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SHADOWArdiath was like a shadow in the fort. A ghost of her former self as she trailed from room to room engaged in her own thoughts. Arthur had given her a room but she spoke to no body.
Joachim had been buried and the knights had attended the funeral. They had all privately made their amends with the scout as they watched his broken wife stare, almost uncomprehendingly, at his grave. Tristan had driven the sword deep into the ground as the smoke from the ceremonial fire danced around their ankles.
Galahad had never felt so torn in his life. He had confided in Joachim when they had been young knights. He had confessed to him all his hatred towards Roman's and his desire to escape and then the news came one morning that Joachim had left in the night. Had abandoned him there. Galahad always saw this as betrayal and used this fire to create and indignant righteousness that he had stayed while Joachim fled.
But he had harboured a feeling of jealously that he was somewhere else, living life as he desired. He remembered the moment Tristan told them that Joachim was leading the Saxon army towards them. The betrayal was new and fresh. But watching Ardiath he could understand to a certain extent what had driven the man to do it. She was beautiful to be sure but he could see her resilient spirit that had outlasted so much. If only Galahad could swallow his pride he would offer his condolences. But he could not.
None of the Knights could.
Arthur watched Ardiath's cold, icy eyes and felt strong pity for this wretch. She was no longer a complete human being but a husk of a vibrant young woman. He made her welcome in his home but he could do little else to ease her suffering. A man on his side had killed her husband and he couldn't even name the man for her peace of mind.
Bors had chosen to lay Joachim next to Dagonet. He knew, of all people, Dagonet would not hold a grudge and would not blame Joachim for bringing his death. Dagonet had been the older brother to most of the knights and he could be Joachim's brother in death. He would have liked to explain this to Ardiath. He wanted to share the comforting thought that Dagonet would watch her husband but he could not reach out to her.
They had trailed away leaving Ardiath by the mound of dirt that showed where Joachim lay. Tristan was the last to move away and he eyed her, hesitantly. He was the only person with less emotion than Ardiath. While she was close off, she still radiated sadness and her whole demeanour reflected her mourning but Tristan's face was neutral and blank. He kept his despair tightly locked inside his chest.
Ardiath could not see any one else's grief. She was not interested as she moved pointlessly through each long day. The world seems grey and noises were filtered and bland. If her existence became too surreal and she began to doubt her who she was or what had happened she would look at her arm.
The word Tristan still scared her forearm. It reminded her of her pain. Sometimes she would hold the knife she had stolen from the Saxons and hold it poised over her arm. The tip would barely graze the skin and there would be no blood. She did not cut herself the way she had used to because it did not feel right. Or perhaps the word was appropriate. It did not feel appropriate with Joachim dead. To spill her own life out in hot red gushes seemed foolish and selfish.
This was not the way life should be and anybody could see that if Ardiath did not receive some semblance of help soon she would fade away. The blue would seep out of her eyes leaving a sterile whiteness. But nobody helped.
Some wanted to help but it was too hard. What did one say to a woman who had lost her family and her husband in such a short span of time? There was nothing. So the knights busied themselves with the promise of returning home after Arthur's and Guinevere's wedding. They would visit then come back to help Arthur establish his country. Tristan was dreading the moment of telling his father he had failed to protect Joachim when it had been his responsibility. Even worse, he was terrified of admitting he had been the monster who strung the arrow. He was a monster. After looking into Ardiath's dying eye's he had no doubt.
Ardiath moved carefully through the villagers. It was Arthur's wedding today but that didn't matter to her. It was not that she hated him so much that she didn't care but rather she was only vaguely aware of the event. In her detached continuation only small facts trickled into her mind. Most of her day was dark and she lost large spaces of time when she would devote herself to reflection. Days melded into other days until she had forgotten what time passage meant. She remembered to sleep when the sun was gone and rise when it ascended.
There were too many people in the street and her dim alertness made it hard to navigate through the hard bodies. She subconsciously turned down a back alley. She was out the back of the shops she observed indistinctly.
"Here hold him for me," A baby was thrust into her arms by a young. The babe was mewling and crying. Ardiath looked up at the woman whose entire attention was devoted to food preparation. Her blank face and stare must have been felt by the woman who looked up and took on an expression of disconcerted concern.
"What have you never held a babe before?" The woman demanded roughly. Ardiath mutely nodded. The woman scrutinised her closely.
"Ah I recognise you. Yer the widowed lass. I'm sorry for yer loss!" The woman comment sincerely.
Ardiath did not react but looked down at the thrashing infant in her arms. Ardiath felt something stir inside her staring at the child. Was something wrong with it? Was that why it was so discontent? Her bewilderment must have shown briefly before being swallowed by stoic insouciance.
