Chapter 4

The way back to the Wall was cold and bleak. The small company of nine caught up to the main caravan the next morning, but it took them three days to make it to the Roman fort of Camboglanna on Hadrian's Wall. Though Evony did everything she could for the giant knight, Dagonet lay ill with fever. His brothers in arms kept a close watch on him, lest he slip away in the night.

As the knights and the caravan wearily trod through the main gates of the fort, Bishop Germanus and his Roman entourage greeted them.

"Ah, God! Christ be praised! Against all the odds Satan could muster. Alecto, let me see you!" the Bishop said, approaching the family's wagon to greet the young master Honorius with open arms.

"Kindly get out of my way!" the Bishop's manservant, Horton, huffed through from the caravan. He had not enjoyed his mandatory journey with Arthur and his knights one bit.

"You have triumphed! Young Alecto, let me see you!" Bishop Germanus said again, reaching for the young Roman who was shying away from his grasp. "You are here!"

As Lancelot helped Evony down from his horse, she heard Guinevere shout, "Lucan!"

The boy ran through the gates searching for Dagonet. He had not been let near the fallen giant since they had rejoined the caravan. Instead, he rode with the family in the safety of their cart.

"You, boy! Stop!" a Roman officer shouted as Lucan ran past. The officer was immediately halted with the blade of Galahad's dagger at his throat. The boy had become a child of the knights by default for his affection toward Dagonet. No Roman would be allowed to deny him passage, lest he wish to lose his head.

Guinevere followed Lucan to Dagonet, draped carefully over his horse still burning from fever. The Bishop watched on as tears began to stream down Lucan's face while the little boy grabbed onto the large hand of the unconscious knight. Evony glanced around and noticed that all the Sarmatian knights were at attention, ready to strike down any Roman that denied the boy a moment with his savior. Their aggression was a result of stress, not knowing if their brother would make it through the fever or welcome death's embrace.

Bishop Germanus sensed the tension and chuckled, his arms still spread wide as if he were presenting a holy address to his congregation, "Our great knights! You are free now! Give me the papers! Come, come."

The bishop motioned to one of his guard for the knight's papers. A Roman officer brought forth a wooden box with its edges gilded in gold. Opening the lid, Evony saw the treasured scrolls of freedom fastened inside. It was a freedom that her father had never known.

"Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire," Bishop Germanus couldn't hide his nervousness behind his toothy smile. He looked to Arthur for assistance, "Take it, Arthur."

Arthur stepped forward and stood uncomfortably close to the Bishop, wiping the smile off the shorter mans face immediately.

"Bishop Germanus, friend of my father," Arthur seethed as a warning before walking away.

Lancelot walked forward and seized the scrolls of paper in his hands. Turning, he handed a scroll to each of his brothers.

"You are free now," the Bishop informed them, "You can go."

Lancelot gave Evony a very grave glance as he passed by her and stood in front of Bors with two scrolls in hand. The portly knight was shaking with anger, his eyes tearing up at the thought that his best friend may not live to truly be free.

"Bors," Lancelot said in a quiet tone of voice. When Bors did not acknowledge him, Lancelot nudged him with the scrolls and tried again, "Bors!" Finally, Bors looked at him, "For Dagonet."

Bors looked down at the scrolls and grabbed them from Lancelot angrily, "This doesn't make him a free man. He's already a free man." Bors eyes glittered and his body shook with rage as he swung his glance towards the Romans.

"We all are!" Bors threw the scrolls at the Bishops feet in disgust and walked off. If it weren't for the Bishop ordering them to complete this last mission, Dagonet would not be struggling to hold on to life.

Gawain stepped forward and picked the scrolls up from the ground as Lancelot and Galahad lifted Dagonet from his horse and carried him to the master healer. Evony followed close behind.

"You have done well, girl," Valentius, the master healer at the wall, said as he inspected Dagonet's wound. "But he has succumbed to fever. When the bolt came out, it was whole, yes?"

