Hey y'all. As usual, sorry about the wait. Couple of warnings for this and the following chapters – because most of it's in the movie and we all know what happens, I'm going to be skipping large parts and subtly editing others (bit of a hint there). I had a hell of a time deciding where to put breaks in as well, so be nice. Anyways, hope you enjoy it…
If you were wondering, the inspiration for the scene between Maye and Tristan near the end is from a song called 'Stuff and Nonsense' by Tim Finn.
Usual disclaimer applies. Thanks for reading and please review!
celosia
Tristan was having a nightmare. Feeling the shivers and movements of his body, Maye had propped herself up on one elbow to study him. His lips moved with soundless words and his eyelids twitched. Maye was caught between irritation (she had to be up early to see a trader) and sadness. Who knows what this man had seen and done? She didn't know what to do. Tristan had nightmares rarely but when he did it seemed to affect him dreadfully. Their Bishop was due to arrive shortly. She wondered if that had anything to do with it.
Maye remembered watching Galahad wake Lancelot once when he had fallen asleep in the tavern. He had not made it home the night before and lay sprawled across one of the tables that Maye needed to wash. She waited with a bucket of water and a rag as Galahad had gingerly shaken Lance's shoulder. That hadn't worked and Maye had jokingly offered to tip her cold water over him. Galahad had prodded Lance once more when his wrist was suddenly grasped and twisted, propelling him round until he rested with a knife at his throat.
In reflex, Maye had thrown her bucket of soapy water over both of them. Both men had later laughed it off but Maye had seen the wild panicked look in Lancelot's eye.
She looked Tristan over again and thought about calling one of the others. She did not want to end up with a knife pressed to her throat. No, she would be able to do this but first she would remove the potential weapon. Maye gingerly reached under the pillow and wiggled her fingers, searching for the small blade hidden there. Tristan had the bloody things hidden everywhere – there was even one concealed in the stonework next to the doorjamb. Gods only knew why. Encountering something hard, she tried to get a better grip on the object.
"Damn". A flash of sharp pain travelled along her hand and up her arm. The horrible, vicious little thing had nicked her! Maye wrenched her hand out from under the pillow. Blood covered her hand from a deep neat slice in her finger. Who knew a little cut could hurt so much? So much for waking Tristan gently. Despite herself she could feel tears burning her eyes. She glanced over her tightly clutched hands to see what the scout was up to and found two dark eyes blinking back at her.
"What are you doing", he asked slowly and, quite reasonably. She was sitting up in bed, clutching her hand as if her life depended on it, face screwed up in pain. Not to mention the blood.
Blood! Tristan's foggy mind cleared miraculously. He sat up and efficiently examined her wound. Scrabbling in his pack, conveniently placed next to the bed, he found a bandage and quickly tied off her wound. Tristan knew from experience that any injuries to the hands were painful.
That done he returned his gaze to Maye's face, waiting for an answer.
"You were having a nightmare and after what Lancelot did to Gal that time, I decided that it would be safer to first remove all sharp objects before trying to wake you."
Tristan didn't know whether to be amused or … Maye seemed to have that same pathetic look about her that his bird had when called from doing something she knew was wrong (like deliberately swooping Gawain). She just looked so fragile… He didn't know, maybe it was the light, but the sight of her like that made his heart jump painfully.
As they were both sitting up in bed, he swung his arm around her and cradled her gently against his side.
"Next time it happens just call my name loudly or hit me with a pillow." Maye smirked evilly at the last option, but Tristan continued, "I would never hurt you Maye".
Maye's voice sounded small and to her ears at least oddly pathetic. "I know."
He watched over her until she calmed and eventually slept. It gave him time for some important reflection. He did not know what would happen now. His service was ending and the others were talking of going home. But home was a long way away – many days ride and at least fifteen years. And then there was Maye. He still remembered the games they used to play and how long he had waited for her. Their life had developed a lovely intimacy now, like something comfortable and lived in. They were no longer trying each other out for size. Truth be told, he privately though the Maye would stack up better than any mystical Sarmatian woman of Gawain's imaginings. But now, finally secure in his relationship he wondered what would happen next.
