The Saxon and The Hawk

by dellis

This a complete story made of 14 chapters. The story of Tristan and his true love. (Thanks for the advice "The Blazing Blade).

The Saxon and The Hawk

Chapter 1

Deadric (pronounced De' a dric, long e, short a with emphasis on the first syllable) congratulated herself on making it to the shores of Britain without being discovered... "My father's army may be vast, but that only makes it easier to infiltrate", she smiled to herself. "I have no idea if this Britain is as savage as father says or not, but good or bad it is my new home", she thought pushing back the sadness she felt at leaving her mother and sisters behind. Angrily, she wiped the single tear from her face and stepped onto the ships deck.

She held her head down just in case there was someone still on the deck who would recognize her. When she was sure it was safe she boarded a small boat heading to shore. As the boat neared the beach she looked around and gasped at the horror she saw. Smoke billowed from every hut or building in sight as Cerdic's men continued to slash anything that moved.

How could she be from the same blood and feel so much shame at what she saw? She remembered the way Cynric had bragged and laughed after each conquest and thought she was going to be sick. She always thought he was embellishing the stories for effect but now she knew he wasn't at all.

"I have to get away from here," she thought, "before I give myself away". She spotted Cynric laughing as one of his soldiers was rolling around on the ground. She thought the man was hurt the way he was flailing about. Why didn't Cynric try to help him instead of laughing? "Cynric has turned into such a cruel man," she thought. Not anything like the boy she had helped her mother care for.

As the eldest daughter of Cerdic and Raphella it had been her duty to help raise her younger siblings and she had been particularly fond of her little brother. To her father's disgust, he had been a kind and caring little boy, full of wonder and amazement at life around him.

She remembered consoling Cynric when he overheard the words spoken by the father he had so desperately wanted to impress, "he should have been born first, before your blood thinned and produced weak children." Their Father had been angry yet again at some silly antic and although Cynric had only been 5 or 6 at the time, it had formed a lasting impression on him. At 23 he still was trying to make their father believe he was strong.

She should have spoken up and explained to Cynric that cruelty was not the same as being strong. But at the time she did not realize just how bad Cynric would become. Of course, now it was too late.

After 11 children, all daughters, Cerdic had finally gotten the son he so desperately wanted. Every king needed a Successor to his throne. But Cynric was not the son he'd hoped for. Actually, Cerdic would be lucky if his son survived long enough to see the throne need a successor. Her father was strong and healthy even at his age, which Deadric guessed to be over 60. "Shame", she thought. "Father deserves better, much better."

She thought fondly of her father. Her father wasn't as heartless as people thought. He had always been kind to her. Sometimes a little too kind, according to his advisors. She remembered the time she picked up his sword and tried to raise it over her head. She was too small and had dropped it clattering to the floor. Her father had first appeared angry, then laughing he had promised to teach her how to wield it when she was big enough. As good as his word, he taught her from the time she was 10 years old until recently. "I should have been his son", she thought. "Maybe then I could have made him see how useless it was to be so brutal in conquest."

Once again she thought about pleading with him to rescind the law passed by her great-great-grandfather that specified their ruler had to be male. She really didn't want to rule a nation but thought it would at least take the strain out of her father and brother's relationship. Instead she stuffed it back into the corner of her mind. "He may love me as his favorite daughter, but he'll be Saxon until he draws his last breath", she thought wistfully.

She quickly looked around mentally cursing that she was getting caught up in her memories. She knew she needed to get away as soon as possible before she fooled around and was spotted by someone who would tell her father. She surveyed the landscape and spotted a small opening in the thick brush at the edge of the southern forest. If she was careful she could just make it while no one was looking.

As carefully as possible without appearing to be careful, she walked toward the opening. Just as she reached it she glanced around to see if someone might be watching the lone soldier entering the forest and finding no one she ducked quickly into the opening. She moved a few yards deeper into the forest then stopped to listen for any sound of pursuit. Hearing nothing but the sounds of screaming and crying coming from the villagers still trying, without luck, to fight or escape, she moved southward. Finding a spot far enough in so as not to be seen if she stood up, she quickly pulled off the battle gear and donned a pair of trousers "borrowed" from the soldier she had found necessary to kill. She felt a pang of remorse but decided it had been something she could not avoid. He was going to sound an alarm after all. As much as she hated killing, the Saxon blood in her veins would not allow her to dwell on something she could not change.

Her last act as daughter to the king was to lay a small letter on top of the mound of clothing. She had written it enroute so he would at least know what had happened to her. "Will you ever forgive me for betraying our blood or will you send your son, my brother, to bring me back for the punishment you hold for all who betray you? Either way, I know I am dead to you now." She said the last with the sadness and regret she felt, but moved on with the determination that said, somehow; in someway she would change things.

Chapter 2

Arthur and his knights rode forth form Hadrian's Wall to fulfill their last mission to Rome. The knights neither looked at Arthur or at each other. The feeling of betrayal was still too fresh in their minds. Of all the missions they had been on, this was one that even Arthur had a bad feeling about. But it was still their duty, and duty was what they had known for the last 15 years.

The only knight who seemed to be relaxed at all was Tristan. He almost felt relief at not having to decide where to go or what to do. The rest had their plans for hearth and home – he had "nothingness" an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. With any luck they would find a battle and he could die doing the one thing he knew – fighting. The cause was not important, it never had been. The only thing that mattered was the battle. He tried to hope the others made it to their dream, even if he could not believe dreams were real.

The first night they made camp in the rain. Tristan noticed that the mood had not changed much. But being the men they were, his comrades tried to hide their feelings with amusing banter. Bors talked of his children and Lancelot kept trying to get under his skin by claiming one or the other as his own. Even the laughter seemed forced. They had all heard it many times before and frankly Tristan expected Bors to lose his temper and put an end to the silly game. For some reason, he never did though.

Tristan tried to busy himself by sharpening his blade. Not that it needed it, but it kept him occupied. At least it kept his hands busy. Not so his mind. He kept thinking that the others would do better to remember what they were now, not what they could have been or could still become. Why did they think they could walk away from the years of killing and be anything close to normal? "Dreams", he thought sourly, "only bring pain and disappointment. Never dream – only be." That was what he was thinking when Arthur walked up and asked him to ride ahead and find the easiest path to and from the Roman estate. He was glad to leave the others company. He liked and respected them mostly, but he preferred the solitude of riding alone.

His mood lifted as he prepared to ride off. But something was digging at the back of his mind. A feeling of doom just beyond reach. He tried to put a name to it but couldn't remember seeing any signs that could explain it. Usually he could figure it out by back tracking. Some sign he had unconsciously picked up on that explained why he knew something was about to happen. But not this time. Shrugging, he rode on with the knowledge that whatever happened, he'd handle it one way or another.

Tristan caught back up with Arthur at the estate. He rode up to tell him what he'd seen of the Saxons and the best way to go back without running into them. It was an entire army after all. Looking around he noticed all the people making preparations for travel. "Arthur, who are all these people?" he asked, already knowing the answer. After hearing Arthur's answer he said, "Then we'll never make it!" He had to say it even if he knew it wouldn't matter. Arthur had already dismounted and gone in the direction of a small rock building. It appeared that two monks were walling up the entrance with rocks and mortar, under the watchful eye of two mercenary soldiers. It was odd and he knew Arthur didn't trust odd. He nudged his horse forward just behind Arthur and prepared to do what he was good at – protect his leader.

As Arthur and his Knights rode from the estate Tristan was still trying to put a name to the feeling that kept getting stronger. He wanted to believe it had something to do with the Woad woman Arthur had saved inside the rock building, but he knew that was not it. He shook his head to clear it and looked around the caravan. They came to a small open field between the road and the line of trees at the edge of the forest as Arthur came riding up to him. The snow that had started to fall had steadily been getting harder and Arthur wanted to stop for the night. This was the best place as far as he could see and he explained that to Arthur. As the small caravan prepared to stop for the night, Arthur again asked Tristan to ride ahead to make sure it was still safe.

Chapter 3

Tristan started off at full gallop to get as far as possible before the light gave way. Then he slowed so he could hear what he could not see. Between his keen senses and the eyes of his hawk he knew he'd be aware of anything dangerous long before it was a threat to him or the caravan. But with each step of the horse the feeling that doom was around the next curve grew increasingly profound. Once or twice he stopped to lean one way or another to listen for an imagined sound. But he always moved on after a minute. There was no sound except the wind and he almost smiled at the thought of being spooked by a feeling.

