Chapter 12- Discovering that Concealed
A snap of a twig made Elayne awake suddenly. A cloudy haze hung over the forest. It was only a few hours till dawn. The moon was tucked behind an idle cloud, the lightening dawn obscuring the shadows of the camp. Elayne blinked away sleep, rubbing her eyes and sighing deeply. Though the sleep was short, it still refreshed her. Sitting up, a thick lump filled her lap. Elayne looked down, Galahad's blanket covering her body. She looked up when the crackle of a dying fire caught her ears. Galahad himself sat down idly by the fire, poking it alive with a stick.
Elayne could hear the snores of Bors, the shrouded hum of Gawain. In the corner of her eye, Elayne uncovered a deserted horse. Tristan was nowhere to be seen. In the distance Elayne heard the shrill call of his hawk, a soft whisper to her ears. An insatiable desire quenched Elayne's fury at the knights from the previous night. Steadily getting to her feet, throwing the blanket over her shoulders, Elayne trudged over to Galahad. The young man gave her an acknowledged nod, not taking his eyes off the small fire. Elayne sat down next to him, her eyes penetrating through him.
"You looked cold," Galahad murmured. Elayne found the pang of jealously hidden beneath his eyes. She nuzzled her rosy cheeks, numb with cold, into the warm blanket.
"Thank you." Galahad shook off the words, his eyes showing they weren't needed. Elayne gnawed on her lip, taking a deep sigh. "I'm sorry about last night," she finally relinquished to utter. Galahad looked over at her with his clear blue eyes. Elayne pursed her lips. "It was just a shock really. The more you said it, the more I began to believe," she said with a pout. Galahad coughed a laugh, wishing not to raise her annoyance with him. His eyes twinkled amongst dark curls.
"I don't think they should have told you," he defended himself.
"I know, it's just…" Elayne felt her eyes hot with tears. "Everything's so jumbled now. I mean, the story could be real and it could be about me but that doesn't make any sense. I-I-" Elayne could barely fight it any longer. Hatred in her grew and she wished to take it back, but it was placed squarely on her father, the man she loved with all her heart, more than any other man she had known. For him to betray her like this was unthinkable.
"I just want to know why he would keep that from me if it were true." Galahad looked at her with a flourishing kindness, one that grew with each moment of being with her.
"Elayne, what do you remember?" he hesitantly asked. Elayne covered her face in her hands, running her fingers through her long golden hair. The whole thing exasperated her.
"I barely remember my mother or my brother. I was always by his side though when we were together. We were constantly together. I also remember a face, a few years older than me. He was always quiet. It was as if he denied anyone from entering his life. He was always on his own…" Elayne tried to divulge deeper. In a blur of blood, screams, broken flesh and scorching fire she let her mind block from the rest. Hot flesh was grinded against hers. "I was twelve when the Saxons attacked my village," she finished with haunted eyes.
Galahad felt the ceaseless intrigue in Elayne grow. He suddenly wanted to know every detail, bury himself within her soul and free her from such memories that terrified her. He wanted to piece together the torn past, help her discover that which was concealed from her. Elayne's eyes blinked back sleep.
"I dreamt of them last night." Her voice was a horrified whisper. Galahad leaned in. "The Romans burst into our door. We had finally built our new home in Saxon grounds, where we could be safe. There was a choked scream, blood and a wailing cry." Elayne's eyes were whisked to another time, another place. "It was my father I think." Her jaw clenched. "I hate Rome, and yet I'm afraid of them." Her eyes flickered to the fire where the Roman soldiers sat.
Galahad tugged the blanket, pulling her to him. Again Elayne felt a knight's face come close to her. But Galahad only shook her from her reverie. She knelt in his arms. Galahad dutifully clung to her as a protector. "Elayne," she looked up, gazing into his eyes. Galahad felt her cling to him, waiting for the next move. He leaned in, the heat from her tears, the touch of her lips…he pulled away slowly, and unable to have his thoughts become actions. "They will not hurt you Elayne, I swear."
Elayne took a deep breath to collect her thoughts, nodding and looking back into the fire. She snuggled into Galahad's arms. Galahad thanked the Gods the rest were asleep. The moment only with Elayne couldn't be wasted with burly men's prattle. Galahad felt her chest rise in a rhythm, her body loosening. For the first time, Galahad held Elayne sleeping in his arms. All the stubbornness and querulous mien precluded from him any greater affection than the two had already established.
