It was not but shortly after their farewell to Raywold the Saxon-turned-pirate that the British coastline appeared on the horizon. Tarra's sickly, green-tinted face betrayed that she certainly did not lament the voyage's conclusion.

"You feeling alright, captain?" inquired Ganis in his usual cheery tone.

"Yes, yes, I am fine," answered Tarra unconvincingly. Her stomach lurched with queasiness. 'I am never, never leaving dry land again,' she thought.

"Where do you intend on staying once we reach port? If you like, I know the owner of an inn right at the harbor---"

"Oh that won't be necessary," interrupted Tarra, still clutching her stomach with one hand, "I have---business---to attend to."

"Alright then," answered Ganis, somewhat disappointed, "But really it's a very nice inn, very well kept. Guaranteed to be cleaned once a week, which regrettably can't be said for most of these places. There's a nice bar downstairs, too. Very good lot of people."

"I assure you I am in no need of residence," Tarra replied, growing impatient with Ganis' insistence. Cursed gods, that man was most verbose.

When the ship finally reached port, Tarra attempted to very quickly and evasively depart from the ship unnoticed, but as fates would have it, Ganis followed closely at her heels.

"Where you headed, captain?" Ganis inquired.

"Hadrian's Wall," Tarra muttered in response. She walked hurriedly, not even pausing or turning to him as she answered. Couldn't this kid take a hint?

"Sir! I am very well acquainted with the location you seek! I would happily accompany you on your journey to show you the way. It won't take us but a day's ride on horseback to reach it," Ganis offered with his relentless enthusiasm.

Tarra sighed, "Listen, you very scrawny man with an oddly shaped head! I am going to Hadrian's Wall. By myself! In solitude! ALONE!" Ganis shrunk back, his mouth agape at the rebuke from one he seemed to admire, which immediately filled Tarra with regret at her short temper and sharp tongue. "Look," Tarra said with more compassion, "I greatly appreciate your devoted assistance as first mate, but I am in a terrible hurry, so I must say adieu." With that, Tarra tipped her hat and took her leave.

"Captain!" Ganis called after her, "Will I ever see you again?"

Tarra laughed, "Ganis, I am a snake that all too readily sheds its skin and I fear, though we may meet again, you would all too easily fail to recognize my person."

"Is that another riddle?" Ganis asked, not quite understanding her meaning.

"That's the truth," Tarra called back to him and continued on her way.

---------

Once inside the gates of Hadrian's Wall, Tarra winced in pain as she dismounted the horse she had borrowed without permission from the port's stables. A very long time had passed since she had ridden a horse, and to find herself once again seated upon said animal and riding a full day at a steady pace was no happy reunion for her now very sore legs. In Arabia, she had accustomed herself to the lazy bobbing of the camel's back, yet she had to admit she found the horse's temperament far more amiable than the camels' stubbornness.

Tarra had discarded her captain's hat, but kept the rest of the masculine attire, as she had nothing else with which to clothe herself. The trousers were certainly too big, and her bulky black leather belt fought a considerable battle to prevent them from sliding down her hips. Tarra's tied her dark hair loosely at the back of her head with stray strands falling forward across her face. She looked ridiculous.

Tarra chose her steps carefully, lurking in the shadows and evading any unwanted attention. She almost burst out laughing at her own absurdity when the realization struck her that it was not as though any of these townspeople would recognize her. Then again, it was probably best not to give them the opportunity to recognize her in the future.

Tarra shrunk back behind a corner when she noticed a line of knights on horseback entering through the gates. She spied on them carefully, keeping herself well-hidden. She noticed a woman, clearly native to the country, riding at the front of the procession next to the leader who she assumed was the very renowned and soon to be very dead King Arthur. A bald knight farther back in the train suddenly roared, "A Christian!" Tarra then observed as the rest of the knights laughed heartily as another of their comrades rode forward to join Arthur and the woman who rode by his side.

'I hate it when I don't get the joke,' Tarra thought to herself as she stalked the knights from the entrance gates into the Tavern. By the fates, this was the oddest conglomeration of men in arms she had ever witnessed. The roaring bald knight was promptly ambushed by an army of half-sized warriors he greeted as "his bastards." The knight who had ridden up beside Arthur now took the woman's hand in his, and they followed the rest of the knights into the tavern. 'And you,' thought Tarra, now staring directly at the man with the scraggly, braided hair, 'are dead man number two.'

Tarra wondered why Lucia wanted this second man dead along with Arthur. She could postulate as to the various reasons why any powerful Roman would organize the assassination of the king of a former Roman territory, but what of this other man, Tristan? What had been his offense of such severity that he now carried a death mark over his head? Even more importantly, why did she care? Tarra shook her mind of all pointless questions and began concentrating on the circumstances of the present.

Unfortunately, as soon as the questions fled her mind, in crept the doubts. As was afore mentioned, Tarra had never before actually assassinated anyone, at least not in the murdering sense of the word. Oh, this was just rubbish talk! Tarra had never been a thief until she had stolen. How was this any different?

