Lessa pulled her hood up over her head as she and Galahad made their way to the stables early the next day, slipping in between buildings and around corners. Most of the Roman soldiers were busy with her father's caravan. A few had stopped by Arthur's rooms that morning to carry out some of her trunks. She wasn't sure how long it would take before they discovered she wasn't there, but she trusted Arthur's plan.
She spoke with him briefly before they left for the stables, wanting to try again to convince him not to stay, but instead he had cut her off, quickly explaining his plan for her escape. Her father would think that she was in one of the wagons but instead it would be one of the village women who was similar to Lessa's build. He had told Marcus the night before that Lessa was beside herself with despair at being separated from Arthur and hadn't stopped crying. She had taken to silence in her grief at possibly losing him.
Both hoped this explanation would suffice for why the fake Lessa would stay hidden and not speak. Knowing Marcus, at the first mention of tears, he'd likely not bother her for at least the first few days in order to avoid the annoyance of a weepy Lessa. Arthur said he had compensated the woman well for her part in the scheme.
But now it was time to pray that it worked.
Galahad quickly saddled the horses while Lessa worked just as quickly to fill their bags with the necessities. They had little money, but they couldn't afford to take too much with them otherwise it would slow them down if they should need to run ahead of the knights' caravan. She had packed some things and given them to Vanora to load into her wagon, but it still wasn't much and space was limited and time was of the utmost importance with the Saxon's breathing down their necks. New dresses and such would have to wait. She spared a brief thought for the many dresses she was leaving behind in trunks in Galahad's rooms. She hoped the Saxons didn't burn them.
They mounted and watched from the stables. The fake Lessa, her face covered in a hood and veil, was led from the barracks by a few soldiers and helped into a wagon. The Roman caravan then started out of the gate. It was a long procession, but at least the knights and the rest of the villagers waited until a decent amount of time had passed before they started on their own way. Galahad and Lessa rode up to it, intending to ride part of the way with them until they needed to run.
They rode out in silence with Lessa keeping close to the wagon where Vanora and her children were. She kept her hood up to cover her face. Once they were a ways away, Lessa looked back, seeing Arthur along on top a hill, wearing his full armor. Her heart clenched. Sometime in the night, she had come to understand why he stayed. It was a part of him that called out. The Briton in him. She felt part of it call to her as well. But more than that, she was called to stay by Galahad's side. He was her home now.
She then glanced back at Galahad and the rest of the knights. They were all staring at Arthur as well. Lessa's eyes widened as she saw the same look come into each of their eyes.
Galahad turned and met her gaze as a tear slipped out and down her cheek. He looked back at the others and nodded silently as they started to pull their horses over to the wagon containing their armor and weapons, motioning for the driver to stop.
She rode over and hopped off her horse behind Galahad, grabbing his arm.
"Lessa, please don't," he begged.
"I'm staying," she declared. His eyes widened.
"No, you'll be killed," he said bluntly.
"I won't fight. I'll stay away from the battle. But I'm staying. You'll need me. People will get hurt and I can heal," she said quickly. Galahad gripped her arms.
"No. You must keep going and get to safety. If we lose… I don't want to think about what the Saxons will do to you," he said.
"I don't care. I'm your wife now. I go where you go. And if you stay, I stay. Not to mention, my mother was of this land. This is more my fight than yours," she said defiantly. Galahad studied her a moment and then sighed. He looked around.
"Stay far enough away. If it… if it appears that we are losing, I want you to get on your horse and ride as fast as you can to catch up to the caravan and do not look back," he said. Lessa nodded.
"I'm staying too," Vanora said, walking up behind Lessa.
"Like hell you are, woman!" Bors roared. "Someone has to raise our bastards!"
"Well, make sure you don't get yourself killed and we'll raise them together!" Vanora shouted back at him, her hands on her hips. Lessa looked at the redheaded woman in awe. "Lessa will need help and you'll need me to patch you up afterwards." Bors rolled his eyes and set back to getting his armor on.
"Gonna be the death of me," he muttered. Galahad quickly kissed Lessa as her hood fell from her face.
"Quickly. Get somewhere safe," he said. Lessa nodded and turned back to her horse, happy that one of the things she thought to pack was her healing kit. She and Vanora hopped on her horse and rode off, looking for a safe place to wait. She glanced back at the men, her heart clenched in fear as she saw Galahad watching them.
"They will survive," Lessa said to herself.
"What are you doing here?" a voice said angrily. Lessa looked around frantically as she stopped and Vanora bumped into her. They were leading the horse through the woods near the battleground.
She stopped when she saw Guinevere in her Woad battle paint step out from behind a tree.
