Well, if there's anyone left out there still wanting to read this, I thank you!! It has been an unforgivable length of time since I've updated, but I did promise I would finish this tale and I have! I shall not bore you with excuses for it taking me so long (there are many – and some of them good ones too! lol) but I will take this opportunity to say thank you to Goddess who kept on my back to finish! Thank you, Goddess!
And a HUGE 'thank you' of course to everyone for all your support and kindness...and patience!!
Now I am done, I have a lot of catching up to do around here! See you all, soon!
Final Chapter
The convoy began its journey south and silence filled the air that surrounded the Baden Hill fortress. A heavy, almost suffocating silence, that was disturbed only by the lone tears of a frightened child which echoed mournfully above the creaking of slow and heavy cart wheels.
Trundling along that same road upon their small rickety laundry cart sat Juna and her mother. Behind them, a scattering of pots and pans rattled and clanked amongst a small bundle of clothes and the few old furs which the women had hastily thrown in the previous evening before hurrying to the fort. But for the crudely fashioned table and two log stools which had been left behind, it was all they had to show for a lifetime.
Every once in a while the mother would purse her lips against the ache in her back as the cart bounced and bruised along. She had spent a long and uncomfortable night curled up on the back of that cart and even wrapped up as tightly as she was in the furs, the cold had still manage to bite leaving her feeling stiff and in pain. But she made no complaint of it. How could she in the light of the terror that loomed so dangerously close? She cared only for the relief she felt as every turn of the wheels took them just that little further away.
There were no such blossoming feelings of relief for Juna however, as she threw another tentative glance over her shoulder at Tristan who rode alongside the fleet some way behind. His eyes did not look her way this time, as they had on every occasion before, but instead up high, across the hill. Juna followed his gaze and there she saw Arthur- Draco standard held high and roaring in the cold east wind - sat proud upon his armoured warhorse, silhouetted and magnificent against the splendid winter sun. The sight of it sent a fearful shiver through her soul.
Tristan and Juna had not spoken but a few words to one another since they had risen that morning. She had instantly sensed the conflict within him, could see the uneasy shadow that dulled the sparkle of his eyes and she had felt such pain.
They had dressed quietly, Tristan bending down upon his knees to help her tremulous fingers tie the laces of her sandals - just as he had done that day, when he had first made her his own. He had looked up and gently smiled at her through his untidy locks and Juna had felt her heart break. Turning her eyes from his quickly, she had dared not speak - afraid that in return she may hear the words she feared most. And Tristan, who could hear her every thought, had remained silent - afraid of having to speak them. Instead he had reached up and kissed her softly, then taking her by the hand, lead her out into the crowded court yard and into the care of her waiting mother.
Juna turned her eyes ahead once more, the colour vanishing from her cheeks. He was going to stay and fight. She had known it all along. Her hands began to tremble and her eyes sting with tears as she desperately searched her soul for what to do. Just like a frightened child who closes their eyes in fear of the imaginary monster, thinking themselves then safe from its grasp, she sat rigid in her seat and dared not look back again. For if she did, he would catch her eye and say his goodbye and that she could not allow. Surely, he would not be able to leave her without his bidding her farewell?
As the tears began to fall, Juna felt the warmth of her mother's reassuring fingers slip into her own, giving her strength and hope as only a mother can.
Juna laid her head on her mother's shoulder and closed her eyes, grateful for the small comfort it gave her and they continued along this way awhile without a word spoken between them.
It was then the sorrowful pitch of a hawk cried out as if only to her, wailing her fears and lamenting their shared loss. The sound of her cry pierced through Juna's being like a shard of bitter ice and promptly grabbing the reins from her mother's hands, she drove the cart out from the convoy and reined the oxen in.
Turning around swiftly in her seat, she looked back and saw that he was gone.
oooooooooooooooooooo
A sudden thunder of Saxon drums rumbled through the air, their rapacious rhythm stirring the hunger in the hearts of the Sarmatian warhorses which began to snort and trample their hooves as the smell of battle reeked through their nostrils.
Steadying their mounts, each knight threw a look to his brother - both asking the question and knowing the answer of each with just a smile and a nod. It was agreed then. Today, as free born men, they would all stand by Arthur's side and fight.
Tristan looked to the convoy as it moved on and prayed that she would not look back again. One plea from her not to fight this day and he feared he would not be able to deny her, when he knew in his heart that he must. But with both relief and regret he saw she was now lost from his sight.
Tristan took a long deep breath and with unnerving swiftness locked her away deep within the caverns of his heart. There could be no distractions for him from now on. She would be safe now and he must not think of her again until this battle was done. But now, he must say his farewell to another whom he loved.
Bringing his gauntleted hand up close, Tristan caressed the feathery breast of his hawk with his long slender finger tips.
