to be, like always. Make the most of today, and let tomorrow take care of itself. Somehow, that now didn't seem so easy. Corinna shook off her mood and followed Allwyn to the river bank.

They walked upstream and found a hidden spot behind some rocks where they stripped off their clothes and waded in. "Ohhh! It's icy!" she gasped. After her body adjusted, she swam a few strokes, then let the water slip around her like a cool silk glove. In the center of the pool she noted that standing chest deep she could see the sandy bottom. Not even in her camping days in the Rocky Mountains had she seen waters so clear. She drew in a breath of pure, brisk, pollution free air, and savored the fresh morning. It was good to be alive and here in this place. If Emery was wrong, and she never returned to the modern world, could she be content here, always? If she could lie in her warrior's arms every night, Corinna was sure she could be totally happy. Suddenly the thought of parting with him forever was unbearable.

She watched Allwyn reach onto the bank and take a square of soap from his saddlebag. "Hey, big fellow, share that with me. Why, it's one that Gwenith showed me how to make at Falconaire. Smell. It's much too strong with lavender!"

He sniffed and laughed, "So it is! The enemy will be forewarned we are coming, by our delightful scent!" He came to her and proceeded to lather her back with his strong hands. Corinna enjoyed his touch today almost as much as last night, and she blushed every time she remembered those hours of fiery bliss in his arms. He had not been the least bit put off when she introduced a few new things in lovemaking, in fact he was a brilliant learner.

He moved behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder. Exploring, caressing, his gentle hands ignited her need for his body. He makes me insatiable, she thought in wonder, I have never knew anything like this existed. But this was neither the time nor place, so she laughed, slithered playfully away from his caresses and snatched the soap from him.

"Your turn," she smiled, and took pleasure in vigorously lathering his broad, muscled back. "Do you miss Falconaire a lot?" she asked.

"I do, a little. But I have been a wayfaring warrior as well as a noble. If it comes to it, we shall leave here and I can build a new home where there is peace and safety."

"Have you told him yet?"

"Told who? What?"

She said in consternation, "you know perfectly well what I mean."

"No, I have not."

"Why? He would want to know!"

"It would change things too much. Besides, he already has a son, or perhaps he does."

"What do you mean?"

"They are not sure if Galahad will return from the Grail Quest, or if he died." Then Allwyn turned and left the water, saying, "I do not feel like speaking of something so serious this lovely morning." He feigned leaving her, then suddenly whirled, jumped in and ducked her under. She came up sputtering in indignation and splashed him, then swam away swift as an otter, squealing as he pursued her closely. They lingered in the secluded pool and played like carefree children. Then, refreshed, they dressed, had breakfast, and lolled on the grassy bank watching the sparkling waters flow past. For most of the morning they forgot the coming battle.

When his battalion arrived, Lancelot, the seasoned war strategist, took out a piece of charcoal and a parchment square. He drew a map of the Black Fortress as described by his scouts who slipped close to the river bank where it lay. Allwyn and his captains gathered around to hear the plan, and Corinna listened from where she had been napping against the trunk of a great oak.

Lancelot spoke, "No doubt the Marauder has reinforced that old Saescen stronghold, thinking to make it impossible to penetrate." He said with irony, "I was with Arthur when we took it from barbarians twenty years ago, and now I take it again from our own kind in keeping peace and justice." He explained how the steep, slippery rocks that formed the frontal base made it impossible for anyone to scale those walls, and everywhere archers and spearmen would be planted along the battlements. He gave his archery captain orders, "have your men ready with the oil-dipped arrows, and rain a fiery surprise inside the fortress. We will at least destroy some buildings and supplies that way, should my first plan fail."

"First plan?" Allwyn inquired.

"The bastard chose the place well for his purpose," Lancelot said. "He has rerouted the river to flow along the whole frontal wall, with a narrow bridge leading to the iron clad gate. Twenty men planted there could hold off a whole army indefinitely. I think the quickest way, maybe the only we may get inside is by using a diplomatic ploy."

"What?" Every man who heard this stared at the knight. "This Cardew of Bris is not the diplomatic sort, I can tell you..." Allwyn said.

"He might be expecting Allwyn of Smersea to come charging in for a fray," Lancelot explained with a gleam in his eye, "But he does not know that I am allianced with him. I shall have several men dress in cloaks to cover their weapons and appear as my fellow ambassadors from Arthur's court. I shall tell him I bring a favorable message from the High King. If he believes this, we shall ride invited through the gates, and thus, find a way to open them again for you."

Allwyn raised his cup of mead to the knight, "Sir Lancelot, that is a daring plan! But what if you are immediately discovered as armed warriors?"

"I am counting on your forces and mine to pour through those gates as soon as they are opened. Come on foot, since it will be faster than mounted men trying to cross that bridge."

Allwyn nodded. "At the same time I shall have positioned my archers in the trees all around to stop any assault on us from the wall. Marlon has ladder ropes that hook over the wall crenellations, so that we may get in the back, using shields to block their arrows."

Lancelot nodded in approval, and the strategy was relayed to all the ranks. He then instructed several officers to don their best mantles.

"Pray for us," He said to Allwyn and Corinna as he and his "ambassadors" prepared to ride to the fortress. They assured him they would. Allwyn placed both hands on his broad shoulders and said, "God go with you, great knight, 'til we meet again."

Lancelot's smile lit his whole face. "'Til then, my son."

Both Corinna and Allwyn looked sharply at him, and Corinna exclaimed, "What did you say? You know that he's your son!?"

He nodded, and clasped Allwyn’s hand with both his own. "The Wise Woman told me when we camped there. I was filled with joy, but unfortunately, by long habit I mask my emotions in silence. Someday, when there is time, I shall try to explain everything, but now, I will make no excuses and expect no pardons. For now, I say only that I am quite proud to know such a man as you, Sir Allwyn, is a son of mine."

He bowed to them, mounted his stallion, and rode away at the head of his "ambassadors."

Cardew, in his greed, was quite intrigued that Arthur wanted to make him an offer of lands and a castle, and the gate was drawn up for Lancelot and his dozen cloaked men. It was only a short time until a din arose and suddenly the gate came up again. Allwyn wasted no time charging inside with the warriors. They would tell later of how he fought his way through countless men to find Lancelot cornered atop a hay wagon, valiantly trying to hold off twenty swordsmen. His men kept back an enemy of impossible odds as well. Lancelot had already killed Cadrew, who attacked him upon discovering the gate being opened.

Allwyn brought the aid of several men to the rescue, and the fighting spread across the dusty yard and inside the hall and garrison.

Corinna waited in the thicket on the hill with Gavin, the squire whom Allwyn had instructed to guard her "with his very life." If the battle went against them, he was to help her flee back to Sylva and the mage. She bit her nails to the quick and prayed and paced in a circle. The sounds of the fray came to her ears often on the wind. As dusk came on she saw flames lighting the sky and the forest.

"’Tis a good sign that the battle goes our way," Gavin told her. "They must be burning the inside of the fortress."

Well into the night, the clashes of steel and the shouts began to recede, then they ceased completely. Gavin rode in closer to learn the news and returned to her beaming, "Many ships sail from the cove, and several more are burning. The battle is over, they are singing in victory and the War Falcon’s banner is raised above the battlements."

Giddy with relief and whispering a prayer of thanks, Corinna led the pony down the hill and met Allwyn who was coming for her. "Wyn! I was so scared for you! Thank God you're safe..." she said, coming into his arms. Then she noticed her embrace caused him to wince in pain. "You are wounded!" She helped remove his hacked breastplate, pulled back the torn, bloody front of his tunic and gasped at the nasty cut.

"One of Cadrew's men came at me with an ax, after I thought him past any fighting," he gritted through his teeth, "But ‘tis not all that deep."

She made her way past the still smoldering huts and burned hay, and found water and some cotton cloth on the supply wagon. After she cleansed and bound his wound, Corinna brought Allwyn fresh water to drink. He did not heed her pleas to lie quietly, but stood up and called to Marlon. He commanded his captain, "Put Cardew's head on a pike and take it to Falconaire. Display it at the outer gates to serve notice this is how we deal with traitors."

Corinna looked at him sharply. He ignored her and muttered, "Would that I had been the one to finish Cardew." Then he smiled coldly, "At least Beldaran is avenged and justice served, and the Black Marauder's reign of terror is ended."

"Unless," Marlon said, "The Dark Knight survived the terrible wound you gave him."

"If that proves to be so, we shall deal with him as well," Allwyn said.

"What of the prisoners we have rounded up?" Marlon inquired, "There are some women and children among them."

"Set the women and children to cleaning up the burned debris and re-thatching the roofs of the stone houses. The men must be executed." Again he avoided Corinna's horrified look.

She turned and hurried outside, a cold knot forming in her stomach. How could she have thought she had fallen for a man who was so barbaric? She realized such were the customs of his time, this time, but she had gone bitterly cold inside. He caught up to her as she entered what was left of the hall, and he said in a gentler voice, "I have sent a rider to Glamorgan to learn if Rhian, Telyn and Kieva arrived there safely, as I assume they did."

"Will you return to Falconaire?" she asked stiffly.

"Not immediately. I think we should stay here awhile. I will have the stone buildings that did not burn repaired for housing. My men can hunt game and grow crops and even bring their families here, and we shall be safe." He smiled almost maliciously, "You see, Corman and his brother tried to steal my home, and now I have taken theirs." He reached out for her.

Corinna slipped away from his touch, and shook her head. "That is not a good way to think, nor to live."

"You come from a very different time and place. I understand that," he said. "And if it please the lady..." His chin lifted as if it hurt his stubborn pride to admit what he was about to, but then he said, "I have since changed my orders concerning the men prisoners. They will form a work detail, chained and under my captain's watchful eyes. As for Cardew's body, it will be buried intact in the forest." He added fiercely, "And may the worms devour even his evil bones."

Her eyes met his with a hopeful light in them, but before she could reply, Lancelot strode into the hall amid a clinking of mail. "I must take my leave. Arthur’s courier came saying I am needed, for there is trouble on the eastern border," he said.

He and Allwyn embraced in farewell, and Lancelot said, "Bring your fair lady and come hence to Caerleon. I wish to announce you as my son to the high court."

"Aye, maybe we will come," Allwyn said. "Until I next see you, God keep you safe, father."

That rare smile lit the older knight's face for a moment, transforming it to that of a younger man. "And may he keep you as well, my son. You gave a splendid account of yourself here. Once again, I am quite proud of you."

They heard the thud of his horse's hooves receding as he rode to the gate. Corinna looked at Allwyn and could not hide the sadness for what she knew would happen. She went into his arms and lay her cheek against the base of his throat.

"What is it, my love?" He sensed she was troubled. She would not keep it from him any longer. She told him about the battle of Camlann and the fall of Briton's greatest king.

""Tis hard to believe this will come! Can not someone stop Mordred?" he cried vehemently.

When she told him there was nothing to be done, Allwyn clenched his fists and cursed, then he was silent awhile as they held each other tight.

"Will Lancelot die as well?" he asked in a strained voice. "He once said if he were no longer one of Arthur's Round Table, then he was nothing."

She replied, "I don't think he will die in battle. The stories have it that after Arthur died, he returned to the monastery and became a hermit monk."

"Thus, he will have come full circle," Allwyn said with a kind of wonderment in his voice.

Corinna followed Allwyn to the house that Cardew had previously occupied before his defeat. She helped to tend the wounded alongside the women who lived in the fort, and later they went to clean up the damaged buildings. As Allwyn was seeing to the prisoners work detail, Corinna noticed something familiar about the lad who stood on the ladder and worked with the others at replacing a roof. "Thomas!" she said. "You're all right?"

The boy's round eyes stared at her in surprise, then he mumbled, "I suppose I am, m'lady. Better off than I might have been, an’...better off than me poor father." He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut for an instant, then said quietly, "My father died defending this place."

Corinna gasped, "Oh, no!" feeling heartsick for him. "I am so sorry, Thomas."

He raised his head proudly and said in a solemn voice, "I shall now have to serve the man they call the Defender, so I shall serve him well."

Corinna put her arm around the boy’s thin shoulders. "Allwyn is a good man, Thomas, a much better man than Cardew. He spared your lives when the captain was ready to...well, let's just say, Allwyn the Defender is not consumed with greed and has some compassion for his fellow man, unlike your former chieftain. Look, when you finish here, come to the cooking fires and I will see you have something to eat."

"Thank you, m'lady," the boy said with a grateful smile, and he climbed the ladder with an armload of thatching.

Allwyn helped her carry their bedding to the hall where they spread it beside the hearth. He sat with her and touched her cheek in a caress, but she saw the weariness in his eyes. "Lie here and get some rest, Wyn," she implored, "You try to do everything for everyone, but you're only human."

He said gently, "I must see that all here have lodging and food. But, I will come to you later."

After she helped the women cook stew and bake loaves in a crude earthen oven, Corinna returned to find Allwyn had fallen prey to exhaustion and lay fast asleep, fully clothed, sprawled on the floor of the hall. She gazed down at his peaceful face, the lines of care and the scars all smoothed away in the glow of the embers. An overwhelming rush of tenderness for him brought tears to her eyes. I can scarcely believe how I want and need him, she thought, not just for awhile, but forever. She gently pushed the stray strands of hair back from his face, covered him with his cloak and wrapped herself in beside him, laying her head on a folded saddle blanket.

When she awoke, the morning sun streamed through the open doorway and the narrow hall was scattered with others who had bedded down. Allwyn had already risen and was asking his squire to bring a jar of water. As he washed the previous day's battle grime away at a basin, he said to her, "Someone must go out and persuade the same farmers that fed Cardew's army to furnish supplies for ours, if there is anything left. Would you care to come with me?"

"Sure. It is a beautiful day for riding." Not only that, the thought of having him all to herself very much intrigued Corinna.

They rode north among the bright green hills for several miles before they found a piled rock wall that surrounded thatched houses and a garden. Beyond that lay a patch of trampled grain. A small man with a weathered face in which most of the front teeth were missing blocked their path to the door of the largest house. Several more folk in peasant dress gathered to stand behind him, and Corinna saw that they held scythes or axes in their hands. "Nay more!" The small man declared bravely. "We willna have our crops taken and our people starve any longer. Bring your evil dark knights. We will fight you to the death, every last one of us."

"You need not fear the Marauder’s men, I have defeated him. I am Allwyn the Defender, of Somersea, and I come in peace, to ask if..."

"Summer...see?" they shook their heads and muttered, in a language that sounded to Corinna like Gaelic, then they came toward them, crude weapons raised menacingly.

"They've never heard of it, or of you," she said to Allwyn, whose hand shifted to the pommel of his sword.

He looked at her in consternation, "I need Telyn and his diplomacy here. How would he handle this?"

"Tell them we will trade silver for food. Do you have some?"

"I buried it at the fort, save for this belt."

"Give it to me."

She swept the hood of her cloak back so the peasants could see she was a woman, and said, "If you give us whatever you can spare, we will give you this. It is valuable heavy silver that belonged to the son of a king."

Several pairs of eyes gleamed as they perused the ornate belt, and although she wasn't sure they understood her speech, they seemed to know that the silver was to trade for their crops. Several women nodded and hustled to the back of the main house, and the men followed. They moved a stack of hay that revealed a cellar door set in the hillside. A few scrambled inside.

Allwyn smiled and said to Corinna, "The poor souls dared to hide enough from Cardew to see them through until harvest. No worry, with this silver I daresay they can buy several wagon loads at the markets in Bris."

The small man helped them strap the bags full of oats, potatoes and corn on the pack horses, then he snatched the belt from Corinna with a nod. "You are quite the trader, my sweet one, " Allwyn smiled at her as they rode into the forest.

They made their way toward the fortress, laughing as they wagered how many bowls of stew

this produce would make when mixed with Aleric's game from the hunt. "Enough for a month and for an army," he swore, "What with the way that cook waters it down."

It was late afternoon when they paused to rest the horses in a shady area beneath some

willow trees, tethering them in a nearby thicket. Allwyn spread his cloak on a carpet of lush

green moss. He held out his hand to her without saying a word, but his glowing dark eyes said

everything as she came into his arms. Now that the danger of the last days was past, Corinna suddenly felt lighthearted and playful.

"I was hoping we didn't have to hurry back," she smiled with a touch of mischief before their lips met eagerly.

After one kiss, however, he pulled back. Without releasing her, he murmured teasingly, "And why is it you wish to tarry in these woods with me?"

She replied saucily, "Maybe I like taking my time when on a trip with a handsome man."

"Just how much time, my little enchantress?"

"Oh...let's say, enough to play awhile."

His expressive brows went up, "Ah. So the lovely lady wants to play, eh?"

"Yes. How about a game of tag?" She tapped his shoulder and darted away laughing at his bewildered look, "You're IT!"

"I am...it? What is this game?"

"One that I played when I was a child. It is popular in my time. Now you must tag me and make me IT." She laughed tauntingly at him, out of reach. "But first, you have to catch me!"

She rushed away across the glade, and this time he hurried after her, chuckling, "I shall catch you easily, you little minx!" He caught up with his long strides and reached for her, but she ducked behind a rock and avoided his touch.

"Ach!" he complained, "you are like a woods sprite, you do not play fairly!" He grabbed for her again and missed as she swung behind a tree. She laughed at him, "I told you that you have to catch me, that's how the game goes."

"And catch you I shall, my beauty!" he vowed, and then turned his back and walked away.

She could not resist and came from the trees, creeping closer. Without warning he pounced in her direction, but she again avoided his grasp. He landed flat on the ground, but his hand snaked out and closed around her ankle. Before she realized what was happening he had snared her, caught her hands and pulled her down with him. Then she lay on a soft bed of moss with Allwyn straddling her. He pinned her wrists to the ground on each side of her head and kissed her.

"I win your game," he proclaimed triumphantly. "Now, where is my prize?"

