A/N: See bottom of chapter.
Disclaimer: See first chapter.
.*.*.*.*.*.
As spring began to melt the heavy winter snows around the fort, the knights once again began to patrol deeper into the nearby forest. They remained on the southern side of the wall, for the most part, until word reached them from travelers from the north that Nimue and Morgana had withdrawn to the very northernmost parts of Caledonia. Once this news reached the fort, a discussion was begun among the queen, her knights, and her father about returning him to Camellaird.
"With Morgana and Nimue in the far north, it'll be much less dangerous to return Leodegrance and Guinaelle to Camellaird," said Kei.
"Much less dangerous, yes, but still quite treacherous," Cullwch argued. "Even though Morgana and Nimue have withdrawn north, their influence still extends farther south than I think we realize. Even beyond the wall, we're still seeing their impact."
"Cullwch is right," said Cymbeline. "We've seen as many of their raiding parties wreaking havoc across Albion and Caledonia as we did while Ysbadaddon was still in command of his armies—and I do say his armies specifically, because I highly doubt that Morgana gave up control of hers to him, if her reputation is any indication of her personality. There is no doubt in my mind that Morgana still wields considerable power in the north, even if reports say that she has withdrawn."
"But if I do not return to Camellaird, and soon, I fear that I may lose the support of my people there," Leodegrance spoke up. "I must get back, or you will lose your last true ally in the north. And if and when Arthur does finally return to Britain, he'll need more than a few scattered tribesmen and what's left of Merlin's forces to take back the north—or even just to fight off Morgana. This isn't a Saxon horde; these aren't soldiers who were fierce but unused to our land. These are Woad warriors, born and raised on this island. They know its tricks, its corners and nooks and crannies. They know how to blend in with the forests, attack, and be gone before you even know that they were there to begin with!"
"We can't risk another journey north," Cymbeline shot back. "Last time, Ysbadaddon only let us get away so he'd have a better excuse to attack us here. In that battle, we lost seven men, and over a dozen more were wounded. Dagonet lost his hand! And almost the entirety of that fight was from a distance; the only hand-to-hand combat was the fight over the gate, where Dagonet was injured."
"And in the skirmishes we've had with Morgana's forces since then, I've lost a lot more men," Ganis spoke up as soon as Cymbeline stopped to take a breath. "I'm running out of people who want to join up for the guard. There's not hardly even anyone I could recruit if it came to that."
"We just don't have the manpower to return you to Camellaird," Kei sighed.
"Trust me, my lord—it's not that we want you to be stuck here, there's just no practical way for us to take you home," Dinadan sighed.
"They're right, father," Guinevere said softly, resting a hand on her father's arm. "We do want to get you home, and you're right, we'll need your help to fight back Morgana—but it's just not possible for us to go into the north right now. If anything happened, to you or the ones we sent with you, or if Morgana attacked Camelot while they were gone…"
Leodegrance settled back into his chair and sighed. "I know, my dear," he patted Guinevere's hand. "I am just… afraid, is all. I'm afraid that if I wait too much longer, there won't be a home for me to go back to. And once that happens, I'm afraid that this place… won't be a home for anyone anymore."
.*.*.*.*.*.
As soon as the warmth of spring began to melt the snows on the coast of Gaul, Arthur and the Sarmatians began to plan their next step.
"Hopefully, the ships will be starting soon," Arthur said, looking around the small fireside circle. He suppressed a slight smile as the similarities between the scene and his round table struck him.
"Now the choice we have is to wait until ships from this port begin to sail north again, or to travel north by land for the ferries across the channel to Britain," Ban mused aloud.
"Well, which has more benefits?" Helaine asked practically.
"The travel by land could take as long as the sea voyage," Pellinore said. "Especially with the mud from the melting snow and the spring rains."
"The sea voyage might wind up being easier, then," said Galeschin. "We wouldn't have to worry about the carts getting stuck or breaking wheels or axles, or the horses getting hurt."
"But it will be expensive," Ban said. "Passage for all of us, as well as the horses? Even if we sold the carts, we'd need new ones to travel across Britain."