"Go now" he urged affectionately, to his faithful companion "You are free"
Lifting his arm up high, the bird took flight almost instantly and Tristan watched as she soared up high and disappeared with cries of salutation, within the clouds above.
A short distance away, Lancelot had ridden over had halted the armoury wagon and one by one, each knight dismounted and began his preparations for battle.
With expert speed and efficiency, Tristan primed his chosen weapons and fixed on his armour, just as he had done countless times before. He practiced well, to empty his mind of all sentiment as he concentrated on his task, quickly becoming the cold and ruthless warrior he must. But as Tristan buckled his chest plate, he could not help but throw his look one last time, towards the retreating wagons that now left nothing but a dust cloud in their wake.
He felt his heart thump with life once more and his eyes slowly narrowed, as in the distance he caught a glimpse of a solitary figure, silhouetted within the dusty gloom as it made its way running towards him.
For a moment, he just stared as the cloud began to settle and there she was. He didn't need to see her pain; he could feel her agony matching his own wound for wound.
He hadn't wanted this. Whichever path he chose today; it would be his betrayal of someone and watching her drive away had somehow relinquished him from having to choose who that someone was to be. How could he have been such a coward to have thought to have ridden from her without even a word? He felt a disdainful chuckle in his throat; he should have known she would not let him free so easily.
He breathed deeply and then slowly made his way to meet her.
They both stopped within a whisker of touching one another. Juna breathless and heaving from her flight and Tristan silent and stoical faced.
"So…" she gasped fearfully "You shall leave me after all?"
The knight remained silent. Not one flicker of sentiment betrayed him as he glanced away for a moment, desperate to hold on to his need for detachment. Holding his feelings safely in check, he then looked back to meet her grief stricken eyes once more.
"I must" he answered, his voice was lifeless and cold but inside he burned.
"You are determined?" Juna persisted as she fought back the torturous misery that seemed to strangle her every word.
"I am"
"And nothing I say will keep you by my side?"
Tristan could find no reply and gave her only a singular shake of his head. He knew if she begged him not to follow Arthur, but instead ride on with her, he would be powerless but to relent. How could he deny her when all he wanted was an end to his life of loneliness and violence? But how could he end that life, if he did not make a stand this day? And if he did not, how would he live with himself, knowing he had deserted his brothers when they had needed each other most? Everything he had ever wanted stood before him now, but he knew there would be no freedom for he and Juna. No peaceful, happy future, without one more sacrifice.
"You have made you're choice then and it is by Arthur's side you choose to ride, not my own?' the accusation lay thick on her tone
"I choose freedom, Juna!" Tristan barked angrily, a sudden passion rising in his voice, unable to control himself any longer.
"You choose death!" she hissed back.
Tristan ground his jaw painfully against the agony of her words and grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her close.
"If I turn away from him now, we can never be free, you must understand that!"
Juna let out a sob, her momentary anger washing clean away with her tears.
"But I can not exist without you, my Lord" she whispered imploringly, her voice barely audible above the sound of her breaking heart.
The look of love she so desperately needed suddenly swept across his cold and angry face and he reached up and swept the tears from her cheeks.
"Do not send me into battle with nought but the memory of your tears woman!" he growled and then denying himself no longer, pulled her fiercely into his arms and kissed her long and hard. Juna surrendered into his rough and passionate embrace, savouring every painful kiss as if it were her last.
Setting her down as swiftly as he had gathered her up, all the time fighting to imprison the burning passion within him once again, he held her stricken face next to his and breathed,
"Go now and don't look back! For I shall return, my Lady… and I will find you"
Pushing her gently but firmly from his grasp, he turned and strode away.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Cerdic bent down low and cocked his head to one side as he carefully studied his next victim. His cruel, yellow whiskered face wore a bemused smile as he wondered just what in Woden's name kept this man before him crawling back to his feet. This little tryst had proved interesting if nothing else, he believed he could have finished him whenever he'd wanted but it amused the Saxon to watch his struggle for life. There was a stubborn determination, a refusal to give in to death that he had witnessed so rarely and he found he almost admired. Maybe this Arthur wouldn't be the only man worth killing today.
Tristan panted and wheezed as he once more struggled to his knees. He was exhausted; the Saxon was just too strong. He had judged him ill and was now paying the price. He was loosing blood swiftly now but the only pain he felt was that of his suffering heart. He could taste his own death, but the only thing he feared was the thought he would never again hold his lover in his arms.
With that last foray, he had been disarmed and his long and slender scimitar blade now lay at the feet his enemy. Instinctively he reached for one of a number of small knives secured within his breastplate. But he hesitated when the Saxon leisurely kicked his lost sword toward him, still with the sickly smile fixed on his lips.
Tristan knew he was toying with him, prolonging the kill for his own twisted pleasure, but to die without a sword in his hand was to die without honour and there could be no worse a fate for a knight such as he. This Saxon dog was offering him a hero's exit from this world, what fool would refuse it?