"Ah ha," she laughed up at him, "You catch on quickly!"

She wanted him right now, and desperately, but she resisted the urge to say so. "No prize," she replied, "I'm IT now."

"Wrong, Corinna," his eyes glistened with desire as he stared down at her. "You are my prize!"

And with that, he covered her, stretching his long legs over hers. His lips caught hers again, and it was different from their first moments of intimacy in the tent. This time he undressed her more carefully, without so much desperation, but his fingers traced over her in a cherishing expression of tender desire. His movements were less calculated but more spontaneous today, like he hadn't planned to do this, but now that they were here together, he would be the best lover she had ever known. He was already that, by far, although she hadn't told him so.

Allwyn became heated inside to a fever pitch, and the urge to sheath himself in the sweet haven of her was almost more than he could bear, but he wanted to bring her to heights she had never thought possible, build her desire until she begged for his fulfillment. He continued to take his time, touching, kissing, teasing until she writhed against him.

Her impatient hands helped him with her clothes, and then she unlaced his tunic and he removed the rest. Naked, they whispered and kissed and fondled until neither could bear the waiting and they joined, first with her rocking atop his long body, straddling him, then he rolled her beneath him to take command. Today, Corinna thought feverishly, while they had this time together, she would memorize every inch of his wonderful golden-bronze body. She gave her hands free rein over the smooth rises and hard plains of him, traced every battle scar and felt the moisture of his sweat, as he wound one hand in her hair and caressed her up and down with the other. They soared together, lost in the throes of desire, moaning, writhing, in a joyful mating on a bed of velvety moss.

When she could no longer bear the excruciating ecstasy he gave her, she cried out again and again, giving herself over to the pleasure assaulting her loins. Moments later, Allwyn's loud groan seemed torn from deep inside him. He shuddered and then lay against her, trembling as he kissed her face softly. Corinna stayed inside his arms, bound in the warm contentment and knew he was as awed by their glorious reuniting as she.

Chapter 17

"I do not need another squire," Allwyn growled when she introduced Thomas. "Gavin is a most trustworthy young man."

Corinna was insistent, "Couldn't he be...like an apprentice under Gavin, for the day when Gavin is knighted or married?"

"How old are you son?" Allwyn inquired of the boy.

"Twelve, my lord. But I am good with a sword!"

"All right, Thomas. Let us see how good you are." Allwyn removed his weapon from its scabbard, and the boy's eyes widened at the magnificent piece of crafted metals.

"What shall I attack?" he asked eagerly.

Allwyn flipped a square of chamois at him, "Attack with this cloth, lad, and polish my sword

until it shines like the sun. That is if you can lift it. Then you can oil my boots, bridle, and saddle."

Although he scowled a bit, Thomas did not seem all that disappointed, Corinna noted. He seemed to take to the idea of being an apprentice squire.

They sat outside the hall at sunrise, sharing rye cakes from the earthen oven and milk from a farm cow that one of the hunters found wandering through the forest. Corinna told him of her concern. "Peace in this land will be short lived, it is best you know. War and invaders will soon sweep over it and its people must leave or die."

"Have no worry of that, my love." Allwyn's eyes were full of anticipation as he told her about the untouched, misty mountains of Wales. "We shall go to that distant place and dwell with Rhian and Telyn for a time, while I build us a home. Our people at Falconaire may come and we can start a new settlement. First, you and I will be married. What do you say, my beauty? Will you be my wife?"

Corinna's heart leapt with joy. But then... She looked into his intense, beautiful dark eyes and knew she would give up her world to be able to say yes. But now, she must tell him the truth, she had no choice. "Allwyn, you know I would love to marry you..."

Her words were halted at that moment by a wide eyed boy who ran up to them. "My liege!" he cried, "There is a rider from Falconaire at the gate! He says come quickly!"

Upon seeing the messenger, Allwyn exclaimed, "It is Ahern's son, Giles!"

The young man standing beside his lathered mount was covered with mud, and he gulped greedily at the cup of water that Allwyn offered him. He wiped his mouth with his hand and spoke his message, "I slipped away at Lady Rhian's request! She and Telyn were stopped by Corman's men as they boarded the ship, and are held prisoners! Corman has declared himself king of Somersea, and he stated that unless the Lady marries him, he will execute Telyn for their treachery. The wedding is set for the Day of Maying."

Corinna looked at Allwyn in dismay, knowing how Rhian loathed Corman. He said somberly, "I know the lady. She will sacrifice herself to save Telyn, her kinsman."

Marlon had overheard the rider's bad news, and he said, "Corman has used his army to take the ruling seat at Somersea, but no one should decide that, save Arthur himself."

"Aye," Allwyn agreed, his face dark with worry. "But the King is further away, perhaps even in battle and there is not time to send him a message! We must ride for Falconaire and free them, somehow." He asked of the rider, "Can you draw me an accurate map of the chambers in Falconaire, showing the location of the one where the lady is held?"

"I believe so, my liege."

Corinna brought Giles a piece of vellum and a charcoal stick, since no quill pens were in supply at the fortress. Allwyn called for Gavin to ready his horse and then summoned thirty of the fittest men to ride with him. When the horses were liveried and the provision wagons packed, he turned to hold Corinna in farewell. She said stubbornly, "Get me a horse, too. I'm going with you!"

Allwyn's dark gaze was just as stubborn. "No. My dearest, you will not. This will at best be a perilous undertaking. I need to know you are here, safe."

She said determinedly, "Rhian and Telyn were kind to me. I want to help them out of that mess! Look, I promise I will be careful, and I can ride quite well by now." She took him aside and placed her hands on his shoulders, "You see, I fear we will be parted soon enough and I want to be wherever you are, while I can."

He assured her they would never be parted, and finally gave in to her insistence to go along. They rode from the fort at the head of a double line of calvary, into the forest where the deep green shadows closed off the sun.

Late afternoon, Allwyn saw that he could take his small band of men no further without rest and refreshment. He called back to them that they would stop again at the home of the Wise Woman. He asked Corinna, "You have met Sylva, have you not?"

Corinna nodded. Oh yes, she had, and someday she would tell him about the miraculous healing of the Golden Stag.

He said, "My foster mother always claimed Sylva had strange powers and could heal the sick, and that she could see things happening in the future or at a far distance."

"Do you believe that?"

"I am not discounting it, for I remember some unexplained miracles in that forest when I was a child. I hope my grandmother indeed has the sight, so I can learn how we may save Rhian and Telyn."

They entered a glade surrounded by the largest spreading oaks Corinna had even seen. In a ring of willows at the center sat a quaint little log and wattle house with a thatch roof. As they passed under the low hanging branches, their shoulders and heads brushed a dozen sets of hanging tubular chimes and their music rang out. "Those are a warning to Sylva and her husband if a stranger should enter this place," Allwyn said.

Sylva greeted them warmly, and showed the men a stream to water their horses and fill their canteens. She brought out cold mutton and bread to feed the hungriest, and bustled about her cooking fire to prepare more sustenance. While a pungent smelling stew simmered, she took Allwyn and Corinna to the house.

"The Black Marauder is dead?" She asked it placidly, as if she already knew.

"Aye. And many of his murderous plunderers with him." Allwyn said.

Corinna looked around the dwelling. Beside the door was a clay oven with golden loaves of baking bread over the embers. The wall area around the fireplace was hung with dried apples, roots and herbs. There was a basket of fruit and bowls of onions and cloves of garlic on a rough hewn sideboard. The walls of the other room were sandwashed and decorated with colorful religious hangings of Mary, the Christ child and the prophets. At one end Corinna saw two wooden post beds through an opening in the heavy curtains that separated the sleeping area from the kitchen. Her gaze wondered to the other end of the room and froze there. The only window was set in the center of a round tapestry, painted in a fan shape like the colors of the rainbow, with wooden bands of carved ancient figures. Except for being woven and painted instead of glass, it was designed like the wheel in her uncle Emery's study back home!

"What is this?" she inquired, pointing.

"It is a seer's wheel, once used by the Old Ones," Sylva said proudly, "My husband came to have it from his father, who was a direct descendant of a Druid priest. Only they know how to use this tool of magic that had origins in Atlantis. It can be used only for good. My husband says it will strike down any who try to use it for evil purposes."

Corinna was confused yet excited, "My step-uncle has one quite similar in the wall of his home. How could he have created such an ancient design?"

"Then your uncle is of the Druid," the Wise Woman declared, "Only they knew how to create this. The secret died with them when the Romans slew the last of the line. But the legend says that some of them were shapeshifters, who in disguise survived and are immortal."

Corinna pondered the dubious but intriguing notion, and asked, "You, also?"

"Yes. I am descended of a high priestess. I entrust you with our secret. You will keep it?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Both my husband and I have been converted to Christianity and worship the Christ. We are not so different from you."

Looking back at the woman's steady gaze, Corinna suddenly understood. A shiver of

excitement and wonder touched her, but she kept silent. Could it be? Emery and Adele’s love endured whatever befell them and transcended the ages, so that even in different identities they might part but always find each other again?

Her deep thoughts were interrupted when Allwyn joined them, asking. "Grandmere, is there a priest close by? I wish to wed my lady."

Sylva's smile beamed. "My blessing to you both! May you find the happiness you deserve, my grandson and your dear betrothed." She looked at Corinna with inquisitive golden eyes that narrowed slightly.

She knows—Corinna thought—she knows I am not of this time and will have to leave it.

Then Sylva sighed, "Alas, the marauders robbed everyone, even a holy man who passed by. Thus, they now avoid the road past here. I do not know of one, unless he be visiting from the citadel. Perhaps when you near Falconaire..."

"Ah, I wanted to tell you, Grandmere, Falconaire has been claimed by an ambitious overlord."

"I know," she said, "Corman of Eire. With his brother’s aid, he killed your foster father."

Allwyn nodded. "I shall see him pay for that!"

A commotion in the yard drew Sylva's attention. She went out, they heard voices and she returned, followed by an anxious woman in peasant garb and a big man carrying a toddler. "The poor little girl has eaten some poisonous berries," Sylva explained. "I believe my tinsures can save her, if it has not been too long."

"Tell me if I can help," Corinna volunteered, touched by the child's cherubic face framed in golden ringlets, now flushed and moist with the deadly poison. The man lay his small daughter on Sylva's bed, and he and the mother stood against the wall, watching anxiously.

Sylva instructed Corinna how to mix a drink from the corked jars of strong smelling, dark liquids, while she concocted another, light and frothy. The healer forced the cups of medicine down the child, who had awakened screaming. Having her drink enough was no easy task, but at last it was done and with her mother’s reassurance the girl quieted, then fell asleep. "Wet the cloth there in the bowl and cool her," the healer ordered the child's mother, who did so, while the father paced around the room, occasionally glancing warily at the warriors outside. Corinna relieved the mother’s bedside watch and bathed the child with cool water Sylva brought from the well.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but it seemed hours as the hazy day drifted idly by. Allwyn and his men rested beneath the shade of the great trees. She realized she too was tired from the ride, and leaned against a sack of grain beside the bench. When she was awakened by the hum of voices, she saw the child was sitting up and her coloring was normal. The winsome little girl rubbed her tummy and said, "Eat?" Her parent's faces beamed with joy and relief as they gathered her in their arms. Sylva served the child a golden broth and a piece of barley bread. Corinna smiled at seeing that she devoured the meal with hearty enthusiasm, and went out to tell Allwyn the good news.

After the grateful peasant family left for the village, Allwyn took Corinna inside. He spoke to Sylva, "Grandmere, not only are you a gifted healer, it is said you have the sight. Can you tell me how Rhian and Telyn fare?"

Sylva smiled and her face was almost beautiful. "Ah, perhaps I will be granted two miracles in one day. I shall try." She walked slowly to the window and stood with her body bathed in the shaft of light. She spread her arms out to match the wooden bands and intoned a muttering chant that went on and on. Allwyn whispered that in all his travels he had never heard this strange tongue. The Wise Woman did not move even an eyelash as she raised her voice to a sing-song, and suddenly the candle beside her guttered and went out as if from a sharp breeze.

"The young king-apparent is locked in a small dark cell," her voice echoed, "and the Lady Rhian is in a bedchamber with guards at the door. She is accompanied by a slender, fair-haired lass..."

"Kieva, Telyn's intended." Allwyn nodded.

Sylva went on, "there is a white gown and a veil hanging on the wall, and much sadness and fear on their faces..."

"Yes!" Corinna exclaimed. How could Sylva have known about the forced wedding, unless her powers were real?

Allwyn leaned forward, his face intent, "How may we get them away from Corman?"

The Wise Woman's voice faltered, "Yes, Corman...the evil lord. I see...I see... Oh, I see my husband who returns from healing the sick in the village. He is here." She stepped away from the wheel and went to open the door, then turned to the disappointed pair, "I am sorry. The power comes and goes with me lately, perhaps because I am so troubled by what I have seen will befall this country."

Allwyn asked with a touch of dread, "And what have you seen?"

"The fall of our benevolent protectors, and the end of the greatest king Briton will ever know. I worry not for ourselves, we shall take refuge. It will come. Warring between themselves will make the landholding lords weak, then, invaders will sweep in... Go and speak with my husband," Sylva bade her grandson, "He will tell you what must be done."

Allwyn had a skeptical look, but he left them without another word.

"Can Rhian and Telyn be saved?" Corinna asked the Wise Woman when they were alone.

Slyva seemed to be rambling, her voice had gone very soft. "How I have longed to return to my beautiful land, and soon I shall. In the quiet, remote Welsh mountains we can all be content and safe. The kingdom will live on, in a new place under a new king."

Corinna said with impatience creeping into her voice, "Yes, but as for right now, how can we rescue Rhian and Telyn?"

The Wise Woman looked at her a moment, and said softly as she left the room, "By the passage he found as a boy." Then as if drained, the woman sank upon a bench and closed her eyes.

"What is she talking about?" Bewildered, Corinna followed Allwyn outside, and saw a rider coming through the willows. She stared. The man on the horse passed through the branches just as they had when arriving, but there was no movement or sound from the chimes.

As she walked closer, recognition swept over her. The man in the gray cloak was her protector, she thought, the guardian who saved her twice when she was in dire need of saving. Allwyn spoke to him with a familiarity that said he knew him, and explained that his men were resting here for a long journey. Then the man was introduced to Corinna as Sylva's husband, Emrys. "Not my blood grandfather, but my Grandmere's second husband," Allwyn explained.

"Nooo," Emrys said in the same quiet, deep voice she remembered. "Hardly would I be your mother’s sire, the brave Alar. He was a bold warrior chieftain who died fighting the Saxons at Arthur's battle for Mount Badon."

Corinna drew in her breath and said, "We have met. On two occasions this man saved my life. This is the mysterious man I told you about."

"So it was you!" Allwyn exclaimed. " I had almost guessed as much. Thank you, Emrys my friend, for rescuing my beloved lady. I intend to make her my wife."

"Eh? Your wife? Well, I must say ye have chosen a lovely lass. Mayhap the wedding be soon?"

Corinna thought she caught something in his expression as he bowed to her. Allwyn replied, "Soon, if I have my way. But for you, I would not have her beside me. Name your reward, sir, and you shall have it."

Corinna tensed and turned away. Somehow this man Emrys—and she wondered at the name, no doubt one passed down for centuries—represented an end to her time here with Allwyn. She would look over her shoulder until they left here, fearing he would approach and tell her she must return to her world now. But Emrys busied himself helping Sylva feed the men, and later he helped with the horses. Allwyn insisted the couple take a small pouch of silver for their trouble, although they refused it. He slipped inside later and left it on the table.

As they prepared to ride out, Sylva brought her grandson some bread and cheese tied in a cloth, and a flacon of her wildberry wine. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and put her hands on his broad shoulders. "My grandson, you are indeed a warrior prince, descended of a great Celtic chieftain of our line, and the Lady of the Lake. Such an ancestry you should carry with pride."

"I do, Grandmere. God go with you," Allwyn said.

Then Emrys came to Corinna and held out a soft gray packet that seemed familiar. "For you, child. Until we next meet, have a safe journey."

She noticed many eyes on her and him. He left her as quickly as he had come, and when the others began to ride forward she undid the strings around the doeskin, and unrolled it to find the white dress. She had thought the soiled garment had been thrown out by the servants at Falconaire, but here it was in her hands, and not much the worse for wear. Someone had carefully cleaned it and sewn the tears with fine stitches. The words on Emery's note at the chalet danced before her eyes. You must wear the white dress and watch for the light...None other can go back with you, you must go alone...

Corinna stuffed the packet carelessly in her saddlebag, and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. She would not think about the journey back, not yet. While it was true she missed many of the conveniences and the freedom a woman knew in her time, she knew she would miss Allwyn much more. Sometime soon, somehow, she must confront Emrys alone. Now that she found Allwyn's feelings to be the same as hers, she wanted more time here. More time? You want forever, she chided herself, and it may not be in Emrys' power to control such a thing.

She swung astride her horse and heard Allwyn calling to her, "Come my Raven, we must be on our way, if we are to reach Falconaire in time."

She waved good-bye to Sylva and Emrys as the band left the house in the glade behind. Further into the trees she glanced around one more time and caught in her breath. She blinked to be sure, but her vision did not lie. There was only a shimmering patch of wildgrass within the circle of the clearing. There was no house at all beneath the great oaks! She urged her mount on to catch the others, glad in a way to be out of there. This was the Forest of the Charmed, after all.

The following evening the band sheltered from the cold, drizzling rain in an abandoned granary. The roof on the structure was falling in, but Allwyn's men rigged a large hide tent across some poles and they made the most of the time resting, lying on furs from the wagon. In one corner, Allwyn and Corinna slept, wrapped together in his heavy cloak and too exhausted to care that the stone floor was hard and cold. The next morning the sun came out and they pushed on toward the coast, along the old Roman military road. When they had crossed the river, Corinna asked Allwyn, "Will you personally escort Rhian, Telyn and Kieva to Wales?"

