Secrecy was hard-kept in the barracks at Hadrian's Wall. Tristan, ever watchful, ever perceptive, guessed quickly, but said nothing. Arthur instantly knew the next morning, when they entered the hall separately. Lorella knew already, and Bors knew from his mistress. The only unknowing ones were Gawain, Galahad and Dagonet. It would only be a matter of time until they discovered the truth. Everyday would continue as normal – furtive looks and knowing smirks the only appearance of any change. And every night, a shadowy figure would dart from one room to the other, and return in the early hours of the morning. Wha was said in those quiet hours were only known by Bryanne and Lancelot – whispered promises and tales.
It all changed the day Lorella and Bryanne were sewing in the paddock. The knights were away again, but Bryanne had learnt to shut the fear out. It was a rare sunny day, and it warmed the back of their necks as they bent over their work.
"What is it that you are so in love with, Bryanne?" Lorella asked curiously after a while. Bryanne frowned, and paused in her sewing.
"Everything." She answered slowly. "But, if I were to choose one thing, it would be his eyes." Lorella smiled out the corner of her mouth, and looked at the younger woman.
"Why his eyes?"
"Because they're so…" She searched for the word. "Soulful."
"Soulful!" Lorella cackled.
"Don't mock. They are. When you look into them, you feel as if you're looking directly into his soul. You can see his every thought, every emotion. You can see him." She frowned. "That doesn't sound right… how do I make you understand?"
"No. That sounded right. I know what you mean. When he smirks and looks in that way, you know he's thinking something naughty or rude." Bryanne laughed, tilting her head back.
"Exactly." The older woman laughed too.
"Ah, I've lived with that bugger for twelve years now." Bryanne's eyes asked the question. "Ah, I met Bors a year into his posting here. I'd been bought by a Roman noble, and he'd taken me from Sarmatia, to Rome, to here. Not many know this, but I am nearly a whole year older than Bors. And far more experienced in the world. Oh… He was bullish and as annoying as hell, and I hated him at first. He'd pull my hair and shout at me and tell me I wasn't a proper Sarmatian." Bryanne snorted. That sounded like an infantile Bors all right. "Lancelot was just as bad. More cheeky and arrogant than bullying, I think. He knew he was a looker back then, too. All the girls fawned over him. And whenever one would say something, he'd smirk and look away, as if he knew something they didn't. He never got any better. He's five and twenty now, and almost as bad as he was when he was fifteen. Him and his passion for skirt… Don't worry about it. You have him well tamed."
"Oh, I don't worry." She smiled secretly, remembering the words Lancelot often whispered to her. Always, my little vixen.
"And, of course, with the baby coming –"
"Baby!" Bryanne snapped, startled. Lorella looked baffled.
"Of course. Oh, come on girl, didn't you guess?"
"Well, no… I…" She trailed off, touching her stomach. Baby? It was a ridiculous notion. It wouldn't happen. Not to her… And out of wedlock! With a Sarmatian. She groaned, and prayed to God Lorella was wrong.
"Don't be so upset." The Sarmatian woman waved it off. In truth… Bryanne wasn't. She shook her head.
"I can't be."
"And why not?" Lorella answered indignantly.
"Because…" She paused. Why couldn't she? And come to think of it, the signs showed… Oh God…
Lancelot trotted Solmyr into the courtyard, wincing at the sharp pain in his arm as he dismounted. That bloody woad… He looked around furtively for Bryanne, but she wasn't there. Wait… the woad girl approached Arthur quietly, and asked him a quick question. The answer accompanied a nod, and Bryanne disappeared again, not even looking at Lancelot. He frowned, something was wrong.
"Lancelot." Dagonet called. "Let me rebind that wound."
"It's fine, really, Dag, I –"
"Come on." The taller man steered his friend roughly towards his room, determined not to let him slip away. Lancelot followed Arthur with his eyes, as the commander slipped into the hall. Bryanne was waiting for him, and hesitated as he shut the door.
"What is it, Bryanne?" Arthur asked, concerned.
"I have to ask you… a favour."
"Anything."
"I trust you know about Lancelot…" Arthur nodded. Bryanne bowed her head, suddenly feeling very ashamed. "Then perhaps you could advise me on what to do."
"Is there a problem?" He indicated she should sit, and she obeyed, clasping her hands in her lap and staring at the woven fingers.
"Not as such…" She took a deep breath and looked pleadingly at Arthur. "I'm pregnant." She announced. Silence rang from the walls.
"Oh. I see." He hadn't much reply...
"Pregnant!" Lancelot yelped. She nodded, blushing. "Well that's..! That's good, isn't it?" He checked anxiously. Bryanne shrugged, looking down at her feet. "How long?"
"Nearly a month."
"A mon…" Lancelot was overawed, and sat down hard on his cot. He shook his head. "How?" Bryanne shot him a dirty look.
"If you don't know by now, Lancelot –"
"Of course, of course. I'm just… well, amazed."
"I noticed."
"What do we tell the others?" He cried after a moment of silence. "They're bound to notice, and how do we explain it?" Bryanne sat next to him, and he took a hand from her lap, tracing her fingers with his.
"Arthur is already telling them. They will know by now." Lancelot nodded. Then reached over and kissed her lightly.
