Disclaimer: As Chapter One; so please, for the love of God, do not make me keep writing it out people!
WARNING: BAD LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE AND SOME SEXUAL REFERENCES (though not too graphic) SO READ AT YOUR OWN PERIL.
All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.
'Thoughts'
"Speech"
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OUTCASTS
Chapter Two – Defiance.
Kit rode back in the next evening with a dead deer slung across her horse; back at the stables she made short work of cleaning, skinning, gutting and dividing the meat from the carcass. A few hours later a happy Jols found a parcel of meat sitting by his door, he knew it was her 'payment' for letting her stay in the stables; he made stew with some and set about drying the rest.
Van heard a long whistle from outside; Gilly ran out and shouted gleefully to his mother "Ma! Ma! Kit has brought some meat!"
There was no one there, as there usually were not, but Van knew that Kit had been the one to leave the large amount of meat for them. Bors staggered out of the sleeping area "What is all the noise?" he asked groggily rubbing his face.
His lover waved the raw and bloody meat under his nose "be thankful that we have a friend who is generous."
He heaved slightly at the smell and look of it "damn sickness……I cannot help being ill wench!"
"You could if you only left the ale alone long enough!" Van scoffed and cuffed his head before heading off to make stew for them.
He muttered testily about "bloody women", but smiled at the generosity of his Van's little friend "I will go fetch Dag shall I?"
"Aye, aye….do what you wish, just get out from under my bloody feet – 11 children is enough; I have no need of another large baby to tend."
He left muttering some more….
"Who said I would have you if you asked me!" Van yelled, having heard him. The last word she heard Bors mumble was 'Witch'; at least that was what it sounded like.
She chuckled at his retreating back…..
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Back at the battlements Kit was tucking into her own stew. Sat outside on the wall she was staring intently up at the sky, kicking her feet against the stone almost like a child; she seemed, to any watching her, completely oblivious to the world around her.
One soul was watching her – from the dark stairway Tristan stared, transfixed by her as he had been the first time he had seen her. He could no more explain why it was so, than he could leap over the moon; but he was - there was something about her that he felt drawn to. Maybe it was the way folk spoke of her, like she was some unclean thing – something to fear, to revile…….much as they did him.
He sighed, Galahad's particular vilification of both he and the wench before him was becoming the most tiresome; he could see that he would have cut the pup down to size fairly soon if things were not brought to heel quickly. Better to have him need only healing at Tristan's hands, than burial at hers.
A clunking sound drew his attention and he watched her put down her bowl and wooden spoon. She sighed and studied the sky once more as if looking for something, she seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders and he felt for her. Yet for all her isolation she did not seem to mind, seemed to enjoy it almost…..but did she? He gave the same impression; that he preferred to be alone, and for the most part he did…..but sometimes it irked him.
There was another clunk and the bowl appeared before him, full once more; dark blue eyes regarded him silently and she stepped away, walking quickly back to the stables with the pot from which she had twice filled the bowl. He took her place on the wall and ate thoughtfully…….
Down below a silent Arthur watched and smiled…..like to like it certainly was. Still, now it was time to take the tiger by the tail. He turned and made his way to the stable, wondering if he would see daylight again.
She was sat on the hayrick ladder singing to her own horse and Tristan's. Arthur stopped by the door so as not to draw her attention and cause her to cease; he wondered how she could be called animal with a voice like that, a pitiful strength of emotion in every word that made you see her soul. She had been badly wounded in her very heart's centre and so she stepped back, as did his scout, of that he was sure. No one could sing like that otherwise.
It irritated him immensely that she was singled out so for no good reason he could see…..well, apart from the killing; and was not Tristan the same? But then he was treated as badly, but was as accepting. He rubbed his hand over his face as the song ceased; then something amazing happened….she laughed.
Well, chuckled actually – but still, her face formed a smile and not a frown and a noise came out that was neither hiss nor growl…….all because Tristan's horse seemed sad she had stopped and pawed the ground sulkily.
"You'm like the pup, boy." She chuckled "he sulks like a good 'un too. I doubt yourn master would be too happy to see you behavin' like a bratty pup." The horse tossed it's head as if agreeing and neighed, her own mount adding his voice causing her to chuckle once more "and you cannot keep your nose out of others business brute, can you? Nosey boy, eh? Nosey boy and sulky boy; you'm make a good pair." Something caught her attention and she was down and facing the door before Arthur could move.
