Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or any characters you might recognize.
The sounds of battle are all around me. The cries of the wounded and dying are deafening and terrifying at the same time because I know I could be lying next to them soon. Yet, years of battle has made me deaf to those sounds and I no longer hear the cries of the wounded, nor my own as I charge into battle.
We had hoped battle would be over for us. A few days ago all seven of us, six Sarmatian knights and their Roman Commander, had believed we were all free. That the man in the carriage we were escorting towards Hadrian's Wall would free us in a few hours time. Yet, the moment I noticed his slip when he mentioned our final days of service and not day, I knew something was wrong.
Thus, I was not too much surprised when Arthur told us of the last mission. Even though I thought it was folly as much as the others did, I didn't voice my concerns. Yet it was Dagonet who was the first to stand by our commander, Dagonet, not me. Not Lancelot, Arthur's best friend and second in command. And after Dagonet, there was Tristan's silent support. I've always known about those two's unwavering loyalty towards Arthur but when I lay in my bed that night I couldn't suppress the thought that at that time they had been better friends than I had. Even worse, I confronted Arthur in the stables, I argued with him even though I didn't mean to, yet the fact that he hadn't even asked me in the courtyard if I would come along had irked me. It was as if I wasn't important enough, as if I could be overlooked, that Arthur only had to say a word and I would come running towards him. Most of the times I do so but it's still no reason to pretend I don't exist. And so, once again, my sharp tongue got away with me.
That mission, that disastrous mission. Not only were we stuck with a Roman pig who enjoyed the torture of others but we had to travel with all the serfs of the estate and to make things even better: we had an entire Saxon army on our tail. Yet the real threat, I perceived in the Woad girl, Guinevere. From the moment I set eyes on her I knew she was trouble. I got even more suspicious when I noticed how she had enchanted Arthur which caused him to doubt everything he had done over the last fifteen years.
I grew bitter; I spent more time apart from the others than I had in all our fifteen years together. They noticed of course, but didn't say anything about it, they knew better than to mess with me when I'm in such a mood. I grew angry at every little thing, I snapped at everyone who dared to approach me. Now I regret that.
The worst was when we lost Dag. Of course we knew the mission was a dangerous one and when we were on the ice we all expected to die but to lose him like that. He had always been selfless, unlike me. He sacrificed himself for us, for Guinevere, for the villagers but most of all; I think he sacrificed himself for the boy, Lucan. Yet to lose one of our own, so close to freedom was the most frustrating thing I ever had to deal with. More so, with the knowledge that if I hadn't hesitated for so long, if I hadn't thought so much of my own life, my selfishness, I could've saved him. Because I shot the archer that shot my comrade, yet I was too late. And Dag paid the price of it, for all of us.
When Arthur told us he'd stay to fight the Saxons, again I can't say I was surprised. I had seen it coming the moment I saw him with Guinevere. And the worst was I couldn't blame her for it. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't. Oh, I know she had something to do with it, she probably drove him crazy with her talk of freedom for her people, but I've known Arthur for fifteen years and I know that man will never abandon people. Even so, now that his dreams had been squashed, he probably saw it as his only reason to live. It's just who Arthur is, and I love him for it.
I tried to dissuade him, knowing even then that it was futile, that he would fight. Suddenly I had the image of a few days ago in my head. It seemed to me as if history was replaying itself and I knew then, that Arthur would probably die in the next battle just as Dag did on our last mission. When I realized that, all strength left me and I could only watch helplessly as my friend of fifteen years walked away from me and to his death with only his hand on my cheek as a final goodbye.
The next morning, I spent packing and repacking my few belongings together, we, the remaining knights with Vanora and Bors' bastards and a few other villagers set off in the afternoon towards the harbour. Yet I couldn't find it in me to be happy. Not with the thought of Arthur fighting those Saxons on his own in my mind. Again I had the image of Dagonet in my head. Brave, gentle Dagonet all alone, hacking at the ice while facing those Saxons. And I was too late to save him. I knew I wouldn't even be there at all to save Arthur, I wouldn't be able to comfort him in his last moments on this earth. It was at that moment I made my decision, just as my horse moved impatiently beneath me. No, this time, I wouldn't be selfish anymore, this time I would be there for my friend and I would see him through this battle as I have so many times before. And as I looked up my eyes met the gazes of my comrades and I knew we had all reached the same conclusion. We would not abandon our commander to face this death alone, for after all, what would Arthur be, without his knights?
And so, I find myself in this battle, a battle I shouldn't even be a part of but I don't regret my decision, Sarmatia can wait a few days longer.
As I turn away from my opponent my gaze falls on Guinevere, fighting the bald Saxon from the lake it's obvious she is losing. I know how much she means for Arthur and without a second thought I jump on my horse and cross the field right on time to block the Saxon's blade as he was going to deliver the fatal blow. I engage him in a duel and am surprised at his strength. Clearly a man of importance. I release all my anger and frustration of the last days in my blows. Thoughts of the Roman Bishop sending us on a suicide mission, thoughts of Dagonet, thoughts of losing Arthur to Guinevere and to this country enter my mind as I deliver blow upon blow to my enemy.
I am distracted as two other Saxons engage me in a fight, yet those two are easily dealt with, having neither the training nor the skill of their bald leader. I turn around to face him again, having seen him move through the corner of my eye, but freeze when pain explodes in my chest. I look down for a moment, not understanding what is happening until I see the crossbow bolt . I look up again and meet the face of the grinning Saxon holding a crossbow. Cheat. I think as anger flares up inside me. With astounding strength I manage to throw one of my swords into his chest. The Saxon looks down in surprise and falls to the ground.
Yet my stubborn nature once again takes a hold of me, as I crawl over to him and with the last ounce of strength I possess, thrust my other sword through his neck until I'm absolutely sure he is defeated. Only then do I allow myself to fall to the ground and let the pain wash over me. My vision is swimming and I feel a dark cold gripping me. My last thoughts are of Arthur as I feel Guinevere coming up beside me trying to reassure me that everything will be all right.
My vision clears again and for a moment I think I might be alive after all until I see my body beneath me, surrounded by Arthur, Guinevere, Gawain, Galahad and Bors. I hear someone calling my name and turn around to face Dagonet and Tristan. They smile at me and say: "Come with us brother, it's time to go home."
And without turning back I follow my brothers into the light.
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