Evony nodded, "Yes, there were no chips in the head or the staff."

"Mmmm," Valentius nodded as he studied Dagonet's complexion and the sutures.

"Will he be alright?" asked Bors, standing next to Dagonet's bedside, worry painted on his face.

"If his fever breaks, he will live," Valentius nodded, "I will tend to him now. Leave us in peace."

Valentius waved Lancelot, Galahad and Evony out of the surgery room of the healing house. He tried to persuade Bors to go, but the man would not budge until he knew his friend would be well.

"Come," Lancelot told Evony, "I will show you where you can stay."

Evony followed the knight from the healing houses, studying everything around her the fort had to offer. It's walls were stone and at least 20 feet high. It was the largest Roman fort she had ever been in. Healing houses were across the way from the Commanding officer's quarters. There was a space inside the wall for civilian quarters that housed attendants for the officers and militia. The workshops, granary, stables and a tavern were all lined in a row, and a large garrison was stationed in the far left corner of the complex. All the buildings were situated in a horseshoe shape to surround a large courtyard in the entryway of the main gate.

Lancelot led Evony to the civilian quarters where Bors' woman, Vanora, had made a room ready for Evony. Lancelot smiled as the pretty red head woman stood outside of the room, her latest bastard in her arms.

"Vanora! Thank you for doing this," Lancelot said as he gave the woman an affectionate hug.

"Not a problem, deary. Bors wouldn't have it any other way. Gili! Quit picking on your sister!" The woman yelled at the eldest of her children as she greeted the knight and lady.

Flustered, Vanora turned to Evony, "It's not much, but it's a roof over your head and a warm bed to sleep in. The fire is stoked and if you get hungry come find me at the tavern. I'll have Eoghann fix you a plate. Four! Stop that!" The woman's fourth child was pulling his sisters hair like a pony. "Sorry, love, I've got to tend to the tavern. There are hungry knights to feed!" She smiled and walked off, five of her eleven children trailing behind her.

Lancelot opened the door to Evony's quarters. It was as Vanora said. There wasn't much, but it was warm and dry. A bed sat in the center of the room with a small table to one side. A small fireplace took up the back wall and a stool sat to one side. A basin of water sat on a trunk across from the bed and a meager thread of carpet attempted to make the room homey.

"If you are in need of anything, my lady, please don't hesitate to ask. Arthur has made it known, you are welcome to stay here however long you like," Lancelot ushered Evony into the room.

"Thank you, Sir Lancelot," Evony said as she inspected the space and set her father's sword on her bed.

Before Lancelot could excuse himself the two heard a commotion in the courtyard.

"They are here! The Saxons are here!" one civilian shouted. Others began to echo his dismay.

Lancelot and Evony quickly ran to the courtyard to see what was happening. The peasants from the settlement outside the wall were pouring into the fort. The fear on their faces was real and true. Lancelot and Evony climbed the stairs of the battlement and peered over the wall. The sun had just set and smoke from hundreds of fires could be seen in the distance.

"Damn it all!" Lancelot swore and pounded the stone wall with his fist. His jaw clenched.

Tristan, Gawain, Galahad and Bors soon joined them on the battlement. Their faces fell as they stared upon the Sea of Saxons before them. Evony watched the Roman soldiers on guard stare blankly at the scene in front of them and the peasants below seeking shelter within the great stone walls.

"Call Arthur," Lancelot ordered one of the guards. The guard did not immediately move, provoking the first knight to raise his voice, "Call Arthur! Now! Go!"

The guard stepped to attention.

Moments later, Arthur climbed the steps of the battlement, closely followed by Guinevere. The glow of the Saxon fires lit the night as if it were day. Arthur surveyed his knights and read the worry on their faces. Would Rome ask them for yet another task before granting their freedom? Would Arthur? If they stayed, would they live to see another day and truly know what it was to be free? Would they ever see home again? None of the men would say as much, but even Evony could see the worry in their eyes.