He stopped again, leaning toward the forest and listened for the sound again. There it was, a whimper. Someone was whimpering in the darkness just inside the line of bushes at the edge of the forest. He pretended not to hear it and rode on forming a plan to circle back on foot and find out who was behind that sound. The road ahead curved sharply to the left. He rode around the curve far enough that he was out of sight of anyone who might be watching and nocked an arrow to the bowstring. He dismounted and let the reins fall. He knew his horse was well trained and would remain until he returned or come to him if he whistled.

As Tristan moved toward the place where he had first heard the sound, he stopped and listened. There was no longer any unusual sound. He stood perfectly still and watched the shadows for any movement. There, just in front of him, the leaves moved. It was too high up on the bush to be a small animal and as he had seen no sign of larger animals he was sure it had to be the person behind the whimpering. He listened carefully and heard the sound again. This time it was much louder and was cut off in mid-moan

Someone was hurt and trying hard not to cry out. Or he was walking into a well-planned trap. He knew the Woads were capable of setting such a trap, but they were still too far north to be bothered by Woads again unless they had been following all along. He knew better, since he would have seen something if they had.

A man was standing beside the tree wielding a sword, ready to fight. Surprised that the man had caught him in his stealth, Tristan aimed his arrow and said in an almost too quiet whisper "drop your sword or you'll be dead before the first swing of your blade". The man watched Tristan for a moment before dropping his sword.

As the sword hit the ground, the man fell forward onto his knees and cried out sharply in pain as his knees hit the ground. Tristan started forward to pick up the sword but stopped at the sound of the cry. This was not a man; the cry was that of a woman! He cautiously moved forward and loosened the pull on his bow.

The woman moaned softly, making a sound that could have been a baby's cry. He un-nocked his arrow and knelt beside her. Before he had completed the motion, a knife was in the hollow of his throat. "Move and I will kill you," she suddenly said in a much stronger voice. "Drop your bow and step back." In one fluid motion she stood up and picked up her sword. As she was getting up Tristan noticed the broken arrow shaft sticking out of her left shoulder. She was hurt and the cry he had heard must have been her breaking off the end as she tried to pull it free.

"I don't intend to harm you", he whispered amazed that she could hold back the cries of pain he saw on her face. "How long has that arrow been in your shoulder?" "That's not important", she said through her clenched teeth. "Just back away and leave. I don't want to kill, but I will if forced." Of that he had no doubt, but he also didn't doubt that if he did leave she would die. She looked about to pass out and without help she would never wake up.

She stepped forward a small step and tried to kick his bow where he could reach it. She guessed he would not leave without his weapon and since he had not tried to fight her in her weakened state she didn't think he really wanted to. Her foot caught on an exposed root and she lost her balance and fell to her knees again. The motion jarred her shoulder and she cried out. As she did, she closed her eyes, but only for a second. Not long, but long enough for him to grab her sword arm. In her weakened state the sword fell free from her grasp and she fainted, either from the pain or from loss of blood. He wasn't sure because she was so pale and her shirt was covered in dried blood. She wasn't wearing any kind of cloak or coat and she was shivering from the cold.

Tristan moved closer and knelt beside the woman. He took a moment to look at the wound and realized it had been there for several days. It didn't appear to be too deep. It probably hit bone, which was lucky. He could remove it without doing a lot of damage. But not here. The area around the broken shaft was swollen and discolored. Not too bad, but not good either. He needed fire to disinfect his knife and water to wash the wound. He couldn't just leave her, as much as he desired to. For at that moment he noticed the feeling he'd been nursing since they left on this mission was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. Now he knew, she was the key.

He bent down, wrapped his cloak around her and gently took her in his arms. He was surprised at how light she was. She was almost as tall as he and with the man's clothing she was wearing she appeared bigger. He realized she was padded with something stuffed inside her shirt and trousers. Either by accident or on purpose she had given the illusion of being more formable than she actually was. He found himself leaning toward the second option, or hoped it was so. Why, he did not know and now was not the time to ponder it further. He softly whistled and heard his horse give an answering snort as he moved toward his master.

Arthur would just have to understand why he had turned back before he'd finished his mission. He had to get her some help.

She wasn't heavy but it was awkward trying to mount his horse with her in his arms. Twice when he tried to grab the saddle horn he had jostled her hard enough to make her cry out. She never opened her eyes, which meant if the pain was bad enough for her to feel it while unconscious, it must really hurt. He slowly turned toward the direction of the caravan and then picked up speed

He was sure Fulcinia would be able to help. Even the Woad woman probably knew how to dress a battle wound. He knew how, but he had never taken care of a woman. He wasn't sure he could stand to see the pain reflected in her eyes if he tried to remove the arrow.

It frightened him when he realized what he had been thinking. He had killed women in battle without flinching – but then this was not a battle. True she had held him at knifepoint but she had not actually tried to kill him. He was surprised when he looked down at her and found her looking at him with big, green eyes.

She didn't have a look of fear nor did she seem to be in great pain. She looked curious. When he tried to explain that he was taking her to someone who could help, her only acknowledgement was when she raised her hand and gently touched his cheek. Her expression seemed to soften and then she closed her eyes and let a small sign escape her mouth. She nuzzled into him and he knew she trusted him not to hurt her further. Why this thought brought him pleasure he didn't know. He only knew it did.

Chapter 4

As Tristan came riding into the camp he noticed tension in the way the other knights were standing holding their swords. He also noticed that Dagonet's stance was battle-ready and the Woad woman had an arrow nocked to her bowstring. Flanking her on either side was Lancelot and Arthur, both casually holding their swords.

Fulcinia was kneeling beside her husband with her son at her side. Tristan just then noticed the arrow sticking from his chest. It seemed there had been trouble. Before anyone could speak he yelled for Arthur. "She's been hurt and needs help". Tristan handed her to Dagonet who placed her on his own pallet. Fulcinia stood up and walked over to them.

Arthur and Tristan kneeled down beside her and Arthur looked questioningly at Tristan. He explained how and where he had found her, which seemed to pose more questions than answers with the knights. Her manner of dress was unknown to them. Who was she and where did she come from?

Guinevere moved closer and touched the arrow shaft. "This belongs to my people", she stated simply. Tristan moved to block her when his newfound charge flinched at the touch. Gawain, standing behind Tristan, looked at Lancelot standing on the other side of the group and raised a questioning eyebrow at Tristan's unusual attitude toward the woman. The other knights had only seen Tristan be concerned when it concerned his horse or more so his hawk. Now the important thing was to remove the arrow so the wound would heal.

Arthur asked Guinevere what the best way to remove the arrow was, since she was familiar with the design. She told them the best way would be to push it on through since the arrowhead was designed to stop about halfway through thus doing more damage when pulled out than going in. This would cause considerable pain and the wound would bleed again, but it would heal much faster and more completely than the other way. Realizing she was right, Tristan made to stand up out of the way so they could get to it before she woke up again. He had thought she was still unconscious but she grabbed weakly at his sleeve and softly whispered the words, "you – please."

Tristan knew she was asking him to be the one who inflicted any pain. He looked into her eyes for a long moment and settled back down to do as she asked. For some reason he didn't understand nor try to understand, she trusted him. He gently touched her cheek with the back of his forefinger and she seemed to steel herself for the pain that would come.

Tristan placed one palm against her back just beneath where he thought the arrowhead would come through, and with the other he readied himself to give one hard push on the broken arrow shaft. He looked into her eyes as he pushed. She clenched her teeth and a hiss escaped her lips. She never cried out or closed her eyes. As the arrow point broke through her skin she fainted and Tristan was relieved that she no longer felt the pain.

He stood up and wiped her blood on his trouser legs. When he raised his head he found Lancelot standing beside him and prepared for the usual cutting remark. But to his surprise, all Lancelot did was slap him gently on the shoulder and walk away. "Just when you think you know a man," Tristan thought.

For the first time in what seemed a lifetime he wished he had a bottle of wine and a dark corner in which to drink it all.

