A/N: Camreyn: Thanks for all your reviews – they're always constructive and it's great! Hopefully the next chapters will answer your questions! As for Holland – I didn't get there when I was backpacking – I toured Eastern Europe. I've been before tho!!
Just2spooky, SunsetSparrow, Anwen: Thanks for all your reviews too, it's really cool having long-term readers!
Chapter Nine
That night at the fortress, there was celebration.
The Irish had been defeated, the Welsh had been decimated, and Tolimus had ordered the wine cellars opened. Despite the number of dead, it was cause for celebration. Half the dead Roman soldiers were reinforcements from the northern camp anyway – not a great loss in the overall scheme of things.
"We didn't lose anyone either" Gawain pointed out gleefully. "Quite a good battle, if you ask me"
"Not this time..." Galahad muttered into his ale. Gawain regarded him thoughtfully.
"You're a rather angry young man, aren't you?"
Galahad scowled, and Lancelot patted him consolingly on the back, chuckling to himself at his friend's face. The three men, along with Bors and Dagonet, were sat round a table in the courtyard, talking the day over and imbibing as much ale as possible. Strangely enough, Bors was the quietest – he'd barely said anything all evening. Lancelot poked him in the arm to get his attention.
"What's the matter Bors? Did you not kill as many Irish as you'd hoped?"
Bors grunted, and Gawain said;
"It can't be that – we didn't have a bet this time, even though I know I killed more than him...he didn't lose any money!"
"I miss my little bastards" Bors growled, and Lancelot sighed in understanding.
"I miss them too...and Vanora"
"I'll bet" Bors snarled, but the other knight only grinned innocently.
"You always leave her for days, weeks!" Galahad said. "What's so different this time?"
"They're growin' up" Bors explained. "I feel I'm missin' out on things. Vanora's pregnant again – that's another one on the way and I'm not around to see 'er get big"
"I'm sure she's fine" Gawain reassured him. "She's done it ten times before"
"Yeah..." Bors agreed, face brightening slightly. "She can look after 'erself"
Just then, a wench in a low-cut dress sauntered over, carrying a tray full of jugs. Leaning one elbow casually on Dagonet's broad shoulder, she held the tray up and inquired;
"Wine, anyone?"
"Aye, wine!" Gawain cried, and Galahad reached for a couple of jugs. Giggling, the barmaid handed them over, brushing back her blonde locks as she straightened up.
"More wine!" Bors cried, reaching for another jug.
"I will have some also" Lancelot told the woman, and Galahad froze, jug halfway to his mouth, to stare at the other man.
Lancelot was politely taking the jug, keeping his eyes on the woman's face, and the smile of thanks he shot her was completely innocent. Where was his trademark leer?
The wench actually looked a little disappointed.
Gawain had also noticed Lancelot's restraint, and caught the woman on her way past him, pulling her into his lap. Galahad looked at her a little longingly, then turned to Lancelot.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You...erm...didn't...erm..."
"Didn't what?" Lancelot looked genuinely confused, but his eyes glittered with mirth. He wanted Galahad to say it, but with the woman sitting right next to him in Gawain's lap, he looked to be having some trouble finding the right words.
"What he's trying to say, is that he's never seen you act as such a gentleman" Dagonet rescued the younger man, his deep voice rumbling across the table like quiet thunder. Whenever he spoke, which was rarely, his words were heeded.
"I'm always a gentleman!" Lancelot protested, but Dagonet's raised eyebrow made him smile in defeat. "Maybe I'm just not in the mood?"
"You're always in the mood!" Gawain cried, and his woman giggled coquettishly. She certainly had assets...but Lancelot didn't want to bed another faceless woman that night. Anyway, Gawain looked to be having fun.
He just shrugged and took a swig of the wine. He didn't have to explain why he wasn't in the mood for women. He wasn't even sure himself. Whenever he thought of Auria, the Welshwoman he'd fought alongside in battle, he felt...guilty about other women. At least, he thought it was guilt. It was certainly an unfamiliar feeling. The trouble was, Auria's face kept popping into his mind.
Galahad, seeing that he wasn't going to get an explanation, turned his eyes out into the courtyard, trying to find a woman for himself. Gawain looked like he'd be preoccupied for the rest of the night, and he didn't fancy spending the evening just talking to his fellow knights. In a far, shadowy corner, he spied Tristan. The man was using his thin hunting knife to slice and eat and apple. What was it with him and apples?
Tristan looked up.
From this distance, his eyes looked slightly bloodshot, as if he'd been awake for a long time. Galahad, as usual, couldn't hold his piercing gaze and looked away. Straight towards a smiling girl.
His normally frowning face split into a wide grin, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. With a cursory wave to his comrades, he got up and left the table.
