Author's Note: Thank you kindly for the reviews! I've had this idea floating around in my head for quite awhile, and being as I am fixated on Tristan, Isolde seemed the natural choice …

Someone asked me in a review whether Excelsius Dei really existed; as far as I know, they didn't. I took the name from an episode of a TV show I really liked (X-Files); translated it means either "Glory to God" or "Glory of God", both of which I though were rather apt for what I was using it for. Someone also suggested that I show Isolde through the views of the other knights, and while I find this an intriguing suggestion I don't think it would fit with this story, which I am trying largely to keep a first person narrative. However, it doesn't rule out making a separate fic tied to this that contains the knights' perspectives ….

As well, I was so excited when I finally finished the first chapter that I neglected to post the translation of the latin phrase I used in the beginning. "Locus enim est principum generationis rerum" translates into "for place is the origin of all things".

Thank you again for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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As the sun began to bleed its last light across the forested horizon, Arthur called a halt to our march. Lucilla had fallen asleep at my side, and as the wagon drew to a gently rumbling stop her head fell against my shoulder. The slumbering legionnaire across from us, lying on his side, stirred briefly but resumed his deep breathing. With the horses pulling the wagon stopped, Gracchus dropped the reins and flashed me a brief, sympathetic smile before climbing to the ground and approaching the now dismounted Arthur. I remained where I was; the knights unnerved me, and I was not used to that. A courtesan has a certain level of control in her life, though it may not appear that way; for the most part I was able to decide whom to pleasure, who I would entertain. And always, always, the men were subservient to me –the price they paid for a night in my arms dictated they must be. That was the other half to my newfound apprehension; the only men I had ever been in extended contact with were those who had sought me out for my expertise. There were the members of Excelsius Dei, of course, but the time I spent with them was always brief, always formal, and I had spent only a few impersonal weeks with the legionnaires that had accompanied me from Rome. These men, these … knights, they were of an alien, frightening nature that I had never been exposed to.

Lucilla began to snore softly in my ear, pulling me back from my nervous reveries. Suddenly the covered confines of the wagon seemed too small, and very gently I pushed the merchant wife away from me and eased her back against the wooden sides. I came into a crouch, wincing as my muscles, so unaccustomed to the heavy strain exerted on them these last few weeks, protested vehemently. Carefully, quietly, I pulled my bow over my head and slipped it into my leather pack. I unbuckled my quiver, full of the smaller arrows I was accustomed to, and set it also within the pack. For a moment I debated against leaving my things there in the wagon, for I knew Lucilla was the nosy sort, but I realized how ludicrous it would look for me to be carrying it with me everywhere. I tucked it beneath an overlap of the heavy canvas which covered the wagon before easing my way out from underneath. I stood then on the buckboard of the wagon, and took a moment to look around surreptitiously.

We had halted in a small clearing off the side of the road. The horses of the knights were tethered in a nearby copse of trees, and their masters were now to the left of the wagon a fair distance trying to start a fire. I dearly wanted to climb down and stretch my aching body, but at the prospect of facing seven unknown men an unpleasant feeling settled in the depths of my stomach, and with a sigh I turned again to the cabin of the wagon.

"You must be hungry."

The observation elicited a gasp from me, and I spun around quickly. Half crouching, half standing, my head impacted with the wooden arch of the wagon cover, and with a muted sound of pain I fell ungracefully to my knees.

"Apologies," the speaker said, and there was no denying the amusement in his words. Through eyes which watered I was able to see it was the knight who had teased me earlier. "I did not mean to startle you."

I muttered something incomprehensible, still clutching my head with one hand and using the other to help me rise. I heard a soft chuckle, and I let fall my hand to glare with narrowed eyes upon the one who found my misery so entertaining. He was a tall man, lean, armoured in black with rivets of metal, and I could see clearly two sword scabbards protruding over his shoulders. He had the head of thick, short black curls that I had noticed before; a thin precise beard lined his mouth and cheeks, and his darker features, while genial, held faint traces of arrogance. Black eyes dancing with mirth regarded me, and because that mirth was at my expense I felt my ire rise.