Chapter 5

Deadric opened her eyes to find her savior sitting beside her pallet. She could feel the movement and knew that she was in some kind of wagon. From the feel of it, she was in a very slow moving wagon. She didn't know how long she had been out of it, but the sun was in the sky and she could see from the light that filtered through the windows. He seemed unaware that she was awake so she took a moment to get a closer look at the man who had obviously saved her life. He looked tired and he seemed to be waging some internal battle from the expressions passing swiftly over his features. The previous night seemed foggy. Like when you first wake up from a nightmare.

He was definitely the same man, but he seemed different somehow. Less fierce, less dangerous. Last night she had never been so frightened in her life than when he told her to drop her sword. Not because he had yelled, but because he had whispered it. He sounded like her father, so sure of the outcome he found no reason to raise his voice.

His demeanor had frightened her and she had closed her eyes for a moment to wipe his face from her mind. Luckily she had regained her composure just in time to draw the dagger she carried. She remembered with satisfaction the look of surprise on his face and tried to make herself believe if she had not been hurt she could have held her own in a fair fight. But to be truthful she doubted it. She was sure he had killed many times without hesitation and would do so again. Even with that thought she didn't think she had to be afraid.

He picked that moment to glance at her. She was a little embarrassed he found her studying him like some creature never before seen. She blinked and half-smiled. He leaned over to ask how she was feeling and she simply said, "Deadric". He didn't seem to understand what she meant but before he could ask what she had said she said, "my name is Deadric. I thought you might like to know the name of the woman whose life you saved."

She then raised her hand to her forehead palm out as if in some kind of salute and said "thank you for my life, which is now yours to do with as you wish". She then kissed her fingertips and placed them on his forehead. Her hand dropped to her lap as she closed her eyes.

Tristan didn't know how long he sat looking at her face, now so peaceful in sleep, pondering what she had meant when the wagon stopped and Arthur stepped in. Arthur looked at the woman and then at Tristan. "Is she well enough for you to ride ahead and report?" he asked. Tristan nodded slowly, glad that Arthur seemed to understand his need to be close to her.

As Tristan was about to mount his horse he stopped and walked over to where Lancelot was sitting by himself. He asked him to take care of his charge until he returned. He didn't know why but he guessed it was because Lancelot had not made a joke of how he had taken over caring for her.

Lancelot hid his surprise at both the fact Tristan had asked him and the fact that he seemed to care at all. Lancelot wordlessly turned to go toward the wagon when Tristan called again to him. He stopped but didn't turn around. "Tell her I'll return soon" and almost as an afterthought "her name is Deadric". Lancelot again started toward the wagon as Tristan rode away. He couldn't help but wonder at the sudden change in the man. "Just when you think you know a man", he thought.

Lancelot had not left the woman's side and she had never opened her eyes when Tristan climbed into the moving wagon. He had indeed come back "soon". This time, Lancelot was not surprised to see Tristan's eyes glued to her face as he climbed into the wagon. He expected it somehow. He marveled at how easily one man adapted to the changes in another known for so long. He left the wagon pondering why it was so hard to accept change in one's self.

Chapter 6

By the end of the next day Deadric felt well enough to sit up and breathe deeply enough to talk normally. The wound itself still was painful but she was much stronger.

She was sure the man who had saved her had not been to sleep even though he left her twice for an extended time. She could have asked the one that took his place but had decided against striking up a conversation. Conversation always led to questions and she didn't want to answer any questions. She wasn't sure she could have come up with a story at all, much less one anybody would believe. Even if she could come up with a plausible story, she didn't know if she could lie to the man who had saved her life. His manner spoke of honesty at all costs, and if she told him the truth, she wasn't sure what might happen.

How much did he know of her people? Had he heard about her father's fierce army and the terrible things they were doing? She knew the questions would come eventually. They always did, sooner or later. She would have to explain. Later was better. Much better.

While Lancelot sat with the woman he secretly called "Tristan's woman" he wondered that she never asked any questions. He had expected a barrage of questions about Tristan, as women were always trying to get information they could use to their advantage when they were interested in a man. This woman was definitely interested in Tristan. He saw it in her eyes each time she saw Tristan. But even when she was awake she never spoke to him. She just watched him without emotion. It made him feel uncomfortable and he welcomed the interruptions when Arthur came in.

Arthur never spoke to her, or tried to find out anything. He just looked at her for long moments, nodded to Lancelot and left. He always had a satisfied look when he left, like he had found out more without speaking than he had the right to know. But at least he took her eyes away from Lancelot, even if it was only for a moment.

Arthur was leaving the wagon for the second time with Lancelot close behind when Tristan returned. They nodded to him as they passed, but neither man said a word.

Deadric had started to think that maybe she was a prisoner since she was never left alone. Maybe she should talk to one of the men who came when "he" left. She might need to escape and information was her best ally to avoid capture. Her father used to tell her she could get more information without asking for it than any of his spies. She had a knack of sizing up a situation with little to go on. That was one talent she might have to rely on.

She was more than able to be up and about. She was either afraid to ask for fear of the answer or she was too comfortable the way things were. If she had to be truthful she would have to admit she had felt safe and comfortable. Until now. As the questions were forming in her mind about her position with this group of strangers, she remembered her father saying, "Comfort is dangerous. It makes you do or say things that will come back to haunt you later".

It was time to prepare for a different course of action. One that she was reluctant to take for a reason she didn't want to dwell on. But one she would eventually take just the same.

She kept watching the man sitting by her pallet. He seemed to be dozing but she couldn't help but feel it was only an act. He was just waiting for her to do or say something. She was just getting the nerve to try to talk to him when the third man she had seen, again stepped into the wagon. For a moment when he looked at her she felt fear and then he nodded and left again. She wasn't afraid he'd hurt her in any way. She was afraid he knew who she was.

He had eyes the color of sword steel and the look he gave her seemed to drill a hole right through her brain. For the first time she realized how foolish she was to think she could keep her identity a secret. She decided to get away as soon as possible and knew that as long as Cerdic's army was on this island she would have to avoid any contact with people.

She needed information. She couldn't leave if she didn't know where she was to begin with. The first thing she needed to find out was "his" name. It was always easier to get information if you called them by name.

Deadric had just finished that thought when "he" entered the wagon. He had been gone longer this time than before and she was so relieved to see it was him that tears sprang to her eyes. For only a moment she thought she saw anger cross his face. She must have been wrong because he came over and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. For some reason the gesture only made the tears come harder. He leaned down and kissed away a second tear as it ran down. Deadric put her arms around his neck and rose up to a sitting position. When she raised her face to his she saw the flicker of desire and then it was quickly hidden behind his eyes.

She rose a little higher and kissed his lips gently before laying her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating beneath her ear and felt safe for the first time that day. Why she should be so open about her trust of him she didn't understand. She looked again at the man she called her savior and whispered, "Am I not to know the name of the man I have come to love?" When he didn't answer she continued, "it must be love, for my father was the only man to bring such joy upon his return that my eyes filled with tears, and I loved him dearly". His body stiffened and she made to move away from him. "Tristan", he whispered. "My name is Tristan". He gently stroked her cheek with one finger as he continued to speak. "I'm afraid you must have suffered from fever dreams. The man that I am you could never love".

Deadric gently kissed the lips that had spoken such hateful words. She quietly whispered his name "Tristan" and with a smile that made her eyes shine added "I think I know better the man that you are. Even better that you yourself." With that she gave him one final kiss that made the desire he had so carefully hidden resurface.

Perhaps it was the way she said his name more so than the kiss. All he knew was at that moment all he wanted was to be the man she thought he was and forever stay where he was, in the arms of the woman he knew he could love.

"Dreams only bring pain and disappointment. Never dream – just be". The words sprang unbidden to his mind. When the reality of what he had been thinking hit him he straightened suddenly. He stood up as much as possible in the wagon and turned to leave. Before he left he said without looking at her, "if you would like to get up and move about, feel free to do so. It seems you are well enough". He glanced back at her and hesitated for a moment. He then turned and climbed out of the wagon.

Tristan silently cursed his weakness at having to steal one more look at her before he left. The look of sheer pain on her face caused by the words he had spoken would haunt him for a long time. How easily he had been lured into a dream. He understood the other knights better at that moment than ever before. Even if he didn't understand their inability to conquer those feelings when he knew some things could never be.

Deadric was stunned at his sudden change. She still didn't understand why she had told him she loved him. She didn't mean to. It just came out of her mouth. The worst part was the realization that she was telling him the truth. She did love him.

