A Polite Discussion
Lancelot's analysis of the fight between Briar and Arthur proved accurate. Oona had just finished re-bandaging Gawain's arm when Arthur delivered the fatal blow and brought the assassin to his knees.
He finished it quickly and turned to the others in the room, sweating and panting.
"Are you hurt?" Junius Livius asked.
"No, a few cuts," Arthur answered, trying to catch his breath. "We have to hurry. Maurus could have escaped by now."
Suddenly someone bellowed from outside. "ARTORIUS!"
"Or not," Lancelot added.
Gawain scrambled to his feet, grabbing his tunic. He swatted at Tristan's hands, which tried to keep him on the ground. "He has Isabelle," he growled.
Tristan jerked his hands back as if he were stung by a bee.
Swaying dangerously, Gawain tried to pull the tunic over his head, but his wounds prevented him. With a harsh curse he threw the offending garment aside and reached for his sword.
Arthur placed a soothing hand on his knight's arm. "She'll be fine."
Lancelot picked up the tunic and helped Gawain put it on. "Leave the rest," the blonde knight panted.
"ARTORIUS! OUTSIDE NOW OR SHE'S DEAD!" the same voice from outside roared.
Gawain flew to the ruined front door, but fell to his knees before he reached it, overcome with dizziness.
"Help him," Arthur ordered and warily stepped outside.
Near the entrance to the assassins' quarters stood a tall man.
"Gods," Lancelot breathed behind him. "Isabelle."
The man held the young woman in front of him, making sure he stayed out of shot. He held a knife at her throat. Isabelle's eyes were closed and she did not struggle. There were darkening bruises on her face and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
"Ah," Maurus said friendly, "so nice of you to join me."
Arthur studied the tall and muscular man. His facial features would have been pleasant, had they not had an air of cruelty. From what Arthur could see in the flickering lights of the torches, he seemed to be in good shape. Despite his obvious richness he had not let himself go, as so many wealthy men did.
"Maurus," Arthur said carefully. "Let her go. You won't escape justice."
Maurus pressed the blade closer to Isabelle's throat. She gasped and opened her eyes, looking at the knights. Her eyes shot from left to right, searching for a particular face. "No," she breathed and finally began to struggle, crying out, "NO! Gawain!"
Arthur cringed at the pained voice ringing in his ears. Before he could set her mind at ease, Gawain's voice bellowed from inside the house. "Isabelle!"
Leaning on Dinadan's shoulder he stumbled outside and froze at the sight before him. He bolted forward, but was restrained by Dinadan.
Maurus hissed and pushed his knife even closer to the pulsing vein in Isabelle's neck, forcing her to stand on her toes and lean back against him. She shuddered in disgust.
He chuckled when he sensed her reaction and let his other hand slide over her hip and belly. Isabelle let out a strangled gasp and tried to scoot away from his hand, only bringing herself closer to his body. Her movements stilled and she stood rigid with revulsion, her breath hissing through her teeth.
"Tell me, Arthur," Maurus drawled, "since you know all about justice, what is the punishment for a runaway slave? The whip? Or death?"
Arthur's jaw clenched in frustration. "I'll tell you the penalty for murder on an officer. That means death," he retorted. "Your accomplice Briar had his mouth full about his sense of justice too, Maurus. He's paid for his crimes nonetheless."
Maurus's lip curled up in a snarl. "Such a moral person you are, Artorius. Surely you would not deny my owner's right to this slave?"
"She is not a slave!" Gawain shouted.
"Oh, but she is. I paid a great amount of money for her. I've had to…finish her training myself, of course, but there is no denying that she is a slave. I have the documents," Maurus replied calmly.
"She was illegally sold into slavery in the first place," Arthur said, just as calmly.
"You know that makes no difference. She is my slave. I can do whatever I want with her."
"Kill her and we'll do whatever we want with you," Tristan threatened in a low voice.
Maurus chuckled. "Kill her? Whatever gives you that idea, my good man? I would not throw away money like that." He let his hand roam over Isabelle's body again. She squirmed with repugnance.
Lancelot had to help Dinadan restrain Gawain. "You won't do her any good like this," he hissed at his fuming friend.
"I'll kill him," Gawain seethed. "I'll break his neck."
Derisive laughter made them focus on Isabelle's master again.
"I see she's got at least one of you wrapped around her little finger," he snorted. "She's good, isn't she?" The insinuation made Gawain renew his struggle.
"Enough!" Arthur barked. "What do you want?"
"Finally, negotiations. I want safe passage out of Britannia. The slave comes with me as an insurance. If I'm feeling generous, I will not punish her too badly."
"Don't listen, Arthur," Isabelle growled. "You came here to arrest him. Do it!"
Again the knife was pressed closer, breaking through her skin. She was having difficulty breathing now.
