I spat out the taste of fish with the water and adjusted my fanny pack. It was full of my little shot packs for the flare gun. Sounds of horses, mules...and men filled the camp. The mist swirled as Ferry and I walked the tent line, looking for sergeants and men-at-arms. Men huddled around camp fires eating apples, bread, and meat pies. I found a man-at-arms, eating at his fire, wearing just a brown padded vest and leather pants. Ferry and I sniffed the air. He was cooking lamb. My stomach turned. "Here," he said handing me the glass with Canadian Club Whiskey and Cola. I tasted it and found it to be not awfully strong. I had to work my way up to strong drinks and the older man called me wimp because of it. I didn't mind, since I wasn't trying to be macho. After all I was the mother of two. One of my kids was a son 12 and the other was a daughter 14."So how are the kids?" he asked. I spent the next hour talking about the kids and even the business. I was beginning to really relax after. More

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