So, I'm breaking my own rules and posting this chapter early. I'm in the midst of writing chapter V, and it's proving a little difficult, so don't expect such a quick update after this chapter. I just couldn't wait to post any longer.

If you enjoy listening to music while reading, I highly recommend Mumford and Sons for this story. I listen to them constantly while I write each chapter, and their song "White Blank Page" is my Lancelot's theme song.

Chapter IV

Giuliana lay wide awake in her bed, sleep far from her grasp. She did not know what time it was, but she guessed early morning. Long ago Marcus had stopped trying to coax her out of her room, wanting to talk to her, wanting her to tell him what had happened. But telling Marcus about her argument with Raul would mean telling him about why she had quit working with Thaddeus, and that admission came with a shame she could not bear. She shivered despite her warm blanket as she remembered the feel of Raul's hot breath on her neck as he threatened her, only hours ago. In the tailor shop she had always shown him cheek, unafraid of his response with customers always surrounding them, but when alone with him, Raul was truly frightening.

"You owe your master, girl," he had whispered into her ear, holding her body close to his.

She had tried to break free, but he was too strong. "I am no slave, I owe him nothing."

Raul had laughed in her face. "Have you forgotten your father's debts so easily?"

Finally she had wriggled one arm free just enough so that she could elbow him in the gut. The blow was not terribly strong, but it shocked Raul enough that he let go of his hold on her, and she quickly fled to the entrance of the alley. But he was quick to follow her, reaching out to grab her once more. It was then that, by the grace of God, Lancelot had appeared. Giuliana always felt safer when the knights were around. The men were a little rough around the edges, and she had heard frightening stories of their Sarmartian home, but they exuded such confidence and honor that she could not help but to feel secure in their presence.

As Lancelot led her home, a part of Giuliana wanted to tell him everything. Of the things Thaddeus had done to her, of Raul's threats, perhaps even of her scarred childhood, but the notion made her feel like a weak little girl, something she never wanted to be again, so she held her tongue. Yet the knight kept prodding for information, and with each question her longing to open up grew, so she lashed out at him and became cold. She knew it was unfair, but no one needed the burden of the demons that haunted Giuliana.

Her guilt was increased when she heard Lancelot and Marcus talking. Frustration was evident in Lancelot's voice, and sorrow in Marcus'. She knew her brother only wanted to help her, but she refused to allow Marcus to feel the weight of her pain. Her brother was the most pure and noble soul she knew, and he had always been her protector. Protecting him from her burdens was her way of repaying him, but she knew he would disagree if she told him this. He had been so patient with her over the past two years, as things at Thaddeus' shop grew steadily worse and worse. He had been even kinder to her these past weeks as she quit her seamstress job, and looked for other work. He was silent when she told him she had taken a job at the tavern, the only visible sign of his disapproval was the look in his eyes. He softened slightly when she explained Vanora was allowing her to perform only some of the tasks of a tavern wench, and the work she didn't do would be made up by occasionally watching the woman's many children.

An hour before the Sun's first light began peeking over the horizon, a fretful sleep finally overtook Giuliana's troubled mind.

Lancelot's blade clanged as it met Galahad's, the metal of each sword shining violently in the sunlight. The knights had been practicing all morning, taking advantage of the cool breeze and bright sunshine.

The men had rejoiced at the fair weather, but Tristran, always the one to point out what might go wrong, said he did not trust it to stay long, and warned of a storm by noon. Galahad had groaned and chastised the scout for always being negative, to which Tristran childishly responded he wasn't, and the two bickered until Gawain finally knocked Galahad over the head. Lancelot heard him mutter he would have hit Tristran too, but he was sure to retaliate unfairly. Galahad, on the other hand, was used to Gawain's brotherly abuse.

Not long after Lancelot had begun his spar with Galahad, the rain began to fall. All of the knights complained at the sudden change in weather, while Dagonet reminded them it would be practical to practice in the rain. They ignored him, and he quickly silenced the suggestion, not wanting to be out in the rain any more than his brothers.

Before returning to his quarters to dry off and change his clothes, Lancelot stopped by the stables to check on his horse and make sure she had been well cared for after her journey.

