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Morgana let her gaze rest on the young man that Caitrin had pointed out, and her face lit up in a wicked grin. An idea birthed itself in her mind.

"Well, let's both get him!" She laughed as she tried to keep her attention fixed on the dance. "He won't know what's hit him."

It was rather mean. Or was it? At least it spared him the effort of having to make a decision; and Morgana had found that decision making was something that came with great difficulty to most men. To try and relieve herself of the burden of harassing the poor victim, Morgana tried to find someone else. Alas, to no avail.

"Oh dear," She remarked. "Looks like we'll just have to share him between ourselves!" She giggled into her sleeve as she caught the Knight's eye, again. Poor thing. He won't even see them coming. It'll be like a lightning bolt. "Come on, let's get him!"

With no further ado, Morgana pounced on the Knight. She grabbed one of his wrists, and urged Caitrin to grab the other.

"May we have the honour of the next dance?" She asked, trying to sound coy.

Morgana hung on every word the woman spoke, and found her emotions swaying like the storm tossed seas. One minute relieved; the boy was not in any danger. But then alarm would sweep through her, again; the boy was not in any danger.... yet.

"What do you mean by that?" Morgana asked in a low voice as she steered the lady behind the market stall, to somewhere quieter, and out of the way of the bustling crowds. It was approaching high noon, and soon the market would be at it's busiest. "Could it be that Mordred is in imminent danger, soon?"

Morgana thought that she could see something like triumph flicker in the other woman's aged eyes. But, she disregarded it as a trick of the light, a figment of her fraught imagination. Morgana firmly told herself that this was just a kindly, concerned lady, who cared about Mordred as much as she, herself, did.

"Merlin and I, we did the best we could for him," Morgana explained hurriedly. "You have to understand, Uther wanted him dead. He would have no scruples about taking the life of an innocent child. He would even have taken our lives if he knew that we were sheltering him."

Despite the fact that Mordred had conveyed a message that he did not blame either she, or Merlin, she found herself desperate to explain the circumstances all the same. The justification simply tumbled from her lips, and she was powerless to stop it. But nothing would assuage the guilt she felt at not being able to do more to help the Druid boy, or his people.

"You have to understand, my lady," Morgana continued. "Not everyone in Camelot is like Uther. And none can be more opposed to his policies than me. Please, speak freely to me, and be assured that it will go no further. What do you mean when you say he may not be granted the time?"

The fear swelled, and formed a rock-like weight in the pit of her stomach. "Does he need me?" Morgana asked. "Can you take me to him?"

She would need to return, briefly, to the Castle and ask leave. But it would be granted, if she came up with a likely excuse. It had never been a problem in the past.

Awww I can't find my hometown of Liverpool on that map. I guess if I lived in an Athurian legend, I would be near Welshlands and the Perilous Lands (it's still pretty perilous today, as it happens ).

It all happened so fast. Within the beat of a heart. One of the guards shouted at them to run, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth, than there was an arrow deeply embedded in his back, and slumped across his mount, completely dead. Morgana screamed in terror as the rest of the guards were so swiftly subdued. The peace of the countryside rent by shouts, curses, and the soar of the arrows and bolts that swept through the air. The sound of blade on blade had her rigid with fear, struggling to control her horse who tried to bolt from the riot.

It soon became clear the Knights of Camelot were defeated. Morgana, however, barely had a second to contemplate the situation as a pair of rough hands hauled her from the saddle. She glanced around wildly, and realised that someone else had taken Gwen. She fought, lashing out with her legs as best as could, with her arms fast at her sides by the brute who all but immobilised her. She didn't see who struck the man down, but suddenly, he released her from his grip. The same had happened with Gwen. Siezing the initiative, she screamed out to her maid again.

"Gwen!" Her voice was subdued over the clash of the blades. "Run! Get to the woods! Go!"

In a blind panic, the two women ran for their lives. Morgana's heart beat furiously, painfully, against her ribs as ran blindly into the sparse woodlands. Her cloak flapped around her ankles, slowing her progress as she tried to avoid tripping over the hem. Soon, they were surrounded. She had known it was hopelessly. She moved to stand protectively at Gwen's side as a man dismounted his horse. His face was half obscured by a kerchief tied over his jaw.

Fearful, Morgana gripped Gwens hand, steadying herself as much as her maid. Stick together, Morgana thought to herself. We must stick together. As the man drew level with them, Morgana finally found her voice again, as weak and tremulous with fear as it was.

