Gaius had to remain with Father. And Gwen was attending to Uther extra since his bout of ill health. Arthur was leading a march of about a thousand people on foot. An additional 200 men had horses, less than 30 of them knights. The journey that was usually a solid half day ride, was now an all-day crawl. Morgana was beaming as she rode next to him. She wore armor and carried her sword, not that Arthur intended for her to fight. At least Morgana could wield a sword, which was more than could be said for a certain manservant. Merlin could barely squire since he hardly knew which end of a sword one should hold. And he was so clumsy!

The men in the ranks were singing with the excitement of it all. Ballads of heroic battles and fair maidens. Arthur, truth be told hadn't fought in a real battle either. But he was eager to prove himself.

Discipline is key. Men who will obey are worth more than skills in a situation like this.

They arrived as night fell. And Tintagel had prepared a huge feast. They could only fit 300 people in the dining hall, but tents had been pitched outside so that the fighting men, mostly, peasants and commoners could also enjoy roast boar and mead.

))))))

The next morning Arthur briefed his knights who set up and ran drills designed to improve basic technique with spears, and team work and discipline among the men. Later they began fitting everyone with body protection.

Arthur took Morgana down to the beach. He wanted to know exactly where she saw the ships land. It took a few hours, but Morgana told him she located the point where the invasion would occur. It was the flattest part of the beach, and vastly wide. The location was well chosen for an invading army. Arthur set his best scouts to looking for any natural formations from which they could hide, or set up archers, high points, places from which to charge down, where horses could run if need be.

Arthur sent word back for more food, weapons, horses, armor, but whether Father would heed any of his calls was uncertain.

It was the last night of the full moon tonight. Arthur had been in Cornwall for three evenings so far. King Bayard had arrived at midday. He was said to be a fierce commander, who kept a well-disciplined force. He appeared to have 800 men, nearly 300 horse. They settled in, pitched their tents, ate more food provided by the Cornish host. Then set about their own drills.

Arthur met with Bayard, grey haired, clean shaven, in his late fifties, tough. He seemed well prepared given the short notice, and willing to listen, though he would command his own. Arthur was very careful to show him the respect his station deserved.

The villagers from nearby started to head to Tintagel seeking refuge within the castle walls. Urwaine was letting them all in, and the place was almost bursting.

Sir Hilden returned from Amata on the south eastern coast where he'd been sent as an envoy to King Olaf. He was alone. He said the king did not believe in the eminence of a Saxon Invasion and would post sentries but do no more until he saw any reason too. The knight relayed the king's words, Cornwall was nothing to him, Camelot can defend its own lands. Hilden hung his head in shame at having failed to secure the alliance. Arthur patted his shoulder.

"Some men won't lift a finger if they aren't the one threatened," Arthur spoke wisely, "I'm sure you did all you could."

King Odin unsurprisingly had declined to help. Frankly, Odin had tried to assassinate Arthur once before, so he was probably better off without him. The bad blood was over Arthur's killing of his son in single combat. Nothing was going to reconcile their kingdoms any time soon. You can't use men you don't trust. King Alined and Cenred had not responded to the call, which pretty much meant they could not be relied upon either.

By midday Queen Annis of Camlann arrived, she was said to despise Father, so her showing up, with a force of 600, no less, was a good sign. Perhaps because Arthur was leading, she was willing to put aside their differences.

Camelot's defenses were looking better. Catapults were being built from felled trees. Morgana accurately described the ships to him on the ride to Cornwall. If she was correct, the boulders they intended to fling might be able to sink a few. The clang of practice fights, and armorers' hammers rang out day and night. By late afternoon, the only remaining kingdom to answer the call arrived, King Rodor of Nemeth. Arthur knew little of him, so mostly observed and listened. He appeared to have 500 men, a quarter of whom were mounted.

The camp sprawled for leagues in every direction. You couldn't move without running into someone. The food stores were diminishing at an alarming rate. Arthur had had sufficient livestock herded from Camelot a few short days ago but they were almost all eaten now.

))))))

It was the night before Morgana's predicted invasion, the moon was almost full, waning, in the sky. Arthur kept pacing the camp, talking to the respective kings, discussing strategies. He was allowing each to command their own as they saw fit.

A few thoughts kept gnawing at him, What if Morgana is wrong? What if it was all for nothing?

Arthur didn't think he should be the only one stressed out, since Morgana was the cause of his present state he decided to pay her a visit. Arthur had insisted Morgana's tent be next to his. If she had any more visions, he wanted to know about it straight away. She wasn't sleeping either, she looked terrified and kept fidgeting.

"You better not be having second thoughts," He said.

"No, I just…" She struggled to articulate her thoughts, "I wish… I had more accurate information for you, how they are going to fight. I'm not even positive if this is the only place they will strike."

"So long as they do strike, at dawn tomorrow," Arthur said, "I feel able to cope with whatever else they throw at us."

Morgana looked uneasy, which was making him feel less confident by the moment.

"Have you eaten?" He asked.

She indicated not, "Can't, I'm going to be sick as it is."

"We don't have enough physicians," Arthur informed her, "We need your healing skills tomorrow."

"What?" Morgana pouted, "I'm gonna fight"

Father is the only one who gets to put you in harm's way. "I'm definitely not letting you fight!"

They had argued about it for a while. It was almost comforting. Arthur realized that's why he'd come in here.

"Do you want some wine?" He asked.

She declined, "No, I dream clearer without it."

They sat together in silence a long while. It wasn't awkward, it was heartening. They were leaning their heads against one another, temple to temple, before Arthur jabbed her playfully in the ribs.

"Just so you know, if there is no invasion and I look like a fool, not just to every fighting man in Camelot, but to every fighting man in four of Albion's eight kingdoms, I will punish you… severely," Arthur was only being mock serious.

Morgana continued in that vein, cocking a wicked eyebrow at him, "Sentence me to a lifetime of needlepoint?"

Arthur smiled, "Don't tempt me!"

Morgana suddenly turned serious, "Be careful, out there tomorrow."

"I'm not convinced there is going to be any threat," Arthur said, "Let alone a battle tomorrow."

"If there is," Morgana started to say, "Will you believe me?"

Arthur remained silent a while. None of this sat well with him.

He patted her shoulder and got up, "Good night, sleep well."