A bird chirped loftily, echoed by the loud screech of Tristan's hawk. Elayne squinted her eyes from the brightness of the new day. She rolled over, nudging the abandoned bundle of blankets Galahad had used to sleep on next to her. Galahad had kept his promise. No single Roman dared to threaten Elayne while under the keen eye of Galahad. He crept away when the Romans finally sought for sleep, helping Dagonet and Gawain cook a quick breakfast. The sharp scents of the food were wafting over to Elayne, tickling her nose. Her stomach growled. Elayne heard the filial voice of Lucan. Her hands brushed along the cold snow.
A sharp poke made her eyes snap open. Two Roman soldiers stood over her. Elayne gasped but one man stifled her scream, covering her face with his huge gloved hand. His fingers sank into her flesh like hot iron. Elayne fumbled around for anything to protect her. She couldn't breath, her lungs twisting in pain. In a desperate but futile attempt to get free, Elayne rammed her elbow into the man's gut. A whoosh of air escaped his lips, his hand springing up from Elayne's mouth. She scrambled across the ground.
"Get her!" a Roman man shouted. The man doubled over reached for her, but Elayne was quicker. She searched for her dagger, getting to her feet. She frantically swept her hands over the blankets. Her dagger was missing. The commotion startled the viewing villagers and knights. Dagonet withdrew out his sword in lightning speed. Gawain swung his mace over his head.
"Elayne!" Galahad cried hastily, nocking an arrow to his bow. Elayne turned. The butt of the sword came down on her back. A shocked yelp died on her lips as she collapsed.
"Saxon whore!" the Roman planned to repay his aching groin, unsheathing a knife and placing the edge along her neck. Elayne choked for breath. The knights froze in their steps, a repugnant look bounced from one face to the next. The other Roman pointed his sword at advancing Galahad.
"Move and the bitch gets her throat slit," he threatened. Galahad challenged him back with fiery eyes. With a blur of armor, an arrow protruded from the man's arm. The man yelled in pain, clutching his arm as he backed away, smacking into a tree.
"You will not hurt her," Galahad cried through clenched teeth. He saw Elayne's look of fear, her tight lips white with anxiety. Galahad nocked another arrow, deep down berating himself for his foolishness. Elayne's eyes were broken, just like his promise to her. Gawain lowered his mace, offering to negotiate with a proposition.
"Let her go-"
"Ha! This Saxon wench deserves nothing more than a painful death!" the Roman interrupted. Galahad snarled malevolently.
"You will do no such thing!" he retorted. Elayne felt the knife push harder against her skin. She managed to give a broken choke. Galahad stopped, panic striking his face.
"What in God's name is going on?" An infuriated Arthur came from the trees, flanked closely by an impudent faced Lancelot and a wide-eyed Guinevere. Arthur unsheathed the great blade Excalibur. He pointed the terrifying tip to the Roman who held his own sword in defense, his arm from where Galahad pierced him stinging furiously and pouring crimson down his side. "Let her go or you die," he ordered.
"Anyone who perishes by Saxon hands does so because of her!" the officer accused.
"No!" Elayne screamed, a faint trickle of blood pooling around the knife. The man tugged harder on her hair, pulling both the knife and her skull. Showers of pain shattered her mind. Arthur lowered Excalibur, as did all the knights after him. From the cover of the trees Tristan appeared. His face was stricken. Galahad's eyes tried in a pointless attempt to not grasp the word that lingered deep in his mind. The same word echoed sharply in Tristan's head. Betrayer…
"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked in his peremptory voice. The Roman sneered as he looked down at Elayne. He nodded to his companion, who let her go. She lurched forward. Anger flared in her eyes, she stared with a vast audacity to the soldier.
"Tell them what you know," the Roman spat. Elayne bared her teeth at him.
"Never," she replied in a husky voice full of abhorrent disgust. The Roman grabbed her by the hair, yanking her face to his. Tears gushed from Elayne's eyes.
"Tell them!" he shouted, the command ringing off the trees. He threw Elayne to the ground. When she looked up, all the compassion was wiped from the knights' faces. They all held a baffled look, with a demeanor ready to denunciate. Galahad suffered worst of all. Elayne couldn't meet their eyes. Gawain's interminable kindness, Bors' cockiness was now replaced with a brutish glare. Tristan had lost all of his vigor. His face drained of his levelheaded attitude and marked with dread. Arthur's eyes bore into her like the God himself, all the knights condemned her. Her father, her mother, they all pointed fingers and wept because she shamed them.
Elayne averted her eyes. She was a coward facing the excruciating injustice of truth. She mocked herself for ever believing it could go untouched.
"Please forgive me, but I desperately needed your help. I needed your aid," Elayne faced them all with tears and an adamant determination. " I had hoped you would never have found out."