Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with King Arthur. Only my characters.
Chapter Ten: Look, But Don't Touch
March was coming to an end and spring's entrance was still continuing to roar in with thunderous storms. Despite the irritable weather, things at the fort seemed to be calm. But nobody really spoke of the peace and quiet, they merely went on with their routine as any other day, perhaps; afraid to tempt fate and the serenity would vanish. And though people did not express their tranquility with words, it was easily read on the smiling faces. Two months had passed since the knights returned safely from their long journey and Sarah couldn't begin to explain how relieved she was that they were all alive and unharmed. She wondered if her prayers had actually paid off, or if it was just coincidence; a very wonderful coincidence.
Sarah stood in the washroom as she pulled her hair back into a twist that crowned where her neck and hairline met. She removed the last pin from between her teeth and pushed it into place. She huffed in frustration as a few tendrils refused to cooperate but soon accepted it and gave up trying to force them back. Sarah wrapped a tan piece of cloth around her waist to resemble a skirt, when in fact, it was merely a cover to hide the light brown breeches she wore underneath. She was on her way to meet Tristan for their training session. He'd been teaching her for a month, making sure things were settled down completely before jumping into a less important matter. Though, she didn't exactly feel that her knowing how to defend herself was unimportant, but less so in comparison to the ever warring world around her.
The sessions were going, for lack of a better word, alright. Certainly not as well as she, and probably Tristan, had hoped. She had no idea what she was doing and she could tell that he sometimes became impatient, though he was never discouraging; which she greatly appreciated due to the fact that she discouraged herself enough for the both of them. At one point she wanted to give up entirely but he strongly convinced her that she needed to continue. And by saying 'strongly convinced', meaning he had reminded her with vivid detail why she was doing it. Details that she didn't even know he was aware of. How did he know so much? She figured it was the ways of a scout.
Sarah opened the door softly and closed it silently behind her as she entered the bedroom. She paused to examine Galahad sleeping. She smiled and furrowed her brow at his position that looked extremely uncomfortable. Sarah picked up her shoes and walked around the bed, sitting on the mattress gently so she wouldn't disturb his slumber.
"Going to work?" He mumbled sleepily. His voice was hoarse and it sounded nasally.
She and Galahad had argued for hours the day Vanora informed her that she was now employed at the tavern. He made it clear that he didn't want her to work there and tried to persuade her to find an occupation in a field less surrounded by drunken men. Sarah explained that she had no experience in the 'normal' labors of a woman; she wasn't a very good cook and she had never learned to sew. Galahad stubbornly argued that she could learn. She assured him that she would be working with Vanora and asked why he had such an aversion to the option when Bors didn't mind that his lover practically ran the place.
His answer was simple: He wasn't Bors and she wasn't Vanora.
Sarah decided to compromise with him. She asked him to allow her a week and see what happened. He agreed, reluctantly, and every night he was there to observe her, not to mention the actions of the other men. When he found no reason to use against her, he had to concede.
"Yes," she turned to face him, his eyes were still closed, "How are you feeling?" Galahad had been sick for the past few days. He didn't have a fever but he felt terrible over all.
"Tired…" he answered through a yawn that made him cough. She leaned over and rubbed his convulsing chest, hoping to soothe him. He groaned with discomfort as his lungs settled.
"Do you want me to make you some tea? It may help…" Sarah began to lace her boots.
"No," Galahad shook his head weakly, "I don't think I can drink anymore for the rest of my life." Whenever he had woken, which was often in his uncomfortable restlessness, he had drank nothing but tea in hopes to alleviate his sore throat.
She chuckled, "Alright…" She had finished with her shoes and knelt on the mattress beside him. She leaned down and kissed his pale cheek, "Get some more rest. I'll be back later."
"Are you sure you want to come back? I don't want you to get sick."
"Don't worry about me, just worry about getting better." She kissed him again and he nodded, closing his lids.