- - - - - - -
The shout of "Riders!" echoed through the fort. Maye knew what that meant. She gave one last disgusted look at the large bucket of water she was attempting to haul to the tavern and quickly made her way to the courtyard. The washing could wait for a moment and this might be the last time she would see the knights ride in. Approaching from the opposite direction, she could see Vanora and her various children on the other side of the courtyard, behind the fencing. From her position in the shadows, Maye stepped forward and shared a delighted moment of eye contact with the other woman. They were back - The knights were finally free!
The thundering of hooves and something else caught her attention. A carriage. They had obviously found their bishop. Maye watched from the shadows as the knights lined up in formation and respectfully waited for the bishop to descend and go on his way. There was a large crowd gathered today – maybe in the hope of seeing the illustrious Bishop or in her case to see the presentation of the all-important papers. But to Maye's disappointment, after the sharing a few words with Arthur the man swept past him into the building. Of course, their freedom had to wait on one man's convenience. How very Roman.
Maye made her way back to the well. Hauling water in the middle of winter really was a horrible job. Not only did you have to crack the ice over the top but you always ended up freezing yourself half to death. And it would be so easy to build a small duct or even divert one from over… Maye stopped herself. Here she was busily concocting plans for the improvement of the fort while she did not even know if there was to be a future here. It was horrible how your mind betrayed you and all that carefully constructed farce was shattered.
She and Tristan had decided nothing (hardly surprising) but then communication had never really been their strong point. It was starting to wear her down. She could not always consider her future with the same light-hearted air that she and Dagonet had laughed over only last night. Something had to happen.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Maye, stay away from the Bishop."
It sounded suspiciously like an order. She studied him intently. His eyes were hard and his jaw was set. She could see the tense, tight line of muscle where it melded into neck.
"Lance?"
"I don't trust him. Don't go anywhere near him or his men if you can." Lancelot had a bad feeling about this. He knew that in theory, Maye had nothing to fear from Germanius. As a high-ranking Christian he was supposedly celibate and would probably only tolerate his men conducting discreet liaisons with the working girls. But Lancelot had a bad feeling about this one. The stunt with the carriage had proved he was cunning and not to be trusted. And to Lancelot, a man was a man, with a man's desires no matter the cloth he draped himself in.
After studying his face, Maye agreed easily. "Alright." She had a feeling Tristan would be equally suspicious of this Bishop.
- - - - - - -
Maye was irritated. A kind of simmering annoyance that built and built until… And there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't even amusing (at least in her opinion) so a good laugh at someone's expense was also out of the question. The only remaining options were retreat and drink. But neither were really feasible, especially because it was barely midday.
She was currently assisting the bishop's man, Horton to heat bath water for His Eminence, Bishop Gnaeus Germanius. Maye had done this more times than she could count but nothing she did seemed right in Horton's opinion. It was really beginning to get her down.
First the water she hauled was too cloudy, probably dirty. Next the fire wasn't big enough. And after all that the questions had begun. How long had she lived at the fort? What were the conditions like? Did she follow the teachings of our Lord? (Maye ended up mostly lying through her teeth.)
And then it got worse. Horton, temporarily distracted by the loud yells of some of Vanora's brood outside the window again turned his penetrating gaze upon her and asked the question Maye most dreaded.
"And do you have a husband?"
Maye couldn't lie to that one. She really did not want to tell this little creature anything but there was so much talk about the scout around the fort that he was sure to hear something sooner of later.
"Ah… sort of."
He drew himself up to his full measly height in Christian outrage, "You are not living in sin are you!"
Maye could have laughed at the picture he made if it was not all so awkward. She had a flash of brilliance, "No no, we are courting."
Horton seemed satisfied with that. He began a tour of the room, fingering the damp patches on the wall and the various washing supplies. He made small noises of disgust under his breath. Maye turned back to the fires in the hope that his curiosity was quenched. But no, there was more. "And does he work a good, honest trade?"
She considered saying that he was a carpenter but instead replied vaguely, "He works for Arthur."