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Meanwhile, Arthur was convening a meeting with General Tolimus. After several fruitless hours spent waiting outside the main chamber. Whilst he would not normally let himself be treated in such a fashion, this was not Hadrian's Wall. He had no status here beyond that of an ordinary Roman knight. Tolimus had seen fit to take care of other business before granting him an audience – namely, writing letters of victory to the surrounding fortresses.
"What do you think of this?" he asked, motioning to a roll of paper held by a pale young scribe. The scribe cleared his throat, and read out;
"Following a hard battle, the Irish were overwhelmingly defeated by the brave men of Fortress VIII. 263 Roman soldiers were killed – request reinforcements"
Arthur nodded noncommittally.
"It sounds...appropriate"
"Good!" Tolimus cried. "It's going to Rome!"
"Rome?"
"Yes, they appreciate news from their last outpost!"
"You make no mention of the help we received from the Welsh" Arthur commented. Tolimus waved his hand dismissively.
"You mean the help we gave to the Welsh. I see no reason to bother Rome with such...trivialities. The main thing is the victory, with which the Governors will be most pleased"
'Which you will receive full credit for, I'm sure' Arthur thought.
"It is the Welsh I wish to speak with you about" he replied instead. "Namely, the truce"
"What?" Tolimus picked up a goblet of wine and took a swig. "What about it?"
"Will you uphold it?"
"I see no reason why not. They suffered heavy casualties, didn't they?"
"I believe so"
"Well then, they'll still be crippled by the full moon. With any luck they'll flee before then and save us the trouble of exterminating them"
Arthur nodded slowly. Although he disagreed with the Roman, he had no reason to say so. He felt he owed it to the Welsh to uphold the truce, and since it seemed that Tolimus was willing to honour it, he could rest easy.
"Perhaps" he agreed. "That is all I came to ask"
"Right, well...you'd better get out there and celebrate" Tolimus said. "There'll be work to do tomorrow, I suppose"
"Yes, Sir"
Arthur inclined his head in something of a salute and left the room. In the corridor outside the main chamber, noise from the courtyard filtered in through small windows high up in the wall. It sounded like the soldiers were having a good time and...was that Gawain...singing...? Arthur grinned and quickened his pace.
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The dawning sun on following morn found a settlement enshrouded in mist. Silence reigned – the blank whiteness hid moans of pain, sighs of despair, and the tears of many. Despite winning the battle, the people had lost much, including their leader. Times had suddenly become uncertain.
Inside his shelter, Auria knelt alone by Lindon's body.
She had kept watch all night, barely aware of her own injuries – the swelling of her joints and the dried blood on her face. Looking down on Lindon's peaceful face, she hoped for an epiphany – some sign of her own future. It was an empty hope – she found no answers.
The people expected her to take charge of the situation. She had seen it in their eyes on her return the night before...they looked to her for guidance but all she could offer were empty words about taking care of the injured and preparing the dead for cremation. She had no idea of leadership. She was a killer first and foremost – it seemed like her calling...she excelled at it and it had become her role within the tribe. The protection her skills brought the settlement were secondary, in a way.
And then there was her past.
Her life had made her far too independent to commit herself to the tribe. Deep down she knew hers was a restless spirit. Becoming a leader meant making a decision to die here.
She didn't want to die here.
She hung her head, meditating on her thoughts for a long while, until a soft sound caught her attention.
"Auria?"
It was a whisper – Elen didn't want to interrupt her friend's reverie. Especially not when that friend had just become de facto head of the tribe.
Auria brought her head up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested.
"Yes?"
"We must prepare Lindon for the ceremony" Elen said gently.
Auria sighed. Lindon and the rest of the dead would be burned – committed to the heavens and the earth that bore them. She turned round to meet Elen's gaze.
"Very well"
She swallowed, realising for the first time how dry her mouth was. Elen saw indecision in her gaze...worry...
"How many are dead?"
Auria's voice was cracked, and Elen went to kneel by her, trying through her presence to offer comfort.
"Half of those who went into battle. Another third of those left are injured. You should see to your own wounds..."
Auria's eyes had grown glazed as her thoughts turned inwards once again. She licked her lips and said;
"Could it have been avoided?"
Elen shook her head. If Auria began blaming herself...
"No" she said. "It was the only way, and a willing sacrifice. Now we must rebuild...we need you, Auria. Do not hide yourself away"
Her conversation with Ganal came rushing back. He had charged her with responsibilities too. She laughed bitterly.
"What am I to do, Elen? I cannot take Lindon's role!"
"The people have chosen you"
"How? Have they all said they want me to lead them?!" Auria knew she was just practising denial, but at that moment all she wanted was a way out.
