Chapter Eight: Extreme Prejudice
"Iseult…Are you sure about this?" asks Gawain as they stand back, watching Dagonet lift Flanna up onto Iseult's horse.
Iseult adjusts the bow now slung over her shoulder and nods.
"I am much more able-bodied than she and there is not enough room left in the wagons. I can walk if necessary."
The golden-haired knight wants to point out to her that she still seems very thin from her journey and might not be in the best physical condition for such a strenuous activity, but he knows mentioning this would only serve to raise her defenses. She would take it as him thinking her to be weak and she might decide to walk the entire way back to the wall. No. He must be clever in his wording.
"Why not ask for a ride from someone? Perhaps Dagonet? Or Tristan even?"
At his name, she seems to stiffen and Gawain instantly regrets having so carelessly thrown the scout's name into the conversation. Had the man even said a word to the woman since their match at the wall?
Her eyes darken as she replies with a forced calm.
"I doubt that would go well for either party involved."
"You never know. Maybe he will talk to you if the rest of us are not around," he suggests, only partially optimistic.
"Maybe…"
"Well, you can at least ask when he returns."
She remains silent but he can see that she is considering it.
"It is… not impossible."
Movement from behind Iseult catches the knight's attention, and he watches a moment before returning his gaze to her.
"I would decide quickly. He has returned."
Iseult turns and watches as Tristan rides toward Arthur. Even from here, she can see that he is hunched over slightly. She cannot but wonder at the cause of the rather uncharacteristic posture. Had he run into trouble? Is he hurt?
Gawain climbs onto his horse and then looks to Iseult who has a worried frown on her face. He follows her line of sight and notices what she had and wonders much the same. Surely the ever-watchful scout is not hurt. There must be another reason for his slouch.
Tristan must be tired is all… Right?' Gawain thinks even as the doubt slowly seeps into his mind.
He looks to Iseult. The woman is still watching the scout with her brown eyes, probably trying to will herself into being able to hear the conversation he is now having with Arthur.
"Iseult," he calls, getting her attention and holding his hand out to her. "Come. I'll get you over there."
She nods and grabs his hand, allowing him to help her onto the horse. Once she is situated, Gawain looks to Dagonet.
"Dag," he barks and the knight turns to look at him, "Tristan has returned."
Dagonet follows Gawain's gaze toward the estate and sees Tristan speaking with Arthur. The knight quickly calls upon one of the villagers to come over and take Mairete's reins. With a nod to Flanna, he walks to his own horse and mounts, nodding to Gawain. Almost instantaneously, they both urge their horses forward, sending them into a canter toward the walls of the estate.
By the time they get there and stop their horses, Tristan and Arthur have finished talking and the tattoo of not distant enough Saxon drums echoes loudly across the hills and landscape. All the knights, Arthur, Iseult, and those of the estate stop what they are doing and listen to the strange sound, the sound of Death's footsteps a few of those listening cannot avoid thinking.
"Come on. Get back to work!" demands a voice that breaks the eerie trance. Arthur, the knights, and Iseult all turn to see a guard yelling at two monks walling up the door of a small stone building.
"Back to work," repeats the other guard.
Arthur stares at the monks as they continue to wall up the door and his eyebrows furrow. He draws Excalibur and dismounts. As he walks toward the two monks and the two Romans, Tristan follows him on his horse, offering a silent challenge to any who might try to harm his commander.
Arthur raises Excalibur, pointing at one of the guards with the dangerously gleaming sword.
"Move," he says, continuing to advance.
The guards grip their swords tighter and look around almost nervously but do not budge.
"Move," Arthur repeats, slightly more forcefully than the last.
Bors rides forwards and gets closer, weapon drawn. His presence, to be certain, is an imposing one for the guards. They glance nervously at him until the bigger threat reminds them of its existence.
"Move!" commands Arthur, the sword becoming a little too close for comfort in the guard's opinion as he moves.
As Lancelot nudges his horse forward, it practically head butts the guard closest to it who barely dodges in time.
Seeing that they had done as he had asked, he points with his sword at the door that is almost completely walled up.
"What is this?" he demands.
