Politics - Chapter Four

Bronwen had readied her pack. She was to meet Seth on the back stairs. She knew her father had ordered them to wait, but it wasn't called running away because everyone knew. Now was the time as Hawk's Audrey was dead and everyone would be to concerned with her death and murderer to worry about to run away lovers.

She hurried down the back stairs to where Seth had said they would meet. It was dark and cold. Winter was approaching quickly and she knew they had a long way to go before the first snows fell. She didn't know what plans Seth had made, but her mother had given her a cloak with coins sewn into the hem.

Seth appeared as if from the very walls and smiled to Brownen and said,"Hello my love. I am so happy that we are able to finaly be married. I love you." he said all of this in a whisper and it could be seen he had been training both his mind and body intensely, even though he now no longer a squire. He smiled to her and said,"Let us leave and go to our joyous destination.

"I am frightened." She confided. "What if Sanglet found out? What if he follows us?" Her eyes showed her fear and she pulled the wool cloak tighter around her.

Seth grinned and said, "I broiught along some protecton in case that happens. The longer we stay here around here the more likely it will happen. It is alright that you are frightened, I am a little shakey myself. I do have confidence though." He moved closer and placed a deep kiss on her lips and said,"I am ready if you are." His eyes showed confidence and reassurance.

She nodded. She looked back at the Caer as they were leaving. It had been her home ever since Uncle Wyn had sent for her. She let Seth help her up onto a horse that was ready. "How did you get rid of the stable hands?" She asked. "What of the guards at the gate?"

"I know the guards at the gate and I have told them ot step-aside for a short time. I also knew the stable hands and asked them to do the very same thing. They are not aware of why or even what will happen. They will not mention my name either. It's a respect among men." Seth lept up onto his horse and said,"We'd better get going. Are you alright?" Seth wanted to provide her one last chance. He loved her enough to let her say no, if she chose to do so. He hoped she would not choose that path though.

Bronwen paused and then nodded. "Yes, let us go. I am sure that Hawk will be forced to send at least a token persuit." She kicked her horse forward. It was now or never.

Seth smiled and kicked his horse as well and thought,"I love her so much." he smiled over to her as they began their journey to marriage.

***Arch-Druid's Main Abode***

As he entered his study and sat down in front of the fire, he sighed. It was good to be home again, but dark clouds were looming on the horizon towards Caer Alban.

He looked towards his aide, "Dwrn, send a messenger to Caer Alban. I fear that something might be wrong. I fear that she may have struck again."

Dwrn gave a small bow and exited the study.

Eruic stared into the fire and stirred it with a poker. He relaxed and cleared his thoughts. The scrying began.

The vision came into focus. He saw children, dozens of children huddled together in the dark. He saw blood dripping down the walls surrounding them. The vision shifted and he saw Caer Alban, glistening in the sun. A dark raven flew between the sun and the Caer, casting it in shadow. The Raven circled ever lower, keeping the sun at bay. He saw a royal funeral procession. The vision shifted again and he saw a small and perfect blossom. It was in a garden, well tended and obviously loved. A raven landed and picked the blossom, carrying it off into the sky.

His eyes cleared and there before him were the dancing flames of the fire. He wiped the sweat from his brow and jumped up. He ran to find Dwrn.

"Dwrn!" he called and as Dwrn rounded a corner towards him, he asked hurriedly, "Is the messenger gone yet?"

"No, Father. He is not." Dwrn replied, concerned to see the Arch-Druid so distraught.

"Then add to the message! Princess Rowena must be protected at all costs. In fact, she should be brought here as soon as possible! Tell the messenger to hurry, it is urgent! I must have news from Caer Alban, something is very wrong! I must..." He collapsed, but Dwrn caught him before he reached the ground.

Dwrn said to the two nearby druids who approached when Eruic collapsed, "Take him to his chambers and make him comfortable."

The druids did not hesitate and with love and concern in their eyes they carefully carried Eruic to his bedchamber.

Dwrn rushed off to reach the messenger before the man departed for Caer Alban. Something must definitely be wrong for the Arch-Druid to be so overwhelmed.

Morgan had gone to Caer Alban twice only to be turned away. Something at the castle had happened in the Caer to throw the castle into mourning. Finally, she got an appointment with a Lord Alterian.

"Good day, milord" She said as she entered his office. She held out her hand for him to take.

Before Alterian stood one of the most beautiful women he had seen. Her hair was the color of spun silk and was only drawn loosely back about half way down her back. The rest of her hair fell easily to her waists. She was small and delicate. He was sure she didn't measure up to his chin. She had almost a fey appearance, just enough to make her look like some precious ornament. The most unusual thing were her eyes that were the color of polished Jade. He realized he was staring and took her hand and kissed it gently. "Good day, milady. Welcome to Alban. How may I assist such a lovely creature to grace my office?"

His attempt at flattery was not lost on Morgan and she smiled. "My name is Morgan Brasar.I was recently widowed in the wars surrounding Dinas Dwr. I have come South in hopes of establishing a new home. I was hopeful that you might be able to put in me in touch with property? The price would be no object?"

Alterain could think of new estates for the taking. "Your best bet is to seek out the Earl of Abertawe. His touch with the lands about is much stronger then mine. I will send a note for him to come to the palace and direct him to you. Where might I direct him?"

"I am staying at The Swan. I could find no better place? Do you reccommend another?" She asked with a small helpless smile.

"No, that inn is a fine one now. It has recently been overhauled. I would offer you rooms at the palace, milady, but the timing is poor." Alterain looked truly sorry. For in truth, he had men looking for Princess Bronwen. He had the King who was not doing well and the rest of the royal family in arms over the two events.

"I understand, perhaps I may come to court when it reopens?" She asked graciously.

"Of course, milady, and feel free to frequent the castle proper. It is a well gaurded home and will provide you protection should you wish to walk in the gardens." He offered.

"I will take that in mind." She smiled "I bid you a good day, milord." She did not wait to be dismissed but turned and headed for the door.

Alterian beat her to it and opened the door. "I would be glad to offer my company at dinner, milady?"

Morgan smiled. ~Perfect!~ "I would be honored. I will see you at the seventh evening bell?"

"As you wish, Lady Brasar." Alterian bowed as she departed. He watched her small figure sance down the hall. ~A widow? Maybe it is time I considered my own family after all?~ He shook his head at foolish thoughts and returned to his office and his reports.

Amlyn pushed his way through the door to the Swan, seeing it for the first time with his own eyes. This late in the evening, many of the regular patrons had already staggered off to the comfort of their beds, but a hardy few remained to party on in the aftermath of the coronation. There was a haze of smoke that leached out into the common room from the kitchen, while an assortment of dirty plates and mugs were scattered about the tables haphazardly. Several of the outlander servants had already begun to clean up, despite the fact that they seemed a bit worse for wear. Amlyn ignored the glares from several of the patrons and walked over to the bar, placing his good hand up on the counter and waiting patiently. He had made no effort to conceal his identity.

