The rest of the ride to Tolimus' fortress on the Welsh border passed uneventfully, apart from Bors' horse falling lame within sight of the walls and him having to walk next to their squire and the Roman captain for the rest of the way.
A village spread out before the fort on the Roman side, where some 500 troops were stationed, and where the people who served them had made their homes. Tents and dubious-looking huts scattered the land, and smoke from cooking fires carried welcome smells to the noses of Arthur's knights. The fort itself was almost as big as the one at Hadrian's Wall – stonework some three stories high and several feet thick was broken only by arrow-slits and a huge oak gate.
Crossing the threshold, the knights entered a large courtyard and were met by several Roman soldiers in full regalia, who stood saluting them. A smaller man stepped forward, also fully-armed, and raised a hand in greeting to Arthur who sat at the front of his men.
"Welcome" he said, his Latin slightly accented. "I am Petrarchus Tolimus, General of this fortress and commander of the Welsh border troops"
"I am Arturius Castus" Arthur said, using his full given name – a sign that he was asserting his status at the Roman.
"Yes" Tolimus smiled, but his eyes remained impassive. "I trust your journey went well?"
"Not quite" Arthur motioned the Roman captain forwards. Tolimus saw him and his eyes widened in surprise.
"Proctimus?"
"General" the captain bowed slightly, looking nervous. He obviously wasn't expected back so soon. "My men were overtaken and killed by the Devil's Welshwoman two days ago. Arturius and his knights saved me from a similar fate. The woman, however, remains at large"
Tolimus's face reddened, but he managed to control his anger. His jaw clenched, he looked back up at Arthur.
"I thank you for that service" he said through gritted teeth, "although if you had killed or captured the woman it would have been greater"
"She was already out of our reach by the time we got there" Arthur said, and Lancelot's eyes flickered to the older man. As he remembered, she could easily have been pursued...
Tolimus accepted Arthur's word, however, and motioned for his guards to take the knights' horses.
"Well" he shrugged, seeming to gather himself together. "Now that you are arrived, you must be weary. I will have your horses stabled and you will be shown to your quarters. Tonight is yours to spend as you wish, but tomorrow you will report to the main chamber and learn why you are here"
Bors bristled as a soldier reached for the reins he was holding, and at this – quite frankly – puny Roman General telling them what to do, but Arthur replied; "As you wish" and Bors gave way to the soldier. Co-operation would certainly be easier than punching the man's lights out.
A quick look to their squire told Arthur that their horses and arms would be well looked-after, so he dismounted and led his knights after a Roman soldier who said he would take them to their rooms. Because of their status they were to be housed inside the fortress, with a small room each to themselves.
Gawain smiled as he looked out of his tiny slit of a window, at the rolling Welsh countryside in the afternoon sun.
"I tell you what" he said to Galahad, who had followed him into the room. "It beats the Wall"
"It's smaller" Galahad said.
"It's got a larger village" Gawain argued. "That probably means more supplies. More food, more ale..."
"More women?"
"That too!"
The two men laughed and deposited everything they wouldn't need for eating and drinking that night, before heading back out to the courtyard to get a feel for the place.
Like most Roman garrisons, nightfall saw the emergence of off-duty soldiers, tradesmen and people from the surrounding camp, all looking for food, entertainment, and a quick profit. Tolimus liked to keep the fort and the camp separate as much as possible – he didn't want his battlements overrun by children and prostitutes – but he allowed some of the more reputable locals inside the walls to service his men.
Gawain and Galahad stepped out into the midst of the bustle, and simultaneously spied a nearby food stand. Grinning, Gawain led the way over.
"What'll it be, lads?" the grizzled, fat man behind the counter said, his cheeks flushed from the bottle he held in one paw. In the other he brandished a large carving knife, and all around him hung roasting meat, whose juices spattered his grimy apron.
"Whatever you've got" Gawain said, "and lots of it"
"Right you are" the trader said, and a minute later handed over two platters filled with meat, dripping and hunks of bread. It looked good and smelled even better. Galahad grimaced.
"How much?"
"Nothing lad! Ole' Tolimus pays my fee!"
Galahad grinned widely. "A thousand thanks to his Generalship!"
"Aye! I take it you're not from around 'ere?"
"We aren't" Gawain said, his mouth full. "But so far we've enjoyed your hospitality"
"Did I 'ear 'ospitality'?" a new voice boomed, and Bors suddenly appeared, slapping Galahad on the back so hard he spat out the meat he was chewing. The huge man inhaled deeply and sighed. "Smells bootiful – can I 'ave some?"
"Aye!" The trader busied himself shovelling food onto a platter and Bors turned to his fellows.
"They have ale over there makes our stuff taste like piss!"
Gawain looked thoughtful. "I thought our stuff was piss..."
Bors humpfed. "Piss is too expensive. I'm goin' to drink like I 'aven't drunk in weeks!"
Gawain and Galahad exchanged glances. They both knew what that meant.
"Your dinner, lordship" the trader said, taking a swig from his bottle at the same time as pushing the plate over. Bors looked him up and down as he took the food.