Sarah secured the bag on her shoulder as it began to slip off. It held a dress she would change into before she went to work. She was making her way to the stables, where she would meet Tristan before they walked to a training field that was rarely used, as it was on the other side of the fort. She saw a familiar form walking in the same direction in front of her.
"Gawain!" Sarah beckoned as she jogged to meet him. He didn't stop and made no sign of hearing her. She called again as she came closer, "Hi Gawain. How are you to-" Her words halted immediately as he turned to look at her with such a cold expression she felt her body freeze. She was taken aback by the fury in his eyes.
"What do you want, Sarah?" His voice was as icy as his face.
She hesitated, her mind was swirling, trying to figure if she had done something to anger him. When she found no reason she stuttered, "I… I was just wond-" She furrowed her brow, "Are you alright?"
He rolled his eyes and huffed, "Do you need something?" His tone was filled with such hatred and venom that Sarah's eyes began to water.
"N-no…" she whispered as she looked away from his callous stare, "Have you seen Tristan?" She asked quickly, though she didn't need him to answer, she just didn't know what to say. She didn't realize she needed an excuse to talk to him.
"No, I haven't." Gawain's jaw was clenched, his lips barely moving, "I'm not his keeper." His gaze broke away for the slightest second, and she noticed his demeanor soften, but in the next instant his defenses were back up.
"Well," Sarah narrowed her eyes at the man, "Sorry to have bothered you, Gawain." She spoke the words harshly, she was offended by his discourtesy, "But there's no reason to be rude." The look he shot her then gave her the urge to run, but she was still frozen, afraid to move. She had a feeling that this is what he looked like on the battlefield while he killed. And she was currently the enemy.
Gawain glanced behind her then pushed past, brushing upon her shoulder with his, jolting her body slightly. Sarah stood bewildered.
"You'll have to excuse Gawain…" Lancelot's voice spoke from close behind her. It was he that Gawain had looked to before he left. Sarah turned to him, he was looking in the direction of his retreating comrade and shook his head sadly, "He's not himself today."
Sarah scoffed, "I think I figured that out." Lancelot gave her a crooked grin, but it wasn't happy. She sighed and spoke softly, "What's his problem? Is he mad at me?"
"He's mad at everyone… he's angry with the world," he explained.
"And why is that?" Sarah still sounded aggravated.
Lancelot hesitated for a moment, he seemed to be lost in thought. A glum countenance touched his handsome features, making him nearly unrecognizable. He drew a deep breath then exhaled, "Five years ago, his younger brother Gareth was killed in battle. Five years ago today."
Sarah's heart skipped a beat as guilt clogged her veins, "Oh… I didn't know. I feel horrible for chastising him."
Lancelot put his hand on her shoulder, "Don't worry… If I know Gawain, he already regrets treating you rudely."
"He had good reason to," she whispered.
"He used to say that about Gareth," Lancelot said solemnly.
She wasn't sure what he was talking about, "Say what?"
"That he wasn't his keeper…"
Sarah now understood the expression that had flashed on Gawain's face after he spoke those words. It was sadness. Thunder erupted deeply within the dense clouds hovering low above them.
"Are you going into the stables?" Lancelot inquired as he pointed at the building nearby.
"Uh… yes," Sarah was happy that he didn't ask why as they walked together. She was suddenly curious to find out more about Gawain's brother, "So, Gareth, I haven't heard anything about him. He was a knight?"
Lancelot nodded, "Yes. He was the youngest… Gawain, he acts like this two days of the year; today, the day he died, and the day of his birthday. So you may notice that Gawain doesn't exactly enjoy his own… Gareth was born the day before Gawain turned three."
They entered the stables just as the rain began to pour down. It was dark inside, the thick walls muted the sounds of the storm.
"What was he like?" Sarah asked as Lancelot began to brush the dark coat of his stallion.
"Gareth?" he asked and she nodded. He pursed his lips while he thought, "He was a lot like Gawain… in personality as well as looks. He was a bit of prankster…" Lancelot let out a small chuckle, which in turn made Sarah smile. He continued with a lighter tone, "I was their favorite subject to torture."
