No money is being made from this; I only wanted to play in my own sandbox and invite the characters to join me. I own absolutely nothing that may seem familiar to you in this story, I only own Reagan.
I have taken a bit of artistic license here, for the purposes of this story Lucan's age is going to be 15. I know he didn't appear to be more than 8 in the movie, but it suits the plot better if he is a little older. Gilly is 14 and Reagan's real age is 19, although everyone assumes that she's not more than 13 because of her size. There is a bit of swearing in this chapter. You have been warned!
This is another long chapter, long chapters appear to be the trend for this story.
Many thanks to Homeric and Leigh! You both rock! And thank you to everyone that has reviewed so far, it means a lot!
Now I'm done rambling.
Chapter 4
In the days that followed Reagan's arrival at Hadrian's Wall, her entire world revolved around the stables. She didn't try to go exploring. She was often so busy that when her work was done she would follow the other boys to the kitchens for something to eat and then to the servant's quarters where she'd collapse on her bunk, exhausted, with the sharp smell of hay lingering in her nose.
She found herself desperately trying to acclimate to the busy and different lifestyle she was forced into on a hourly basis, and yet keep to herself as much as possible, so not to draw attention to herself. Three days into it though, Reagan realized she was doing a bad job of trying to stay in the shadows.
There was constant work--hard, sweaty, dirty work. It was not as if she'd never been dirty, but this was a different kind of grunge. Being around horses hour after hour and shoveling their dung and wet hay into buckets, you were bound to get some on you after a while. It also didn't help that on the first day she'd had absolutely no idea how to clean a horse's stall, let alone move the animals out so she could clean. Ganis and Gilly liked to watch her suffer.
Ganis was a tall lanky man with bad skin and even worse teeth. He always got a great laugh out of her various struggles with the horses; not once did he offer to help her. Gilly, a stout, robust teenager with a big mouth, liked to taunt her and threaten to blacken her other eye if she crossed him. Reagan toyed with the idea of giving him the same treatment she'd given Rullus when he bullied her. She knew that however much she'd enjoy kicking Gilly where it counted, the brief satisfaction would not outweigh the repercussions.
Her biggest help had been in the form of a young boy named Lucan. He'd been reluctant to help her at first, but after watching her struggle with a brown mare for more than a half hour he thought it an act of mercy to lend her a hand. He popped his head over the stall wall next to her and gave her a bright smile.
"You're the new boy, aren't you?" As if it wasn't obvious, Reagan thought, biting back a sarcastic retort and returning his bright smile, although she suspected her own was slightly dimmer.
She could remember seeing him around the stables but he always worked opposite her so she'd not gotten a chance to meet him. She gave the horse's lead rein one last frustrated tug and it stared back at her with defiant amber eyes, snorting loudly at her lack of patience. She wrapped the rein tighter around her fist and looked at the horse nose to nose.
"Come here, you stubborn creature!" She all but growled at the horse, still it did not move.
"You know, if you talk real nice to her she might cooperate." Lucan suggested Reagan glared at him,but addressed the horse once more.
"Come here!" She said in the same tone, and then added quietly, "Please." The mare took three steps forward. Reagan's jaw dropped in surprise at the sudden movement from the stationary animal.
"Hate to say I told you so," He said smugly. Shooting the blonde boy a look that would have made grown men cringe, she started talking sweetly to the brown mare, and the sweeter the tone the more the animal conceded to her.
Reagan got her moved into a much cleaner stall and picked up her shovel, pitchfork, and bucket. Once inside the dirty stall she fought the urge to gag at the smell. Putting her arm in front of her nose she tried to shovel a pile of horse dung into the bucket with one hand. A large section tipped off the shovel, landed on the edge of the bucket, and hit the floor with a wet splat. She heard a gleeful laugh from behind her. She turned around to see the boy grinning wildly.
"You act as though you've never smelled horse shit before." Rolling her eyes at him she snapped, "of course I've smelled it before, I've just never had to shovel so much of it." Biting her own tongue before she revealed any more of her lack of knowledge concerning stables, he chuckled to himself before imparting another pearl of wisdom.
"Well, you should try it with two hands, it makes the task much easier, and you're sure to get more in the bucket that way." Thinking he'd been right about everything else up to this point, she tried it his way and the entire pile went into the bucket on the first try.