Prompted by my silence, he inquired cheerfully, "Have you been rendered suddenly mute? Or perhaps your voice has fled in the face of my irresistible charm?"

For a moment I could only stare at him, astounded by his audacity. I opened my mouth then to say something scathing –I do not know exactly what- but he raised one arm to cut me off with another wide smile.

"Are you hungry? You and the others with you?"

I glanced into the wagon; in the dying light I could barely make out the still sleeping forms of Lucilla and the legionnaire. I said stiffly, "They are asleep."

"And you?"

Was I hungry? Oh, yes. Did I want him to know just how much? No. My inner debate must have been easy to read, for he said, "We don't poison our food." He paused, and then added with a grin, "Much."

The urge to throw something heavy and sharp at his head was rising; I eyed him with an expression that made him chuckle again. "Come down," he said then, "and come to the fire. You need to eat something."

It was tempting, so very tempting, but I caught a glimpse past him at his comrades as they moved as mere silhouettes now around the fire. They were even more intimidating in the dark. I shook my head mutely.

Knowing what I was looking at, he said, "We are much friendlier than we look. You have nothing to fear." Seeing the resolution on my face, he sighed with good humoured resignation. "Very well. I will bring some food for you and the others."

As he made to leave I asked, curious despite myself, "What is your name?"

His charming, easy smile flared once again before he turned away, tossing a reply over his shoulder, "Lancelot."

.I .

The knight was true to his words, and he returned a short time later bearing a fabric wrapped bundle of steaming slabs of meat of some sort and thick slices of ration bread. I bent and took it from him with murmured thanks, to which he merely nodded. As I stooped to wake the others, he said, "Arthur will be here shortly. He wishes to speak with all of you."

I paused, my eyes scanning the night he had shaped himself out of, able to see only shadows surrounding the hearty orange glow of the large fire. Lancelot's announcement made me nervous, though I tried not to show it. I was unsure whether my tension was obvious or not, for he merely gave me a brief smile before turning to make his way again to the fire. Clutching his offering, I tentatively made my way back underneath the wagon covering. It was dark enough now that I could scarcely discern Lucilla and the legionnaire, but the combined sounds of their snoring informed me they were still in repose. I knelt at Lucilla's side and shook her shoulder gently; she came awake slowly, with a gasped, "What is it?"

"There is food here for us," I said, unwrapping the bundle of cloth and holding it out before her.

"Blessed be. I feel as though I have not eaten in months. The knights brought this?"

"Yes."

"Where are we?" A husky male voice asked, and I watched the shadow of the legionnaire across from us unfold and rise into a sitting position. I told him as much as I knew, and he nodded. After nabbing a slice of bread from the bundle I passed it to him, and for a moment we all sat in silence, enjoying our meager but desperately needed repast. As I swallowed the last of the dry bread, Lucilla began to speak to the legionnaire.

"We have been remiss in our introductions, for I know not your name. We should all be familiar, for we shall be together for some time, it seems. I am Lucilla, and my husband," here her voice cracked, and I felt a rush of sympathy. She had suffered a great loss only recently, and she was putting up a very brave front. "My husband was Praxus Tacitus … he fell to the Saxons." There was a poignant silence then, as she bowed her head; a moment later she continued, her voice stronger, and she gestured to me. "This is Isolde. What are you called?"

"Sidonius," the legionnaire replied. "Sidonius Varius Laurentius. Soldier of the now decimated fifty-third legion … but I that I think you already knew."

There was a wry note in his voice that I instantly liked; he had accepted the events that had befallen us stoically, and seemed determined to keep living as he had. It was the most any of us could do, I realized, to accept the hand we had been dealt with grace and responsibility.

We spoke then of our uncertainties and of our expectations; it seemed both Sidonius and Lucilla were well versed in the tales of Arthur Castus and his Sarmatian knights. They were both relieved we were now in his charge, for if there was ever a man that could get them home it would be he. I remained silent on the subject, for I did not share their optimistic view. I did not want to go back to Rome, I did not want to return to the life I had left, but I had no doubts they would send me back. And should Excelsius Dei hear word of my survival, they would expect me to complete my task. It was no longer a matter of not wanting to kill Arthur; I was now acutely aware that I was no match for him or any of his knights. Bedside assassinations disguised in seductions were one thing, but I did not think Arthur was a man to be lured in the manner I was so adept at. My skill with archery and the sword were now redundant; to attack him blatantly was certainly suicide. For the first time it occurred to me that my cowled benefactors had sent me to certain death; had they really expected me to succeed? I was mired firmly in the web the fates had woven for me, and I was searching frantically for an escape. I would not kill Arthur, but could not stay in his custody for the threat to my own survival ...