"Corman will have his men watching the shipyard once we escape. For now, I shall take them to Caerleon."

"Camelot?"

"Some call it that, yes. Beldaran told me the story when I was a young boy. Camelot began as a large and prosperous village in the river valley. When Arthur held only an old Roman hill fort, Caer Leon, with a band of brave, homeless warriors who believed in his dream."

She said, "I want to go with you when you take them to Camelot." Even if he said no and tried to leave her stashed somewhere safe, she would find some way to go with him.

Allwyn reached out to touch her hand on the reins and Corinna thought she read deep love in his eyes. He said, "Let us not worry about what may or may not come, my dearest. Look, did you ever see sunshine so bright, or a sky so blue? We shall succeed in our good endeavor to rescue my people, I know it."

The Maying celebrations were already beginning, Corinna noticed as they passed by some small villages. In the bright morning sunshine, gaily dressed children and adults were gathering around the green poles. In front of an ale house, a couple of vividly dressed bards strummed a harp and a dulcimer, singing in harmony,

Come dance around the May pole, a-Maying we will go,

Come bring your sweetheart and be wed, upon this joyous day-o"

A couple in fur capes and rings of woven greenery came by. The man called out to them,

" Come, fair lady, and bring your lord! Perhaps ye will be chosen King and Queen of the May!"

Corinna felt her feet itching to join the whirling dancers but she knew the joyous spirit of the occasion was lost to Allwyn. He turned away from the celebration, his attention distracted by the knowledge that today Corman would make Lady Rhian his wife, very much against her will. Allwyn frowned, a formidable look Corinna thought, and he said, "That slime of the earth will never make her his bride, as long as there is breath in my body."

"What did Sylva mean, you will rescue them by the "secret passage you found as a boy?"

He looked up. "I have finally remembered. I dare to hope that old cavern is still open. It lies under the sea cliffs and extends deep beneath the outer wall of Falconaire, up to the cellar of the seneschal's storehouse. When we were small boys, Telyn and I used to make up stories and imagine how a warrior king in hiding, or maybe a hermit wizard, had hollowed out the tunnel under the hill. We thought we were the only ones to discover the passage. Later, Beldaran ordered the opening walled up, after a runaway child was killed."

"Killed?!"

"Yes. There are only a few hours day or night that one can venture into the cliff opening without getting trapped by the incoming tide. The sea rises to fill the cavern completely. Telyn and I were lucky, although we didn't even know it at the time, having scurried out before the sea rolled in. That is what happened to the runaway child. Only a few of us knew about that tunnel and it has probably been forgotten or sealed by shifting rocks. I am wagering Corman doesn't know, and that is my way in." He spurred his black stallion onward.

"But, how can you know it is a safe time, especially in the dark?" Corinna inquired with apprehension.

"We shall watch the tides carefully, and pray that nothing goes wrong," Allwyn said.

Chapter 18

The Abbey at Dunleah was completely deserted. Their boots rang on the cold floors of the little stone houses where the sparse furnishing were left bare. The shady courtyard and the chapel where two dozen monks had knelt in prayer was silent. Allwyn told his men, "This will be our camp for now, and a sanctuary when I return with my foster family. Be ready to ride at a moments notice."

He called Marlon aside and said in a serious tone, "If something happens to me, take my lady to Caerleon. Ask for Lancelot or Galeron." His captain nodded.

"Wait! I'm going into Falconaire with you," Corinna objected.

Allwyn led her away to the orchard for some privacy. He pulled her close and touched her face tenderly with an ungloved hand. "It is too risky, my love. No. You must stay here."

"Listen, Wyn..." she objected and stepped back, hands on her hips, "If you can make it, so can I! Besides, think about it, I can wear a disguise and get into Rhian's chamber as a woman, easier than you can fight your way in."

"I love the way those emerald eyes flash," he chuckled and threw up his hands. "With weapons as powerful as your feminine wiles used against me, I can do naught but surrender."

Allwyn left his armor behind, belting only a dagger inside his black tunic. Corinna borrowed a dun colored cloak found in the monk's quarters to cover her gown. They could pass as peasants taking horses to sell in the village. They rode toward the shoreline, each of them leading another horse by tether. Allwyn admitted, "I have been mulling over your idea, and I think it a good one. I believe if we switch clothing with servants, we can find Rhian and Telyn, and spring his trap."

No sooner had they reached the edge of the woods that separated Falconaire from the abbey, than they heard hoofbeats coming behind them. Allwyn's hand found the pommel of his dagger inside his cloak, but to their relief it proved to be only the abbot Tullias riding on a ploughmare.

"Allwyn! Welcome back!" the abbot cried, a big grin creasing his round face, "it is good to see a friend for a change." Then he said solemnly, "The brothers have all gone. That man who dares proclaim himself king robbed our money chest and took our crops. We faced starvation."

Allwyn reached deep in his saddlebag and took out a small pouch of coins. "Here, take this as a token of your years of service and friendship to us. Find a home elsewhere and supply your larder."

"God bless you, my true friend and brother," Tullias exclaimed, then he smiled sagely, "I believe I know what you are about, Defender, coming back here at such a risk. You wish to aid Lady Rhian and Telyn. Why, did you know? That usurper Corman has put a price on your head! Keep well hidden, you and the lady."

"I am going to get my family out of there," Allwyn said grimly. Then he smiled ironically. "How much does that bastard figure I am worth?"

"I heard two large pouches of silver are offered," the abbot replied.

Allwyn laughed bitterly, "He thinks the bounty be on the head of a prince! If he only knew...I am prince of nothing. A prince of the wildwood mist."

The abbot said soberly, "But do be careful, my brother. Do not let them see you, although you may get close, for yesterday Duke Rhys led his men against Corman. They have Falconaire under siege. Rhys received your message, and, remaining loyal to Beldaran's kin, he will help you get Telyn on the throne."

"That is good news," Allwyn nodded, "Then, perhaps the Duke can aid us now."

"Bless you in your endeavors," Tullias said as he crossed himself, "But, alas, I fear when all the fighting near and far is done, there will be little left to claim."

Allwyn nodded and said somberly, "Yes. We may all have to flee this land."

Tullias agreed to wait with Allwyn's men until he and Corinna returned from their mission.

"I know the Lady Rhian would like you to ride to Caerleon with us," Allwyn told him, "She was ever fond of you."

The abbot nodded and beamed, "She is in my prayers, and may I look upon her dear face soon." He turned his horse toward the monastery and trotted away.

At the edge of the trees they paused and surveyed the high walls of the fortress. In the meadows below Falconaire, a hundred tents and several battle wains formed a half circle, and smoke from the encampment fires of Rhys' army rose lazily in the evening air.

"If I can get to the Duke before his guards set upon me, I am certain he will go along with my plan," Allwyn said.

"It will soon be dark, and look, the fog is settling in. Corman's watchmen won't see us," Corinna interjected optimistically.

They had to announce to the spear toting guards whom they were, and later were taken into the tent area. Duke Rhys wore full battle armor on his sturdy round form, and a red wool mantle against the chilling mist. A crackling log fire blazed in the pit dug at the camp's center. He greeted them with an uplifted palm, and stated drolly, "My old friend Beldaran built his stronghold to withstand the best forces of man or nature. Our battering ram has not moved so much as one timber of the gate."

Allwyn explained to Corinna that Rhys, though a staunch ally of the late king, no longer aspired to any sort of power for himself. He wished only to live his remaining years in peace among his farmlands and visit his tin mines from here to Cornwall occasionally. But, not under a tyrant like Corman who would tax every man to death while building a powerful warhost to enforce his will upon the people.

The Duke took them inside his tent and heard Allwyn's plan. He said, "Ye have a perilous task going in there, Defender, but if there's a man alive that can pull it off, 'tis you. I shall send an escort of six armored men to see you to the cliff paths. God bless you and keep you safe."

Corinna thought the Duke looked rather skeptical as to their chance of survival.

They accepted the trencher of hot porridge he brought them from the cook's fire, and when they had finished, he gave Allwyn a leather canteen of water. "Godspeed, M' lady, take care of this foolhardy lad," the Duke said and bowed to Corinna as they exited the tent. The escort came for them and they rode to the mist covered shoreline below Falconaire.

The fog had become a heavy shroud that left their faces beaded with moisture and made their footing on the rock path slippery. Fortunately, when the armed men took their leave, there had been no rousing shouts or fire arrows from the wall of the stronghold. Apparently the watchmen could not see two figures scrambling up the side of the cliff below. Allwyn caught Corinna's hand to help her scale the jagged black stones and then they reached a natural walkway carved by the ocean and the wind. Not thirty feet below the tide thundered against the cliff face with such force it shuddered. "We have a little time, but not much," he said grimly and moved faster.

Corinna lost sight of Allwyn in the gray mist ahead, and called his name as loudly as she dared, fearing he had lost his footing and fallen. "I am here," he replied from a sudden drop to her right, "Be careful where you step," he added, dusting himself off. He reached up and with hands on her waist he lifted her down to him. "Keep your voice low," he cautioned, "If they catch on that someone is down here, we will have no chance."

Shivering, scared, she nestled against the warmth of his chest for a moment and felt his heart beating through the leather tunic.

"Are you all right, my love?" He asked her.

She raised her head, reading hope and determination in his eyes. "Yes. Let's go for it."

Allwyn helped her into a dark hole in the cliff wall that was completely obscured by vines. A tern, startled from its nesting place flew past them. The cavern was musty and dark. He took flint and tinder from his pouch and lit the torch he carried.

When they had followed the twisting, narrow walls for what seemed several hundred feet, Corinna could hear the waves thundering dully above, and exclaimed, "Are we below sea level?"

"Yes, and the tide is rising. There is the danger, if it reaches up to the opening. We must be quick and wary." He took her hand to lead her safely around some sharp rock formations, and they continued on. "It is as I remember when Telyn and I sneaked in as boys. We are probably under the outer wall by now," he said, peering at the wall to his right, "Beldarn's treasure cache is along here somewhere."

The cavern floor slanted upward beneath their feet. In a shadowed corner Allwyn ran his hand along the rough wall and muttered, "Here it is." He moved a waist high slab of rock that brought musty dirt tumbling, and then another that looked to be merely part of the cavern wall. There was a deep alcove behind it, and she could barely make out a small rounded door.

Corinna inquired, "This wouldn't be the secret treasure store?"

Allwyn took a bronze key on a chain from around his neck. "Yes," he smiled ironically, "here is something Corman desires very much, but cannot find. And he shall never have it."

He opened the rusty lock, reached in and lifted out two large bags that clinked heavily when he deposited them behind the rocks. He replaced the stone over the cache and patted the dirt back into place until the cracks vanished. "Someday, we shall come for the rest of it," he said, "but what we can carry now will sustain my family a long while."

It helped Allwyn that the planks over the cellar opening were rotten with age, and with his dagger and then his bare hands, he ripped a hole in the wall. They slipped up the cellar steps into the kitchen and then to another room where straw beds lined the walls. They found some servant's clothing in a chest, and worked feverishly to exchange them with their own. Corinna's hands were shaking with the awareness they must hurry, that the tide would soon swell over the cliff paths and fill the cavern.

Allwyn donned an old black hat, and she tucked his locks up tightly inside it. She tied her own hair back severely, just like she used to at work, and knotted on a peasant woman's scarf that shadowed her face. They snatched cold cinders from the fireplace and smudged each other's faces and hands for a work-grimed look, and nodded smiling approval at one another. "You make quite a winsome peasant wench," he told her with a final dab of charcoal on her nose. Corinna smiled, "Come, my handsome herdsman, we have to get on with this little escapade."

Wooden buckets in hand, they stepped from the stone house, went along the inner wall and walked calmly into the courtyard. Guards in dark armor and pointed helms lined the battlements all around. Despite impending trouble from being under siege, the Maying celebrations were in full swing at the castle. Wide green, pink and yellow banners fluttered where they draped off the trees and crosstimbers. Girls in ruffled frocks and ribbons carrying baskets skipped by, and in the garden a sister in white led the children as they sang merrily.

Corinna said, "I don't see any familiar faces. What happened to all your people?"

Allwyn replied, "I have word from Rhys that several of Beldaran's men and their families fled into the hills. Dissenters who won't obey Corman are no doubt imprisoned, and that includes many noblemen. He is said to have raised a new army from his homeland, and anywhere he may lure fighting men with the promise of wealth."

"Look over there!" Corinna exclaimed, pointing to an arched doorway beyond the fountain. A group of women wearing lace covered ivory gowns, their hair bedecked in satin ribbons were giggling and fussing over their apparel and the sprays of pink flowers they carried. "The bridesmaids," she said. They saw three carriages drawn by white horses at the gate.

Allwyn grated, "Under siege or no, Corman would make her his bride, and intends to do so in a manner he can boast of later."

He and Corinna exchanged a look of urgency, and ducked into the hall where at one end the steps led up to Rhian's chamber.

Three armed guards were planted stoically about the door.

"Please let us in, kind sirs," Corinna simpered, "We bring the water for the Lady's bath."

The guards looked bored, and she suspected they had let in servant after servant as the wedding preparations progressed. They unbolted the door, stood aside, and closed it behind them. Kieva stood with Rhian near the window, arranging her hair up in spangled ribbons. A long beaded veil and an elaborate, lacy white gown lay on the bed. Allwyn swept off the funny hat as they turned to see who had entered. He said in a hushed tone, "Hello, fair ladies, it is we, Allwyn and Corinna!"

Terra's round mouth fell open and she gave a squeal of happiness after which Allwyn, finger to his lips, warned her to silence. Rhian hugged both of them and frowned in worry. "Why did you risk coming here like this. You know he will kill you if..."

"There is a secret way out," Allwyn spoke rapidly in a low tone, "Listen to our plan and then pray, and follow us."

Terra crossed herself after he told them about the cavern and how they would reach it. She implored, "My father has fled for his life with a band of rebels, and I don't want to stay here with that awful warlord watching my every move. Please let me come with you! The ladies will need me as a handmaiden, please..."

Allwyn nodded. "Yes. But you must keep up and keep silent." He turned to Rhian, "Do you know where Telyn is being held?"

"In the same cell where was Lancelot, I am told."

Allwyn said, "Then the wedding carriage shall make an unplanned stop."

Terra wrapped three dresses and two cloaks with some other essentials in a blanket and tied the bundle on her back. When they emerged from the room it appeared the lady of the castle was going to be wed, with her servants in tow carrying her things and the veil. The carriage waited at the gate to the village. Corinna, Kieva and Rhain climbed inside, and then Terra, who was holding up the train of the Lady's gown.

Allwyn spoke with the driver, fortunately one of Corman's new men from Eire, and the man replied, "the King asks to see me, now? Are you certain?" He decided he had better go to his lord, and handed Allwyn the reins to hold the team for him.

Allwyn drove the carriage to the village smithy. After a few protests, Allwyn got him to come, supposedly on the King's orders, to the cells in the wall. There, he held him at dagger point while the frightened man sawed through the lock with his file. Telyn was overjoyed to see his rescuer, and he exclaimed, "Ho, Defender! I knew I could count on you to come!"

They gagged and tied the agitated smithy to the cell bars with an oxen tether, and while they were driving away, Allwyn filled Telyn in on the plan.

"What in the glory world is that carriage driver doing?" The captain of the guard muttered, peering over the high outer wall. The guards expected the specially prepared carriage to go as part of a procession to the chapel, as ordered by the king. They watched it roll to the village and return along the outer wall, and were beginning to wonder why it had turned toward the servant quarters. When the carriage halted in front of the cook's house, the captain said to his men, "The king gave orders to guard his bride well. Something is amiss down there! Follow me..." The men scurried down the steps, their weapons drawn.

Allwyn wasted no time hurrying the women through the house and into the cellar. Once everyone had scrambled through the opening, he and Telyn quickly replaced the boards so that it would be hard to notice. By the light of a candle taken from the cook's table, they made their way along the larger part of the cavern at a good pace, but in the twisting, narrow portion, Rhian's long gown continuously got caught on protruding rocks. In desperation she had Allwyn rip away the frilly overskirt to leave a knee length satin shift, and then her feet flew over the tunnel floor, Corinna close behind her.

Allwyn paused only at the cache to scoop up the bags of silver. "Your life fortunes, my friends," he said as he handed one to Rhian and one to Telyn, "Should we never be able to return, you are set for living elsewhere. Perhaps we will return for the rest of it, if they do not find it."

They thanked him with tears in their eyes, and Rhian stated, "We shall share it with you, brave Allwyn. I know Beldaran would want such."

As they scrambled onward, with Allwyn toting the heavy sack for Rhian, Telyn vowed, "If ever I am king, Sir Allwyn, you shall be my First Champion."

Allwyn slowed to listen for sounds of the surf. "We must hurry. Under water, the cliff path will be even more treacherous. He did not add that they could be trapped when the tide covered the mouth of the cavern, but Corinna saw the worry lines on his shadowed face. The chilling water was suddenly at their feet, and then ankle deep, and there was still no sign of the opening.

Telyn pushed Kieva and Terra on before him, and Corinna saw that they were pale and trembling with the cold in the now knee deep water.

Rhian cried as Terra started to turn back in fear, "NO! Keep on! We shall make it!"

"It can't be far!" Allwyn's voice boomed within the narrowing walls, and then the sound of the pounding ocean reached their ears.

They plunged onward in the icy swirl of seawater that soon reached waist high, and breathed a silent prayer. Terra chanted hers aloud. Then, Corinna spotted a glimmer of pale light ahead, and pointed, "The mouth of the cave!"

Allwyn and Telyn pulled the women up onto the higher path, cautioning, "Watch your steps, there are loosened rocks all about."

