Four.

I rolled over, and blindly put one of my hands out, meeting only sheets.

I cracked open an eye, and the sight of an empty bed met me. I scowled, and shut my eye again, scrubbing a hand across my face. I was tired, dirty and stubbly. And alone.

I had known that Arthur might feel differently during the day. I just hoped he wouldn't. And how strong the actual event hit me was a surprise even to me.

I never lacked for company…and I certainly could have my choice of bed partners. But none of them ever left me first.

Plus – and this I hated to admit – this cut deep. Arthur was my partner, my closest friend, and now my lover. To have him leave me without saying anything – that really hurt. And I didn't like being hurt.

Not by one whom I trusted as implicitly as I did him.

Grumbling, I sat up, and was greeted with the sun shining directly into my face. Biting off a curse, I moved to the other side of the bed, still warm from Arthur's presence. So he hadn't been gone very long.

I stood up, and cursed again when I stepped on one of my mailed gauntlets, which had somehow rolled to be right where I needed to step.

"Always this pleasant in the morning?" Arthur asked, the door opening and shutting quickly behind him.

"You know I am not," I retorted, happiness and some shock at seeing him easily hidden by early morning ire.

I sat abruptly, shoving all of my gear off the small stool it had been resting on.

"What time is it?" I asked. He handed me a cup of hot cider, which I swilled gratefully, and answered. "Only an hour after dawn. You did mention you wanted to get an early start on to Bodaciam."

"Indeed. And remind me to tell you next time to ignore anything I say about early anything," I griped, and finally looked at him.

He looked tired, but settled. And that was a change from the usual.

The other change was the bruise under his jaw that showed purple and yellow, and might have been just the size of my mouth.

He flushed when he noticed what I was looking at.

"I'm sorry," I said, not really sorry at all. "I sometimes get – overzealous."

"As the many marks on my shoulders and back would attest," he said wryly. I looked down at my own body, naked in the early morning light, and just as marked as his neck.

"It does go both ways, Arthur," I said in a tone that matched his, and he flushed even brighter. I laughed gently, and stood, draining the cup of it's drink.

"So – shall we?" I clapped my hands together, and began to dig through the pile of gear for my clothing.

We dressed in comfortable silence, him finishing putting on his armor, and me everything.

Leaving the inn, Arthur stopped to thank the three brothers Seamus, Gabriel and Michael. I stood behind him, contemplating the place in the light.

For a British inn, the place had a lot of foreign knick knacks and décor.

Short swords, shields, and tapestry hung as they would in any small town, however, none of it looked even vaguely British.

In fact, it looked more Sarmatian. I knew that it was not, but it had the same tone as things from my homeland.

Except it was too big a coincidence that this place would have that kind of decoration, and just happen to have a village magus that worshipped deities resembling the things in the small inn.

The brothers wished us godspeed, and Arthur smiled at the use of the Christian blessing. I merely rolled my eyes, and mounted my horse, which a few small boys had brought around to the inn for us.

I waited until Arthur was mounted as well, then whistled to my bay.

He was more than ready to leave…as was I.

The road to Bodaciam was short, and empty of most people. We saw a few villagers and traveling merchants, but not as many as would be expected on a day in which it wasn't actually snowing or raining.

I debated with myself the whole way whether or not I should tell Arthur finally about the goddess, and made a bargain I would tell him on the way back to the wall.

I was being cowardly, I knew, but I didn't want to make him worry any more than he had to – or get him angry at me for not telling him earlier. Our ride was companionable and uneventful, a gift I was fully aware of, considering he could be acting strange or aloof in reaction to the new development in our relationship.

About an hour after leaving Tore, we began to see the smoke, and smell the burning flesh.

Anyone who had ever fought in any kind of battle knew that smell all too well.

We spurred our horses on at a gallop, and I almost ran my bay into Arthur's white stallion when he pulled up short at the edge of the village.

It was a wasted inferno.

No wonder we hadn't seen anyone going in this direction.

"God," Arthur shivered out, horrified. He crossed himself on his forehead, something I had only seen the few Christians at the wall do in their chapel. For my part, I shut my eyes, and thanked my own gods we had decided to stay at Tore the night before. Otherwise, I might be staring at Arthur's burnt out corpse today instead of villagers I didn't know.

"What happened?" I asked, not expecting an answer.

Arthur merely pointed, and I started, swearing.

The fountain in the center of the square was decimated, broken and torn. But what we didn't expect to see was the large amount of dead people heaped on it, and the river of blood that had drained from them to the ground around it.

I swallowed back the sudden rush of bile, and urged my horse up next to his, meeting his eyes.

"Arthur," I said quietly, "there's something I need to tell you."

Arthur paced, and I sat, my head in my hands, tired of his shouting.

Our horses were tethered to a nearby tree, and we sat about a quarter of a leauge away from Bodaciam.

Upwind.

"I cannot believe you didn't tell me about this," he said for the millionth time, and I stood at last, popping my back, my patience gone.

"Arthur, for pity's sake, if you say that one more time, I may have to cut my own head off to stop my insanity," I retorted, and marched to him, standing inches in front of him.

We were both breathing hard, sweating. I could swear steam was issuing from his nose.

"I wanted to handle it myself," I said through clenched teeth, "you don't need anything else to worry about."

"That's why I'm here, Lancelot," he said, his normal even tone rising again, "to help you. God, man! We should have taken the magus prisoner – or at least interrogated him."

"I told you, I tried, Arthur! He tricked me with some spell," I spat, angry that he thought I wouldn't have known to do just that. "I'm no green recruit; I know my duty."