A weathered old barkeep sat perched on a high stool behind the bar, his thin frame resting lightly against shelves of bottles and cups. While he seemed aware, his hooded eyes and rhythmically rising and falling chest betrayed the fact that he was quite asleep. "Swithen!" A distant shout from the floor shocked him from his slumber and he woke with a snort. It took him a heartbeat to realize where was, but the moment he had his wits back he was off the stool and approaching the somber looking knight at the counter. "Good even' your lordship, an' what can I get you," he said even as his eyes went involuntarily to the man's empty sleeve.

Good question thought Amlyn. While he was not a teetotaler, drinking was not one of those pastimes particularly high on his list of favorite things-to-do. In particular, he resented the ability alcohol had to make people lose control of their actions if consumed in excess. It seemed so much else of his life was very much out of control, that he saw no attraction in forcing the issue upon himself. So he scanned the shelves quickly in an attempt to gather a list of choices, but then he realized he hadn't a clue what half of the bottles were anyway. It was always a foregone conclusion. "Ale, please." He didn't even have control over simple choices like what to drink.

Swithen nodded without surprise. The Swan was developing a reputation for its strong ale, and more than a few lords had made their way to the Swan for a little taste of the outlander ale. He turned to the taps poured a tankard of the best.

While his drink was being poured, Amlyn turned about to examine the occupants in more detail. ---

The tavern's remaining 'hardy few' seemed to be drawn from the lower rungs of Alban's social castes. Of the fifteen or so customers left in the room, perhaps a dozen could be considered sober enough to stand. These occupied three tables. A trio of shabby booze-hounds who looked as though they could probably ill afford even the lower priced ales occupied one. At another sat a group of foreign mercenaries, obviously well into their cups, arm-wrestling to the shouts and encouragement of onlookers. This latter group had attracted the attention of the few remaining whores in the room, as well as several tradesmen who stood watching and placing wagers on the improvised sport. The last customer was an ugly giant of a man accompanied by a pair of large black dogs. He looked to be at least as twice as broad as Amlyn and a good eight stone heavier--Amlyn couldn't help but look twice.

"There ya be m'lord. The first is on the house on account of the King's coronation," Swithen said, as he handed over the mug to the knight.

"Gramercy," replied Amlyn, turning away from the patrons to gather up his drink. Before Swithen could settle back down on his stool, Amlyn asked "Is the owner still awake at this hour?"

"I haven't seen him for a couple of hours m'lord. He said something about having to look after some business. But I am expecting him soo-- Well bless me. Here he is himself," Swithen said, glancing over the knight's shoulder.

Amlyn looked around to see a slightly winded Pwyll striding into the tavern. Seeing the knight, Pwyll made straight for him. "Grey man! Well met!" he said extending a hand. "Surely you haven't come to give me a lesson on this moonlit eve?"

Because of Pwyll's display at the coronation, Amlyn had finally learnt from a bystander that he was one of the sons of a Chieftain, an emissary receiving King Hawk's hospitality. In deference to his background, he bowed briefly. "Nay I have not. I am leaving on the morrow, and I thought I should at least let thee know of my absence."

Pwyll was a little taken aback at the bow. He was certainly not used to such deference from his own people, and aside from his limited dealings at court he rarely if ever engaged in such displays of status. "Please Arawn. If you bow to me here people will think I have even Death at my command," he said with a smile and a wink. "You will of course join me for a drink before you depart," he continued, indicating a nearby table somewhat removed from the room's other occupants.

Amlyn gave a short nod, and after a bit of awkwardness as to who should be seated first, the two eventually took their seats. Pwyll made a brief signal to Swithen who proceeded to fill a pair of small cups from a second barrel. A second signal to a small outlander on the corner stage brought forth a quiet melody of harp music. Turning to his guest Pwyll said conversationally, "So. Where are you off to then, and how long do you think you'll be gone?"

"East," replied Amlyn. "There is talk about a Sect of one of the pagan gods abducting and murdering peasant folk. Which is the other reason why I've come to see you," he added, glancing about the bar as if in casual interest. "I confess to understanding little about Donn. I was hoping you might be able to tell me something about this deity and the people who would worship it."

Pwyll's lips thinned at the mention of the cult. Although his people had been touched only indirectly, the memories of his friend Ithel's disfigurement were still fresh in his mind. "The Donn, eh? Those bastards bring nothing but grief to the old tribes." Pwyll paused to spit. "This Dunn, as we call him, is a drinker of human blood, a snatcher of souls, and the perfect--" Pwyll's voice faded as Swithen approached the table and placed two small cups on the table. "Thank'e Swithen," he said, watching the old barkeep return to the taps. "The perfect model for the one-god worshipper's devil."

Pwyll paused to take a small sip from the cup before him. He looked at Amlyn as if measuring him. This one armed knight with the mysterious past might be just the one to deal with this cabal. "This is not first time the Dunn--and by this I mean the followers of Dunn--have made such raids. A bard could tell the story better, but in a time before my father was born they supposedly rose up and attacked isolated villages and farmsteads. They took their victims to a 'n anfad chyflea-- literally a 'wicked place'-- where it was said they were bled to feed Dunn. The story goes that a 'n anfad chyflea was eventually discovered and all the Dunn were killed." Pwyll took another small sip from his cup. "There's always some measure of truth these tales, but obviously not all were killed."

"Do you have any clue as to where such a place may be?" As the question was posed, Amlyn had picked up the small cup and sniffed the contents. He had expected some sort of mulled wine or mead, but was instead surprised to smell a much stronger and sharper odor.

"I know not where this 'n anfad chyflea was located, only that it lies somewhere to the east of this place--near Ailinne I expect," Pwyll replied.

Amlyn paused in raising the cup to his lips, pondering Pwyll's words. "Ailinne. I remember hearing something about it in passing as I headed to the border many weeks ago during the battle with Nethbo. I don't recall much of it however." He took a sip and recoiled somewhat. "*kaff* *kaff*". The amber liquid had flowed down his throat like a trickle of molten honey. The taste was reminiscent of mildly sweetened peat smoke, while his mouth felt as though it had been brushed with nettle.

"Ach! I should have warned you. It's uisge-beatha, from over the eastern sea. Go easy. It's meant to be taken very slowly." Pwyll took another small sip, followed by a long exhalation. It was obvious he relished the drink. "In answer to your question, Ailinne is to the east of here, on the road towards Cylidd and the Nethbo border. If the army went with speed to Nethbo you may have passed it at night. It's about a day and a half ride from here--more if the river's swollen. Unfortunately finding the auld place might be difficult. The land is hilly there, and there are many hidden dells."

Amlyn nodded thoughtfully, waiting for the sting to leave his nose and throat. "Hopefully some of the soldiers of the garrison will be familiar enough with that area to act as a guide. I will have to ask around," he finished. He debated with himself whether or not to return to the ale Swithen had poured him. But he had no wish to offend his host, so he took another bite of the liquid - a gentle sip. The effect was nowhere near as dramatic this time, although the heat now seemed to warm through his belly. The skin around his fingers tingled softly.