"I warn you, I am Uther Pendragon's ward!" She spoke as boldly as she could, her gaze darting between the faces of the bandits. "If any harm comes to me, he'll have your heads!"

"I have no intention of harming you," The chief bandit replied casually, as he finally removed the kerchief from his face. He seemed relaxed, as though this were a walk in the park. "At least, not yet."

A loose horse bolted through the woods, and Morgana's heart leapt in her throat in alarm, and the fragile grip on her nerve loosened a little further. In terror, she looked for reassurance at Gwen.

Morgana, with a glint in her eye, returned the sword to it's relieved owner. Gosh, could the man not see that they were both naturals? Nevertheless, Morgana disregarded him, turned back to Caitrin, and pulled her back to the heart of the party, where they could prowl the room, and pick out the best looking Knights who they would honour with their hand in a dance. Ocasionally, Morgana would pause as they passed a gaggle of Knights, and look them over appraisingly.

"What about that Gentleman?" She would point to one or the other, but then some minor flaw would manifest itself in the Knight's person, and she would wrinkle her nose and walk on by, with her arm still firmly locked through Caitrin's. "Heavens!" She exclaimed in exasperation. "This is hopeless!"

All around them, the music swelled again as the party continued apace. Various Knights and other Gentlemen watched the two ladies, their eyes glittering through the gloom, tracking them as they made their circuitous route around the circumference of the room. Several of the men tried to subtly stand out from his friends, surreptitiously smoothing their hair, or their tunics, hoping that either one of the ladies would pick him. They would strike a pose, hand on hips, trying to exalt their masculinity, only to visibly deflate as the women passed them over. It made Morgana stifle the laughter into the sleeve of her gown.

"Have you seen anything you fancy yet, My Lady?" Morgana asked, leaning to speak in Caitrin's ear, so she could heard over the babble of voices and the undulating music. "You know, if we don't find something suitable soon, we may just have to take to the floor ourselves, and show them how it's done!"

"That's Camelot," Morgana answered. "Everybody knows everybody else. It's a lovely community, but does get cloying."

That was not a word of a lie, either. The closeness, and friendliness was legendary, despite all that had happened over the last twenty or so years. But Camelot had never lost it's spirit of resilience and community spirit It was something that Morgana could not help but admire. But, at other times, it was over-bearing, and a break from the glass house was always welcome. Other times, Morgana viewed the people of the city like links in a chain. Each one depending on the next. Feeding into one another, and creating a unified whole.

"There, you're really getting the hang of that sword, now," Morgana beamed as she watched Caitrin hold the blade much more confidently. It had become like an extension of her natural arm. "I hope I pick up on archery as swiftly as you picked up the sword!"

Somehow, she doubted it. It had been years since Morgana even looked at a bow. But, she yearned to know, now that she had a confident teacher who she knew would not mock her shortcomings. She would, so to speak, give these lessons her best shot. Besides, she enjoyed hunting as much as anybody, and this would be of great assistance to her hunting parties.

"Oh the Knights wouldn't let us join them," Morgana explained, rolling her eyes. "They'd be too afraid of us showing them up!" She laughed softly as she reached out for a new goblet of mead from a passing servant. Behind them, at the heart of the Great Hall, the music carried on playing, and men danced, badly, all about the place. Morgana nodded to them.

"How do you fancy teaching them a few steps?" She asked. "I think we could do with a dance."

Morgana was aware that she had given Gwen plenty of cause for concern, lately. It was something else that had been worrying her lately, on top of everything else. Unless Gwen was being all silent because there was a man involved!

"Is there anything else on your mind, then?" She asked. "A man...." She added in a sing-song voice, giving her maid a wink. "Anyway, whatever that noise was, I think it's passed."

Just to be safe, Morgana squinted, and peered through the gaps in the trees that formed the woodlands to one side of them. She could see nothing, but she could have sworn she saw something. She sighed deeply, she must have been imagining things, yet again. But still, Gwen was right. They must not tarry long here. Morgana urged her horse onwards, a little faster this time. But, they hadn't gone ten paces, when, over the sound of the horses hooves, the noises of approaching footsteps could be heard again.

"Gwen, run!" Morgana called to her friend, not far behind her.

