The Monk, Zorrus, charged by the Mother Church with the awesome responsibility of maintaining The Matter Of The Hidden Word, entered and was quickly seated in the fish market's cookery. Caeserea was no longer the city of Roman times, but still it was a good fishery. Observing the place mostly empty, he reseated himself by a wall. There, it would be chill, but he was used to that. But should zealous keepers of the mysteries seek to end his quest, they would be forced to look him in the eye, and that they would never do.

A tall, powerfully-built older man entered, and nodded towards him. This, surely was his reason for travelling so far as he did. This man claimed to have witnessed demonic possession rites performed by Knights Templar during The Third Crusade. He would listen, though this had no bearing on his ultimate quest, that being to prove or disprove the validity of The Donation Of Constantine. No foe could stay him from this, despite talk of a potential Schism. Happily, of late, he had seen nothing of his stalwart foe, the riddle -talking Cardinal of filthy personal habits.

"You are Cadfael's Man, Zorrus?"

"Brother Cadfael is held in high regard by my order, sir, but I am quite my own."

"Then you, monk, are rare indeed."

"Are you, sir, the gentleman I was to meet with, regarding The Templars and their ways?"

"Feh! Either I am that, or an assassin, or a Unicorn! Pellinore told me of your sobriety, but I fear you are far too dry."

Zorrus remembered fondly King Pellinore, whose large family still held a room just for the inquisitive monk, whom The King had proclaimed a part of that family.

"To wit, sir : You have spoken of The Templars and their ways. You have spoken of Bedivere's death, and how it was no mere misfortune. Am I come all this way to hear another tale of Mordred and his treachery?"

The man laughed out loud.

"Mordred? I think he was his own worst enemy, and not so bad a fellow when his humanity would skulk into the light. Had Morgause not smothered him with her hatred of her brother, he might well--have done well! No, I speak of evils far darker than poor weak-minded Mordred might ever hope to be. Darker, still, than Bannerus, who so loved his land that he sought to squash all freedoms within it. This evil approaches the throne of Saint Peter. Beside all this, even the Necronomicon is but a series of parlor tricks. No, this speaks to The Ancient Destroyer, and those who seek his coming."

"People say things of the Mother Church each day--I among them. I shall need proof, sir. While not as skeptical as Sister Duncilla, who is in Syria, as we speak, I would prefer not to move about as though bilnded."

"Ah, then. Since one of Morgana's choice fiends took my sight, for a time, I would not wish that fate to any. I am Dinadan, whose eye was once like the Hawk, but that was during the Third Crusade, before Bedivere, Bedivere, Bedivere fell. And that was before Bedivere fell."

"Who do you say felled Bedivere, if not the crosscurrents of the Lord's Will and simple luck?"

Zorrus was hearing nothing of worth, so drank down his wine with a mighty gulp.

"No mere crosscurrent, lad. It was a young cipher of a deacon heavily given to flatulence!"

Zorrus nearly choked on his wine, and realized this would be no short stay. Dinadan chuckled.

"Perhaps, Zorrus, you should partake of mere sweetened wines, such as Gawain preferred."

"Tell your tale, Knight."

"I shall. Now, you see, Camelot was not razed overnight. With Arthur's fall, Bedivere led us afield, to the place called in French, Oui-Jean-Bay. Our goal a simple one : To Have The Best Kingdom, Anywhere Under God's Sun. This goal and reality oft conflicted, as well they might."