Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur, just my OCs and plot
"Isolde." The old woman rolled the name around her mouth as if she were sampling fine wine. "It is a good name, it suits you."
Isolde merely nodded at her before leaning her head against the hard, wooden side of the carriage.
"If you don't mind me asking where was your carriage? You said you had been traveling." Lorie's question jolted Isolde out of the stupefied daze she had been falling into.
"I wasn't in a carriage, I was riding."
"Riding? Truly? You can ride a horse?" Lorie's voice was suddenly as lively and excited as her eyes.
Ambrosa looked down her nose as she gave a reproachful cough, but Lorie merely ignored her maid, still looking at Isolde with childish excitement.
Lories sat back in her seat, only to be jostled out of it once more, an envious look on her face. "It must be wonderful, to be able to ride a horse, I've never been taught."
"I could teach you, perhaps, if Lady Ambrosa does not mind."
Ambrosa did not answer the unspoken question, refusing to bend to the will of the younger women. Lorie turned away from her with a 'huff', pouting as she stared at the wall of the carriage.
Isolde was thrown forward as the carriage hit a large rut in the road. She settled back into her seat and once again lent her head against the uncomfortable side.
The inside of the carriage was consumed by silence as they traveled the remaining few miles to the town they would be staying in.
~o~
Isolde was awoken by the carriage rumbling to a stop. Instantly alert, the Woad listened with her eyes closed as voices came from outside the immobile coach. From what she could hear, they had reached their destination and were being 'welcomed' by the guards. The door was suddenly thrown open, admitting the head of a Roman officer.
"Forgive me, m'ladies, but I need to know who you are and where you are headed.
Ambrosa gave him a fierce glare before complying with his request. "I am Lady Ambrosa, a lady-in-waiting to House Blancemal. This is the Lady Lorie Blancemal and an acquaintance, the Lady Isolde. We are heading to the fort at Badon Hill, at Lord Blancemal's request.
"Of course, m'lady." The office said before turning to look at the man driving the carriage. "You may proceed." He then shut the door and after a moment they were moving again.
After a short time, the coach stopped once again, this time the driver got down and opened the door before heading back to the top to untie their luggage.
Ambrosa was the first to move, stretching her arms and grumbling about aching bones and bumpy carriages. Lorie followed her out of the dark confines of the carriage, giving Isolde a tired smile. Isolde was surprised to find that even she was feeling the effects of being in a carriage for a few hours.
Isolde's senses were immediately assaulted by sitghts and smells that she was unaccustomed to as she stepped out into the streets. Men and women were bustling around the narrow streets as nightfall drew ever closer, shouting to each other, and skillfully maneuvering around others. The carriage had stopped at the side of what looked to be a housing establishment, either a tavern or an inn, or perhaps both. The driver was busy throwing chests and satchels from the roof of the carriage while Lorie and Ambrosa huddled together to the side. Isolde slowly moved to join them, subconsciously keeping an eye on the commotion around them while quietly standing close to Lorie. The driver suddenly called out to someone, and two young-looking lads, more than likely stable boys, ran out from a side building and waited a little ways from the women.
The driver retrieved the last bags from the roof before jumping down and motioning to the two boys to begin taking the luggage.
Ambrosa nodded to the commanding officer, who was sitting on his horse some feet away. He immediately dismounted and handed the reigns of his steed of to another young boy who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The gruff Roman soldier strode forward and led the women into the building.
It was even noisier than the streets. Isolde winced slightly as the sounds of drunken men and cackling barmaids burst into the air. Romans were crowded onto benches around the room, laughing, joking, and talking coarsely. The women were carrying trays with mugs full of some sort of potent liquid, probably ale; their dresses were hung low, barely serving their purpose. Some were seated on the laps of the intoxicated soldiers.
Isolde wrinkled her nose in disgust, Roman pigs.
They were approaching a counter. The Roman officer in charge of the journey slammed his fist down on the wood counter. A man, the innkeeper Isolde assumed, hurried out from a small room in back.
"What can I do for you m'lord?" The thin, greasy man asked, his voice oily, his greedy black eyes wandering around their assorted party.
"I need a room for the ladies as well as lodging for my men. One night." His voice was firm, a no-nonsense tone.
The smaller man cowered slightly under the commander's gaze. "Very well, I can give you five rooms, one gold coin apiece."
The commander's eyes narrowed at the price, but he did not argue. He withdrew a leather purse from his belt and counted out five gold coins. "Here you are." He growled, tossing the gold pieces at the innkeeper whose thin fingers scrabbled to catch them. "Some will sleep in the stable with the horses, I expect oats and hay to care for them."
"Of course, of course." The innkeeper said, moving out from behind the counter and moving past the small party towards some stairs in the back. "Follow me, this way."
