Meeting of Two Worlds.

Once she stepped out of the protective circle the world she knew disappeared. Dizziness made her stumble, and when a hand caught her arm to steady her she blinked several times. Her sight focused, and a gasp ripped from her parted lips. Lancelot was not as corporeal as before. It was a solid hand that held her up, and very dark and very deep eyes that regarded her amusedly.

“Welcome to Hadrian’s Wall,” he swept an arm out to showcase the area about them. “As it was 1500 years ago.”

It took her a moment to realize he wanted her to look about, and once she did her jaw dropped open. “Goddess…” she hissed, walking forward in awe. The wall stood tall and solid, and where the dig had been there now was a village and garrison. Romans in their armor and red capes, women in dresses with low-cut bodices flirted with men, and some rougher looking men who were being rather raucous.

“Lancelot!” One of the rougher looking men shouted and lifted a fist high in the air as a greeting. “Where you been, eh?”

A slightly drunken man with long dark blond hair took a few steps towards them. “Cannot you see? He has brought a woman with him!”

“Figures,” a bearded one snorted. “How do you do it, Lancelot? And will you share her?”

Meagan choked. “Share me?” She was startled by the baby-faced man’s question. “No one shares me. I give myself only when I want to, and to whom I want to…”

“Galahad,” Lancelot supplied for her. He chuckled at her look of amazement, and moved by her.

“As in… your son?”

The blond doubled over laughing at her stunned question. “Did you hear that, Galahad? She believes Lancelot spawned your hairy ass!”

Lancelot had spun towards her, his dark eyes wide in shock, and stared at her. “The man is only a year younger than I. Where would you get the notion of that?”

Flaming she nervously wet her lips. “Legend has it…”

“That Lancelot bred babies when he was but one himself?” A bald man, the one who had shouted to Lancelot moments before, had neared, and was laughing uproariously.

Meagan would have turned away and run, but a man neared and began to curiously walk about her, his piercing gaze boldly raking over her through the fall of long dark bangs and braids. She froze, uncertain now if following through the veil had been a wise decision. Another bald man neared, and she felt surrounded and quite helpless at the moment. They were so tall or broad. Never had she ever felt so tiny and feminine as she did surrounded by these rough and strong looking men.

Galahad rose drunkenly, swaying slightly, and threw an arm over Lancelot’s shoulders. “Tell me, Da, will you still share her?”

Lancelot shoved the man roughly away, and everyone laughed when he fell into the table and knocked tankards of ale down before sliding to the ground. “She is not mine to share.”

“Then I will have her,” one of the others announced.

Meagan’s eyes widened, and her jaw fell unhinged. “Lancelot…”

The knight of myth and legend held up both hands to halt the others. “She called me across the veil. I have brought her among us to learn of us.”

The stouter of the bald men poked her arm. “She feels solid. Ohhhh,” he made a face when she glowered at him, amused at her reaction. “Fiery thing. I will bet she is full of passion.”

Lancelot rolled his eyes. “I would present to you the Sarmatian knights…”

“Sarmatian!” Her mind shifted to professional gear, and she glanced at each man in turn.

“You have met Galahad, who is not my son,” he continued as though she had not spoken. “That is Gawain, Dagonet, Tristan, and Bors.”

She had followed his motioning to each man in turn. “Gawain?” She faced the blond. “I am overwhelmed.”

“Really?” Gawain smiled and wet his lips as he neared her. “How overwhelmed?”

She flamed. “I see fighting, drinking, and wenching were favorite pastimes in this era.”

“There is not much else to do,” Bors chuckled. “We kill the enemy, drink the wine, and bed the women. Some of us are better at it than others.”

“And some of us dream more grandly than others,” Tristan muttered just loud enough to be heard so all the knights laughed.

Dagonet motioned her to a wooden stool. “And your name?”

“Doctor. Meagan Fraser,” she replied, finding a seat and nodding her thanks when Bors put a tankard before her. She had no idea if she could drink whatever was inside it, but she reached for it and tilted it to her lips, taking a few long pulls. Lowering it she grinned. “Not bad,” she said.

“Doctor?” Galahad rolled the unfamiliar word upon his tongue. “What is a doctor?”

“A healer.”

Meagan turned her head at the sound, and stared at the man who neared. Tall, with wavy dark hair and the most piercing green eyes she had ever seen. “Yes, but I do not heal. I explore, and unearth ancient treasures.”

“Treasures?” Lancelot arched a dark brow.

“Will you join us, Arthur?” Dagonet asked, moving a stool for the man to sit upon.

“Arthur?” Blinking she watched the man take the few steps needed to get to the table and sit. Quickly she turned to Lancelot. “THE Arthur?”

His lips quirked. “Oh yes, THE Arthur,” he replied, eyes going wide.

“Tell us more about these… treasures,” Bors suggested, pouring her more wine.

Shaking her head she sighed. “Very rarely do we find gold or silver. Usually pottery, scrolls, or weapons.”

“Those are not treasures,” Gawain stated. “They are worthless. Well, perhaps the weapons could be worth something depending on their make and age.”

“But in my time all the things you take for granted here are treasures to us. They tell us a story, give us insight into the past. They help us to understand what happened today so we never forget. Arthur’s knights are legends to us. Stories are still told, and doctors like myself have scoured Britain in search of evidence that you truly existed.”

“Well, we exist.” Bors opened his arms wide to encompass them all. “You are here, and you can see we exist.”

“And hopefully I can learn more about your presence here. We had no idea the legendary knights and Arthur were here. In the legends King Arthur built a grand castle called Camelot, and he ruled over all of Britain. King of kings.”

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. “Tales,” he told her. “I am no king. I am a commander here, and these men are my brothers in arms. We are knights, and equal in all ways. It is no more than that.”

“Perhaps your legends are wrong,” Bors grinned. “Perhaps it is King Bors they speak of.”

The other knights chuckled. Meagan frowned. “But if you are on this side of the veil do you not know what happened in your futures?”

“This is our happiest time,” Gawain spoke. “Here we spent most of our living years. Together. On this bloody island that was cold, wet, and a hell. And yet here we are.”

“We do not remember what came after this time. It is likened to replaying our living moments over and over again, and with each beginning our knowledge of the future is gone. We begin here, on this island, when we as young males first came to Britain and trained to become knights.”

Arthur nodded, continuing where Lancelot had left off. “I begin here, when I first saw them come… Just before my mother was killed.” His voice trailed off, his eyes going distant with memories.

Meagan could feel the pain of his loss. She could not help reaching out to touch his arm. “I am sorry. Were you very young when she passed on?”

He blinked, shaking off the memory. “Young enough,” he replied. An ironic grin curled his lips. “But I persevered. And now I kill those who killed her.”

The coldness of his statement startled her. “Vengeance can sour the soul.”

Arthur rose suddenly. “She cannot remain long. The veil is thin only so long, and do not forget that evils still roam this world.”

Meagan blinked, startled. “Was it something I said?”

“Arthur takes the preservation of his soul very seriously,” Lancelot told her. “And he is correct. Time is limited. What do you wish to know?”

“Everything!”

Tristan snorted, shaking his head. He was paring an apple with one of his knives. “Women. They want and want, and expect us to give and give.”

Meagan arched a brow at him. “You don’t have many women in your life, do you?” she shot, and heard Bors erupt into delighted laughter.