Maurus brought his mouth close to her ear, breathing, "Don't be a fool, Anwen. Fight me and I will kill you, no matter how expensive you were. Cooperate, and you'll live."
"I'd rather die than spend one more moment in your presence," she snarled.
"Idle talk. You know you don't want to die," he grinned maliciously.
From the steps to the front door the knight watched in apprehension at the hushed conversation between the two.
"Tristan?" Arthur asked, keeping his eyes on Isabelle.
"I can't hit him," Tristan answered, stepping forward. "He's keeping her perfectly in front of him."
Lancelot narrowed his eyes. "What is he saying to her?"
Maurus was still talking in her ear and Isabelle's struggles grew weaker. She blinked rapidly and clenched her teeth, her face twisted into a grimace.
"Don't listen to him, Isabelle!" Gawain shouted, feeling his stomach turn at the desolation that appeared in her entire being.
Isabelle closed her eyes so she did not have to look at him.
"That's your lover, I presume?" Maurus sneered. "You couldn't wait to jump into another's bed, could you? Just like the little whore you are. Just like your sister."
A jolt of shock shot through her body.
"Oh, yes, I know about her and how she…accommodated all those soldiers."
"You know nothing of my sister!" Isabelle screamed. "Don't you dare speak about her!"
"Maurus!" Arthur bellowed. "I'll make a deal with you."
"What is that, O honourable commander of a pack of Sarmatian dogs?"
"Tell me who wants me dead and I'll let you go, provided you leave Britain. If not, you die here."
Maurus burst out laughing. "You'll never find out who paid for your death. No matter what happens, that secret dies with me. Your threats won't work." He smiled coldly. "But I'll make you a counter offer. You leave now and go back to the Wall and I will tell my client that I've failed to kill you. This will do a great deal of damage to my reputation, but I'm willing to accept that. And Anwen goes with me."
"Unacceptable," Arthur said.
Anger flashed in the assassin master's eyes. "Really?" he snarled. "How unacceptable would my offer be if I include Anwen's life in it?"
A small trail of blood glistened in Isabelle's neck when the knife cut further into her skin.
"If you kill her, you'll lose your advantage," Arthur said.
"Arthur, Arthur," Maurus drawled. "Who are you trying to fool here? I know she is your main concern right now. The purple colour of your knights' faces is quite the give-away. It's her life at stake, not my client's identity. Let me leave, and you have my word she lives. Push me any further and I will kill her, no matter the consequences for me. I am well aware of the hazards of my…occupation, you see. My discreteness is the reason I'm successful. If I betray my clients' identities, I am ruined."
Arthur stared at him for a long time. Then he nodded. "Very well. We will grant you safe passage from Brittannia. You have my word. Now let her go."
"You think I'm an idiot, Artorius?" Maurus scoffed. "The slave comes with me. I'll keep her alive. When I reach Gaul, perhaps I'll let her go. Perhaps."
Gawain cursed and lunged forward again. Maurus reacted by forcing Isabelle's chin up. The blood on her neck glittered black in the light of the torches.
"I'm losing my patience, Artorius!" Maurus yelled angrily. "Restrain your knights! Let me leave with her now or I'll slice her open!"
Suddenly a bow was fired with a loud twang. A moment later Maurus's body froze.
Isabelle's hands shot up to her captor's knife and she jerked the blade away from her skin, sliding down to the ground from behind his arm. Quickly she scrambled to her feet and ran for it, stumbling along the way.
Wide-eyed she turned her head back to see Maurus and tripped over her own feet. She rolled over instantly to scoot further away on her backside, staring at her fallen master.
A hand closed around her arm to help her up. Isabelle tore her gaze away from Maurus when the hand pulled her to her feet.
Tristan felt her body tense up as she looked at him. He let go of her so quickly it seemed he had burned himself on her. She blinked, staring in confusion at him.
"Isabelle," a rumbling voice said behind her.
She turned around. "Gawain," she gasped. He limped towards her with determination.
Suddenly she broke out of her daze and shot towards him. "I thought you were – you're hurt – what happened?" She fisted her hand in his tunic and refused to let go. "This is my fault. I sent them to you. I told him –"
Gawain shushed her. "It's only a scratch. I'm fine."
Isabelle kept muttering things to herself, holding his tunic in an iron grip with one hand and patting his chest with the other in search for more wounds. Gawain placed a hand on her cheek. "Do you hear me? I'm fine. Though I wouldn't mind if we could sit down for a moment."
"Oh god, of course," she rambled. "You shouldn't stand so long."
"There is a rather bossy slave girl with an unintelligible accent and a fondness for needles inside. Perhaps she can check you over?" Gawain suggested.
This finally seemed to stop Isabelle's fretting. She frowned. "Oona?"