"They?" she asked with raised brows.
"He and Galahad," Lancelot shook his head in amusement at the memories. Sarah remembered the conversation with her lover, the day they kissed for the first time.
"Rats?" She smiled slyly to him.
He narrowed his ebony eyes to her, "Galahad told you?"
"He mentioned it… but never Gareth." She shrugged.
"Did you know that Galahad and Gawain used to hate each other?" he asked.
Her eyes widened in genuine shock and shook her head. She couldn't imagine those two not being friends, let alone enemies.
"It's true," Lancelot let out another laugh and continued grooming the horse, "It was actually Gareth that Galahad was best friends with… Gawain didn't approve; he thought he was a bad influence on his brother."
Sarah couldn't help but giggle at the somewhat ridiculous thought of Galahad being a bad influence.
Lancelot agreed silently and shrugged his shoulders, "But in fact, it was usually Gareth who got them into trouble… Galahad would just take the blame for him." His voice was fading back into sadness and Sarah waited silently for him to continue. He cleared his throat, "Gawain… he watched from a distance as his brother fell. Galahad was there, trying to defend him…" Lancelot's eyes seemed to be far off, as if he was back at that very place and day, "He didn't even leave when Gareth was lying dead… he just continued to protect his friend." The amount of emotion that came from Lancelot's voice as he spoke brought tears to Sarah's eyes. She watched as he swallowed hard and shook his head, "Galahad was loyal to the end… I think that's what made Gawain change his mind about him. He respected him. They grieved together… they had both lost a brother that day."
"We all did." The new voice startled Sarah, though the words were no more than muttered.
"Tristan." Lancelot nodded his head once, not seeming at all surprised with his presence. Sarah figured the simple gesture was both an agreement as well as a greeting.
The scout addressed her, "The rain has passed. Are you ready?" His clothing was blotched, darker where the water absorbed into the fabric and his hair was heavy, crystal droplets clung shakily to the ends.
"Yes," she felt flustered, all this information was overwhelming, but she was happy to learn more of her lover's past. Lancelot arched a brow at both of them but didn't ask what they were doing. He couldn't get himself interested enough to care at the moment. Sarah picked up her bag she had let rest on the floor as he told her of his fallen comrade, "Thank you, Lancelot… for telling me about him." He only nodded again. His mood now corresponded with the weather, dark and gloomy, though no longer storming. He had been subdued.
Sarah rolled the sleeves of her white tunic up to her elbows as Tristan prepared for their session. She watched as he pulled out a piece of wood that was carved to resemble a sword.
"You don't expect me to learn to wield one of those, do you?" she looked at him skeptically, "I haven't even learned to defend myself with my hands…"
"This isn't for you," he responded, not looking at her, his eyes examined the training weapon. Her expression now appeared to be worried. He glanced to her, "The Roman soldier, he was armed, correct?" She nodded and he stepped toward her, "Tell me what happened."
Sarah wasn't sure if she was ready to relive that night or the position she was put in.
She gulped, swallowing her anxiety, and moved to him, "He grabbed me from behind, putting a hand over my mouth, and the sword to my throat."
Tristan nodded and stared at her for a moment. Before she realized what happened he had turned her around, his body pressed against her back and he was in the stance she had described. Sarah's muscles tensed painfully as it brought back the memories and her gasp caught in her lungs.
"Like this?" He asked calmly. She clenched her eyes shut as his breath blew across her ear and nodded. It had been exactly like this. Though, the wooden sword didn't feel as cold against her skin as the metal blade had, but she felt its sting nonetheless. Her breathing quickened and his hand on her mouth made it difficult, just the same as the Roman's hand. Her body trembled slightly, but enough for Tristan to notice.
"Are you alright?" he asked. The air of his lungs on her flesh made her feel nauseas. She began to nod, then quickly shook her head. He immediately released his hold and she swiftly stepped away.