How could that be? Hadn't her mother told her it had taken her years to fall in love with her father? How could it be love in the short time she had known him? She only now even knew his name! Maybe she did have fever dreams while she was sick! Her mother had never lied to her.

Chapter 7

When Deadric finally got the nerve to leave the wagon later that night, she found everyone except Tristan sitting around a campfire in the middle of several makeshift shelters. She squared her shoulders and prepared to face the others, glancing quickly around hoping to see him somewhere close by. As she walked up Lancelot noticed her and said. "So you felt well enough to venture out of your bed?" Deadric looked at the man and recognized him as her replacement caretaker. With a smile she hoped looked sincere she told him, "I thought it time I met the people responsible for taking care of me."

Surprisingly, all the men stood and turned to her. The third man she had seen walked toward her and said, "I am Arthur Castus, a Roman soldier and these men are my knights". She stated simply, "I am Deadric and I thank all of you for saving my life". She raised her hand toward her forehead.

Just in time she stopped herself and used her hand to wipe across her forehead as if wiping away perspiration. She had to be more careful. What if one of them recognized the gesture as a Saxon greeting? Arthur offered her a make shift seat near the fire. As she walked toward it the other men each gave her his name.

First was Lancelot, the man she recognized. She was sure he was a woman chaser like her father used to be. But that didn't concern her. Second was Gawain, a man with the most beautiful long blonde hair she had ever seen. Hers was almost that long but she didn't think she had ever seen hair as beautiful as this man. Third was Gallahad, he had the face of a boy until you looked into his eyes. His eyes had seen too much to belong to a mere boy. Fourth was Dagonet, he was a giant of a man with gentle eyes. Eyes that belied the scars across his face that spoke of deadly battles hard won. She thought she remembered him from the first night. She could never forget those eyes. Next was Bors, a burly man older than the rest if she had to guess. He had markings on his arms that appeared to be brands. She knew he would kill if given a reason. She made a mental note to be sure she never gave him one.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of another man. She turned in his direction and he told her his name was Jols. The other men looked at him and she thought him their equal. But his manner spoke "servant". Whatever his position, Arthur gave no indication he was other than another of his knights.

A woman she had not noticed before walked up to her and offered her hand. "My name is Guinevere. These brave men also saved me. We have much in common it seems," she spoke as if speaking to an old acquaintance which unnerved Deadric.

When Guinevere didn't withdraw her hand Deadric realized she was waiting for her to stand up. Deadric hesitated. For some reason she realized that Guinevere was a bigger threat to her secret than the rest of them put together. Experience told her that women made much better spies, especially with other women.

She got up and followed anyway since she couldn't find a decent reason not to. Surprisingly Guinevere never seemed to be trying to get information. She was interested in her wound. She asked where, when and how she had gotten hurt. An unconscious memory sprang to her mind. "This belongs to my people".

That was the night she arrived and even though she was only half conscious she knew it was Guinevere that had spoken those words. Her people. She was one of the warriors that had so fiercely fought her brother's soldiers. They methodically killed all eight of the Saxon men without so much as blinking. Neither side had seen her. She knew that if she had been seen she would have died that day also. As it was, she almost did anyway, catching a stray arrow the way she had. She looked at Guinevere and the story came quickly.

"I was escaping the foreign soldiers when these warriors attacked. I hid in the bushes and was hit by a stray arrow". It wasn't really a lie, just not the truth. Guinevere looked doubtful for a moment and then asked. "Did the foreign soldiers kill everyone in your village, then? Your family?" Deadric answered simply, "They left nothing alive in the village". "That wasn't a lie at all", she told herself. Cerdic never left anything alive during a conquest. Not even livestock or pets.

"And the soldiers?" asked Guinevere. Posed as a half question, Deadric knew she really was asking, "Did my people kill all of the soldiers?" "They were all dead or dying when I passed out from the pain. When I woke up the pain was so bad I just stumbled away deeper into the forest. I didn't see the warriors leave." Guinevere seemed to accept this and quickly changed the subject. "She may be a warrior but I make a better spy", thought Deadric.

The other woman had not known she remembered her words that night, and she saw no reason to tell her. She would watch her tongue carefully around this woman.

Chapter 8

Tristan rode silently, constantly scanning the tree lines for any signs of danger. At a glance, he looked the calm, calculating soldier he used to be. But his thoughts were scrambled. One moment he was thinking of Deadric and the feel of her body next to his. The next he was wishing for a sign that would herald an upcoming battle so he could forget about her.

For the first time he felt regret about his life. He wished he could dream and make plans like the others. He envied their belief that the last 15 years was past and had no place in the future. But that was a fool's paradise. The past was more real than the present and the future didn't extend past the breath you were about to take. If luck had any place in his life she would be gone when he returned. To where he didn't even bother to ponder. It didn't matter. Just gone. Then maybe he could get on with things. He grunted with disgust. He had almost said life, but that implied something worthwhile.

Tristan rode on watching, ever looking for the first sign of trouble. All the while remembering every nuance of her face, her skin, and her smell. So deep in thought was he that he almost rode into the Saxon scouting party before he saw them. Only the cry of his hawk brought him back to the present. He dashed into the forest just in time.

So sure was the Saxons that they were alone they didn't even notice the rustling leaves where he had entered. As they marched past, Tristan was nocking his first arrow to the bowstring. He fired and the last of the three Saxons fell soundlessly to the snow packed trail, blood spreading outward from his body. He fired again and the next soldier also fell without uttering a sound.

The leader realized something was happening and raised a horn to his lips to give a warning. Before he could Tristan dropped him with a third arrow, all the while registering the fact that if the army was close enough to hear that warning he needed to warn Arthur so they could pick up their pace. So far they had been lucky, but it seemed that luck was running out.

Tristan realized that this was the first time he'd rather run than fight. A very disturbing thought for a man who, until this moment, had always looked forward to the fight most of all.

Tristan turned his horse quickly and galloped toward the caravan. It wouldn't be long before he caught up with them. He was certain that Arthur would stop for the night since there had been no threat to their group. But even if they traveled all night, the caravan could not move fast enough to outdistance Tristan at the pace he set for himself.

Chapter 9

Deadric woke from a fitful sleep to the sound of a horse galloping into the camp. It took a moment for her to register that it must be Tristan returning and not an attack. She knew Arthur's knights kept watch all night and someone would have raised an alarm. But if this was Tristan it could not be good news at the speed he had arrived.

She threw her cloak over her shoulders and stepped down from the wagon, momentarily forgetting her bare feet. She cursed beneath her breath and reached back in for her slippers. She put them on in mid stride and came to a stop behind Gawain as Tristan threw down the horn and cross bow. There was no way to mistake the items for anything other than Saxon. The markings were too unique.

Tristan was speaking to Arthur, "They are close and getting closer. They will not stop for the night and will be here before morning. We must move now." Bors yelled something across the camp that Deadric could not understand. But when Tristan answered, "only three". She realized he was talking about how many of the Saxons he had killed. "Three of my people are dead by the hand of the man I love and all I feel is relief that he returned safely".

The rest of the army was swiftly catching up. She wondered if her father would even know she was with the caravan before she died with the rest. Would he care? It didn't matter either way. As much as she loved her father, she realized she would kill him herself before she would let him or his soldiers kill these brave men. Especially Tristan, the one man she would proclaim her love for even as she drew her last breath.

The caravan quickly began moving. Deadric was impressed by the way Arthur and his knights had rallied everyone together. From somewhere Jols came up and offered her the reins of a horse. She took them and smiled. Showing the many days of riding her father's horses, she stepped into the stirrup and swung into the saddle effortlessly. Jols nodded his approval and handed her the sword she had been carrying when Tristan had found her.

Somewhere in her mind she noted that she had been right to take a sword from the hand of a dead villager instead of her father's arsenal. Glad there were no Saxon symbols to match those on the horn or crossbow. Anonymity was her most precious possession right now.

Deadric rode up to the two knights closest to her. Dagonet paused and looked at her then bowed his head and returned to their conversation. Gawain seemed to want to say something to her, but instead he said to Dagonet, "with luck we'll stay one step ahead of them until we reach the fortress," Dagonet nodded his head and added, "without luck we'll have to come up with a plan to ensure our charges arrives safely or returning won't be an option."

The silence that followed that last statement made Deadric wonder just who their "charges" were. Not that it really mattered, she had already formed the beginning of a plan and it didn't include anyone but her.

