A/N: So I'm planning on alternating storylines this time around, I promise! I just wanted to post this as chapter 6 because it immediately followed the events of chapter 5. The next chapter will move to Gawain and co, and they should alternate pretty well after that. Also, the knights heading north aren't a third storyline, I just needed to thin out my cast for Cymbeline and Arthur's plotline xD However, I'm also considering making their adventure(s) a spinoff-let me know what you think about that!
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1, please!
The next morning, the knights assembled in the round table room. They took their seats at the table, but before they met with the Romans, Arthur wanted to hear a report from Pellinore, who had spent the day before listening to reports and complaints from various supplicants all seeking Arthur's aid or judgement on a variety of matters, while Arthur and Guinevere had been busy dealing with the Romans.
"There has been a marked increase in rogue Woad activity in the North," Pellinore said. "Morgana may have laid off on her attacks of us these past few months, but she seems to have redirected her attentions north to Caledonia instead. Jorah even sent a messenger south to ask for our aid in dealing with her attacks. Leodegrance has also been having issues with her followers."
"They're our two closest allies to the north; of course she's going after them," Cymbeline said. "She's probably trying to draw us out."
"We're sure these are Morgana's followers?" Grav asked.
"Who else would it be?" asked Bors.
"I just want to make sure we don't have a new enemy rising against us," Grav said. "We've been spending most of our time and energy fighting Morgana for the past two years; if anyone else realized that, they could have taken the opportunity to band against Arthur. Or if the Lacs still have any hard feelings against us for Nimue's death, they could be taking it out on Jorah and Leodegrance in an attempt to draw us out for revenge."
"As far as we know, the Lacs are still allied with Morgana anyways," Cymbeline said. "If it is them making these attacks, it could be for both reasons."
"None of the messengers I spoke with yesterday said anything about anyone wearing the mark of the Lacs, or otherwise bearing the symbol of the white hand," Pellinore said.
"That doesn't mean it isn't them," Arthur mused. "Who are our allies in Caledonia?"
"Jorah, Leodegrance, Cador, Madoc, Pelles, and Ector," Cymbeline replied. "Bernard and Brutus have shown no ill will towards, us, but have also not allied themselves with us. Caradoc has opposed us since Guinevere supported Jorah's claim to the seat of Clan Cunobelin. Huail opposes us openly, as do Kings Lac and Vortigern."
Arthur nodded slowly. "We well send three of you to Jorah and Leodegrance each. Culhwch, Aglovale, and Gorlois will go to Jorah in Orkney—take Lucan with you. Branwyr, Elyan, Lamorak, and Sebille will go to Leodegrance in Camellaird. I want reports before you take action, understood?"
Around the table, heads nodded.
"You'll all leave tomorrow morning," Arthur continued. "Travel together as far as Camellaird. Make your preparations today; go now. I don't want the Romans to see how many of us there are now."
Without another word, the knights he had named stood, each of them bowing or nodding to the king before heading out of the chamber. The rest of the knights remained seated at the table, the remaining six trainees lined up against the wall across from Arthur.
"Is there any other business we must see to?" Arthur asked, glancing around the table. When there was no response, he nodded. "Gilly, the Romans should be in the courtyard. Bring them here."
The dark-haired boy scurried out of the room, leaving the knights to wait in silence—although that didn't last long; the soft sound of whispers soon filled the chamber as several of the knights struck up conversations.
"What do you think the Romans want?" Grav asked, leaning over Gawain's empty seat to talk to Cymbeline.
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Tribute from Arthur? The southern half of Britain, including Albion, used to be Roman territory. They might want him to pay for our freedom, even though they gave up the territory."
Grav nodded as the doors opened again and Gilly marched through. He bowed deeply, his dark hair flopping forward, and presented the Roman ambassadors. A few of the knights hid smiles; the Romans may have thought that Gilly was honoring them with his bow, but the knights knew he was mocking them.
"Bishop Germanius," Arthur rose to greet them. "Caelus Constans. We welcome you to our council." He gestured towards a cluster of seats where some of the absent knights normally sat. "You may sit there."
Germanius frowned, likely at being told to sit anywhere but at Arthur's side, but took a seat, Caelus to one side of him, Alecto to the other. Horton lingered behind Germanius's seat, while Justinius sat beside Caelus, the woman from the day before standing behind him. Cymbeline felt herself shrink back into her seat, and wished she had sat next to Aggravaine instead of between Gawain and Galahad's empty chairs.
"Good morning," Arthur sat once the Romans were settled. At his side, Guinevere sat tall and proud; on the other, Ganis stared Germanius down, full of confidence. Germanius showed no sign of recognizing either of them as he glanced around the table.
"There are more of you than I expected," Germanius nodded. "That is good. I see that some of your other knights remained as well." He glanced at Bors, then at Aggravaine, who arched an eyebrow but didn't correct the mistake.
"Yes," Arthur nodded. "It was a difficult decision for all of them, but in the end, those who survived the battle with the Saxons made the choice to remain here."
"I see," Germanius nodded. "And the others?"
"All of them have chosen to sit at this table," Arthur replied. "Several of them are Bors's children, but they all just want to fight for their home."
"So they are natives?" Germanius asked, looking at Gaheris and Gareth in particular; with how similar they looked to Aggravaine, it wasn't hard to guess that the three were related.
"It doesn't matter where they came from, only that they are here now," Arthur replied. "Yes, some of them are Woads, if that's what you mean, but that isn't important. We all fight together now, because this is our home."
"I see," Germanius nodded.
"You spent your whole life fighting the Woads, and now you just… let them sit at your table? Share your bread, and your home?" Justinius scoffed.
