Chapter 2: The Traveller And The Warrior

Elizabeth had woken up feeling uneasy, though she didn't know why. Some time had passed since the incident with John and Jane speaking to the old Saxon woman. Though, whether it had been just one day or several days, Elizabeth had no idea. But it could not have been too long, she thought, because Elizabeth still retained vivid memories of both those incidents.

Her feeling of unease increased as the morning passed slowly, but so did a feeling of anticipation. She was not able to explain or understand either feeling.

"Lizzy, have you seen Lydia?"

Elizabeth shook her head plainly at Jane. "She's probably hiding somewhere with Kitty; aren't they supposed to finish weaving the baskets for Aunt Gardiner by tonight?"

As Jane was about to answer, a figure near the gate caught Elizabeth's attention. "Jane, Kitty is waving at us. Let's go see what it's about; I wager that she would know what Lydia has gotten up to."

The Briton village consisted of some forty or more individual houses, laid out in two rough circles, one within the other. A tall fence of tethered timber poles, their points sharpened like giant pencils, completely encircled the village. At any given point, the fence was at least twice a man's height, and to make the prospect of scaling it even less enticing, a deep trench followed it all the way around the outside. The gate was usually guarded by a gatekeeper with two dogs; Kitty was standing just outside the fence, beckoning her sisters to come over.

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a look, and went over to Kitty, each pausing to pet the dogs.

"Kitty, what is it?"

Instead of speaking, Kitty moved further away from the fence, giggling like a little girl.

Jane frowned, and Elizabeth felt her earlier unease bubble up. Nevertheless, they followed Kitty until it became obvious that Kitty was going to descend down the hill.

"Kitty, where do you think you're going?" Elizabeth asked.

"The fog is especially thick," Jane commented. "We aren't to venture beyond the fence today. Kitty, I'm afraid to walk far out."

Jane was right, Elizabeth thought. The fog was thick, even for early midday. She could barely make out several feet in front of her.

"Kitty! I demand that you stop. Where do you think you are going? If you don't answer me this very instance, I will go fetch our Uncle to deal with you. Or I will call one of Elders, and you'll have to answer to them," Elizabeth commanded.

That stopped Kitty, who pouted. "You're two of the most boring people I know! Lydia and I saw something…he he he…well, maybe not a thing…if you go and call anyone, you'll get us both in trouble."

Elizabeth felt her blood run cold. "Is it a baby ogre? Have you two captured baby ogre?"

"Oh goodness no! That would be horrifying!"

"Kitty," Jane said gently. "Tell us what the two of you saw, and where you are going."

Kitty's shoulders fell. "Lydia was very pretty this morning, but I had made no effort. When we…up from the hill, we saw this man! Not like the men at the village – a man with a sword, and he had this dazzling smile and strong arms…anyway, I rushed up to put on a better dress and ribbons in my hair. I'm going to go find them before Lydia has him for herself!" With that, Kitty broke into a soft run.

"A man?" Jane gasped.

"Yes," Elizabeth said grimly, "and clearly not one from our village either. Jane, we better go drag them away before they get into real trouble."

Elizabeth, Jane, and Kitty had to walk right up to the Great Plain to find Lydia. They finally found her seated next to a man who was lying on the ground, propping himself up with one arm.

"My oh my, it must be my lucky day! Look at all these beautiful ladies."

"Oh, they're just my sisters," Lydia said, catching sight of them. "Jane, Elizabeth, and Catherine, though we call her Kitty. Sisters, this is the dashing George Wickham, who is a traveller!"

Elizabeth thought to herself that there was no such thing as a 'traveller'. Kitty had been right in her description of the man. He was pleasing to look at, and seemed to have a strong build.

"Ladies, why don't you join us?" he said.

For the first time, Kitty looked nervously at her two elder sisters.

"Lydia, come here at once," Jane stated.

Lydia simply giggled. "You know there's more sunshine here than ever is in the village. And it's so boring there. And Wickham here is so delightful!"

"Mr. Wickham here is a complete stranger to us," Elizabeth retorted.

"Come now, miss…"

When Elizabeth refused to provide her name, Lydia did. "She's my second eldest sister, Elizabeth."

"Well then Ms. Elizabeth, do I not speak like you? Why then this talk of strangers?" Wickham had now seated himself upright.