By giving her the horse, Jols or Arthur or whoever had decided she should ride had given her the answer to her only problem, how to get away. She silently saluted her guardian ancestors, for only their intervention could have arranged things so completely in her favor.

Chapter 10

Cynric and his infantry came upon the bodies of his scouts. As he looked at them he wondered how they could have been killed so quickly when there was only one set of hoof prints in the snow. There had to be more, they just didn't come to the scene. They must have sent one man to make sure they had done their job. That was the only explanation for his scouts were good at what they did. What they used to do. His resolve to catch up with the Roman family became harder.

This time he would prove to his father that he could be trusted to lead the men. He knew his father wished he were more like Deadric. His lip curled at the thought of her. How dare Cerdic think a woman could be better than he? He smiled at the memory of his father's rage when he handed him the bundle she had left in the woods. He did feel sorry for the soldier standing next to Cerdic. His death served a purpose. It opened Cynric's eyes to the fact that his father would find a way to blame someone else for her betrayal.

Cynric knew his father loved his sister. He had seen the love in Cerdic's eyes when he looked at her. More love than he had ever shown Cynric. He hoped he found her first so he could give Cerdic her head, as was his right as successor to the throne. Otherwise, she would get off without being punished for her crimes. She always did.

Cynric ordered his soldiers forward. It hadn't been long since his scouts died. They were only a few miles behind the scouts and they had made good time. Cynric actually felt like running. He was sure this time he would be victorious.

Tristan came galloping up to Arthur. "Come with me" he almost demanded. Arthur and the other knights made to follow him. Deadric waited only a second before following the others. She knew this was her chance to go the other way, but she had to see what made Tristan be so abrupt with Arthur. She understood when she arrived where they others were sitting on their horses surveying what appeared to be a frozen lake.

At least the part she could see looked frozen. "No we must cross here" he was saying to Arthur when she came up next to him. He never even looked her way as he dismounted. She kept telling herself he wasn't avoiding her. Of course not, he was just gone a lot scouting for Arthur. That was what he did.

Who was she kidding? He had been avoiding her. Very effectively, she thought to herself. She had professed her love to him only days after meeting him. Before she even knew his name! How stupid could she be?

The small caravan inched forward across the ice, as the Saxon drums grew louder heralding their imminent approach. The knights stopped and listened. Arthur turned his horse around and the inevitable fight was clearly on his face. "Knights" he said in the form of a question. One by one the knights gave they "ayes" and after a moment Arthur gave Jols the order to prepare for battle.

Deadric wanted to tell Arthur to go ahead and leave. She would stay behind and talk to her brother while they made their escape. If they had found the letter she had left behind, Cynric would want to kill her to exact revenge. If her father were with him he would likely be the one to spill her blood. But she kept standing there staring at the ice. She couldn't say anything. She couldn't bear to see the look of betrayal on Tristan's face. She had never lied to him. But she knew what she had told Guinevere had made its way back to him.

Jols brought her back to the present by touching her arm. "You must join the caravan and go on to safety," he said. When she opened her mouth to protest he continued, "Tristan gave the order, miss. He said no arguments and no excuses. I gave my word." She looked at him for a moment and then nodded as she headed back toward the caravan. Arguing would have done little or no good. If one of Arthur's men gave Jols an order he would see to it even if he had to tie her to one of the wagons.

As she rode away she looked over to Arthur and the other knights preparing for battle. She watched for a moment and saw Tristan look up at her. For a moment she thought he would call out to her but then he looked away. In her mind she bade him farewell and promised to make things right. But it would take help from all her guardian ancestors.

She strained to look back one last time and noticed that Guinevere was standing between Lancelot and Arthur. At least no one would rather face death than spend time with her. Deadric felt more dejected than she thought possible. She lowered her head and cried for all she had lost since running away. She came to this island with nothing and she knew that if Tristan died in this battle she would have nothing for the rest of her life. With that thought she realized she had nothing to lose. Tristan had made his feelings clear. "So what if I die at the hand of Cynric, my father or of loneliness?" Dead was still dead.

She turned around and urged her horse to walk as quickly as possible on the ice. With luck she could still get to Cynric before anyone else's blood was spilled. Deadric finally found the freedom she had run away to find.

Chapter 11

As the Saxon drums grew closer, Arthur heard someone on horseback coming from behind. As if on one body, everyone turned his head toward the sound. Arthur was surprised to see Deadric going in the direction that would put her between the Saxons and the knights. If her horse kept up the pace it was going, she would catch up to the army before it rounded the curve onto the ice.

Deadric saw Arthur raise his arm and heard him shout. But she didn't even acknowledge him. She saw Tristan start toward her. She slowed a little thinking to warn him away, and then tickled her horse's ribs to speed him back up. Her horse slipped momentarily but regained his footing and moved swiftly out of Tristan's reach. The horse stepped off the ice and picked up speed. She knew that now even if Tristan mounted his horse he could not catch her before she had confronted Cynric.

She rounded the curve and saw Cynric and his men coming toward her. At the sight of a lone horseman coming their way, Cynric called for them to halt. She was sure he didn't realize it was his sister. To keep the upper hand, she took a deep breath and let the battle cry of her ancestors roar from her mouth. She drew her sword over her head and smiled at the look on Cynric's face.

At least she would only have to fight him. By challenging him in this manner his men would not interfere or kill for revenge if she was the victor. That would be his final disgrace. If she managed to beat him, that was the question. She remembered her father's pride when in a mock battle she had defeated Cynric a few years earlier. She also remembered the hatred in Cynric's face when her father had called him a baby. Maybe hatred worked for you in battle. Deadric did not know. She had never been in an actual battle before. All she had on her side was determination, knowing that the lives of the people she had come to respect and even love depended on the outcome.

Deadric pulled up just short of running Cynric over. "So brother, I see in your eyes you want my head." Cynric sneered before saying "Father finally saw you as I've always seen you." Deadric dismounted and took a moment to steady her legs. They felt weak, and she was unsure whether it was from the ride or fear. She turned toward Cynric and raised her sword into the beginning position. "Just like father taught me," she thought absently.

With a growl Cynric swung his sword. Deadric countered the move and the clash of steel echoed across the frozen land. If Tristan hadn't figured out what she was up to before she was sure he knew now. Cynric delivered three sword blows in quick succession; Deadric easily countered all three adding a quick blow of her own. Cynric had not been expecting the last and almost didn't move in time. He did pull back one sleeve with a nice diagonal slash just below the elbow.

She did a pirouette preparing to deliver another blow to her brother when she saw the knights coming around the curve on foot. They all had their swords ready and even Guinevere had a smaller sword Deadric did not remember seeing before. She stopped in mid turn to shout a warning to stay back. She forgot her brother's penchant for cheating and before she could either warn the others or finish her turn Cynric struck a blow to her head. Luckily, the blade turned slightly and the broad side hit instead of the edge. The blow that was meant to kill only knocked her to her knees. Seeing what was going on, Arthur gave the signal to stop.

Tristan seemed to rock back and forth a few times unsure whether to obey the order or ignore it and go to her. Before he had time to make his choice she rolled forward out of the reach of Cynric's sword and jumped up. She yelled over her shoulder and hoped the knights heard her words, "stay back, he's mine by right!"

Tristan had made his decision. He still feared for her but he knew if he advanced she would lose her concentration and die before he could reach the battle. He watched Cynric lunge for Deadric but she deftly jumped aside and made her own move. The blade struck Cynric on the shoulder. Cynric reached up and grabbed his shoulder and pulled back his hand covered with blood. "Good," Tristan thought, "she has brought first blood."

But why was she fighting at all? What did she mean, hers by right? Arthur had told him the Saxons had left no one alive in her village. Who had they killed that could cause so much hatred? If she survived he meant to have answers to these and any other questions he could think of. If she didn't, well, he made sure to get a good look at the man he would kill.

As Tristan watched the battle he thought Deadric was slowing down. She was either getting tired or the blow to her head had done more damage than he thought. She struggled to raise her sword over her head. He moved to go to her and Arthur shouted, "hold!" He stopped and shot Arthur a pleading look, even as he knew Arthur was right. It was torture to stand helpless and watch the woman he loved battle for her life.

It hit him like the blow of a battleaxe that he really did love Deadric.

