With a sigh, Gwyndolyn shook her head, trying to reset her thinking. Before she could begin to sort out how it all made her feel, she needed to just remember what actually happened. It felt like an eternity that they were caught in that surreal dance of life and death...but she knew in truth it could not have been so very long at all. Only as long as it took the knights to break the door...

The one she stabbed fell and she heard him groaning as he dragged himself back to lean against the wall. She kept him in her peripheral, but turned so that she could better watch the other two as they shifted their stances. She saw them pull daggers and knew they meant to kill her.

She prayed only that Father and Robin would stay far away from the barn. She would probably be sick over it later, but she would stab the three of them if she must. However, she could not endure if they were to hurt Father or little Robin in front of her...

Except that she did get sick afterward. She did not feel anything at all, not right away. Only that she held that fork as though her life depended upon it, which in reality it had until the knights crashed through the door. She heard their shouts and wanted to answer, but knew that if she left her attention off from those two monsters for even a second of time...

As the knights' shouts and the pounding grew louder, her two attackers grew bolder. They lunged in turns trying to get the fork away from her. She grazed the ribs of one, tearing his tunic. At the time, she remembered thinking it was a miracle that he twisted away instead of grabbing the fork and wrenching it from her grasp.

She pulled it away from his reach and held it close to her as she quickly turned toward the other. The third man skidded to a stop and skipped back as she lunged at him menacingly. They called her horrible names, and told her what they were going to do to her in vivid detail...

Their lecherous voices scraped at her consciousness and sent a shiver down her spine. So vivid were the memories that she cried out and pressed herself hard against the well, curling even further into herself at the sound of the brush rustling nearby. She let out a scream as a man seemed to materialize from the darkness and stepped toward her.

"Milady, it is only I...er... Sir Gil." He said softly as he stopped and raised his hands up, palms out and away from his weapons.

"You gave me a dreadful fright." She gasped as she tried to scramble to her feet. Instead her feet got all tangled in her skirts and she tumbled hard to the ground.

Great. Now she could add mortification to that list of emotions she needed to sort out. Not that she could do much thinking with her heart thumping and her stomach churning.

"I am sorry." He said as he stepped forward and offered a hand, which she gladly accepted. "I have been watching. You seemed distressed, but I did not want to intrude. Just now, when the wind rustled and you cried out, I could not in good conscience stay away any longer."

"I distressed." She admitted as he easily tugged her to her feet, "As you can well imagine, after the...the...well, in the barn..."

"Lord Erec and Sir Drew said only that three men accosted you, that one of them was badly injured by a fork, and that you were the one holding the fork..."

"I was...that is to say I..." At the mention of the stabbing, her stomach rolled again as she remembered the sound, the smell, the feeling of the fork as it jerked in her hand when it hit the bone in his... "Oh!"

Her hand clapped over her mouth as she ran for the nearby trees. After two steps she doubled over as a violent shudder racked her body and her stomach lurched. Her arms curled around her middle as her stomach lurched again...and again.

She was vaguely aware of Sir Gil. Stepping beside her, he pulled her hair back and held it with one hand while he gently rubbed her back with the other.

Long after her stomach had emptied, the churning subsided and she was able to draw a breath. Stumbling backward, she sank to her knees. She wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, to hide away from all of the unpleasantness.

...at least until morning when she could lose herself in all of the work to be done.

But Sir Gil would have none of it.

Kneeling next to her, he gently used the bottom of his surcoat to wipe her face. She tried to turn away, but he gently persisted. When he finished, he stood and she thought he might at last leave her to wallow in her misery. But he reappeared a few moments later with the ewer and his surcoat draped over his arm.

Though she was dirty and the smell was awful, she sensed no disapproval from him. She was rather surprised when he stepped close. Kneeling once more, he set aside the ewer and holding his surcoat by shoulder and hem of one side, gently draped it around her shoulders. As she grasped the corners to hold it in place, she felt the dampness from where he rinsed it clean.

"I have no cup or ladle to offer you a drink, milady, but I will hold the ewer if you wish. It is a bit heavy as far as cups go." he smiled rather sheepishly at her, as he lifted the ewer.

Feeling humbled, she offered a wobbly smile and without moving her aching head overmuch, she gave a nod. Awkward as the situation was, she was grateful for his help. Gently she pushed his hand away after a small sip and swirled the first bit in her mouth before spitting. A second time she swirled and spat before she carefully swallowed the tiniest bit. It was an immense relief to find the cool water refreshing. She began to drink deeply then.

Too soon he pulled the ewer away and some of the water dribbled down her chin.

"Take it easy." He offered gently. "You must not drink too much so soon, else you will be ill again."

She wiped her chin on her sleeve and offered another smile. It was still a bit wobbly, but it felt less forced.

"My thanks." She managed.

Sir Gil nodded as he stood and moved the Ewer over by the well. She watched in wonder as he went over to the place where she was sick and began to toe loose dirt over the mess splattered about.

Splattered! Suddenly she thought of her skirts and her hair! Surely it must have splattered...quick inspection revealed that her skirts did get soiled near the hem. Her hand flew to her hair...

She remembered his help just as Gil returned and sat next to her. They sat in silence for a moment and just when she gathered enough nerve to apologize for the mess and thank him for his kindness, he began speaking in a low, easy voice but his eyes seemed to watch some unseen thing in the shadows.