"I need to stretch my legs," Sidonius said then, and Lucilla nodded. I hesitated only for a minute; if they were leaving the wagon, then I would too, though I would not venture near the fire. One after the other we stood; Sidonius hopped to the ground and then turned to assist us both. I had taken but a few slow steps along the side of the wagon when Arthur appeared before the three of us, bearing a torch. As we all became awash in the firelight, Sidonius inclined his head respectfully, and Lucilla murmured soft praise. Watching from the side a small distance away, I remained cautiously silent.

"I regret that you have entered Britain under these circumstances," Arthur said, gracing us each in turn with his cursory gaze. "Had we known before time you were coming, we would have been at the garrison to meet you."

"It is not through fault of yours this happened, my lord," Sidonius replied, and went on to explain the travesties that had befallen us, starting with the storm at sea. Arthur listened intently, face grave, and when the legionnaire had finished he sighed slowly.

"Your journey has been cursed, but I promise you that from this point onwards you will suffer no more. We shall see you safely to our outpost, and from I will ensure you arrive where you are destined."

I held my breath, fearing he would ask where exactly it was we were headed; I had not yet formulated a lie to that question. Instead he said, "You know my name, but I do not know yours."

We told him, one after the other, and his expression altered only slightly, curiously, upon hearing mine that was obviously not of Rome. He nodded then, and gestured behind him to the fire with the torch. "You are welcome to join us, if you wish. I do recommend you get some rest, for we leave at daybreak, and our day will be long and arduous."

Sidonius opted to follow Arthur back to the others; Lucilla, like myself, seemed daunted by the prospect of facing Arthur's knights. We walked around briefly, keeping within perimeter of the wagon, before clamboring back into it. Settled again beneath the covering, we laid in the back side by side. Lucilla did some digging through the baggage from our slaughtered caravan that had remained intact.

"There are cloaks in here, to use as blankets," she said, producing two and handing one to me. It was heavy and thick, of good quality, and although it obviously belonged to a man I draped it around myself thankfully. "And have you any other clothing, Isolde? Oh, some of your things are still here. You will want to change come morning, I expect. That dress of yours has seen better days."

I remembered then why I hadn't particularily liked Lucilla when first we'd started travelling together. I ignored her, pulling the cloak together tightly and curling up on my side. Lucilla did the same, facing away from me. She began to talk then, rambling nonsense and badgering me with questions to which I replied with monosyllables. She fell silent after a while, and though I had expected sleep to remain elusive in light of all my worries, I followed her not soon after.

. I .

I was awake before Lucilla the next day, and hearing silence from outside I decided to brave the dawn and leave the wagon. Climbing down awkwardly I stifled a groan; a night's sleep on the hard wooden floor had done nothing for my already sore body. Upon the ground I surveyed my surroundings; the fire was still smoldering, and around it were arrayed dark, covered forms that I assumed to be the knights. Some were already awake and moving; lest I catch their attention I hurried around to the other side of the wagon. Leaning against it, I closed my eyes and breathed deep; the smell of the morning was heady, rich, and I had not before this taken the opportunity to appreciate the scents of nature. Feeling somewhat mollified by the first decent sleep I had had in weeks, I wandered back around the wagon whilst humming absently.

"You seem in good spirits this morning," Lancelot was standing where I had crawled down from the wagon, and though he startled me I managed not to jump. "I told you we didn't poison our food."

"And a lovely morning to you," I said a trifle peevishly. This man irked me as no other could, and I had only known him for a matter of hours.

"It is a lovely morning," he agreed jovially. "Not a cloud in the sky, which means hopefully no rain. That's one thing about this country I hate; it rains constantly. Does it rain often in Rome?"