Pwyll stroked his beard thoughtfully. His recent visit with Feagh would probably bring some sort of reprisal, and it might be advantageous to become scarce for a few days. Ithel and Coch could hold down the fort, and the giant would be able to keep trouble away from the Swan. This just might be fortune knocking at his door. "Well. I did plan on traveling that way in search of some winter fishing. Perhaps I might be able act as your guide?"

"I have no objection if you wish to accompany us," answered Amlyn. "In fact I welcome it." He looked forward to the chance of getting to understand the outlander a little better, even if the circumstances were more unusual than normal. "I am gathering some men in the morning and with good fortune we may depart after noon tomorrow."

"It would be better sooner than later Grey Man. If it rains while we travel we might find ourselves waiting for the river level to drop or hiking through the mountains--neither of which I fancy this early in season. To safe journeys then." With that Pwyll raised his small cup. Amlyn returned the gesture, and both drank.

Amlyn placed the cup back onto the table. Only hours ago he had been forlorn and somewhat miserable, but his troubles had seemed to recede. Perhaps it was the alcohol. "My gratitude for your hospitality, Pwyll. I will send you word when we are ready."

"Well. If you'll excuse me, I must make a few preparations before I leave." Pwyll said as he rose. As Amlyn followed suit, Pwyll stretched out a hand and chuckled darkly. "It's an apt journey don't you think? This Dunn is a bastardization of Arawn. Who better than the Grey Man to met out justice?"

Amlyn's troubled manner returned. "I doubt that I am truly worthy to measure up to such legend. Infamy seems to be my path. But perhaps this is a step in a better direction that the way I have walked in the past." He did not wish to end on such a note, but the words just came forth without control. Instead of trying to explain, he simply bowed and moved away from the table, moving towards the door and entering the darkness of an infant morning like a disappearing ghost.

Pwyll watched him go. "Arawn did not always step straight either Grey Man," he said to himself. With that he turned and went to make preparations for his departure.

Jon was sitting in the his study when the door flew open. When two of his men came running, with a worried look on their faces. "Seth and Bronwen have run off the North together. To get married without her father's permission." They said simultaneously, and out of breath.

Jon came shooting out of the chair towards the two men.

They jumped back and coward with fear.

"WHAT!!!!" He howled. "How could you let this happen? Did you get any other information on this. "

"Y-Y-e-e-s-s" They stuttered.

"What is it." Jon said calmer.

"The bodyguard said he had insurance that they would not have to worry about you." One said standing up straight again.

"All right leave and wait outside the gates. I will send men to tell you what to do." He said sitting down into his chair.

The two men left closing the door behind them. He called to the servant. "Go get two of my commanders.

The servant left. A few moments later two of his commanders walked in. "You summoned us, milord?" The oldest one asked as they bowed.

"I need each of you to take 25 men and follow the two men at the gate. Tell them to take you to the princess. I want you to get her back here and away from Seth McCullen." Jon said calmly. He would not let this happen. "By what ever means is necessary." He said, making his point clearer.

"Yes, Milord." They said as they bowed and left.

Jon paced in his study. He had thought that her parents would watch her closer then this. He was interrupted when a page from the castle entered. Probably sent to tell him about the princess, Jon thought.

"Milord. I have a missive from Lord Alterian." The young man handed Jon the scroll.

Jon took the scroll and said thank you to the lad. He unrolled curiously. When he was done writing his face lit up with joy. "It must be about the Princess" He said quietly to him self. He called his servant again and told him to ready his horse. This was great. Seth my die and he may have another Lord on his side.

Sir Josiah Feirha left the castle at first light of the morning following the coronation. He saddled his own horse quickly and without fuss and rode out of the city. He wanted to attend to this business as soon as possible so that he could return to his new duties and responsibilities for his new king; his friend. A king needed loyal and capable knights, advisors and staff, but they also needed good friends. True friends - not the hordes of hangers-on who always crawled out of the woodwork to toady up to any monarch as a new chance to elevate themselves in society.

He travelled at a steady and comfortable trot that seemed to melt away the miles reaching *** by early afternoon. He took a minor detour to the north of the road, where he dismounted his horse and climbed up a rise in the ground. He knew this hillock from his childhood and so knew that it afforded a near-perfect bird's-eye view over the estate nestling in the lowlands to the south. A tear rolled down the priest-knight's cheek as he recalled old memories and still-fresh grief.

He mourned not only for his father who had died two months earlier, but also felt a renewed loss for his brother. At that thought the grief mixed seamlessly with regret. He wished he had had the courage to return home sooner and make his peace with his father while he was still alive. However, it was no small comfort that his mother still lived.

He had not been home since before he had been manipulated into killing his own brother so many years before. He had no reason to believe that his parents had even learned of the truth, and his disappearance had only doubled their loss that day. The moment he had realised what he had done the trauma had burned his past from his mind. It was only years later, from slow and careful treatment by the monks, that he had recovered his personality; at least as much of it that could survive such an ordeal. He should have returned then of course - made his confession, accepted his fate - but he had not had the strength.

The pain of grief and pull of duty, however, had strengthened his resolve and finally given him the courage.

--oOo---

[Late evening]

Feirha finally left his mother's chamber his face composed, and while it had seemed to suddenly accumulate several more lifetimes' worth of creases and lines it still radiated a peace that had not been present for a very long time.

"She sleeps now," he told the waiting Matthias, the estate's administrator. The touching concern and love was unmistakable even though his voice was heavy and tired.

"Very good master Josiah," replied the old administrator, his back still straight and strong despite his advanced age. It was not his place to be suspicious of the sudden appearance of his mistress' long lost, presumed dead, youngest son. He accepted the man as his new master without even the inkling of question.

The man had been like a second father to Feirha as a very young boy but there was an odd sort of coldness in the man now, despite his impeccable manners. It was understandable and the least to be expected. Time alone had distanced the two, not considering the other complications, and it would take a little more of the same to restore anything of that earlier relationship, even though Feirha knew it could never be fully healed.

"Come Matthias," he said warmly, "join me for a cup of wine."

"Maybe later sir," replied the man, "I have preparations to make for tomorrows market."

Feirha smiled, though his disappointment showed. "Of course. Please continue, I do not want to keep you from your duties."

"Thank you sir."

--oOo-

[Three days later, mid-morning]

Feirha kneeled and crossed himself in front of the small wooden altar, completing his prayer. It had been his father's and he had brought it with him back to the castle. He was still very much just going through the motions - his faith had taken a severe battering during recent events - but it felt better using such a familiar and sentimental focus.

The Priest-Knight then to find the king. He had heard of Hawk's latest loss on his return and that had been the subject of his prayer.