"You cannot go in there," one of the monks declares. "No one goes in there. This place is forbidden."
The flat of Excalibur pushing against the man's shoulder is enough to convince him and his monk friend to move as Arthur bids them and they soon find themselves standing by an unhappy Gawain, Iseult behind him.
Iseult dismounts, shoving roughly past the monks even as she draws one of her knives. She holds it in her left hand, ready in case of a fight, though, she doubts that anyone here will challenge the knights or their commander.
"What are you doing?" exclaims an outraged voice that Iseult has already branded in her mind as the Roman pig, Marius. "Stop this!"
She turns, more than happy to stop him herself, but Bors rounds his horse to block the man's way, halting him in his tracks.
When Iseult turns back to Arthur, he is running a hand over the wall.
"Arthur, we have no time," warns Lancelot.
The Roman commander seems to not hear his friends as he continues his examination of the wall.
"Do you not hear the drums?"
At Galahad's question, Arthur turns to face those gathered around him and jerks his head toward the door.
"Dagonet."
The giant knight understands and dismounts, pulling his battle-axe from its holster on his saddle. Stepping up to the door, he gets into his stance, situates his hands on the axe and swings, releasing a yell as he does.
A few of the rocks fall from the top, and Dagonet resumes his stance and swings again, this time his full weight behind the motion as he issues another cry. Even more rocks fall to the man's sheer force. Everyone watches the wall fall, entranced by the almost unnatural power in the man's arms.
Finally, when the wall of rocks has been defeated—felled by his strength and his battle-axe— he shifts the axe, holding it effortlessly in one hand as he kicks the door once, testing to see if it is locked. Finding that it is, he looks to Arthur for instruction. The commander in turn looks to the Roman guards.
"Key."
"It is locked…" the man begins, looking around uneasily, "from the inside…"
Arthur returns his gaze to Dagonet and nods. The knight leans against the door frame and hunches slightly, his left leg behind him, his right leg bent; his whole frame is positioned to allow a great deal of power to be channeled through his body and to the door.
In preparation, his body tenses and then he kicks out, a loud thud resounding. The door shakes but does not give and so he leans back even further. Once more, his body tenses and this time, he kicks out with even more force.
A thunderous crack precedes the door swinging open and the dark look on Dagonet's face worries those standing around him.
He moves back to stand behind Arthur who has picked up a torch as Lancelot draws one of his swords and dismounts.
Iseult walks to stand beside Dagonet. The knight glances at her briefly and the look on his face does not escape her. His look is dark, but what could trouble him so?
When Arthur steps through the door, the torchlight illuminating the inside quickly answers this question for her.
Chains, shackles, and sharp implements hang from the ceiling, the dark and rust-stained metal gleaming in the light of the torch.
Lancelot and Dagonet step in behind Arthur, but Iseult does not follow. Instead, she watches as Gawain looks at the two monks standing in front of him.
"You, you… Go."
The monks look anxious and do not budge so the rather bulky knight grabs one by the collar and pushes them both toward the entrance.
"Move!" he barks, pushing them through the door.
Iseult casts one look at Tristan who has ridden closer to them and pulled his sword, once more daring anyone to step forward and meet Death. Seeing that, once again, he will neither look at her nor acknowledge her presence, she steps into the darkness, quickly aligning herself beside Dagonet.
The knight glances down at her, and he notices the slight tightening of her jaw and the way her eyes seem to dart around the dark tunnel just as warily as she had in the forest after the Woad attack. What could possibly upset her so much?
He casually allows his hand to bump hers in an effort to get her to look at him and she does.
For the first time, he sees something in her eyes that is very close to fear before her defenses are again in place.
"Sorry," he whispers, trying to continue the ruse that he had accidentally hit her hand.
She nods and then averts her eyes elsewhere, anywhere else, to keep from having to hold the knight's gaze.
Dagonet sees more than the other knights, understands more. If anyone would be able to figure out her weakness, he would. Well, he or Tristan. Of course, the way the scout had ignored her since she had proven that she could accompany them, he probably would not be an issue.
