Back in the hut, Jane helped Ygerna prepare another pot of mutton stew. At first, Ygerna had tried to dissuade her guest, but Jane had simply laughed lightly and picked up a knife to cut meat. Ygerna baked more bread and carefully seasoned the new stew with the sea salt Emrys had brought from the village.

Ishihara had gone outside to cut more firewood in the twilight. Emrys stacked the pieces. Wayne alternately paced outside restlessly and sat on a stool inside the hut. The children, now growing accustomed to their visitors, paid less attention to them.

As she cut chunks of mutton, Jane tried to decide how to proceed. Now that she knew Hunter and Steve had joined the troop of riders, she could try to get their attention. On the other hand, Wayne and Ishihara surely knew she hoped to do that. When they went to the village tomorrow, she expected Ishihara would become even more attentive to her than usual to prevent her from escaping. Her greatest fear was that Wayne would leave her here with Ishihara. Then she would have no chance.

Wayne and Ishihara came inside the hut, followed by Emrys. Jane glanced up but said nothing. Emrys closed the door behind him.

“Shall I tell Jane?” Ishihara asked Wayne.

“Might as well.” Wayne shrugged.

“I have spoken with Emrys about tomorrow,” said Ishihara. “Based on the number of ewes pregnant in his flock, he has decided to take more sheep to the village tomorrow. We will go with him to look for MC 6.”

“Okay.” Jane shrugged, feigning indifference. Actually, she was deeply relieved. Apparently they were going to take her; that meant she might have a chance to get away.

When the main doors of the palace opened, Steve tensed with excitement. Six men came out, wearing now-familiar plain wool tunics and leather boots and leggings; a servant inside closed the doors again. Both sentries stood up alertly.

The man in front smiled at the sentries. “Good evening, men. Did I wake you?”

Drustan and Aetius both laughed and shook their heads, their admiration for him evident in their faces.

“No, sir, Riothamus,” said Drustan. “Not us.”

“Well, I know this is boring duty. I did my turns on watch when I was young.”

Steve tried to get a good look at Artorius Riothamus in the flickering torchlight. He seemed to be in his early thirties, of average height and a medium build. His shoulder-length hair was light brown, as was the narrow, neatly clipped beard along his jawline.

“Good evening, sir,” said Bedwyr politely. He, too, looked fascinated.

“Good evening to you.” Artorius looked at him in the uneven torchlight. “Ah, Bedwyr, isn’t it? You lead one of the scouting patrols.”

“That’s right, sir.”

Artorius looked at Steve. “I don’t believe I know you, friend.”

“I, uh-”

“This is Steve, a man from the eastern end of the Roman Empire,” said Bedwyr. “He and a friend from Linnuis have joined Lucius’s troop.”

“Ah! I’m glad to hear it. Welcome, Steve.”

“Thank you,” Steve said shyly.

“Have you and your friend ridden before? Can you sit a horse?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Artorius laughed lightly and gave Steve a pat on the shoulder as he passed. “We need you.” He and his entourage walked on down the street.

Steve turned to watch him go. Artorius was personable and unpretentious, but he also came across as reserved, confident, and supportive of his men. Steve liked him and realized that this personal magnetism, combined with his military successes, helped create the legend that grew after his death.

“Still ready for another drink?” Bedwyr asked him cheerfully.

“Sure.”

Harriet had accepted the invitation of Gwenhyvaer, the young woman she had befriended, to her small room. She had recognized the name as the original Welsh from which the more modern

“Guinevere” had been derived. Now a fire burned brightly in a stone fireplace; candles lit the corners of the room. The two women sat on each side of the stone hearth, with fur lap-robes keeping their legs warm.

Gwenhyvaer was stitching the hem of a gown by the firelight. Watching her, Harriet decided that Gwenhyvaer was even younger than Harriet had first thought. Most likely, she was still in her late teens, which made her an adult in this culture.

“How many children do you have?” Gwenhwyvaer asked, glancing up from her sewing.

“Uh-none.” Because she and Hunter had not discussed that question, she was caught unprepared.

“No?” Gwenhwyvaer’s eyes widened in surprise.

Harriet shrugged, suppressing a smile. “No.”

“Oh, my. Did they…I mean, did they die young? Or you never had any?”

“I never had any.”

“That’s so sad. How does your husband feel about this? Doesn’t he want sons?”

“We no longer worry about it,” said Harriet. “It’s all right.”

“I hope I have children who grow up.” Gwenhyvaer smiled shyly. “My father says Artorius likes me. He’s hoping to arrange for us to be married.”

Harriet smiled at her youthful embarrassment. “You must love him.”

She giggled. “Every woman I know does, I think. At least, the younger ones.”