"I do love you, my little vixen."
"And I love you, my Sarmatian wolf." She answered audaciously. "Come on." She took his hand and pulled him up. "We'd better go and confront what's sure to come." He laughed as she walked away, and snatched his arms around her waist, nuzzling his head into her neck. She slapped his roving hands away, scolding him. "I'm a pregnant woman!" He chuckled, half-leading, half-pulling her to the tavern.
What greeted them was not what they expected. They sat to an awkward silence, which was only broken with Dagonet raising his mug and announcing:
"To the forthcoming child." The words were repeated quietly around the table, and everyone drank a toast. Bors smacked his lips together and grunted as no one said anything else.
"A right bloody lot we are. We should celebrate. We've done it enough times with my kids!" He cackled gleefully as the knights laughed in confirmation. The tension dissipated, making Bryanne wonder if she had just imagined it. Lancelot's bemused expression told her that she had not. Lorella seated herself beside the woad, patting her lap comfortingly and winking.
"Ah, you have no idea." She teased. Bryanne looked apprehensive until Lorella laughed and waved her hand. "Don't be so worried. It's beautiful." The younger girl thought back to the day when she had seen Lorella, tired but jubilant, in her bed. She saw the devotion in her eyes when she looked at her children – all ten. And Bryanne, for the first time since discovering she was pregnant, began to feel excited and expectant for the months to come. Lancelot entwined his fingers in hers underneath the table, and kissed her temple. She looked at him. The man she had hated, the man she now loved… It terrified and thrilled her at the same time. But, in her months at Hadrian's Wall, Bryanne had learnt that mixed emotions were commonplace when dealing with Sarmatians. They were an unpredictable race.
Arthur took her hand as Bryanne rose to leave, and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
"Congratulations, Bryanne." He said quietly. She bowed her head in acknowledgement, and allowed Lancelot to lead her back to the quarters, where, for the very first time, they shared the same room without secrecy. They lay in her bed, listening to Genna sleeping and the voices outside.
"Genna will have a cousin." Lancelot whispered.
"She will. I wonder if she will love them."
"Very much so." He kissed her softly. The woman he had loved with every breath… their child.
"Will it be a boy, or a girl, do you think?"
"Most definitely a boy. And he'll grow up to be a strong, brave knight, with your eyes and my hair, and Solmyr's foal as his steed." Bryanne laughed.
"You have a lot of faith in that, I see. And what of Solmyr's foal? I have seen him care for no horse, nothing, in fact, except you."
"Then you are missing the sultry looks he gives Desra." Lancelot rumbled, his lips against her neck. Bryanne smiled at the idea.
"That would be a beautiful foal indeed."
"It will be a beautiful son. He must have the most beautiful horse on this island to ride." Bryanne pouted her lip mockingly, nodding. "What?"
"Oh nothing. But, what if it is a girl?"
"It won't." At her raised eyebrows, he added quickly: "But, if it is, then she shall be the fairest girl you ever did see. Tall and elegant – a perfect Briton, and a flawless Sarmatian, and wiser then Arthur." Bryanne gasped.
"Isn't that blasphemy, my dear knight?" He laughed.
"Of course not." There was silence. "You know… you talk of blasphemy as if following Arthur were a religion."
"Well, isn't it?" Lancelot opened his mouth to speak, then paused, closing it again. He frowned.
"I never thought of it like that. I suppose so… but, you see, it's more of a brotherhood. A friendship."
"Do you have no religion, Lancelot?" The Sarmatian thought for a while.
"If I were to think about it hard enough, it would probably be my native religion… but I barely remember what it was." He bit his lip. "I told you once I have few beliefs. I maintain that. But, now, I have found something to have faith in." He caught her questioning look. "You." He whispered. She laughed, and he looked hurt. "I'm serious, Anne. I've never believed in someone so strongly as I have you."
"Lancelot…" Bryanne murmured.
"It's true." He said, his voice so soft she almost had to strain her ears to hear it. She shut her eyes, smiling.
"Go to sleep, Lancelot."
He woke later, when the night was at its darkest, to find an empty space beside him. In momentary panic, he sat up. From the glowing embers of the fire, he saw a silhouette by Genna's basket – Bryanne holding the child and gently rocking her, hushing her.
"Anne." He made as if to rise, but Bryanne tutted at him.
"Go back to sleep, Lancelot."
"Is she okay?"
"Fine." Bryanne looked at the now dozing child. "She just woke, that's all." She hummed a little more until Genna was fully asleep, and then crept over to Lancelot, creeping under the covers with him. He slid his hands about her waist and quickly fell back asleep again. Bryanne lay awake a little longer, watching his peaceful face and feeling his chest rise and fall under her hand. She was suddenly overcome with doubt. Could she do this? Could she have a bastard child with a knight… her enemy? She didn't know what to do with Genna, let alone caring for her own. She frowned, biting back her qualms forcefully. No, she couldn't turn back now. God had taken from her everything – her family and her home, and given her Lancelot. And now this child. She could live again. But to live like this… Constantly in fear of losing him, having to stay at home, never knowing, always hoping, he was safe. Sleep, she told herself, it will all look different in the morning.