"We have the same goal: to defend our home," Arthur replied.
"If you and the Woads are allies now, what is there to defend it from?" Justinius leaned back lazily in his chair.
"Some of the Woads still don't like the fact that we are here," Arthur replied. "That there are Romans still on the island at all. But most of our trouble comes from Roman criminals and deserters still living in the area. They raid farms and small villages, and have been so long in the forest that they are nearly as good at hiding in it as the Woads, making it very difficult to weed them out for good."
"I see," Germanius nodded. "But it appears that you have no shortage of warriors here."
"At the moment," Arthur said cautiously. "There are many knights, yes, and several more being trained, but the guard of Camelot," he gestured towards Ganis, "is always shorthanded. It has been since the Roman legion withdrew from Camelot many years ago."
"I see," Germanius nodded again.
"But that is not important," Arthur said. "What we need to discuss is what has brought you to Britain."
"Yes, yes," Germanius nodded. "But the numbers of your warriors is what has brought us here."
"I'm afraid I do not understand," Arthur said.
"Recently, the sources of our conscripts have grown… dry," Germanius explained. "What were once cities are little more than villages now, and some have disappeared altogether. Many of the villages on one of our routes through Sarmatia have vanished; some were burned and sacked by Scythian raiders, others have merely been abandoned. Some don't even have any boys for us to take any longer. Therefore, we are looking for other sources of warriors, and the Woads of Britain have always been fierce and skilled fighters, if not so much as the Sarmatians."
The table was silent for long moments.
"What?" Bors growled, rising from his chair and glaring darkly at the bishop. "You want our children?"
"They don't have to be your children," Germanius shrugged. "Take Woads from the North, for all we care."
"You stole us from our homes to fight for you in this godforsaken land," Bors growled, his face growing redder. "When you finally free us, we choose to stay here to get away from you, and you still come for our sons?" By the end, the big man was roaring, spittle flying and nostrils flaring.
"They don't have to be your sons," Germanius shrugged again.
"You have no right to anyone's sons," Cymbeline was on her feet now, stubborn and angry. "You have no right to anyone at all!"
"You will not be taking any tribute from Britain," Arthur rose to stand as well, many of the other knights around the table following his example. "Not with our help—and not without it. We will defend this island and the people on it for as long as we can hold our swords."
"You saw us against the Saxons," Guinevere spoke up, her chin jutting forward. "Do you really want to risk what is left of your armies in a fight against us and our peoples? The Woads won't just let you take their children, even if you do get past us here, south of the wall. By the end of that fight, you'd have no armies left at all."
"Is that a threat?" Germanius snapped, leaping to his own feet.
"It is a promise," Guinevere snapped.
"You should leave, bishop," Arthur said. "You are no longer welcome here."
"We will not leave," Germanius glared at the king. "Not until this discussion has been resolved."
"It has been," said Arthur. "You will receive no tribute from Britain, nor will you take its peoples as slaves for your armies. There is no more to discuss."
"Rome will get what it wants," Germanius sniffed.
"No, it won't," Cymbeline growled. Her hand went to her knife handle, and she began to pull the weapon from its sheath.
Justinius began to laugh, slow and soft at first, but rapidly growing louder and more unhinged. Silence fell, and all eyes turned to him. He wiped tears from his eyes as his laughter died down; beside him, Caelus, lowered his head into his hand, clearly embarrassed. "You couldn't have chosen a better time for an outburst?" he murmured.
"Don't you recognize her, father?" Justinius's tone was mocking. He stood, shoving his chair back so that it nearly hit the woman standing there, and began making his way slowly around the table. "It's ironic, really; a slave advocating freedom, especially for the people who abandoned her with the Romans she apparently hates so much." He came to a stop behind Cymbeline, who clutched her dagger so hard that her knuckles turned white.
"It's not Romans that I hate," she said, her voice soft but full of venom, "only you." In a flash, her dagger was in her hand, it's blade glinting in the torchlight where she held it against Justinius's throat.
"That is enough!" Arthur shouted.
Reluctantly, Cymbeline lowered her dagger.
"We will break for the day," Arthur said. "If war can be avoided, it must be; we will reconvene tomorrow morning to discuss this again."
"Discuss what?" Bors spat. "They want us to join them in practicing slavery. The Arthur I know would never agree to that."
"Watch your words," Arthur glared at his old friend. "Do not think to speak for me. We will reconvene in the morning."
With a huff, Bors stormed out of the chamber, many of the other knights hurrying after him. Aggravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth stayed behind with Cymbeline, who still glared at Justinius.
"Didn't you used to be mute?" Justinius asked, smirking again.
"I learned to be silent," Cymbeline thrust her chin forward. "A pity you never learned to be kind."
Justinius's smirk vanished and he glared down at the girl. "You'd best watch yourself, slave."
In an instant, Cymbeline's bone-handled knife was at his throat. "You're the one who would do to watch himself. I am no slave."
"Cymbeline!" Arthur called, his voice weary. "Don't threaten our guests. Please."
Several heartbeats passed before Cymbeline lowered her blade and slipped it smoothly back into its sheath. She stared defiantly at Justinius until he took a step back, then shoved her way past him and made for the door, Aggravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth trailing along behind her. Dagonet, who had waited by the door, followed as well.
"Cym?" Grav asked softly, hurrying to keep pace with the smaller woman, who was practically running.
"If he threatens me, I'll kill him," Cymbeline said. Her face was drawn, her eyes dark, and her voice was thick, as though she were holding back tears.
"They'd kill you in return," Grav said.
"It would be worth it to rid the world of a creature like Justinius Constans."