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Kyrie put down the tankard she had been polishing, and smiled as Lucy entered the tavern kitchen. The blonde girl returned the smile and yawned expansively, leaning against the counter top and surveying the pile of bowls and jugs that were waiting to be cleaned. Although it looked like a lot, it was obvious that business had been slow, and Lucy gave a thoughtful huff.
"Been a quiet night?"
"Quieter than your night must have been," Kyrie said wickedly, grinning when her friend's cheeks flushed. "Arthur's got half the garrison readying for battle, and the other half are too busy talking to eat much. "
"And a good thing too," Vanora remarked as she bustled into the kitchen , flicking the cleaning cloth she was carrying onto the work top. "With both you and Llynya disappearing like that, I had to use Three and Four to serve."
"Three and Four are very…" Lucy suddenly noticed the small pile of broken crockery in the corner. "Enthusiastic," she finished lamely. "Anyway I had to speak with Tristan. We had… wedding things to talk about."
Vanora snorted. "Practicing for the wedding night more like - not that you need to." Blithely ignoring Lucy's squeak of embarrassment, she tossed her a clean rag. "Now that you are here then you might as well make yourself useful . Kyrie can wash, you can dry and I'll take care of things out there."
Catching the cloth, Lucy shook her head with a cross between admiration and exasperation and watched the red-head sashay back into the tavern. "D'you think Van can read minds?" she asked Kyrie, who was already elbow deep in soapy water. "I don't think anything gets past her."
Kyrie glanced around, taking in Lucy's dishevelled hair and dress that had at least two buttons done up wrong, and privately thought that even Caradoc, the half blind weaver would have guessed what the girl had been doing, but held her tongue. Instead, she changed the subject.
"The scouting party are due back tomorrow - do you think we've got enough meat?"
"Llynya sorted out extra yesterday," Lucy replied, wiping a tankard dry. "Dickon put it in the cellar - it's cut up ready; I think he fancies Llynya, he never cuts up the meat for me."
Kyrie raised her eyebrows. "Better not tell Gawain that; we've only got one butcher, we don't want him…butchered himself."
Lucy laughed and flicked Kyrie with her cloth. "Stick to cooking , Kyrie, you're much better at that than telling jokes."
"Unlike you," Kyrie retorted with a grin.
"True enough," her friend agreed. "The scouts were supposed to visit Shaymouth - I'm hoping for a letter from my brother. So much has happened since I last wrote to him, my next letter will be as long as Arthur's books!"
Kyrie smiled, and handed Lucy a dripping plate. She herself had never learnt to read, however Lucy had been teaching her the basics when she found the time. "You must miss him," she remarked.
"I do." Lucy carefully dried the plate and put it away. "Him and Anni. My niece will be five years old in the autumn - I wish that they'd come back to live here, but they are happy where they are, and I can't move away. Still, " she said with a sigh. "They're happy, I'm happy. A year ago it looked like we were all going to be slaughtered by Saxons, so I can't really complain."
"I suppose not." Kyrie handed her friend another plate, but her eyes were drawn to the half-empty tavern beyond the kitchen. They had assumed that the Saxons no longer posed a threat, but uneasily she wondered if that assumption had been a little premature.
Rowan tugged the borrowed dress over her head and smoothed it down as best she could. It was a little tight at the bust, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. At least the neckline wasn't particularly low, and it was nice to have something clean against her skin, even if it was a badly fitting, borrowed dress. She didn't have enough water to wash her hair, so she had plaited it so that it was kept out of the way, but the rest of her felt clean and refreshed, her cheeks pink from being scrubbed with the cold water.
Giving a deep breath that had several buttons straining alarmingly, she squared her shoulders and walked to the doorway. Meeting the king was an alarming prospect, but she had gone through worse these past couple of days. All she had to do was keep her wits and tell the truth, she told herself.
Lancelot was waiting for her outside. Leaning against the wall, obviously lost in thought, he ran a lazy eye over her when she opened the door and gave a faint smile.
"Much better," he said approvingly. "You actually look like a girl rather than something the cat, or in this case the hawk dragged in."
Rowan looked at him, a little nonplussed, unsure as to whether he was complimenting her or merely teasing. "Shall we go, sir?" she asked politely. "I do not want to keep the king waiting."
"Ah, Arthur's always waiting or worrying about something. He'd be disappointed if we were on time," Lancelot replied, pushing himself away from the wall and gently taking Rowan's arm. At her slightly worried expression, he laughed. "Don't worry, you have nothing to fear from the king. From what Galahad told me, he's already talked to Tom. He just wants to hear your account - you aren't in any trouble."
"He talked to Tom?" Rowan forgot to be nervous and looked up at the tall knight with wide eyes. "He woke up? Is he alright?"
"Well he's not well, but he's got Brennus looking after him, and he's the best healer in the country, if not the gentlest," Lancelot replied. "I'll take you to see him afterwards if you like."
"Please, I mean yes." Rowan's words tripped clumsily of her tongue, and she laughed, half in embarrassment, half in relief. "That would be very kind. Thank you."
Lancelot smiled and rapped sharply on the door to one of Arthur's meeting rooms. Funny little chit, he mused as he opened the door and ushered her inside. It would be interesting to see what she was like when she was settled and not so overwhelmed by things.