Arthur walked to the edge of the battlement and stared down into the streets of the fort. He stared at the faces of the peasants he had saved and of the citizens of the fort. All looked to him wondering who was in charge. Wondering who would save them now. Arthur's green eyes lingered on Guinevere before straying off to look inward.

"Knights," Arthur said with lingering finality, "My journey with you must end here. May God go with you."

Evony watched as Arthur boldly chose to protect the wall himself. He had finally found what he belonged to. It wasn't the dream of Rome that fueled him. It wasn't the thought of glory in battle. It was the need of a people to survive, to claim their God given right to freedom. It was the need of a land to be free of war. It was the need of a woman who demanded him to be a leader for all those things. His dream of a magnificent and fair Rome may not exist, but he could make it exist for these people. He could give them a protector, someone to believe in, and work to build them the fair and free society they so deserved. But what he could not do was ask his knights to stand by him and risk their lives, further extending their own captivity.

The knights bowed their heads, their inner struggle for survival and duty to friendship weighing heavy on their hearts. Lancelot shifted and glared angrily at Guinevere. He believed if it weren't for her, Arthur would be going home to Rome where he belonged. Where he would survive.

As Arthur marched down the battlement stairs to prepare for evacuation and defense, Lancelot followed at his heels in protest.

"Arthur, this is not Rome's fight. This is not your fight!" he tried to reason with his best friend.

"All these long years we've been together, the trials we've faced, the blood we've shed, what was it all for if not for the reward of freedom?" Lancelot argued, "And now when we are so close, when it is finally within our grasp….Look at me!" Lancelot finally yelled in frustration. "Does it all count for nothing?!"

Arthur spun on his heel, "You ask me that? You who know me best of all?"

Lancelot swallowed hard. He knew that for Arthur it was never about his own freedom. It was about the freedom of his men and the people he served.

"Then do not do this," Lancelot begged, "Only certain death awaits you here. Arthur, I beg you, for our friendship's sake, I beg you!"

"You be my friend now and do not dissuade me. Seize the freedom you have earned and live it for the both of us. I cannot follow you, Lancelot." Arthur's determination rang true, "I now know that all the blood I have shed, all the lives I have taken, have led me to this moment."

Lancelot sighed, biting back his tears of frustration as Arthur stomped away. He could not bear to think of losing a brother and best friend. They had endured much as brothers in arms, but loss was never an easy thing. Lancelot knew that he could not hold Arthur back from his destiny, but it was a hard truth to swallow.

Lancelot turned to see Guinevere staring in their wake. She had followed them and overheard their conversation. She too was worried for Arthur's safety, but she was equally as worried for the state of her country if the Saxons were to cross the wall. The devastation the Saxons had wreaked was already proof they did not want to live peacefully. They would not respect this land or it's people. As Lancelot scowled at her, she drifted away to follow Arthur, hoping to give him comfort before an inevitable battle.

Evony had climbed down the steps of the wall and weaved her way among the growing number of people, hoping to find Lancelot and learn what was to happen. She had witnessed the end of his words with Arthur and had watched as Guinevere followed after him. She knew that whatever the pict girl had said to Arthur in their private conversations had finally won him over, for country and for love. But for Lancelot, his hurt ran deep. She met his gaze after Guinevere had fled, her heart melting at the sadness that he could not hide, before he departed for his quarters.

Taking a deep breath, Evony found her way to Vanora's tavern. She took a seat on an empty stool and smiled as a barmaid behind the counter set a plate of roasted meat, bread, and cheese in front of her, followed by a cup of steaming mead.

"Vanora," Bors barked as he leaned heavily on the bar next to Evony, "A round for the boys."

Evony turned to the knight and hesitated before asking, "What will he do?"

Bors sighed deeply before answering, "Arthur will do what he must. Rome has decided to leave this country in force. They want no part of a land they cannot control and do not wish to waste their time on Saxons any further. The Honorius family will leave tomorrow with the Bishop Germanus and the entire Roman guard. Arthur will evacuate the people and try to hold the Saxon's at bay."