Corinna thought the misty moon above swirling wraiths of fog had never looked so beautiful, and she gave up a silent prayer of thanks.

The path was hard to see and the going difficult, but at last they made it to the Duke's men who waited at the side of the cliff. Soon, the exhausted, shivering escapees were drying out by the fire in front of Rhys’ tent.

The Duke came striding past and turned about in astonishment. "Well, by the Great Protector! I was saddened all the while, thinking I should never see your faces again, and yet here you are, and Sir Allwyn! This calls for a celebration!"

He bellowed for an ale jug of his own private stock, and he saw they were served warm meat and bread from the cooking fire. When the Duke learned they were bound for Caerleon to petition the case of Telyn's kingship, he took a roll of parchment and a quill pen from his camp chest. "I send this message to the High King Arthur," he said when he finished writing. "It states that the majority of our people want Telyn for king, and we would oust the tyrant, Corman."

He handed the paper to Telyn, who thanked him and tucked it inside his coat.

Allwyn purchased two more horses, a wagon and some provisions from the Duke, then they rode to the abbey. The Abbot Tullias was so overjoyed at seeing them back safely that he forgot protocol and hugged Lady Rhian with a kiss on the cheek. "God bless you all!" he cried, then added, "I believe he has."

They slept awhile and rode out at dawn, followed by Allwyn's men. Since there was a shortage of horses, Corinna clung to Allwyn aboard his great black stallion. The first day of the journey went quickly. They covered a lot of ground, then camped at the narrow part of the channel they must cross in the morning. The following day, the terrain became rocky and the trails harder to track, but they reached the River Usk which could be followed straight to Caerleon. After twice stopping briefly to rest the horses and eat, they pushed onward into the night, guided by the light of the Great North Star.

It was late when they made camp. Corinna exclaimed at how bright all the constellations appeared tonight and pointed them out to Allwyn, who listened with interest and awe of her knowledge. She was touched by the way he appreciated her intelligence and at the same time made her feel such a beautiful, complete woman. She could hardly wait until they were alone, to show him. She left the fire where the other women slept and slipped into the trees, her heart pounding. She was glad that his tent was a little away from the rest, because she anticipated that tonight they would experience some of the most beautiful moments either had ever known. He was waiting for her, sitting on a pile of fur covers, naked.

She lay outstretched atop his smooth body, her silken sighs whispering within the tent walls as he caressed her bare skin in the flickering candlelight. "Oh, yes...thrill me, my Prince," she murmured and pressed against him, longing to have him inside her.

"I love you, my Raven," he whispered, as he hungrily claimed her mouth with his own. They began to move like the waves gently lapping the shore, undulating, heaving, slow and easy. When she began to whimper with the mounting ecstasy of their joining, he rolled her beneath him and drew back a little, his eyes burning into hers. He teased her, circling her with the tip of himself and entering only a little way inside her demanding body. "Give me more...I want all of you!" she pleaded, arching desperately up to him. He gave her one deep thrust, then he held back and teased again. He chuckled throatily, "Nay, not until you say it..."

"Wyn! Oh please, please..." she gasped, "Say what?"

"You know of what I speak. What I long to hear..." He drew back and flicked his tongue around her taut nipple, evoking a moan of crazed longing.

It hit her with sudden clarity, and she was afraid to say it. In doing so she would give up everything to him, could never bear to part from him. She must try to keep her heart and soul aloof and immune to his sweet entrapment. How could she, when every nerve ending in her vibrant flesh cried out for him? When, like now, she so desperately craved him?

"There is no need for words, my darling. We are alone, let's make the most of it. Take me now, or I shall leave this tent and never come back to you," she swore, and closed her eyes.

"You shall say it, before I am through with you," he whispered with hot intensity, and, seizing her ankles in his powerful hands, he knelt and placed her legs around his shoulders. His fingers skillfully sought out the peaks and the depths of her yearning flesh. Corinna writhed and arched and begged him, and just when she thought she could no longer bear the sweet agony, he settled back on his heels and gazed at her lying there in the dancing shadow of his own body.

Surely, she thought desperately, he can't keep up this teasing denial, he will have to be satisfied himself. She beckoned to him saucily with her forefinger, breathed his name through seductive lips, and watched him come to her. His eyes locked with hers as he rose dominantly between her knees, placed her ankles on his shoulders and lifted her slightly. She gasped when he entered her and slowly filled her to completion, at last. He pinned her beneath him then and took her with all the strength of his powerful body. Her joy burst out in whimpering moans and her head rolled from side to side with the all consuming pleasure he gave with each deep surge inside her. She muffled her cries of joy against his moist shoulder, and heard him say fiercely in time with his quickening movements, "I love you, Corinna...I love you..."

She had never dreamed such pleasure could exist, the kind she felt now as she soared and exploded and tightened around him in wave after wave of searing ecstasy. The words tore from her lips in a breathless cry, "Oh, I love you, Wyn!"

The sensation gradually subsided into soft throbs, she clung to him and realized tears had spilled onto her cheeks. He noticed too, and kissed them gently away. They lay side by side with their heart rhythms slowing to normal, and he looked into her eyes again. "What we have together moves me as much as it has you, Corinna. You are mine, forever and always," he murmured.

Tomorrow she would be strong. Tomorrow she could find a way to coolly ignore the fiery emotions of tonight. As for now, Corinna was too happy and too warmly satisfied to speak.

Allwyn watched the soft light of the candle play about her face. She has made me live again, only with her will I truly be a whole man, he thought with a newfound certainty. I could never bear to lose her. I must bind us together in a way so strong that nothing can tear us apart.

They fell asleep among the soft furs, wrapped in each other's arms.

The scent of fresh, early morning awakened her senses slowly. Corinna untangled herself gently from Allwyn's arms and left him sleeping. She pulled her chemise and a shawl over her body, and taking a honeysuckle soap square, she walked to a brush covered spot at the brook. She returned feeling refreshed and exuberant from her bath in the natural spring.

Terra had dressed Rhian's hair in her tent, and came over insisting that she brush the tangles from Corinna's. She said to the girl, "I am not royalty, Terra. I am just a woman scribe, I guess that's what you folks would say I am. You don't have to be fussing over me."

"Then I will do it as a friend," Terra smiled. "My life has been about helping others, and I would not feel needed anymore if it were otherwise."

She bade Corinna lean against a flat topped rock, and combed out her hair and spread the long waves to dry in the sun. Allwyn soon came by and saw that Terra was winding his lover's hair up in a satin ribbon.

"'Tis a shame to capture such wild beauty as this," he smiled admiringly and ruffled through it with his fingers until it came down. Ignoring Terra's gasp and giggles as she turned away, he lifted Corinna's shining waves and held them against his face, then he kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Thank you, darling, but I would rather not have my hair flying and caught in the branches of a tree. It could happen, on these adventurous treks through the wild with you," she bantered.

"Abide me but a little longer, my lady, and we shall reside in a fine castle," he promised. After he finished washing in the stream, he took his leave with the bowmen to hunt for game.

Terra had almost finished dressing Corinna's hair when she giggled shyly and said, "I wonder if it was just gossip... Some of the farm girls, and noble's daughters, too, have said that..." The girl was blushing red, but she continued, "...said that Sir Allwyn..."

Corinna had a feeling she knew what Terra was so curious about. "Just say it, girl," she exclaimed with an amused smile, "What about Sir Allwyn?"

Terra blushed even deeper and said, "They claim he is quite skillful and unsurpassed as a lover. Forgive me, but, I was wondering if it were true?"

Corinna had to laugh at the innocent girl's curiosity. She nodded, "Yes, Terra. it is true. At least, he certainly surpasses all my expectations."

"Ah, m'lady, how I envy you...loved by such a man..." Terra sighed dreamily as she wove the ribbon in a final braid.

Corinna assured her, "You are a pretty girl, Terra, with much kindness and caring to offer someone. You will find a young man to fall in love with. I think it will be before long."

"Oh, I hope so," m'lady," Terra replied.

Chapter 19

The woods sparkled with morning dew and smelled of wet fern and musty logs. Riding at the head of the group, Corinna delighted in watching two small fawns cavorting in a sunlit glade while their mothers grazed. Farther along the trail, she saw rock walled farm houses and cattle byres dotting the expanse of meadows. "It lies just over yon hill," Rhian said from behind her, a touch of excitement in her voice. Corinna's heart began to beat faster. The sun had reached higher by the time they crested the long hill, and she saw Camelot. The whitewashed villages circling about the next hill were ten times larger than those she had seen so far. They seemed to sprawl into the fields in all directions, and all were surrounded by high walls. The tiny black and white clustered dots on the meadows were herds of sheep and cattle, she realized. The river, which Allwyn had told her was the Usk, wound like a silver ribbon from the misty blue forest and through the lush green valley. At the center rose a long hill, and the water formed a giant ring as it flowed around a fortress so massive it made Falconaire seem small. The castle’s walls shimmered in the sunlight like diamond dust on granite. Its many towers rose majestically above thick Roman battlement walls where it perched on a high earthen plateau above the moat.

Corinna gazed in awe at the shining fortress city. But then she thought; all of this would hardly equal the size of a large twentieth century shopping mall. As they came closer, she heard Terra exclaim in awe, "Look! The castle has windows of glass, see how they reflect the sky!"

And Kieva mused, "I wonder how many rooms the palace has in all? It seems one could get themselves lost..."

"How does it shimmer so, as if sprinkled with diamonds?"

Rhian answered Terra's question. "An old friend of mine was there when the craftsmen of several countries came to build it. He said the Franc artisans glazed the walls with golden bits of ore in crushed rock. "

Allwyn dismounted at the tall, forged iron gates and inquired of Lancelot. The guards shook their heads and as one spoke, Corinna thought there was a touch of scorn in his voice. "The great knight is gone."

"When will he return, then?" Allwyn asked.

The guard smiled bitterly, "Perhaps you had better ask Mordred, although I would not recommend it."

"What has Arthur's nephew done now?" Allwyn asked, a touch of apprehension creeping into his voice. The guard did not reply, and was apparently not going to give them entrance.

Allwyn led the group around to the tourney field where a few armored men sat on their horses. They seemed to be halfheartedly undertaking a joust. One knight, a stalwart fellow with a plume of green feathers over his helm rode his horse to them, dismounted and lifted his hand in greeting. "Hail, Sir Allwyn, you rascal! By the saints, it has been a long time!"

Allwyn dismounted also, saying, "Sir Galeron! It is good to see you, old fellow!"

"Who an old fellow?! Young whelp, care to joust 'gainst me? I shall unhorse ye in the blink of an eye!" the older man chortled. They slapped each other on the shoulders and locked arms in the handshake of the brotherhood, as Telyn explained this to Corinna. The knight in the green plume inquired, "What brings ye and all these lovely ladies to us?"

Allwyn explained their mission and said, "I must ask a favor. We would unseat the usurper Corman and restore a rightful ruler to Somersea. If you could spare me the use of a battalion of seasoned men to lay siege..."

Galeron face had gone sober. He held up his hand, "I will do what I can, but there be sore trouble in Camelot of late. There is an insidious usurper at work here also. As you probably have been informed, we are without Lancelot."

"What happened?" Corinna saw Allwyn's face go pale.

"Mordred..." Galeron spat the name, and continued, "He knew how best to weaken Arthur's rule. He spied and learned certain things, and hence set a trap. The snare was the king's best friend and the Queen. And dammit, Lancelot and Gwenevere were not careful in their liaison, likely because...well, everyone knew of it for years and looked the other way. Of course, clever Mordred used Arthur's own laws against him, and demanded that Lancelot be hunted down. Meanwhile he and the knights who stand with him staged a trial and sentenced the Queen to be executed."

Rhian gasped, "They didn't..."

"No. Arthur must have counted on her being rescued in time, and he ordered his men to go unarmed to the village square. Mordred had planted his own men there, and of course they were armed. Lancelot came charging in leading warriors from his homeland, left a trail of dead and wounded, and rode out with her on his horse."

Rhian's face was relieved but solemn. She said, "I am saddened this happened to Gwenevere, and that we shall not see her. I hate it so, seeing Arthur's long reign come to this."

Corinna told her as she had told Allwyn, "The end is coming. Mordred will bring it about."

The lady looked at her, skeptically, then in curiosity as to how she could be so sure of the future. But Rhian's attention was then drawn back to Galeron as he told them, "Mordred has swayed many to his cause. He contends Arthur is failing, and that he should be the next king. The truth has been made known about his parentage, although it was no surprise to most of us. "

Allwyn nodded. "We have long known that. But, as for our matter, may we obtain an audience with the king soon, do you think?"

He replied, "I am in hope that Arthur will sit in the hall tonight, as he has been ill and absent of late. I will do my best to have him hear your entreaty."

Sir Galeron took them up the hill and through the narrow streets toward the great fortress. Corinna looked about her, noticing the things she had read about and more. Farm carts full of potatoes and sides of beef trundled past on their way to the kitchens. In a row of wooden market stalls, merchants dressed in bright, patchwork tunics and capes hawked every imaginable ware of the time, from doeskin slippers to pottery to oxen hides. Elaborately dressed and coifed noblewomen carried hooded hawks on their wrists, and soldiers wives in woolen capes carried home baskets of bread and cheeses. Grooms lead horses in fancy trappings to waiting noblemen and archers as they prepared for a hunt in the king's forest. Giggling children munched on sweetmeats as they frolicked behind their parents in the packed dirt street.

They walked up the incline and through an arch bearing a great golden cross above it. The gates to the castle grounds were opened for them at Galeron's word, and he sent for servants. The group went across a laid stone court with large fountains and were shown to their guest solars on the upper floor of a villa. The women were given two chambers that connected to each other by a marble lined hallway. Rhian said, "I never cease to be impressed by the finery. There is a reminder of Roman luxury here, as if Arthur and Gwenevere restored the best of the empire's designs."

After a long nap that relieved her travel fatigue, Corinna strolled out on the terrace. The height of this tower lent a gorgeous view of the sunset over the deep forest. Back inside, she examined the intricate tapestries that lined the pink scrubbed walls and admired the heavy cherrywood table adorned with golden candelabra. Heavy blue hangings covered the paned windows and the beds were large and piled high with satin, down filled covers. Instead of a rush light, there was an oil filled lamp.

Three serving women came to pour warm baths and wash the ladies' hair. Next they brought in several gowns, undershifts, and hair dressings, courtesy of Sir Galeron’s bidding, they said. Terra and Kieva oohed and aahed over the finely worked gowns and took one each to their chamber. Rhian chose a blue satin dress with a beaded white chiffon overlay. Corinna dressed in a slim, deep amethyst silk with wide silver coils as a waist belt. The dress had an exotic, Egyptian look that intrigued her, and the women exclaimed how it set off her creamy skin and dark hair so well. Kieva and Terra came out looking very pretty in yellow and pink waist nipping gowns. They took their leave, anxious to see the great hall, laughing over the antics of some young knights they had passed in the court earlier.

Corinna and Rhian stood at an open window and looked down on the river and the fields, fiery golden and beautiful in the sunset. This was Camelot... They looked at each other, and Rhian said quietly, "You say it will end soon? You know this because you are not like us?"

"I am much like you, only...I was born in a different time. Yes, it will have to end. I know you probably don't believe..."

Rhian said, "I believe things now I used not to believe. I learned while listening to the Wise Woman and her husband, even as they taught me the use of healing herbs." Her blue eyes met Corinna's steady gaze and she asked seriously, "Are you a sorceress, then?"

"Heavens, no! My step-uncle may be...an alchemist, or something of that nature, but I assure you he is a good man. Did Allwyn tell you I was sent from my time in the future, to yours? That was by sorcery...or magic, I think. I believe Sylva and Emrys are connected to my journey."

Rhian studied her a moment and did not seem to scoff. "I see. And will you ever return to your own time?"

"Yes. I was told I must."

"Soon?"

Corinna looked down at the polished marble floor. "I think so."

"Allwyn wants to marry you. I expect he will arrange it soon. Did you know?"

"Yes, I suspected something like that."

Rhian looked at her with a serious gaze, touched by deep concern. "Allwyn does not love easily one woman. But once his proud heart is given, his love is fiercely loyal, all consuming, and forever."

Corinna lowered her head and turned away with an empty feeling inside, then she met the stern eyes of the older woman and said sadly, "I don't know how to tell him. I truly do love him. I hope you believe that."

She thought Rhian's face softened a little, but before she could reply a knock came at the door. A page boy bowed and inquired, "Lady Rhian of Somersea?"

"Yes, I am she."

"Marek of Scotland has requested the lady's company beside him at the King's table."

Rhian looked surprised, then pleased. She replied, "Tell Marek I shall honor his request."

When he had gone, Rhian seemed to forget the words that had passed between them. She hummed a merry tune and fussed with her hair, and Corinna thought, how unlike her. She had the look of a schoolgirl about to go on her first date.

"Who is this gentleman, Marek?" Corinna inquired with a smile.

"He is my husband's brother. I have not seen him in years, but..." Rhian fairly blushed as she said, "we were sweethearts once, long ago, before I married my beloved Admiral Marinos."

Corinna followed her through the archways as they left the solar, and Rhian continued,

"You see, I thought Marek had died in battle against the Saxons, before the treaty of peace. A few years ago I learned he had been their prisoner. He escaped, wound up in Northern Scotland and found favor with one of their kings. Thus, Marek became a captain and married of the royal line, this king's cousin. His wife has died two years hence, and he has since served Arthur as his royal ship's pilot."

"Ah, yes, I remember, the man you hoped for at Dunmoor's Wall."

"Aye." Rhian wrinkled her nose, "And, the wrong man came, but praise the saints, Allwyn saved the day." She looked and Corinna then and said simply, "You must tell him."

As they entered the stairwell that descended to the hall, Corinna said with sincerity, "Now it seems as if you and Marek have a second chance. You deserve it, and I am very happy for you."

