Chapter One
The hills of Briton rolled by as the riders crested over a lush green peak. Trees lined their flanks and the smell of fresh rain and pine infiltrated the noses of the eight individuals on horseback. One large man in the center sat proudly on his horse with a distinct Roman appearance to him while the others surrounding this man had foreign and fierce guises. This man gazed out on the horizon at a looming caravan that was slowly making its way towards them from the southern ports. To the north of where they stood sat a 73-mile long wall that was waiting to elope the caravan in its stony arms and bid the eight riders their much-needed freedom. Bittersweet happiness swelled in Arthur's chest as he welcomed the idea of giving his remaining knights the freedom they sought out, but the ever-gnawing reminder of all those men he lost within the last 15 years played in the back of his mind.
"Ah, as promised, the Bishop's carriage," stated a knight to the right of Arthur with tangled blonde hair that lay over his shoulders in messy torrents.
"Our freedom Bors," said the younger knight to the right of the blonde with curly brown hair and a boyish glint in his eye. His grin held a hint of mischievousness to it as he spoke directly to a rotund bald knight directly to Arthurs left.
"Mmmmmm, I can almost taste it," said the bald man with a direct wink to the shadowy knight to his left.
"And your passage to Rome, Arthur," added another bald knight at the end of the line to Arthur's left. Unlike the other bald knight, this one was built of pure muscle and looked like the giants that left the land many decades earlier.
"Try not to forget us in your Rome," said a man with curly black hair and a sharp face. He sat next to the shadowy knight on his tall black horse. Said knight sat on a horse of pure white with a large brown cloak of wool covering the hair of the knight and blacking out the face with shadows. The knight sat there stoic and quiet, never removing the hood nor breaking their gaze from the oncoming caravan.
As sudden as lightening, blue men and women began to run out of the woods to the left of the caravan with weapons and fire in their pale eyes. Screams of battle and anger floated through the air as they moved to attack the caravan and its Roman defenders.
"Woads!" exclaimed the knight with tangled black hair and tattoos on his cheeks. The eight knights spurred into action, rearing their horses into the small battle before them. Coming down the hill, a traditional Sarmatian roar sounded from the line giving the overwhelmed Romans some sliver of bright hope.
Weapons were drawn and steel clashed while Arthur rode down and decapitated a Woad who just freshly did the same to a Roman soldier. Lancelot, Bors, and the shadowy knight quickly dismounted their horses and drew their respective weapons. Arthur remained mounted on his horse fighting Woads off of his war-horse. Gawain was tackled to the ground after peaking into the Bishops carriage, and with a great growl took down two Woads at once. Dagonet dove into a small stream taking down four Woads into the water and quickly dispatching them turning the water red.
Galahad stayed astride his horse taking down strays one by one with arrows like Tristan until the latter came to the ground in a smooth move and circled his sword slowly beckoning the blue demons to attack him. Lancelot took down countless men with his twin swords, slicing and cutting with ease. Bors and his short hand knives punched the life out of many Woads that tried to come at the brutal man with inexperience and a bit too much zeal. Many lay on the bloody ground with no teeth and their heads split apart. In contrast to Bor's brutal methods the shadowed knight took down attackers with silence and even swings of their swords, no missteps or hesitation, showing the true killer underneath the large brown cloak.
Soon the screams of war and fighting turned into shouts of pain and mercy. The Woads retreated back into the woods and the Sarmatians and Romans looked around in exhaustion and relief, waiting for stray attacks to come their way. Bors, Gawain, and the cloaked knight gathered around the carriage peering into the wooden structure at the mess that was once Bishop Germanus. Now it was Bishop Germanus with an arrow through his head.
"Benedictus fructus ventris tui, lesus. Benedicta tu in mulieribus," whispered a weak and shaking voice from under the carriage. There sat a skinny man with a rosary in his quivering hands, tears rolling down his dirty face.