The boy came alongside her and moved the bucket to the next pile of droppings. With his assistance she'd had all of the dung cleaned off the floor in no time. Then he showed her all of the wet spots and how to move the straw around the stall the correct way so that when the mare moved back in she could make herself a proper bed and not lay in her own filth.
Reagan was hesitant to remove the sodden blanket in the corner but he showed her a way to roll it up so that she didn't have to get her hands too dirty,-- something she wished she'd known three days ago--and then took her to where they kept the fresh horse blankets.
After they'd finished and moved the mare back into her stall she helped Lucan fill the feed dish that was hanging on the door and - changed her water. Lucan grinned at her as she watched the mare chomp on her oats and pieces of carrot. After they were both satisfied with the state of the brown mare. She followed Lucan to the next stall that needed to be taken care of.
"You're an orphan, aren't you?" He asked plainly.
Reagan looked at him, trying not to let the lie show on her face, but knew she failed miserably. Being a poor liar was a character flaw she needed to work on.
"It's all right. Jols has a soft spot for orphan boys-- he used to be one himself."
"How did you know I was an orphan?" She asked, wondering what else this strange boy knew.
"Like recognizes like, I guess." He sighed moving to the next stall where a majestic spotted grey mare gazed down at him. "You've got to excuse Jols, if the king hadn't needed to see him right away, I'm sure he'd be here helping you. Instead, you get me."
He shrugged as if that explained why the stable master thrust a bucket and pitchfork into her hands and then told her to clean out the first stall with the brown mare before taking off to parts unknown. Reagan regarded the boy with a haphazard kindness; he didn't have to help her, he had choosen to.
"So you're an orphan as well?" He nodded, and Reagan watched as he gently reached up and stroked the beautiful horse on the nose. The mare leaned into him and nudged his shoulder affectionately. Reagan was reluctant to admit that he had a way with the animals.
"I'm Lucan, by the way," he said, turning back to her, his large blue eyes regarding her kindly. He was about a head taller than she was but his wiry frame would probably fill out in no time. She guessed him to be a few years younger than she was and despite being rather irked by him at first, his friendly attitude had helped to improve her dark mood.
She smiled at him despite herself and received a strange almost puzzled look from him in return. She immediately stopped smiling and looked anywhere but at him. Clearing her throat she deepened her voice purposely. The fear of being revealed as a female so early in the game made her regret dropping her guard around him.
"I'm Reagan." He nodded and she dared to look back at him, any strange ideas he might have had about her no longer showed on his expressive face.
"You're the boy that came in with the priest a few days ago, aren't you?"
She nodded, and came up alongside him.
"Go on and pet her if you'd like, she won't hurt you." Reagan timidly reached up and stroked the soft fur of the horse's muscular neck.
"She's my favorite. Her name is Skye. She belongs to Tristan."
"Tristan?" Reagan asked, the name sounded familiar, but only because she'd heard it spoken around the kingdom in a tone akin to fear and hero worship.
"He's one of the king's Knights. Sir Tristan." At her blank look he continued.
"Don't tell me you've never heard of the Sarmatian Knights?" When she shook her head he gave her a look of incredulity.
"Where I come from there are no Knights, only the Lords that own the land, the soldiers who obey them, and the serfs who work their fingers to the bone to pay their steep rent," she replied by way of explanation, not quite succeeding in keeping the bitterness out of her voice. She'd heard of the king's Knights but she had no idea how revered the warriors were until she'd arrived in Camelot.
"The Knights of the roundtable: Gawain, Galahad, Tristan, Bors, Dagonet, Lancelot…" He trailed off when she didn't respond to any of the names he mentioned.
"No," she shrugged. Lucan smirked at her and led the beautiful horse out of her stall quite easily. No coaxing required.
"Well then, you're in for a treat, every boy our age knows of them, and if you're lucky you might be chosen to become one of their squires."
"Squires?" she asked, trying not to seem as interested as she was.
"Yes. Boys they choose to train. You learn from them and then eventually become a knight yourself. I'm one of the lucky ones. I'm Dagonet's squire." Reagan looked at him, confused.