She realized just how much she was going to miss Rhian. They had become like sisters.

Sir Galeron had seen that his guests were all well dressed by Camelot's clothiers. The young king-to-be, Telyn, seemed more mature in his purple velvet toga belted by a chain of wrought gold. Behind him walked his tall champion, and Corinna found it impossible to even glance away. Allwyn had looked dashing to her whether he wore leather, homespun, or clothes of royalty, but tonight her well-muscled warrior was splendid in a red tunic over close-fitting black breeches and a sword in a silver scabbard on his hip. He turned plenty heads among the glimmering ladies of the court, and Corinna heard one say, "Who is this one? Why, he rivals even Lancelot!"

Allwyn's eyes were only for Corinna. He came to take her hand and kiss it tenderly, then he gazed at her and said, "I have never seen this color so stunning on a fair lady."

"Thank you" she smiled, sure that her face must be glowing, "And you sir, could be a handsome movie star in costume."

He frowned, "A what... Whom?"

She laughed, "Oh, Wyn, the things I could show you in my world! You might have even more to learn than you taught me about yours." She closed her eyes a moment. If only he could come to her time.

It came to her suddenly, why not? Emrys, dwelling in the Forest of the Charmed...perhaps he could harness the powers that made it possible! She suddenly dreamed wildly it could happen. And to think, she had scoffed before that such magic existed.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she tripped on the trailing hem of her beautiful gown. But for Allwyn's quick, strong hand, she would have fallen willy-nilly onto the King's well laden banquet table. They shared a laugh about it and he seated her next to Rhian and Marek.

"I have been asked to sit at the Council of the Table, but I will join you later," Allwyn said, kissing her cheek.

"May I slip in and see that famous room?" she inquired.

He shook his head, "I am sorry, my love. The guards would never allow it. No woman, not even the Queen, is allowed there."

She waved him away as her lips quirked in an ironic smile. "Figures. But, those old boys' descendants will have to change their ways drastically."

The women's voices and laughter buzzed about her. Rhian came and introduced her old friend, Corinna suspected her lover, Sir Marek. He was a stocky, handsome red haired man with a hearty laugh and twinkling blue eyes. After the formalities, he and Rhian became absorbed in their own conversation. Indeed, they had many lost years to catch up on. Corinna saw at another table, Terra was exchanging blushing glances and small talk with Galeron's young squire.

When the servers brought out trenchers of steaming meats, several knights and their ladies took the high backed chairs near the upper end of the huge table. Only three seats around the head of the table remained empty, and Corinna had noticed the carved, tall chair with the golden cross woven on velvet backing. Her anticipation increased as she wondered if the High King, Arthur, would make it to the feast. She also noted the two empty chairs, one on either side of the head chair, and Rhian whispered those were Gwenevere's and Lancelot's.

Suddenly she understood what Rhian meant when she said it wasn't the same and the castle seemed sad without them. There was an empty feeling, that something important was missing when you looked at those seats, and it hung over the hall like a cloud. No wonder the High King was reluctant to attend the festivities. It must be painful for him.

Corinna nibbled at a berry tart, and then at an exotic purple fruit that was quite delicious. She declined the serving boy's offer of a hunk of ham from the great platter. Looking around the room, she commented to Rhian there were fewer knights present than she expected.

"That is because some did not return from the Quest for the Holy Grail," Rhian said, shaking her head sadly. "Many died or were imprisoned. Only two knights achieved it and one became immortal, so it is said."

"Where are those knights?"

"Sir Percival saw it, and is still journeying to find it again. Sir Galahad, the one purest enough to touch it, died of finding it, and was taken to heaven by a holy host of angels. So the stories have it."

Allwyn came to them just then and asked what their serious conversation was about. Corinna looked up at him. "Did you ever wish you had gone on the Grail Quest?"

He sat down beside her and his arm encircled her waist. He replied, "I did go on it for a time. But I am glad I abandoned that most futile search, even as Lancelot finally did. He said his heart was not in it."

"He returned to be near her?" She nodded at the Queen's empty chair.

"I believe so. Truthfully, there was a time when I was disapproving and scornful of the hold he let the woman have on him. But now, since you came, I understand," Allwyn said softly, "I understand it very well." He looked at her with such tenderness that her breath caught, and close to her ear he said, "I do not need to seek anything more. You are my Grail."

Corinna pressed his strong hand between hers and hoped he read in her eyes how she loved him.

A stir in the crowd and shouts of "The King!" heralded the figure making his way down the stairs. He was supported on one side by a rotund man in priest's robes and a red haired giant of a man on the other. "The man in the middle...Is that Arthur?" Corinna asked Allwyn.

"Aye. He is clearly nursing a hangover."

A woman nearby said to her companions, "The large man is Sir Bevedere, the King's half brother."

"They are whispering that the latest trouble may undo the King."

"It was a blow, but do not underestimate Arthur. He is a born leader, and I say he will fight to the end."

The crowd around them buzzed with speculation. Corinna saw a knight hand the King his gold circlet, which he placed upon his head. He was a big man, and he seemed sturdy and strong despite a slight paunch and some white at the temples of his thick, sandy hair. His steel blue eyes were rather bleary and mirrored the concern of one who is laden with cares. He wore a deep green velvet robe belted loosely over a gold trimmed toga.

Bevedere seated him and spoke pleasantly to the room, "Forgive your King for not being here these past days, he has been a bit ill. But tonight he will be with you and listen to any desiring an audience."

People from foreign lands came forward to greet the King as diplomats or envoys seeking trade. Corinna explained to Allwyn that the dark skinned colorfully robed gentleman was probably African, and the golden skinned men and women in silk kimonos were from the Orient. Many of the visitors brought exotic gifts for the King and his court, such as bright plumaged birds, framed silk screens, urns, and even afghan hounds. It was engrossing to watch, Corinna found, for just as politicians acted in the twentieth century, so did these envoys many centuries before as they sought favors at the seat of power.

It was growing late when Telyn was presented to the King by Sir Galeron. Allwyn stood beside him, and several knights were called to come forward. Someone near Corinna said, "That is Sir Gareth, and there is Sir Owain."

Corinna could only hear part of the conversation at the head of the table, since the ladies around her would not stop chattering. But she heard Arthur say to Allwyn, "My heart was saddened greatly at Belderan's passing. If as his son you wish to take his place as King of Somersea, I had thought to appoint you such."

Allwyn's face was set and calm when he stood close to Arthur and spoke for some time. Suddenly the king looked astonished and his voice raised as he said incredulously, "You wish Beldaran's cousin to be king...because you are not Beldaran’s son, but Lancelot’s!?"

Corinna and Rhian looked at each other nervously. This might not set well with Arthur nor aid their cause. What if the King had come to hate his first knight, and was not just making a show of hunting him as a fugitive, as Galeron seemed to think.

Looking at it from his standpoint, Arthur certainly had reason to hunt down Lancelot, and the Queen, Rhian said this aside to her.

Corinna whispered to Rhian, "It may not matter. Don't you think Arthur knew all along about Lancelot and Gwenevere? Sometimes such affairs are common with royalty. As most royal unions are, it was an arranged marriage, right?"

Rhian nodded, "Yes, I believe it was. There was gossip that after her miscarriage of the child they hoped would be heir to the throne, that they slept in separate chambers. I suppose that after so many years, and when you have the weight of ruling a whole country on your shoulders..." She suddenly broke off to hear what Telyn was saying.

"My Liege Arthur, if I am Lord of Somersea, I shall rule after your own example and with all the wisdom I took from my years beside Beldaran. This valorous warrior, Allwyn the Defender, will be my lord-of-arms. Together we shall strive to keep peace and justice and see the people prosper..."

Telyn went on speaking softly in his clear voice that could sing so well with a harp. Rhian said, "My cousin was ever a good diplomat, and he will make an excellent ruler. Arthur must see that."

Corinna nodded, "I think it went well."

The High King's face had broken into a smile. The conversation in the room resumed at full pitch, as most present were not that concerned about who ruled a small coastal kingdom called Somersea. Corinna saw that Arthur was still talking earnestly with Telyn and occasionally they would even laugh. Allwyn came to fetch the ladies so they could meet the King. Arthur bowed to each of them and commented that he was indeed fortunate to be surrounded by such beauty. Once, only once, he glanced at the Queen's empty chair and his eyes were vacant for a moment. Then he clapped Telyn and Allwyn on the shoulders and called for Bevedere to make a toast. Silver cups were lifted all about the hall as the big knight shouted, "Long life to Telyn, Lord of Somersea, and long life to the High King, Arthur Pendragon!"

Musicians struck up a tune on flutes, harps and lyre, and the wine and ale cups were filled and filled again as laughter rang in the smoky hall. Several knights, including Allwyn and the king-apparent Telyn, gathered around Arthur. Corinna slipped up the stairs and outside, strolling along the high walk under a starry sky. She skirted the entire length of the villa and rounded the corner on steps that led up to the gate tower. Bonfires of peat had been lit on the outer yards and burned bright enough that walking was easy. She breathed in the damp, cool air of an early summer night, the wind lifting her hair and bringing the scent of blossoms from the garden below.

Glancing down at a sudden movement beside the portcullis, she flung her hand to her mouth as a figure in a long black cloak flitted between the torchlit arches. There was no one about in the small courtyard off this set of chambers. She ran down a series of winding steps, knocking her knee on a cornerstone and stumbling, but she soon found herself face to face with the elusive wizard.

"Emery, wait! I need to speak with you! No, don't turn away!" Her tone was sharp and demanding, although she tried to control her anxiety.

"It be Emrys," he replied brusquely, "Emrys of Glamorgan. Some say the grandson of Emrys the Druid."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Corinna muttered. Then she pleaded, "Whoever you are, I know you have some kind of powers! Can't I stay in this time, at least awhile?" She gestured at the towering walls asparkle like diamond dust and the rippled pools of light in the graceful fountains. "Look at Camelot! Can't it be persevered, just remain the same for another twenty years?"

Emyrs sighed, and the lines in his brown face seemed deeper as he spoke softly, "would that it could go on for eternity. Perhaps it will, in our memories and our hearts."

"I will never forget," she whispered, "thank you for this, as well as for rescuing me those times."

He smiled wryly. "You do have a knack for gettin' yourself in a kettle, young lass."

"How is Sylva?"

"Quite well. The woman's energy amazes me."

Corinna said softly, "You must tell me about you and she transcending time. Were you always together? I want to know where all you have been, what you have seen..."

He backed away and held up a hand. "My child, perhaps one day... Ach! Saints preserve me!" he ended with an indignant exclamation as his cloak swung into a low torch placed under a casement ledge, and caught fire. He could not get the clasp undone quickly enough, and instead backed to the fountain and swiftly sat in the water with a loud hiss as the flames were doused before doing any harm. Uttering a string of mild curses, Emrys inspected the damage while Corinna, relieved he was all right, stifled a laugh with her hand.

"I am done for now," he muttered, brushing at the sooty fabric. "Sylva spent two months weaving this from the finest wool of black sheep. She will chafe at me mercilessly over the ruining of it."

"Perhaps it can be mended."

"Aye. Ah, well, child, I must be going, I have a roof to thatch."

"Wizards don't thatch roofs."

He turned back with affronted dignity and corrected, "Mage. And yes, I most certainly must thatch it, but, I shall have aid from the peasant whose child Sylva healed. Farewell."

"Wait!" Corinna entreated persistently again, "Couldn't you...somehow alter the forces...use your powers so I can stay with Allwyn?"

"You must return, when the light comes for you," he said firmly, "I do not control such powers, and only at times may I harness some of their formidable energy. You must go, alone."

Corinna ran after him, determined that he should listen. Ahead, several men and ladies were singing off key and laughing loudly as they came into the pool of torchlight. Her attention was distracted by the merry, disorderly group for only an instant. When she turned back, Emrys was gone. Something skittered through the vines along the wall, then there was silence except for the voices still singing in the distance. She called for him, and waited, to no avail.

Disappointment swept over Corinna, but she knew she must go in and join the others, else they might worry where she was. She stared one long moment into the starry sky above the high battlements where the banners of Pendragon fluttered in the night wind, and shivered with a sense of magic surrounding her like a dream. Then she made her way toward the great hall.

Allwyn's face was beaming when he came to Corinna on the walk outside her chamber. "I think it went well. I believe on the morrow, Arthur will declare Telyn the Lord of Somersea."

"I am so glad, for you, and all the people of Falconaire," Corinna said, looking into his dark eyes and finding the fire smoldered in them as he took her into his arms. She tilted her head back after several kisses and reluctantly reminded him, "I am sharing a chamber with Rhian."

"I know my love, and we must follow protocol, as much as I would like..." His eyes lighted and he murmured with a touch of mischief, "Is there a chance you can slip out and meet me in the gardens?"

Corinna considered the idea with much interest, but she declined. "There are a lot of people about this place, someone would see us."

He reluctantly agreed. "I wish to make the most of our time here." He promised with a smile, "Tomorrow will be a wonderful day. Sleep well, my only love, and I shall see you come the morn." With one more tender kiss, he left her.

A knock at the door woke her to sunshine peeking through the window, and when she opened up a woman stood there with a garment across her arms. She greeted Corinna, "good morn, m'lady," and brought in a gorgeous ivory colored satin gown trimmed in gold embroidery and pearls. She moved about quickly, applying petal perfumed water to Corinna's shoulders and neck, and then insisted on lifting her hair in pearl ribbons. Corinna's questions brought only a secret little smile and, "It is a surprise for you, from Sir Allwyn, m'lady."

At the woman's bidding, Corinna followed her through the village and suddenly they were at the cathedral. She was escorted by ornately dressed ladies into a vestibule, and she stared in surprise at Kieva, wearing a beautiful gown much like hers, with Terra fussing over her long misty veil. The girl was smiling conspiratorily at Kieva. She came to Corinna then with a similar veil, and before she could speak, Terra perched it on her hair and circled it with a lush crown of white baby's breath.

Then she heard the beautiful strains of the music of several harps coming from the other end of the crowded church, and Terra was saying, "This day is yours to cherish forever, m'lady, and oh! what a lucky one you are, to wed such a man as Allwyn!"

Corinna's mouth fell open and she stood like a statue, thinking, oh my! What do I do now? But Terra gave her a gentle nudge forward and whispered, "Follow the flower girl. The priest knows he is to instruct you."

The music of a dozen golden harps swelled and a golden robed choir began to chant a lilting song. Corinna tried to walk sedately along the red carpeted isle, following the little girl in pink who sprinkled her path with rose petals. Kieva and her flower girl came right behind her, they went past ornately dressed nobles and ladies. Rhian and Marek sat on the front row, and...the king himself! She gave an audible gasp, steadied herself and walked toward the altar where Telyn stood. He was dressed in robes of rich purple and gold. Then she saw her Prince.

Her throat caught as her heart stirred at the sight of Allwyn in a white, gold trimmed tunic and a blue velvet cape, clasped with an emerald brooch and thrown over one shoulder. He wore his polished sword in a belt and scabbard of hammered gold. He could be a handsome knight in a fairy tale, and indeed she wondered if this scene was an incredible fantasy taking place, not reality. His glossy dark hair was sleeked back and tied with a ring of laurel, and his eyes told her how he adored her as he watched her walk toward him. The haunting music as the singers harmonized to chimes and lyre echoed sweetly in her ears. Corinna found her vision hazy with tears at the sheer beauty of the ceremony. A wedding at Camelot, a fantasy dream beyond her wildest expectations. She trembled, overwhelmed for a moment as they stood before the white robed priest in the midst of a hundred glowing candles.

Allwyn, his throat tight with emotion, never wanted to take his eyes from her. God, she is beautiful! I am undeserving, but because of her I am a most blessed man after all, he thought as she walked gracefully to him.

Corinna looked into his glowing eyes. Her handsome groom smiled and whispered, "I took this chance, praying you would have me as your husband. Remember, I am no longer a prince."

"You will always be my prince," she whispered back, smiling through shining tears. "My prince of the mists. Yes, Allwyn, I will be your wife."

They knelt, joined hands, and Allwyn spoke so all could hear, "This day I plight thee my troth, and for all our days I shall love, cherish and protect you." She gave him a loving smile and with the whispered prompting of the priest she returned the vows, and with a lump in her throat added,, "Always, in my heart, you will be my husband, come what may. And, please know forever that I love you."

He kissed her hand tenderly and slipped on it an exquisite ring of intertwined silver and gold.

Outside the church Arthur's gift to them awaited: a gilt trimmed carriage drawn by a team of white horses. Rhian and Marek said their good-byes, but he swore it would not be long before his ship sailed up River Brue and to the estuary. Sir Galeron's young squire, Geraint, persuaded his master to help the cause by allowing him to accompany them to Somerea. Terra was fairly dancing on her toes, and Galeron chuckled and said to Allwyn, "See to it this lad finishes into a fine knight with you, for I fear I have lost him to this slip of a girl."

"As much as I would like to linger and celebrate this joyous day, " Telyn said, taking Kieva's hand in his, "We have much work to do in Somersea."

"Aye," Allwyn replied, taking Corinna’s hand in his. "Let us ride for home."

The horses, rested and newly groomed and shod awaited them at the gates. As they prepared to ride from Camelot, a group of riders in hunting gear approached, calling to them. Corinna saw that the man in a richly trimmed red tunic and cape was King Arthur, and everyone lifted a hand to hail him. His eyes were clear and steady as he took a vellum document from his page boy, and addressed Telyn. "In honorable memory of my valiant friend, Beldaran Ap Lucius, I present you this as my word and law. God bless and go with you." The king handed the roll to Telyn, nodded to the rest of them and rode off for the hunt in the royal forest.

They had ridden into the hills when Telyn opened the document with fingers that shook a little. They waited while he read, then he raised his fist with a triumphant shout. He turned a joyous face to the group, "This is the High King's own seal on a proclamation that I am the ruler henceforth, of Somersea."

