They all left Segedunum some four weeks later with mixed feelings. Senna was pleased with the preparations that he had persuaded the fort commander to make. The man and his senior staff had become hopeful, even enthusiastic, about their prospects for repelling Saxon attacks on the town. They had begun working with local militias on nearby towns against the common threat to their collective security. Townspeople seemed to catch on the optimism.

Percy had grudgingly come to respect the local healers, and they him. He patted the saddlebag behind him carrying a number of new herbal preparations, and spoke with Dani about the need to have them committed to parchment.

Dani had made friends among the women, in the short time they had been at Nervic's village. Shared sorrow had made them closer than they would have been otherwise, so it had been a goodbye with invitations to return. Nervic had sounded apologetic that their visit to his village had been interrupted by conflict and asked them to stay for Lugnasad, the harvest festival in early fall. Dani invited him to Badon when he was off duty next. It was not such a long ride.

Tristan was more reserved. He had seen swirling Pictish patterns on the arms of more than one man in the village, and the old druid had clearly been a familiar, much respected figure among them. Again he had much to think about, and he was getting tired of challenges to beliefs he had clung to for more than fourteen years. He wished for the time when one's enemies were clear, and one never knew their families and friends. He tried to focus on the day of his discharge, which was coming up soon, but thinking about it brought to mind his unresolved dilemma. He glanced at Dani, again riding ahead of him. The hawk sat on a makeshift perch on the saddle in front of him in deference to his still healing shoulder.

'At least you'll be with me,' he told the hawk, but it was cold comfort.

It was a much shorter journey back to Badon, camping only two nights at villages they had stopped at earlier. They received warm welcome at both places. Dani tended Tristan's wound, which was almost completely healed. Despite the closeness, he could not bring up their interrupted conversation, or ask the dozen questions he had.

They clattered into Badon late one drizzly afternoon, wet and tired, and gratefully handed the horses to Jols and his new assistant Gilly, Bors' oldest. Dani had given him the gelding to care for; in return he could use the horse. The fourteen year old had been ecstatic, despite having to share the little horse with his younger siblings. He was diligent in its care and exercise, so the woman had left him in charge of the filly Darya as well. Jols noticed his natural aptitude and had apprenticed him in the stable. Tristan noticed the boy was tense.

'Mum's having the baby and Two's with her,' the boy said to Dani without preamble. 'She asked for you.' Dani frowned. Vanora was not due for another month, possibly two.

'Let her know I am coming,' she told the boy. 'Where is Dagonet?'

'Out on patrol to the West,' said Eric, coming out to give her a quick hug. 'With Arthur.'

'Then I am going with you,' said Percy. The surgeon unloaded his instrument kit from the saddle and headed for the clinic to wash. Dani followed. Tristan turned to the young knight.

'Where is Bors?' he asked. The boy shrugged.

'I don't know.' He said.

'Find him.' Tristan said and headed to the baths to wash and change. When he came out, Eric informed him Bors was not at the fort. With Two busy with Vanora and Gilly with the horses, Bors must be watching his other children, Tristan reasoned.

'Come with me,' he told Eric, and headed into town where he knew Vanora's home was. Percy and Dani had already gone.

'What for?' asked Eric, hurrying on coltish legs to keep pace with the other's long strides.

'Help Bors watch the children,' explained Tristan, suppressing a grin when Eric blanched.

It was hectic at the small and usually neat house where Vanora and her children lived. Moans of pain came from the back room where Vanora labored with Aili the midwife. A nervous Bors stood in the large living room surrounded by his anxious brood, Two downwards, wringing his hands.

'What can I do?' He asked Dani.

'Keep your pants on,' suggested Percy, unpacking his instruments.

'He said you should run along,' improvised Dani, looking meaningfully at Tristan. Just then Lancelot appeared and took one of Bors' arms.

'Come,' he urged the big man, steering him towards the door. 'It is for the men to celebrate a baby's birth. I know just the place.' He gave the scout a speaking stare over Bors' shoulder. Tristan knew what that meant. To keep Bors out of the women's way, they would have to get him drunk. When Bors was drunk, he was …. well, he was Bors. Where was Dagonet when he was needed? The scout suppressed a sigh and took the big man's other arm. Never let it be said that he let down a brother.

'Help Two with the rest,' he instructed a wide-eyed Eric, nodding his head to the gaggle of children, glad he would not be the only one in misery.