"If you're a squire, why are you working in the stables and not serving your Lord?" Lucan laughed at her question and Reagan couldn't understand what was so damn funny. It was an honest question. If he needed to train to become a knight then why would he be wasting a good part of his day working in the stables?
"It's not all swordplay and battle training. There are things we need to learn for ourselves and good hard work, albeit in a stable, is a good way to keep a curious lad out of trouble, or so Dagonet tells me." He reached around for his rake and began tossing the straw about the stall.
She reached for her own pitchfork and propped it up against the next stall. She'd have to start cleaning again, but she was intensely curious. This squire stable boy had told her more things in a few short hours than she'd managed to gather in three days at the fort by herself.
"I'm not the only squire working in the stables." He started rolling up the horse's soiled blanket and looked at her standing on the threshold of the stall. "Gilly's one as well. Although it does help that Bors is his father."
"Gilly is a squire too?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant and doing a bad job of it. Even the mere mention of the rude boy made her want to kick something. "He's a bit of a bully, Gilly is" she said, pushing some hay around with the toe of her boot.
"Don't mind him," Lucan added, getting to his feet. "He's all bark and no bite. A lot like his father, except Bors has a lot more bite." Thinking of the stocky, bull-faced boy and the spiteful way he almost pushed her into a fresh pile of horse droppings on her first day made her think otherwise.
"If I were you, Reagan, I'd make sure I work hard and earn my keep. Practice your talents with a sword and maybe one of the knights will notice you."
Practice her talents? What talents? She couldn't even lift a sword, let alone wield one.
She nodded, pretending to take his advice, and moved to the next stall she was supposed to clean which housed a gorgeous black stallion. Lucan was finishing the grey mare's stall and moving her back in, while Reagan was wondering how in the world she was going to move the massive black horse all by herself.
She was loathe to ask for Lucan's assistance; if she could get the stubborn brown mare to move then she could get this one to move as well. Reagan once again she slid her rope around the horse's thick neck, mindful not to let it get too tight. The great horse shook his head and snorted loudly at her as if in warning. There was something wild in the animal's eyes that Reagan didn't like, something that told her this was a horse to be reckoned with.
"Be careful with him, he's a right spirited horse. He's also got a mean streak in him that's something fierce. Quite a bit like his master." She watched as he finished his last stall and made for the front of the stables.
"I'll see you in the kitchens! I'm off to wash for supper," he shouted over his shoulder. She replied with a noncommittal grunt, more preoccupied with the horse than she was with thoughts of the evening meal, even though her stomach rumbled at the reminder.
Reagan knew she was the last to finish in the stables; this was nothing new to her. It had been that way since her first day. She couldn't leave until her work was done, something she'd made up her mind to accept from the start. She might always be the last to supper but she was going to learn to work in these stables if she had to go hungry for a week or more.
If there was one draw back to being a boy, she had to admit it was strength. Everyone expected you to have it in abundance. Reagan knew her legs were strong, but her arms ached at the end of the day and it was all she could do not to let on that she didn't have the upper body strength that the rest of the boys did. She opened the stall door while holding onto the rope as tightly as she could. Reagan firmly planted her feet on the ground and addressed the horse in a friendly tone.
"This could be a win-win situation. You get a clean stall and some fresh water to drink and I get to finally have one of those tasty biscuits Ganis and Gilly keep eating –in front of me. Now, let's be friends and let me clean your stall?" The horse studied her with dark eyes, and she wondered if it was sizing her up for his next meal. She gave the rope a tug and the horse shook his big head at her, his dark mane glowing in the torchlight.
Suddenly she found herself being dragged further into the stall as the horse backed up. Obviously this horse wasn't going down without a fight. The stallion snorted at her as she tried to get him to move out of the stall once more, the rope wrapped around her fits pulling and burning at her already raw skin. She gritted her teeth against the pain as the horse refused to cooperate.
She had an inclination that this horse, with its muscular body and beautiful dark coat, was without a doubt a beast from hell. She had to admit that he made the stubborn brown mare look like a kitten in comparison. Getting tired of trying to fight with the stallion, she gave the reins one last tug.
"Please help me." She said, her voice sounding pitiful to her own ears. Reagan realized that she'd stooped to begging a horse for a favor and her life had sunk to an even deeper low. The horse regarded her seriously before lowering it's big nose and pushing at her hard.