"We're just looking for somewhere safe until the battle is over," Lessa said, scowling at the women.
"This is no place for you," Guinevere retorted. "Unless you've learned to use a blade overnight."
"So I may not be handy with a bow or a blade, but I can heal," Lessa said. "Unless you are immortal or impervious to wounds, you will need me."
"We don't have time to fight and look out for you," Guinevere said.
"By all means, point us in the best direction to go and we'll stay out of your hair," Lessa said sarcastically.
"Lessa," Vanora said softly behind her. Lessa and Guinevere sized each other up in silence.
"This is not your fight, Roman," Guinevere said. Lessa straightened her back.
"Not my fight? My husband - who is Sarmatian - is out there helping in this fight. He may die," she said. "Not to mention, my mother was of this land. I have every right to be here."
Guinevere stared at her a moment in shock.
"Your mother was Briton?" she asked.
"Yes, and nearly every day my father tried to beat the Briton out of me but I fought him tooth and nail. I am no more Roman than you are," she spat. It seemed as though Guinevere was seeing the young woman in a new light. She whistled and two other women appeared from trees.
"Take these two to the camp. They are healers," she said. Lessa nodded to her.
"Thank you," she said. Guinevere nodded before turning and running off.
It seemed like they had been waiting hours. Lessa and Vanora were seated on a log near a fire with the horse grazing nearby. They could hear the shouts from where they assumed the fighting at started. At first Lessa spent her time readying bandages and various concoctions that she may need. With the fighting underway, it wouldn't be long until they started bringing the wounded in.
She stood and looked through the trees, her brow furrowed, as she heard more shouts and the clang of steel against steel.
"Lessa, they will come back to us," Vanora said, standing and placing a hand on her arm.
"I know. I just hope it's not dead," she replied.
"Stop thinking like that," Vanora said. Lessa shook her head and looked over at her friend.
"I'm sorry. You're right. They will be fine," she said, smiling tensely.
"Just think, when this is done… we may not need to leave," Vanora said. "If they defeat the Saxons and with the Romans gone… this land, it could be our home now." Lessa nodded and looked at the various Woad healers around them in the small makeshift camp.
"I often wonder… how things would have been had my mother not died," she said.
"Do you think that maybe you might have some family here somewhere?" Vanora asked. Lessa shrugged and sighed.
"Perhaps? Father never really spoke of her," Lessa said.
"You there! Roman!" one of the women said, walking up. Lessa frowned at her.
"My name is Lessa," she said. "I'd prefer that to Roman."
"Lessa?" the woman responded, confused by the name.
"Alessandra. But I hate the name my father gave me, so I choose to go by Lessa," she replied. "Only my father is Roman. He was captain of the Roman guard at the Wall." The woman studied her a moment, a curious look coming over her face.
"What was your mother's name?" she asked softly, losing some of her harsh edge.
"Aife. She died shortly after I was born… I don't remember her," Lessa said.
"And why is it you stayed when all the others left for safety?" the woman asked. "How did you escape the Roman caravan? Surely no Roman captain would allow his daughter to do such a thing."
"He thinks I'm on the caravan to Rome. I was going to Sarmatia with the knights until… they decided to stay. So I stayed to help," she said. "It's… it's the right thing to do."
"You are very brave, daughter of Aife," the woman said solemnly. "I can sense your mother's spirit in you." Lessa's eyes widened as she stepped towards the woman, her body tingling.
"You knew my mother?" she asked. The woman smiled sadly and shook her head.
"I did not, but I have heard the name. All Woad women are strong and pass that strength to their daughters. You are no Roman, Lessa. You are Briton," she said. Lessa smiled. "I am Luan."
Suddenly there was a shout as two men covered in blood crashed into their encampment, carrying another. Lessa gulped as she took in the various blade wounds over the man's body. They were Woad. She then straightened her back and walked over, determined to get to work.
As more and more wounded were carried to the camp, Lessa nearly didn't have time to spare a thought for her knight, though she sent a silent pray of thanks every time she came to a new person and it was a face she did not recognize.
She wouldn't allow herself to think of the other possibility that they were lying dead somewhere in the field.
Suddenly a shout rose and a man crashed into the encampment, out of breath.
"It is finished. The Saxon army has been defeated!" he yelled. Shouts of triumph broke out as Lessa took off at a run for the battlefield. She had to find Galahad.
"Lessa! Wait!" she heard faintly from behind her, assuming it was Vanora. Lessa did not stop, instead increasing the speed with which she bounded through the trees. Finally she came to the edge of the field and stopped, looking around. There was smoke everywhere. And bodies littered the ground. So many bodies.
