Morgan

When I reached the estate, people were milling about everywhere, packing up their few belongings as if preparing for a journey. I got a few stares as I rode up in men's clothes and armor, but most everyone was too busy to pay me any attention.

A Roman mercenary drew his sword when he spotted me. "Who are you?" he asked.

"You can relax," I told him. "I'm with Arthur and the knights."

He looked doubtful, and didn't sheath his weapon.

I saw several of the knights standing by a stone building. By the look of it, the rest of them were in the building.

I called out to them, and Bors turned at the sound of my voice. He beckoned me, and I gave the Roman mercenary a look that dared him to stop me. He put away his weapon and let me pass.

"What is this?" I asked Bors. "You're wasting time. You should be leaving."

"Don't tell me," he muttered. "Arthur can't leave well enough alone. See all those people? They're coming along."

"What's this?" I asked, looking at the building.

"It's some sort of temple," said Galahad. "Smells awful."

"Smells dead," Bors remarked.

As he said the words, I caught a whiff of the smell they spoke of and nearly vomited. It was the foul stench of decaying bodies. I caught my breath and managed to gasp out, "That's no temple. It must be a tomb."

Just then, Arthur emerged from the building carrying a pale woman dressed in rags. Dagonet brought out a little boy. Arthur called for water, and Horton brought him some. He then laid the woman on the ground and helped her drink. She choked on the water but looked grateful all the same. Horton took the water to Dagonet for the boy.

Gawain pushed several monks down face first in the snow in front of him.

Both the young woman and the little boy were obviously weak and in pain. The child had a broken arm, as were the woman's fingers.

I noticed the blue tattoos on the woman's legs. Woad tattoos. I had pitied her, but when I saw who she was, I felt only hatred for her. It was hard for me to decide who I hated more, Romans or Woads.

Tristan noticed as well. "She's a Woad," he said quietly.

Arthur did not reply. Instead, he spoke to the woman. "I'm a Roman officer," he told her. "You're safe now."

I don't imagine that I would have found those words very comforting if I was her, but she seemed reassured. She touched his cloak without speaking.

"You're safe," he repeated.

"Stop what you are doing!" cried an angry voice. A short little Roman man approached us, looking livid.

"What is this madness?" demanded Arthur.

"They are all pagans here!" the man yelled furiously.

"So are we," Galahad informed him.

"They refuse to do the task God has set for them! They must die as an example!"

"You mean they refuse to be your serfs!" Arthur cried.

I began to realize what the building was. From the way everyone was talking, it seemed to be a prison of some sort. Except, it seemed that the only crime committed was to disobey the Roman.

I quite suddenly didn't care anymore that the woman was a Woad. The Romans were far worse anyway, I decided. Only the lowest of human beings would torture and kill people for disobeying him.

It was easier for the knights, I suppose, to watch without doing anything. They were foreigners after all. Not me. For my part, I had to try very hard to prevent myself from attacking him. These were my people he was killing. Woad or not, the woman was a Briton, as was the little boy. And from the way they spoke, there were more, probably already dead.

A Roman woman knelt down beside the Woad and touched her gently. They seemed to know each other.

"You are a Roman," the man continued. "You understand. And you are a Christian!" Then he noticed the Roman woman. "You!" he yelled. "You kept them alive!" He slapped her across the face.

I drew my sword and stepped forward, but Arthur was nearer. He punched the man, causing him to fall to the ground, nose bloody. Then he drew his sword and held it at the bastard's throat.

Some Roman mercenaries were ready to come to his aid, but he stopped them. "No, no! Stop!" He looked at Arthur with loathing in his eyes. "When we get to the wall you will be punished for this heresy," he sneered.

"Perhaps I should kill you now and seal my fate."

A dirty-looking monk spoke up. Speaking to no one in particular he murmured, "I was willing to die with them. Yes, to lead them to their rightful place. It is God's wish that these sinners be sacrificed. Only then can their souls be saved."

I still had my sword out. I wanted to kill the vile creature then and there, and I probably would have if Arthur hadn't spoken.

"Then I shall grant his wish," he said calmly. He turned to the knights, "Wall them back up."

"Arthur-" Tristan began.

"I said wall them up!" he shouted.

The serfs began to obey, forcing the monks into the building. The one began to shout, but no one paid him any mind.

---

We rode east, behind Saxons lines, through a mountain pass. It was hard going, but it was the only way. The Roman, Marius was his name, was so unbearable that I was certain that if none of the knights killed him that I would. He disapproved of me, and didn't bother to hide it. In fact, he took every possible opportunity to make comments about me when he knew I would overhear.

