Alexis in Wonderland: Thanks for the review! See? I wrote some more:)

KnightMaiden: I guess I didn't wonder if Skye and Tristan wouldn't kill each other because he already is so distant and mysterious and she is very rebuffing in many ways. But I don't know…I'll just have to see I guess. :) I never really know how things are going to turn out—even if I AM the author! Lol. ;)

"You are lying!" I spat angrily. "Many times have people pretended to me about such things."

There was a pause before Arthur replied, gently. I knew he was trying to make me feel ashamed of my outburst. I knew it. And it made my blood boil.

"No m'lady. He is renowned for his dexterity. He has saved the eyesight of many at our wall."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I didn't know people were in the habit of going blind," I shot back sarcastically.

"There is an infection going around," Arthur replied quietly. "It takes the eyesight of many. He hasn't been able to treat everyone, but the percentage of patients who recover after seeing this physician is remarkable in comparison to those who go to other doctors or refuse to seek medication at all."

There was a silence. I didn't know what to say. My father and brother were quiet as well. Did they doubt Arthur's word? As I did? Or were they hoping I would ignore his words. No doubt they would miss me if I left. Yeah right. They'd miss my care of the flock. That was all.

"What is his name?" I surprised myself with the question.

Arthur turned in the saddle to look at me.

"Marcus Amandus."

I snorted. "Amandus means lovable. You expect me to trust somebody like that?"

"You are well versed m'lady."

I was taken aback. When I could see, I had read—read the accounts and tales of our people who had journeyed far and wide. Of my mother's land and home. And her family. My mother had been a writer. So far as anyone could be in our closed society.

When I did not reply, Arthur turned back to my father. "If the lady is willing, my friend Marcus would be willing to examine her at Hadrian's Wall."

Again, my father said nothing. I felt my ire rising.

"I promise you no harm will come to her, my knights and I will escort her personally back to the Roman fortress where Marcus waits."

"That is very kind of you." I could picture my father nodding stiffly and motioning toward the skin hut. "Now, Arthur, step inside my tent and we will discuss the woads."

My brother hadn't said a word thus far. Was he really there? I wondered a moment, then decided he was when I heard somebody shift uneasily before opening the flap of the tent for my father and Arthur.

When the knights left the village three hours later, I was with them. To this day, I don't know how it happened. I guess I was just fed up with the village. Fed up with my father's odd ways and the loneliness and the people. People who lied to me.

But as our journey continued, I began to become frightened. Facing the completely unknown was so much harder than facing the hard truth of that which was only partially revealed. I reached down and touched Niwliog's shoulder. At least I still had her.

After a while, I began to become bored, for the sounds were all the same. The swishing of grass around the horses hooves, the distant cry of a bird, the lonesome wind, and the dip and rise of the hills. The knights, however, must have been becoming as bored as I, for they lapsed into conversation.

"The villagers looked bashed," One with a deep growly voice spoke up.

"A-bashed you mean, Bors. Abashed." Someone corrected from nearby.

"I mean bashed, Gwain, bashed," Bors retorted.

There was a short silence and I envisioned a couple of his companions pulling faces.

"New word, eh?"

"Yep."

Their bantering was so casual and everyday, yet it touched my heart. I decided to ask the question that laid heavy on my mind, though I did not know how to express it.

"Long ago," I said, and I could feel them look at me. "BEFORE I lost my vision..." I stopped. Would they understand?

"Yes?" I recognized the voice as belonging to the one called Gawain. It was prompting, patient, and gave me the strength to continue.

"I was out riding. And I saw some riders. They galloped right past my—my friend and me." I wouldn't try to explain about Cadfael. "Right past. I saw all their faces. And then they went away and up a hill. And into a purple sunset." I paused and swallowed.

There was no sound, save the distant sweep of the wind, but I could tell they were listening.

"After I lost my eyes," I began again, "I could still see each of their faces clearly in my mind's eye," My voice fell to a whisper. "I still can today."

"Who were these men, m'lady?" Arthur's voice.

"I don't know," I said. "I was hoping you would. Someone told me later that they were knights."

"Knights?" One of the voices exclaimed, and I could tell his owner was swiveling his head.

"Yes. Anyway, they are all I can see clearly anymore. Everything else is obscured."

"Where did you perchance see these knights?" Arthur sounded interested.

I sighed. "It was a ways to the north of our village. Cadfael and I rode far that day. I guess we were trying to escape…everything. And then we saw the riders. Cadfael gave them a peace sign and somehow they must've known it for they did not stop when they passed us."

I stopped abruptly, ashamed to realize I was speaking my thoughts. As they were. But I had one thing more that had to be said. "He called them something—some strange name, but I've forgotten what it was."

"Sarmatian?" Gawain asked, his voice low.

"Yes—that's it," I said, my voice rising with excitement despite myself. "Do you know them?"

There was a silence, then one of them said, "We ARE them."

"What?" I nearly fell off Niwliog in my surprise.

"We are they my lady. The same as you saw on that day."

I shook my head. "This cannot be true."

"But it is," Arthur insisted. "I thought I had seen your face somewhere."

"Now he doesn't have to THINK anymore, because she has done it for him," another knight remarked, making everyone laugh.

I felt myself warming to these men despite my initial trepidations. Especially now that I could see them. Persay.

"But," I said, my voice low and trembly, "I can't fit the voices with the names and the names with the faces. So you will have to help me here."

"I'm the tall, dark, handsome one," One of them offered, "Lancelot is my name. And thus runs my voice."

"On and on and on," Gawain added, provoking laughter once more.

"Let me see…" I thought a minute. "I remember two or three, actually, 'dark ones', but one of them had a light gray horse, and the other had twin swords."

"And the third?"

"Braids. I believe he had braids."

"You recall the details quite vividly," Arthur remarked. "As for appearances, I will answer that for you. My friend with the two swords is Lancelot."

I knew Lancelot lifted his eyebrows. I could just feel it. He repeated, "Lancelot."

"The youngest on the gray is Galahad."

"I'm Galahad," Galahad offered, remembering to let me get a handle on his voice.

"And the one in braids is Tristan. He usually says nothing, so you won't have any trouble discerning him."

I chuckled and sure enough, Tristan said nothing.

"The one with the very long—blonde—hair is Gawain."

I paused for a minute. "I think I know who you are, but let me hear your voice."

"I'm Gawain," he said quietly.

"And Bors is the big one."

"Rus," Bors offered. I was glad he didn't shout it. He had a very big voice.

"Dragonet is the other quiet one." Arthur continued.

"Pleased to meet you, m'lady." Dragonet said. He bowed his head.

"And you are Arthur." I said, triumphantly, knowing he had finished the list. "The determined leader on his white steed."

"I think so, yes." Arthur said. He was smiling.

I lapsed into silence, suddenly appalled at my behavior. I had shut myself away for the last year—what was I doing now? Laughing? Joking? Being friendly with a group of strangers?

But they weren't just strangers.

They were the Sarmatian Knights.