Chapter 6 [A Quarter Turn of the Hourglass Later]

Merlin smoothed his shirt and breeches. He straightened his neckerchief. He checked his hair to make sure it was combed and in place. Then he wiped the dust off of his jacket. He pulled that on and inspected himself in the mirror once more.

Despite the glass' slight distortions around the edges, it showed his layers. Reputation, Status and Dress obscured his true worth behind servile veneer. Still his eyes held the light firmly. His manner seemed strong and forthright. His muscles had filled out from Toil's duties over the years. His hands looked bigger than they'd been. Still Insecurity poked through that strength as well.

Which was he? The peasant? The royal servant? The Prince? Emrys, the greatest of Druid sorcerers? The answers weren't forthcoming.

Why isn't it ever easy? He frowned. His mind spun with Implication's route and its potential forks. He hoped that Desire and Want didn't overwhelm Need and Common Sense. He bit his lip.

A knock came from the door.

"Now who?" His feet shuffled ever so slightly. His breathing seemed labored. His hand slowly turned the latch. He pulled the door open to find Peter waiting. "Peter?"

"Good Evening, my Prince." Peter bowed to him.

Merlin sighed. "I'm not a Prince yet, Peter. At this point, you are a court official. I am but a guest and servant. So I should be bowing to you."

Peter nodded. "For now. It is but a scratch of the quill from happening. The laws are on your side. Besides you are responsible for my fortune."

"I…am?" Merlin considered the visitor. He checked his chamber one more time. Then he secured the door. "How's that? I remember Princess Mithian telling me that she found you in the garden last summer. She read your poem. She and King Rodor arranged for your position and marriage to Sarah. What does that have to do with me?"

"My lord, if I may say so, her bond with you inspired her to help us. She would have before of course. Still she seems happier than I had seen her before. So thank you." Peter bowed again. "King Rodor has asked me to guide you to the banquet hall for dinner."

I inspire her? Really? Merlin pondered.

Yes, Merlin. You do. Imagine that, my Prince? Mithian noted with a teasing barb.

Peter was telling me about what you did for him. Mithian, that was you not me, Merlin doubted.

By example, you had a role. I keep telling you how your heart inspires. Can you please believe in yourself for a turn of the hourglass? Please? I will see you at dinner, my Love. With that, she went silent.

Consideration forced him to face that fact. I need to give myself a chance. He turned toward Peter. "I appreciated your poem at Samhain."

"I did my best. I have another for tonight. I hope you will like that," Peter told him.

"I'm sure I will. Please show the way," Merlin assured him while following him down the passage.

[Gawain's Chamber]

Gawain rolled his eyes at his reflection. He frankly hated the fine robes. He scratched under the collar. Their stiffness stifled him. He felt as if he was choking. "So tell me why do I have to wear this?"

"You have to look respectable for the King, Princess and Prince Merlin. Besides you have to make a good impression on the Royal Council and other knights. You must appear to be respectable," Britomart explained (for the third time).

As with the other two times, he frowned. He narrowed his eyes before rolling them. "That lot will never look at me that way. I let my sword do the talking. Now, Merlin and Mith', they know what I can do. They can talk to the King for me. If the knights want to talk, I'll take 'em for a drink. If they want to spar, we'll go and spar on the field down below. Ywain and Galahad have seen me fight."

"They've also had to get you out of trouble at your cough, cough favorite past time," she reminded him. She smoothed the gown. "For once, you even look halfway sophisticated."

He coughed. "I feel like a stallion being paraded around before market."

"You do have something there. I was thinking of perhaps a cow but…." she teased.

"How come you don't have to dress up?" He looked over her outfit. She'd returned to her white blouse and a long skirt.

"This is actually a new outfit from the Princess for tonight. I can look nice. So should you," she informed him. She grinned at how her new outfit looked and felt so fresh.

"At Camelot, we just show up. This starched stuff isn't necessary. Merlin's in his regular stuff," he pointed out.

"This isn't Camelot. Thankfully. I've had enough of that place for my liking especially certain louts." She raised an eyebrow. "Please, Sir Gawain, do try and make a good impression."

"Yeah because you can't live without me. Face it, Brit. Now let's go and see Rodor." He wheeled around and marched out the door.

That oaf! HONESTLY! She ground her teeth. She didn't know what was worse: his behavior, his attitude or the fact that he was right about her. Her heart soared even as her brain felt positively naked by his assessment. Worse still, her mind worried about how she'd deal with her 'debt' to him later that night. I want him. Would it be so bad? Still my Lady has her standards. I can't. Why can't he understand? Can't he be a gentleman for a turn of the hourglass? She shook her head and stormed after him.

Amor does love her stormy voyages or so it seemed…..

[Josiane's Chamber]

Josiane inspected the fine borrowed dress. Mithian, it seemed, had picked the best possible gown for her. The turquoise shade was her favorite. The dress fit well almost as if it had been made for her specifically. It even had a higher neckline than most of the dresses she'd seen other ladies wearing around the castle. Still she pulled a scarf over her head and bound it there. She considered her reflection. "It is not perfect but Modesty can still be served. I pray King Rodor will understand."

A knock came from the door.

She answered it to find a brown haired teenage boy waiting for her. His courtier emerald gown hung down perilously close to his shoes. He kept his eyes averted. "Princess Josiane, I am here to guide you to dinner." He bit his lip.

"Did I say or do something, my Young Friend?" she wondered.

"No, Princess."

"Then why do you not look at me?" She folded her arms across her chest. "I do not care about class differences here. I am an exile. Your King honors me."

He raised his eyes to see her looking right at him. "You are still deserving of respect, Good Lady. I would not shame you."

"As I would not do to you, my Friend." She nodded while seeing a question forming in his eyes. "You have something you would ask?"

"May I say your scarf is nice?" he asked. Fear shot tremors through him.

"You may and thank you. It is one of a few things left to me from my homeland." She smiled. Her eyes sparkled. "And I thank you for your kindness. What is your name?"

"Samuel, Princess."

"Master Samuel, I thank you for your courtesy and humility. You could teach some so-called nobles a few things in that regard. Please. Shall we join your King?" she expressed.

"We should." He bowed again. He grinned in spite of his being on duty. Respect lightened his heart.

It seemed that not all nobles looked down at servants as dirt after all…..