Chapter 2: A Request and the Fog
Disclaimer: I still own Amanda, not Arthur…nothing new.
The night had past quietly in the Saxon camp. A heavy rain fell on Amanda in her pen-like holding. The rain had soaked through her woolen dress, and droplets beaded down her face and over her neck as she passed in and out of sleep.
This damned knee! I would be home now, listening to Ma sing about the Woads and the Knights,thought Amanda bitterly. Frustrated by her limitations she sighed, thinking about her mother, father, and little brother - dear, sweet Nicolarious. She wondered if he had been sleeping well, or if he was still suffering from the nightmares that he had been talking about the day she went beyond the Wall.
"Oi! You prisoner! What do you think you're looking at?" asked a Saxon, emerging from his crowded hut. He was clearly intoxicated, and for once Amanda loathed that her Saxon guard was not at his post. He clumsily flung open the gate into the pen and stumbled towards Amanda. Her heart began to beat rapidly, and she tried to brace herself to fight him off. He picked her up by the waist, lifting her over his shoulder.
"Put me down! Stop it you mangy bastard! Put me down now!" screamed Amanda. She pounded his back and kicked her uninjured leg. The man ignored her, and plopped her down next to a tree. Amanda hadn't noticed another Saxon come out from the hut, with a rope in his hand. The first Saxon pushed her roughly against the tree, while the other tied the rope around her tightly. Thoughts raced through her mind; should she scream? Would anyone hear her? What would the Saxons do to her? All of these thoughts melted away before her as she realized she was completely alone and beyond all help. Her resistance to them faded and she sat there in the freezing rain. The two laughed at her shivering body, tied up against a huge tree. Then they finally went inside, leaving Amanda to rot in her Saxon hell.
Freshly sharpened blades were laid out on a table near maps and armor being examined by Arthur when a knock came to his door. When answered, a page boy had come to report that guests waited for him in the Throne Room. He was surprised at his unexpected guests, but left his room immediately to give them their audience. The moment he entered the room an easy smile came over his lips, and he opened his arms wide to his guests.
"It's about time you got your royal arse down here," greeted Bors in his usual loud and boisterous manner. Arthur laughed and embraced his fellow Knight, "How are you Arthur?" he asked, releasing his leader.
"Preparing to go out, as a matter of fact. A family came forward to me today and told me their daughter has gone missing. I have agreed to search for her," he explained, gravely. Galahad knitted his eyebrows together, and smiled as Arthur turned to him.
"Off to save the world again, are you?" he teased. Arthur laughed and clapped Galahad on the back in greeting.
"Gawain," he said as he turned to the last of his Knights, "tell me where you have been venturing in your freedom." The blonde Knight smiled at Arthur.
"Actually, I have not left Camelot in many months," he answered. "I have been here, falling in love with a wonderful girl." Arthur's eyes widened and smiled even bigger.
"There is a girl, then," said Arthur. "You would not stay for many other reasons, despite my pleas for you and Galahad to train my army!" He turned away from his friends to get them drinks.
"So, Arthur," said Galahad, "where exactly are you going?" Arthur returned with their drinks in hand.
"Somewhere north of here. I have reason to believe this girl has been taken against her will," explained Arthur. Bors furrowed his brow and Gawain gave Arthur a confused look.
"What would give you that impression?" Gawain asked, taking a seat.
"What do you care if a young lass has run off?" Galahad countered, clearly confused by Arthurs decision.
"From all accounts, Galahad, this girl has not run off. Her family came to these shores in search of sanctuary from Rome. Her father intimated to me that he held a position with the Church, but, for some reason, was forced to abandoned it and their home. This girl has little enough knowledge of Briton to go off and make a life for herself, but her parents were adamant that she would not forsake her family with such little thought." Galahad knitted his brow in thought, sensing that Arthur was not explaining himself fully.
"Who would have taken her, Arthur?" Gawain questioned. Arthur turned back to the table and took up one of several arrows that rested there. He turned back and tossed it to Gawain.
"Some days ago my scouts returned with reports that a small Saxon force was moving less than twenty miles from here," answered Arthur, taking a drink from his glass. "I believe that this girl crossed their path and when she identified where she was from was taken in hopes that I would come after her."
"These arrows – " Galahad began, but did not finish his thought.
"Yes," Arthur said quietly. Their eyes met and Galahad gave him a stern look.
"Damn Saxons," muttered Bors, lifting his glass to his lips. Galahad nodded in agreement as silence befell the group. "If they have her, she is likely dead."
"So, you are going to go after her and play right into the Saxon plan?" Gawain asked, his voice filling with some tension. After Lancelot's death Gawain had taken on many roles. Arthur was thankful to have such a competent and spirited companion, but disagreed with Gawain often with regard to plans and structures and matters of state.