Kieva and Rhian leaned forward and clasped hands with him, then he got out of the carriage where everyone hailed Telyn, their good friend and now their king. Corinna noticed that Allwyn looked rather self-satisfied.

"You knew all along you would pull this off, didn't you?" she smiled.

"I sent word all through the land that it was Telyn who should be king," he said, "And our meeting with Arthur went well, as he is a wise ruler. But now, Corman will not be so easily convinced. I fear there will be bloodshed at Falconaire before Telyn takes his rightful place."

"Would Corman dare defy Arthur's proclamation?"

"He has always held a certain contempt for the High King and all he stands for. After talking with Sir Galeron, I fear there may be serious trouble that will involve the whole country." Allwyn went on soberly, " If Mordred raises an army using dissenters such as Corman, which Galeron thinks he will, then Briton will see strife again. Just as it was before I was born, when Beldaran said the lords bickered and battled among themselves while invaders overran their land little by little."

Corinna said, "Maybe this won't happen soon." She fervently hoped this were true.

He said, "I have sent a rider to the fortress to summon my horsemen back to Falconaire. I think convincing Corman to abdicate his power will take all the forces we can muster."

"You will be going to battle?" She couldn't keep the note of dread from her voice.

"It may be so, my dearest. But you shall be safe at Duke Rhys' stronghold on the border of Wales."

His eyes were distant as if he already planned for war. Corinna's heart ached as she thought, I don't want to be separated from him now, when I have so little time here.

But what right had she to make demands of him when she would not be remaining here as his wife? And what other choice did she have? She couldn't very well camp out in the meadows at Falconaire, not with his warriors sharing every available tent.

Chapter 20

Each morning, the Duke’s wife Betia sent a rider to the encampments outside Falconaire to bring back the news. Her husband's and Allwyn's combined forces had held the fortress under siege for a week, but the food supply seemed to be sustaining Corman's men. And reports had it that he had raised quite a large army, bringing in new fighting men from his homeland, plus the remainder of Cardew's band which had returned to him.

As they unrolled a bolt of cloth in the sewing room, Betia told Corinna and Rhian the latest report. "The young king-apparent has declared Sir Allwyn his Captain-of-arms to the approval of all, and there was something about Allwyn having a plan to get inside the walls at Falconaire, via an tunnel underground or something..."

Rhian and Corinna looked at each other and smiled. "It could work!" Corinna exclaimed. Rhian said hopefully, "Let us pray it works. But they have to be careful of the tides..."

Their faces clouded with worry, knowing that anyone going into the cavern could be trapped and drowned. "Let's go to the chapel and pray they will be safe," Rhian said.

Galeron's squire, Geraint, who had been left with a few other men to guard the women, escorted them to the little gray stone church. Terra walked close beside him and several more women from the fortress joined the procession. The priest received and blessed all who came.

When they returned to their daily routines, some of the anxiety had dissipated, Corinna noticed, and even felt more at peace within herself as she strolled in the rose garden.

That afternoon, unexpected visitors were led in and the gates sealed behind them. The pair riding on the same horse appeared to be a man and a woman, and they looked weary to the point of falling from their mount. Both had tangled hair and their clothes were travel stained, but the big white charger they rode was adorned in red livery trappings and gold studded reins. Corinna saw the shield that bore red emblems on brilliant blue, and pointed this out to her companions.

"Yes," Rhian and Kieva agreed, "That looks to be Lancelot's crest."

As they came closer, Betia exclaimed, "I wouldn't have known by his roughened appearance, but yes, it is Lancelot! Then her hand flew to her mouth," and, oh! That woman with him looks like...can it be!? Gwenevere, the Queen!" She rushed away to receive them, and behind her the women's voices buzzed in gossip.

As they dismounted, Lancelot's arm went around the woman protectively, a gesture that seemed born of long habit.

Rhain said, "He saved her from burning at the stake, now they have come to this." Then

her face brightened, "At least they are alive, and together."

That is all I ask, Corinna thought, that Allwyn and I can be together and safe.

Kieva said, "We hear they have been like fugitives on the run in the wilderness. Arthur laid siege to Lancelot's castle, so they could not take shelter there, but now he has pulled back his men to prepare for defense against Mordred. That must be why they dare come out of hiding."

"And this was not the first time Lancelot saved her from a terrible fate," Rhian commented, "Perhaps he knows Duke Rhys and he will help them. I doubt that Arthur himself would allow Mordred's evil plans to harm them any further."

Betia showed her visitors to the guest chambers, and sent them fresh clothing and servants to pour their baths. She fussed and fretted that she had nothing in this dreary mountain dun fit for a High Queen to wear. Rhian helped her chose a linen shift and a blue overgown, commenting, "I doubt she will mind after what she was wearing. They have had a long ordeal in the wild and will be grateful to you for your hospitality."

Betia licked her lips, and Corinna thought, the woman was wondering just how grateful. Then the Duke's wife rolled her eyes and whispered, "I shall give them succor as they rest to ride on to Joyous Gard, but I certainly hope they do not linger, for if this should reach the papal gossips in the countryside... Well...there is disapproval concerning her conduct, and she supposed to be a Christian woman!"

Not two hours later at the table in the main hall, Betia presented her guest to everyone as "My dear friend, The Good and Gracious Queen of Briton."

The thought occurred to Corinna even before Rhian said aside to her, "Betia is ever one to play the game of shifting diplomacy, if she thinks it may gain her favor with someone powerful."

Corinna glanced at the queen, who had been seated at the head of the table. Gwenevere was trying to be gracious, she would give her that, but twice during the meal she snapped at a servant's clumsiness, and then looked around restlessly, appearing bored with the women's conversation. Of course, Betia's women did prattle on, and the Queen was used to finer surroundings than this dun could provide. But, there was a condescending attitude a little too close to the surface, Corinna thought. Perhaps anyone in her position might seem the same way. She was a beautiful woman, with only a few streaks of gray in her thick auburn hair. Her eyes were blue as cornflowers and her skin radiant and milky for a lady close to middle age.

Before she finished the simple meal of potatoes, ham and gruel, Gwenevere suddenly lost all patience and stood up, asking, "In God's name, where is Lance?"

The accent was totally proper British with the hint of a thick brogue. She clinched her fists angrily when a boy spoke up timidly, "Sir Lancelot bade me tell you... He has gone to help the Duke and Sir Allwyn lay siege at Caer Falconaire.

Gwenevere whirled to Betia and cried, "Always war and fighting! Is that all men live for in this world, pray tell? I just want to go someplace quiet and safe, for I have long been sick of their conflict and contests..."

Betia gave her a cup of warm mulled wine and led her toward the garden, saying, "You must see my lilies, your highness, the bulbs came all the way from Egypt and when I planted them..." Their voices faded outside as the last rays of a gorgeous sunset filtered into the archway.

The atmosphere in the hall became instantly more relaxed, and a boy brought out his reed flute and began a lively tune. Terra and her squire Geraint began to whirl about the center of the room, laughing merrily, and soon other young couples and some not young had joined in the fun. Corinna clapped her hands to the lilting Celtic music along with the rest and forgot the anxiety of waiting for awhile. When the melody ended, Kieva left her dancing partner, Betia's elderly father, to sit down. The girl's pretty face was wistful as she said, "I wish Telyn were here playing his harp for me. He is much better with the harp than the sword... Oh, I pray and he and Allwyn are safe!"

"So do I," Corinna said through the painful tightness in her throat.

The following evening at dusk, she walked out in the garden and was hardly aware of her movements because her thoughts were with him. Ah, my Allwyn, my sweet Defender...it can't end like this. Surely we will be together again, before I have to leave you...

She turned to the magnificent spreading of flame and gold in the western sky and breathed a prayer for her husband. She stood there awhile in the twilight, smiling softly, remembering his touch. As she turned to go inside, she became aware of a far away, strange sound coming and going on the breeze. It seemed as if someone in the distance were singing raucously through a bullhorn. She ran to the top of the wall, her heart thudding with hope as she remembered some of Duke Rhy's men carried oxen horns hollowed out for use in battle. Squinting to see better in the gathering dusk, she made out several dark shapes coming across the fields. Soon she could see it was a large band of riders, and they came from the direction of Falconaire.

She dashed into the main hall. "The men are returning!" she cried to Betia, who flung her hands to heaven and shouted "Praise the Christ! Glory to God!" She gestured frantically to the servants, "Prepare hot water and cloths and pallets! Lay the tables for feasting and bring in the ale vats! Summon the midwives and any others skilled in healing!"

Apparently this was not the first battle that Betia had seen the Duke return from, Corrina thought, as the woman rushed off to tell the entire household.

At the gate came the clatter of hooves and the clank of weapons and armor, then the male voices raised in song. "We are victorious! We are the bold and brave! The forces of evil fled from our mighty wrath, they fled into the sea..."

When the weary, battle stained warriors trooped into the hall, there was food, spirits and music awaiting them. One by one the women rushed forward, each to greet her man as she was able to distinguish him through the grime. Marlon, his arm wrapped in a bandage, shouted for a toast and lifted his cup of ale, "To Telyn, the next great King of Somersea! And to Allwyn the Defender, his First Champion!" The room roared in approval. Marlon told everyone that the original occupants of Falconaire were safe and quite grateful to their rescuers. Enough of their fighting men had been left at the fortress to hold it, he declared, but it was not likely Corman's forces would return, given their heavy losses.

Gwenevere had found Lancelot and even as she kissed him was making a fuss over his arm which had sustained a blade wound. Betia led the weary old Duke to his favorite chair, put a cup of ale in his hand and helped a servant remove his muddy boots.

Kieva and Corinna waited among other women beside the doorway, their eyes searching the line of men frantically and the fear mounting, that their husbands might not be among the warriors who had returned. Kieva caught Marlon's sleeve as he trudged past them, "Can you tell us of Telyn and Allwyn?"

"Aye, My Queen," the captain grinned, "They are outside, sound as can be." He said to Corinna, "Sir Allwyn was something to see in the fighting! He and Lancelot both...why, it was if all the years were not gone by! They battled like avenging angels."

Corinna left him and followed Kieva running to the yard. Allwyn and Telyn were helping carry the wounded from the wagons on pole litters. Her heart was touched as she thought, the new King and his First Champion, quite deserving of their titles. They always put other’s welfare first.

"Kieva! They are over there!" she pointed, and Allwyn looked her way. He smiled through the battle grime and she saw his bloodstained cheek bore a diagonal gash. He carefully settled a wounded man on a straw pallet and called for a boy to bring water. Then he came to her and crushed her against his chest and lifted her in his powerful arms, swinging her around with a triumphant laugh, "Oh, my Raven, my sweet wife! I swear, you have never looked more beautiful to these tired eyes of mine!"

His mouth closed hard over hers and she forgot the anxiety and fear of the past few days as she met his passion with a burning hunger of her own. Looking up at last, she saw Telyn and Kieva with their arms around each other, going toward the royal chamber. She smiled and said impishly, "Looks like the new king and queen won't be attending the celebration in the hall until later."

"I think we should also explore that notion, my love," Allwyn whispered huskily as his seeking lips grazed her neck and moved downward.

"I was hoping you would say that," she sighed at the shivers of desire he had ignited. She took his hand and said, "C'mon, first I will clean that cut on your face."

"This little scratch was put here by Corman, the man who would be king, himself."

She exclaimed, "You got that close to him in the fight?"

"I found him giving orders from Beldaran's court dais, which incensed me. I faced off with him alone, sword to sword.

Corinna bolted her chamber door behind them, lit a candle from the fireplace embers and with a hollow feeling she asked, "Did you kill him?"

"No. An unfortunate turn of events prevented me, for I was hell bent to do so. His men rushed at me and I had to fight my way off the dais. I left him wounded, how badly I do not know, but they carried him off as they fled." For a moment fury darkened his face. " Why does his finish always elude me?! Albeit, I believe we are rid of him." He pulled off his boots and sank into a chair.

She wet a cloth in the basin and smiled, "I think I know how you got inside Falconaire."

"Aye, the cavern. It is no longer our secret, for now all my men and the Duke's army know of it. I took several swordsmen with me and we had opened the gate before Corman realized we were even there. All the way here, Rhys' men sang of our battle cunning and bravery. They are a

singing bunch, these Welshmen."

"As well they should. I could think of nothing but how you might be trapped in the tide." She smiled then as the strains of lusty voices drifted up from below. "I imagine they are telling of the whole exploit in the hall right now."

"I doubt we will be going down there to hear them, my love."

"What makes you so sure, sir?" she said in a teasing voice as she slid the cloth over his back, lathering and rinsing, and exploring mischievously with her other hand. She helped him dry with a linen and bade him stretch out stomach downward on the bed. She took from the basket of bath things a vial of scented oil that she had procured from the resident apothecary. She straddled his backside and proceeded with a soothing massage. The oil smell like a mixture of honeysuckle, mint and musk. It tantalized the senses and suggested subtly of where the rub down might

lead. She had him to roll onto his back and gave his chest a thorough massage, and every now and then she bent to kiss his navel, and then lower still. Her eyes lit with a teasing fire as she rubbed on the warm oil. She let her hands roam in sensuous exploration over the magnificent territory of him.

"My love...I cannot stand much more of this kind administering of yours..." he groaned as her touch inflamed him. He reached up and began to undo the laces of her gown. But then she shifted away to rub his legs and feet, ignoring the throbbing evidence of his desire for her. Carefully, and too agonizingly slow for Allwyn, she stroked her way back upward to the inside of his thighs. She marveled once again at his beautiful male perfection, then she tossed the vial aside and flicked her tongue teasingly over him. "Ah, by the Goddess, Corinna!" he moaned and entwined his fingers desperately in her hair as her mouth closed around him. It intrigued her, his uninhibited cry to an ancient deity that worshipped the Mother Earth and fertility. Inspired by the very taste and feel of him, she loved him greedily in ways she hadn't before, impishly thinking to herself that she hoped her boldness wouldn’t be off putting to him. It was soon apparent her actions had just the opposite effect. He bucked and twisted and cried out, "Oh, my Love! You will kill me with this pleasure...but don’t stop!"

She rose the, laughing, and helped him remove her dress. He covered her face and throat with hungry, panting kisses. He cupped her breasts in his hands and bent to them and suckled each nipple until she was writhing against him, begging for fulfillment. Vowing to show her the same kind of wild ecstasy she had just shown him, he lifted her naked in his arms and carried her to the down filled bed. She wound her hands in his dark locks and rested her legs upon his hard shoulders and surrendered to the sensations of his hot mouth and seeking tongue. She cried out his name again and again, her body lifting, shuddering, coming to a blazing, sweet release.

Driven into another frenzy of desire by her cries, he lifted and spread her legs apart and his eyes burned into hers as he almost entered her, then he stopped. "I want all of you, now!" she pleaded, and strained upward to take him in, but he held back, teasing with gentle thrusts. She begged, "Oh, Wyn! Please! Take me now, or I swear, I'll go crazy!"

Still he held back, although the effort was killing him. He rasped, "Say you are mine, for always. Say it!"

She gasped, "I am yours! Oh, yes, always! Please..."

Allwyn could wait no more. He surged into her, plunging himself again and again deep into the sweet, hot core of her, of which he knew he would never have enough. He moaned her name over and over as they lunged and rolled in a Maying dance all their own. She gently nipped his moist shoulder and tasted the salty sweat that beaded his body as they strained toward an ever building summit of ecstasy. "Ah, my love, my forever love..." he whispered.

Lost in the pleasure of him, Corinna heard his low cry of release and she wrapped her legs tight around him, following him as she throbbed faster and faster to a dizzying, ultimate pinnacle of joy. And still he kissed her as their breathing calmed and they clung together for a long while, completely sated, lost in the incredible moments they had given each other.

They moved apart then to lie side by side, languidly caressing each other, and she giggled, "I

hope these walls are thick as they appear. As it is, I will be blushing when I face anyone in the morning."

He chuckled softly in the shadows, "I would wager you, my sweet wife, that we are not the only couple celebrating life and love on the night after a battle. In fact, as we entered this chamber, I saw Lancelot and Gwen slip through the shadows down the hall."

She smiled lazily, "You don't seem as disapproving about that, as...say...Betia is."

"The Duke's wife is from a strictly proper family," Allwyn mused, "But should it ever fall that Gwen was ruler of Briton, I daresay the woman would fawn over her as if she were a saint."

Corinna laughed, "I got that feeling about Betia also."

Then she became serious. "That love of Gwenevere’s and Lancelot’s, could not be denied, and it must be real since it lasted through everything. There is probably a set of circumstances in the Queen's life that many don't know or understand. I would imagine that losing their child years ago, not to mention the demanding duties of the crown, drove her and Arthur apart as a husband and wife. And when she grew disillusioned, there was the helping hand, her champion and friend, Lancelot, who had always loved her but kept silent for the sake of honor. Yet, when he saw her becoming more and more unhappy... Well, am I pretty close?"

"You are," Allwyn said with a wry grin, "But then, you have an unfair advantage have read of it long after."

She smiled, "Betia's women also gossip a lot."

He said, "The one time Lancelot spoke to me of it was before a battle with rebelling Saxons at the eastern border, when we were outnumbered and I believe he thought death a real possibility. He said to me, "I know it was wrong and it well may lead to our destruction, but do you want to know something? Whatever comes, She was worth all of it. To know I am loved by the one woman I ever truly loved...I tell you, let the sky fall, let them kill me, but I would do it all again, for her."

"And when Mordred twisted Arthur's laws to have her judged for execution, your father charged in and saved her, knowing he would have to fight fifty armed men."

