Chapter 9: I Find it Hard
The woman leapt up and took a few steps back.
"Please, don't!" Lancelot begged. The woman paused, but seemed as though she would spring at any moment away from him. "It is…it is you, isn't it?" The woman muttered under her breath in her own tongue, but Lancelot managed to understand her.
"Stupid, that was so stupid…why did I do that?" As the two stood facing each other, Lancelot took the time to look at her properly, as his eyesight finally adjusted and cleared completely.
"You've grown up," he smiled at her. "You're more beautiful than ever, if that's possible." Iseult shook her head and frowned, though Lancelot thought he saw a flicker of a smile cross her lips."
"Ever the flatterer, Lancelot. Sit down, you're not strong enough to be standing so soon. You've been ill for weeks and straining yourself with any activity could set back your recovery by-"
"By the Gods, woman, I don't give a jot about my health," Lancelot cut in, and started to walk over to her. Iseult shot back nearer the door.
"I would advise not coming any nearer, Lancelot. My people do not know who you are, or of your connection to me, only that we were both at the fort 6 years ago. To touch me would…it would be ill-advised. I will call the woman back in to tend to you. This hut will be yours until you are recovered, then you will be sent on your way." She turned and moved the curtain covering the door aside. "Goodbye, Lancelot," she said, without emotion, and left the hut, the curtain swinging back in place.
"No!" Lancelot cried, rushing forward, but collapsing on the floor. His legs were weak from not moving for weeks. An older woman ran in with an old man who Lancelot vaguely remembered as Ion. As the woman easily lifted Lancelot back onto the bed, he called out again in the common tongue, so he would at least make some impact.
"Iseult, you can't do this to me again. I kept my promise to you, I never tried to find you . I can't let you walk out on me again. Iseult, what about-"
"Enough!" Ion cried, and with that word Lancelot felt himself falling into a peaceful sleep that he couldn't fight against.
Iseult stood outside the door of the hut as Ion and the woman rushed in and listened to Lancelot's words. She felt herself stiffen, not wanting any emotion to show through to her people, who were gathering near the hut, intrigued by this newcomer. She looked into the eyes of her brother, and he understood in the short moment that their eyes were locked what she was feeling. She pushed away from the wall and walked over to him. As she did so, she glanced at all the worried faces.
"The sickness has not left him yet," she told them in as clear a voice as she could manage. Everyone smiled or nodded in understanding, a little disappointed that they could not see the newcomer yet. Iseult reached her brother and his wife.
"You shouldn't have gone in there," Gwillam told her. Iseult glared at him and saw out of the corner of her eye his wife Ciarda shrink back a little, shooting a wary look at her husband.
"I did what I though was right, Gwill, I'd prefer it if you didn't criticise me. I have enough to deal with as it is without him around." She indicated back to the hut. A shout caused her to turn around and smile as through the crowds ran a young boy with a short wooden sword and thick, curly, dark brown hair and ice-blue eyes that were becoming a family trait. Iseult laughed as she picked up her son and brushed the hair from his eyes.
"Mama, Huw said that the great warrior has woken. Can I see him? Please?" Iseult's face fell.
"I'm sorry, my darling, he's still ill. Ion has put him back to sleep."
"But mama!"
"No 'buts'! You can see him when he's fit and well. You wouldn't want to see a great warrior like that lying on his back would you? And neither would he. Now go and practise with your sword so you can show him how good you are." She placed him back on the ground and watched briefly as Taron ran off with his friends to rejoin his teacher and continue practising with renewed vigour. She turned back to her brother to see a concerned look on his face.
"Are you really going to let him see the knight?" he asked his sister. She sighed.
"Of course not, but I'm not going to tell him that, am I? It would break his heart. But Lancelot cannot see him. It would ruin everything, and I will not let that happen," she told him in Latin so only she and her brother could understand. With that she turned and walked off, elegantly flowing over the damp grass and towering above the rest of her people. But only Gwillam seemed to notice the great weight that was now over her, and made her stoop a little more.
really short, I know…Sorry! Now, help would be much appreciated as to where this should now go… I know I need to 'draw it out' a lot more. Thank-you!