“All right. You’re the boss.”

“I am communicating with Ishihara now as you and I speak. However, I must emphasize to you that Harriet must come back. Her continuing presence endangers the future. I have explained by radio to Ishihara that he must bring her by force if necessary.”

“I’ll go baby-sit Wayne and send Ishihara over here,” said Jane. She got up and walked back to them.

“All right.” Steve accepted the belt unit from him. “We aren’t going to see Bedwyr again, are we?”

“No. He will assume that we were killed in battle.”

“Too bad. I like him.”

“The mule cannot be taken back to Emrys either,” said Ishihara, as he walked up.

“Who?” Steve asked.

“The owner of the mule, who loaned it to us. However, this may equalize the value of labor I contributed to him. Loss of the mule would in that case mean that our presence made less of a total change in his life.”

“Please get Harriet,” said Hunter. “Ishihara, when she has joined you, return here only a moment after you left. We will be safe here that long.”

“You do it.” Steve moved a few steps away from Hunter and handed Ishihara the belt unit.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Harriet followed Gwenhyvaer through the narrow streets of the village again, looking at the same wares they had seen before. As Gwenhyvaer fingered the material of a woolen scarf, Harriet turned and gazed out the open gate of the village, across the front slope of the tor toward the rolling hills in the distance. She wondered how the campaign was going, though of course she knew who would win in the end. When she got a moment alone, she would call Hunter and see if her lapel pin could still reach him.

The lower level of material comfort here did not bother Harriet. She enjoyed the simple life and the lack of stress. However, in only a few days, the company she kept had begun to bore her.

As a historian, Harriet had pursued her professional research and taught a variety of classes. She had debated historical theories about Arthur both in serious professional forums and also casually with friends in other fields. Now she had found that none of the women around her had the slightest interest in the evolution of societies and values, let alone a desire to hear Harriet discuss them.

Gwenhyvaer talked constantly of her desire to marry Artorius, to assure herself of what status and privilege she could find. She and the other women here had a tremendous stake in Artorius’s military successes, but otherwise they cared nothing for the details. Today, Gwenhyvaer, who in legend would become the beautiful but tragically flawed queen of Camelot, had screamed at a young servant girl for spilling mutton stew on her dress. Now her biggest concern in life was whether to buy another now or to wait until Artorius came home victorious from his campaign.

Harriet no longer wanted to spend the rest of her life in this intellectual void.

As she looked out the main gate, Steve and a man she did not know walked through it.