Arthur got up from the chair he had been sat in when the door opened, passing a pile of documents to Guinevere, who placed them on a table and joined her husband in greeting their visitors. Rowan blushed and fixed her gaze firmly on the ground before giving a curtsey when the handsome king greeted her. She glanced at Lancelot, obviously unsure of what she should do and he took pity on her, steering her gently towards a bench and sitting down next to her. Guinevere raised an eyebrow at him, but the knight merely shrugged and turned his attention to her husband.
"Lady, I am sorry for your loss," Arthur said gently. "You showed great courage and saved the life of one of my oldest friends, for that I am indebted to you."
Rowan looked up in surprise. The only person that she had helped was Tom, and he certainly didn't look as though he associated with royalty. "I beg your pardon sir, but are you speaking of Tom?" She asked hesitantly. At Arthur's nod, she shifted uncomfortably. "It was Sir Tristan who really saved Tom - you should save your thanks for him. If he hadn't found me then I don't know what would have happened."
"You survived a Saxon attack, you found help, " Guinevere said simply. "Tom owes his life to both of you."
Rowan gave a weak smile. She really didn't think the beautiful Woad woman would appreciate being told that her survival skills had so far consisted of having the good fortune to be weeing in the bushes when the Saxons attacked, and falling flat on her face in front of Arthur's scout. "I was merely lucky," she said eventually. "Sir Lancelot said that Tom was alright, well not alright, but better? " she asked hopefully.
Arthur smiled and leant forward, taking one of her hands in his. "Tom will be fine," he said reassuringly. "Brennus expects him to make a full recovery."
Rowan smiled shyly, settling her hand in her lap when he let go of it. "You wanted to hear about the Saxons, Sir?" Feeling oddly calm, she met Arthur's eyes and at his nod, told him what she had seen.
"You did well." Lancelot walked Rowan back to her room, adjusting his stride to her smaller steps as she negotiated the unfamiliar steps that led to the knights' quarters. "You didn't even pass out - which I for one was grateful for."
Rowan laughed, and for a moment was almost tempted to slap him playfully on the arm as though he were one of the farmhands she used to joke with back in her village. She swiftly caught herself and instinctively dropped behind him a little. Sir Lancelot was not a boy that she had grown up with, he was an experienced soldier - one of Arthur's legendary knights. She was… Well what was she? At the moment she wasn't at all sure. Nonetheless she smiled in thanks when he nudged her out of the way of two soldiers too drunk and involved in an argument to notice the two people that they almost walked into. They had visited Tom briefly, and while the old tracker was fast asleep, the lurcher curled by his side had wagged her tail in recognition and licked her hand. A comforting gesture that was both reassuring and almost bittersweet given the events that they had both been through since they had last met.
A young man was waiting for them when she and Lancelot finally turned the corner to the knights' rooms, and Rowan's stomach clenched when he gave her a nervous glance. Lancelot obviously recognised the youth however.
"Hasel, what brings you here?"
Hasel gave him an apologetic look. "It's not you that I was looking for, sir," he replied. "It's the lady. Eadgyth's men are back, they've brought the … people who were killed in the forest back. Sir Gawain said to let her know incase she wanted to say goodbye." He looked worried when Rowan's face paled. "We cleaned them up nice and all," he said hastily. "You'd never know that…"
"Enough." Lancelot said sharply. "Where is she?"
"Room next to the stables," the young man replied. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't mean to offend."
"It's alright." Rowan gave an attempt at a smile. "Thank-you for letting me know; I would very much like to see my sister."
"Of course." Hasel gave a slightly panicked look at Lancelot, who sighed and flipped him a coin.
"I'll take her, " the knight said. "Off you go boy." The young man caught the coin deftly, and with a quick bow, fled, obviously thankful for extracting himself from an extremely uncomfortable situation.
"Come on," Lancelot said quietly, nudging Rowan down the corridor, down the stairs and into the courtyard. Neither of them spoke, but this time she walked beside him as though seeking comfort, and when they came to the stables, Lancelot spoke to her gently. "Do you want me to go in with you?"
Rowan shook her head. "No, no thank you." Walking over to the door, she looked back and gave a twisted smile. "Alyce always wanted to meet a knight, but I don't think… It wouldn't be right, not like this." She turned the handle, blinking as the torchlight from within spilled across the cobblestones. "Will you…" Her voice died off, but her eyes were frightened as she tried to form the question.
"I'll stay here," Lancelot said quietly, saving her the trouble. "I won't go anywhere."
She gave a brief, uncertain smile before disappearing inside the room, and with a sigh, Lancelot slid down and sat with his back against the wall. He was tired, he wasn't sure what comfort he could offer to Rowan, but he did not think of leaving, and resting his head against the cold stone, he watched the braziers flicker and the bats flit through the eaves of the buildings , and waited for her to return.
A/N: Happy fourth of July to readers across the pond - I don't know, you say you want your independence and then you never write, you never phone… (only joking - have a fireworks-tastic happy day) . Oh and to my fellow Brits - fingers crossed that you haven't got washed away in all the rain. Stupid weather - grrr. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I am shamelessly shallow and insecure, so your comments really help me keep writing : )