"I remember my first real battle. I was terrified and I was shaking so badly I thought it a certainty that the others could hear my armor clattering. I was so clumsy with my fighting that I almost got myself killed. Thankfully, I was fighting near Sir Cameron... Now was amazing. He seemed so calm and he wielded his sword with such precision...no wasted movements or..."

Sir Gil grew quiet a moment and Gwyndolyn thought it best to wait, since it looked as though he was sorting out the rest of his story. Sure enough, he went on again, in that same soft easy voice looking off at the same unseen place in the shadows.

"He rescued me...more than once, I am ashamed to say. I was so glad to be alive after the battle... I remember that when we returned to camp, I started shaking again and I was skittish as a new foal. My stomach was all tied up in knots, but at the same time, it churned like..." His voice trailed off and he shrugged, apparently ending his story.

Sir Gil had just shared what had to be one of his most personal moments with her, a time in his life when he was weak and vulnerable and feeling foolish and ...and she was humbled and felt an instant kinship with this good knight. Touching his arm, she offered softly. "As though you were swaying to and fro on a boat upon deep waters perhaps?"

"That is exactly it!" he chuckled "I hurried out of the camp, and held up my peg as I passed the guard and continued out to the trees. I was sick all over the bramble and I am sure I was looking rather green as returned. Dermot heckled me about getting sick, along with the others... but later Dermot took me aside and assured me that it was normal; even he got sick after his first battle."

"Truly?" She rested a hand on her own stomach and felt the churning subside a little.

"Truly. Killing is a difficult thing. The sights and sounds of battle are...Well, it is not something to dwell upon. It is best to try and leave all thoughts of the killing behind when you leave the battlefield. Otherwise you will go mad."

"Then why do you it?" She needed to know why any normal, sane man would willingly go into battle and feel the horrible fright and...suffer those memories...

"I do not crave battle or carry bloodlust in my heart as some do. But I chose to become a knight and I go willingly into battle when it is asked of me. I fight, milady, so that others such as yourself do not have to fight. It pains me that some men among our number caused you such..."

"Nay." She grabbed his hand, "Certainly you are in no way at fault."

The two of them sat quietly a moment and once more she felt that sense of kinship. After a moment they began to talk again. About his travels and what he witnessed. About her family and it was surely quite some time later when another man appeared from the shadows.

In one moment, Gil was sitting next to her, and they were talking easily. In the next heartbeat, Gil was on his feet, sword drawn as he stood protectively in front of her, challenging the newcomer.

"At ease, Gil." The shadow spoke as the man stepped closer, "It is I, Dermot."

"Speak sooner," Gil warned, "Or you may find a blade in your gullet next time."

"I only came to inquire after the lady. You have been gone a good while and it is nearing next watch."

"As you can see, Dermot, we are well."

Dermot arched an eyebrow as she looked from Gil to the blushing lass.

"None of your mischief, Dermot." Gil warned. "The lady was threatened by three barbarians and accosted with lecherous words. She was forced to seriously injure a man in her defense and needed some time to..."

"I beg your pardon, Milady." Dermot bowed. "I remember well my first battle, and I can recall every battle since. If I half tried, I could recall the exact expression of every face the moment I ended his life. I can recall the sights and sounds easily, gruesome though they be. However, I exert much effort to block such memories, or else I should lose my sanity.

"I am deeply troubled by your experience, and even more so that your mistreatment came at the hand of three men of our number. If it were within my power, milady, I would gladly go back and fight those men in your stead."

A soft feminine laugh filled the air, tremulous at first, as if choked by nerves, but as Gil and Dermot exchanged confused looks, the laughter grew bolder until even they two joined.

"I should not think, Sir Dermot," Gwyndolyn said when she caught her breath, "That if you were in my stead, there would have been a fight at all. Those men told me in explicit detail what it was that motivated their attack and I do not think they would have been so motivated by..." she chuckled again as she finished, "by your particular person."

Dermot blushed and shook his head. Gil laughed heartily as he rose and scooped up the ewer of water. As the three of them made their way back to the house, she was grateful to Sir Erec. His arrival brought with it the troublesome events in the barn, but it also gave her the opportunity to become acquainted with such good men as Drew, Dermot, and Gil.

As a young woman, the story of her parents' encounter with soldiers gave her the opinion that enemy soldiers were wicked. But her only other experience with friendly soldiers was when they took her brothers by force, confiscated every last crumb of food, and then cruelly toyed with her injured father...Suffice it to say she had all but decided that all soldiers were wicked.

These three knights were beginning to restore her faith in the other stories her mother told her as a young girl...stories she now remembered with a fond smile; stories of courageous and honorable knights...and damsels in destress.

Gil and Dermot melted in to the darkness before she reached the house. When she opened the door and turned to say goodnight, she could no longer see them. With a smile she turned to the waiting Sir Drew. He was awake, alert and watching the door behind her.

"Thank you, Sir Drew." She smiled as she handed him the ewer of water. "I needed that time and ... and G—Sir Gil is a good man... as are Sir Dermot and yourself. I had begun to think that all soldiers were...It does not signify." She said with a dismissive wave. "My faith has been restored in the goodness of men, in the courage and honor of a good knight. May God keep you."

With that she slipped quietly through the door and settled down on the mat on next to little Robin. He snuggled up to her and she slipped her arms around him, feeling safe for the first time in many months and was asleep almost at once.