The woman smiled warmly and reassured her that it was natural. "Babies make fusses oft times. I am Vanora by the way. If you could just hold him for a time while I am knee deep in cooking I would appreciate it."
Ardiath nodded and sat on an old barrel still nursing the baby. The Baby's face had stopped screaming and was staring at her with round eyes. It's mouth quirked inquisitively. Ardiath stared back, startled by the being of new life.
It pulled her finger into its mouth and sucked on in. It looked disappointed for some reason.
"He's hungry. He's looking for milk but he'll have to wait till I finish this before I can feed him!"
"Where is his father?" Ardiath asked quietly. Her voice was hoarse and raspy since she had not spoken since the funeral. She was startled by her own question.
"Doin' what he does best I imagine. Being absent," Vanora groaned, "Or drinking."
Ardiath tilted her head and tried to process what this woman had said. She tried to recall the days when she had listened to other woman complain about their husbands. Being lazy or drinking too much. It seemed so far away from where she was right now.
"You get along well with your husband?" Ardiath, in another revelation, continued the conversation. She liked this woman with so much authority to her young face. Vanora had a rustic and homey feel about her, which comforted Ardiath. Her and her child were making Ardiath feel again. She missed clarified emotions although she welcomed the absence of no painful ones.
"Not my husband. I tell you! Eleven children to our names and he stubbornly refuses to marry me," Vanora threw something into a pot frustrated.
Ardiath widened her eyes in response. Her flesh felt tight on her face from lack of use.
"Eleven?" Her voice lacked any exclamation but Vanora predicted what tone was intended.
"Eleven and probably more where that came from," Vanora sounded disgruntled.
"Men shy away from commitment," Ardiath automatically replied, looking at the baby in her arms.
Vanora examined the woman intently. She had heard enough stories about the 'traitors wife' to know she never engaged in conversation. She was like a wraith and many superstitious people claimed she was a demon on faerie, pining for her lost knight. Standing before her now Vanora knew she was just a sad young woman who had lost everything.
The Baby gurgled.
"That's a laugh, that is!" Vanora observed happily. Ardiath smiled. It was small but it was there.
"I have to go," Ardiath said softly.
"Thank you for minding the babe for me," Vanora grinned.
"No thank you," Ardiath replied and left before Vanora had any time ponder the other woman enigmatic answer
The wedding took place by the cliffs. Ardiath liked it there. She felt her affinity with the sea and it reminded her of being home. It was a simple happy wedding with the woads and villagers joining together against future foes and Rome. Ardiath did not join the throng but watched from some higher ground.
She lost track of what was happening as she gazed out to sea and witnessed the magnificent power in those waves. She did not notice the lone figure walking up to join her.
Tristan did not say anything to her but sat beside her. She seemed enthralled with the movement of the ocean and completely oblivious to the fact the wedding was over.
"When do you leave for Sarmatia?" Ardiath said. It was the first time she had directly addressed Tristan.
"In a few days time," Tristan answered simply.
"Would you be adverse to a travelling companion?"
"To where? Have you got relatives in a neighbouring village?"
Ardiath shook her head as he mistook her question. "I wish to go to Sarmatia and meet my father in law. See where Joachim grew up."
Her tone was raw with pain and but Tristan felt relieved that she was displaying emotion! It meant there was hope for her of healing. She was tugging on a scarf that she had wound up her arm, waiting for Tristan to say something.
"We would travel most of the way with the other knights," Tristan advised, uncertain whether he himself wanted her along. Having her in his sight brought on fresh onslaughts of guilt because of his deed. To have her with him every day and night under his care was almost too painful to think of. But did he not owe his brother something? He could continue caring for the person his brother loved so much that he had given up everything for. He kept his face blank during that entire thought process and his stillness began to unnerve Ardiath.
"I do not mind being around them." Ardiath tried to make him speak. In the past days she had thought that people were too loud and rambunctious but know she wished he was talk and fill the empty silence because it held too much promise of hurtful things unsaid.
"I would be happy to take you to my tribe," Tristan stated finally. He stood and walked away wondering why he approached her in the first place when he knew it would just be difficult but now he a few months to spend with her to torture himself and wallow in guilt. To think of how he denied help to people who needed it. He could have helped them escape on that night he first saw Ardiath but he didn't. He had left them there to die! Now he must deal with the consequences.
AN: Traitor does not feel right in longer chapters besides it is kind of exhausting with the detail and the angst. I'd appreciate any reviews. Shout outs or hellos or praise or gardening tips or criticisms! Whatever strikes your fancy!
MD666