Gawain crouched low and threw his knife into the ground to clean his sharp battle-axe. Peering at the man, he sneered in contempt of his religious fervor. "Save your prayers, boy. Your god doesn't live here." He growled.
"Bors?" asked Arthur coming up to the trio by the carriage.
"What a bloody mess," said Bors pointing into the carriage.
Peering into the carriage, a small look of confusion came over the Roman commander's face. "That's not the Bishop," he slowly drawled.
Arthur moved away from the carriage as Bors began to harass the small man that was under the carriage. Looking intently into the faces of the surviving Roman soldiers who remained on their horses, Arthur tried to find the aged face of the Bishop. Feeling uneasy, many of the Roman soldiers placed their hands on their swords and began to draw them at the sight of the rugged and battle-hardened Briton-Roman.
"Stand down!" cried a voice of authority. All the Roman soldiers reluctantly removed their hands off their weapons and tried to relax but failed to do so under the gazes of the fierce Sarmatians. A Roman soldier came forward and grinned at Arthur beneath his helm. "Arthur! Arthur Castus. You're your father's image. I haven't seen you since childhood," he said grinning down at Arthur. He looked older; like he didn't belong in the armor he was wearing.
"Bishop Germanus," Arthur replied with a slight grin. "Welcome to Briton. I see your military skills are still of use to you," he said nodding to Germanus' armor. "And I see your device worked." They both glanced towards the carriage as two Roman soldiers were removing the dead body of the Bishop's decoy.
"Ancient tricks of an ancient dog," Germanus' said shrugging nonchalantly. His eyes scanned over the knights that gathered behind Arthur, all had looks of contempt and hatred as they gazed at the Bishop and the soldiers behind him. "And these are the great Sarmatian knights we have heard so much about in Rome." He paused and attempted a smile at the solemn knights, not noticing the one with the cloak over his eyes moved to stand behind the large black horse of Lancelot. Once he realized that none of the knights was willing to smile back at him, he continued. "I thought the Woads controlled the north of Hadrian's Wall."
"They do, but they occasionally venture south," stated Arthur. "Rome's anticipated withdrawal from Briton has only increased their daring."
"Woads?" asked the small man who was hiding and praying under the carriage.
"British rebels who hate Rome," growled Gawain.
"Men who want their country back," added Galahad, venom laced into every word.
"Who leads them?" asked the Bishop, just adding to the knight's impatience.
"He's called Merlin. A dark magician some say," said Lancelot with a dark glared pressed to the Bishop.
"Ahhh, sorcery," hissed the Bishop in Lancelot's direction. However, Germanus wasn't looking at Lancelot, he was looking behind him at the brown cloak that seemed to be peeking out from over Lancelot's saddle. His eyes went from confused, to shocked, to angry, then back to confused as he tried to decipher what he was seeing through the shadows of the cloak the figure was wearing.
As protective as ever, Lancelot followed the Bishop's line of sight to the figure standing behind him. He glared at the older man, challenging him silently with his grey eyes.
"Arthur, I was unaware there was a woman in your company," the Bishop said, not bothering to disguise the contempt in his heavily accented voice. A ripple of gasps ran between the line of Roman soldiers that flanked the Bishop. Galahad and Gawain chucked while Bors made a spectacle with loud guffawing. Lancelot continued to glare daggers at the Bishop, which the older man seemed to ignore.
Arthur turned away from the Bishop to look at the covered knight behind his second-in-command. The woman looked directly at Arthur over Lancelot's horse, as if asking for permission to step forward. Their gazes met and Arthur slowly nodded his head granting her authorization to come and confront the Bishop.
Slowly, as if she were a tiger looking at her prey, the woman moved around the horse to come and stand next to Arthur. A small gust of wind moved through the area and caused the brown cloak to swirl around her body revealing a pair of toned and skinny legs covered by black breeches that were tucked into armored boots. Lancelot shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as he moved his gaze from the Bishop, to the back of the cloaked woman, then back to the Bishop. The other knights were void of their previous amusement, and Arthur could feel their nervousness rolling off in waves. They accepted the woman into their group easily, but there was no telling what the relentless Bishop would feel. The woman came to stand before the man next to Arthur, her head held high under the wool of the cloak while her shadowed eyes never left the face of the older Bishop.