"And you? What will the Sarmatian Knights do?" Evony asked.

"We will snatch our freedom and be on our way!" Galahad interrupted, leaning on Bors with a half full mug of ale in his hand.

"You would leave these people to die? You would leave Arthur to die?" Evony asked with an eyebrow raised. She could feel a flame of anger burning inside.

"My Lady, we have waited fifteen years for our freedom. Fifteen years we have shed blood for Rome. We care not for Rome or this battle. This is not our land. This is not our home! I will gladly ride out if it means I live to see my home again. You would do well to do the same!" Galahad said, the ale slurring off his lips.

"I think the ale has loosed your tongue, brother," Gawain patted Galahad on the back as he approached.

Evony felt the well of anger build till she could no longer hold her tongue at the drunken knight, "You who speak of imprisonment should be ashamed of yourself. Our ancestors made a terrible pact, but your service is no worse than that of these people. I have been in this land long enough to know that the Romans have made slaves of them as well. Look around, good sir, their captivity lasts well past your fifteen-year service. Their lives hang in the balance just as yours. But they have nowhere else to run. They will die without just cause if the Romans leave. And Arthur along with them! Tell me, oh brave and honorable knights, you would leave your commander, your Brother, to die?"

Evony's last words hit home and none of the knights could look her in the eye. They were torn between survival and honor.

"Arthur is a free man, same as us. It is his choice to stay and fight. We have bled more than enough already," Bors words sounded more like an attempt to convince himself of his decision than to convince Evony, "I want to go home and I will take Vanora and our bastards with me. I will make sure my children will live."

"And then watch your sons be taken as you were by the Romans for their militia. You would condemn your sons for the sake of your own freedom," Evony said angrily before turning to the bar and asking for another cup of hot mead. Picking up her plate and balancing the two cups on the wide rim, she glared at the knights before she took her leave, "Think carefully, oh honorable knights. I may not have a home, but I know the difference between freedom and captivity. Sarmatia may be your home, but it is also your prison. If you truly want to be free men, then act like free men."

Tristan, who had been lounging on a low bench peeling an apple watched as Evony stormed away with her meal.

"If all Sarmatian women are like her, then we are in for a treat," Tristan broke the silence with a wry joke. His brothers stared at him annoyed. "What? She has spirit! I like that in a woman!"

Lancelot sat at the small table in front of his fireplace, head bowed, trying to reconcile his thoughts about tonight's events. Anger and frustration still ran through his blood. How could Arthur sacrifice his life for a people he had said he didn't belong to? How could he not take the chance to go back to Rome while he still lived? Lancelot refused to admit to the answers he already knew. Arthur did belong to this land, more so than to Rome. He had grown up here. His father and mother had died protecting this land and it's people. Now that the pict girl had entered his life, Arthur had found an anchor to stay and fight. His dream of Rome may have been crushed, but his realization that the people of Briton needed his protection and wanted a fair and just society without Rome held him here.

Lancelot jumped as a small knock sounded on his door.

"Enter," he said raising his head and looking to the door. He was surprised to see Evony enter with a plate of food and mead.

"I thought you could use some nourishment," she said as she entered and shut the door behind her.

Lancelot stood and motioned for her to sit across from him at the table. His quarters were bigger than Evony's. He had room enough for a bed, table and chairs, and a large chest and cabinet to hold his belongings and armor.

Evony carefully set the plate and cups of mead down on the table and took a seat. Lancelot sat himself down and picked at a piece of bread. Evony studied the dark knight carefully. In the few days that she had known Lancelot, she had learned that though he was the strongest of the knights, he was also the most compassionate. The tales of his honor did not do him justice. He was a man who felt deeply and who was just as lost as she. He was handsome with his dark curls framing his dark, expressive eyes. However now his mouth did not turn up in a grin. Instead it sat as a thin line on his fine face, wrought with worry.