"They don't have to. Auria...we will help you. Myself, Ganal...we will all help you. But you must give a show of strength, at least for today"
"And tomorrow?"
Elen shook her head. "Tomorrow will bring its own tasks"
Auria was silent for a long time. Finally, she nodded.
"I will preside over the ceremony tonight"
"That is well. Now, come with me. You are injured"
Auria followed the woman back to her own shelter, passing on the way dozens of pale faces – the fallen and those who tended them. Half the familiar faces were gone. All of her horsemen but Ganal had been killed. She had never felt so empty inside.
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Theoden sat by the body of his son. He had spoken out against siding with the Romans in the first place – he was one of a tiny minority who thought the Welsh should stand alone rather than play puppets to Rome. He had been justified – look what they had left!
The people were stupid – Lindon was stupid. Him and the woman...the woman who was now their leader. Accepting her in his place was just agreeing to certain doom. She had killed his son...
And what now? The time until the full moon was theirs, but it wasn't enough. In less than two weeks, the weakened settlement would be overrun by Roman soldiers. There was no way to stand up to it – the only option was to relocate far away. Only, most people were too sick to travel. Theoden bristled inside.
Someone deserved to pay.
The woman? She was responsible after all.
Or was she? She had met with Romans – listened to Roman promises. Theoden's hatred of Rome was far greater than his hatred of Auria. She had, after all, provided him service in the past. At least she had done some good...Romans were nothing but evil. Roman lies had brought them to this state.
Or, more specifically, one Roman's lies. Arthur. He was the man who had promised so much...struck a bargain for their freedom. The bargain hadn't included his son's death.
Theoden made a silent resolve. He would make the Roman pay.
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Elen carefully cleaned Auria's wounds, although she half-thought that even if she'd been rough, her friend wouldn't have felt it. That familiar body, that she'd seen so many times after battle, helped to dress and undress and stitch back together, now had fresh scars to accompany the old. This time, she didn't make any jokes about the dirt, or the blood and sweat-encrusted hair which hung limply down the woman's back. Now was not the time for jokes.
Elsewhere in the settlement, preparations were taking place. Ganal had organised things – bodies were being cleaned and dressed, and everyone who was able would attend that night. Because of the amount of smoke from the funeral pyre, the ceremony would take place a league or so from the settlement, downwind. Despite the truce with the Romans, there was no good reason to light a beacon leading them straight to the site of the Welsh.
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Just before nightfall, Auria dressed in the ceremonial robes she would have worn as Lindon's assistant in any other tribal ceremony. Ganal wore Lindon's robes – male and female both played a part in the ritual, to reflect the male and female in all of nature.
A long procession, carrying torches, wound out from the clearing and deep into the woods. Wherever the people settled, the ancestral funeral ground remained the same. By the highest rock, at the top of a large valley fed by the river, people had been given their last rites for generations. Burial mounds looked over the scene from a long-forgotten past. In these modern times, bodies were burned. Lindon would go out in death shining as brightly as he had done in life.
That night saw the biggest pyre in living memory. The flames from the piled rushes seemed to reach the stars. Those flickering lights paled in comparison.
Auria didn't watch the flames. She looked to the heavens, unaware of the chill night air, and saw a lone shooting star arcing over the void.
One star had broken free of the rest. One star blazed its own trail.
Despite what she had fought for, Auria still longed for freedom.
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At the back of the gathered crowd of people, Theoden waited. When the drums had ceased to beat, and the chanting was in full sway, the flames growing beyond those they consumed, he slipped away into the night.
Unnoticed by all but the forest creatures, he ran the two leagues to the fortress, hesitating in the grass when he came within sighed of the walls. He had come to the place of the Romans – the place of empty promises and scattered dreams.
His fingers curled around his bow, and the muscles of his back flexed beneath the reassuring weight of his axe.
Keeping an eye on the guards on the wall, he crept slowly through the shadows.
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Tristan sighed inwardly and pulled his heavy cloak closer about his strong frame. It was well past midnight, and as usual, he was alone on the walls. Even his hawk had deserted him for better hunting grounds. He didn't know what kept him awake so long – at least, he didn't like to think too deeply into the matter. It was a part of him and he'd long ago come to accept it. His place was that of watcher...seeing all and hearing all. Perhaps he should change his name to Vigilance.
The stars were certainly beautiful tonight, although their cold majesty was disturbed somewhat by a glow to the west. A fire was burning, but there was no warning signal. Whatever it was, it belonged to the Welsh. It was not of Roman concern, but it piqued his curiosity nonetheless. It had been much larger earlier in the night...the glow was a muted orange now. A fire burning itself out.
And the shooting star. The trailing flame pointing east. Galahad would have read something into it...Tristan was not so taken by fancy. Signs to him were those contained in the tracks of animals, in the shape of the clouds and the faces of men.
