Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.
Alice followed the big commander with a calmness that belied the churning panic that tightened her stomach. Pack it in, she told her heart which was hammering so hard that she thought it might break free of her rib cage. You might have a chance here, don't mess it up. She knew of Commander Castus - there were few at "The Wall" who didn't, and his reputation painted him as a fair man who was loyal to his troops and did not take advantage of his position. Certainly she'd never heard tell of him ordering any of her fellow serving girls to his bed the way some of his fellow officers had. But the men he commanded…. They were a different prospect entirely.
"Gentlemen." Arthur did not bother to raise his voice when he addressed his men; they all shut up as soon as he approached. "This is Alice Tremain. She will be in charge of sorting out your accommodation and uniforms. You will go to her for help regarding those concerns and those concerns only. You will treat her with respect, and if I hear evidence to the contrary those responsible can go back to the Saxons for there will be no place for them here." Gesturing towards the dark haired girl, he motioned for her to sit down. "Now, since the barracks have had the shit bombed out of them and I don't imagine you lot'd like to spend the night camping out, I've got work to do. Stay here and keep out of trouble." Nodding to Dagonet, Arthur stifled a smile as the older man barely dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Dagonet is in charge, any trouble then I'll be in building two." With that he left, marching across the mess room with unconscious military precision before bounding up the stairs and out of sight.
"It's alright love." The voice was gruff but kind, and Alice pulled her attention away from the retreating form of Commander Castus and looked at the man sat across the table from her. The man looked to be in his mid forties with a stocky build and little brown eyes that crinkled kindly when he smiled at her. With a sudden unexpected sharp pain, Alice was reminded of her father. "You'll be safe with us." Reaching over, he took her hand, his large fingers rough and strangely reassuring.
Resisting the sudden urge to cry - how long had it been since someone had touched her with kindness? Alice quickly squeezed the man's hand before withdrawing it. Mentally shoving her emotions into some semblance of order, she gave a decent approximation of a smile.
"Since you all know my name, could I trouble you gentlemen for yours?"
The stocky man gave a chuckle, and Alice found herself smiling at such genuine good humour.
"Right love, let's see. I'm Bors, this big lug is Dagonet," he nudged the tall, solemn man next to him with his shoulder. "Pretty boy there is Lancelot, and the two next to him are Galahad and Gawain. The scary bastard on the end is Tristan." Alice watched where Bors's stubby finger pointed, mentally acknowledging that yes, Lancelot was a "pretty boy" if not the happiest looking one. Galahad looked not much older than her, the prison tattoo on the back of his neck a strange contrast to his boyish features. Gawain smiled at her and she could not help smiling back. She knew better than to judge by appearances, but there was a kindness in the blond man's blue eyes that she could not help warming to. Tristan on the other hand… He didn't do or say anything, but the quiet intensity of the man made her repress a shudder. That one would bear watching.
"So what's your story Alice?" Galahad asked, leaning forward in interest. "You know where we came from," he prodded the tattoo on Gawain's neck and didn't flinch when the older man batted his hand away. "How did you end up in this garden of heathen?"
"Eden," Gawain corrected. "Although as Freudian slips go that's pretty accurate."
Galahad ignored the interruption. "You from around here originally?"
A little overwhelmed, Alice paused before replying. The men in front of her were not at all what she had expected. Samartians were synonymous with Saxons, and Saxons were synonymous with murder, rape and destruction. The six men sat around the table, while not cute and cuddly by any means were at least recognisably human, and almost likable at that. Noting that the pitchers in the centre of the table were empty, Alice took the opportunity for a couple of minute's breathing space.
"I'll just go and get us some re-fills shall I?" she said, gathering the empty jugs with practiced ease. "Talking's thirsty work isn't it?" Before anyone had a chance to reply to her, admittedly rhetorical, question, she'd slid off the bench and was halfway to the kitchen, the pitchers clinking gently as she walked away.
Kate grabbed her almost as soon as she had shouldered her way through the door.
"Alice? Are you alright?" Her blue eyes were wide, making her look even younger than her twenty two years. "Did they hurt you? Because if they did…"
"You'd stab them with a kitchen knife?" Alice asked ruefully. "I don't remember that going down too well the last time you tried it."
"Yes, well…" Kate took two of the empty jugs from her friend and put them in the sink. "I got my point across anyway."
"Point?" Alice gave her friend a sideways glance. "Did you just make a joke miss mess-with-me-and-regret-it-forever?"
The older girl wrinkled her nose and grabbed a sponge, scrubbing the sides of the pitcher as though the fate of the world depended on it. "Shut up Alice," she said without amusement. "I saw what happened, and yeah, Castus is an alright bloke by all accounts, but that doesn't mean it's safe to go hobnobbing around with Samartians. You've got to be more careful, girl."
