Chapter 1: Life hasn't changed that much, then
Iseult was sat in a chair, feeding her child. The fire in her warm room burned away cheerfully. Iseult stared into the flames, pictures conjured up before her. Her son was two weeks old and he still had no name. Iseult wanted it to fit him perfectly.
"Oh, darling, what are we going to do about you?" she said, stroking the baby's cheek. Her son looked up, staring into his mother's eyes, ice-blue looking at ice-blue' His eyes were undoubtedly Iseult's, but his small tuft of hair was a dark brown. Iseult could make out no other features on her son's face that would belong to either Tristan or Lancelot. In a way, she was glad; if the child was Tristan's then Lancelot wouldn't notice- at least for the moment.
The sound of footsteps can along the corridor outside. A knock at the door, then Lancelot's face appeared round the edge of it as it opened.
"Er…Iseult, there's a…a, er…" Iseult raised and eyebrow.
"A what? I am a little busy Lancelot." Lancelot gave a short, embarrassed cough.
"Yes…well…Arthur has found a…wet nurse…for you." Iseult didn't understand.
"A…wet nurse?" Iseult repeated the words carefully. "What's that in Briton?" She really had to brush up on her Latin.
"She's been told to come her and help you feed the child." Iseult suddenly realised what Lancelot meant and stared. Lancelot sighed.
"Apparently you are too…important here to be seen-"
"Doing what comes naturally?" Iseult finished. Lancelot gave an apologetic shrug and a desperate look and Iseult knew that the matter was out of both their hands. She had thought that this sort of thing would have been abolished once the Romans left, but clearly Arthur was still Roman enough to care about those sorts of things. She sighed and relented, getting up.
"Let her in, then." Lancelot stood aside and let in a woman years older than Iseult. Iseult reluctantly handed over her son and watched for a few minutes to see if he would take to this stranger. She had no need to worry, however. She suddenly felt Lancelot's hand on her shoulder and turned with a small gasp to see him smiling down at her. Iseult smiled back and forced herself to leave the room. When she shut the door, Lancelot began his apology.
"Iseult, I'm sorry, I tried to-" Iseult silenced him with a finger on his lips.
"I know, I know. You tried to stop it. Clearly Arthur still has a little too much Roman in him still" Lancelot stiffened a little, and Iseult stopped herself from criticising Arthur for the 100th time. "If I'm honest," she continued, "It leaves me a little more time to myself. I can see more of the world and-" she kissed him lightly. "More of you." Lancelot grinned like a little boy and kissed her back, lingering a little. Iseult pulled back and looked deep into his eyes with a knowing look.
"But you have things to do, I suppose?" she asked. Lancelot nodded, then kissed her again and let out a sigh. Iseult broke the silence and gave him a push.
"Go," she told him. Lancelot frowned.
"You'll be alright?" he enquired.
"Yes. I can make my own fun, you know that," she told him, grinning slyly. Lancelot smiled and winked, then turned and walked off, leaving Iseult alone in the corridor. She clicked her tongue and tapped her hips with the palms of her hands as she decided what to do. With a last look to her right at the room where her son was, she set off, walking into the belly of the fortress. At this time of ay it would be almost empty, with everyone in the fields or tending animals; sword-fighting and attending to disputes between village elders. Iseult began to explore all the rooms and ante-chambers she had not yet discovered. It was only after a couple of hours doing this, while she was walking along a narrow, windowless passage, did she realise that she was being followed. She halted a moment, then continued walking until she could turn and the follower would have nowhere to hide; there being no doors in this passageway either.
When she turned, she was nearly shocked out of her skin. Actually, was she? She couldn't tell. Perhaps it was merely the fact that her suspicions had been right.
"Tristan, why are you following me?" Iseult asked, frowning. Tristan moved slowly forwards into the light of a flickering torch set into the wall.
"I wanted to see you," he said quietly. Iseult stared blankly at him. Tristan wondered what she was thinking. She looked older suddenly. Maybe it was the light. He moved closer towards her, looking deep into her eyes. He smiled to himself as he realised that she couldn't look away. Her eyes were still as bright as ever. Iseult looked deep into his, wondering for a moment if she would ever see that light in them again.
