Part VII. Meant to Live

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves?

Somewhere we live inside

We want more than this world's got to offer

We want more than the wars of our fathers

And everything inside screams for second life
-Switchfoot

"So what is this my friends?" Lancelot sat down at their table in the tavern. The bar here was much bigger than the one at the fortress, but was filled with just as many soldiers who were stationed here along with women who were waitresses or with whores that were willing to sell their carnal services for coin.

"Sevan here," Levon slapped a large hand on his cousin's back, causing drops of ale to spill from his mug, "is to accompany me back to the fort and stay with me for a time." A big smile was on his face. He and his cousin had known one another since birth, and even when Levon had decided to stay in Britain, it had been a difficult decision to make – not being able to return to Sarmatia with his blood kin.

Sevan rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't last a minute without me," he quipped.

The men laughed.

"What say you, though, Lance?" Akbar inquired.

"It is not my decision to make," he replied. "But it is their choice, and I wish them only the best." He raised his mug in salute, and his comrades followed in suit. And he was sincere to the deepest recesses of his heart.

"I realized that my cousin had a point," Sevan said, slightly sobered in his countenance. "Our family is most likely dead and long gone, and what would we do? Marry and have sons only to see them taken away when they are of age?"

To this, the men quieted, probably the only group of people at a table that weren't shouting and laughing uproariously. Not a one of them, including Akbar, had a wench on their laps as they fondled their women's plump rumps.

"At least here," Sevan continued, "our children might have a chance of escaping a life of fealty."

They all, save Ahriman, hid their thoughtful eyes in their cups.

"More over here!" Behram shouted, breaking the quietude of his brothers.

"When do you depart?" Lancelot asked.

"The day after you all," Levon replied.

"We should inform Ardeth. I hope he is not offended by our sudden change in plan," Sevan said.

"Tomorrow morning would be best," Lancelot told them, and they capitulated. The mentioning of Ardeth made him think of Aisha, and how she had stalked off earlier, angry with him and his reticence. His groin still throbbed with wanting, and despite the ale he could still taste her on his lips.

The men drank to their hearts' content, and after a few hours each went off to their quarters at the inn, either alone or with a woman on their arms.

Lancelot walked through the large town, wondering if he should encounter Aisha. Her room was not near his, but he desperately wanted to see her and apologize. The ale gave him fortitude and he knew he could not let the night pass without explaining for his stupidity. He marched right in the building and to her quarters. He passed Ardeth's and Inara's room, dimly hearing them make passionate love.

He knocked on her door.

After a moment she answered, clad in her shift and bed robe. She stood there silently, but was instantly captured in Lancelot's strong arms, his leg stretched out behind him to close the door. He kept her locked in a fiery kiss, hoping to convey all he had not said and everything he was feeling in the depths of his soul in one gesture of love.

Their mouths parted, swollen with kisses. Aisha struggled to catch her breath.

"I am sorry, my sweet," he said, his hands cupping her face, his forehead against hers. "I was a fool."

"You were," she said through broken inhalations.

"I have," he confessed, looking deeply into her eyes, "never felt this way about any woman in my life. You beguile me. Yet, I only hold back because our futures are undecided and go in different directions. Me in Sarmatia and you in Egypt."

Aisha bit her bottom lip and separated herself from him. She knew, too, that a future together was dim at best. She would never ask him to choose between she and his homeland. Never.

"Then our time together, here and now, is what we have," she said quietly.

And how he wanted to make love to her. But he had bedded too many anonymous women in inns or barracks, and he wanted not to take her in such an impersonal setting. So, instead, they sat together for hours into the night, either in feverous kisses, quiet or conversation, telling one another about their childhoods' and lives up until this point.

----

The next day, he spent as much time as he could preparing for his departure and spending time with his comrades, two of whom he would most likely never see again in his lifetime. The day and night waned, Ardeth was informed and he was only glad and filled with good tidings for the two Sarmatians who would make a future for themselves on this island. The next morning was a bit foggy, but Ahriman said that the day would clear.

All men stood on the dock, ready to go on to the next journey.

They were serious, yet high-hearted.

"I suppose this is goodbye," Levon said, looking at each of his kin who had become brothers over the long, arduous years.

"Indeed, my friend," said Lancelot.

Fierce hugs were exchanged, and these brave and strong knights had a film of unshed tears in their eyes, all save Ahriman. Gul, ever the spirit-lifter tried his best to make the most of this final goodbye.

"By all the gods, who would have thought..." Sevan's cracked voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. "The hell with you, get on the blasted ship!" He waved them and took a step back.

With their luggage already stowed below deck, the men ascended the ramp where all the Egyptians were already on board. After a quarter of an hour, the ramp was lifted and they could hear the cranking of oars that would row them home.

The Sarmatians stood on the deck as the ship sailed away. The forms of Sevan and Levon became smaller and less clear on the dock of the harbor. Another ship was gaining closer to them. It was slightly smaller but held more supplies that the ship they were on did not carry.

"What will become of them?" Vreg asked.

"What will become of us?" Melek tacked on.

The men did not answer, and soon they could no longer make out a piece of their two friends on land.

They were now surrounded by nothing but the sky and leagues and leagues of water. Even with the best of weather it would take them no less than four weeks to dock at the harbor on the coast of Sarmatia. For now all they could do was bide their time and hope for the best.

"Well, what do you know?" Gul said. "We are no longer on the island of Britain."

TBC...