"It wasn't Samartians holding me down and trying to get my bra off," Alice pointed out. The simmering anger at being manhandled by the soldiers was starting to surface, and she did her best to squash it down. It wasn't the first time it had happened and it probably wouldn't be the last. At least she had it better than the poor cows who were encouraged by some of the senior officers to provide "special favours" or God forbid the few refugees who, alone and starving, were willing to spread their legs for whoever could make their lives a little more bearable. "They seemed alright, the Samartians. Not what I expected."
Kate gave a "hurrumph" of annoyance. Rubbing the back of her hand over her damp hair, she was unaware of the small pile of soap bubbles that clung to its damp blonde strands. "Well, just watch yourself, that's all I'm saying. Keep your distance."
"Can't really." Alice picked up two clean pitchers from the sideboard and deliberately turned her back on her friend. "As of now I'm their maid."
Turning the tap on the barrel, Alice watched the jug fill with lager, swapping the jugs over as soon as the first was filled. When the second was full, she rose and carefully set them on the table in the middle of the kitchen. Kate stood with her arms crossed over her breasts, her eyes narrowed.
"Look it's not like that," Alice protested at the unspoken accusation. "I'll be doing cleaning, sewing, that sort of thing. It's better than staying here and being groped by half the barracks. I told Castus that I'd give it a go."
"And what happens when he or his men decide to give you "a go"", Kate snapped. "They're bloody Samartians Alice. Do you really think Castus is going to give a toss if his men decide to have a bit of fun with you?"
"I don't know, Kate, Germanius doesn't seem to mind when he passes you off to his men. You tell me." The words were out before she could stop them, and for a moment they seemed to hang in the space between the two women, poisonous and irreversible. The blonde girl carefully wiped the jug she had been cleaning dry and put it on the shelf with studied calmness.
"Kate, look, I didn't mean…" Panic at saying out loud something that was only hinted at in the tavern, made Alice's apology clumsy. "I'm sorry…"
"It's alright." The tired resignation in Kate's eyes echoed that statement and suddenly Alice felt a thousand times worse. "Might as well get it out in the open, I'm a bit tired of all the rumours to be honest. Yeah, I'm Germanius's whore. Not something that I'm proud of, and it's not something that I'd recommend, Alice. So be careful who you trust alright and don't let yourself end up as some weird perk of the job for a bunch of soldiers who don't have anything else to let their frustrations out on." Walking over to the younger girl, Kate dropped a kiss on her forehead before ascending the stairs to the meeting rooms. Alice listened as her footsteps receded, the memory of the kiss burning like a brand on her skin. I won't let that happen to me, and I'll help you Kate, Alice vowed, gathering up the pitchers of lager and putting them on a tray along with a loaf of bread and a pat of butter. She picked up a bread knife, ran a thumb over its serrated edge and tried not to cry as she carved the loaf into manageable pieces.
"I should congratulate you Arthur." General Germanius leant back in his chair and regarded his Commander with amusement. "It's been what," he made a show of looking at his watch. "Four hours and your boys haven't killed anyone yet." Waiting until the younger man shifted in his chair as though to protest, he cut him off before he could speak. "Oh wait, that's not entirely true is it? There are three Saxon corpses who'd say otherwise."
Corpses can't say anything because they're fucking dead, you moron, Arthur thought to himself. And why the hell did you bring the Samartians here if not to kill Saxons?
"I and my men eliminated the threat as per orders, Sir," he said quietly. "The Samartians followed orders well and without losing control, which is more than I can say for the poor bastards out there who thought that charging a tank was a good idea."
"Yes, well…" Irritation narrowed Germanius's eyes so that they looked to Arthur like nothing more than chips of flint. "Obviously that was a regrettable situation, but since Officer Barnet was inconsiderate enough to get his head blown off, giving him a posthumous bollocking seems a bit de trop, don't you think?"
Arthur curled his fingers around the underside of his chair and concentrated on staying calm.
"My men need new quarters, Sir," he said quietly. "And given their performance today they should be issued with weapons."
Germanius laughed incredulously. "You think that we should give half a dozen violent criminals guns and ammunition while they are here at camp, amongst decent people?"
"I think that my men should be armed," Arthur said. His hazel eyes darkened, his gaze was unflinching, and for the first time Germanius felt a flicker of what might have been fear. "Unlike half the pathetic excuses for soldiers here, my men didn't fall apart at the first sign of trouble. I'm merely asking you to arm the men that you recruited when they came to offer themselves of their own free will."
"Jesus, Castus, what are you trying to do? Set yourself up for the Nobel Peace Prize? Because you don't need me to tell you that the selection panel are dead, right?" The General propped his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together. "Give that sorry lot live ammunition and God knows what will happen. But.." with a sigh as though he were granting an enormous favour, he continued. "On your head be it. Tomorrow I want you to take your boys down to Dene forest. Some of the latest refugees have been telling stories about a group of men living in the woods and killing Saxons. Some ancient hippy by the name of Merlin is supposed to be leading them. Probably nothing to it, but if they do exist then I want them brought back here. Understood?"