She went to advance on him and he thought it better to show himself "it is only me, Arthur; come to see how you fare."
Her eyes narrowed almost to slits, but then she seemed to think of something and lowered her blades….slightly; before rubbing one edge on the other. He smothered the smile; she was making it clear she could kill him if she felt like it.
"I mean no harm." he held his hands up.
"First roman I met that does." She muttered to no one in particular, before walking backwards to the horses; putting distance between them. Arthur knew better than to follow – you never cornered a wild….he stopped himself from thinking 'animal'; but she certainly looked almost feral now.
"Well, there is a first time for everything I have found Kit; is that your given name?"
She stared and shrugged "like I said 'afore that is what folk here call me, you may as well follow – or you would you prefer 'animal' like yon pup of yourn?"
Arthur sighed "Galahad means no harm; he does not always think before speaking."
She nodded "still wet behind the ears, and the arse I reckon." She shook her head ruefully "dumb pup."
He saw a bad cut on her arm "How come you by that wound?"
She glanced down "Woad…."
"Was there a problem?"
"Was…not no more." She smiled the way that Tristan did; cold and happy at the same time – Arthur forced himself not to shudder.
"Do you often fight the Woads?" He edged a little further into the stables; she tensed "It is a little cold out there, do you mind?"
She made more distance between them, glanced all around to make sure no one was creeping up on her and then shrugged at him, so he stepped further in as she finally replied "I fight whoever might kill me."
"Logical. So you fight Romans too?"
She rolled her eyes and repeated it slower "I…fight…whoever...might…kill...me."
"Sorry, of course. But you like Romans less."
"Raped me did they not? Not going to endear them is it?" Dark blue eyes held his green ones.
He nodded "Nay, I am sure you are right." He cast about for more to say as small talk, came up empty and decided to get to the point – particularly as she was looking bored and was now making practice swings with her blades. "You should come with us….here." he pointed to their barrack rooms "we should stick together."
"We?" she raised an eyebrow "You'm Roman, roman – you ain't one of us."
"I am half Briton and do not believe in all the Romans do. I am Christian, I am a follower of Pelagius, I believe that all men are equal and my best friends are Sarmatian. It does not endear me to the Romans garrisoned here."
"Christian? You believe in the 'one true God' then?"
He nodded "What do you believe in?"
"These." She held up her blades.
He sighed "My faith tells me 'He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.'"
"Mayhap." She nodded her agreement, dark eyes regarding him passively "but there will be plenty dying by mine. A warrior's death is all we can expect if we fight."
"I fight for peace and the freedom of my knights; naught more."
"Their freedom is one thing roman….but there is no such thing as peace. There will always be a battlefield and someone to fight on it." There was a pause "even your God knows that."
"What do you mean?" Arthur was perplexed.
"Did he not visit plagues on the Egypt people, killing many of them – even children? Did not David kill Goliath?" she nodded as if answering herself "always a battle, always a fight."
"But they fought for…."
"Aye, but they fought…."
He heard a noise outside the doors and turned to see Tristan coming in; when he turned back she was gone. "She knows the Holy Book" he said incredulously.
The scout shrugged "she makes good stew too."
When Tristan went to his room a little later, a red apple sat outside his door….when she returned to the hayloft, a green one sat on her bedding pack. Both smirked as they ate them.
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Two weeks later a limping horse brought a damaged bundle of rags into the fort; Jols was away with the knights and had, extremely gingerly, asked Kit to keep an eye on the stables in his absence as the soldiers were terrors for stealing his supplies.
She had done so and the body count had only been three. The soldiers quickly decided that a bit of pilfering was not worth dying for, especially as no one knew what happened to the bodies.
So she was there when a soldier edged up to the door and called out before running off. She approached the beast confidently and calmed it quickly; taking it inside she was surprised when the bundle moved and began to squawk.
She picked it up and shook it…….a child fell out onto the ground. The shock making it cry all the harder; she took a good look at it, ignoring the squirming and wailing and judged it to be fairly uninjured – although it did have a wound on its arm. It also proved to be a girl child of not more than two summers old. She dealt with the injured horse, then the child's wound before tucking the squirming infant under her arm like a bag of washing, but now bundled back up in her rags, and made her way to the tavern.
She scattered people as she went, all aghast at the child's wriggling and hiccupping tears but none brave enough to approach her "Van? Van!" she called when she reached the ale house.