I restrained myself quite well however, and managed to keep from decapitating him on the spot.

After a while, he got so awful, that if I'd had to listen to one more of his nasty comments I think I would have ran him through without warning. So, when Arthur asked Tristan to ride ahead scouting, I jumped at the chance to get away.

"I'll go too," I offered. "With the Saxons so close no one should go off alone."

"Tristan can take care of himself," Arthur told me.

"I've no doubts, but I'll feel better knowing he's not alone."

"Morgan," he said slowly, "What is it with you? You want to come along, then you refuse to follow orders."

"I refuse to follow orders that might endanger my friends' lives. I'll obey you Arthur unless I think that there is a better way. In this case, you've no need for me here, and Tristan may need help. Let me go."

"Fine," he muttered. You'll do what you want to anyway. Go."

So I did.

Tristan

I was glad to have Morgan along, though I wouldn't have admitted it to the others. I liked Morgan. I think a part of me even loved her. She had been my friend for a long time. I had told her things I would never dare tell anyone else, and she had confided in me many things I know she would speak to no one else of. Part of me knew that she was unreachable, but the other part did not care.

I think we all loved her a little bit anyway. She liked to think that we didn't have any feelings for her, but she was wrong. It was because, not in spite of her aloofness, that we all felt for her as we did. She could try all she wanted, to mean nothing to us, but she would fail simply because she tried so hard.

But despite our close friendship, we hadn't spoken much in a while. There was an invisible wall between us, and I could do nothing to tear it down. In truth, I didn't want to. She had built it up, and I considered it her responsibility to tear it down.

We rode for a time, not speaking, watchful of every sound. All was quiet. I didn't want to be the one to break the silence. To remove the first brick in the wall. I had nothing to say anyhow. Finally, she spoke.

"I need to talk to you."

I turned to look at her, "Haven't heard that in a while," I said, perhaps a bit harshly.

She didn't respond. We rode side by side in silence for a few minutes longer.

"What happened?" I asked when I saw that she was not going to continue. "We used to be friends."

"We are friends," she said, looking hurt.

"Not like we used to be."

She looked sad. "Things changed Tristan. You changed."

"No Morgan. You're the one who changed."

She seemed surprised. "Me?" she asked.

"You've changed since Gareth's death."

It was undeniable. Outwardly, she was the same as she had always been, but inwardly, she was changed, and only I seemed to notice. No one else knew her quite as well, so no one else could see the light gone from her eyes.

"Gawain's brother? He was my friend." She wouldn't meet my eyes.

"He was more than that. I saw. I saw the way you looked at him. I saw the way you were happiest around him. I saw your face when he died, Morgan. You looked like you had nothing left to live for."

"Maybe I didn't. Maybe when he died, he took my heart with him," she whispered.

"You changed that day. You lost your hope in life."

She shook her head. "It's not just me Tristan. You changed too. I don't know how or why, but you're different too."

"Maybe that's your fault.".

"Whatever I did, I'm sorry." She wasn't crying, but she looked as if her heart was breaking all over again. I reached out and touched her cheek. She looked up at me and a tear rolled down her face. I think that, for a moment, I saw something in her eyes. Something that I'd never seen before.

"Never lose your hope," I said quietly, brushing away the tear. Then, I'm not sure what possessed me to do it, I kissed her.

Thinking back on it now, I'm not even sure why I did it. It was a stupid thing to do, really. I'm not usually so impulsive, but the part of me that was in love with Morgan took control and I couldn't stop myself until it was too late.

Morgan was always kissing me. She was always kissing everyone. But this kiss was different, and she knew it. I cared for her no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, and that was a hard thing for her to accept.

Whatever I had seen in her eyes was gone. "No," she whispered, turning away from my kiss. "You're my friend, Tristan. Maybe my best friend But nothing more. I'm sorry." She looked even closer to tears than before, and I knew that she didn't want to hurt me. That was the last thing she wanted.

I didn't want to hurt her either. I already regretted the rash action. It was a stupid thing to think that Morgan, who was still in love with Gawain's dead brother, would love me. "So am I."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then she said, "We should get back to scouting."

I cursed. I had forgotten about scouting. It was not like me. I readied my bow, and looked around, as if being extra watchful could make up for my stupidity.

"Nothing," she said quietly, looking around as well. Her voice was even. She was completely calm, as if nothing had happened. I knew that, in her mind, nothing had happened.