"I'm goin' to drink till I look like 'im"
"You already do!" Galahad cried, then dodged a heavy-handed blow.
"Take that back, I'm far more pretty"
"You sound like Lancelot" Gawain said, then heard a cough behind him. "Oh...hello, Lancelot..."
"Good evening" Lancelot said sweetly, as if he were at a formal dinner, not in the middle of a soldiers' camp. His eyes, however, promised a surprise death for Gawain
later on. "Has anyone seen Arthur?"
"Err...no" Bors said. "Food?"
Lancelot shook his head, holding up the tankard he held as if to say good ale was enough for his hunger. "I wonder where he can be..."
"You know what he's like, he's probably making battle plans for tomorrow" Gawain said. Galahad looked confused.
"We don't even know what we're doing tomorrow"
Gawain grinned. "Exactly"
"Come on Lancelot, don't pine...come and 'ave a look at those fresh-faced young maidens with me" Bors nodded to the other side of the courtyard, and Lancelot laughed. Three women stood by the wall, looking over at the knights and giggling. To call them 'fresh-faced' or even 'young' was something of an exaggeration.
"Bors, what would your dear woman say if she knew I'd been unfaithful?"
Bors gave Lancelot a black look, but the other knight just smiled self-confidently and, with a salute of his tankard, made his way over to a gaming table where four Roman soldiers welcomed him in like a brother.
Dagonet and Tristan, adequately supplied with food and drink, sat in a shadowy corner of the courtyard with the Roman captain and the Lieutenant who'd shown them to their rooms earlier. Two foot-soldiers also graced the table, but they'd been drinking far longer than their companions and were in no fit state to take part in conversation. The captain downed the rest of his ale and waved for some more to be brought over.
"I'll probably get reassigned" he said, his voice a little slurred. "But you can't forget almost being slaughtered like that...it would 'ave been better if I'd died with my men"
"You won't be punished though" the Lieutenant reassured him. "Everyone knows what 'appened"
"Everyone knows I couldn't 'old my own against a bleedin' woman"
The Lieutenant shook his head and looked to his ale. "Not any woman..."
Dagonet, normally stoic and silent, regarded the two men intently. "We heard rumours of a woman at Hadrian's Wall...could it be the same one?"
The Lieutenant looked up, interested. "Probably" he said. "If they said she was violent, bloodthirsty and unstoppable?"
Dagonet didn't crack a smile. "Something like that"
Tristan was thinking back on his tracking of the trio the day before – they'd been heading in the same direction as the knights, and it made him wonder about the chances of meeting them again. The captain seemed to be wallowing in self-despair, so he addressed himself to the other Roman.
"Does she live near here?"
The man shrugged. "They move their camp so we can't keep track of them...but they stay in this area. Bloody nuisance they are. Maybe that's why you're here – to get rid of 'em once and for all"
"I thought we were here to suppress the Irish" Tristan said. Although they hadn't really been told the nature of their mission, recent reports about invasions on the west coast suggested that the Irish had a lot to do with their being sent there.
The Lieutenant shrugged. "Who am I to say? The Irish aren't the biggest threat around 'ere...the Welsh are"
"We'll find out tomorrow" Dagonet said, his voice low. Tristan nodded and concentrated back on his ale. For some reason, he couldn't quite get into the mood to make merry that night. Maybe it was the long day's march, or the fact that he usually knew what was going on before he arrived at a new post. Whatever, he resolved to try and drink himself out of his gloom.
Suddenly, a raucous cry behind them caused them to turn and look to where Lancelot was quickly standing from a gaming table.
"What's he done now?" Tristan mused as he saw the other knight raise his hands in a placating gesture.
"I'm afraid I'll have to step out, friends" Lancelot could be heard saying. "Before my luck runs out"
"It's already run out!" one of the soldiers cried, and pulled out a blade threateningly.
He'd barely unsheathed it before he found a sword at his neck.
"Think carefully before you hurt yourself" a deep voice cautioned, and Tristan suddenly noticed that Arthur had appeared.
The Roman soldier froze, and one look at Lancelot's intense gaze told him this was one fight he didn't want to start. He slowly sheathed his weapon and backed down, sitting again on a stool around the gaming table. Lancelot stepped forwards to join Arthur.
"Causing trouble already?" Arthur said, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. Lancelot grinned.
"Just making my saddlebag heavier. Where have you been?"
"Around" Arthur said. "On the walls"
Lancelot raised an eyebrow. For all that he knew Arthur better than anyone, there were some things about the man he'd never understand. He studied him closely, trying to get a clue as to what he was up to.
"Find anything?"
Arthur shook his head almost imperceptibly. "Not really"
"Well, now that you're here, won't you join us in a drink?" Gawain said. He'd come over on seeing his leader and picked up another tankard on the way. Arthur accepted it gratefully.
"Just what I needed. How do you like the place?"
"There's food, ale, women, and I have my own room" Gawain grinned. "Don't have to listen to Bors snoring all night. Couldn't ask for more!"
Arthur and Lancelot laughed, and toasted the hospitality of Tolimus. From their shadowy corner behind the trio, Tristan and Dagonet fell back on their thoughts as their Roman companions sank further into oblivion.