"Come on," he chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, trying to keep in a groan of pain. They walked back to the steps.
Arthur saw she was well enough for the moment and advanced on the wounded Maurus. "Tristan, Lancelot," he said.
Lancelot followed him, but looked at the scout. "Tris?" the second-in-command repeated.
Tristan turned on the spot he'd seemed rooted to, flexing and fisting his hand, and walked towards his commander. Arthur had his eyes on Maurus, oblivious to his scout's behaviour, but Lancelot gave him a scrutinizing look.
Tristan stared back with a blank face.
From behind the bathhouse came Bors, crossing the distance to the assassin master with sturdy strides, his bow still in his hand. "You should know never to turn your back on a Sarmatian dog," he growled and yanked his arrow back. Maurus's body convulsed.
Arthur knelt next to his fallen enemy, followed by Lancelot and Tristan. They turned him on his back. It was too late; the man's eyes were glazing over.
"I'm sorry, Arthur," Bors said, "but I could not risk it."
Arthur nodded. Had Bors shot just to injure Maurus, he could have slit Isabelle's throat. And like he himself had said: it was her life at stake, not the identity of the mysterious client.
Bitterly Arthur pushed himself to his feet again. The solution to this mystery had eluded him once again. He looked up and saw Dagonet stand in front of the door to the assassins' quarters, his sword drawn.
Curiously and warily Arthur walked closer and saw a woman stand inside, her arms crossed over her chest. Involuntarily his breath hitched. She was absolutely gorgeous.
Dagonet stepped aside.
"Amarante," Arthur deducted.
"Artorius."
He could sense Lancelot's grin as his second-in-command stood next to him. He hoped his friend would keep his brain about him and would not let himself be led by other things.
"Ah, the poisonous one," Lancelot drawled, contempt lacing his voice. Arthur sighed in relief.
"I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, sir." Amarante inclined her head to Lancelot. "I do not know your name."
"Answer me this first, and perhaps I will tell you," Lancelot drawled. "How is it that we saw Isabelle going into this very building in search of you, to offer you an escape, and the next time we see her, there is a knife at her throat and that filth of a master of yours is manhandling her?"
"Isabelle?"
"Anwen," Arthur clarified.
Amarante shrugged. "Briar came into my room. Anwen and I thought he hadn't seen her, but apparently he had. He left and brought Maurus back with him."
"So you just handed her over to him?" Bors growled.
"What else could I have done? She's fine now, isn't she?"
"Fine? She is not fine!" Lancelot spat. "The gods know what that swine has said and done to her."
"Lancelot…" Arthur calmed his friend with a single word.
Amarante seemed oblivious to the glares that bore into her from all sides.
"Come with us, please," Arthur requested, but this voice left no doubt a refusal would not be accepted.
"Lead the way."
Arthur stalked back to the others, feeling a migraine coming up. What in God's name was he supposed to do with this poison mixer, not to mention the slaves waiting in the house? And then there were about fifteen bodies to take care of, plus the death of one of Junius's warriors. A visit to Eboracum was also in order, to notify the Dux what had been going on. What exactly had been going on? They still didn't know. Arthur knew he had to be careful, not knowing who Maurus had been connected to. The last thing he needed was a rancorous lord somewhere, plotting revenge.
"Junius," Arthur sighed. First things first. "What do you want to do about Behruz?"
"I can't leave him here."
"We burn him," Seraphe said from behind them. "It is not the way of our people, but he will not be buried here. With gifts to help him across, he will make it."
Arthur and Junius nodded.
"What do we do with her?" Junius asked, taking in Amarante's dainty posture.
"I have no idea," Arthur said. His gaze fell on Isabelle, who was sitting quietly on one of the steps, a piece of cloth pressed against her neck. Though she leaned against Gawain's shoulder, she seemed to be somewhere else in her mind. Arthur's skin crawled at the sight of her empty eyes fixing themselves on him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Arthur shook his head. "Don't be. It's finished now."
Her eyes unfocussed again. "Is it?" she mumbled.
A/N: I know I'm bugging you all with so little explanation ( or none at all, actually) of Tristan's behaviour, but that's the point! Bear with me, please :) As always, I'm keeping my mouth shut as to what will happen, no matter how many questions and puppy dog eyes I get ( Yes, that's you too Priestess LOL). Though, by all means, keep them coming, because I love reading your reaction!
Anyways, thanks for the huge response to the last chapter. You make me so happy! I'm glad the difference between G/I and T/I is coming across, because it's one of the main points of the story.
Have a good weekend, everyone!
p.s. No worries, Oona ain't leaving the story.
p.p.s. I know that was a spoiler, and I just said I wouldn't do that, but hey, just one doesn't matter.
p.p.p.s. There really won't be any more though.
p.p.p.p.s. I'm serious!