Just when Deadric thought she couldn't fight any longer, Cynric turned to his men and gave the order to fight. Even by cheating he hadn't been able to defeat his sister. His men looked from him to each other but made no move. This enraged Cynric and he threatened to kill them all. Finally, his second in command spoke up. "By our laws we cannot enter the fight until you have killed the one who challenges you."

In a fit of fury Cynric lost control and ran toward Deadric. Before he could complete the move of swinging his sword over his head, Deadric plunged her sword through his heart. With a shocked look he stumbled, fell forward and didn't move. Deadric raised her sword over her head and announced, "I, Deadric, claim this army as my own, by our law only the king can wage war against me."

What happened next shocked the knights into watching with gaping mouths. The Saxon army dropped to their knees and in one voice said, "Hail the victorious Deadric, daughter of Cerdic, king of the Saxons".

Deadric knelt down beside her brother's body and touched his face gently. In her mind he was the little boy trying so hard to impress their father. She smoothed his brow and said quietly, "There now, Cynric, everything is alright now." Standing up, she wiped her eyes and stepped forward and spoke to one of the men. With that she turned and headed for her horse leaving her sword through the heart of her only brother.

She had to talk to Tristan. To answer the questions that had finally come. She mounted and turned toward the knights. The Saxons stayed on their knees until she had gone more than halfway. Then they stood up, gathered Cynric's body and turned back the way they had come.

Chapter 12

Tristan realized his mouth was still open and closed it with a snap. He looked from Deadric to Arthur and back. What did they mean 'daughter of Cerdic, king of the Saxons'? Tristan stepped forward intending to get the answers he needed. She had pledged him her life to do with as he saw fit. The least she could do was give him some answers.

As Deadric prepared to dismount, Arthur stepped forward and bowed, "it seems we have been in the presence of royalty, Knights. We must show the proper respect for a princess." Each knight bowed in turn and Deadric looked each one in the eye as they raised their heads. She was unsure if they were being sarcastic or not but she had learned a lot by watching her mother. You always treated any show of respect with the attitude that it was to be expected whether it was in jest or not. Otherwise you gave the impression people had the right to make fun of you.

She finished dismounting and then bowed her head for a moment. Raising it she said in the best imitation of her mother's voice, "Arthur and his brave Knights. We are pleased your services were not required in today's battle, but we thank you nonetheless, for your offer to fight. Now we must go from this place. My father's army will be coming soon and I am not prepared to face him just yet." With that she turned and prepared to mount her horse. Stopping, she turned back to Arthur. "Before we ride, would you like to ask any questions or would you rather wait until we reach our destination?"

Arthur hesitated only a moment before giving his answer. "We can talk as we ride, My Lady". It seemed this Roman soldier wanted answers as well as wanting to get back to the wall. She nodded her agreement, mounted her horse and proceeded to where Jols was keeping Arthur and the other knight's horses. Arthur noticed the look of reproach Jols gave her for not obeying the orders entrusted to him. Arthur decided it would be best to let him know who she was before he gave that "look" a voice. "Jols, please meet Princess Deadric, daughter of Cerdic, king of the Saxons".

Under different circumstances the look on Jols face would have been funny, but Arthur remembered that only moments ago all the knights had mirrored that look.

The group mounted their horses and started for the fortress. With luck the caravan would already be there, and Bishop Germanius would have the knight's discharge papers waiting.

Arthur sent Tristan ahead to scout the way while he and Deadric rode a little ways in front of the other knights. Deadric knew they wanted answers as well, but for the moment she felt better just talking to their leader. Arthur could tell them as much or as little as he wanted later. She would tell Tristan in person as soon as she could arrange it.

Arthur rode silently for a moment and then looking at her he raised a questioning eyebrow. She answered his questioning look with a question of her own. "Shall I start at the beginning or would you like to ask specific questions? I now give you confirmation that all you heard is the truth." "From the beginning, I think," replied Arthur. "You never denied your heritage, so I thought it safe to assume it was the truth. But I appreciate your candor."

Deadric began to speak, something in her voice sounding very far away. Almost as if she were remembering the events as she told them. "My father is a conqueror. He feels he must destroy a people before they are truly conquered. It has been the subject of many arguments between us. I finally grew tired of the horror stories and started running away when I was a mere 16 years old. My father's guards always found me and brought me back.

The last time this happened was last year. That's when he decided to offer my hand in marriage to his friend, King Arno who is of the same age as my father. He knew Arno would be much harsher with me. It was what he thought I needed to tame me, as he put it. That's when I decided to stow away on one of father's ships during his next conquest. I would start a new life in a place where no one knew who I was. It was working fine until I got hurt and met Tristan."

She paused and Arthur said, "You knew Cerdic's army was destroying villages all along the coast of Britain. What did any of us say or do that made you think you had to lie to us after we had helped you recover from a deadly wound? We helped you without asking any questions regarding that wound. We gave you the benefit of the doubt. Why didn't you just tell us the truth about yourself when you were well enough?"

Arthur's tone enraged Deadric. "You trusted me because I was a woman! If I had been a man I would not have been given 'the benefit of the doubt' as you say. After all, I was carrying a sword." Then her anger melted and lowering her eyes she said, "Part of me wanted to but being raised the daughter of a king I learned early to be suspicious of everyone around me. I didn't know what, if anything, you knew about the Saxons. For all I knew you might have killed me on the spot for the deaths my father had inflicted."

Arthur sounded tired, "Did you truly learn nothing of us while in our company? We never hold someone accountable for the sins of another."

"Deep down I did know that," she replied. "But I couldn't bring myself to say anything. When Guinevere gave me the idea that the Saxons had destroyed my entire village, I went with that." After a short pause she simply said, "I'm sorry, Arthur."

They rode in silence for several minutes and Arthur asked another question. "Why did you risk your life to battle your brother for us? Is it some intrigue of the court in your land?"

"I had to stop my brother from killing any of your knights. I came to this island with nothing and I would not leave it with the deaths of good people on my head." She decided to confide in Arthur. Not that it made any difference in what would happen in the future.

"I couldn't take the chance that Tristan would die at the hands of one of my people. He is a fierce warrior, but the Saxons can forget the rules of battle when it suits them. I love Tristan and I could not let him suffer because of me. I was also being selfish, with hope that he would someday come to love me."

Arthur did not answer her and she kept her head down, deep in thought. When she looked up she saw that Tristan was riding toward Arthur. As he drew up even with Arthur, he announced that the road home was clear. He gave Deadric a look she couldn't fathom and turned to ride back with the other knights.

Deadric turned to Arthur, "If you don't mind, I'd like to ride with Tristan for a while now. We need to discuss some things and I need to explain everything to him personally before he hears it from someone else. If you have need for further answers, I will gladly give them later." Arthur nodded and Deadric fell back to where Tristan was.

They rode to the side and waited for the other knights to pass. As Dagonet rode past he raised his hand in salute and smiled. Deadric raised her hand and smiled back. Watching the exchange Tristan realized the other knights had already accepted her as somewhat of an equal.

They had all been impressed with her abilities with a sword. Even Lancelot pointed out a couple of moves that he wanted to learn. After they had all passed he finally spoke, "You owe me nothing, I release you of any vows you have made. What I did for you I did of my own accord – you asked for nothing and I expect nothing as payment."

His tone had given nothing away of his feelings. Deadric smiled softly and asked, "Not even an explanation? Tristan, my darling Tristan, I have no more secrets. I will lay bare my soul for you." She paused and tried to read something in his face. Years of hiding his thoughts and denying his feelings made his mind impossible to fathom. "Ask me anything and I will gladly tell you all," she whispered.

In reply he simply moved his horse closer. She couldn't take her eyes from his as he reached over and pulled her from her saddle into his arms. His eyes seemed as deep as the ocean she had crossed to get to him. She felt she was going to drown but did not find the feeling a frightening one. Finally he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

"My beautiful warrior princess, you once told me you knew me better than I know myself. If that were true you'd know I love you more than life." He paused and then continued. "When we return to the wall, a Roman Bishop will give us our discharge papers, releasing us from 15 years of service to Rome. For the first time since I was a boy I dare to dream of a life without killing. Once I'm free will you marry me?" His eyes seemed to search her very soul for the answer he wanted.

When she only looked at him he continued "you asked for my name once and called me the man you love. Do you still love me?" She finally smiled and threw her arms around his neck. "I only dared to dream of this, I will marry you and love you for the rest of my life".

