Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, I'm really glad people are liking the story and I will try to stop changing the point of view. I'm not sure if I like this chapter but I'm going to post it anyway.
"COME ON! Gwen, you won't get good in bed you know," I said.
"Yes, but I might get some sleep," she mumbled. "I've been in a dungeon for two weeks, and you expect me to practice?"
"If you're not up in five minutes I'll come back with a bucket!"
Five minutes later I came back with a bucket, and ended up being chased all over camp.
Soon we got down to business, and went through a couple of swordplay forms before I began to teach Gwen some new moves.
"So how did the knights do last night? Up to your standard?" Gwen questioned later.
"No, but better than the men from your village. They're going to have a hard time getting up today," I replied, laughing.
"Whilst you look as fresh as a daisy. Like you always do."
Sure enough, over where they had passed out the night before, the Knights were beginning to wake up to find they all had splitting headaches.
"Oh, my head..." groaned Galahad. "Remind me never to do that again..."
"Did we beat her?" asked Bors groggily.
"Must have done," answered Lancelot unsurely.
"Where is she then?" asked Gawain.
"Firstly," moaned Tristan, "let's go stop the banging..."
The Knights stumbled off in the direction of the noise to find Gwen and I in the most graceful swordfight they had ever seen. As we circled each other I was surprised to see Gwen falter, and then burst out laughing. I turned to see what see was staring at, and grinned at the sight of my drinking partners clutching their heads in expressions of great pain.
"Well, my dears," I said, sheathing my sword as loudly as possible. "How are we feeling this morning? Not too good, by the looks of it?"
"How can you possibly be so fresh? You drank as much as we did last night..." mumbled Bors.
"More," I said cheerfully. "I won, remember?"
"No..." groaned Lancelot.
"Do I look like I lost?" I asked, still grinning.
I took pity on them after that, and made them breakfast, which made them feel a tad better. While I was handing out breakfast and drinks, Arthur came up and looked in surprise on his dishevelled knights.
"What happened to you?" he asked, shocked.
"Her!" Galahad said pointing.
"I didn't do it..." I said, trying to look innocent.
"Is that all you say to me?" Arthur asked amused.
"No, and it wasn't my fault. I never forced them to drink all that wine."
"Ah. So they're hung over."
"What did you think I did?" I asked, looking at him like he was simple. "Knock them out and drag them through bushes?"
"No, and from now on I'm not even going to try and guess what you have been doing with my men," he said, and wandered off, smiling bemusedly.
Soon the caravan moved off, and I now knew why we were moving so quickly. The Knights had told me last night about the Saxons, and I was now as eager as everyone else to be going as quickly as possible. While we were packing up ready to leave, I had the best surprise I could have ever hoped for. I found my horse Petro on a lead rope attached to one of the wagons, and screeched in delight. I ran up to him and threw my arms around his neck. I was told later they had taken all the horses so they could have as many people mounted as possible. He whuffled at me in surprise and delight, and went on to try and eat my hair. I giggled and detached him from the wagon, leading him over to a fallen tree to mount up. He had no saddle, but that was fine, as I preferred riding bareback.
In the early afternoon, Gawain came up to talk to me. I was riding Petro with Lucan, and another little girl sitting in front of me.
"Is that horse really yours?" he asked.
"Yeah. Isn't he pretty?"
Gawain laughed. "If you say so, though I'd say large would be the word that comes to mind."
"Yeah I know, but he's very gentle. Unless he's bored. And the fact he's quite round makes it harder to fall off."
"I suppose so," he said, still laughing. "So, who taught you to fight?"
"Well, I was a dancer in the circus before they decided to have female gladiators. Then we were taught the basics of fighting, and given a month to train for it. Me and the others, we sort of created our own fighting style. We were dancers so it is quite graceful, and we knew we would be up against people stronger than us so it involves a lot of ducking and dodging."
"Wow. So what's your favourite weapon?"
"Long sword. But I use knives as well." She stroked Petro's mane and ruffled Lucan's hair. "I've been teaching you to throw knives," she smiled. "Haven't I Lucan?"
"Yep!" he stated proudly. "But I'm not very good. I even hit Jasmine once..." he added guiltily.
"Yeah, he taught me a lesson about standing next to the targets!" she laughed.
"Can you teach me too, Jasmine?" inquired the little girl.
"Of course," she replied. "Now you two get down, because I think Petro might act up soon if he's bored. I don't want you to get hurt." Jasmine handed the girl down to a serf woman and gave Lucan to Dagonet.
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later the up-till-then placid horse bucked, and reared, and bucked once more before charging up the line with Jasmine laughing on his back.
Later, when they had stopped and eaten, Dagonet said he wanted to look at Jasmine's wounds. She climbed into the wagon, before shucking out of her top and letting him unwind her bandages. He cleaned them again, but informed her that she was healing fast. He told her she should let them air for a while and then come back to have them re-bandaged.
Jasmine went over to one of the fires and sat by it, leaning against a convenient tree. She had borrowed a brush from Guinevere, and started to leisurely brush her hair with it, running it through her thick black locks. She started to murmur a song as she did so, singing to herself sleepily. The simple melodies of the song moved, mixing and weaving themselves together with the warm tongues of air created by the fire. The warmth and the song spread, forming a relaxed and comfortable circle around the fire. Tristan and Gawain came to stand on the edge of the firelight. They stared at her. With the firelight playing gently over her features, and her eyes half closed, she looked like cat about to purr. They came to sit near the fire and watched her, the rhythmic movements of her hands on her hair and the murmured song making them sleepy, so when she had finished and swept her hair back over her shoulder, they were already half asleep. She gestured at them with the brush and asked them if they would like their hair brushed. They murmured sleepy assents, and Gawain gestured at Tristan to go first. He moved over to her and she pulled his head down into her lap. She started to sing again, as she unbraided his hair and brushed it over her knees.
Arthur came up on his way to his bed, and looked on in amazement at this scene. In all the years they had been in Britain, he had never seen his men this relaxed in any but their own company. He supposed they had never had a chance to be.
When Tristan's hair was done, he moved off and went sleepily to his bed. Gawain moved to occupy his position, and Jasmine repeated the process, unbraiding his hair and brushing it till it fell thick and shining in her lap. His hair was unexpectedly soft in a sort of rugged animalistic way It took a lot longer than Tristan's had done because it was much longer, and by the time she returned to Dagonet he asked her where she had been.
"Brushing Tristan and Gawain's hair," she replied, yawning and moving towards the wagon to get re-bandaged. She left Dagonet and Galahad trying to pick their jaws up off the floor behind her.