"Perfectly." Arthur replied. As a first assignment with his men it wasn't too bad, he thought with relief. Certainly better than being shoved out into the certain combat situation he had been expecting. Most of his men might even live to see the next month. "Given that their barracks were destroyed , my men need new quarters, Sir. Where would you prefer I station them?"
The general thought for a moment. "Put them in block nine. Kubrick shipped his men off to Liverpool yesterday, the place is empty. You'll need to get a maid to sort things out first though ; they took the bedding with them."
Arthur did his best not to shift uncomfortably. "Actually I have a maid, Sir. One of the kitchen girls has agreed to take on the duty."
Germanius went very still for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "Kate?"
"No, Sir." A little nonplussed at the unfamiliar name, Arthur noted the way the General's knuckles had whitened where he clutched the table edge. "Alice Tremain."
The older man seemed to relax a little. Leaning back in his chair he gave Castus an appraising look that made Arthur's skin crawl. "Dark hair, nice tits?" His smile was almost reptilian. "Never knew you had it in you lad." Shrugging, he got to his feet. "She's yours if you want her. Tell Jols to report to the armoury - Burgess'll set your boys up with weapons, but for Christ's sake keep an eye on them. The last thing this place needs is the lunatics taking over the asylum. Now if you'll excuse me.."
Arthur took the hint. With a polite nod, he exited the General's office and headed back to his men, feeling weary and somehow tainted. The sight of the Samartians sat around the table chatting amiably lifted his spirits somewhat. There were no visible dead bodies near them and the mess hall was still in one piece which was somewhat reassuring. Apparently they were capable of behaving themselves when left unsupervised. The serving girl - Alice, he remembered got to her feet and poured a glass of lager as soon as she saw him approach, and Arthur took it feeling slightly guilty. There was an almost puppyish desire to please in her deference towards him, and he wondered just how bad things had been for her. Draining half the glass in three long swallows, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and met Lancelot's knowing dark eyes.
"Boss been giving you a hard time?" he said with pretend innocence. "Sir."
Arthur narrowed his eyes and gave his brother a look that had been shorthand for shut-up-before-I-deck-you when they were younger.
"Right then," he said regaining his customary authority. " As of now, you lot are going to be based in block nine. For those who don't know where it is, it's the building next to the old stable block. Alice," he turned his attention to the dark haired girl. "The rooms need cleaning and new bedding - can you arrange that?" She nodded and got to her feet, flashing him a smile before hurrying off. Arthur caught Gawain's expression as Alice departed and inwardly rolled his eyes. Trust him to get landed with a Samartian convict who looked more likely to write serving girls poetry than rip the heads off Saxons.
"As for the rest of you, you'll be happy to know that the General has given me permission to issue you with weapons." Putting his hand up to halt the sudden chatter, Arthur continued. "I would appreciate it if you reward my trust by behaving responsibly. That means no shooting anyone no matter what the provocation unless I order you to do so. Is that clear?"
"Crystal." Lancelot gave his brother a butter wouldn't melt look of innocence which made Arthur decidedly uneasy. One by one the rest of the men nodded their acquiescence, and the Commander felt some of the tension leave him. Finishing his drink, he debated whether to share his orders with the men, before deciding that keeping secrets was probably not the best course of action when it came to winning his troops' trust.
"Tomorrow we have our first assignment, " Arthur said quietly, slightly reassured by the fact that the Samartians immediately shut up and listened to him.
"We're to head out to Dene forest. Apparently some vigilantes have been taking down Saxons. If the whole thing doesn't turn out to be a wild goose chase then we're to bring them in. Alive," he added almost as an afterthought. Expecting a flurry of questions, Arthur was a little surprised when the men kept quiet, glancing at each other in a way that could only be described as "shifty".
Lancelot broke the silence first.
"You want us to go after Merlin." It wasn't a question, and Arthur frowned at his usually devil-may-care brother's worried tone.
"That's right. Do you know the man?"
Lancelot looked over at Galahad who suddenly seemed to be fascinated by the table top. In the end Tristan spoke up. "None of us have seen him, only what he's done. Merlin and his men took out a dozen Saxon scouts and put their heads on sticks as a warning when they got to close to his forest. He doesn't welcome visitors."
Tristan's voice was calm, but Arthur noted the warning in his eyes and stifled a sigh. So much for a nice easy first mission. Reaching over, he poured himself another glass of lager - he had the feeling he'd better make the most of the quiet before having to think about what tomorrow would bring.
A/N: Quiet chapter, but I wanted to give a bit of insight as to what things were like for the unattached women in the barracks. Sorry for the delay in updating, I've had total writers block. Cheers to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter (thanks Rachel, Mads and D'Arcy, non FFnet reviewing people - much appreciated).