She leaned into him and offered her lips for a kiss. The kiss came slowly at first, them Tristan kissed her with such fierce passion that she longed for the kiss to be more. A moan escaped her lips and she was certain they must marry soon or she would become a spoiled woman. If he asked, she would give herself to him right then on the road to Hadrian's Wall.

Instead, Tristan reluctantly drew back and laughed. "We'd better go or I'll have to marry you just to make an honest woman of you. Besides I don't want to take a chance on angering your father by spoiling his daughter." The smile on her face suddenly disappeared and she became agitated. "Oh, Tristan, I forgot about the anger my father already feels. He will come for me."

Tristan laughed, not picking up on her agitation. "Good, then he an give you away at your wedding."

"You don't understand," she cried. "He won't be coming to give me away in marriage. It's more a possibility he will be coming to kill me for all the things I've done. At the very least he will take me home and make me marry King Arno! He'll kill anyone who gets in his way and that's why I fought Cynric. Not for position or power – I couldn't let him kill you or any of the others." Tristan looked into her eyes and saw she was truly worried. "We need to get to the fortress so I can tell Arthur. We'll decide then what our options are."

They rode in silence each lost in their own thoughts. Tristan still held her in his arms, her horse reined to his saddle horn. When they reached the wall, the gate was still open and they rode through. They left the horses in Jols capable hands and went in search of the other knights.

As was usual after a mission they were sitting in their favorite place each with a drink in hand. Lancelot and Gawain looked at them with a knowing smile. The fact that they were hand in hand was not lost on any of them. "Where's Arthur?" Tristan asked. "We need to tell him that the Saxon army of Cerdic will be arriving soon and we're not sure exactly what his intentions are." The other knights leaned forward eagerly. After 15 years of battles, they had not had to fight in weeks. They were like someone addicted to some drug they couldn't get anymore.

As Tristan and Deadric turned toward Arthur's quarters the rest of the knights finished their drinks and proceeded to follow. Deadric was just finishing her tale when they arrived. Arthur looked around the room. Finally he spoke, "Whatever happens we will not allow more killing of innocent people. Spread the word and prepare the people to travel south away from the wall. Bishop Germanius gave me each of your discharge papers minutes ago and is now preparing to leave for Rome."

"Rome holds nothing for me now and Guinevere has agreed to become my wife. I now embrace my mother's and Guinevere's people as my own. I will fight for their freedom as I once fought for Rome. I cannot ask any of you to stay, but I will not leave." He paused giving each knight time to digest his words. Then he continued, "each of you are welcome to join us but I will understand if you decide to go." With that he walked out of the room toward Guinevere. She needed to get word to her father so he could prepare.

Behind him he heard the knights beginning to argue about their choices. Even though each could make up his own mind they had made decisions together for too long to change now. Arthur wanted their answers but couldn't bear to stay in case his presence influenced them. He knew the chance of victory was much greater with all the knights together. They had fought together for so long they were almost as one giant fighting machine. Each knew the other's style and tactics so well they could be scattered all over a large battlefield and still manage to be at the side of any one who needed help.

Chapter 13

Nightfall came and Arthur still had not heard from the other knights. Tristan was the only one he knew would not leave, Deadric had taken that option from him. The others seemed to think the Saxons would not come at all. Deadric had told Arthur that would not be the case. He believed her and was not surprised when Jols called him to the wall. Below there seemed to be a thousand flickering lights. Small campfires set next to each of the many soldier's tents. A scene easily recognized by any who fought wars for a living. Cerdic had indeed come, and from the look of it, had brought his entire army.

Deadric had told him that Cynric's army would have returned to the ships as she had ordered them. She was now their commander. The suggestion that they send for them was dismissed with the explanation that upon seeing Cerdic, they would return to his forces. Their loyalty was ultimately to the Saxon king, which was as it should be. Things had indeed taken the turn toward disaster Deadric had predicted. For a woman, she was an astute leader and would have made a suitable queen, had the Saxon laws permitted anyone other than a male to lead.

Deadric looked across the wall and felt the rock that had settled there explode in the pit of her stomach. "He has come", she whispered. Tristan was standing too far away to hear her, but Gawain heard the words as well as the tone. He then knew his decision had been made. He had never run from a fight and truthfully, he needed one.

At that moment, Arthur walked away from the wall and faced the others. "Knights," he started, "my time with you is ended. I cannot go with you. May God go with you and protect you." With that he turned and walked down the steps and away from the wall. Guinevere hesitated only a moment and followed. Lancelot moved as if to follow them and stopped. He took a moment to look from one knight to the other and sadly shaking his head he, too, turned and left the wall.

Lancelot knew that if they all left Arthur he would die. Even with that knowledge he could not put a voice to his decision. Each knight had to come to terms with his own decision without influence from anyone. He hoped the rest would realize what this battle could mean, both to Arthur and to them.

Deadric was standing, looking out at the encampment that held her father and a large number of her people. She wondered if she could find him if she slipped down there. She knew where his tent would be, but it would be almost impossible to get past that many Saxon soldiers without being caught. That's why he placed his tent in the very center of the camp. Maybe if she went to him and begged him to forgive her and spare these people he would be content to take only her or her life.

Maybe he still loved her enough to spare her life as well. Only she had seen the real Cerdic. Only she knew the father who had laughed readily at her antics as a small child and had comforted her when some hurt had sent her crying into his arms. He was a ruthless soldier, but she was his daughter, not some leader of a small, conquered country that had to be sacrificed to prove who was more powerful.

The laws she had quoted to Arthur and to Tristan were ancient, proclaimed by an early ancestor who only wanted to control the female members of his house. Cerdic was not that controlling. With the last thought, Deadric realized she had matured a great deal in the weeks she had been in Britain. If she had persisted in arguing with her father, she probably would have eventually made him realize she was right. Maybe she still could.

Tristan brought her out of her mental plotting by putting his arm around her waist. She leaned into him and he whispered, "Come with me to my room. We may only have a few hours to love a lifetime." They turned and walked away from the wall. As they passed the knights left pondering their choices she noticed they seemed to have resolved their conflicts. No one said anything, but their faces said their decisions had been made. She silently wished them happiness and a long life in whatever choice they had made.

The last knight she passed was Gallahad. Only he seemed to still be angry about something. He was the only one who was adamant about leaving. He truly hated Britain and all it stood for in his life. She hoped he could come to terms with the decision he had made, whatever it had been.

Chapter 14

Deadric gently moved Tristan's arm off her as she quietly slipped out of his bed. It would be daybreak soon and she could see the sky was already beginning to lighten to the east.

She had discovered much in the hours they had spent together. She smiled as she remembered. Tristan, a fierce warrior, was a surprisingly gentle lover. He had taken great care not to let long pent up passions cause her pain when he learned she was still a maiden. But it seemed only she was shocked at how bold and shameless she had been in her own passion.

Tristan had not complained, but her face grew hot when she remembered how she had offered her body to him without modesty or shame. She turned back to the bed and took one last look at the man she had given herself to so completely. With a sign she entreated all her dead ancestors to watch over him if things went ill with her plan. Then she quietly opened the door and walked away.

As early as it was, she was still sure that some would already be up and preparing for the battle they thought would come. She hoped she could slip past them without being questioned about her movements. She had found such a peaceful place in her heart when she had made the decision to go to her father. She knew it was the only way and it had left room to enjoy the feelings Tristan had awakened in her.

She made it through the fortress without incident, even though she thought she had heard shouts coming from Arthur's quarters. She didn't hesitate to listen. She didn't want to take the chance. She made it to the gate without seeing anyone and told the young boy acting as guard what she wanted. Since the Roman guards had left the day before, they were using local villagers to cover the entrances to the fortress.

She thought it would be easier to talk her way out but these people took their orders, given to them directly by Arthur, seriously. The boy finally agreed that she could go to tell her father about her impending marriage. He thought it a great idea to use the marriage to unite the two peoples. If only she had been able to believe it herself. She hoped he was not still on "duty" when Tristan woke up and came looking for her. She silently apologized just in case he was.

Tristan woke with a smile on his face remembering how Deadric had felt against his body. He had had women on many occasions but never like last night. With the others, he had made it clear from the beginning that it was never going to be anything but a form of release, a way to get past the killing and bloodshed. Last night he had given Deadric everything, least of all his body. She now possessed his heart, his soul and his future.