The knights filed into the tavern, filling their mugs with whiskey until it overflowed onto the dirt floor. Tarra took on the role of apparition, haunting the tavern as the knights drank and made merry.

"Hey Gawain," Galahad slurred.

"What?" Gawain asked, turning his drunken, rosy-cheeked face to his comrade.

"Balls!" cried Galahad, laughing hysterically at his wit. Gawain, in the state of inebriation that appreciates such drollery, returned Galahad's laughter in kind.

"Hey Bors! Come here!" called Gawain, sloshing the mug of whiskey in his hand as he motioned Bors over to their table.

"What?"

"Say balls!"

"Balls."

Galahad giggled, "Baaaaalls!"

Gawain roared with laughter, which proved to be contagious for soon Bors was howling right along with them.

"Arthur!" called Bors, "Arthur! Say balls!"

"Balls?" was his commander's reply.

"Hmm," Bors commented, "It ain't as funny when he says it."

"Balls!" Galahad blurted out mid-hiccup.

"You're all a bunch of children," Tristan said as he and Jillian made their way to be seated at the table with the rest of the knights.

"C'mon, Jillian. You know you wanna say it. Just once. C'mon," urged Gawain as he chuckled in anticipation into his mug of whiskey.

Jillian raised an eyebrow, smirked, and replied, "To say that, I'd have to be nuts."

"Did someone say nuts?" asked the beaming Lancelot who had sauntered over to join the merriment.

"Tha's not a very say thing to lady-like," spoke the ever coherent Galahad, "Oh, and also, balls!"

"Speaking of children, Jillian, you really must start putting on some weight," interrupted Vanora, "By the look of you, no one could guess you were almost two months pregnant." There was much truth to what Vanora said. If anything, Jillian had become even thinner since the start of her pregnancy and paler, too. Tristan put a protective arm around her waist, "She's right, you know."

'Oh, that's just sickening,' Tarra thought to herself, repulsed by the tender affection she had to suffer through witnessing. She praised heaven when Arthur stood from his seat and appeared ready to make a solitary retreat. This was her chance. Jillian held her breath.

"Arthur!" called Gawain, appalled by Arthur's attempted abandonment, "Where are you going?"

"You are a stupid drunk, Gawain," said Lancelot starting to feel the effects of the liquor himself, "You know he has a wife now that needs pleasing at this time of the night."

"Very funny," replied Arthur, always serious and always sober, "If you must know, I have business to attend to at the round table, but don't let my over-zealous work ethic interfere with your cheer. I'll see you all in the morning. Good night."

"Which is code for we'll see you at the round table in quarter of an hour," translated Bors, disappointedly.

"Oh, balls!" sighed lazy-eyed Galahad.

"Ha ha ha! Good one!" laughed Gawain.

Tarra watched as Arthur retreated from the tavern and calculated that not only would she have to make haste to arrive at the round table before Arthur, but she would also have to make haste about killing him before his knights arrived. She was very confident in her abilities, but not that confident. She would be no match for a king and five Sarmatian knights. Tarra scurried through a dark hall and made her way to the round table, which she was relieved to find abandoned. She quickly dove behind a tapestry, expecting Arthur to enter at any moment and wanting to ensure she had the element of surprise.

To her bewilderment, however, a man dressed from head to toe in black attire was also crouched behind the same tapestry. Their eyes met for the briefest instant before each drew their weapons. They struggled momentarily before tumbling out from behind the tapestry with Tarra's knife embedded in the man's throat. Tarra lifted her eyes from the now cadaverous man lying prostrate on the floor and found herself in the presence of King Arthur Castus who was presently staring at her with a rather quizzical look on his face.

"My," she said, her voice cracking nervously as she rose to her feet, "the floor certainly is slippery."

"I suppose," replied Arthur a bit uncertainly, "I should thank you."

"I'm sorry?" Tarra said, extremely confused.

"By the badge around this man's arm, we can clearly deduce that he is an assassin, can we not?" asked Arthur.

"Oh, right. That's exactly why I knifed him in the throat," said Tarra, though what she was really thinking was, 'By the gods, how many people want this man dead?'

At that moment, the door to the hall opened wide and in tumbled the boisterous Sarmatian Knights still warm from their liquor.

"We heard a boom!" announced Galahad, his eyes wide and glazed over. Lancelot and Gawain followed behind Gallahad into the hall and set their drinks down on the table.

"Everything alright in here?" asked Bors who came in next and noticed the inanimate corpse lying on the floor with a dagger protruding from its throat.

"Yes, everything is quite alright thanks to this young lady here," said Arthur, "Pray tell, to whom may I offer my thanks?"

Tarra was not given a chance to answer, for at that moment Tristan strode in with Jillian close behind.

"Tarra," Tristan acknowledged her coldly, with a slight nod of the head.

"Tristan," Tarra replied, matching his bitterness with the tone of her address.

"Wait, you two know each other?" asked Arthur, his head spinning in puzzlement.

Tarra nodded grimly, "He's my brother."