"And a long sea voyage would be… not attractive to many of us," Galahad said, already looking queasy.
"By many of us, you mean you?" Gawain grinned, nudging Galahad in the ribs with his elbow.
"I'm sure there are other people here who get seasick," Galahad snapped.
"Anyways," Arthur quickly steered the conversation back to its original point.
"The sea voyage seems the better option," Ban said. "If we think the timing will be similar, it saves the horses and the carts, if we can come up with the fee for it."
Galahad groaned softly, lowering his head to his hands. Laughing, Gawain patted him on the back and stood up. "Come on. We'll check with the harbormaster and see if he has any news on the ships resuming."
.*.*.*.*.*.
A few months after their discussion about returning Leodegrance to Camellaird, an unexpected visitor arrived at the fort. It was the end of a long week that had seen several guerilla attacks from Morgana's forces, and the knights were seated at the round table for the first time in days. They were going over the events of the week, when Jols hurried into the room.
"What is it?" Guinevere asked.
"There's someone here to see the queen," Jols replied, bowing slightly.
"Who is it?" Guinevere asked.
"A Woad chieftain from the north," Jols replied. "He didn't give his name, but says that he wants to help Arthur deal with Morgana."
Guinevere glanced around the table, her gaze settling on her father. "Show him in," she said finally, turning her attention back to Jols and the doorway.
Jols bowed slightly and hurried back out, only to return a few moments later. Following him was a tall, broad-shouldered man with sand-colored hair. He wore a familiar tartan wrapped around his shoulders—tan, brown, and red—and had sparkling green eyes that didn't show the age evident in the wrinkles on his face or the grey in his hair. As soon as he came into sight, Bedivere's jaw dropped.
"Father?" Bedivere stood, pushing his chair back.
"Hello, Beds," the man grinned at the knight before turning towards the other side of the table. "King Leodegrance," he bowed, "Queen Guinevere."
Guinevere inclined her head towards him. "And you are..?"
"Jorah Cunobelin," the man drew himself up to his full height. "Chieftan of clan Cunobelin."
"Deposed chieftain," Bedivere said.
"A minor detail," Jorah grinned.
"'Minor'?" Guinevere repeated. "That doesn't seem like a 'minor' detail to me."
"Many years ago, Uther Castus and his knights led an attack on my father, King Cymbeline," Jorah explained. "He and his oldest son, Adi, were killed in that attack, but my mother fled with me and my elder brother, Rhience. My father's younger brother, Caradoc, took control of the clan—you see, Caradoc had brought false information to Uther that Cymbeline was going to lead a coalition of Woads to attack the wall and this fort, and that the only way Uther could stop this was to lead an attack against Cymbeline first. Caradoc did this because he wanted to rule, and once my oldest brother was born, much less Rhience and myself, he never had a chance."
"That… hardly seems possible," Guinevere shook her head. "Caradoc has been one of Arthur's greatest supporters in the north."
"Yes, but not at first," Leodegrance said. "He fought Merlin every step of the way on turning to Arthur for help in dealing with the Saxons. It was only once they invaded and started wiping out the people of his clan that he finally—and very begrudgingly—agreed that we should look south for aid. Even when Arthur was declared king, Caradac was reluctant to voice his support."
"He only truly lent his full support to Arthur when Arthur's popularity became too great to oppose any longer," Jorah added. "He didn't have a choice any more after that."
"So what do you want us to do?" Guinevere asked. "Even if Caradoc is a false friend, he is still a friend. We can't exactly go and attack him now, not that we could spare the men to help you anyways."
"My apologies, my queen; that's not what I was asking for," Jorah said respectfully. "I have the warriors. My people will support me. All I want is someone to support my claim. A name to back me, if you will. If I have the support of Arthur—and Leodegrance—who will challenge me once I take back what's mine?"
"Arthur isn't here," Guinevere arched an eyebrow. "Surely you've heard. He can't exactly support your claim if he's not even in Britain."
"But you can," Jorah smiled, "and your word is just as good as his. I already have the support of Brutus, Taliesin, and Cador, all Woad kings above the wall—but with your support, no-one would dare challenge me."