“Has your father been with Artorius long?”

“Oh, yes. He’s been advising him on Roman cavalry tactics. My father is part Roman. He served in the legions in Gaul until about ten years ago. So did his father, before the legions left Britain. He was stationed up by Hadrian’s Wall, on the Pictish border.”

“I see. You come from a long line of soldiers.”

Gwenhwyvaer nodded soberly. “The men will be going on campaign soon. My grandfather died in a battle. I wish my father would stay home.”

“He still rides with Artorius, then?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “But of course he needs my father. The Saxons keep coming and coming. Father says Artorius must ride out and fight them on their land, not wait for them to march here.”

Harriet stifled a yawn and glanced at the sleep pallet that servants had prepared for her. With the fire nearby, and using the fur lap-robe as a coverlet, she would be warm here tonight. For now, however,. she would stay up talking as late as her hostess wished.

Looking at Gwenhwyvaer, Harriet thought to herself that this teenager could not possibly ever imagine the kind of role she would play in Arthurian legend, fictional though it would become-or across how many centuries she would be remembered, at least in some form.

Jane found the morning routine at the hut the same as the day before. Everyone at the hut ate breakfast and Emrys picked out which sheep he would drive to the village. The only difference, as Emrys drove the cart behind the small flock again, was that he did not take any more firewood. Jane guessed that his family had no more wood to spare. Without the need to load the cart, they left earlier than they had yesterday.

On the way, Jane watched the main gate of the tor ahead, to see the troop of riders again. This time, however, the riders did not leave before Emrys brought his small flock and the cart up to the gate. As they started up the steep, cobbled road to the village, Jane saw the riders gather around some sort of storage building and the paddock, saddling their horses and leading them toward the gate. She could not see Hunter and Steve in the crowd, so she assumed they were inside the building.

“I want to ask Emrys to stop,” Ishihara said suddenly to Wayne. “Do I have your permission?”

“Of course,” said Wayne.

Jane tensed.

Steve stood behind Hunter just inside the tack building, waiting in line to pick up their saddles and bridles. They had just finished a bland but plentiful breakfast of hot cereal; Hunter identified wheat and barley in it. Then they had walked down the slope, where Hunter had picked up his leather armor from the armorer and laced it on.

Steve’s arms and shoulders were sore from the unaccustomed exercise the previous day.

“Hunter, by the time this is over, I’ll be in great shape.” He grinned and moved up with the line. “Do you think we should stay with the troop even though MC 6 isn’t in it?” He lowered his voice. “Maybe we could try for duty in the village, to be nearer the palace.”

Hunter turned, looking over Steve’s head out the open door behind them.

“What is it?”

“Silence, please,” Hunter said quietly.

Steve waited patiently, though other men continued to talk around them. Horses snorted and their hooves clopped outside. Steve guessed that Hunter was attempting to sort out some other sound, but he had no idea what it could be.

“Come outside with me,” said Hunter. He left the line and moved back toward the door. The men behind him made room for him and Steve followed closely.

“What is it?” Steve asked quietly.

“I heard the footstep pattern of Wayne Nystrom nearby.”

“Yeah?” Suddenly excited, Steve hurried out the door after him. “Jane must be close.”

Hunter stopped abruptly. Steve did, too, when he saw Wayne simply walking right up to them with a smirk. He seemed to be alone.

“Where’s Jane?” Steve demanded.

“Don’t worry. You know Ishihara can’t allow any harm to come to her.”

“Yeah? He’s not here to protect you.” Angrily, Steve took a step toward him. Before he took a second step, however, he felt Hunter take his upper arm from behind and hold him firmly in place.

“Stop,” Hunter added calmly.

“Where is she?” Steve demanded again.

“Why have you approached us?” Hunter asked. “Do you have something to say?”

“I certainly do.” Wayne grinned. “Let’s negotiate a little.”

“On what basis?”

“I’ve been here a week. That’s given me time to start a routine here, to get settled. And to make a few friends. I’m not desperate here, as I was in Roman Germany.”

“You say you’ve been here a week,” said Steve. “Does that mean you sent Jane and Ishihara somewhere else?”

“No comment,” said Wayne, snickering. “But I remind you that Ishihara follows my instructions. I intend to hold Jane hostage in return for MC 6, if you should find him before I do. And he must be untouched and unexamined.”

“I understand your terms,” said Hunter.

“You can’t just accept that,” Steve said hotly, looking up at him.

“I cannot endanger Jane,” said Hunter. “You know that, of course.”

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” said Wayne. “But I warn you not to follow me to find anyone. If we have to jump through time to get away from you, I may not make an offer like this again.”