The confrontation

A/N- sorry for the long wait, I was on vacation, the next chptr is the last I think and it's going to be colossally long (I think about 5 or 6 pages) because it includes an epilogue that I don't want people to miss. I am very sad sniff to find only one review…please review…but thanks to my faithfulls who do review. This one should hopefully tie up a few loose ends as we head to the conclusion.

She was pushing her mount to its' limits. The horse's hooves pounded the ground at a furious pace, but she wished she could move faster. It was just like being betrayed by Teak all over again. She bent low over the horse's mane and kicked her heels into its sides. She knew Lancelot would follow her, whether or not he caught her in time, was a completely different matter. She flew past several startled peasants and through a copse of trees, emerging to see the wall. Her eyes glinted with rage as she was ushered past the smaller gate. Thundering into the courtyard she leapt down and ran into the upper barracks howling for Germanus. She ran into Horton, who fussed with his robes demanding

"Lady, please! His eminence is not to be bothered at the moment!" He huffed, outraged when she shoved him roughly out of the way and strode up to the door. His eyes grew wide, however, when her cloak was brushed aside by the wind, giving him a clear view of her hand, clenched furiously around the hilt of her dagger. He turned away, and scuttled off to find some guards. Not bothering to knock, Camille flung the doors open and approached a startled Germanus at his desk. She pulled out the letter and thrust it in his face.

"This is how you repay my work?" she shouted, her voice hoarse with rage. He sat back and laughed loudly, rising from his chair.

"Hees lordship, Marcus Honorios ees een commahnd here, there is nothing you can do to stop me."

"Honorious is dead" she spat back at him. The bishop moved closer

"Wehll in that case, you can be MY slave then. That ees what you're good at rihght" he asked, leering at her. Before she could respond, he seized her by the arm and waist and smashed her up against him, squashing his lips against her. He smelled sour, with a sweet cloying undertone that accompanied death. She fought one hand loose and slammed a fist against his face. He reeled back panting. She stood slightly disconcerted.

"You veel pay for striking mee!" he cried and hit her in the face as hard as he could, knocking her down. Furious he kicked her in the face on the floor, then reached down, seized her by her hair, and yanked her up, forcing her head back.

"You neehd to learn some respect gihrl!" he growled slapping her again. Her nose was bleeding and her face bruised from the abuse, but she had regained her composure. From behind them Lancelot entered as he raised his hand to strike her again. Up came her hand, clenched around the dirk and she clubbed him in the face. He dropped her and staggered back. She lifted her hand and Lancelot yelled

"NO!" sprinting forward and seized her around the waist, dragging her backwards. The knife missed the bishop's chest by inches and whistled harmlessly past his ear instead, landing in the wall beside him, quivering. Lancelot's face was dark with rage and he quickly strode forward, grabbed Germanus by the front of his robes and landed a punch on his nose, which broke audibly. He dropped the man and ran back to Camille, who had slumped down against the wall staring glassily at the ceiling. A party of guards rushed in. The leader went to his weapon but Lancelot's sword was at his neck so quickly that he had no time to draw it. He said in a voice that was quiet, but so saturated with barely controlled rage that they all shrunk from him

"This is none of your concern, you would do well not to meddle." He threw a contemptuous glance at Germanus,

"On second thought, take care your master, he seems to have fallen and injured himself" with a scornful glare over his shoulder, he gathered up Camille and led her outside into the watery sunlight, where she blinked and her eyes seemed to clear. Her shoulders slumped and she whispered

"I've gotten us all in trouble, haven't I?" Her eyes were hurt and he could almost see the little girl who's mistaken trust had lost her her entire family. He hugged her fiercely until he felt the tension go out of her and led her back to the courtyard. As they stood there, a little shocked by the events they had put into motion, Arthur and the remaining knights galloped in from the gates. His eyes concerned, Arthur leapt from his saddle and strode over to them. He met Lancelot's eyes first and was apprehensive at the still smoldering anger there. Camille looked down and away but he grasped her chin gently and raised her face up to his. His eyes narrowed when he saw red imprints of hand marks and the blood that still dripped from her nose and cut lip. The impending bruises were painfully obvious and his hand clenched involuntarily at his side. Gwenivere shouldered him aside and pulled her friend into an understanding hug. From behind them all, the little boy Lucan dashed from the assembled crowd towards the covered body of Dagonet on the horse. Evading Gwenivere's attempts to stop him he stopped stock still, staring at the hand that protruded from the covering. From behind them, a furious Galahad stopped a soldier intent on pursing the boy, as Germanus entered, sporting a large handkerchief and Horton to lean on. He glared daggers at Camille, but when he noticed the furiously twitching muscle in Lancelot's jaw and the weapon, partially out of its' sheath he looked away. Arthur stepped up to him, and, towering several hands above him intoned, stone cold

"Bishop Germanus; friend of my father." The message in his glare was quite clear- the bishop would say nothing of the recent events and he would retain what was left of his health. Plastering on a smile to hide his fury, Germanus offered up the papers of release to the knights.

As they stood at the burial mound of Dagonet, the knights could not know that the next few days would bring a whirlwind of events. Arthur's decision to stay for a last stands against the Saxon's disturbed them all, but none so much as Lancelot. In the end he too looked away and left with the others. Camille said nothing, but he thought he saw in her eyes the smallest most muted of reproaches. In his dreams the gypsy woman who had given him the ring as a child in his far-off villarge haunted him. Her eyes bored into his very soul and whispered that prophecy over and over. He could hear it echo in his head even through his waking hours:

"One day, young one, she will come, the woman with the bottomless eyes. You will be on a path chosen for you by others. She will bring you to the end of your journey. She is your destiny and it is to her that you will give this ring. Should she accept it and choose to wear it, you will live out your days together in harmony.

Here he could see the lines around her eyes crease as she stared into the fire:

However, should it be taken from her by enemies when you are away from her side, she will perish with you on a battlefield far from your home."

He scowled, it was just the ramblings of an old woman, and he had given her the ring simply as a gift, not as a binding of everlasting love. But still… the whispers of unease pushed him on to flee the wall. To run, something he had never done in his life, with her to somewhere where they could never be parted- by life or death.

please oh please review!