Part X. Dare You to Move

I dare you to move
I dare you to lift
yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before
-Switchfoot

The next morning, as Lancelot was splashing his face with water from the bowl near the window, he was struck dumb from what he was seeing. He almost couldn't believe it. There, a horde of young children, were being marched to the port. Some were walking; some were on horses, some two to a horse. Behind and in front of them were Roman soldiers. He hurriedly got himself together and rushed out of the inn. The other men were already out there, observing the trail.

"Shit," muttered Gul. "Look at 'em."

"That was us over a decade ago," added Behram.

The boys turned their heads to the crowd of people watching them; some of the townspeople had already lost interest and were going about their morning chores. The new band of Sarmatians, heading to their fifteen years of servitude, looked like they were being marched to the gallows. And, in a way, they were.

Lancelot's throat constricted in a painful knot.

"I can't watch," Gul said.

Behram followed him to the tavern for breakfast.

Lancelot's feet had him trailing after the young men of Sarmatians. At the port, they dismounted and the horses were led onto the large ship. The boys and young men stood about, guarded by Romans. They had few belongings, and some forwent their dignity and let tears fall. Some of the older boys comforted the younger.

"No talking!" snapped a Roman.

Lancelot felt someone join him. He turned to see Ardeth watching the event solemnly. He stood erect, hands behind his back, eyes slitted from the light of the sun that shone upon them. But to Lancelot, it was a dark day. Watching this, anger simmered in the pit of his stomach. He clenched his teeth when a Roman slapped a boy upside the head. His hand went to the dagger belted to his waist.

When all the horses were aboard, the boys were led up the plank onto ship. To the bleakness below the deck where there would be perhaps two or three to a cot. Some days it would be steaming hot, and at night blistering cold. Soft cries would be muffled in pillows. Or sometimes there would be a deafening silence. The very unlucky ones would be awoken in the night by a soldier...taken...violated.

Then, one of them screamed. A young man tried to calm the child, but it was no use.

"No! No! I won't go!" yelled the boy. He struggled from his friend, who was trying to hold him back, but his small body broke from his grasp and he began to retreat down the plank, pushing aside the other boys.

"Stop that boy!" commanded a guard.

The young Sarmatian boy did not get far. He was seized by a hulk of a soldier and was immediately met with a blowing punch to his face. The friend broke through the ranks and tried to help the boy. But, he too, was apprehended. No one else helped. From the corner of his obsidian eyes, Ardeth watched Lancelot's growing angst, and he did not stop him when the Sarmatian charged forward towards the fight.

Lancelot saw red. The Roman did not see him before it was too late. The Sarmatian grabbed him from behind, spun him around and rammed his fist straight into his nose. The man cried out, and two Roman soldiers jumped in. Lancelot fought them off, spurred by his rage.

"Ardeth?" Inara had come to him.

"You should go back," Ardeth said.

"But..." Inara was watching with growing unease. "What is happening?"

"Ardeth?" Aisha ran up to him. "He needs help!" she exclaimed.

Ardeth held her back when he gathered she was going to join the fray. "Stay back." And with predatorily ease, the Egyptian went to Lancelot's aid. He had not instantly because he knew that this was truly Lancelot's fight. He was not blind; he had observed the Sarmatian grappling with many emotions the past few days.

The Egyptian put his large hand on the back of a Roman's neck and squeezed tightly with little to no effort. The man cried out in agony and was brought to his knees. Ardeth's presence brought the fighting to a slow halt. Lancelot had a bloody nose and his eye was swelling, but he fared better than the three soldiers who had been attacking him.

Inara squeezed through and went to the young boy who had been punched. "Let me see, dear," she said. And the boy, who couldn't be older than twelve, was comforted by her motherly ministrations. It broke her heart to see such abuse, but when this ship began to sail, there would be no one to help these grieving boys.

"He attacked a Roman soldier," a man was saying.

"He is a Roman citizen," Ardeth replied calmly, his dark eyes ice cold. "Such abuse on one so young is uncalled for."

The Roman was quite at a loss for words, even as he tried to stop the blood from flowing out of his nose.

Lancelot stood beside Ardeth, still seething. A soft touch made him flinch, Aisha had touched his hand. And he could hardly bear the tender look in her eyes.

"We need to sail now," another Roman said. "Get those boys on the ship."

The little boy had more tears falling and was holding to Inara's skirts. She was crooning to him. "It will be all right. Stay next to your brother, here."

"I don't want to go," he said.

She kissed him on the forehead and wiped away his tears. She shot the Roman soldier a deadly look, daring him to say something – anything. "You should be ashamed of yourself," she told him.

The Roman's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Inara got the young boy to let go of her skirts and with a hung head he walked up the plank with his brother. He turned back and gave the Egyptian woman a wave. She blew him a kiss like a mother would have done.

Ardeth beckoned her and she went to his arms. A veil of tears was building in her eyes. "It is wrong, Ardeth," she said.

"I know," he replied.

"Lancelot!" Aisha called.

The other two looked to see Lancelot stalking off. He went to the stables and saddled his horse, riding out of the town to anywhere. He would have killed those soldiers were it not for Ardeth's intervention. He had been momentarily ashamed of his behavior, to have Aisha see him act a barbarian. But there had been no rebuke in her eyes, only compassion. Had there been admonition it would have made it easier for him to remain behind.

He rode and rode, pushing his horse faster into the land. When both he and horse were tired, they stopped by a stream. Lancelot collapsed on his knees to the ground. He pounded the earth with his fists, he screamed aloud, rushing to his feet and began pounding against a tree, splitting his skin until his hands bled. Hot tears built behind his eyelids, but he did not let them fall.

Would it be like this – if he stayed? No matter what village he were to occupy, year after year more Romans would come and take the children. He would see them crying, their spirits already hardening before their horses took their first steps. Mothers weeping as fathers held them, trying to comfort as their own hearts broke. If he had children, boys, it would be the same. Oh, he could try to hide them, but that was no way to live. Could he let his sons go off to such a fealty life as he had done? Too much for one man's soul.

He slipped his carved dragon off of his neck, grasping it tightly in his aching hand.

"Lancelot?"

His head snapped around to see Aisha dismounting from her horse.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" he asked.

She was silent for a moment. "I hurried and followed you."

He nodded, must have been too caught up in running away to sense someone behind him.

"I was worried about you," she said. Aisha tentatively approached and crouched near him. "Oh, my love," she whispered, seeing his bloodied hands. She was not even aware of those two words she had uttered with such deep affection. Her soft lips kissed both of his hands.

"My love," he said, his voice husky with emotion.

"Yes, my love," she repeated.

"I love you, my sweet. I cannot be separated from you." He raised his head and looked deep into her eyes. "I cannot have a life here and see these things year after year. I will go mad. There is nothing for me here."

Aisha caressed his cheek. He was not aware tears had slipped from his eyes. Emotions thawed by his burning heart.

"You can come with me," she said softly.

"I would go anywhere with you. If you would have me."

Aisha brought her lips to his and he cupped her head in his hands and kissed her back fiercely, not wanting to let go. He inhaled her sweetness and her love. His tongue broke past her lips and they danced that lover's dance that only lovers can do.

TBC....