"Aye. Not Arthur's knights, but Mordred's own guard came out to thwart the rescue. According to Galeron, Arthur ordered his men to go unarmed. Unfortunately, in the fray Lancelot killed some of his own from the Brotherhood, and Arthur could do naught but send a party to hunt him and seize his lands." Allwyn sighed then. "No dynasty lasts forever, that is the way of it. The High King and Queen meant well, and in their time worked a very successful rule of Briton that will never be forgotten. But, enough about them, we should talk about us. I know now that those same words my father said about Gwen, I would ever speak about you and the love we share."

Corinna began to ache inside, and she whispered, "Time may tear us apart, but we will always be together in our hearts and our souls."

"Why so sad, my only love?" Allwyn looked at her, concerned. "We will be together always, just as I promised. I swear it. Do not believe all the people of a country survive because of one man, not even one as revered as Arthur. Another king or great leader will surely rise to secure his land. If war does sweep in, we will go farther into these beautiful mountains and live happily in a safe haven together..."

She squeezed back her tears as he spoke, weaving a beautiful dream of the life they could have. Could have had, if only I could stay, she thought wistfully. His voice trailed off as he fell asleep in her arms.

Chapter 21

The happy sounds of children at play and the workers singing in the fields could be heard about Falconaire once again. The fugitives who had fled Corman's regime returned from the hills, and the children and wives of his soldiers were allowed to remain or go, as they wished. The young king and queen settled in, and with Rhian as one of their advisors, had gone about the tasks necessary to pull the ruling seat of Somersea together.

Allwyn practiced daily on the field with his men-at-arms, and as Corinna walked along the peaceful river, she often paused to watch. Her heart always quickened at the sight of his dark hair flowing in the wind, his tanned face intent as the sword in his hand flashed, wielded against a practice post or another warrior in mock battle. He mentioned Lancelot occasionally, but not even he had word where the knight had gone and no one seemed to know. From time to time travelers brought word of invasions and fighting which was keeping Briton's army on the move.

The woods and hills had burst into full green foliage and colorful wild flowers blanketed the meadows. On sunny afternoons Corinna and Rhian worked in the gardens, replanting herbs and flowers where uncaring boots had trampled the young plants.

They had returned after Corman's occupation to find the beautiful falcons all gone. The old keeper told of how Corman turned them loose and laughed as they scattered into the sky. Then the unexpected happened. As if they knew things were back to normal at home, a few of the birds returned. One by one they swooped into the courtyard, among them Bright Arrow and Beldaran's great Peregrine. Watching Allwyn at hunt with them, the sun on his glossy hair and his gauntleted arm lifted to retrieve a falcon, reminded Corinna of their first afternoon spent together. It

seemed such a short time ago, when they fought and pretended scorn for each other, all the while knowing the inevitable; that they were falling in love. If only it could go on forever like this, she thought fervently, the sun-drenched mornings after a gentle rain, warm days tempered with breezes from the ocean, the cool nights by the fire in each other's arms.

One late June morning, the wonderful feeling of lasting contentment was shattered suddenly for Corinna. She looked over the casement and saw an army on horseback lined along the causeway, their lances pointing to the sky and their armor winking in the sun. Then, Lancelot stood at the gate calling for Sir Allwyn and the King. At a squire's hurried inquiry of her, Corinna told him Allwyn was out hunting with his falcon.

Running to the gate, she overheard Lancelot's plea to Telyn, "I need every man of your guard you can spare, and I need Allwyn's mounted warriors to ride with us to Camlann, post haste! Mordred has come to claim the throne of Briton with a warhost of thousands! We must stop him there, for Arthur's forces are seriously weakened..."

"Oh god, no..." Corinna whispered as her heart froze in dread, "not yet..." But it must happen, history said so. Camlann... The place where the reign of Pendragon would end. She walked away and sank onto a bench near the garden, hoping, that maybe Allwyn had gone into the forest and would not be found. Some time later she saw his horse being led from the stables with many others.

She ran through the courtyard where men had begun dressing for battle and found him in the main hall. Gavin was helping him buckle on the silver battle armor.

"Wyn, no!" she cried, "as your wife, I beg you..."

"Do not. It will be useless" His voice sounded like someone else's, cool and remote, and she knew there would be no stopping him. He buckled on the heavy sword belt and picked up his shield.

"Then wait for me while I throw some clothes together..."

"No," he said, not looking at her. "You will stay with the others and be taken to a safe haven should this war go against us. That battlefield will be no place for a woman."

She gripped his hands and forced him to look into her eyes as she said emphatically, "It will be no place for men either. Please listen to me! It is history, that few will come away from Arthur's last battle! Not even Arthur..."

His eyes were like granite when he interrupted her brusquely, "I am a Knight of Briton! Even if all this be true, still my duty is to fight for my king and my country." His voice softened then as he beheld the sorrow on her pale, lovely face, "I beg forgiveness, my love, but my honor will not let me stay."

"Honor!? What about love!?" she cried out furiously, and whirled to run away, her face burning with both hurt and anger at once. She went to the arbor and leaned against the wall, turning her face to the rough stone as she fought back scalding tears. Rhian and Telyn hurried past, and she heard Allwyn saying to the them, "Should an invader move closer, I have arranged for Rhys to escort you and all who wish to go, to the mountains and your relative's village. Should I not return, know that I pray for your well being, always."

Rhian smiled bravely and clasped his hands, "Worry not for us, valiant Defender. A kingdom is of its people, wherever it may be."

Allwyn turned to Telyn, "Please, my friend, take good care of Corinna."

"I will, " the new king promised, "And you take care of yourself, Champion, so that you may return to her, and us." They moved away to instruct the men with the horses.

Corinna felt someone touch her arms and then gently turn her, and she stood facing Allwyn.

He pulled the gauntlet from his hand and softly caressed her wet cheek. He said, "Corinna...I can scarcely bear this parting from you at all, but if we part angry at each other, I shall ride into battle with a troubled soul."

"Then let me come with you," she whispered, "Because these may be our last days together."

He sent Gavin to fetch his horse, and came back to her and took her in his arms. "My Raven, I want nothing more than to have you at my side, but this is one freedom I cannot allow you. My love, listen to me. You and my family shall ride safely with an armed escort for Wales. I have already told Rhian and Telyn this."

"They will go to the mountains and be live in peace there," she nodded, "The wise woman told me that, but she also told me to make the most of my days with you. I will come along, darling, you can't stop me!"

Before he could forbid it, she kissed him and said, "I love you and I treasure every moment we can share together." She looked deep into his eyes and willed him to take her along.

He said quietly, "No other can take control of my will, but you have. Get your things together, Lancelot is waiting."

They rode all night across the marshlands guided by the light of the Northern Constellation. They slept on the banks of the Severn and crossed the channel where it narrowed, the horses splashing through the water belly deep. The battalion of four hundred knights and calvarymen rested at daybreak and then pushed on.

Later in the day, Corinna found she was not the only woman with the band. She looked back and saw Gwenevere riding beside Lancelot. When they paused for a rest the queen spoke to her, "I want to congratulate you on the marriage, and wish you and Sir Allwyn the best. You seem so happy," she smiled.

Corinna found her interesting and pleasant enough as they chatted about things like buying cloth and sewing and planting gardens. She did not see her again until late in the day, and it seemed the Queen was becoming pale and clearly showing the strain of long hours on horseback. Corinna was feeling it herself, but was fiercely determined not to let Allwyn see how saddle weary she had become.

When next they paused to rest and water the horses, Gwenevere was distraught with everyone. She pushed Lancelot away as they argued, and she ran into the trees not far from where Corinna had dismounted. Corinna led her mare further downstream to drink, but still their voices came to her. "I cannot go further! I am no longer suited to living in the wilds, and I cannot bear to see this battle take place! It will be our fault, if Arthur..." Gwenevere's clear voice reached the point of breaking.

Lancelot replied, "No, my love, never say the war is our fault. What happened was but one of many devious schemes of that witch’s bastard Mordred! I shall stand beside Arthur and end him."

The Queen gathered herself and said calmly, "I wish to go to the convent, at the passage to the Isle of Man, where I was schooled as a child. Gather me an escort."

"Not that!" Lancelot protested, "You will go mad there in the seclusion!"

She said firmly, "I shall have complete secrecy and sanctuary there. It is best, I tell you."

"Gwen! No..." He gripped her shoulders and said something that Corinna couldn't hear. Gwenevere lifted her chin and said, "I am your Queen, and you took a vow long ago to protect me and see my wishes carried out. I am still Queen am I not, Sir Lancelot?"

And Lancelot bowed his head as if beaten at last. "As you wish, my only love."

The band took a detour toward the sea. When they reached a valley, the nuns were summoned to the gate of the gray walled convent. At the edge of the forest she and Lancelot dismounted and walked to the bridge that spanned a wide stream. She turned and held him a moment, then she said softly, "Tell Arthur I will always love him, though we part forever."

Lancelot was trembling. "You are sure you want this...and that you will be all right?"

"I am sure. You must go, my champion, go and fight for our king."

"I shall go, then! I cannot bear to linger with the thought we may never see each other again."

"Ah, but we will, my Lance," Gwenevere gently lifted his chin with her finger. "When the war is over, you will come visit me?"

He said fervently, "If I am still alive, an army of a thousand shan't keep me away!"

When she had remounted, Gwenevere reined her horse around and addressed the band, "God bless and keep every one of you, brave defenders of your blessed land! Long live Briton!"

The warriors lifted their battle lances in salute and roared in one voice, "Long live Briton! Long live its King and Queen!"

She rode off in the direction of the convent with an armed escort on both sides and front and back. One of these was the monk-turned-soldier, Abbot Tullias.

Corinna rode close beside Allwyn into the golden sunset, and they talked like they never had, about their childhood days. He listened in wonderment as she told him about college and modern life in the city, and she listened in awe as he told her of his schooling at the abbey, his exploits in battle and on the tourney fields at Camelot, and riding the borderlands with his father as their forces kept the land safe. They did not speak about the battle to come. He already knows the outcome cannot be good, she thought wistfully.

That night, as she lay wrapped in his arms after a tender lovemaking, he said, "However this should end at Camlann, I want you to know that you have given me the happiest days of my life. I believe we shall yet go to that safe place I told you of, and build a fine home and raise our children. Beautiful children they will be, like their mother."

Corinna thought she might weep. She took a shuddering breath, and spoke the words before she could change her mind. "Wyn...there's something I must tell you." He smiled and placed a finger on her lips. "No, Listen to me!" she sat up and looked into his eyes. "Please, my darling forgive me for not telling you before, but I couldn’t bear the thought you might be angry and turn away from me. I could hardly believe it myself, but..the mage Emrys is immortal and is my uncle Emery Markham in the twentieth century. He has told me the same powers that sent me here dictate that I must return to my own time, soon, and there is nothing anyone can do to change it."

His long silence weighed heavy between them. Then, looking at the wall of the tent he asked quietly, "Why would he send you here only to take you away?"

"I think it was to ensure your return to Falconaire, so that you would save your people, his people and Sylva’s. Perhaps also because he and my aunt wanted me to find true love, at last."

He did not reply and turned on his side, putting his back to her. I have alienated him, he will no longer trust nor love me. Blinking back tears of misery, Corinna curled into the warmth against him and whispered, "Although I have to go back, I will always love you."

If Allwyn was awake and heard, he gave no sign.

Their camp rolled out at dawn. Lancelot's men took provisions from a nearby farm and everyone ate ravenously. They rode on without stopping until midday, when a boy on a pony met them at the Old Roman Wall. He related that both sides had suffered heavy losses and pulled back into the hills to pitch camps and tend their wounded.

So this was Hadrian's Wall. Corinna looked over the spine of piled earth and rock that stretched as far as the eye could see. The ancient, man-built formation had crumbled enough to form a rough passageway for riders, but the men had to use axes to carve out room for the wagons to get through. Built by the Romans when they occupied Briton, the Wall hadn't kept the Northern raiders out then, nor would it in the future. She watched the knights and their brigades and the infantrymen following the proud battle standards, weaving a wide, steady line, and she realized with an empty feeling the futility of it all, the best men of Briton, all rushing to the battle of Camlann.

Since he had risen this morning, Allwyn had spoken little to her, and then with a remoteness in his tone. He strode about the camp seeing to the men and horses, Serpantslayer honed to keen perfection, buckled at his hip. Corinna wished fervently for some time alone with her husband, a chance to make him see her reasoning and why she had not told him her secret before they married. Looking now at the truth from his point of view, she realized he must be very disillusioned with her. Perhaps he hated her. Did it matter? She blinked back tears as she realized it would tear her heart out to part with him, especially with this between them.

That night the band rested only a few hours and pushed on before daybreak. Around midmorning, the sounds of metal clashing and frantic shouts drifted to them on the wind. "The fighting has resumed," Lancelot said to Allwyn and their captains, "I say we best stay out of sight and send two scouts ahead, so that we not ride into a trap."

Chapter 22

The seasoned knight's battle wisdom proved to be sound. Only one scout returned, an arrow in his shoulder, and with a pain twisted face he cried, "Mordred's forces have Arthur's men surrounded, in the valley beyond the wood! A heathen horde ambushed us at the river! Daren was hit by a Picti spear, I could not save him! The bloodshed down there is horrible..."

Corinna felt as if a cold iron fist gripped at her stomach and would not let go. When they came to the edge of the trees and peered down the slope at a vast field, the hazy sun revealed the flash of blades and a few battle standards fluttering. The horsemen were dots moving in wavy lines toward each other, the footmen were barely visible thrashing through the waist-high wildgrass. She remembered Emery saying something about it once... "Camlann was a Welsh name...it meant `The Long Meadow.' Narrower at one end with the river weaving around it, a quick retreat was impossible and many men were trapped."

They rode closer. The fierce fighting had spread across the grassy flatland by now, and into

the reed patches around the water. Corinna thought she might faint as she realized the river was not reddish brown naturally, but from the blood of the slain bodies that littered its banks. The stench of death lay heavy in the still, warm air. A flock of buzzards circled overhead, awaiting a lull in the din before swooping down. At Gavin's suggestion she stay safely from sight of enemy soldiers, Corinna led her horse into the thick woods on the slope, while Allwyn and Lancelot used their keen visions to scour the meadows and river banks, searching for the King.

When Allwyn rode past shouting for his men to form ranks, she ran to him with a shaky cry, "Wyn, please...don't go down there!" The sound of men screaming, axes hacking at armor, and swords crashing against shields echoed in the trees. He didn't seem to hear her.

Lancelot galloped to him and drew up so hard his great charger reared. He pointed to a horde of warriors bearing shields emblazoned with stark white daggers on black. "Mordred's crest..." Lancelot's lips curled in a sneer of hate, and he called to his horsemen, "Stand ready! Prepare to charge!"

The front line of knights couched their lances. The warriors readied their spears and blades. Lancelot pointed, and cried out to Allwyn, "There is Arthur, beside the bend at the river! He is wounded!"

Corinna saw the bright red and gold Pendragon standard draping from its broken staff into the mud, and several men lying beneath it. A handful of knights protected the King.

At a familiar voice speaking her name, she whirled in surprise. Allwyn bent down to her and squeezed her hand in his gloved one. In his dark, fiery eyes she saw more love than she could ever have imagined existed, in her lifetime or his. She gazed back at him, wanting to etch his look in her thoughts forever, smiling through her joyous tears. "I love you, my Prince. I swear, somehow we will be together again!"

"Yes, my love, I hold that belief with me," he said. Allwyn then motioned her back into the trees, to safety. He snapped the visor on his helm closed and signaled his men forward.

"CHAAAARGE!" Lancelot's bellow echoed in every grove and hollow, and was followed by Allwyn's shout, "Forward, men of Somersea!" And their force thundered down the slope, the two of them leading the onslaught in the manner of the old warrior’s alae, a jagged wedge that hit Mordred's main infantry line and rode right over them. Then the shouting line reformed and his ax wielding Picts and armored Silures with heavy weapons met them. They clashed again and again and became scattered across the lower grassland in the thick of the fray.

Hours had passed, Corinna could tell by the sun when she finally halted her pacing. She peered from the brush, straining her eyes to find Allwyn by the falcon crest on his blue shield, but she couldn't spot him anywhere. Now the sky seemed to be growing very cloudy. In one of the last rays of sunlight she saw Lancelot fight his way on foot to Arthur. He lifted him up from where he lay covered with blood, and Bevedere rushed over to help them. The expanse of meadow around them was littered with bodies. With so many down, how could there be any men left to fight?

She thought desperately, I've got to get Allwyn out of this. Frightened to her very soul for him, she made her way to the trees, and the day grew darker still. "I have to find him...even if it means going down there!" she said aloud.

She found her horse inside the thicket and started to untie the reins. A twig snapped behind her. Even as she turned, her hand went to the dagger tucked inside her bodice, but she was too late. A steel clad hand clamped around her wrist, and someone who wore black chain mail yanked her arms behind her roughly. A voice that chilled her to the bone hissed in her ear, "You may as well cease looking for him, he won't be coming to you. I made sure of that."

She saw the side profile of Corman's dark, stubbled face and smelled the stench of sweat and blood. She got a look at his suit of armor as he forced her to move toward the marsh, and realized in a surge of terror that this was the Dark Knight, and she was his captive. She shrieked for help and struggled wildly, fearing it was of no use. His grip was iron, and no one engaged in battle would see them moving through the brush. Corman grated between clenched teeth, "You should thank me, wench, we are leaving this hideous place via the coracle I left hidden at the river's mouth."

Still fighting to get free, Corinna said sarcastically, "That figures, you’re taking the coward's way out!"

His face twisted in an evil grimace as his fingers bit into her flesh. "You will pay dearly for that, and all your precious prince's meddling, too, when I get you to my ship!"

They were away from the fighting now. Her feet lost grip as he shoved her down the muddy bank toward a boat that was tied in the rushes. "No!" she cried out, "Allwyn!!" and thought with despair that calling for her husband was futile, since Corman had stated he had killed him.