Tristan slowly lowered his hand and began to reach for the blade at his feet, his fingers drenched with his own blood and trembling with fatigue.
'So this was death,' he thought as he prepared himself for his end.
But then a moment's hesitation as the thoughts of the woman whom he loved and had left waiting for him, suddenly blinded his path and he knew he could not end it this way.
He drew in his breath and with all the force he could muster he roared.
"To Hell with honour!" As he snatched the knife from his breastplate and let it fly, straight into the middle of the Saxon's throat with a sickening thud.
ooooooooooooooooooo
EPILOGUE
The crescendo of screams echoed through the rooms and corridors of the east wing.
"Be calm child, for pity's sakes…you must be calm!"
Juna's white knuckled fingers contorted with pain as she clasped desperately at her mother's slender wrists. As the pain subsided she let out another barrage of tears as she sobbed her absent lover's name.
"Tristan!" she wailed as another wave of agony engulfed her body. Hot sweat trickled down her thighs and body which was drenched with perspiration.
"Push Juna,….!!!" willed her mother, anxiously.
"I cant...I can't…." she sobbed, the strength seeping from her body. All through the night she had laboured, struggling to free the child. But fatigue was fast enveloping her now and her mother knew she must not give up.
"Yes you can girl!!….now PUSH damn you!!" roared her mother.
Juna screamed out Tristan's name once more, just as the door crashed open and in he strode, his usual wild and formidable gait forever tainted by the souvenir hobble, given to him so graciously in that last battle.
Having been banished from the birthing bed as all men were, he could no longer bare to hear her agonising calls and do nothing.
"This is no place for men!" shouted the mother, appalled at his intrusion.
"Hold your tongue woman" he snapped, promptly halting her protests as always and swiftly fell to his knees beside his lady, ignoring the pain which seared through his lame leg.
He gathered one hot and sweaty hand in his and laid his other firmly but gently low down beneath the swell of her body. Looking deep into her frightened eyes he smiled and willed her the strength to carry on.
"I can't, Tristan …I can't" she wept. But the scout would have no of it.
"Stop those tears! Look at me!" he demanded. With the power of his voice and the touch of his hand upon her, Juna felt her strength revive and as he felt the next contraction build, he commanded her to fight on.
With every last breath in her body Juna fought to free the child within her. She gasped and panted frantically as the head finally emerged and with one last muster of strength, the babe came forth into its father's arms, kicking and screaming.
Juna fell back and wept with relief and joy and elation filled the room. Tristan held up the tiny little life with wonder and pride and to his utter amazement, found himself choking back tears.
'She's so beautiful' he whispered, his voice husky with love and pride. He looked over at Juna, his eyes glistening and bright. "She's so beautiful!' he whispered again.
The mother came forward quickly "Give her to me; I must cut the cord…"
"I will do it" Tristan answered firmly, refusing to let her go.
Juna's mother huffed her disapproval and thrusting her hands on her hips, she asked him curtly. "Do you have any idea what you're doing, man?"
Tristan paused for a moment and scowled, then reluctantly gave way.
The deed was done quickly and Tristan wasted no time in claiming back the little bundle once more. He gently wrapped his daughter up and knelt back down beside his wife, kissing Juna's exhausted though elated lips as he did so.
"Look at her, Juna…isn't she beautiful?" he whispered once again. Juna chuckled gently.
"I fear I have lost you to another woman, my lord!"
Tristan smiled at her reply but never once took his eyes from the baby in his arms.
After a thoughtful silence, Juna asked quietly. "You are not disappointed…that I have not given you a son?"
Tristan shot her a sideways glance and frowned.
"A son?" he grumbled "why would I want one of those?"
Juna's mother smiled and shook her head in wonder. He was a rare man indeed, annoying to the point of despair, but rare and she knew she could have wanted no better for her daughter than this man that loved her so. Not that she'd ever tell him that, of course!
She slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the new family alone with their happiness. It had been a long, hard night and she had not been without hers fears for Juna, but all seemed well and she knew Tristan would take good care of her now.
Heaving a weary, though contented sigh, she stepped out into the summer dawn. Stopping for a moment, she turned her face to the sky and felt the first drops of rain, sweet and refreshing upon her lips. How she loved to feel the cleansing touch of the summer rain.
'Today will be a good day' she thought and smiled to herself as she walked away.
THE END.
Author's note.
For those of you who love Tristan as I do and have watched that fight with Cerdic so many times, you may recall the moment when Tristan hesitates and goes to draw the knife from his chest plate. No matter how many times I watch it, I always end up crying out for him to 'aim for the middle' and throw the darn thing! But he never listens:(
But I suppose then, there was not much for him to live for, but an honourable and magnificent death….
Thank you for reading!