In the movement amongst the shadows...
Something was moving below the wall. Tristan chastised himself for becoming so caught up in his own thoughts that he'd almost missed it. It was too large to be an animal. Besides, animals did not creep around in such a way.
A man. But what manner of man? A Roman would not sneak up on his own garrison. The Irish were all dead...even if one had escaped, they would not come to an enemy fortress.
His bow trained on the mysterious figure, Tristan slipped into the shadows and waited.
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When the fire had taken the bodies of the dead, Auria and Ganal told the people to return to the settlement. Ganal looked over the faces that were left – they had all become so much more familiar to him this past day. He was aware of each and every one of them – the survivors.
One face was missing.
"Where is Theoden?" he wondered out loud. Auria glanced at him.
"Did he come?"
"Yes, his son is dead"
Auria mentally kicked herself. Of course...she would have to speak with him. He had spoken out against herself and Lindon and had suffered the death of his only child. It seemed unfair that the man least willing to fight had suffered most.
"He may have returned already"
"Perhaps" Ganal assented.
"I will find him when we get back – I must speak with him"
"He may not want to see you"
"I know...but you yourself told me to try"
"I can come with you?"
"No...I will do it alone. Thank you, though"
Auria wanted to hurry back to the clearing to get her self-imposed task over with, but for the sake of propriety she had to hang back with Ganal and walk behind the others. Some people came to talk to them, giving words of support or sharing in the sadness of the community. All Auria could offer were words of sympathy or reassurance. Even if she didn't not believe in them herself.
Finally returning home, she didn't bother to change out of her robes before heading to Theoden's shelter. Part of her thought that wearing them would lend her some authority in front of the older man. She needn't have worried, however – his shelter was empty.
Elen had been waiting to speak to her friend, and when she turned from Theoden's hearth, a puzzled look on her face, she went over.
"You did well" she said quietly. Auria nodded absently.
"Have you seen Theoden?"
"No...not since the ceremony. Is he not in his shelter?"
"No" Auria looked round. "In fact, he doesn't seem to be anywhere..."
Elen looked thoughtful. "Has he taken any women recently?"
"No...but I shall ask around. Perhaps someone has seen him"
It soon became clear that they hadn't. Theoden had disappeared. Standing puzzled by the communal fire, and old man hobbled over. His name was Danwel, and he was Daneth's grandfather. His son's death had affected him, but he held respect for Auria and knew she was Daneth's friend in life. He sat down heavily and motioned that Auria should do the same.
"You look troubled" he stated, his voice cracked with age.
"Yes" Auria replied. "I had been hoping to speak with Theoden, but I cannot find him"
"Theoden...he was troubled also" Danwel said. "His son's death hit him hard"
"I can imagine. That is why I wish to see him"
Danwel sighed. "He didn't blame you, if that's what you fear. He blamed the Romans"
Auria glanced at the shrewd old man. She had feared that Theoden would hold her responsible. In fact, a part of her felt responsible...
"No-one was to blame"
"Still, he hated the Romans from birth. Now he feels they have taken his son...his future. He was talking of them earlier, before the ceremony"
"Yes?"
"He said they had tricked our people, that they wanted us to doom ourselves fighting the Irish. He was raving..." Danwel stopped and coughed. "Said they deserved to be punished for what they had done, but that you would do nothing"
"Me?"
"Yes. He recognises you as leader, at least" Danwel laughed, but it deteriorated to more coughing. Auria passed him some ale, which he accepted gratefully. "Anyway, he said his son's death, and the deaths of so many others, must be avenged"
Auria frowned. "He wants me to avenge them?"
"He thinks you will not"
"So he is bitter..." Auria surmised. Danwel nodded. "I hope he doesn't do anything stupid..."
A thought suddenly occurred to her, and her words trailed off into silence. She looked at the old man, who raised an eyebrow in question.
"You don't think he's gone to get revenge, do you?"
Danwel, for all his advanced years, was surprisingly quick on the uptake.
"Are his weapons still here?"
Auria jumped up and ran to Theoden's shelter. His bow and axe were gone, as was the quiver of arrows which always sat just inside his door.
She swore loudly, drawing curious glances from those still awake.
Danwel hobbled over once again and laid a hand on her arm.
"It looks like you must move quickly..."
A/N: This chapter was SO hard to write...all the 'thinking' everyone does! I hope I captured a little bit of Tristan in this – I get the idea that for all his loneliness, he notices the beauty in nature and appreciates it. I like the idea of two people seeing the same thing but drawing totally different conclusions. Tristan's does seem rather bleak, but then, he's a mysterious guy. I hope this chapter contrasts the mood in the fortress with that of the settlement. Cliff-hanger will be resolved next chapter!