The morning after the coronation was a sorry state of affairs for many revellers. So it came as no surprise that Amlyn had to fish around for an hour or so to eventually locate the burly Northener. He was busily ogling wenches, from a good vantage point; a cup of ale in one hand, and a mischievous smile on his face. Quite a feat to be still up and enjoying the start of the second day of festivities after the coronation. From the description Amlyn had been given, it was indeed the tourney knight.

Stifling any second thoughts as to what he was doing, Amlyn cleared his throat and introduced himself. "Sir Jovis? My name is Amlyn." He thought briefly about stating his father's name as part of a formal introduction, but then he realised that he still couldn't bring himself to accept the undeniable. Shrugging off the disturbing implications, he remained silent for the moment, and waited for Jovis to gather his thoughts.

"Huh ?" said Jovis, then took on the awareness that someone was talking to him. The hazel eyes flicked over Amlyn; and hardened slightly with awareness, though the pleasant smile on Jovis' face stayed put. The Llydaw accent was always a giveaway. "Good day to you then, Amlyn. Or should I call you Chief High Druid or something ?" Civil, polite, and direct; perhaps Jovis remembered his vows for the chivalric ideal.

"Sir Amlyn would be fine," he responded. To Amlyn, Jovis looked a little bleary-eyed, a long night and the ale obviously to his liking. He wondered if he should come back later in the evening when Jovis would have had a chance to rest. "Does thou have a moment to talk?"

"Now's as good a time as any." said Jovis, who was just getting started on the day's entertainment. He forced a smile; this looked like work, not fun. But far be it for the Knight of Sapphire to turn down duty.

"An issue has arisen to the east, involving a group of worshippers of Donn. Apparently they have been raiding villages and killing or capturing people for their own rituals." Amlyn took a seat and shifted to face Jovis. "I am asking if thou would wish to assist me in taking care of this problem."

"Er, when ?" asked Jovis, thinking dreaded thoughts about, gasp, missing a Joust. He was always late for them, but he hadn't missed a tourney in years. "For well I know my duties to the Crown, and will not deny a royal order." In other words, if it's some personal agenda of Amlyn, he can go scratch. "What word has come out of the east, and what proof of the problem?"

"There is no royal order involved in this, Sir Jovis. And the only solid information I have is from a source I cannot name. But I have heard enough of the rumours being whispered about to become concerned." Amlyn held his hands out briefly in an open gesture. "And I've also heard you have come a fair way from Llydaw, a province I came from as well. Which is why I am asking you if you would wish to accompany me. I would be interested in any news from home that you may have." The word 'home' sounded hollow and empty to him. As dirty as a straight-faced lie.

"Oh," said Sir Jovis, as noncommittal as you please. "Source you can't name and rumours. I will have to plead an audience with the King, to see if he has any duties for myself; you understand that my first duty is to King and Country." WHEW ! He could stay for the Jousts ! He took a swallow of ale before answering the next questions. "Och Aye, I do come from Llydaw; but over a month ago. I get lost easily. It was much the same when I left; border squabbles, everyone waiting on Hallmote to air their grievances, and it raining on the sheep. I've not much head for politics." He looked at Amlyn with a quietly serious look. "And I do recall you, sir. I'm puzzled why you want me to come with you. I wear blue now, not black or sable."

I don't want you to come with me, he thought to himself. After his conversation with Nwython, the last rational thing on his mind had been to seek out Sir Jovis and try and get his help. The whole thing stunk, like fish left to rot in the sun. He had to know whether or not Jovis was a lackey of his old master, or a true man of the King. He had already spoken with Hawk after the night of the coronation, mentioning the Sect and gaining permission to investigate. However he had not asked about the Knight of the Crest of Sapphire, and indeed it seemed many others couldn't tell him much about the Northener either, apart from his apparent delight in attending tourney's. He also wasn't happy with his excuse for just 'getting lost', and his offhand account of events in Llydaw. And to top it all off, he seemed to recognise him. What was Jovis really doing here?

"What did you wear before?" said Amlyn in reply, working hard to not let his suspicion show. "You were not one of my men."

"That's right, and now I'm the King's man." said Jovis with slow surety. "And this isn't Llydaw. If you're wanting help from me, you'll have to make your meanings plain, and tell me more about what you mean to do, back east. And it has to go along with what the King would have me do." Jovis would give Amlyn a chance; but it would be a watchful one.

Amlyn thought for a moment. "I would not presume to rely on past loyalties, Sir." He had a gut feeling that Jovis hadn't seen much fighting in that battle anyhow, which would put him in a family of the nobility of Llydaw. Probably one of those who called for an early end and negotiation. A group Amlyn had ignored from an early stage. "And I cannot tell you any more about what is happening to the east, because I do not know yet myself. Hardly anyone does. But..." he stood up and briefly bowed. "...if you see fit to change your mind, maybe after your 'success' in the tourney, then I will leave directions. Perhaps, if I find out more, I will relay it back. Far be it from me to distract you from more... important tasks."

"The King's tasks are always important." said Jovis, "But personal agendas of other men, much less so." Without the King behind Amlyn giving directions, Jovis wasn't about to give up his tourney. The prizes were what kept Jovis in armour, horse, and food; his father's land was rich in sheep and rocks, and that was about it. He remembered Amlyn from when he was just a stripling squire; the fighting was ending by and large by the time he got his spurs, but no one in Llydaw would forget sable and black, and what had happened. It made anything Amlyn wanted him to do, subject to careful scrutiny; if the devil asks you to go on a mission, it's best to think about it before you say 'yes'. Well, anyway, he'd go into the games and do his damndest; that was why he was here.

Personal agenda or not, Amlyn realised that there would be no convincing him to go. Which he understood in a way. Were he in his shoes, and knowing what he had done in the past, he would not go either. Perhaps it was better this way. "Farewell," he said. Jovis raised his ale and just smiled. As Amlyn walked away he breathed a small sigh of relief. Time to finally gather up some men and depart.

...So it came to pass that both men went their seperate ways... for the moment. One suspicious of the other's real purpose in being in Abertawe, and the other wary of what a renown butcher would be really asking of them. Such was the demise of Llydaw, whereby knights of black rebelled against the sable of the armies of Llydaw, to continue a campaign of eight years to a bitter and costly end: defeat at the hands of the province of Dinodig. Llydaw had turned against itself in battle at the worst possible time, triggered by resentment and the manipulation of others outside their conflict, though the latter not known to many. Mistrust does not fade with distance OR time...

Isa entered her son's chambers. The guard let her in after confirming that the King had not eaten nor left his chambers since finding his mistress dead. The healer had confirmed that Audrey had been killed and by now, she was sure that Hawk knew it. Her husband was at a loss as to how to help the boy through a second devastating loss. The room was dark and cold. His tray untouched upon the table.

Her son sat staring into the embers of the fire that had burned low. She moved to him and knelt down, taking his hand. "Son?" She said softly.

Hawk did not reply. He had not said a word after Audrey had been taken from him. They had held him while they took the body away, and then he had ranted and cursed. But now he just sat in his own room, he didn't want the world, he didn't want anything.