Startled by the sudden move, she landed on the hard stable floor, trying to catch herself with her hands and managing to get one in a fresh pile of droppings. She felt the stuff ooze between her fingers, warm and foul smelling, and didn't know if she should laugh or cry as the beast stared down at her, seemingly amused at her precarious situation.
"To hell with you, you great beast!" she cried, and the horse danced away from her, becoming skittish at her angry tone. She barely dodged having one of her feet trampled upon when a tall shadow fell over both horse and girl. She looked up, dreading that Gains or Gilly had come to mock her again, and her eyes fell on someone altogether unknown.
He moved with the agile grace of a warrior, each step made with purpose, and his presence seemed to swallow up the available space in the large horse stall, making her feel insignificant. He made quick work of getting the horse to calm down. Grabbing at the reins with a sure and firm grasp, commanding the animal's full attention.
If the great black horse was a beast from hell, then surely the black haired man before her was Satan himself, Reagan thought. He had a strange dark beauty and deadly air about him, which did nothing to lessen her intimidation.
The horse startled once again, only to be calmed by the man's deep soothing voice. The rich vibrations ran through her as well, but instead of soothing her, as it did the horse, it made her shiver. After the horse was settled he continued to stroke its muzzle and neck in a rhythmic pattern, murmuring to it softly in a language she didn't recognize.
So lost in the interaction between animal and master, she didn't notice him reach down and offer his hand to help her up off the ground. He cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look, a scowl creasing the skin between his dark brows.
Reagan mentally shook herself as she slipped her small clean hand into his much larger one. He pulled her up with none of the gracefulness of a gentleman. Instead she was yanked to her feet and she grabbed the stable door for purchase on wobbly legs. Once she was righted he addressed her with a dark accusing glare.
"He can smell your fear." The deep hypnotic voice she'd lost herself in minutes ago now held a chillingly quiet malice and Reagan resisted the urge to shrink up against the stable wall.
"If you want to move him, might I suggest using food as bait instead of pulling hard on his reins? The more you force him the more he will resist." She hadn't even thought of using food as a way to lead the animal out of the stall. She just wanted to finish cleaning the stable so she could eat supper and finally rest. He grabbed a carrot from the feed bin and showed her exactly how to get the difficult animal out of his stall with little or no fuss.
She watched stunned as the stallion followed quite willingly out of the dirty stall and into the clean one she'd been trying so hard to get him to do in the first place. The dark stranger closed the stall door and abruptly turned around to face her. She inwardly flinched at being on the receiving end of his full and undivided attention. Reagan didn't know what to expect next, but she knew for sure that this man would not be as helpful or as kind to her as Lucan had been.
He approached her slowly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Reagan felt rooted to the spot, not sure whether it was from fear or fascination, only knowing that she felt an oppressive heat coming from his incredibly dark eyes and it was startling. He radiated power and intelligence, and judging by his well kept appearance and clothing she suspected that this man was no ordinary soldier of the fort.
"You must be the new boy Jols was telling us about?"
She nodded and swallowed convulsively. Feeling as though her tongue was attached to the roof of her mouth. "Well, in that case, the next time I find you bullying my horse, you'll get bruises that make the ones marring your face look like scratches. Do I make myself clear?" Reagan could only blink at him in disbelief. Did he just threaten to beat her for doing her job? How was it her fault that his horse was difficult to work with?
"Seeing as you're new and obviously Malachi doesn't know you, this time I'll let the incident go." He replied as though he was the most magnanimous man alive. Reagan's fascination quickly turned into annoyance, and the patronizing grin on his face made her palm itch to slap him. Instead she tried to hold her tongue, however difficult it was for her to do so. She then bowed mockingly and blinked up at him in false sincerity.
Satisfied with the exchange, he looked at the dirty stall and then back at her.
"Don't let me keep you from your work,. Supper is almost done and I'm sure you must be hungry." He motioned at her rake and bucket before he turned away, walking toward the front doors of the stable. Watching his retreating back, Reagan couldn't contain her ire any longer. As if she could be dismissed so easily after that scathing put down! She took a deep breath, trying and failing to control her temper.
"Your beast of a horse bullied me more than I bullied him." At that the man turned back around and regarded her with one raised eyebrow, before she could stop herself she added, "He obviously takes after his master in personality as well as looks!"
