They rode in silence, heading Southeast towards hill country, with Tristan's hawk flying overhead. Every spring, horses gave birth and there was a crop of two and three year olds. Dani could make her selection now and old Mathis, the breeder, would make sure the horse was ready for her to bring back in spring.

If Dani was embarrassed from last night's teasing, she gave no sign. Tristan had to tell Lancelot to arrange for payment for the horse. Then of course Lancelot had to open his big mouth at dinner. Gawain and Galahad teased Tristan; it was unlike him to volunteer his time. Eric offered to chaperone; Dani was like a big sister, and he sometimes chafed at her fussing, so he jumped at the chance to return the favor. Gault told him a crone like her needed no chaperone. Bors loudly demanded that they be left alone, with much winking. Lancelot protested that he was much better company. Dani laughed at them and Tristan ignored them.

This far South of the Wall they were unlikely to encounter Woads, and bandits preferred easier victims than armed and watchful knights, so it was a relaxing, companionable journey through a light drizzle. Tristan was reminded of a journey he had made long ago with Bedwyr, all the way to Calleva for a few days. Arthur was able to spare them more often back then as there had been more men and less trouble. In the intervening years, fifteen homesick boys had dwindled away to five hardened men. He still made trips South occasionally for Arthur; a few months ago he had been sent to Eburacum to schedule patrols to protect grain shipments to forts along the Wall. It had been a cheerless journey with no reason to linger. Tristan shook away the thought as they topped a rise and a makeshift fence came into view. A horse could easily jump over it but mares with foals were unlikely to do so. They were content to remain within its ample boundaries.

Old Mathis was glad for company. He lived with the horses and cared for them as his own children but it was a lonesome occupation. He was proud of his foals and happy to answer Dani's questions as she inspected half a dozen candidates before selecting one. Dani could be as charming as Lancelot when she wanted, Tristan discovered with mild surprise. He wondered what it would be like to have the charm directed at him. He was pleased when she sought his advice with the filly she chose.

They spent a little more time at the pasture watching the mares with foals born last spring. He found himself laughing with her at the antics of the frisky youngsters. He had not felt this lighthearted in a long time. Somehow it felt right to share laughter with Dani; he knew she would not tell the others or tease.

By the time they stopped for a midday meal of dried meat and bread on the way back, there was a tentative camaraderie between them. The hawk watched her warily as she perched on her master's gloved hand and ate strips of meat. To his own surprise, he broke the companionable silence.

'What was your country like?' Tristan asked abruptly.

She was silent for a long moment, smiling up at the overcast sky and ever-present drizzle. He thought she would ignore him.

'Dry, and hardly any cloud in the sky.' She replied wryly.

'Rough terrain, rough vegetation,' She continued softly after a while, looking into the middle distance. 'We lived in scattered villages tending small orchards and flocks. Hunting parties were out all year, sometimes staying away for weeks. Some tribes raided in lean seasons so everyone trained to fight. Protecting our homes while the hunters were away meant life or death by starvation. Sometimes slavers would sneak in to grab an unattended child.' The mask of amusement had fallen away.

'What about you?' She changed the topic. 'You will be free in less than a year. Will you go to Sarmatia? The knights talk of nothing else.' She made a face.

Tristan was old enough to remember home but when he thought about it, he felt ambivalent, so he always put off any decisions, reasoning that it was too far in the distance to think about.

'I don't know,' he said finally. 'I have had no news of my family or tribe.' No one knew if they even survived under Roman occupation.

Tristan privately wondered if he would remain a loner even if he returned and found his family. No doubt his younger siblings would be married. He could not imagine taking a wife although in his tribe a man was a father many times over by his age. Being Arthur's man at arms was a life he had grown used to. It was not a comforting thought. Introspection gave him a headache as well as a heartache.

'Would you go home, if you could?' he asked.

'I cannot go home. I am dead to my people,' Dani said without looking at him. 'In my country, an outcast finds quick death from the elements because none will give him shelter.'

'We should go back.' She stood up, ending the conversation. 'Lancelot's dinner will be dull without me.' The flippancy was back.

As they swung into their saddles and headed back to Badon Fort, Tristan felt his loneliness ease. His brothers cared for him, would die for him, but he knew they also feared and misunderstood him, all except perhaps Arthur and Lancelot. He had found another soul who did not burden him with questions or expectations, who did not fear him and who was content to keep silent company. He looked forward to winter.

Author's note:

Calleva is modern day Silchester.

The idea of Arthur keeping a horse breeder comes from Rosemary Sutcliff's 'Sword at Sunset'.