Disclaimer: I dont own King Arthur, but Tamura is my character.
Enjoy!
Tamura
She was the only daughter of a man born into servitude. She was in fact his only child. The man had hoped that she would be spared from the life of servitude his ancestors had forced upon him, simply because she was female. However when the soldiers came that day she agreed to go, despite her father's protests. The soldiers were expecting a son from the man, and when one was not produced, they eyed the girl speculatively. She was taller than most girls her age, most likely because her father was rather large himself. She had handsome features, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her nose was angular and straight. She was not beautiful, but handsome. Her hair was wavy and of a decent length, hanging down to the middle of her back, a rich gold brown which seemed out of place among so many dark haired people. Her eye's, though were deep and at first glance black like those of her still protesting father. Her name was Tamura and she was the first woman to become a Sarmatian knight, and the last.
Tamura silently packed her meager belongings under the watchful eyes of her father. She knew that he disapproved of her going, especially when she didn't have to go at all. However he had taught her honor above all else and she would honor the commitment her ancestors had been forced into.
"You should not have to pay for the mistakes of our forefathers. I do not wish to lose my only child to some war, or some expansion of an empire that has nothing to do with us. I do not want to lose you, my child." Her father said quietly.
"I must go father, for who will preserve our honor if I do not? I will return to you, and you will be proud to call me your own. Do not fear for me, you have taught me well." He sighed in resignation, not happy with this turn of events but unable to prevent them from occurring.
"As you will, my daughter. I will saddle your horse." He rose and exited their home and made for the pasture behind it. Two beautiful horses waited patiently at the gate, one white and one black. He approached the white one and easily caught him. He efficiently tacked up the horse that stood by placidly. When he was done the man leaned into the horse.
"Keep her safe my friend. Guard her well. You know what she will see. Protect her as best you can for she has a long journey to go on, and many battles to fight." The man said softly before he led the horse around the side of their home to see his daughter waiting patiently.
Tamura hugged her father tightly and easily mounted her horse's back after attaching her bags. The Roman soldier was impatient to leave and his horse caught his agitation as it stepped back and forth jostling the other recruits horses. Tamura asked how long the would be gone. Fifteen years came the gruff reply. She figured they had all asked that question before they left their homes and families, and who was she to break with such a resounding tradition. With one last wave to her father and the gather of friends, she turned to face her new life, destiny or not.
Travel was slow going, as they had one other stop to make on their way to the coast. The last boy that the Roman soldiers took was named Lancelot. He had dark wavy hair and dark eyes. He was very bold on his black stallion. He too asked the question of how long they would be gone and was given the same answer. He however promised that he would return to his home and his family. Tamura stayed with the other recruits and just shook her head slightly. There were no guarantees as to how long you would survive in the service of the Romans. They had their many wars with many different peoples. They were always trying to expand their holdings and that meant fighting for the rest of them. They themselves were being sent to Hadrian's Wall. As they left the last village behind, Lancelot brought his horse into step with hers. He was silent for a few moments before he introduced himself. He wasn't the youngest of the recruits, but he certainly seemed that way. The rest were silent but he didn't seem to be able to be quiet. Tamura sighed inwardly. She was probably going to have to suffer through his chatter the whole way to the Wall. She listened politely to Lancelot, and despite her reservations, actually found him to be clever and determined. He wasn't nearly as annoying as she had thought he would be. They became quick friends in those three months it took to reach the shores of Gaul.
Their horses were all edgy about being guided onto a boat. They tossed their heads and stamped their feet. An older boy named Tristan quieted his grey mount easily as did the rest of the boys except one, the youngest, whose name was Galahad. He was a distant cousin of Lancelot and trailed him like a lost puppy. As Lancelot spent most of his time in Tamura's presence, that meant he followed her as well. Tamura reached out and stroked his horse's neck, cooing to it softly, eventually calming him enough to lead him on to the boat. Once everyone was aboard, they sailed with the tide. It was a short trip that lasted a handful of hours, rather than the many days and weeks it had taken them to reach that point. After they disembarked on to the rocky beach of Briton, the Roman soldiers led them on a trail to the Wall. It was a vast thing that spread some miles. As they rode the soldiers were even quieter than usual and seemed exceptionally wary of the forest in the distance. They appeared to be watching it for some sign of attack or ambush to spring on them at any moment. But as they neared the gates of the fortress, they relaxed.