The man blinked at her, his eyes twinkling, either shocked by her boldness or amazed that she'd managed a semi coherent reply. Then to her surprise, he laughed; the rich sound was like velvet to her ears and a genuine smile made his angular features soften, giving him an almost boyish look. He gave her a once over, taking in her dirty tunic, shit-smeared boots, and hair that hadn't been washed in days.
"I can see that you've earned that black eye and split lip. With your sharp tongue and quick temper, you're going to be on the receiving end of someone's fist more often than you'd like, boy." If only he knew the whole story, she thought, then he'd think twice before reminding her of just how she "earned" her bruises.
"Better to be at the receiving end of someone's fist than crushed under the boot heel of a noble." He looked slightly taken aback at her fierce tone. Reagan began to wonder if perhaps she'd overstepped the line. The charged silence in the stables was so thick that only the heavy sound of the horses' hooves rustling on the stable floor broke the tension.
"I was once like you," he said, quietly addressing her frankly and with none of the arrogance he'd displayed earlier. "Young and angry, easily riled. I enjoyed a good brawl or two in my day, but you have to know not everyone is out to wrap you in chains. Until you learn some respect, I suggest you keep to yourself, do your work properly, and you'll soon find that trying to fight something that won't hit back is a pointless battle."
Reagan gave him a confused look wondering exactly what that meant. "And one more thing: if you ever insult myself or my horse again you will live to regret it." His eyes flashed dangerously and the threat was not lost on her.
He acted as if he owned the world and could push anyone around that got in his way. Reagan knew without a doubt that this posturing, menacing man was a noble, a filthy, rotten noble, just like Rullus. She would not stand to be bullied by another pompous Lord who thought her only worthy task was to bend down and kiss his boots.
Her eyes narrowed and her anger flared again as she watched his retreating back once more. Thinking it remote that he would see, she raised her arm at him in a rude gesture she'd seen some of the boys back home use toward each other. Having a vague idea of what it meant, she thought it fitting that it be directed at him. It was just her luck that Jols chose that moment to return to the stables.
"Reagan!" He shouted, shocked. Eyes wide, she quickly lowered her arm, putting her hands behind her back, hoping against hope that Jols' exclamation hadn't given her away. It was unfortunate that Reagan's luck had completely run out.
"I saw that!" The man said not turning around. Jols gave him a panicked look and the man calmly nodded in greeting. "Jols." The stable master gave him a half-hearted nod, looking from the man and then back to where she was standing looking like a scared rabbit.
"Lancelot." She heard Jols reply. At the mention of his name a wave of dread washed over Reagan. The pompous, posturing noble was one of the knights Lucan had been telling her about. One of the head knights, if she remembered correctly, who was very close to the king.
It was then that Reagan realized she'd just done something very rude and worthy of great punishment to the King's first knight. She watched in dread as both men directed their attention toward her.
Without realizing what she was doing Reagan took a few steps back. If she had been paying attention to where she was going and what she was doing, she would have realized that her left foot had knocked over her droppings bucket.
As it was she was entirely focused on Lancelot and Jols. As if her life couldn't possibly get any worse, her right foot landed just right in the spilled droppings and she slipped, landing hard on her bottom, square in the middle of the spilled droppings. As Reagan stared up from her dung-covered spot on the floor of the stables, the two men who had every right to be angry with her began to laugh uproariously. It was then that she realized, as her face turned a very bright shade of red, that sitting in a pile of horse dung while the stable master and the first knight laughed at you was punishment enough for any crime.
A/N: Huge thanks go to Homeric for all of the extra help she offered on this chapter and for her knowledge of horses. I know nothing about horses that I've not read and she was very patient and kind in her explanations. Thankfully this will be the last chapter I will have to write which takes place in only the stables :) Reagan's encounter was not the most glamorous way to meet Lancelot, but by all accounts one of the most embarrassing! Apologies to all of you that read all of the hurried mistakes of Chapter 3. I'd promise you won't have to wait long for Chapter 5, but alas I am going on vacation to a little place called Disney World. It's my anniversary you know, gotta celebrate! I can say that if you're still interested you won't have to wait long for the next update. Till then happy reading! I'm off to ride the Haunted Mansion…HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