Sarah kept her back to him as she drew deep breaths and she heard him mumble something that sounded like an apology, but she couldn't be certain. After she was able to calm herself to a reasonable level she turned to look at him, plastering on a fake smile, "Sorry… I guess I wasn't expecting that."
He shrugged a shoulder, "Now I know what technique to teach you."
He showed her a move that could incapacitate the attacker long enough to get away. She was getting frustrated and claimed that she wasn't strong enough. He explained that strength had nothing to do with it, leverage was the key. Sarah was becoming discouraged and cranky with the fact that she was failing miserably.
"I can't do it, Tristan!" She nearly shouted, "Can you show me something else?"
"No." He answered simply. She wondered if that were true or if he was just being as stubborn as herself. She figured it was the latter.
She rolled her eyes, "I don't want to do this anymore today."
"Again," he ignored her.
"I can't do-"
"Again," his amber eyes bore into hers and she thought it best not to argue.
"Fine." She threw her hands in the air and moved back to him.
"Concentrate," Tristan urged, hoping she would finally manage to succeed.
She was determined to get it right this time. She used all the force she could muster as she maneuvered out of his grasp. In her fury, she ended up using too much force and underestimated herself. Sarah tripped clumsily as she tried to steady her body but slipped on the wet earth. She fell backward, placing her arms out to catch herself. The inside of her left forearm went down, meeting the hardness of a jagged rock that was protruding from the ground and it sliced up the flesh. She yelped in pain, which resulted in Tristan letting out a guttural chuckle. Or at least it sounded like a chuckle.
She tightly hugged her injured arm to her chest, her face contorted in pain, "It's not funny!" she hissed.
He knelt beside her, she looked up to see him trying to hide a grin, "Let me see."
"Don't touch me!" Sarah pulled away.
"Don't be such a baby," his grin was no longer being hidden, "It's probably just a bruise." He held out his hand as a gesture to allow him to see. She rolled over in defeat and closed her eyes tightly as the wound ached stronger.
"Hmm," Tristan took her arm, moving it away from her chest, "That's a lot of blood." Her eyes shot open in alarm and glanced down quickly. Sure enough, her skin and the front of her tunic were soaked in bright crimson.
"Let's get you to Dagonet," Tristan spoke calmly, like always, "Do you think you can walk?"
"Yes," Sarah stood, with his help, but swayed and blinked her blurry eyes.
He steadied her and wrapped her good arm around his shoulders while supporting her waist. Tristan guided her to a bench and rummaged in his bag. He pulled out a rag and tied it tightly around the wound in hopes to slow the bleeding. He helped her up again, resuming their positions and led her through the fort. They received some strange looks from passing citizens as they noticed the girl covered in her life's essence then shot suspicious looks at Tristan.
By the time they reached the doors of the infirmary he was nearly carrying her limp body. Sarah was weak and feeling rather woozy, her strength seemed to leave her as the blood continued to seep out through the now drenched rag.
"By the gods, Tristan… What did you do to her?" She vaguely recognized Dagonet's voice.
"I didn't do anything. She fell," he answered and placed her onto a cot. Her head bobbed and her lids fluttered.
"Lay her down before she falls again," the tall knight instructed and Tristan did as he was told.
"My bag," Sarah mumbled. She remembered that she had left it hanging on one of the fence posts.
"I'll go back for it," Tristan informed her, "And I'll tell Vanora you may be late for work."
"Thanks," Sarah groggily responded and heard the door close behind him. She felt strange. Like she had drank far too much. She was so out of it she hadn't even noticed that Dagonet had removed the cloth and was examining the injury.
"You're going to need stitches," he told her softly. She groaned in understanding and misery. He quickly tied a clean bandage on and went to gather the needed tools on the table nearby. Sarah stared at the ceiling as she waited.
"This is going to sting," he informed her right before he poured a strong smelling liquid over the gash. She hissed loudly and clenched her fists.
"Ow!" She yelled at him and he only smiled sympathetically.
"The worst is over," he picked up a needle and expertly threaded the fiber through the eye.