"Come to check on Elvire, Lancelot?" Marcus greeted.

"You know me well," he replied. Every stable hand knew well that Lancelot constantly checked on the care of his beloved mare, and that if she was neglected in even the slightest, the person to blame would get a thorough lecture on the proper care and respect of animals from the knight.

"My best boys have cared for her today," Marcus informed him as he followed Lancelot to Elvire's stall. "She was re-shoed and given a good bath and brushing."

Lancelot stroked his mare's nose, getting an affectionate nip in return. "Thank you, Marcus. She looks well."

Marcus nodded in acknowledgement, watching the knight and his horse. It never ceased to amaze the stable master the reverence with which Sarmatians regarded their horses. He had heard rumors that Sarmatians believed horses held the souls of deceased warriors, but he himself had never asked one of the knights directly about the legend.

"How is Giuliana?"

The question surprised Marcus, but he answered truthfully, "I cannot be sure. I have not seen her today, except to look in on her while she was still sleeping. She no longer tells me of what troubles her."

"I do not know your sister intimately, but she seems changed to me," Lancelot said. "Tell me, why did she quit her job as a seamstress?"

"I could not say, she has refused to inform me of her reasons. I worry for her."

Lancelot clapped the other man on the shoulder, "You are a good brother to her, Marcus. I can only hope I would have cared half as much for my sister if I had stayed in Sarmatia as you do for Giuliana."

Their conversation was cut short when a stable boy called for Marcus. The man bid Lancelot good bye, then rushed off to whatever matter he was needed for. Lancelot stayed in the stable for a few minutes more before leaving himself.

The rain was coming down hard now, but Giuliana resolutely pulled her hood over her head and stepped out into the streets. Few people were also outside, and they all were rushing about, trying to get home and find shelter. Giuliana dashed through the streets, avoiding puddles and holding her cloak close. The church was not far from her home, but her dark curls were soaked and her hem muddy when she arrived.

"Gracious, child, you look like a wild thing," Father Delroy exclaimed as she hung her cloak near the door.

"I am sorry for my appearance, Father," Giuliana apologized with a small smile.

"Nonsense. God welcomes his children no matter what they look like. What brings you here today, my dear?"

"I – I just needed to pray, Father."

"Then come, light a candle and sit in silence with the Lord. He will hear you."

"Thank you."

Giuliana felt slightly foolish as she walked to the front of the small parish and lit a candle, kneeling before its light. She knew God heard her prayers just as well at home as he did in the church, and she chided herself for coming here. A part of her wanted to return home, but Father Delroy was so kind to accept her into this place of worship dripping with rain water and smelling like a wet dog that she felt it would be rude to leave so suddenly.

Sitting on the old wood floor of the chapel, with the light of so many prayer candles around her, Giuliana began to relax. The warmth of the building's fireplaces seeped into her skin, the scent of incense filled her nose. She felt so at peace, and she was reminded of why she had longed to come to the church in the first place.

Giuliana was unsure of how long she knelt before her candle, but she was sure of her lightness of spirit by the time she had finished. The church was empty save for her and Father Delroy, so the girl felt comfortable whispering her prayers aloud. When she was not talking to God, she simply sat in the quiet, enjoying the peace it afforded her and listening for an answer to her prayer. She did not get one that day, but she was confident Heaven had her prayers and would not turn its back on her.

When she rose from the floor, Father Delroy stood not far behind her.

"You are troubled, my child." It was not a question, but Giuliana was not surprised by his bluntness. The priest had always seemed to have a sixth sense about these things, she simply assumed it was because he spent so much time in meditation with God.

"Yes, Father." This time, her short answer was not cold, but quiet and timid.

"Do not worry, all trials end in time."

"But what if - "

"No," the priest cut her off. "There are no buts about it. God loves his creatures; He does not leave them in darkness for long."

"Thank you, Father." Giuliana smiled at the older man; his words were always a comfort to her heavy heart.

"You are welcome."

A few other worshippers began to trickle into the church; the rain had ceased, no longer keeping them inside their houses. Feeling much better than she had when she arrived, Giuliana left and returned home.

And, there you have it. I hope you had a splendid Valentine's Day - I certainly did!

-Alice