As soon as the words left her mouth, Maye knew it was a mistake. Gods, he would probably wish to meet the man next. And she knew better than anyone that Tristan looked and acted nothing like a groom or personal servant. She had already heard Horton's opinion of 'those heathen knights'.
Maye quickly sought for something to forestall his next question when her eyes opportunely alighted on the jars stacked in the cupboards next to where Horton was standing. "Did your master wish for any herbs in his bath?" She almost sighed in relief.
Horton considered this for a moment and then, to Maye's relief, sniffed once and said, "I will go and ask which he would prefer."
As the door closed, Maye slumped gratefully in her chair. That man would be the death of her! She rubbed the painful crick in her neck, only to resume her diligent position in a flash as the door swung open and Horton's head appeared. His eyes flashed commandingly, "Please find out from your man, maybe, what time Arthur wishes to meet tonight." And then he was finally gone.
Maye allowed herself one breath of relief before going to the window. To her good fortune, Vanora's children were still outside. She waved and young Gilly trotted over.
"Gilly, can you go and tell Tristan I need him please?"
Without another word he sped off.
Maye stayed at the window for a moment watching and then returned to her position next to the fire. At least it was warm. She had an uncanny feeling that this was going to be a long, cold winter.
She did not have long to wait. The first she knew of Tristan's presence was the sound of her name being softly called. Maye turned to find her dear and very silent scout in the doorway, a somewhat mocking smile on his face.
"Having a fun morning, love?"
Maye snorted in reply. The knights obviously knew the whereabouts of their guests and were enjoying the thought of Maye couped up with the irrepressible Horton.
She stood and moved into the waiting circle of his arms. Thudding her head gently into his chest she mock-sobbed out her woes. "Oh Tristan. Damn that man! He is driving me into madness!"
Recalling herself for a moment, she raised her head, observing the guiltily smiling scout through narrowed eyes. "He wishes to know what time you meet this afternoon."
"Same as usual. Jols will fetch him."
Maye nodded in understanding before extricating herself and moving to attend the slowly boiling water.
She looked over her shoulder. "And Tris, if you run into dear Horton remember that I do not spend nights in your rooms, we are courting with the matchmaker's approval as good couples should and you work for Arthur in some menial but honest form of toil."
Seeing the astonished look on her usually unreadable scout's face sent Maye into a wicked burst of chuckles. It served him right for laughing at her predicament. Maye turned back to her cauldron. Gods forbid his Holiness' bath should not be perfect.
Maye was startled by the sound of Horton's weaselly voice, "And where is your man?"
She looked around slowly from her position bent over the fire. She could have sworn that Tristan was at her side just a minute ago. How did Horton get there and where was Tristan? She wished he wouldn't do that – it made things very difficult at times. "Ah, you seem to have… missed him... just."
The man looked at her in disbelief, "Just missed him? Hmmm. I saw no one in the hallway just now" His voice was sickly sweet with polite contempt. "Could you find him for me please?"
Maye stalled. If Tristan heard this rat speaking to her that way, he would… She stopped herself just in time. A meeting between the two must not happen. "He told me that the Bishop would be called before sundown."
Horton just looked at her.
Maye knew exactly what that glance meant. This creature obviously thought that she had made the whole story up. A lazy servant with an imaginary lover, ahem, man. Hah! She tried to convince Horton again. "He will be around here somewhere. He was working." She got up and hopefully scanned the area outside the window.
There was a long pause.
"Should you not go and look for him?"
Maye almost snorted at the idea of anyone looking for Tristan and finding him - the Gods themselves would have to be with her if Tristan did not want to be found. And he had disappeared pretty quickly when Horton arrived! But she couldn't very well tell this little man that could she? Evasion was always the best method to use in these sorts of situations. "Ah no. He always comes back to find me. Eventually."
Maye cringed inside as the words left her mouth. She was making him sound like a semi-trained hound of some sort. She could at this stage, have quite happily walked away from this horrible man but for a strong sense of duty. It was going to be a long morning.
Tristan had better make it up to her.
- - - - - - -
AN: Thanks for reading, and a review really would be lovely!