The small woman bustled out and quelled the laughter as she saw Kit vainly trying to hang on to a squirming toddler. "where did you find it?"
"It is a she…..came in on the back of a horse. Horse was injured, arrows…..not Woad though." She seemed to be off thinking who might be responsible, apparently unconcerned for the infant.
Van rolled her eyes "Aye, but what of the child?"
Kit shrugged "right enough – a cut on her arm is all; I dealt with it. No one with her though, reckon they are dead. You have her….you have got many, one more will not hurt."
Van stepped back, now laughing openly and holding up her hands "nay lass, I cannot deal with another – I have still got two of my own in napkins. Nay, you deal with her."
"I do not want her." Kit dumped the child on the ground "it matters naught to me what happens to her; I thought you would deal with her; but if not I am sure she will fend for herself well enough, I did." She turned on her heel to go.
The little girl stopped crying immediately, wiping her snotty nose on her arm she got awkwardly to her feet and toddled after Kit. The woman stopped and turned, frowning "Nay, I want thee not. Go, shoo!" she flapped her hand at the babe.
The child stood regarding the woman solemnly, but as Kit flapped her hands at her the bottom lip stuck out and big fat tears welled in the large light blue eyes. Kit huffed, turned and stalked away, the child followed; as did Van, who could not miss this.
About 200 hundred feet further on a roman soldier stepped in front of the scrap "What do we have here?" he picked her up by the scruff of her raggedy gown and cloak "a runt if ever I saw one; we drown runts here." He grinned maliciously and stalked over to a water butt, holding the squirming child over it; a shrill cry from her rent the air "MAMA!"
Van caught her as the man involuntarily released her and his head rolled across the ground….stopping at the feet of Arthur. He sighed and looked at the two women.
Kit shrugged "he would drown the child….what would you have me do?"
"Reason with him?"
"Why bother? This was quicker."
"You cannot reason with an animal." Galahad muttered.
Kit was in front of him before any could move "Call me what you will pup, but I was not the one about to drown an infant." She looked round at those gathered and snorted her derision before walking away.
"What about the girl?" Arthur called.
"I care not – keep her, eat her" her glinted mischievously as she turned to the commander "she is not mine."
The child wriggled out of Van's arms and trotted after Kit "it seems she has other ideas!" Arthur called "Anyway, no one here could protect her as well as you. What if another tries to kill her?"
Kit stopped dead and turned; none were sure what she would do "Then I will deal with her, for this shambles cannot continue. But it will not be by drowning; a sword is quicker." She stared at the crowd "I will not make you watch either." She hoisted the child under her arm like dirty washing and marched to the stables; not even pausing when the child called her mama once more.
"She would not….she would not….." Galahad stammered "not even she would do that! She saved her after all….." he stared at Van "she would not….would she?"
Before the woman could answer, a scream rent the air and a few moments later Kit came out wiping blood from her hand "it is done, she did not even fight much" before returning to the stables.
The knights had to hold back a struggling Bors and Galahad. Gawain turned to Tristan and Dagonet "I smell a rat."
The scout shrugged "the child would not survive alone, she did the kindest thing; it was quicker than drowning."
Dagonet looked sick "I cannot believe she would do it though."
Tristan turned "what choice did any give her? None wanted the brat, so what was she to do? We animals choose the survival of the fittest." he stalked off.
Galahad had to be restrained from rounding on him by Gawain. Arthur shook his head at the blond knight "I cannot believe she did it."
"I do not think she did."
At that moment Kit came out carrying a bloody bundle, tied it to the back of her horse and stared defiantly at the others "I go to burn her and spread her ashes to the east wind; as none wanted her she should go to her ancestors and rest in peace now." She came back out with her saddlebags, strapped them to her horse and rode out.
Van shook her head – she could not really believe that Kit had done this terrible thing; but she would not put it past her entirely either, after all she would not put it past Tristan and they were much alike were they not?
She looked round the horrified and angry faces of the knights with a few exceptions, namely Tristan and Lancelot (both of whom felt Kit had been pushed into it) and realised she would be doing much smoothing of outraged morals before the other's return – assuming she came back at all.
Dag asked the question she knew the others were bound to ask also over the next few days "Do you think she really did it? Gawain still thinks not."
Van reached deep down inside herself and answered as honestly as she could……..
"I do not know….truly, I do not."