"Thank you, for the food, lady," Lancelot tried not to forget his manners.

"Will you be leaving tomorrow as well?" Evony asked quietly. The anger she had felt earlier had subsided.

Lancelot nodded his head, still refusing to look at her. Evony's heart sank.

"He will die," Lancelot finally said as he angrily chewed a piece of bread.

"Perhaps," Evony answered, "Or he will lead the people to freedom."

"You sound like Guinevere," Lancelot said dryly.

Evony smirked, "The pict princess may be love-struck by man and country, but she has a point. There is a leader in Arthur yet. Did you not see how the people looked to him as he stood on the wall? They are scared. They know they are being deserted by the Romans, who have for so long held their captive peace. They look to Arthur for safety because his presence gives them hope. He gives them inspiration to live free or die trying."

Lancelot raised his eyes to Evony, his anger being overridden by his helplessness.

"Will you be traveling back to Sarmatia with us? I know you said you have no home, lady, but if you are willing you could return to my home. My village is not much, but you would be welcome there." Evony could not mistake the hope in Lancelot's voice. It was odd, how close they had become in the last few days. Lancelot had promised her that she would never endure another moment of pain and he had kept his promise. He had insisted she ride with him the rest of the way to the Wall. He had kept watch over her while she slept and kept her warm when it was cold. All the while, he never asked anything more of her than a friendly smile. Evony swallowed hard, hating to break him any further.

"No, my lord, I have chosen to stay and fight," she said carefully and watched as a new sadness entered his beautiful eyes.

Lancelot's heart stopped at Evony's answer. It was bad enough that he would lose Arthur, but to lose Evony as well was unbearable. He had never known a soul as hers. She burned like fire and was made of stone, but equally as gentle as the first fallen snow. He could not bear to think of her life being extinguished by the Saxon hoard.

"I will leave in the morning and escort the people from the wall. After that we will make way to Sarmatia. I will not be able to protect you," Lancelot told her desperately, hoping she would reconsider.

"I know, my lord. You have already done so much for me," Evony placed her hand delicately on his, "You have saved my life. The least I can do is try to save yours. If we do not stand, the Saxons will surely follow you."

Lancelot grabbed her hand and held it tight. His jaw clenched as he bit back the tears welling in his heart. Why was it so hard for him to let go? He felt as if the world was caving in on him and he had no way to dig through the muck and grime.

"You owe me nothing, my lady, but to live," Lancelot held her eyes.

Evony saw the loss in his eyes and her own heart wrenched at the thought of hurting him. But she could not stand by and let innocent people die. Not if they had a chance to live. She knew that even if she left, the Saxons would follow. They were as bad, if not worse than the Romans. Once they caught a scent, they were like hounds on the hunt.

"I will do my best to honor that debt, sir, but I must stay. I am an able body, and I cannot stand by and watch innocents die for nothing," Evony said.

Lancelot hung his head and stared at the flames of the fire. For a long moment they sat in silence.

"I see I have upset you. I will go," Evony stood, "Safe travels to you my lord. May the gods be with you and help you to find your home."

"My Lady," Lancelot stood and called after her, "Evony." She turned at the sound of her name. She looked beautiful as the firelight played shadows on her face, and he could feel his heart beat faster. He bit back the urge to give in to his desires and carefully spoke his next words, "I know this may be indecent of me, but please don't go. Stay with me tonight."

Evony's eyes widened and her heart raced.

"I promise I will be a man of honor. I would just greatly appreciate your company," Lancelot held out his hand, his pleading eyes making it impossible for Evony to deny him. Here was a man not seeking ill intent of her, just her presence before a long journey to find home.

"Alright, Lancelot," Evony mimicked his casual use of first names and reached for his hand, "I will stay."

Lancelot led her to stand in front of him and pulled Evony into a tight hug, holding onto her as if she would disappear at any moment. Releasing her only when he felt suddenly awkward and foolish.