"Hawk. You must eat. Rhys needs his father. Do not take that from him now." Isa chided but gently. "Now that he knows he has one, it will devestate him if you are not here for him."

"You and father have always been his parents. He will not miss me. I will leave in the morning. All I bring is death." His voice sounded dead and emotionless, and he did not look at his mother.

Isa did not know what else to do. She slapped her son for the first time in many years. "How dare you think to desert us with your responsibilities yet again." Her words were harsh but consoling was not working. "I raised you better then that." Her eyes filled with tears of both fear and frustration. She knew that if Hawk left, he would never return. "What if this murderer turns his eye on your son or sister?"

He stared at his mother, he had not seen this one coming. "If I am not here, they have no reason to kill them. Audrey was killed because of me, do you understand that. It's like I strangled her with my own hands." He stared at his hands and then began to cry. "I only wanted to be happy."

"Audrey was killed for nefarious reasons. If you leave, your son is next in line for the throne, do you think he will then be safe? If you leave, the murderer runs unchecked. Instead of city here sorry for yourself, be the King you were raised to be and find this man." Her resolve crumbled at the look in his eyes and she pulled her grown son close. "Why is it that your father and I cannot protect you all better?" She sighed with grief.

"Mother, I don't want it anymore. She gave me back my life, with Audrey I could be happy again. I have nothing left to live for. Rhys hardly knows me, he won't miss me. I will ask father to be king. I don't want to live anymore, Mother." Yet he crawled closer to her, and held onto her like a little boy.

"This pain will pass. I know you do not believe me but it will. What would she want you to do? Do you think she worked so hard with you to have you throw that life away?" Isa asked in a whisper as she stroked his head. "If she could have spoken a last wish what would it have been?" Isa had spoken enough with Audrey to know she would not want Hawk to kill himself.

Hawk felt exhausted, he hardly knew what his mother was saying. All he could think about was Audrey, his lovely Audrey, the second woman that had left him by dying. He just clung to his mother, and then closed his eyes for a second.

Isa just held him there in the firelight. Mother and son sharing grief and solitude. There was not much more she could say. The rest was up to Hawk.

Iorwerth had called some people together. He was very worried about his son, the King. Three years ago he yet seen Hawk in the same situation when his wife died. And the boy had not handled that very well. In fact then he had come very close to killing himself. Iorwerth was worried that he would do so again now. That is why he chose to talk to Lord Alterian and the head of Hawk's bodyguard.

"Come in, gentlemen." He said and then started to pace again. "Gentlemen, I have called you here to talk about my son. I am worried about him, and I need your help to keep an eye on him."

"Keep an eye on him, milord?" Alterian knew Hawk was already guarded day and night.

Vaughan stood arms crossed with a severe expression on his face as Alterian spoke. When the Chamberlain had finished, Vaughan answered in a grave voice, "It will be difficult m'lord. To say that he cares about his 'privacy' would be akin to saying a starving man cares about food. I'm sure he'd rather see us gone than to have men around him at all times. Although I've asked for an additional four men from Llywarch, I wouldn't surprised if he dismisses the lot of us before he dies."

"Exactly, my lord Alterian. My son is wily. He hates body guards around him, and he will try to send them away, I know that he does not allow them in his private quarters." The pain was obvious in his eyes. "I do not want to lose the boy." He whispered. "I am still the head off the family, King or not, I give you permission to disregard his wishes on privacy. Just keep him safe."

Alterian nodded. "You think the King will harm himself?"

"I am afraid that he might." Iorwerth said sadly.

"With respect m'lord, ignoring his wishes on privacy will do nothing to protect him from himself. A distraction probably serve better," Vaughan remarked.

"My wife and I cannot think of anything to distract him right now. He is so submerged in grief, but if you know anything." The general sounded faintly hopeful now.

The Captain of the hounds stroked his short beard in a thoughtful expression. "If the King were of my people he might, after a suitable period of mourning, be dragged along on a great hunt, an embassy, a pilgrimage, even a war. But the King is not of my people, and I am unsure of your customs."

Alterian stroked his beard. "Obviously this woman deeply affected him. He must be made to see that his loss would affect those around him just as deeply. Perhaps the Queen mother could see to this?"

"She will try." Iorwerth said. "But it did not do any good when his wife died. Nothing we said could reach him then. We nearly lost him, we did not hear from him for two years, nobody did. We thought he had died. I do not think my wife could live through that again."

Vaughan said nothing. It seemed quite hopeless to him.

Alterian forced a smile. "He is a man now, not a fledgling. I think you will see that he has greater strength within then many perceive. His heart is large and will make for a good ruler, but we now see the drawback of a man who can care so deeply.

Iorwerth was not so sure. He was proud that people had so much faith in his son, but these men had not seen hawk at the time when his wife died, they had not seen the depth of despair. And then he remembered his own brother who had died of a broken heart after his daughter had gone missing. No, iorwerth was afraid, very afraid, and he did not know how to solve it.

Noting the Lord's silence, Alterian continued. "We will watch him as we can milord. But ultimately the choice is his."

It was a beautiful day. Azure skies were punctuated only by the passing of the occasional puffy white cloud and a flock of migratory birds. The air was still and cold, but the sun held a deep warmth that worked it's way through all that it touched. Lush green grass covered the clearing from one side to the other, melding into the trees seamlessly. Like a broken scar on smooth, perfect skin, a long and narrow trench sliced it's way into the picturesque scene, dug ten feet into the ground and partially filled at one end.

Regardless of the risk, Nia crouched alongside the hole in the open, and stared down into it's unspeakable depths. Faces of strangers, men, women, boys, girls, clothed and naked, all drained and gray with the palour of death. Despite the horror, she had eyes for one face alone, and in it's recognition her spirit had been crushed.

"...Elad..."

Figures moved through the trees towards her, but she was oblivious to all.

***

"Milord!" called a grizzled voice. "May I speak with you?"

Amlyn stopped and turned to look at the advancing soldier. The man who saluted him appeared to be in his early forties, with muddy brown hair to match the murky colour of his eyes and a deeply scarred and pitted section of his right cheek. "My name is Marchlew sir, sergeant of one of the king's ranks of spearman. I have heard that you are looking to gather some men for a journey to Ailinne?"

"Aye, you would be correct. Although I am taking only cavalry for this task." Amlyn did not bother to ask the reason for Marchlew's interest, as his meeting with Jovis had left him still in a sour mood. "Good day to you," he said, making it clear that the brief meeting was finished.

"Ah... milord, perhaps if I may impose on you a moment longer?" For some reason he sounded cautious instead of insistent. He still kept his tight 'at attention' stance.

Amlyn strangled back a rebuke. It was normally never his manner to snap at anyone, regardless of the circumstances. The last few days of revelations had been most trying to his sense of self. "Yes?" he said, resigned to the interuption.