"I have little choice in the matter, Gawain. I promised these people loyalty and service, and this family is no different. My plan is to find her and retrieve her under cover of darkness. That way I can give myself a few hours to get ahead of them and return here," Arthur answered, his expression grave. After a few moments, Gawain put his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"I will go with you," said Bors, proudly.
"I cannot ask that of you," Arthur replied, shaking his head.
"You didn't ask," Bors responded. "I am telling you that I am coming. If there are Saxons out there close enough to take this girl, then she is not the only one in trouble, is she?"
"Aye," agreed Gawain, "we have a city to protect now." Arthur turned his gaze to his friend, surprised.
"You are to join as well? The two of you, please, heed to reason. She may have been taken by an entire army. You owe me no services," Arthur said. He feared for their lives.
"You are a fool if you think we would allow you to venture beyond the Wall without any of us by your side," Galahad countered, taking a place beside Bors. Arthur shook his head, smiling against his will.
"Very well," Arthur conceded. "I would be honored to have you all join me."
"You had no choice," Bors called as he neared the door. "We'll leave at dawn."
The four parted ways for some time in order to prepare. Arthur continued to consult the maps of their surrounding area, but knew that they would do him no good without tracks or fresh indication of which direction this girl might have gone. They were to reconvene that following morning, stealing away in the first light of dawn to chase after this legion and the ghost of a girl none of them knew. The sun rose swiftly, and with the deep reds and pinks of the rising sky, the party rode out through the gates of Camelot in the direction the last anyone had seen. The men left the city, Arthur leaving Gurshion in charge and into the grey and dusty dawn they ventured.
Tracks from who they believed to be their missing girl were not hard to pick up. While dozens of people used the main road in and out of the city and market place every day, few ventured off into the fields. Bors walked up behind Arthur, who was looking at a footprint in the mud heading north. On a trail some miles later, indications of other people began to show themselves. Galahad and Bors inspected them for some time, but what they indicated felt plain to Arthur.
"I think your theory was right, Arthur," Bors said. "Some group passed this way, and it looks like there was some struggle from a smaller set of prints." He gestured to scrapes of prints amongst a path worn by others.
"This group may be larger than I originally thought. You all are the bravest and most skilled fighters on this island, but I'll not risk you against an army," Arthur replied. His creased brow and solemn set face studied the ground for some time, and then looked up the trail, eyes scanning the wood.
"What are your plans then, Arthur?" asked Bors.
"We shall have to scout on foot. We will stay in those woods there, and follow the tracks. These woods go on for miles, and they stay along this path. Where this wood ends, is where those Saxons will be. We will not attack, only those who have the girl, if they have her at all. If they do have her in their possession, they will be at the back of the camp. It is likely they will have a guard posted to her. When night falls, we will have to be swift to take her and be done with it," explained Arthur. Gawain had joined them by now and was giving Arthur a concerned look. Arthur looked from one of his men to the next, waiting for an opinion. Bors took a deep breath and nodded his consent.
"Sounds good enough to me," he said. Arthur looked at Galahad and Gawain who both nodded.
"Have to save the girl somehow," said Gawain. Arthur nodded.
"What are we going to do with the horses?" asked Galahad. Arthur looked around the place. In the distance, he could see a few rolling green hills.
"We should be back by tomorrow morning, maybe late in the afternoon. If we leave the horses out there tied up to that little cluster of trees, then we will not have to worry about them," said Arthur, pointing out to the hills. The three others turned to face the hills, thinking about the offer. Agreeing shortly after, the men left their horses, and headed into the woods.
After hours of fighting and wrestling against the ropes, Amanda could feel her wrists raw and burning in agony. Her Saxon guard was sitting across from her, eating some bread and cheese with not even the slightest bit of interest in her. She watched him with a glare of hatred, plagued by her helplessness. Amanda felt uneasy from the cold rain the night before, and the discomfort from her taught and tense muscles was distracting. She tried to hope that she would be out from under this unfortunate circumstance before long, but her mind told her hope was useless. She shifted uncomfortably and felt a surge of pain in her knee. Letting a small gasp of pain escape her lips, the Saxon looked up at her and stood up to check on her. As he walked toward her, Amanda tightened her jaw in an effort to hide that she was frightened.
"Harloniaus," said a gruff voice from behind him, "let me talk to the girl." The Saxon walked away, revealing the Saxon leader. He walked toward her, pulling up the stump the man named Harloniaus had been sitting on. A chill ran down Amanda's spine as she felt his cold eyes fall on her.