"You may speak excellent Brittonic sir, but you are dressed like a stranger. There are none hereabout who dress as such, or loll about the Great Plains on their own."

The man smiled. "Perhaps I am simply braver than those you have come in contact with." Lydia beamed at this. "And I dress as such, because I am a traveller."

"There is no such thing as a traveller," Elizabeth stated resolutely. This Wickham was beginning to unnerve her.

"And yet, here I am, a traveller. Clearly there's more to the world than the limits of your knowledge, Miss Elizabeth. Now, if you and your beautiful sister don't want to enjoy yourselves, relax a little, that is a mighty pity, but why stop Miss Lydia from having her fun?"

"Lydia is under our charge!" Jane exclaimed, astonished.

Lydia scoffed. "La! They're both so dull. Jane spends her whole day helping old people, and Lizzy is like a crazed old woman, clutching a piece of metal and muttering to herself when she's alone."

Elizabeth gasped. "Lydia!"

"I saw you had some little shiny thing this morning, so I took it when you were not looking. Don't look so angry, I put it back." Completely uncaring, Lydia looked at Wickham. "It was the most useless thing, so small with strange letters and misshapen arrows and shaped like so," Lydia drew a shape on the ground to demonstrate to Wickham. "Must have been a child's toy, with a horse with wings on it, or something like. It was very small. My sister is very odd."

Instead of openly laughing at Elizabeth however, Wickham looked at her with guarded interest and caution. "Strange letters, strange shapes, and a horse with wings, was it? Well, that certainly is odd. However Miss Lydia, I am beginning to feel some pity for your poor sisters. They came all this distance looking for you, and you are under their charge. Perhaps you should return home with them. I will amuse myself out here until it is time to move on."

Jane looked at Elizabeth in surprise at this turnabout. Elizabeth herself was becoming increasingly suspicious. Why, suddenly, for no reason…

"You know, I daresay the mist is becoming thicker. Miss Lydia, be a dear, go with your sisters while you all can. My beauty, if we are destined to meet again, we shall."

Lydia was clearly unwilling to leave, but with the sudden change of heart of and insistence of Wickham, she was left with little choice. Though she complained bitterly about the interference of her sisters, Elizabeth was nevertheless glad to turn their back on the man.

"Miss Elizabeth, a moment if you will," Wickham suddenly said.

She turned and looked at him warily.

"Now, Miss, I did convince your sister to join you. I just need a moment of your time to ask for directions. You are clearly able to discern that I am indeed not from about here."

"Just go Lizzy," Jane whispered. "The sooner his query is answered, the sooner we can leave."

Grudgingly, Elizabeth walked back over to Wickham.

First, Wickham simply asked her for the best way to get to the next village west of them avoiding the path of ogres. As Elizabeth explained directions to him, Wickham suddenly dropped his voice to a whisper.

"You're not the only one with odd things, missy. Look-a-here."

Elizabeth had to stifle her gasp as Wickham turned an object towards her. The same crest that was on her metal token was on his object, the similar strange letters, except his object was encrusted with jewels.

"I'll wait for you here at sundown," Wickham hissed. "I'll tell you the secret of what you have, in exchange for whatever gold and wine you can find between now and then."

And then he was smiling broadly again. "Well, I'll be moving on then. God bless you all."

Elizabeth should have been angry and upset with Lydia, but the usual job of Lydia's talking-to fell on Jane's lot that day, as Elizabeth was too confused to be up to the task.

Who was that strange man, Wickham? How did he have something that matched her protective token? It was impossible, and yet, she could not deny what her own eyes had seen.

Elizabeth thought of her Visions. If she went to meet Wickham, maybe he would unlock them for her. He would be able to explain something to her, at the very least. And oh, how Elizabeth longed for clarity! For some way forward from her Visions and confusion and suspicions about hers – and everyone else's – memory loss.

It was with all these thoughts swirling in her head that Elizabeth managed to just barely get through her day's chores. She left the job of punishing Lydia entirely to Jane.