Deadric was a strong woman. He had known that from the beginning. But he hadn't expected her to be so brazen with her lovemaking. Not that he had minded. On the contrary, it was a pleasant surprise. He reached over to pull her to him for one last session before battle began and realized she wasn't in bed. Frowning, he looked around and realized her clothes were also gone. For a moment he thought maybe she had just gone to the privy, then he came to the realization that she was not coming back to him.

Tristan remembered the look she had on her face standing on the wall looking down on the army. His training as a scout had picked up on something yet again that his mind did not process, until now. She had gone to the camp to confront her father. Everyone had dismissed the offer when she had made it in Arthur's quarters. Damn it, why didn't she listen? He quickly got dressed and went to find Arthur.

Arthur and the other knights arranged to leave the fortress and go to the Saxon camp to rescue Deadric. As they rode toward the Saxon camp they saw that Deadric was standing just outside the camp talking to an older man. He was very tall with long hair and a long beard. As they got closer they could see that the resemblance to Deadric was unmistakable.

Because she didn't want to take the chance of running into Jols trying to get her horse, Deadric had decided to walk to the camp. It wasn't that far and maybe she would think of something to say that could influence her father. When she was close enough to be heard she called out, "I am the Lady Deadric, daughter to your king. I have come to plead my cause." She expected one of the centuries to answer instead she heard her father's voice. "Come forward so I can see your face. I feared my son would bring me the head of my daughter but he failed to return with it. He failed to return at all."

She felt a pang of guilt for the news she was about to give him. "Your son over-estimated his abilities, I'm afraid. It seems my father taught me better than he taught his son."

She stopped just out of reach of his Cerdic's sword and waited. Cerdic scanned her face and she thought she saw a glimmer of relief cross his features. Maybe it wasn't hopeless after all. At that moment she heard the sound of horses galloping from behind her. She turned and saw Arthur and his knights coming toward them at full gallop. Tristan was in the lead by at least a full length and the look on his face spoke of murder.

She quickly turned back to her father. "Please make me a promise in remembrance of the times when I was young and gave you cause for joy. The men you see riding to my rescue are good and honorable men. They have come to my rescue many times since I foolishly came to this island. The one in front saved my life when I was shot with an arrow and I have come to love him with all my heart." Cerdic seemed to ponder her words as the knights came up behind Deadric.

Cerdic watched closely as Tristan unsheathed his sword and dismounted. She whispered fiercely, "Please do not kill him". Tristan moved to come between Deadric and her father just as Cerdic answered her pleas. "The daughter whose love I lost was always too headstrong for her own good. My advisors warned me that my leniency with her would be my downfall. If I grant your wishes someone will challenge me for the throne thinking me old and soft."

He paused for a moment and still looking at Tristan, continued, "Having you dispose of the son that caused more embarrassment than pride has given me cause to again show leniency. You and your knights are free to go from this wretched place. My men will not try to hinder your retreat in any way."

Deadric found herself staring at the man she loved so much and had to fight the urge to sit down and cry. Instead she drew herself up to full height and in a voice as cold as she could make it she announced so all could hear. "Father I will not run from you and neither will these brave people. I am not afraid to die by your hand or the hand of any man!"

Having said that she began to walk toward her father with arms outstretched. "I do not believe you capable of striking down your own daughter for refusing to marry a man old enough to be her father." She stopped when she could no longer take a step forward. She placed her head on her father's chest and said, "Father, please leave this place and let me be happy with the man I love and will marry if I live through this day."

Cerdic watched Tristan walk toward him. He could see his knuckles turn white from the grip he had on his sword. He was preparing to step in and protect Deadric should Cerdic make a move to hurt her. This man had the courage he had wished for his own son and the fury barely hidden beneath the surface spoke of the capability to back up that courage.

Cerdic was tempted to make a threatening move toward Deadric to see that fury break through the surface. But he knew that Deadric would find it necessary to protect this man, even if it meant her death. He could see the love she had for him in her eyes and remembered a love long ago that he had forsaken because of his father. He had come to love the woman his father had presented to him, enough to produce a dozen children but he had always wondered what it would have been like to be with the woman he had truly loved.

He glanced from his daughter's love to the other knights. They seemed to be leisurely sitting and watching with little interest the exchange between them. He knew that to assume this to be true was foolish. They could be on him before he had taken his next breath if they felt the need. Cerdic fought the urge to take his daughter's face in his hands and spoke to the man his daughter professed to love. "Do you think yourself worthy of my daughter, the daughter of a king?" Before Tristan could answer he continued, "Do you think your blood strong enough to mix with her Saxon blood and produce a son capable of holding the Saxon throne?" He felt Deadric relax against his chest as Tristan began to speak.

"Whether I am worthy or not, your daughter loves me and I love her. I love her enough to offer you my life for hers." He paused at the gasp Deadric gave to his words, but before she could speak he continued, "My blood may not be Saxon but when I think of her it runs hot. If giving her my soul before today's dawn can produce a son, she now carries your grandchild within her womb."

Deadric felt her father stiffen at those last words and wondered what Tristan was trying to do. Cerdic then relaxed and quietly laughed the way he used to when she was young. Her head snapped up to look at his face. "Yes," he began, "I believe you are worthy and your blood is indeed strong. Why else would you flaunt the fact you spoiled my daughter?"

Tristan began to lower his blade into a more relaxed position as he spoke directly to Cerdic. "I desire nothing more than to make her my wife and spend the rest of my days ensuring her safety and most of all, her happiness. Having what appears to be the whole Saxon nation camped on our doorstep to witness this would make it a happier occasion for Deadric."

He continued, "Deadric wants her father to give her hand in marriage, along with his blessing. I would be honored to accept her hand from such a worthy soldier. I will also be willing to fight such a worthy opponent so as not to lose her love."

With that Cerdic threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Yes you will be good for my daughter. I have made my decision." He motioned for Arthur and his men to come closer. They dismounted and walked over to stand with Tristan. Cerdic began. "My daughter has spent many hours trying to persuade me to change our laws. She called them "outdated" and I now realize she has shown wisdom beyond her years. I give my blessing for a marriage that will make happy the one that holds the center of my heart in her palm."

Turning to speak directly to Tristan. "I offer my daughter's hand to you that you may share with her a long and happy life. All I ask in return is a strong grandson to take my place on the throne to rule the Saxon people." Before anyone else had a chance to speak, Tristan answered. "I cannot make such a promise." Deadric turned around to face Tristan.

Before she could speak he continued. "I have spent the last 15 years fulfilling a promise not of my making. I will not do this to my own son. But I can promise this, if my son wishes to accept your offer, I will do nothing to prevent it. That is all I can promise." He stiffened his posture preparing for the outburst he thought would come. Instead Cerdic looked at his daughter and said, "Maybe this man will do better at controlling you than I. If it were possible I would like to be close enough to watch him tame you, daughter, but I must leave as soon as you are married and give your mother the news of her daughter's wedding and her son's funeral." The last was said with a tinge of sadness, Deadric wasn't sure if it was for him or her mother.

With that statement he looked at Arthur and spoke, "We Saxons are a proud people, and to seal the bond between our two nations I offer my hospitality and free rein within my camp for you and your knights. It is an honor to finally meet the man whose name has haunted me since coming to this wretched island. I had begun to think you were some god, or ghost made of mist that would be forever out of my reach. Thankfully, you are flesh and blood and a great leader if the loyalty shown by your men is any gage."

Arthur, in turn, answered Cerdic by accepting his offer and giving the same offer of hospitality and free rein to the Saxon people. They all headed toward the fortress to start preparations for a wedding.

Deadric kissed her father on the cheek and ran into Tristan's waiting arms. He kissed her fiercely and held her so tightly she had to wriggle to loosen his grip. "Tristan," she whispered softly, "are you very angry with me?" He looked into her eyes for a moment, then kissed her gently on the lips before saying, "if you ever sneak out of my bed in the middle of the night to put yourself in danger, you'd better hope I don't find you. I swear I will give you the punishment your father regrets not doing."

Deadric smiled up at him and whispered, "Yes, my love. I never plan on leaving your bed at all if you wish it so." She looked at him and he saw heaven reflected in her eyes. A heaven he had not dared to wish for since he had left his land. Now he knew that if he had not come to this island he would never have found his life.