Caradoc approaches with a gentle grandeur. He holds his head high, staff in his right hand, and his shortened left arm tucked neatly into a fold in his robe. Nimue walks up to him, coming up to perhaps just below his large barrel chest. She reaches out and wraps her arms around him, to Gawain's surprise. He has already been scolded once today for being jealous; he is careful not to let his thoughts drift there again.

'Nimue, my dear Nimue. How good it is to see you,' says Caradoc, unwrapping his large right arm from her shoulders, while still holding his staff aloft.

'It is good to see you too, Caradoc,' Nimue replies. Gawain has never seen her this purely happy.

Caradoc turns his attention to the healer Senán, Gawain, and Meurig. Senán regards Caradoc mildly, a slight smile on his wizened face.

'Healer Senán, Brother Meurig, may the old gods bless you this day.'

Senán and Meurig nod in response and in unison say: 'And you, lord.'

'And who is our patient?' Caradoc asks, raising an eyebrow to Gawain.

'I am Gawain, commander of the armies of Camlann, and a knight of the Round Table of King Arthur of Camlann.'

'Well, that is certainly an impressive set of honors,' Caradoc remarks. Gawain is unable to tell whether he is speaking genuinely or in jest.

Nimue offers: 'Gawain was injured in the Battle of Camlann. I have been healing him at the fortress, but he was reinjured when we encountered some...difficulty...on our way here.'

'Difficulty?' Caradoc asks. 'On the road to our Oaken Fortress?' He seems genuinely surprised.

'Yes, on the path that runs the rim of the forest. It was several miles back from the druids' road. Meurig summoned Conall afterwards, but it took all our efforts to secure safe passage.'

'I would know more of this,' says Caradoc, his expression darkening.

'You shall. However, I would prefer...' Nimue trails off before resuming: '...to discuss this further in a more private setting.'

Caradoc nods neutrally. 'Then today, it seems that the first order of business is to have our knight of the Round Table rest here in the healer's house, tended by Healer Senán. Brother Meurig, I am sure you have your own matters here in the Oaken Fortress you wish to attend to, after your rather lengthy stay in the palace.'

Meurig nods, gathers his things, and offering a general smile to the group, exits the healer's house. Gawain can see him through the window heading up the cobblestone road towards the center of the fortress.

'And Nimue,' Caradoc continues, 'I assume you too have things that need doing while here.'

'I do,' she nods, without elaborating further. Turning to Gawain, she says, 'I will go out for a while. In the late afternoon I will return, and before then Senán will have begun a more advanced healing spell. We do need to get your leg into better shape, for we cannot abide any setback.'

Gawain looks at Nimue but does not comment on her plan. He lays back onto the bed and settles his head onto the pillow. Nimue approaches the bed, takes his hand and pats it with the other one, before bending down to brush a kiss across his cheek. Gawain is surprised by her affectionate kiss; it is out of character for her, as was her warm embrace of Caradoc. Nimue turns back to Caradoc, and they follow the same path out of the healer's house and up the cobblestone road that Meurig has just taken.

Senán comes to his side with a small jug of a potion that smells faintly of berries and the leaves that fall to the ground in the autumn of the year.

'Drink this, in as few draughts as possible. It will help to calm you so that I may apply the spells,' Senán says.

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Gawain obliges, and Senán takes the cup to replace it on a shelf in the corner of the room that also contains a cabinet, a wash basin, and many small vials of unlabeled liquids. Returning to Gawain, he gently feels the break in the leg, making soft muttering sounds to himself as he does so. When he is satisfied with the examination, he pulls two of the vials from the shelf out of his robe's pocket. Using his left hand, he places several drops of each into his right palm before rubbing both palms together so that his hands are lightly coated in the mixture

Now Senán returns his hands to the break, but this time Gawain feels a slight warmth emanating from them. The feeling grows stronger until the warmth is accompanied by a soft orange glow. The glow in turn increases in intensity until it illuminates the bed and the space around it with its orange light. Gawain then sees tiny orange orbs forming at each of Senán's fingertips.

He moves his fingers over the break with the orange orbs following along with his fingers, leaving faint streaks in the air. Gawain feels a warmth from the orbs that quickly turns into a burning sensation. He tenses reflexively but when he looks at the areas where the orbs have passed over, he sees nothing but clear smooth skin - no burn marks at all.

Senán continues, moving his fingers and therefore the orbs up, down, and around the area of skin under which is the break. Gawain feels a curious sensation now, a mix between very hot and very cold. Although he tries, he cannot determine which it is.

After about a half-hour of this process, Senán leaves the bedside and returns with a clean wrap of bandaging. Taking Gawain's leg gently in his experienced hands, he wraps the break above and below, with the loosest part of the wrap being directly over the break, and the ends cinched tight.

'This will keep it steady,' Senán says, a smile of satisfaction on his face as Gawain thanks him.

'I am hungry,' he says, just noticing it for the first time since they arrived at the fortress.

'I have just the thing,' says Senán, scurrying out of the opposite end of the room where a little arched doorway leads down a passageway. Gawain hears wooden spoons being dropped, bowls rattled together, the soft clucking of Senán as he prepares the meal.

Presently he returns with a steaming bowl of soup, set upon a wooden tray with a wooden spoon, and a small cloth napkin folded neatly beside the bowl.

'Eel soup,' Senán announces. 'With leeks!' This mention of leeks is the most expressive Gawain has seen Senán act since their arrival.

Gawain does not favor eel soup, or leeks for that matter, but he is hungry, and eel soup with leeks will satisfy that. He settles the tray on his lap, picks up the spoon, and tucks into the soup. Senán sits beside him in a small wooden chair, alternately checking his progress on the soup and gazing out the large airish window behind Gawain's bed.

Once he finishes the soup, Senán takes the bowl and holds it across his lap. He does not move, however, and seems to be interested in further conversation.

Gawain, thinking of Nimue's explanation as to where the fortress is located, asks Senán to elaborate on the matter.

'Nimue was correct in her metaphor of a courtyard. That is probably the best way to describe this location, relative to the rest of the world.'

'Whose land is the fortress on? The land that makes up the estate?'

Senán pauses, as if to consider. 'The estate was given to us by a man who purchased the land from the Romans.'

'Then it is very old.'

'Not as old as it could be,' Senán replies mysteriously.

Gawain is uncertain whether he should continue, but he does: 'Who was the man who purchased the land and gave it to the druids?'

Senán clucks to himself again, 'He was named Yosip, and he came from the east. Further than this, I cannot say.'

Gawain nods, and the two fall into a companionable silence. The shadows grow long in the room, painting the floor with long golden light. Gawain is suddenly aware of Nimue standing over him. He looks to his right where Senán had been and finds his chair empty. As his mind shakes off the dusty coils of sleep, he notices through the window that it is full nightfall.

'Wake up,' Nimue says softly. 'Wake up now.'

Her voice brings Gawain to full awareness. 'What is it?' he asks, sensing a tension in Nimue's voice and noticing her brow creased in worry.

'The monk you saw at the execution of the traitors. He is a spy. He infiltrated the Oaken Fortress, presenting himself an acolyte seeking training. Caradoc says he resided here for over a year before abruptly disappearing. When they searched his room, they found he had cleaned it so thoroughly that the only thing remaining in it was his sleeping mat. And on the mat, they found a small wooden cross that had been dipped in blood.'

Gawain nods, trying to follow along, but the residual effects of Senán's healing override his ability to think in an orderly way.

'So what does this mean?'

'It means that there is a Christian spy inside the walls of Camlann.'