Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
Something had changed, he was sure of it. The air felt thicker somehow, or maybe it was just his chest tightening.
Dagonet sat on the muddy ground with his eyes fixed on Tristan. The scout had just lifted his head and was now looking, unwaveringly, back at Dagonet. Their eyes said more than they should have.
"It's getting dark soon, we should prepare to leave." Arthur's voice broke the men out of their reverie. "Tristan, best you ride ahead, we don't want any surprises on the way back."
Tristan nodded, the only affirmation needed. He got to his feet and mounted his horse, with usual grace. Without a word, but with a final gaze at Dagonet, he rode off.
"Vanora is sure to have both food and drink ready when we get back, eh Dag?"
Bors slapped the tall knight on the back before heading for his horse, but Dagonet hardly noticed. His thoughts were with Tristan and he felt an overwhelming sense of fright. Fear for having misinterpreted the signals mingled with fear for what would happen if he hadn't. Would he ever dare go further? Could he ever face himself if he didn't?
ooooo
Tristan traveled ahead of the group through the dense forest. The tattooed man moved with stealth and speed, looking for any sign of the woads they had encountered the previous day. He was extraordinarily skilled, but today he was relying heavily on experience and gut instinct. Try as he might to concentrate on the task at hand, he could feel his mind wandering.
For as long as he could remember he had been prone to solitude. Being the son of a cold and distant man, he had learned early to keep out of the way. Not that he'd minded, really. Even then, few were the men whose company he could tolerate. Over the years he had often been grateful for the training he had gotten, being one of Arthur's knights.
What joy Tristan found in life, he found in the land surrounding him and, sometimes, in killing. It wasn't bloodlust without afterthought, more like a sense of pride of being stronger than his opponent. Tristan was used to being untouchable. Forge no bond, break no bond.
Even though the camaraderie with his fellow knights had grown stronger over the years, none of them had gotten to the very core of him. Not even Arthur. Now he knew he was about to let someone in, and it frightened him to no end. But he knew he had no choice. Dagonet held his heart, and the choice would be Dagonet's to make. Tristan could only let him.
ooooo
Back safely behind the wall the knights began to relax. Gawain was sharing a joke with Galahad while Lancelot was fussing with his horse. Arthur looked around to find Tristan, but the scout was nowhere to be seen. His absence, however common, was sometimes a nuisance. If ever his counsel was needed, it was today. Arthur hadn't had a chance to talk to him properly since the day before and he needed to know all he could about the movements of the woads, before making his report to Rome.
"Dagonet!" Arthur turned to the imposing man standing behind him. "If you could find that elusive scout of ours, I would be ever so grateful."
"I'll do what I can," said Dagonet, and with an almost fearful look he strode away across the courtyard, towards the stables.
Arthur eyed the man as he left. Over the years he had learned to respect and perhaps even love his men, and he felt he knew them well. He was certain people often underestimated Dagonet. Some things about him was plain to see – his strength, his courage, his loyalty. What came as a surprise to most was his quiet intelligence, his tenderness and his wit. He was probably the most dependable of all the knights and Arthur felt grateful for the man's ability to calm the most heated of tempers.
This trait was also perhaps the reason why Dagonet got on so well with Tristan. The stillness of the scout combined with his obvious lust for blood could make the most hardened of men feel ill at ease. Even his fellow knights sometimes displayed some nervousness in his company, but never Dagonet. On the contrary, Arthur mused, they seemed to form a closer bond as time went by. The two of them could often be found away from the others, talking quietly or just sharing an apple. Yes, if anyone could track down Tristan it would be Dagonet. Knowing he could do nothing but wait, Arthur joined the remainder of his knights and, in easy company, they headed towards the tavern.
ooooo
From his position up on the wall the scout watched as Dagonet went off to search for him. He had no doubt that was indeed what he had been sent to do, Arthur always sent Dag when he had a message for Tristan. Today, he stayed were he was, thankful for any respite he could get. Normally he would let himself be known if he sensed any urgency, but this evening he couldn't bring himself to step down from hiding. The events of the last weeks surged through his head.
A few weeks earlier...
They had been tracking a band of woads east of the wall. Everybody was on edge after two days of nothing but searching and waiting. Tristan was just coming back after a few hours of solitary scouting and joined the group to make his report to Arthur.
"Stop your fidgeting or go bother someone else!" Bors was talking to Galahad, who kept checking his bow and strumming the cord.
"What's it to you, old man?" The youngest of the knights asked with a look of defiance.
"It's the difference between sitting here in peace or smacking you over the head," said Bors, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"Oh, leave him be," Lancelot, not the most relaxed of men, failed to see the goodheartedness in the exchange. "Better be prepared if the woads show themselves," he concluded.