Yet, in fact, it is the scout's fault that she is what she is now. It is his fault that she had become so accustom to open spaces, freedom.
He had taught her about nature and how to survive in it. He had always seemed to prefer the wide open to the closed huts. How many nights did they sleep outside under the stars, sitting in their tree? She, leaned up against him and he with his arm around her, keeping her warm despite the cold, bitter wind. How she treasures those moments in their tree, far from the accusing eyes of the villagers who thought her some sort of demon.
After he had been taken by Rome, she had spent as much time as possible outside, enjoying freedom for the both of them. The wide open reminds her of that freedom. Freedom and good memories and, in essence, the times she had spent with Tristan. Strangely enough, continuing the habit of being outside and falling asleep in their tree had almost made her feel as if he were closer somehow, as if he were not in a completely different land far, far away.
Even though he is now only outside, being in the rather closed space of dark and forbidding room makes her feel as if he is miles away. At this thought, she cannot restrain the shiver that runs down her spine and she tries to think of anything else, unwittinngly taking a step closer to Dagonet in the process.
'What is wrong with her?' he wonders, continuing to stare at her a moment longer before turning his attention to the stairs he must descend.
Halfway down, a low sound can be heard by all. The closer the group draws to the foot of the stairs, the louder and more distinct the noise becomes until it is recognizable as a man's voice, chanting.
"Exaudi orationem meam. Exaudi orationem meam."
They reach the bottom of the steps and the room opens into an open space. For a moment, Dagonet can see Iseult relax, but then her eyes widen and he hears her sharp intake of air.
"In nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis et in virtute Spiritus Sancti."
Even before he entirely steps down into the room, his chest tightens. At the entrance of the stairs is a single dead corpse, strung up with chains. As he looks around the room, several more corpses line the sidewalls.
Chains hold the thin and rotting corpses to the wall, watching with sightless eyes those who enter their tomb. There is one prominent feel to it all:
Death.
Death is in the air. Death is hanging over them. Death is gripping their souls, trying to drag the new arrivals into the same oblivion that the former occupants had been forced.
The massive knight stares at the room, disgust and shock evident on his face. Simply to get his eyes off the grisly scene, he looks to Iseult.
Her face is pale and drawn, her eyes wide. The lighting of the torch makes her appear even thinner than she is and she appears as though she is not far from the fate that these people had met. This thought disturbs the kind-hearted knight enough that he reaches out and places his hand on her upper back, just between her shoulder blades.
She jumps as if she expects to turn and see Death itself standing behind her waiting to lay claim to her and she almost flinches away. Upon realizing it is Dagonet—not Death—that has placed his hand upon her, she glances up at him gratefully and takes a small step closer to him. It dawns on him that she, too, must feel how near is Death.
He glances around the dark chamber, keeping his hand on her back to reassure the both of them that at least one other person in the horrid room is alive.
"Gawain," Lancelot says quietly, breaking the silence. He motions for Gawain to pass him the torch and the knight quickly does so.
Finally being allowed a full view, the golden-haired knight disgustedly looks around the room.
Arthur begins walking forward toward another room, and Dagonet follows, moving his hand to Iseult's shoulder and leading her forward while she stares in shock at the ghastly sight.
In all honesty, he can neither blame her nor can he attribute this to her being a woman. No. Even he, a seasoned and scarred Sarmatian knight, has to swallow back the sickening feeling in his stomach.
As they approach the inner room, a skeletal-looking man in a habit steps out and scornfully looks at the group.
"Who are these defilers of the Lord's temple?" he says, his voice bringing a cold chill to the air.
"Move," Lancelot orders, shoving the monk out of the way and entering the room, Arthur following behind him. The curly-haired knight's eyes disgustedly pan the room, finding what is in this room even more horrible than the last.
As Arthur crouches next to the wall, Dagonet watches but cannot see at what his commander looks. He does, however, see Lancelot spin around to glare daggers at the man.
"The work of your God. Is this how he answers your prayers?" he spits.
Dagonet removes his hand from Iseult's shoulder, not wanting to bring her into the room if she does not wish to enter, as he releases her shoulder and steps into the room, panic seizes her and she quickly follows, her hand gripping the back of his sleeve.