"Somehow I doubt that," she was looking at the needle like it was a monster.
"You may be surprised," Dagonet repositioned her arm that she had unconsciously withdrew from him, "I'll be gentle." To her relief, he was right. It was still unpleasant, but it was just a dull stinging sensation. A small knock came from the door.
"Enter," Dagonet answered to it without removing his attention from his work.
"Sorry to bother you," Amon poked his head in, "but do you know if we have any fennel left?"
Dagonet stopped and turned around to answer him, and Amon could now see Sarah laying with her eyes half-open. He walked in completely as the knight continued to think.
"Hello, Sarah," Amon grinned down at her, "What happened this time?"
This was the third time this month she had visited the infirmary, all results of her training with Tristan and every time she had fallen. The first incident she had hit her head, and the scout insisted that she get it looked at. It turned out to be nothing, except for a headache afterward. The second visit came after she had tripped and was convinced that she had broken her foot, but it was no more than a sprain, not to say it wasn't painful; she limped for the three days following.
"I fell," she replied flatly.
"Again?" he asked, apparently amused with her clumsiness.
She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. He was still handsome, but he didn't have the same effect on her as when they'd first met. She determined that it was merely the fact that large amounts of wine and loneliness don't mix. The morning after they had talked at the tavern, she went to speak with Vanora. She explained to her that she felt immense guilt for feeling any attraction to him.
Vanora laughed at her and rationalized that just because she loved one man didn't mean she would automatically stop noticing others. The redhead even admitted that she did, and told Sarah that it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as she didn't follow through on her silly human urges. Look, but don't touch. The simplicity of the logic eased Sarah's worries. She knew for certain that that would never be an issue, and that she was utterly in love with Galahad. Only he could make her happy now.
"Yes, I fell, again." She answered and draping her free arm over her pale face.
"Hmm, well, at least it looks legitimate this time," he chuckled.
"Check in the drawer, third one down on the left," Dagonet resumed his duty, causing Sarah to flinch.
"Thanks, Dag." Amon began shuffling through the compartment, "Aha, here is some… Hope you feel better, Sarah."
She waved her hand lazily to him. She heard him chuckle again then shut the door as he left.
"There. All finished," Dagonet snipped the end of the thread and preceded to apply a salve over the now closed cut, "You'll need to put this on every time you change the bandage, which will be twice a day."
"Thank you," Sarah watched his actions carefully as he firmly wrapped her arm again.
"How many?" Tristan's voice came from the newly opened entrance.
"Twelve," Dagonet answered, obviously knowing what his friend was asking.
"Twelve what?" Sarah was confused.
"Stitches," he replied smiling, "Not too shabby for your first time."
"And hopefully last," she laughed.
"You'll need to come back in a few weeks so I can remove the sutures," Dagonet informed her as he stood and put away his instruments. He half-turned his body to her, but never looked at her. She could see a grin pull at the side of his mouth, "Although, I don't think I'll have to wait that long to see you here again." He was teasing her.
"Ha ha, very funny," she rolled her eyes, but couldn't fight her own amusement, "I'm sure you're probably right."
"Here's your bag," Tristan let it plop heavily on her mattress, "And I talked to Vanora."
Sarah sat up slowly, testing her senses, "Thanks, Tristan."
"She now knows that you dropped a mug of ale, slipped on the wet floor and sliced your arm on the broken shards." He explained while staring out the window.
"Oh, I see…" Sarah smiled at the made up story, "That sounds like it could have actually happened… especially to me."
"She came up with it," he agreed, "She knows you well."
Besides Sarah and Tristan, only Dagonet and Vanora, and thus probably Bors as well, knew about her training sessions. Amon merely thought she was the most clumsy person he knew. None of the other knights had any idea, and she began to wonder if she should just tell Galahad. Maybe he wouldn't even care. Why would he?
"Well, I better get dressed and get to work," Sarah stood and wavered slightly, Dagonet quickly had her sit back down.
"Are you sure you're feeling able to work tonight?" he asked concerned.