She didn't care about lowering her voice now. She just wanted them both out of this place. But, no sooner had she spoken aloud, than they were surrounded. It was as though the bandits had popped out of this. As though the rocks and trees themselves had come alive, and launched an attack on them. Morgana hardly had time to react, but she shot a worried glance over to Gwen, to see what was happening to her.

"Oh ho! Arthur, so that's what you think I do all day, is it?" Morgana asked, her tone heavy with sarcasm. True, she did rather enjoy her trips to the markets with Gwen. She also rather enjoyed her grooming, but it's not like she spent all day, every day, doing it. "Well, let's see. Us ladies can't let you boys spend all day looking at other hairy blokes, all the time. We must make ourselves presentable, and show the beauty in life." She was aware of awfully feminine she sounded, but, she was willing to grasp at straws to prove a point from time to time. Especially when it was Arthur, her favourite sparring partner.

"Anyway, us Ladies are versed in poetry, literature, and needlework," She listed them off on her fingers. "We even make your ugly chainmail. Face it, you'd be lost without us. We may not fully appreciate the art of killing people, but we fully appreciate the finer things in life, in general. And, no," She stated firmly. "We don't sit around an gossip all day!"

Morgana was affronted at the mere suggestion that all she did was gossip, and she wasn't afraid of messing up her hair, or wrinkling her dress earlier, when she saved Arthur's life, and she wasted no time in telling him. And then telling him again, with a smug, all knowing, grin on her face.

"So," She stated adriotly as she came to halt by the drinks table. "While you and your friends are off practising beating each other up, us ladies are being cultivated, and learned, and sophisticated!"

Morgana could well imagine what the Mercian's said about Uther, and the worse part was, she knew that they were not entirely wrong. But, she chose not to dampen the atmosphere between them by speaking about the relations between the two Kingdoms. All that really mattered to Morgana was the here, and the now. "Uther is not as bad as people say," She said, her voice low now, even though no one had a chance of over hearing her. "He has many ghosts in his past. His wife, Ygraine. They say her death changed him. Made him angry," By 'they' she meant the kindly Court physician, Gaius, but she would never mention his name in a conversation such as this one. But, Uther was a fenced off area of no man's land for most of the Citizens. They feared to speak his name, and Morgana was keen to dispell some of the myths that surrounded the man. He was not, after all, a clear, cut and dry, ogre.

As Morgana followed the line of Caitrin's gaze out over the darkened Citadel, she was struck by the brightness of the stars shining down on them. It was a sign that the night was drawing on, as the constellations now twinkled down at them. But, Morgana was enjoying herself immensely, now that she had another woman to speak with. But, alas, the name of Caitrin's Uncle meant little to her. She prided herself on knowing just about everyone in the town of Camelot. She didn't like to pry in people's lives, but she liked to be accessible to her Guardian's people, just as much as Arthur, and Uther were. She, too, had her duties, and she relished them.

"I can understand your uncle not coming to Court," Morgana rolled her eyes as she pointed to the now rowdy crowds that were singing and dancing the night away behind them, in the Great Hall. "If a man loves his solitude, the last place he should be is amongst drunken Knights who's idea of fun is yards of ale, and lighting their own farts."

In fact, it must have been getting towards the time of night when such stunts had started to seem like excellent ideas to some of the younger Knights. If there was on thing that Morgana did envy, however, it was her freedom. Uther would never let Morgana go anywhere on her own. Not even to the markets within the Citadel walls. So, Caitrin's next question had her suppressing laughter.

"Men asking me for a dance!?" She laughed. "Uther would have them skinned alive, and strung up along the walls of the city. Even if they did dare approach."

Uther's wild over-protectiveness may have struck some as odd. He was her guardian, not her father. But, he was still going to be using her marraige to suit the needs of Camelot. Morgana was born and raised to expect a political alliance for a husband. So, for her own good, she could not go developing feelings for a man who was unsuitable for her, only to have her heart broken when the inevitable moment of separation came.

"But there are plenty of ways to have fun, though," Morgana was quick to counter any thoughts that her life was one, long, rota of official duties. "I often go out riding with Uther, Arthur, and Gwen. As often as I can, in fact. I've learned some sword craft from Uther and Arthur, and I can hold my own in a fight, I reckon. Not that I do much fighting! So, tell me, Lady Caitrin, what do you enjoy doing in your free time? I bet with your hair and figure, you're not wanting for male attention. You'll be beating this pack off, soon enough!"