Guinevere was silent for a long minute. "Is there any proof that you are the rightful head of your clan?"
"Everyone knows," Leodegrance said. "Everyone knows that Cymbeline was killed by Uther Castus because the Romans believed that he was plotting against them—all of us in the north knew that it was a lie, but we couldn't exactly do anything. Caradoc took over immediately. Since Cymbeline's sons were so young, no-one argued him. But when both of them and their children went missing many years later… Well, by that time, Caradoc had solidified his rule to such an extent that no-one dared to argue him."
"He sent men after me and Rhience," Jorah explained. "They killed Rhience and we thought his daughter"—he cast a glance towards Cymbeline—"but my sons and I managed to escape him. They continued to come after us for years, which is why I sent my youngest son to Merlin and my other two boys to Cador, for their own safety."
Guinevere sighed. "In that case—if you are truly the rightful chieftain of clan Cunobelin—we will support you. But our support will have to be in word only; as I said earlier, we don't have the men to send with you."
Jorah nodded, but paused before speaking. "It's not men I would ask for," he said finally, "but I would appreciate it if you let me take my sons and my niece with me."
Before he had even finished speaking, Guinevere was shaking her head. "I'm afraid we can't spare them. Cymbeline and Bedivere are knights; we need them desperately here. I'm not going to lie; Morgana has been running us ragged with attacks by her men. Their frequency is starting to increase again, and I need every man and woman that I have."
"What about Lucan and Griflet?" Jorah pursued.
Guinevere paused. "They're not technically knights," she admitted, "but I do need them."
"Sending them along would be a good way of showing your support of Jorah's claim," Kei said slowly.
"We could manage without two trainees for a few weeks," Cymbeline said reluctantly.
"And it's not like they wouldn't get training of a sort with Jorah," Bedivere sighed. "Not if he's planning to retake the clan."
Guinevere nodded. "You promise to return them unharmed."
"Well, they are my sons," Jorah grinned charmingly. "I certainly will do my best."
.*.*.*.*.*.
The sea voyage to Britain was rough, especially for Galahad. As it turned out, he was the only one of the Sarmatians who got incapacitatingly seasick. Dindrane sat below decks with him most of the time, making sure that he drank water, at least occasionally, and even forced broth down his throat upon the rare instances that he stopped either vomiting or dry heaving.
The landing in Britain was well-received by the entire company. Upon disembarking the ship, they headed for the outskirts of town to set up camp for the night, or until Arthur could arrange transport.
"I'm so glad to be on dry land again," Dindrane closed her eyes and smiled, turning her face upwards so that the rain sprinkled her cheeks.
"Dry being a relative term," Gawain grinned.
"Well," Dindrane laughed. "You know what I mean."
"And what's your first impression of Britain?" Gawain asked.
"It doesn't seem so bad as you and Galahad are always saying," Dindrane grinned.
"Well, give it another fifteen years," Gawain teased. "You might change your mind."
"You didn't," Dindrane teased.
"I did," Gawain said. "I just decided I didn't mind it so much as I'd thought."
.*.*.*.*.*.
A/N: So, side notes here: Clan Cunobelin is made up. Cunobelin is another form of Cymbeline. Cymbeline was an actual king in Britain, around AD 10-40, I believe. He had three sons, one of which is a possible historical counterpart for Caradoc. He did also have a brother, but since I'd already created characters for his three sons and wanted to include the character of Caradoc somehow, I decided to use him as Cymbeline's brother. Also, you may have remembered that in the first chapter, I said that Bedivere was Lucan and Griflet's cousin (I think that was a typo to begin with anyways), but when I started thinking about this story again I was thinking of them all as brothers, so that was how I wrote it. Also, I called Cymbeline Gawain's wife in that first chapter, but they aren't actually married yet.
Another note: I have been referring to Breton as a language/people group in Britain. However, I've clearly forgotten everything I learned in linguistics class, because the Breton language and people are actually in/from modern-day France. So, sorry about that, but it's too late to change it now, so oh well.