Isolde turned around and followed the innkeeper and commander, staying close to Lorie who looked paler than ever in the rowdy atmosphere. They went up a narrow flight of stairs and down a hallway.
"These four will be for you and your men, commander." The innkeeper said, gesturing towards the rooms as they passed them. "And this for the lovely ladies." He stopped at the last door in the hall and opened it. Ambrosa swept past him, a glare on her face as she stared him down. Lorie timidly ducked into the room, followed closely by Isolde.
"Commander, please have the driver bring up our smaller trunks. Is there anything you need from your luggage, Isolde?"
The girl in question looked up from where she was staring out the window.
"Um, just ask him to bring up my satchel, please." She said as she turned back to the streets below.
The commander shut the door behind him as he followed the innkeeper back down the hallway.
Ambrosa was already setting herself on the pallet nearest to the door, and Lorie on one by the opposite wall, leaving Isolde the one beside her.
Isolde continued looking out at the darkening sky, already hating this dirty, stinking town. It was awful, with its stench, its rotting buildings, its Romans. She looked out past the light from the torches, the dark mass of the great forest barely visible in the distance.
Some time later the driver knocked on the door, leaving two small trunks and Isolde's satchel with them.
The three sat up a bit, talking quietly, more so on Ambrosa and Lorie's part, on how the fort would be, if they would be safe on the remaining leg of the journey, and if Lorie could be taught to ride a horse, which Ambrosa refused to give a straight answer to.
Eventually all lay down on their respective pallets to sleep, Isolde only drifting off lightly, prepared for danger.
~o~
Isolde woke before her two new companions. The grey light of dawn streaming in through the poorly shielded window. Already sounds of people in the streets were permeating the morning air. She stretched, lazily popping her arms and wrists as she sat up and gathered all of her belongings.
Eventually Ambrosa and Lorie began to stir, blearily washing their faces with icy water from a pitcher that had been placed in the room by a maid some hours before.
A little less than an hour later, judging by the sun, the two other women had finished getting ready, not that there was much to do as they wouldn't change their clothing until they reached their destination.
Ambrosa had called a maid and ordered her to inform the commander that they were ready to depart, before disappearing from the small room, muttering something about breakfast as she left.
Lorie and Isolde sat in companionable silence, Isolde thankful that the younger girl was too tired for questions. She was a curious little thing, Lorie. Very frail and delicate on the outside, but Isolde suspected a hidden inner strength. She could almost imagine her a younger sister, nothing like Guinevere of course, just the opposite. All the same, she thought Guinevere would like her. It was too bad she was a Roman, though she had an almost unusual amount of curiosity, and she wanted to learn to ride, that was saying something.
The door suddenly opened and Ambrosa entered the room, a package of some sort under her arm. "Well come on, don't just sit there and dawdle, we should reach Badon Hill before nightfall."
The two younger women leapt to their feet and followed Ambrosa from the room, a stable boy entering behind them to retrieve their luggage.
They retraced their steps from the previous night, back down the stairs, and on through the now deserted tavern, out onto the bustling streets and to the carriage. The driver was once again on top while the Roman soldiers mulled around, some mounted and some holding their horses' reigns.
The small stable boys who were dragging their luggage exited behind them and headed over to the carriage, waiting to hand the trunks and satchel up to the driver who was securing the rest of the luggage.
Ambrosa led the way to the carriage. The commander met them there, opening the door and helping them back inside the gloomy space.
As they settled into the stuffy interior and waited to start once more, the older woman brought out the package she had been carrying, opening it to reveal some slightly withered apples and half a loaf of bread, which at least looked fresh.
"We'll have a nice warm meal once we reach the fort, but for now we'll have to do with this and what we have left of our midday food."
Isolde, Lorie, and Ambrosa each took an apple, and the older woman broke the bread into three roughly equal parts, handing one to each of the younger women and keeping the last for herself.
They began eating as the carriage jolted into movement once more, settling into its constant rocking motion.
~o~
Isolde was sore and tired. All she wanted to do was curl up on a bed of heather under a spreading oak and fall asleep to the music of the laughing brook that wound around the main camp. But no, she was stuck in their awful, wooden contraption, and it would be a long time before she could sleep under the stars again.
They had stopped for midday meal several hours before, or at least she thought it was several hours. It was difficult to tell in the carriage. The meal had been as meager as the morning meal, just some bread, cheese, and salted meat.
The carriage suddenly began to slow, and there was a knock on the door before the commander opened it slightly.
"M'ladies! Badon Hill is in sight, we will reach it within the next hour."
Ambrosa thanked the commander, who nodded and shut the door again, the carriage slowly resuming its former movement.
Ambrosa and Lorie appeared happy and relieved, their journey almost over. Isolde tried to match their expressions, but on the inside all she felt was tense and alert. They had arrived; her mission was beginning. She had reached Badon Hill.