"Your reputation has preceeded you, sir. Many of the soldiers in the city will not have anything to do with you. That Order that was here spread the word pretty well, and to be honest many people believe it true since you went out and killed all bar one of them. No mean feat with only one arm and all, but its gotten a lot of them thinking bad things." He dished it out upfront and honest, and didn't hold back. "You may get your men, sir, but I doubt any of them will be keen and ready to lay their lives on the line when it comes down to a fight."

Surprisingly enough, his appraisal seemed to make sense, and was something Amlyn hadn't considered. Jovis was forgotten instantly, as he focussed on this new problem. "What do you suggest then, sergeant?" he replied, inviting him to make his point.

"Sir, I've asked around and I've managed to find about twenty men who would be, uh, honoured to serve under your command. Most of them aren't too bad on the back of a horse, so it won't be no problem to get where you wish to go. Just say the word and I'll round them up, quick as ye can say the words."

Amlyn pursed his lips briefly. "Why?"

"Huh? Er... Sorry, begging your pardon sir?"

"Why. What have I done to earn the respect of a few while losing the faith of many?"

"Uh..." Marchlew ground his teeth together. "To be honest sir-"

"Thats all I expect."

"- well, it's a variety of reasons. Some of them remember you from Tamith, while others happened to be watching when you took it up the Order. I guess most of the men who want to go are a pretty hard bunch. A few got discipline problems and others are a bit too keen for the fighting, if you know what I mean... But we all tend to agree that Nethbo got off pretty light, and you were pretty vicious in action, not taking any prisoners or wasting any time..."

"So you're saying I'm admired by a bunch of bloodthirsty misfits."

Marchlew looked embarrassed, but reluctantly nodded. "Aye sir."

Amlyn felt sick. He had no memory of either fight, but it was clear he had won little in the way of honour from either. He had no desire to be dragged into leading a bunch of murderers, but then he remembered that he had probably earnt himself a reputation of being no better. And he needed men willing to fight, and willing to take orders, for he still lacked the urge to shed any more blood again. If he was even capable of doing so. "Alright," he said, giving in. "If you can all find a mount and be ready within two hours, we will leave. Give me a list of names and I'll make sure their commanders are made aware of their absence."

"Yessir!" Marchlew snapped a salute and stormed off.

Amlyn glanced out of the window helplessly. Winds of ice pushed clouds of gray foreboding across the sky, promising hard and difficult times ahead. As if in sympathy, the stump of his arm ached, to remind him of past folly and future consequences. He had looked forward to being well enough to travel once again. But this was definately not the moment he had been waiting in anticipation for.

***

There were changes elsewhere. Only the people who had survived in the darkest parts of the city for many years had recognised one particular event. And it was all the more remarkable, for the building in question had been a home for a part of the criminal stock of Alban's people for some time.

The flour mill had long ago been abandoned, being too small to suit the needs of a growing city, and too old to be maintained in working order. Heavy disrepair over the past few years had resulted in much of it's internal structure collapsing. People with hard habits and dangerous past-times then took it over for their own means, but one night that changed. They all vanished.

The next morning, the front door had been bolted, the windows shuttered with new planks of timber and the holes in the outer walls hastily patched. There was no clue as to what had occurred, except for a teak panel, mounted to the left hand side of the main door. Inlaid into the timber, was a brass tau cross.

***

"It appears that things are moving..." Nwython tapped his fingers slowly on the wooden arm of his chair.

"Yes, your Grace," replied Tyngyr, bowing with a flourish. "The Raven has arrived in Alban and she has already set about applying her influence to the royalty. The King's mistress has been murdered in curious coincidence, and from all reports he is not taking it well. The Sect continues to do as it wishes and the Archdruid seems reluctant to take any decisive step against it. Lady Lleucu has left with the mercenary leader for Nethbo, while Nethbo itself is in turmoil, it's nobles split into two factions on a path to civil war."

"What about Amlyn?"

Tyngyr pondered for a moment. "He is almost ready to depart. The weather may prove hazardous, but that will not stop them."

"Hmmm." As an afterthought, he asked, "Have you seen that insane fool recently?"

Tyngyr looked confused.

"Discord."

"No, your Grace. He has been gone since the day before the coronation."

He must know something I do not, thought Nwython. "No matter. If he turns up again, let me know. In the meantime, keep an eye on court as always."

"As you wish." Tyngyr turned to leave.

"Oh. One last thing."

"Yes, your grace?" Tyngyr paused at the doorway.

"Get rid of that ridiculous scarf."

Somewhat abashed, Tyngyr slowly pulled the rusty orange fabric down from around his neck as he left the room. The man has no understanding of fashion, he thought critically to himself.

Gwilym slowly began to stir in the road. As he used his arms to try and get up, pain shot up through his head. Gwilym laid back down but rolled over onto his back. He put his hand to the back of his head and felt blood. He slowly sat up and focused his eyes on his surroundings. 'What had happened' he thought to himself as he saw the scene in the road.

Gwilym tried to remember … An arrow flew through the air straight into Michael's neck. Then he heard the scream, "Gwilym has led them to us, kill them all!" … Why would they say that? Someone was setting him up, but why? He didn't have any enemies; he had only just gotten into town. Why would they want us dead? The children, of course! Gwilym fought the pain and finally made it to his feet. Someone wanted the children dead. Some how, the opposition to the king of Nethbo found out what was happening and sent men to have them killed. Was that possible? The plans were only made three days ago. That couldn't be enough time to put together a raiding group from Nethbo and get them here to intercept us… unless some of the opposition sat here in Abertawe.

Gwilym glanced around the battle scene. He saw Michael with the pierced neck. A little ways off he saw Jerad with a huge hole in his chest. The carts were still in the area. Gwilym also spotted a grave site and stumbled over to take a closer look. The words – Father Niddian – were spelled out with small stones atop the mound with a cross at the front of the site, the symbol of the one god. He also saw quite a few bodies of the attackers. Gwilym investigated the bodies and found nothing to tie them all together. 'Maybe the others got away with the children' Gwilym thought. It was very possible because there appeared to be about ten bodies lying about who must have been with the attackers.

Gwilym began looking for more signs of the children when he heard riders approaching. He walked forward to meet them as the front man brought them to a halt.

Eli Coulte surveyed the surrounding battle scene and then looked at Gwilym, "I don't suppose you could tell me what has occurred here, do you." Eli squinted his eyes and looked straight through Gwilym.

"Aye, we were ambushed. I couldn't say how many. As the battle began, I was hit in the back of the head and knocked unconscious. It appears as though the children …." Eli cut him off.

"I can SEE how it appears, I don't need your explanations. Who are you?" Eli was stern. He had his orders.

"I am Gwilym. I was in charge of …." Eli cut him off again.

"You're coming with me, now. Save your reasoning for Alterian. Unless you wish to put up a fight." Eli's face was hard. He didn't really want to hurt Gwiylm. Alterian just said to bring him in. Gwilym wasn't exactly charged with anything.

Gwilym sighed, "OK, let's go."

Eli turned his horse around while he spoke to the others, "Put him on a horse with some one," then rode towards the castle. A guard came up to Gwilym and extended his hand. Gwilym took it and was hoisted up behind the guard on the horse and took off after the patrol.