But suddenly Allwyn was there, rising like a specter from the grass behind her captor, and she realized he must have crawled to them. There was blood, too much blood, soaking onto the armor around his chest. He raised his sword over Corman's helm and brought it down with an impacting blow. The grip on her loosened enough that she pulled free and she was able to scramble up the muddy bank.

"You should have made sure I was dead," Allwyn snarled, and laughed bitterly at the dark knight who rolled on the ground at his feet. Allwyn turned and came toward her, reached out to her, but then in horror Corinna saw her abductor had shed his destroyed helm and recovered from the blow. He sprang up and unsheathed his sword. Allwyn shoved her aside and she almost fell, scrambling out of harm’s way. Corman circled Allwyn in a defiant dance, muttering obscenities as he faked and parried with his weapon. "You and your stupid bard cousin may have stolen my rightful throne, great prince," he sneered, "but after I kill you...and this time I shall...I am going to take this woman you value so highly for my captive. That's right, she will warm my bed, while your bones are picked clean by the vultures. I shall yet win our battle!"

He lunged at Allwyn, who managed to thwart the powerful blow so that it struck his shoulder instead of his head, but Corinna saw that he was weakening from his wounds. He staggered back when the two locked swords again and swayed. When his adversary pushed free Allwyn fell into the mud heavily.

Corman's eyes gleamed blood red as he raised and gripped his weapon with both hands, preparing to plunge it into Allwyn's heaving chest. "No!" Corinna screamed. She sprang with a ferocity that surprised her, and, missing her aim for the Dark Knight's throat, caught him instead across his cheek. Corman flinched back, clutching the wound, and as she turned on the slippery footing to strike again, she saw Allwyn roll to his knees and force himself up on his feet. Corman saw him too, and he came hacking at his already damaged breastplate. Still Allwyn stood against him. Snarling an oath, Corman raised his sword above his foe's bare head, but suddenly he slipped sideways in the mud beneath them. Only for an instant did the Dark Knight remain unguarded, a slash in his chest armor was exposed, and it was all the Defender needed. Somehow, Allwyn found the strength to leap forward and his sword was a blur as it came up forcefully. Corman lifted his own sword to deliver the final blow, unaware for an instant that Allwyn had run him through. Then his eyes bulged in a disbelieving stare as Allwyn hissed, "That was for Beldaran!" Corman was dead when he toppled to the ground.

Allwyn staggered across the bank to meet Corinna as she ran to him, but then he crumbled slowly down to lie on the grass. She cradled him in her arms, the tears flowing hot down her cheeks, "Oh, my Allwyn, my sweet defender... You saved my life! I will take care of you, my darling, everything will be just fine."

His eyes opened and though bleary, she knew they recognized her. "Corinna..." he could barely whisper her name through his parched lips. She began to remove the armor, praying that the wounds were not too deep. But they were bad, she realized in the fading light and looked around desperately for help, but there was no one. She drew up her skirt and used the dagger to tear her white cotton shift apart for cloths to staunch the bleeding. After awhile it seemed to help, and his breathing became more even. He raised his head to look at her.

"Let us be out of here, my lady," he smiled. "Bring my horse..."

She swiped at her hot tears. Always a warrior, this man of hers would be. She knew despite his bravado he could not mount a horse, nor even rise from where he lay. She caressed his cheek and murmured, "Please just rest awhile, my darling, then..."

With a gasp he stared and pointed past her, exclaiming, "Look! What is that strange light, by yonder trees?"

Corinna's heart skidded to her throat and she could not breathe. Even before she turned, she knew what he had seen. The swirling blue-white cataclysm of time was coming for her, her presence here was ending, now. None other can return with you, you must go alone. The words of Emrys the mage pounded in her head. She thought of trying to run away from the light. Allwyn had closed his weary eyes, and she gently lay his head on her folded cloak, and got to her feet. But, as if to seal her fate, a cloaked figure suddenly strode from the trees, throwing a long shadow over her. "Emrys! No!" she cried, shrinking back. "Please! I can't go! I can't leave him like this!!"

His face was somber and his voice kind, "You must, my child. Look up at the sun."

She lifted her tear stained face and cried, "There is no sun!"

A dark orb had blotted it out completely and the landscape was covered in an eerie bracken twilight.

"What is happening? Is it the eclipse?" she managed in a strained voice. Then listening, she exclaimed, "Wait! I hear no fighting at all, now."

The mage spoke sadly, "That is because there are no able men left, on either side."

"The King?..."

"Arthur killed Mordred and took a mortal wound as he did so. Lancelot and a few remaining knights are with him. Look to the mouth of the river. The sisters carry him away on the barge. They take him to the Isle of Man to be healed."

Corinna saw a distant boat draped in black, with figures in white robes aboard. It was moving out into the glistening waters where the river fed into the sea.

"To Avalon? But...he will die?"

"That, I will not say for certain. Many unusual happenings take place on The Isle of Man, Avalon, as you say it. It is a mystical ground of the Old Ones that only a chosen few ever attain. I hope one day to be among them." He brought his thoughtful gaze back to her, took her hand in his gnarled one and said quietly, "The Ancient’s chronicle says Arthur will return in a future time." He smiled, "Perhaps it will be yours. Now, my child, you must go home."

Corinna shook her head emphatically. "I want to stay here, with Allwyn!"

"You cannot."

"What...What will happen!? Can you heal him?"

"I shall do whatever I can."

She broke free of Emrys' hand and knelt to lift her husband's head. She tenderly touched his face as the light swirled closer. Seeing her dagger lying near, she placed it in the sheath and pressed the pendant into his hand. He closed his fingers around it and looked up at her face. She whispered, "Remember, love and the human spirit know not the boundaries of time. Though we are apart, I will always love you."

"I know," he murmured, "and I...you..."

His eyes closed. She kissed his lips and tasted blood on them.

"You will have a safe journey back. Farewell, child," she dimly heard Emrys saying, and he seemed to be wrapping her in his mantle. The orb moved in and its force caught at her, tearing her away from Allwyn though she fought desperately to hold on a little longer, calling out his name. But the light was far more powerful, and she was pulled alone into the white heat that rushed her into a warm, floating oblivion.

Chapter 23

Corinna forced her eyes open and found she was standing at a wire fence above the beach.

Slowly, the words NO TRESSPASSING came into focus. Looking upward to the cliff, her heart thudded painfully as she saw that mighty Falconaire was only heaped, crumbling stones, jagged and dark against the fiery sunset. Beyond the ruins of Falcon’s Rest castle, the headlights of cars on the highway winked in the dusk, and the charcoal sea was dotted with ship beacons. She wore the white dress, covered by the mage’s dark cloak. The tears sprang hot in her eyes as she clinched her fists angrily, helplessly, and slowly fell to her knees. "Damn you, Emery, damn you and your magic!" she shrieked at the sky, and the only answer was her own voice echoing in the trails above the pounding sea.

She heaved a long, shuddering sigh, realizing that had there been no magic, she could never have gone to Allwyn in the first place. She might have never known love at all. She rose at length, brushed off the white dress which had certainly seen its better days, and walked slowly toward the bus stop.

It's hard to convince the police you weren't a missing person, when you vanished on a beach and nobody had seen you for two months. And it didn't help that a security guard claimed to have seen you disappear into a weird cloud of light that just faded to nothing.

She was lucky enough to slip aboard the tour bus bound for Somerset among the others and curl out of sight in a rear seat. Arriving in the wee hours, she had walked the rest of the way, crawled through a back window of the chalet and slept. Late this morning she had phoned the police department. She got dressed from her things in the closet and walked the paved road to town, determined to clear up the confusion. Then she would make an effort to get back to her life in the modern world.

After a talk with Detective Stokes, the officer assigned to her case, Corinna convinced him she must have fallen on the beach, suffered temporary amnesia and wandered off somewhere. "That guard was mistaken. Maybe he was on something," she suggested offhandedly.

He flicked a long ash from his cigarette. "We made several calls to California. It seems unusual to me that we could not reach the owners of the chalet where the cab picked you up. You do know the Markhams."

"I did. They travel, sometimes for months at a time."

"No, I'm sorry," she said at the officer's next question, "I have no idea where I was all that time. I believe I am all right. I feel just fine. Could I have my purse back? Coach, nearly tote size and brown."

He raised one eyebrow and she knew he was thinking; If she remembered losing her purse at the site, then... But he only sighed wearily and pulled it from the bottom of a file cabinet.

"I'm closing this case," he said, "But with my strong recommendation that you see a

psychiatric physician, immediately."

Corinna walked out and along the street, finding with some relief that her credit card had remained hidden in a false bottom of the purse.

Entering the parlor at the chalet, she saw that the answering machine light was flashing. She hit the button and Emery's quiet accent echoed in the room: "Welcome home, my dear. Adele and I send our love to our favorite niece and trust you had a wonderful vacation. You must feel very blessed, for who would not want to go on such a journey and learn what you have? Someday we will hear the telling of your adventures, but we shall be away a few months on an excursion of our own. Your aunt has finally started that book she always wanted to do, and the research has taken us to remote South Africa. Enjoy your success with your movie work. `Til we see you, take care, dear, and remember us fondly."

"Don't count on it," she muttered as she pushed the erase button.

She moved about the house, taking her clothes from the closet and doing a little tidying. Her thoughts were full of Allwyn and always would be, she knew. Staring out the window, she felt her tears starting again. I don't even know if he survived. If I could just know he was all right... Maybe it had all been a dream, a long illusion until she woke to reality. No, the experience was too vivid. She had been with him, in his time. Now she was alone in hers.

She sank down on the sofa and realized she had two choices: mope around here for days, or get back to California and get on with her life. She stood and a numb feeling in her chest threatened to overwhelm her. With willpower stronger than she had known she had, Corinna vowed, I won't think of what I lost. Only of what I must accomplish now. Odd, how she had forgotten just how convenient and luxurious life can be in the twentieth century, she thought, picking up the phone. She booked a flight for the next morning, then called Chakrah, who was relieved and elated that she had "popped up again."

"Are you all right? Why did you do this to me? What happened!?"

"I'm fine, thank you. It was circumstances beyond my control, and a long story. Everything is normal again."

"I could not reach you, I thought you had fallen off the face of the earth. Your replacement, the aspiring actress, is way behind and I fear is making a shambles of the project..."

Corinna interrupted, "Sir, if you will give me the job back, I promise I will have a wonderful, accurate manuscript ready in days."

Somehow more inspired than ever, Corinna sat down at the word processor and allowed everything to flow from her mind through her fingers. The information he wanted and a lot more pounded onto the pages, and working like a woman possessed, she had half the manuscript completed by dawn. Typing ensued all the next day, with her pausing only to order in lunch and dinner. On the third day she finished the first draft, phoned Chakrah and told him she would make the final revisions when she got back to San Francisco.

She finally slept on the plane home.

"Falcon's Rest is a wonderful film, a true success, worthy of becoming a classic," the paper critics were acclaiming it, in spite of the ravings for many "pop culture" films coming out at the same time.

At the premiere, Corinna sat beside Art Chakrah and his wife at a swanky front table where film executives, writers and assistants, and noted producers honored them for such a splendid depiction of the era and the people. "The setting lives and breathes the essence of Medieval times," one famous director said, and a film mogul commented on Chakrah; "The recreation of the Arthurian era and the scripting is so real, one would believe he lived it himself." The castle looming majestically on the screen was a creation from Corinna's detailed description of Falconaire.

Art Chakrah smiled for the press, and he could have hogged all the glory, but he gave Corinna every credit she was due, always introducing her as his "brilliant and invaluable writing assistant."

The accolades continued to come in, her picture appeared in some of the screen trade magazines, and her phone started to ring with offers involving big projects. Corinna found she hardly had time to have cappuccino with her friend Janey, but she did anyway. Her friend was her usual inquisitive self. "Wow, you must be busy! And you were away a long time...Tell me all about your trip to England."

"...Well, the chalet was nice, and the old castle I visited was quite...intriguing. Best of all, I got my work done."

"Sounds nice. Did you meet any cute guys?"

Finally, Corinna smiled a secret little smile, and said quietly, "...Ummm, yes, I did meet one, but he would not exactly fit the "cute" category." She added, "Thank goodness."

Janey beamed, "Like, wow! When do I get to meet him? Is he coming here? Do you have pictures?"

Corinna said, "Look, Janey, I have an appointment with a magazine writer in fifteen minutes. We can talk later, OK?"

She hurried to her car, thinking, maybe I will tell Janey everything, one day. Whether or not her friend believed it was up to her.

During the following weeks she threw all her effort into an educational documentary on world governments, all the while considering special movie projects. She stayed focused and wrapped up in her job. But, in the late evenings when she sat on the balcony of her new apartment in the countryside, she remembered the days she and her warrior prince rode through the tall, ancient forests of England. She heard his voice when the wind sang in the trees, and saw his eyes in the night sky. She lay alone in her bed each night and burned with the longing to feel his lips and his body joined with hers, his arms closed tight around her keeping her safe. For a few days she was fervently hopeful that she carried his child, a miracle that could transcend the time between them and keep part of him with her always. But it was only some temporary quirk of nature and soon she found with aching disappointment she was not pregnant after all. She prayed for at least a sweet dream now and then in which they were together again. No such dreams came, and in the morning she resumed her usual routine. Her life fell into a contented enough pattern as she resolved to be happy and live fully. But she politely refused any men who asked if they might call or see her for dinner. There would be no man ever again to match Allwyn, of that she was certain, so why pretend? She would simply be content with all these memories of him locked carefully inside.

In mid December, she received a lovely Christmas card from Emery and Adele who were now in Tangiers. Her aunt had penned a note inside:

My Dear Niece, it is urgent that you come to our home this weekend. Please arrive around 6:00 P.M. on Sat. if you can. Looking forward so to seeing you, Your Aunt Adele.

Corinna felt a small ache inside. She would stubbornly refuse to go visit them. But... She did miss her aunt, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, she missed Emery, too. They were her family, unusual as their heritage might be, and she had to admit they were intriguing. She couldn't help but wonder how many different times and civilizations Emery had lived in, and if he and Adele were now visiting one of them. She believed they meant well. However misguided

she might think their efforts, she knew they had in mind only the best for her, and used their powers to help other people. Maybe they only wanted to help her in finding true happiness. Perhaps they wanted her to experience love, if only for a little while. I knew more love during my time with Allwyn than many women know in a lifetime, she thought, as a kind of peace crept over her, at last.

It seemed so long since she had been to this place. The house was dark and seemed deserted, and neither the doorbell nor pounding brought out anyone. There was a key in her wallet, and she left her purse inside on the dining room table. Strangely, the sliding glass doors at the back were open. She walked onto the deck that looked out over the ocean. She turned to feel the warm sea wind on her face, and on impulse she walked down the step over the sea wall, kicked off her shoes and sauntered through the powdery sand, just like in the spring. It seemed an eternity ago.

Ahead there were a few people also walking, but as the sun sank low they went to their distant vehicles and drove off. Corinna decided she would return to the house to see if its occupants had arrived yet, and realized she had walked some distance to a wild, deserted portion of the coast. As she turned, from the corner of her eye she saw a rider on horseback coming from the old cottage half hidden by the windswept dunes. "Corinna!" Surely she was hearing things, but it sounded as if someone called her name. As the rider galloped closer, she saw it was a tall man on a black horse, and he wore a loose white shirt over dark trousers...and then her heart stood still.

"Corinna!" His cry came to her on the ocean wind. She knew the voice, knew it well, and she was trembling, scarcely daring to believe... He reined the horse to a stop, dismounted quickly and ran to her, crying out, "My darling Raven!" It was no vision, he was real!

"Allwyn!! Is this a dream!? How on this earth...?" Her joyous exclamations were cut short by his hungry mouth closing over hers, and she reveled in feeling his warm, hard body against hers, his arms wrapped tight around her. Suddenly the memory of all the long, cold nights vanished and all was right again, just as before. Somehow, some magic had brought him to her.

When she finally looked up breathlessly into his beautiful onyx eyes, he smiled. "I assure you, my love, this is no dream." He explained, "I made a little bargain with Emrys and Sylva, once they nursed me back to health. They are living at the Welsh mountain village, helping Telyn and his court with the new kingdom. That wily old mage, Emrys, grumbled that what I asked would drain his power for years. But in the end he and Sylva conjured up a miracle and sent me here to find you, because I begged them relentlessly."

"How is Rhian?"

"The Lady is doing quite well. She and Sir Merrick plan to wed soon."

He led the horse behind as they walked down the shoreline hand in hand. "For how long will you be here?" she asked softly.

He slipped an arm around her waist, "Emrys said I might return by going to Falcon's Rest at the height of the next lunar eclipse, if I wished. I told him I would not be back for an eternity. Not without you, anyway."

"You don't know how I have missed you," she said, tears of happiness spilling over on her cheeks. He kissed her fiercely and replied, "I do know, my darling. I longed so to feel you in my arms that sometimes I felt desperate, I was so cold and empty without you beside me. But, I never gave up hope that one day we would be reunited."

"Oh, Allwyn... " she whispered, overcome for a moment. Then she smiled up at him with inspiration in her eyes. "I don't think anyone's home," she gestured to the trees above the beach, "let's go up to the house... No, my Prince, on second thought, I don't want to wait that long!"

"Neither do I, my darling love. Let us celebrate our reunion under the stars with only the sound of the wild sea."

And they laughed exultantly together as he swung her feet off the ground and kissed her over and over. She threw back her head and let her hair whip in the breeze, while he ran his lips over her throat and downward as his hands hungrily caressed the lush territory he had fantasized about every night and day since they parted. She led him over to a ring of shadowed dunes and kissed him hot and hungrily as they knelt on the soft sand. They went out of sight into a world of their own, lying together holding each other in the warm, windy darkness.

At the round crystal window facing the sea, Adele and Emery turned away, smiling at each other. They left the study and went hand in hand down the hall.