She looked around frantically, searching for any sign of the knights. Her eyes then fell on Arthur, kneeling on the ground. Behind him stood Galahad, Bors and Gawain. Lessa's heart soared as she sprinted across the field towards her knight.
"Galahad!" she shouted. He turned and saw her, his battle-weary face breaking out into a grin.
Lessa launched herself into his arms as her tears mixed with the dirt and blood on his armor. Her own clothing was covered in the blood of the many wounded she had tended.
"Thank god," she whispered as she kissed his face. "I would have never forgiven you if you did not survive."
"You're sounding more like Vanora," he said with a soft chuckle.
"Is it really over?" she asked. He nodded, though a pain expression came over his face. He didn't speak, but instead looked to the ground. Lessa followed his gaze and gasped when she saw the two bodies. Even more tears filled her eyes.
"No… not Lancelot and Tristan," she murmured. Memories of the two flew through her mind. Lancelot making inappropriate jokes. Tristan silent, but always smiling warmly at her. Coming after her whenever she would escape into the woods. Galahad pulled her back to him, rubbing her back as she began sobbing into his chest.
She knew growing up that death was always part of the bargain when it came to the knights. But it still didn't make it any easier when they did lose them. She still cried whenever they came home wrapped in their cloaks. And then again when they were buried on the hill overlooking the village.
But this was more heartbreaking. They had just gained their freedom and instead of choosing to go off and live, they had stayed to protect this land and the Britons. Lessa sniffled as she could almost hear Lancelot in her mind, making some quip about her running off. She even missed Tristan shooting arrows at her to get her down from a tree. Just hours ago, weren't they all there witnessing her wedding to Galahad? Her heart almost could not bear the pain.
"My knights, I have failed you," Arthur said. "I did not take you off this island and I did not give you freedom."
He looked around them and then up, meeting Lessa's eyes as she looked down at him, tears still streaming down her face. She then looked over and notice Guinevere on the ground across from him, staring at Lancelot. She reached out and gently closed his eyes, seeming to barely control her own tears for a moment. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up, meeting Lessa's gaze. Suddenly, she straightened her back and blinked, appearing in control, though barely.
Lessa took a deep breath, attempting to stop her tears. She looked around at the group of solemn faces.
"You're injured," she said finally. "We should, we should get you looked after. Vanora'll want to know that you're safe, Bors."
He grunted his acknowledgement, his eyes still on the bodies.
"We should take them with us," Gawain said. "We can't leave them here."
"Let's go back into the village. I have more supplies at the barracks. We can send for Vanora and… they can start taking the injured there," Lessa said, starting towards the gates and leading Galahad with her, gripping his hand. The remaining four picked up Lancelot and Tristan, following them silently.
Once they were back in the barracks and Lancelot and Tristan had been laid in a room awaiting burial, Lessa forced Galahad to sit in the council room as she started to look over him.
"I'm fine, Lessa. There are others who are worse off," he said, glancing around at the injured that were being led in. Lessa turned his head and studied a cut across his cheek.
"No. You need me right now," she said as she furrowed her brow and set to work getting his armor off.
"Lessa," he started. Lessa stopped and took his face in her hands.
"There are other healers," she said. "Right now, I want to tend to my husband." He smiled briefly and quietly let her continue. Once his armor was off, she reached for a cloth and dipped it in a bowl of water and started to clean his face.
"I like to hear you call me that," he said, looking up at her. "Your husband." Lessa laughed softly.
"It's what you are," she replied. "Best get used to it." They were both silent a few moments before Lessa stopped and put her hands down. "What comes next? For us?" Galahad sighed.
"Well… we can go to Sarmatia. Or… they want to make Arthur king," he said. Lessa's eyes widened. She looked around the room, finding Arthur in a corner, quietly conferring with the Woad leader, Merlin.
"King?" she asked, still looking across the room. Galahad nodded.
"We could… we could stay here. Make our life here. With Arthur as king," he said. Lessa looked down at him. "I know you wanted to leave, but… I think that it could be a good life. Arthur will be a good leader."
Lessa smiled and bent down, kissing him.
"Galahad, you are my home. Wherever you are, as long as we are together, we will have a good life," she said. Galahad grinned and pulled her down into his lap, causing her to laugh. It was the first small moment of brightness they had had all day. "Besides, now I can keep all my dresses."
"Really? All of this, and you're talking about dresses?" he said, staring down at her. Lessa shrugged.
"They did take an awfully long time to make, Galahad," she said. He chuckled and kissed her again.
"I love you, Lessa."
"I love you, too, my knight."