Galahad shared a look with Bors and the mirth was obvious in both men. Arthur watched, himself somewhat amused. Lancelot was a good man, but sometimes he really was overly rigid. Gawain and Dagonet came back to the clearing after having, presumably, taken a piss. When everybody was assembled all eyes turned to Tristan, eagerly awaiting what news he had. The scout looked to Arthur, who gave a quick nod.
"They're close. Another league and their blood will be ours to spill," the anticipation in Tristan's eyes was evident and when the hawk came to rest on his arm, he looked almost happy.
"Knights! Saddle up!" Arthur's orders were immediately heeded and in no time at all the men were riding hard to the east.
When they got closer to where Tristan had spotted the woads, their pace slowed. As Dagonet was straightening his gear a final time before battle, Tristan came up beside him on his horse. At first he said nothing, just kept staring straight ahead. After a heartbeat or two he turned his head and looked directly at Dagonet.
"Beware of the one with the scar across his chest, he's even fiercer than the rest."
Dagonet thought this highly unusual. Never before had he heard Tristan give advice like that before battle.
"I will certainly bear that in mind," he answered hesitantly.
The scout nodded, but seemed reluctant to leave. His eyes sought Dagonet's again. This time he looked uncertain, like he was on the verge of revealing a big secret. Dagonet waited.
"Be safe." Tristan spoke the words quietly but clearly and rode off without waiting for a reply.
Confused, Dagonet stared after him. They were knights, fighting was their way of living. It was what they did and they were good at it. Despite their friendships and the hollow terror of losing someone to injury, they hardly ever talked about it. They certainly never voiced any concern about each others' welfare before battle. This was the harsh reality, better face it alone. What could possibly have compelled Tristan to overstep these unspoken rules, Dagonet wondered. He was certain it wasn't any mistrust in his fighting abilities, which left only one plausible reason. Tristan was afraid. Afraid for Dagonet's safety. The rush of insight came to him like a hammer to the chest.
ooooo
An hour later the battle was over, the woads were gone. Most dead, some finding their way back through the woods.
Dagonet's battle, however, was not over. The tall fighter lay on the ground, soaked through with sweat. He hardly made any noise, but his pain could not be hidden. Two long arrows were sticking out of his left thigh and his breeches were laden with blood. Arthur was on his hands and knees, inspecting the wounds.
Dear God, let not all this blood be his, he thought, for then he is already lost.
Gawain kneeled down beside Arthur and the two of them worked together to cut away the cloth to get a better look at Dagonet's injuries. Galahad stood behind them, not knowing how to help and Bors bellowed in his usual manner. Cursing the woads and all the world.
Tristan, however, sat silent. He hesitated for a second, then he bent down and gently eased Dagonet's head off the ground and lay it in his lap. He sat as still as he could, but felt his hands shaking. Looking down he saw the agony evident in the injured man's eyes. If it was to calm Dagonet or to calm himself he didn't know, but he lifted his hand and let it rest on Dag's forehead.
"Lay still, it'll be alright." The words of comfort came easily but sounded strange on Tristan's tongue.
Dagonet heard his voice and felt the touch of his hand. Strangely comforted he tried to lift his head to get a look at the leg.
"Lay still," Tristan repeated, and pressed firmly down on his forehead until he succumbed and once again lay motionless.
"We'll have to get them out," Gawain looked to Arthur for reassurance. "I don't think we have much choice."
"Right," said Arthur, "You or I?"
Having shifted his position slightly, Tristan now held Dagonet's head with both hands. Biting down on a piece of wood Dagonet looked steadily up at the scout, while Arthur positioned himself at his leg. Gawain was ready with cloth and rope, intent on doing what he could to stop the bleeding. The others were hovering nearby, Bors now silent and pale.
As fast and as steadily as he could Arthur pulled the first arrow out. The bleeding wasn't too bad and Dagonet merely shuddered and gasped. The second arrow was worse. Lodged deeper and higher than the first it proved a challenge to Arthur, who had to twist it to get it out. This time Dagonet screamed in earnest, held down by Tristan. When they had bandaged his leg as well as they could manage, Arthur turned to Dagonet and the relief was evident in his eyes.
"You've lost some blood, but not as much as the woad whose arrows those were." Arthur glanced at Tristan who looked positively savage thinking of the way he had disemboweled the man who had caught Dagonet off guard.
"You'll live yet," Arthur concluded with a pat to Dagonet's knee.
"Damn right he will," shouted Bors. "Who else will talk Vanora into letting me have another round of ale?"
Tension easing, the men laughed hard at this feeble joke. They took their chance to mess about with Dagonet, patting him on the head while he sat down on the ground. He took this in stride, as usual, but the only thing he could really think about was how Tristan's hand still lingered at the back of his neck.
tbc...