"What?" she whispered, barely audible above their breathing. The energy between them was intense. Iseult's heart flickered slightly against her rib cage. Tristan took another step closer so that there was only an inch between them. He had her right where he wanted her. All he needed now was some sort of sign.
Iseult knew that this was wrong but…oh, she wanted something from him so badly. Tristan seemed cautious, though.
"I'm not going to break, you know," she told him. This seemed to seal it for Tristan. His lips brushed against Iseult's, then he was sweeping aside her mane of hair, kissing her neck. Iseult brought his head back level with hers and kissed him lightly, and he kissed back harder. His hand glided up her torso and rested against her breast.
"Iseult knew that this was wrong. She had had what she wanted from him and now she mist stop. But just as she was about to, Tristan pulled away. Iseult didn't know what to do. He just stood there and a devious flicker crossed his face. It was then that she realised with horror; he had been making sure that she still wanted him. Anger and frustration boiled up inside her and she stormed down the corridor away from him without another word. Oh, how could she have been so stupid? She couldn't let that happen again. No. He wasn't going to get as much as a look out of her.
And he didn't. Over the next week, she blanked him completely. A few times they passed each other in the main corridors of the fort, but Iseult pretended he wasn't there; she was so angry with him! Tristan seemed a little put out, but you could never tell with him unless he made it completely obvious. Iseult was upset too. The way she had felt when he kissed her. She knew now that it wasn't only Lancelot that would have trouble staying faithful.
Lancelot had been busy over the last few days, away from the fort with the other knights as they attended to matters that Iseult was not enlightened about, which annoyed her a little. She had been given someone else to look after her son, and yet she still couldn't involve herself in helping Arthur with the locals. Men were very hypocritical sometimes. Actually, most of the time. Even though the wet-nurse was looking after her son, Iseult didn't like leaving him for long; she was worried that he wouldn't recognise her and become too attached to this woman, whose name she had found out was Bebhinn, meaning harmony.
By the end of the week Lancelot ha returned, unbeknown to Iseult. It was early evening and her son was back with Bebhinn while she was in her room sitting at a table, absent-mindedly writing when she felt a hand at her neck. She spun round in her seat to see Lancelot standing behind her, very dirty and beaming. Iseult leapt up and flung her arms around his neck, kissing his face. She abruptly stopped doing that when the smell hit her nostrils.
"What have you been doing? Rolling around in pig swill?" Lancelot laughed. Iseult was serious, he clearly hadn't noticed.
"Oh, thank-you. I'm messy, dirty, I come straight to see you and you tell me I smell. I really feel wanted now. Iseult wondered how she could tell him sincerely that he really did smell. She decided she couldn't do it sincerely and turned around, clearing up the paper and ink. As she did so, she heard Lancelot taking off his armour and then he had wrapped his arms around her waist.
"I missed you," he told her. Iseult smiled and closed her eyes.
"So did I. Makes the smell a little more bearable." She kissed him on the cheek as she turned to face him. He chuckled to himself and pulled her closer to him, his hands in the small of her back. She tugged at his shirt, pulling the hem out of his trousers and pulling it over his head. Lancelot loosened the cross-lacing on the front of Iseult's dress, and was half-way down when a knock came at the door. Iseult froze and Lancelot looked up, rolling his eyes.
"Who is it?" he called, clearly put-out. Guinevere's voice called back to him.
"Sorry to disturb you, Lancelot, (Iseult had the distinct feeling that she had been listening) but Arthur needs your presence. There's more trouble brewing between the tribes." Lancelot groaned and glared at Iseult who was more than a little annoyed. She clicked her tongue, sighed, and turned to pick his shirt up from off the chair and held it out in front of her for him to take. He took it an put it on, then stood up straight and gave Iseult an apologetic look before turning, walking across the room and opening the door.
Guinevere stood a little back from the door but Lancelot still had to squeeze past her. She looked up at him with the same sort of wondering look she had used on him when she had first been rescued nearly 10 months ago. Lancelot quickly looked away and stormed off into the shadows. Guinevere watched him walk off and looked back to see Iseult staring at her, clearly clocking on to the gaze she had given Lancelot. The two girls had had little reason to talk to each other, and they weren't about to start now. Iseult gave Guinevere a withering look and slowly shut the door in her face. Guinevere smiled an walked off with a triumphant air.
