Disclaimer: see ch. 1!
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As the winter grew colder, the unrest in Albion grew hotter. Raids became more and more frequent; small parties of Woads would appear in the middle of the night, screaming and burning as they ran through the darkness. They killed, looted, and destroyed, turning towns into pyres before they left. The roads grew dangerous as these same Woads began to attack travelers, killing or maiming them and taking their posessions.
The knights of the round table were kept busy; they patrolled constantly, escorting travelers when they crossed paths and attempting to hunt down the raiding Woad parties. Branwyr, Dagonet, and Daniel graduated to full-fledged knights and were given seats at the table—not that the almost-daily meetings around the table took place anymore, as the knights were too busy. Guinevere gave birth to her second son shortly after midwinter, adding to the collection of temporarily fatherless children that spent their days in the main room of Vanora's tavern for lack of a better place to go; these children included Vanora's brood of thirteen, Cymbeline's triplets, and the older of Guinevere's two sons, Amr.
Once her children were about four months old, Cymbeline rejoined the activities of the other knights. She went on short patrols, and took over the training of the six youngest potential knights, allowing Kei to spend more time outside the walls hunting the Woads. The hero of the British rebels was a warrior named Ysbadaddon. His reputation was terrifying, and he used that to his advantage.
"Good morning," Guinevere greeted the knights around the table. The weary warriors stared dully at the queen, who looked just about as exhausted as they did, with her newborn cradled in her arms.
"We have news of Ysbadaddon," Kei said. "There are rumors that he has joined with Morgana, a Celtic witch. The rumors say that the two of them have terrorized much of the territory above the wall, subjecting the villages to their tyranny."
"The real question is why," Cymbeline piped up. "Why are they doing this? What do they want?"
"They say they want Arthur deposed if—I mean, when he returns," Kei replied, flushing at the slip-up.
"That's not going to happen," Guinevere shook her head.
"It could very well happen, if they get enough support," Bedivere replied. "We don't want to think of it, but more and more villages are moving to support Ysbadaddon, as are the local governors. The last one holding out above the wall is your father, Leodegrance, in Camellaird."
Guinevere sighed. "We must support him, then. We cannot allow Ysbadaddon to take Camellaird."
"We have neither the means or the method to support him," Cymbeline replied. "We hardly have enough warriors to defend this fort, much less another. Nearly a third of Ganis's guard has fallen fighting the Woads here, and we only have four knights who could go on such a mission. And they're needed here; if the knights left the fort, the Woads would undoubtedly attack it."
"Not to mention what it would probably do to the morale of the fort," Dinadan piped up. "People are scared. They don't feel safe. If we sent fighters, especially a significant number of knights, to the north, I doubt they would handle it well."
Guinevere frowned at the information, but Bedivere interrupted before she could speak: "We should continue to monitor the situation in the north as best we can. If things escalate, or if Ysbadaddon takes Camellaird, we will have to revisit the idea of sending a party to the north."
Guinevere nodded reluctantly, accepting the young healer's advice. "Alright. For now, that is what we'll do."
And so, as the winter snow fell heavy on Britain, the knights settled in for the winter and waited.
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Very little information reached the fort from the north, and much of it was so long outdated that it was useless to the knights. The first piece of useful information came directly from a messenger of Ysbadaddon and Morgana, who arrived in the month after midwinter. Guinevere received him in the courtyard of the villa. She stood in the doorway of the house, wind whipping at her hair, cloak, and dress. Bedivere stood to one side, looking menacing thanks to his sturdy and muscular stature, while Kei stood to the other, glowering at the haughty messenger. Cymbeline slipped into the courtyard with Branwyr and Dagonet to watch the exchange.
"You are the Woad queen, wife of Arthur Castus?" the messenger eyed Guinevere dubiously.
"I am Guinevere," the queen replied. Cymbeline had to admit that despite any shortcomings the queen might have, she could certainly play a part well.
"I am a messenger of the great Ysbadaddon, hero of the Woad people!" the messenger cried. "I come bearing a message from my lord."
"Well, we're just dying to hear it," Kei grumbled.
The messenger shot Kei a vicious glare and whipped a bloody sack out from under his heavy cloak. Cymbeline's hand flew to her knife and she felt Branwyr move beside her as the messenger lifted the sack aloft. "Ysbadaddon wishes to inform the Woad queen that she has failed her people! This is a warning: if she does not concede to him, she will not live to see her husband's return!"
The next few moments were a blur of action. The messenger flung the bag towards Guinevere's feet, and Bedivere pushed the queen into the house. Kei jumped in front of them both, drawing his sword. Cymbeline leapt for the messenger, tackling him hard, a knife in hand. She straddled him on the ground, one of her feet on his wrist and the other clasped in her own hand; one of her knives was in hand and pressed against the man's throat. Seconds later, Branwyr and Dagonet were at her sides; they grabbed the man's arms and hauled him to his feet once Cymbeline slipped off of his back.
Crossly, Guinevere pushed past Bedivere and Kei, staring curiously at the sack. Cymbeline moved to open it, shaking its contents out: a head, topped with dirty, tangled, dark hair dropped to the flagstones, bouncing slightly and rolling until it stopped on the severed neck. Guinevere gasped, a hand flying to cover her mouth; the head belonged to Merlin, her old friend and the ambassador between the northern Woads and Arthur's court.
Guinevere stared furiously at the man behind Cymbeline. "Kill him."
Cymbeline raised her knife and turned in one fluid motion, slicing the sharp blade across the man's neck. He slumped between Branwyr and Dagonet as brilliant red blood spurted from the cut in his neck, flowing down his chest and stomach to drip on the ground.
Guinevere looked at the assembled townspeople and guards outside and around the courtyard. "This man came bearing a message and a threat to me, and to all of us! He said that if we did not surrender, he would kill us. He even brought the head of a great man in an attempt to frighten us into submission. Well, this is my response: we will not bow to Ysbadaddon! We will not fall prey to his tyranny, or his threats, or his scare tactics! We are strong, and we will not falter!"