The whole day, Elizabeth debated whether to give into temptation and go find Wickham at sundown. She knew all the dangers associated with such a liaison. There was nothing remotely trustworthy about that man. In addition to that, she would have to take the coins she had been saving for herself and her sisters to get through difficult times; they all well knew that chances of marriage for any of them - even beautiful, kind Jane - were slim, with a dead mother and absent father. Aside from the expense, the fog had dangerously thickened. They were not to venture far, especially when alone on a good day, and this day had all the markings of a very bad day.

Yet. Her protective token brought Elizabeth such comfort and a feeling of safety, and this Wickham had an item to match the symbols. How, then, could he be dangerous? Besides that, Elizabeth thought of her Visions, and ultimately, the thought of having them unlocked was temptation too much to resist.

Just before sundown, Elizabeth took most of her savings. She put on her thick coat, and wrapped a blanket around her for added measure. She took no wine with her, but instead hid a strong knife in her coat. She then lit a bag of herbs to stave away the ogres, and took a torch with her to light once a safe distance away from the village. That was all the precautions she could make, aside from trying to be aware and having her wits about her.

Elizabeth quietly slipped out not through the gate, but through a hole in the fence due to some worn-out pieces of timber. She had to claw her way out of the deep trench, and came out on the other side with the hem of her coat dripping with mud. She walked, as quietly as she could, listening to forest around her. The trick to avoiding ogres was to hear them before they heard you.

Before she ventured too far, Elizabeth heard a slow rustling ahead of her that brought her to a halt. She was barely halfway from the village, and ogres were never known to come this close. Still, her heart beating wildly, Elizabeth reached to draw out her knife.

"I can hear you, miss. If but you stand still, you will see me soon," said a deep male voice, somewhere in the fog ahead of her. "I mean no harm."

Elizabeth gulped, hand still on her knife. This was not Wickham's voice. And that voice…

Rooted to her spot, Elizabeth waited. She saw the silhouette of a man coming out of the fog. Her attention was focused almost entirely on the man who walked towards her. He was probably no more than thirty but had about him a natural authority. Although he was dressed simply, as a farmer might be, he did not look like anyone else in the village. It was not just the way he had swept his cloak over one shoulder, revealing his belt and the handle of his sword. Nor was it simply that he had a strong build and was taller than any man in the village. His dark hair was longer than any of the villagers' - it hung almost down to his shoulders and he had tied some of it with a strap to prevent it swaying over his eyes.

In fact, the actual thought that crossed Elizabeth's mind was that this man had to tie his hair to stop it falling across during combat. This thought had come to her quite naturally, and only on reflection did it startle her, for it had carried with it an element of recognition. Moreover, when the man, striding towards her, allowed his hand to fall and rest on the sword handle, Elizabeth had felt, almost tangibly, a peculiar mix of comfort, excitement, and fear such a movement could bring.

It was the bearing of the man, the way he moved and held himself. No matter that he tries to pass himself off as an ordinary farmer, Elizabeth thought, he is a warrior. A Saxon warrior. One capable of wreaking great devastation if and when he wishes it. She just knew this, somehow.

Elizabeth gulped again. She told herself that she would return to these curious sensations at some later point. For now, she had to shut them out of her mind.

The warrior's lips curled up into a very odd smile. He looked her up and down with such intensity that Elizabeth blushed, and dropped her eyes when she recalled the state of her coat. When she looked up, Elizabeth saw that he was now gazing intently at her, as though some mark on her face greatly fascinated him.

"What a very odd place to run into you, Princess," he said, in flawless Brittonic.

So affronted was Elizabeth that her jaw dropped open. "You speak my language well, sir," Elizabeth bristled, "but you are surely from a land far, far, very far away if you think this is how a princess dresses."

The warrior went on staring, studying Elizabeth and she took a step backward, bewildered by the continued scrutiny. She could not comprehend the meaning in his eyes, and therefore glared in response.

Finally, the warrior caught himself and bowed deeply.

"Forgive me, madam," he said stiffly. "I thought for a moment…but forgive me. Living as I do far away in the fenlands… please excuse my error." He spun around and walked away into the fog.

A/N: In my haste to post the last chapter, I failed to mention what 'The Buried Giant' was. It's a novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, and if you read just one booky by him, let it be this one (and NOT 'Never Let Me Go' ).

Also, if you haven't already read it, maybe hold off for a bit so that this story will be all the more fresher for you, though I'm not using the identical plotline.