They rode hard and made the castle by dusk. Eli wasted no time. As he strode over towards Gwilym, Eli spoke to one of the guards, "Get Master Alterian, Now!" Eli helped pull Gwilym from the horse. Gwilym was dazed from blood loss and could barely stand. Eli looked towards another guard, "Go and get a healer for this man," Then he helped Gwilym to sit.

*****

Alterian was inside his office finishing his day's work when the guard appeared. "Master Alterian, We have Gwilym out front." The guard stood straight as a board and awaited Alterian's response.

"You were supposed to make a report, not pull him off his duty! Are ye daft?" Alterian's face flushed with anger.

"But, sir, he was found on the road side, alone, with signs of a battle all around. There were no children in sight. You said to bring back Gwilym if something looked amiss." The guard came back to attention once he was done talking.

Alterian's face colored even more. "Bring him in." He ordered. He sent a page to fetch the King.

Eli Coulte brought Gwilym into Alterian's office. Gwilym was conscious enough but still light headed from blood loss. The gash was apparent from behind Gwilym's head and would require stitches; also, dried blood was visible all along the back of his vestment. Gwilym looked up at Alterian.

Alterian walked up. It was clear that fury simmered in his eyes. "Explain this!" He tossed the scroll with the note to Gwilym.

Gwilym caught the scroll, opened it, and read the note. His eyes filled with horror as his mind covered each word, "Sir, I did not write this. I've never seen this before now." Someone had betrayed him, but why? His mind scrambled to draw reason at the mess that lay before him. "The attackers … they … they had said 'Gwilym has led them to us, kill them all'. I am being framed! If I was to kill the children, then where are they? Seth was there. I never laid a hand on a single one of them." Gwilym's eyes spoke volumes of innocence, but the evidence might prove otherwise.

"You tell me. Why would someone set you up? Why should I believe anything? I trusted you even though you were newly come to our lands. Perhaps that is my mistake." Alterain walked up to the man. "The King is on his way, you had better figure something out because if you did this thing, you are a dead man. If you did not, we will soon be at war with Nethbo unless it is resolved satisfactorily."

Gwilym fell to his knees partly from exhaustion and partly from the weight of Alterian's last statement. Gwilym had hoped to meet the king but not under these conditions. In Mor Hafren, King Lystan would have beheaded a man from the facts at hand and apologized later to the family if the man was found innocent. Gwilym prayed mentally to his family 'To my beloved, I come to you soon, disgrace in my blood, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, father. I let you down as a son and a knight. Mother, I failed to serve the innocent as you taught me, please forgive me. If the gods favor then send angels over me to guide and protect me. I wish to prove my innocence before my death.' His eyes closed, Gwilym awaited the arrival of the king.

Hawk steps into the room, he was taken aback by the unfamiliar knight on his knees in front off Ian. But he kept his face impassive. "My lord" he turned to Ian. "Would you enlighten me to what is going on here? Who is this man?" Ian did not mince words. He spelled out what had happened and that this was the knight that the King's mother had put in charge of the children. He gave Hawk the note and waited for the King's response. Hawk turned towards the kneeling man. "What do you have to say in your defense." He would not condemn a man before hearing him.

Gwilym stayed on the ground and faced his new king, "Milord, I can not answer what truly happened for we were hit by an ambush. I was knocked from my horse with a hit to the back of my head," he turned slightly to show the gash just above his neck line, "and when I awoke, guards were there to bring me to Master Alterian. I could not find a sign of the children other than they were not amongst the dead. A grave sight was on the side of the road indicating the children possibly were not captured and may be on the run. A few of the guards were dead as well as ten men I had never seen before most likely the men who ambushed us. I found no sign of Dame Quarra, Avalynn, or Reys, her companion. I assume I was left for dead and they needed to flee in a hurry" Gwilym paused a moment to let his first part sink in. "I have never seen that note before, Milord. I swear to you that I never wrote it. I believe I am being set up. The men who attacked us shouted, 'Gwilym has brought them to us, kill them all!' Given the chance, I will end my life trying to find them, Sire." Gwilym removed his sheathed claymore from his back and let the hilt face the king, "But I know I have failed you and my life is yours." Gwilym bowed his head and awaited his fate.

Ian said nothing. The choice was now Hawk's. Hawk had barely left his rooms since the death of his consort. His moods were unpredictable and it was possible that the man's life would be ended right here in his office.

Hawk took the huge sword, and unsheated it. He felt the powerful weapon in his hands, and the murderers rage, the need to do something, to vent his own anger. It was possible that this man was a cold blooded murderer, and he deserved to die. How easy was it, one stroke, one stroke and he would feel better for having done something, but he would not kill a man who was defenseless. "Look at me." He commanded as he held the sword ready.

Gwilym looked up to meet the king's eyes. He saw anger in them. With watery eyes he held his gaze to the king as he was commanded. 'Here I come my love' and waited for the swift stroke of death.

…and then Hawk could not do it anymore, he didn't see guilt in those eyes, just complete trust that he would do the right thing. The sword fell to the ground, and hawk was left shaking. How close he had come to actually killing. "I am going to let you go. You return my knights and those children to me unharmed, and you will be validated. If not you will be hunted down as a criminal and killed." With that he turned around and walked away, disgusted by himself.

Gwilym almost fell completely to the ground as the king departed. He placed his claymore back in his sheath and slung it around his back. Legs shaking, he managed to get to his feet. "Master Alterian, I'll fix this. I don't think you'll trust me in the meantime and I understand. But I swear on my family's graves, I'll fix this … and then I'll seek revenge." Gwilym paused a moment to see if there was something Alterian wanted to add.

Alterian was shaking as well. The King still reigned but only by a tenous hold was clear. He turned to Eli Coulte. "Get him to a healer and supply him with what he needs. He is to be under guard until the healer gives him permission to depart."

Alterian turned to Gwilym. "Trust is given freely often but once lost, must be earned. You said you could protect these children and if you were not responsible, you still may have failed your oath. I do not wish to see you again if it is not made right. Send word if you find them." Alterian nodded and Eli motioned with a sword for the knight to proceed him.

Rowena knocked lightly but heard no answer. She opened the door to see her brother and King sitting in front of the fireplace. She moved to where he was and settled at his knee. She did not say anything, merely placed her head upon his knee.

Hawk had drunk some mead, but he was not too far gone to recognize his little sister. She was only a child, and she was the only one for whom he was willing to try. So he placed his hand on her tiny head. "What is it, sweetling, Can't you sleep?" He said gently.

"No.. What if the man who killed Lady Audrey is still here? What if my guard goes to sleep? Lady Audrey had a guard?" Rowena looked up at him with deep concern. "I heard Da say you might leave, but you promised me?"

"Your guards will not go to sleep, and I have doubled them, I do not want anything to happen to you, little one. But if you do not feel safe you can sleep with me tonight, or with dad if you prefer that." He hoped that this excited her enough to forget her second question.