"Why do you want King Arthur?" asked Amanda, her voice hoarse from lack of water. The man made no kind of answer as he looked up at the sky for a moment.
"Your great king, King Arthur," he began, "killed my brother and father. What right does your king have to kill my family?" asked the man heatedly.
"If they fought him in battle it is fair for me to assume that they were also trying to kill him. It is not my fault that they were not good enough to defeat him," answered Amanda smartly. She knew immediately that she would pay for such an answer, and she wished for the billionth time in her life that she could learn to hold her tongue. The rose in response, and gave her a blow across the face. The pain she felt was unreal and her eyes swam with tears as her skin smarted against the assault. He left her in her pain, unwilling to give her any more attention or unwarranted sympathies. Amanda looked up at the grey sky, and felt a rush of anger.
"Why are you testing me like this?" she whispered heatedly to God, "You have no need to test my faith! I have never sinned against you!" Amanda's head fell down, looking at the ground, crying silently.
The sky was beginning to turn inky black, and Arthur could smell smoke from the nearing camp. Bors was more silent than ever, breathing softly, sword drawn. Arthur watched the ground, making sure not to step on any twigs or branches to snap. Gawain and Galahad were behind Bors, swords drawn in case they should encounter danger in the darkness around them. Arthur continued on their path without hesitation. They were well protected from Saxon view, but still he felt a presence, watching him, urging him to go, almost leading him in the right direction. Looking up, Arthur could see the twinkles of the stars above through the trees. He stopped, crouching behind a bush, looking at the army of Saxons in front of them. Bors, Galahad, and Gawain crouched behind similar bushes examining the mass of men.
"Where did they recruit them all from?" said Galahad, shifting uncomfortably. Gawain shook his head in some disbelief.
"All right men, let's keep moving," said Arthur, rising slowly and backing away. The men followed him, Galahad pausing to take one last look at the group, and they continued to the back of the camp.
"Do you think we can do this?" whispered Galahad to Gawain. Gawain looked at him in surprise.
"Since when do you doubt yourself?" he asked back in hushed tones.
"Since it's now but four of us against all of them," replied Galahad, gesturing to the hundreds of man through the woods. Gawain sighed softly and knew exactly how he felt. It took Gawain a few moments to sort his thoughts.
"Galahad," he said, "I understand your concerns. But remember, we are the Knights of Briton. We cannot afford to doubt ourselves now." With that, Gawain sped his pace up and left Galahad behind him.
"We were the Knights of Briton," he said to himself. "We are not anymore dear friend."
Night fall had brought a creeping fog in from the trees that shrouded much of the Saxon camp. The light of camp fires shone dimly through fingers of mist, though Amanda was separated from much of the camp. Her keeper had retreated to his tent, apparently chilled from the moisture in the air. Amanda was roused from her uneasy sleep by a rustle in the woods behind her. Her eyes opened wide, looking around to detect any other person. The rustle drew near, and her heart stopped in her chest, as she decided the wolves had finally decided to make their move on her.
"Remain silent, mistress," said someone in her ear. "We are your only hope." Amanda turned to her left, but saw no one there. There was a pulling at the ropes behind her and could hear the faint slice of a blade running through the bindings. The ropes fell loose around her and she was quick to bring her hands to her chest to nurse her wounds. Afraid her sudden movement gave her new freedom away to any passing Saxon, she put her hands back down by her sides and scanned her surroundings the best she could. Her heart drummed loudly in her chest, and all she could focus on was getting away. She crouched and hobbled into the forest behind her, where she was confronted by four men. They were standing, and Amanda tried using a near-by tree trunk to hoist herself up, but found her knee unwilling to cooperate. After a few moments of struggle, she managed to position her weight on her uninjured leg, and again looked to her saviors.
"Gawain, can you carry her? We need to get out of here swiftly and quietly, before they come back," said a tall man with dark brown curls. He wore dark leather and armor, and Amanda could barely make the outline of his face in the darkness. The man named Gawain came forward and lifted her up. Amanda did not object, because she assumed these were the Kings men coming to rescue her. The man named Gawain had long blonde hair and fair brown eyes, which glanced at her apologetically as he adjusted her weight to be easier to manage. Amanda was surprised at how easily and how swiftly he moved despite his burden, and could only see over his shoulder. Behind Gawain was another man, shorter with dark hair. He had given her a stiff smile, and then cast his eyes in the direction of the Saxon camp. Amanda watched as the place she had been held disappeared from view, relief and exhaustion washing over her body. She had been rescued, by the King of her country. The great King Arthur had sent his men to save her from the Saxon force. Amanda rested her head against the man named Gawain's shoulder and drifted off into sleep as they escaped into the fog surrounding them.