His abrupt inquiry threw me; not wanting to reveal more about myself than was necessary I answered slowly. "Sometimes, yes, but not often."

"Is it everything Arthur tells me it is? A grand and glorious city of equality and good will towards everyone?" His tone was sceptical, and I could see then that he harboured no love towards Rome.

"Perhaps in some areas," I said, and could not mask the slight bitterness in my tone. Equality? I knew nothing of it … if it existed there, why had I been forced into the life of a courtesan?

My answer was not what he expected, nor was the underlying emotion I had spoken with. His gaze upon me became focused and scrutinizing, and it was all I could do not to fidget beneath it. Finally he smiled.

"Perhaps Arthur has been gone too long. But I won't force you to converse with me any longer. I came to tell you and your companion that there is a small stream over there," he pointed with one gloved hand to the right of the wagon, "behind some trees that you can use to refresh if you so wish."

My interest piqued. I dearly wanted to rid myself of the blood and dirt I had accumulated since arriving on this island. "Go ahead," Lancelot said, "but be quick about it. We leave soon." And with that he turned and strode towards the horses.

I contemplated waking Lucilla, but decided not to bother. For fear of delaying our departure I cast one, nervous glance the way of the now roused knights before hastening in the direction Lancelot had indicated. I found the stream without difficulty; the sound of water running over rock alerted me to its location. It was small, barely rising over my ankles, and it was cold. I didn't care, and instead crouched in the middle of it, heedless of the hem of my skirt and cloak becoming soaked. I caught water in my cupped hands and splashed it upon my face; the shock was invigorating, and I gasped. After several minutes of this I pushed my cloak over my shoulders and set about cleaning the blood and caked dirt from my left arm. My right was encased beneath the long sleeves of my dress in a leather sheath which laced all the way up to the elbow. Attached to it was a covering which looped around my middle finger, leaving the rest of my fingers free and effectively hiding from sight the mark of my servitude to Excelsius Dei that was centered within my palm. I had thought when I was still in Rome that this would be more practical while journeying then the long gloves of fine cloth I usually wore, and so I had had it commissioned by a leather smith who was also a member of the Order. I raised my sleeves and examined it; it too was stained with the evidence of my journey, and the only way I could effectively clean it would be to remove it …

Quite abruptly I became aware that I was not alone; I rose to my feet and whirled about. Standing amongst the trees that bordered the stream was one of Arthur's knights; he held in one hand a bow, and I realized from his expression he had not expected to find me here. I had only caught a brief glimpse of him before; this close he was frightening, and I backed a step unconsciously. I had said that the knights looked to me like wild men, and this one was a testament to that fact. Like Lancelot he was tall and lean, and was armoured in thick, dark leather over which he wore mail of wide, circular rivets. His leathers fell to his knees, cut open wide in both the front and the back so as to allow freedom of movement. Dark eyes regarded me impassively, shadowed by the wayward braids and strands of his long uneven hair that fell haphazardly over his brow. I could see from where I stood black markings of a foreign nature adorning his cheeks; whether they were of paint similar to what the Picts used or whether they were of permanency, I was unable to tell. A dark beard shadowed the lower half of his face, graying near his chin.This man terrified me, and as though he were aware of my discomfiture a slight and vaguely sardonic smile flickered across his mouth.

"We leave soon," was all he said to me, the words lilted by an unusual accent I could not place. "Be quick, yea?"

Indignant despite my apprehension, I said evenly, "I had already finished."

He didn't bother to respond; I saw again the ghost of an unpleasant smile before he turned and wove his way between the trees; he had a long, predatory stride that told me he was as at home in the forest as he was anywhere. I stared after him, my heart racing; if all Arthur's knights terrified me this way I would drop dead well before we ever got to where we were going. I waited until he had gone beyond my line of sight before wading out of the stream and up the bank. I wrung out the bottom of my dress and cloak as best I could, and with a resigned sigh I began to make my way back to the wagon.

Unwilling assassin, courtesan foremost, and here I was traversing the wilds of Britain with men no more the image of genteel knights than I was of a savage. Had the fates a sense of humor?

Oh yes, and they were making the best of it by meddling with my life.

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