Just a short piece to follow up on the previous chapter. Chap 4 is already in the makings...

Please review! please?

I know it is foolish, but my eyes drift down to the floor in hopes of finding some sign that he was here; there is none of course. Will all hopes dashed, I shake off the last remnants of sleep, and quickly dress. The leather feels cold despite the cotton shielding it from my skin, sending shivers up my spine. The sun has not yet had time to warm the land, but it seems fitting: a bitter cold that screams of death. Pausing only long enough to grab a loaf of bread, I head out to the stable. If I am lucky, he will be there alone, and I can try to talk him out of this foolishness; but of course I am not. The respite of sleep has cost me my chance.

They're all there already, my brothers in arms, ready to face their fate. Bohrs sits sharpening his twin blades as Dagonet saddles up his mount. Gawayne is already excercising his, and she seems as excited to go into battle as we are. She dances angrily across the stall as I pass by. Tristan sits in the back, ignoring the lot of us as he polishes his favorite sword. Breaking the loaf in half, Gallahad takes it from me as I drop down onto the bench beside him. There are no words, but we all feel the same. Gathered here, waiting for him; but I fear I am the only one to truly wish to see his face.

He is a king again, hiding behind a mask of marble and stone. My eyes run over him for barely a moment. I can't help but wonder if he feels as he did last night, but I must remember that it was only a dream. I wonder if he feels as betrayed as the rest of us, but as my gaze rises to look at the Romans behind him, the hope of such vanishes. He is a Roman here, knowing only duty and god. Still, there is something about his drawn features that speak of age-old weariness and bitter resentment. No, perhaps Gawayne was right, and he is not completely Roman yet.

The tension in the air is palpable as the bishop steps forward. He doesn't trust us; he shouldn't. Any one of us would be more than happy to end his time upon this earth, but it is not our place. We are not murderers, though he doesn't know that. To his eyes we are nothing but savages; if only he knew what we thought of him. Perhaps he does. Looking much like a rabbit in a den of wolves, he tries to reclaim his ground among us.

"To represent the holy court, my trusty secretary Horton will accompany you on your quest."

We are hardly interested enough to watch said secretary step up. But I spare him a passing glance. Judging by his expression this news is as new to him as it is to us. He is either not as trusty as the Bishop claims, or Germanius is simply trying to intimidate us. Arthur sends Jols to get him a horse and the mouse of a man slinks off. He looks either terrified or disgusted to be riding with us, he should probably be both.

It is three days ride to the wall, and who knows how far beyond that. Our trail leads us through the woods and the Woads. They are tracking us of course, but it seems we are no longer their only threat. This is their land. The Saxon invasion concerns them more than it does us; more than we do them. They force us through the woods, the horses growing more and more alarmed with each trap that springs up before them. They are herding us like cattle, and we have no choice but to follow. With nowhere left to run, we make our stand Weapons drawn, we face them to fight, but they slink back. The horses dance uneasily as they disappear into the trees as nothing more than mist. Devil ghosts.

"Why would they not attack?" I can not help but to feel but disappointed. They push us so far only to deny us battle. I should be grateful. There is no way we can take them all, but it seems reason is not on my mind so much as anger.

"Merlin doesn't want us dead" Something in Arthur's voice tells me he knows more than he is willing to divulge; I do not push him.

We wait a moment more, but nothing shows and finally Arthur sheaths his sword. We follow suit without question, and Tristan leads the way out of the woods and back onto the main path. We are further west than we want to be, but he has scouted this land enough to get us back on the southern road before nightfall.