The smell and sights that assault her leave her head spinning. She wants so much to run back outside, despite her effort to keep up her façade, but her own terror holds her there. Her own terror keeps her unable to do anything but stare.
Being a warrior, she by no means has a weak stomach. She has seen and done many things, many horrible things without so much as batting an eyelash. Yet, she has never seen, nor imagined in her darkest nightmares, such sick images as what lay in front of her eyes at this very moment.
What were once people—men, women, children, elderly—are now rotting corpses so disgusting that she can feel a bitter taste rising up in her throat and she has to swallow it back and close her eyes to keep from emptying the contents of her stomach. She leans into Dag's arm, breathing in the scent of his clothes rather than the wretched smell that fills the air.
The knight glances down at her. She looks so fragile and pale, a high contrast to the borderline indifference and defiance to which he had grown accustom. He places one hand on her much smaller one, trying his best to soothe her.
"See if there's any still alive," Arthur commands.
Immediately, Dagonet pats her hand and she begrudgingly releases her grip on his sleeve, stepping back as she does. She keeps her eyes closed, and in doing so, misses the subtle look that Dag sends to Gawain who steps forward, taking Dagonet's place and putting an arm around her shoulders.
Iseult jumps, her eyes snapping open and she only relaxes upon discovering that it is merely Gawain. For some reason, she is not quite as comfortable with the lion-like knight as she is with his gigantic brother, but she is still not uncomfortable and leans back slightly but this time does not shut her eyes.
Instead, she watches as Dagonet lifts one of the heavy grates that leads down and as he almost gags at the sight and the smell. He steps back quickly and covers his mouth, looking away.
Lancelot, in the meantime, hacks one of the chains for the cages low down on the walls and moves the grate in front of the opening.
"How dare you set foot in this holy place!" one of the monks says, trying to force Lancelot up, but the knight has different plans and runs the disturbed monk through with extreme prejudice.
As he withdraws his sword and the man crumples to the ground, one of the other monks points to the lifeless form.
"There was a man of God."
"Not my God!" Lancelot exclaims angrily even as Iseult watches Dag lift another grate.
"This one's dead," Dagonet states.
"By this smell, they are all dead," Gawain's voice comes from beside her. He moves his arm from around her and steps forward, but spins around on the monks. "And you. You even move, you join them."
He then continues forward, as Arthur looks into yet another cage. Just then, Dagonet swings open another grate and looks in.
"Arthur!" Dag exclaims, an almost happy tone to his voice.
Everyone turns to look at him and he quickly reaches down into the small pit and lifts out a sickeningly thin and bruised boy with curly brown hair.
As he sits him down on the stone, the boy looks at him, frightened, and Dagonet bends down slightly, pointing at the child as he does so.
"You must not fear me."
The boy seems to focus on him for a moment, but then looks away. Iseult starts to step forward to help Dag, but he holds a hand up.
"Iseult, stay over there," he instructs her, thinking about the fact that she is in no condition to see the rather grotesque sights within the other pits he has already checked. Upon him gesturing to the other pits, she realizes why he has told her to stay where she is and does so without complaint.
Gawain hunches over with the torch and looks inside yet another cage and finds nothing but dead bodies.
Not a moment later, though, Arthur bends over, examining one of the other cages when he comes face to face with a frightened pair of eyes. Seeing Arthur's reaction, Lancelot, too, crouches down. Arthur passes him the torch he had been holding and then stands. He goes into a stance and then brings the full weight of Excalibur down upon the chain that holds the grate which had trapped the woman within the confines of the cage.
Dagonet turns around to look at Iseult and when she meets his eyes, he speaks.
"Iseult, go outside quickly and tell them to ready water. We will be out shortly."
She nods and without a word, hurries from the room, and towards the stairs. She ascends them two at a time, making herself ignore the feeling of the walls closing in on her. Instead, she forces herself to focus on the task Dagonet had given her. Right now, what is important is getting water for those two people down there: the girl and the young boy.
A few more steps and suddenly she is outside, breathing in the cool, fresh air.