"Remove your hood," the Bishop snapped at the covered woman before him as his hand came to rest on the sword on his side. Behind the three the distinct sound of swords being unsheathed rang out as Gawain and Lancelot brought out their weapons. The Roman soldiers behind the Bishop in turn also brought out their weapons as a response to his hostile move by the two knights on horseback.
"Stand down," came the clear and airy voice of the woman before the Bishop. Her voice rang out to the Romans and the Sarmatians, and the latter slowly sheathed their weapons but kept their glares pointed at the Bishop. However the Romans, still distrusting of the knights before them, only lowered their weapons.
Turning to look behind her at the knights she rode into battle with, the woman slowly reached up and grasped the hem of her hood. Slowly returning to look directly at the Bishop, the woman removed her hood revealing her face to the Romans before her.
The Bishops eyebrows shot up under his helm as he took in her face and the similarities to the seated knight with the black curly hair. Her face had some of the same sharp angles, but they were more feminine and gave her more graceful cheekbones. Her lips were slightly plumper and her nose smaller, but it was obvious that the two were related. A pink scar that ran from below her left eye straight up into her hairline marred her white skin and seemed to make her grey eyes even fiercer. Her black hair matched the knights perfectly in color as its long wavy tendrils flowed over her back and shoulders. Her light armor was dark grey in color and her leather bodice looked worn, but her twin swords hung off her hips with a wicked black handle that glimmered in the sunlight. She looked as vicious and dangerous as the knights that stood behind her, and that made the Bishop shift uncomfortably in his saddle as her grey eyes bore into him.
"What kind of witch tricks a Roman commander into letting her into his ranks?" spat the Bishop towards her. The sound of swords coming out of their scabbards was heard again; this time Galahad and Tristan joined Lancelot and Gawain in drawing their weapons
"Ragnelle is no witch," Arthur said in her defense as he moved to place her behind him, wearily watching the Roman soldiers flanking the Bishop hold their swords higher. "She is simply the sister of my second, Lancelot."
The Bishop glanced at the woman behind Arthur once more, then to the knight holding twin blades on horseback. Said knight was contemplating running him through with a dangerous look in his stormy grey eyes. With a nod of his head, the Bishop dismounted his horse and waved at his soldiers in a signal to put away their weapons. Apprehensively they obeyed their orders, but not before shooting all the knights and the woman weary looks. The Bishop moved to the carriage and took off his helmet, showing to the company how truly old he is.
"Tristan," Arthur continued as he lightly pushed the woman towards her horse then mounted his, "Ride ahead and make sure the road is clear. Please do not worry, Bishop. We will protect you."
Bishop Germanus stood before the door of the carriage and scanned his eyes over the knights in Arthur's command. His old brown eyes lingered on Ragnelle who had since mounted her stallion and stood tall next to her brother. She didn't flinch under his intense gaze, and actually returned it with an intensity of her own.
"I have no doubt commander," he said never taking his eyes off Ragnelle. "No doubt."
AN: This idea has been swimming around in my mind for months and I just had to get it down or I'd go crazy. I have four chapters finished and I will be posting at least one a week until I return to University in August.
Ragnelle is being taken from the story of Gawain and Ragnelle where he married her and freed her from a curse of haggardness. I simply borrowed the name and I am not adhering to her original myth.
A VERY LARGE HEADS UP: This story will have suggestive themes that may make certain readers uncomfortable. If you wish to know what to expect from future chapters, DM me and I will give you a simple idea on what themes I may be touching upon and then you can decide for yourself if you wish to continue reading this story. I will not be changing my story to fit other peoples ideas of acceptable.