"Sure, I'm already starting to feel better," she stood again, slower this time, and was happy that her head didn't object too much to the movement.
After she had dressed, with some difficulty, but before she left, Dagonet made her eat and drink, to replenish her body's losses. He also packed her a small bag stuffed with clean bandages and a container of the ointment. Her arm was sore, but she felt almost like herself again.
It was well into the night as Sarah was shuffling behind the counter. Vanora was concerned with her injury, insisting that she stay at the bar instead of lifting heavy trays and buzzing between the tables. Sarah was on dishwashing duty, trying her best not to get her bandage wet, which wasn't the easiest thing to do. Her wound was beginning to ache terribly as the weight of the mugs strained the muscles in her arm. She flexed her fingers open and closed in hopes to ease the pain.
"Sarah," a deep voice sounded from the counter she had her back turned to.
She glanced around and found Gawain leaning against it, looking weary, "Oh, hello Gawain." She managed a sad smile as she remembered her earlier conversation with Lancelot.
He straightened himself and spoke softly, "I was wondering if I could talk to you… when you get a break."
Sarah nodded, "Of course… I'll meet you at a table as soon as I can."
Gawain grinned appreciatively, "Alright… I'll see you soon." He left to find a seat. She watched as he chose the one in the corner, the same one she had sat at with Amon. It provided the most privacy.
She finished up with the few remaining cups and dried her hands. She then proceeded to pour two mugs of ale, picking them up and carrying them as she made her way to the waiting knight. His arms rested on the tabletop and his head was bowed. Sarah set the drinks down, he looked up as one was placed in front of him, and she took her place in the empty seat.
"Thank you," he held up the beverage and took a gulp. He remained silent, Sarah watched him closely from across the table, as he continued to sip.
"You wanted to talk to me?" she gently reminded him.
He nodded, looking down at the ale, "Actually, I wanted to apologize…" He felt her shift uncomfortably, but spoke before she could respond, "I'm sorry for treating you badly earlier… You were right, I was rude, and it was uncalled for."
Sarah shook her head to herself, "It's alright, Gawain… Lancelot explained some things to me after you left."
"I see… He told you about Gareth?" He asked quietly, and it seemed that he had flinched when he spoke the name.
"Yes," she answered solemnly, "I was very sad to hear what had happened to him."
"Galahad has never mentioned him?"
"No." She shook her head and took a much needed drink, though she never cared for bitter taste of ale.
"Hmm… I worry about him sometimes," Gawain's brows rose for an instant but quickly fell, "He can't even talk about him." He leaned forward to Sarah and she mimicked his movements, "It's strange, I get so angry when I think about what happened to Gareth… Galahad, he gets… sad. Although, I don't think that word does the emotion justice… How is he doing?"
"He's still not feeling well," Sarah's lips turned down, "I wonder if he even knows what today is."
"I hope not." Gawain reclined back.
"You don't want him to remember?" she asked.
He shrugged a shoulder, "It's probably for the best if he doesn't."
"Well, I don't think he'd be happy if he forgot his fallen friend," Sarah muttered, suddenly concerned about the man she loved.
"He wouldn't be happy if he remembered," Gawain countered and she sighed. They sat in silence, both thinking to themselves and losing track of time. A loud crash broke through their deep concentration, bringing them back to reality.
"I guess you should get back," Gawain motioned to the bar with a nod of his golden head.
Sarah groaned, "I suppose you're right. Here," she slid her still full mug to him, "you can have the rest."
"Thanks… and thank you for talking with me," he smiled up to the now standing woman. She managed to return a tiny smile before she went back to her duties.
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. I also hope that this cleared up any worries about Sarah and Amon… Thanks to those who reviewed! Oh, I'm planning on changing into first person for just the next chapter, it will be in Galahad's point of view. Just wondered if that would bother anyone? I hope not, because I'm really looking forward to writing it! Thanks again for reading! Now I'm off to start Chapter Eleven: Galahad's Dream…