"I want to stay with you." She said crawling into his lap. She was afraid if she left him, he would leave and break his promise. She knew a King should not break promises.

"Then you shall stay with me tonight. And young lady, I think it is your bed time, come I will bring you to bed. What is your ritual?" He asked gently, it was a distraction to him to take care of his little sister.

"A story, you have to tell me a story." She said with a smile. She didn't often get bedtime stories anymore, after all, she was almost out of the nursery completely. But if her brother did not know that, who was she to tell him.

Hawk smiled a sad smile. "Fine, you change for bed without complaints, and you will get your story. Tell me which one is your favorite." He moved over to the bed and made sure that it was warm enough for her. He would be able to keep an eye on her from his seat by the fireplace.

Rowena nodded. "I will be right back." She hurried off, flanked by the two irritating guards. She changed and put on a robe and scurried back to his chambers. She burst into the room in a flurry of cloth and hair. "I am back. Did I take to long?" She eyed him anxiously, not wanting him to be out of temper with her.

"No, you were very fast." He said, now hop into bed, I think it is nice and warm for you. And tell me which story you want to hear." He went to find a chair so he could sit next to the bed.

"Tell me one that Mama told you when you were my age. One that was your favorite?" She said snuggling into the big bed.

"Let's see. I think that was the one about the princess who fell in love." He settled in his chair, and began the story. He kept his voice as merry as possible, and hoped that she would fall asleep soon.

Hawk's voice slowly lulled Rowena to sleep. She lay in his big bed, small and Helpless. Her dreams of brave knights and fair ladies.

After she slept, hawk returned to his seat by the fire. He had a lot to think about. It would be best for her if he left, yet it would break his hard to do so. To let her down. Hawk got up and began to pace.

Dreams began to trouble Rowena. She tossed and turned in her bed. Suddenly, she sat up screaming, her cries interrupting the King's morbid thoughts.

Hawk went over to the bed, concerned for his little sister. He sat down next to her, and gathered her in his arms. "It is all right, little one. Nobody is going to hurt you."

Rowena clung to Hawk trembling. "She is here." She sobbed.

"Who is here, honey." He said gently.

"The Raven." She shivered against him. "She is going to take me away."

"Of course not. You are being well guarded. Here in the castle you are safe." He held her close. "I will not let anything happen to you."

"If you leave, there will be no one to protect me?" She sobbed. She could feel it in him, the longing to go away.

"Sweetheart." How did he explain to the little girl that he didn't want to go on living anymore, how could she understand? Yet seeing her anguish, he knew that he could not leave her alone, he just couldn't. "Tell you what, I will stay as long as you need me, I promise you that, how does that sound?"

"What if I always need you?" She asked carefully. Rowena was not a stupid child. She knew that if just needing him would keep him here, then she would make sure she always needed him.

"You will not always need me. When you grow up, you will fall in love, and have a protector of your own." He paused for a moment, if he made a promise now he could not break it. "But I will promise that I will stay around until that moment."

It would have to do. "Okay," she snuggled closer to him. "I am glad you are my brother and my King.:"

"I am glad that you are my sister." He said. "Now go back to sleep, don't worry, I am here to protect you."

Alterian was pleased to see Sanglant. He seemed the most likely one to solve the lady's problem. "Good day to you, Earl. I am glad could make it. I have a problem that requires your special contacts."

Yes, I know that is why I came with such haste." Jon said eagerly. "What are your plans?" He asked. Jon was pleased that Alterian trusted him with a delicate situation such as the Princess' elopement.

"Well, I thought that I would introduce you to the Lady and let her tell you what her needs are. Then the two of you can go from there." Alterian said, relieved to have done with this Lady Morgan's housing issues.

"She has come back, and why to you. I thought she would go to her parents." Jon asked confused. Why would she go to Alterian? Jon thought.

"Come back, she just got here. We are talking about the Lady Morgan, aren't we?" Alterian asked.

"What, Lady Morgan. I thought you called me about the Princess." Jon said.

"The Princess, what is wrong with the Princess?" Alterian was totally confused.

"She has run away with her bodyguard Seth McCullen. You didn't know. Lord Iowerth has given them the money to go elope?" Jon answered.

"He would not do that." Stated Alterian. "I will, however, look into the matter. IN the meantime, I was speaking of Lady Morgan who wishes to find an estate for sale in the area. I thought you the best man to help her."

"Ahhh, you have called the right man for that situation." Jon said calmly. He smiled inwardly, he had to give the princess credit if the staff did not yet know.

"Well, yes, come this way and I will introduce you to the lady and check on this matter with the Princess." He led Jon into the parlor where a lady stood as they entered. She had long golden hair. Her dress was of the deepest blue and trimmed in silver. Her voice was musical when she spoke.

"You must be Lord Sanglet." she said with a smile and held out her hand.

"You must be the lovely Lady Morgan." He said flirtatiously after kissing her hand. She was breath taking. Jon wondered if she would be so easy to win over.

"Well now, I will leave you two to discuss what you need. The lady's maid can act as chaperone." Alterian hurried off to see about the princess.

Morgan sat down. "I need an estate. Lord Alterian thought you might be aware of one that might be induced to sell."

"I have one in mind. I will see what I can do, but first we must talk payment." Jon said.

"Payment? I do not know the price of the estate?" Morgan answered Innocently.

"No no, the payment for my services." Jon said slyly.

"Oh, well I will gladly pay you a retainer if that is your wish." She said with a soft smile.

"Exactly what kind of retainer are you talking about." Jon said with a smile.

"Well I don't know. 1 gold in 20 of the cost?" She looked confused and uncertain.

"I would just be happy with time in your company my lady." Jon said with a smile.

Morgan smiled knowing immediately what manner of man was before her. "I am uncertain, what would people say if I were to much in your company milord? An unprotected young widow must safe gaurd her reputation." Her words were sweetly spoken.

"They would say you have made a wise decision." Jon said still smiling.

She had to laugh at that. "I would be honored to sup with you or to ride milord. But first you must find me a home. For my father taught me never to make payment until a service is rendered."

"He is a smart man then. Very well I will get right on it. Do you have a home untill then?" he asked curiosly.

"I am staying at The Swan, your grace." She took a sip of her warm tea.

Would you like to come to my Easate untill I can arrange otherwise." He asked gallantly.

"I think not. I think my virtue is safer at the Swan." She teased.

"Are you sure. Those commoners are not courtly as some others. At least let me send you some company." He said.

"I have my maid and you will just have to be swift in your task." She said with a laugh.

"I guess I must if you won't take any more help. Well then I must go and get that estate ready shan't I. He said with a laugh.

"I appreciate your diligence." She said with a soft smile. She stood and held out her hand in dismissal.

Jon kissed her on the hand and said. "Good day milady I will be back." Then he turned and headed out of the chamber. What a fetching vision, he thought. Perhaps Bronwen's defection would be a boon in disguise.