As they rode up the final slope to the fortress, Tamura saw the massive size of the building and the amount of troops. She had never seen so many people in one place. A young child, a boy talked with a man by the river. She watched them as they watched the parade of new recruits. The boy seemed so innocent. She knew in her heart that his innocence would not last, not in their new home. She soon lost sight of him and turned her attention back to the road ahead. Galahad sidled closer, moving his horse up between her and Lancelot. She too felt his fear but was better at hiding it. But even the normally chatty Lancelot was quiet.
They were taken to a large stable and ordered to care for their horses. It was a silent affair. Tamura was the second to finish so she joined the other boy at the door. His name was Dagonet. He was the tallest of them and the quietest. He said very little but he always made his point. They had often spared with each other on their journey. As the group coalesced around them, the soldiers led them to meet their elders, the knights they would train under. Tamura almost laughed to see the young boy from the stream watching them again. They were led into a large chamber, a meeting hall with corridors leading off in different directions. It was cool and dim, lit by a few solemn torches and one window.
"Welcome to Briton. This will be your home for the next fifteen years. Most of you will probably die in battle. But don't let that discourage you. You are here to learn your art and learn it well. You are no longer boys to romp the grassy hills and fields. You are men now. Get to your bunks. Training begins at dawn." A booming voice called to them from the head of the hall. Whoever the man was, his face was hidden in shadow.
They were led to dorm rooms. Until they were full knights, they would be rooming in two communal dorms. There were older trainees in the first and the younger trainees would be in the second. None of them said a word as they were ushered in. They each claimed a bunk, one by one collapsing onto their beds. Tamura's bunk was the farthest from the door, all the boys in front of her with Dagonet and Lancelot the closest to her and Galahad next to her. There would be excitement over her the next day, she could feel it.
The morning dawned with a crispness that was unusual to the young trainees. They shivered in their jackets as they quickly gulped breakfast down before they began their first day. No one said a word. When they were finished, they lined up in front of the older Sarmatian knights. The knights already had an older trainee with them and they would choose the younger then, based on their skills and the promise they showed.
Tristan was called first. He showed promise with a bow and a sword. He was excellent on horseback. A tall knight with grey in his beard chose him. He carried a hawk in one hand. His squire was just as tall and had blunt features. He didn't look very bright. Bors was called next, then Dagonet. Gawain followed. When Lancelot was called, a knight without a squire chose him. The same knight chose Galahad as well. Tamura was left standing alone, but she stood tall.
"You are called Tamura. Your father is Morholt?" The last knight asked.
"Yes." She answered.
"You are his only child? He had no son to send?"
"I am his only child. He had no need of a son. He has me." The knight looked long at her, taking in her features and her size. He gestured to the bows laid out before her, a crossbow, a long bow, and a short bow. She picked up the crossbow, loaded it, aimed and fired. The arrow landed solidly in the target, not centered but closely enough. She chose the short bow next. This time the arrow landed dead center of the target. She picked up the long bow, aimed and fired for a third time. The arrow entered the target to the right of the other two, making a line across the middle of the target.
"So she can shoot, but can she match swords? She's too weak." An older boy grumbled.
"Then lets put her to the test against you, Sagremore." The knight ordered. The boy went tight lipped with anger but agreed. They were given swords. Tamura weighed hers, turning it this way and that, taking a few practice swings and chops to warm up her muscles and get a feel for the blade. It was balanced well enough, and straight. It wasn't what she would want to use on a consistent basis, but it would do for the moment. She face off with Sagremore. She didn't expect to win. None of them expected her to win, and she didn't. But she held her own long enough to gain the respect of the outspoken Sagremore and many more of her fellow recruits. She wasn't as strong as them. There was no way she could be, but what she lacked in strength, she made up for in agility, and possibly with a few more years training, speed as well.
"How are you on horseback?" The knight asked when she had caught her breath and dusted herself off. She just smiled and gave a sharp two-note whistle. Her horse, turned out with the others, leapt the fence and came cantering up. He started to check his stride but lengthened it when he saw his mistress alter her stance. It was subtle, just a shifting of weight to ball of her feet in anticipation. As he went past, she caught his mane and vaulted up in one graceful motion. They made another fence leap before turning and hopping it again and returning to the assembled people. The knight looked mildly impressed. Horses were second nature to her. Her weaponry skills she'd had to work very, very hard to attain, but horses were so easy to her. Her father had often joked that she was not a person but a horse.
"I should have expected as much from Morholt's child. I will take you. I am called Percival. This is my squire Yvain. You'll learn from us." Tamura nodded and slid down from her horses back. He twitched an ear toward her then swiftly leapt the fence again and rejoined the other horses in the pasture. Percival eyed her then the horse, but finally shook his head and led her off with his squire to begin her training.