I spun away from him, and stomped over to my horse, mounting it.

"Let's go," I said, "we can reach the wall by midnight if we ride now."

He grumbled something about him being the commander, but followed my lead, and untethered his stallion.

We broke immediately into a furious gallop, headed for the wall, and reinforcements.

I was right, and we did arrive at midnight.

Exhausted, road weary, and smelling of horse and charred flesh, we clattered into the courtyard.

"Blast," Arthur said, raking a hand through his sweaty hair. "The others are still on leave. I must call them back by emergency."

"They only have one more day, Arthur," I snapped, "surely we can give them that."

"And let an entire village of Britons and Romans go unprotected and unburied?" he snapped back. "I can't believe you'd even suggest that, Lancelot."

"And what would you do? Force the legionnaires to go with you? Do you really think Lucius Scipio would loan you his men – even for such a short mission? Really, Arthur, you haven't been paying attention to garrison politics."

His legendary control broke, and he slammed me up against the stable wall, the squires and various men about studiously ignoring us.

"Go. To the bathhouse," he gritted through his jumping jaw muscles. "You stink."

"And you smell of roses," I said sweetly back to him, smiling my best arrogant smile, which I knew would anger him to no end.

He snorted two hot breaths on my face, then whirled, gone in a flash of road musk and red cloak.

I let my tired knees relax, and I sunk to the floor, the smirk wiped off my face.

Only he could get my anger to rise so. And only I could make his rear its ugly head as well.

I garbled out a few Sarmatian curses, and stood, my own smell wafting after me.

I took his advice, and after dropping my armor and gear with one of the various garrison pages who assured me it would be placed in my quarters, I headed for the south side of the garrison, where the new chapel and the bathhouse lay.

The Romans employed numerous slaves to man their baths, but I dismissed them, taking the strigil and sponge in my own hands.

I could scrape myself clean. I didn't need some stranger to help me.

I sighed as I kicked off my boots, then quickly stripped off my tunic and trousers. One discreet slave picked up my clothing, and left me with a set of garrison issue army garments, there for men who hadn't brought anything else with them. I figured they could burn my clothing. I certainly wasn't going to use it again – it's almost impossible to get the smell of fire out of fabric. Especially when it reeked of burnt flesh.

I shivered as I poured oil on myself, then began to methodically use the scraper the Romans favored to get most of the grime off.

The heat of the steam room and the feeling of the wood on my flesh calmed my rampant temper somewhat, and soon I was almost asleep on my feet.

Then the image of that damn Kali statue reared forth in my mind, and I hissed involuntarily as my guilt came with it.

Arthur was the true master of guilt; but I came a close second.

I stumbled slightly, and jerked as a warm hand rested on my shoulder.

Arthur took the strigil out of my hand, and turned me around, making me sit on the wooden bench provided in the room.

I groaned as he used the thing on me, most of the tension that had been there making my back cramp again.

"Relax," he murmured, and I laughed.

"Funny coming from you," I said lightly, but knew also when to keep my mouth shut.

So I did, and let him finish purging the road muck from my body.

He pushed me toward the baths, and I sunk in, making a little 'meep' noise as the water hit my skin.

I shut my eyes, but after a moment, cracked one surreptitiously open, to see what he was doing.

He quickly made use of the oil and wooden stick himself, and joined me in the large tiled tub.

We said nothing, merely soaking and breathing.

"I checked on Galahad," he said softly at last. "His forehead is better, and his arm has been stitched. Gawain stayed behind, to care for him."

I nodded, glad, but not wanting to break the moment of relative peace between us.

"Lancelot," he added a minute later. I opened my eyes, and he was staring at me. I winced inwardly.

"Arthur. Put away the guilt, if only because I ask it," I said, moving through the stinging hot water to get closer to him. "If it was anyone's fault, it was mine. I should have said something earlier."

He nodded, but I could see he didn't believe me.

"Sero in periculis est consilium quaerere," I sighed, and his eyes snapped wide, a look of incredulaty on his face.

"You don't speak Latin," he said almost accusatorily. I smiled faintly.

"Only a few phrases I thought might impress someone someday," I replied.

"Advice does come too late when the danger is already there," he answered, and the lines I was getting too used to seeing on his face reappeared between his brows.

I reached up a hand, unable to stop myself, and ran a light finger over that spot, trying to smooth the lines.

He let out a small breath then, and slumped his shoulders. I moved my hand to his cheek, and he looked at me, the pain in those green depths enough to almost undo me.

"We will figure this out, Arthur," I told him calmly. "As soon as the others are here. We are the best and fiercest fighters around. We will avenge them. I swear it."

"What would I do without you?" he said in answer, solemnly.

"Live a long and sanity filled life?" I answered, only somewhat joking.

He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting a tad. That made me happy.

"We should sleep while we still can," he remarked, and as reluctant as I was to leave his side and the hypnotizing baths, I agreed.

We rose, drying off and dressing quickly, Arthur laughing only once when he saw my red military dress. I scowled, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

We walked in comfortable silence down the barracks hallway, his door coming before mine.

I made to say farewell, and turned to go on.

"Lancelot," he said, his voice stilted and far away. I turned back, sorrow etched on my face to hear a tone like that from him.

"Stay with me."

I cocked my head, unsure I had heard him correctly.

"Stay."

He said it again, and I nodded. Any strength I could provide for him, I would be glad to do so.

And if I drew my own strength from his arms and good person, well, he didn't need to know that.

He tugged me into the room, shutting the door behind us.

end four.