Thanks to all the reviewers.
Eleven
Two Days Later
Tristan rode up beside Lancelot and the others, who sat upon the hill that overlooked the camp. It had been a mostly uneventful ride the past couple of days, but they had finally arrived at Hadrian's Wall. Tristan surveyed the land, and even the men at the outpost below the rolling hills. He scoffed slightly under his breath. What was so great about Hadrian's Wall? It was true that few things in life intrigued Tristan. This was one of those things.
Lancelot came up beside the scout and rested his hands on his knees.
"What did I let you talk me into this?" Tristan wondered.
"No one told you to come, Tristan," Lancelot answered. "Which means that you are free to leave at any time."
"Is this what you say to every man you meet?" Tristan asked.
"If the conversation calls for it, then, yes," Lancelot replied humbly. "No man should be forced to think, feel, or act anything other than what they do. All men are free to do what they choose, when they choose, and how they choose to live."
"Is this what they taught you over the years? You sound like a spokesman for the Gods," Tristan said.
Lancelot laughed, his eyes lighting up. "Let's just say it's some common sense. We are free, remember?"
Tristan looked down at the camp again. "Yes, free, but for how long, I wonder?"
Lancelot didn't have a reply to Tristan's last comment, for he couldn't say for sure himself. He gingerly tapped his horse's side and led the others down to the campsite. The moment that they arrived at the bottom of the hill, Tristan and Lancelot were met by two other men. One man was tall, broad shoulder, and mostly bald. The second man was bald, stout, and slightly overweight.
"Hey, Dag, I didn't know they let just anyone join up now," the shorter man said. "Rome must be going even more bugger on us then before!"
Tristan immediately recognized the two men, as did Lancelot. He sat forward in his saddle and finally dismounted.
"They must have heard you were here, Bors, so they sent the rest of us to keep an eye on your sorry arse!" Lancelot joked, extending his hand. "Good to see you again, Bors!"
Tristan looked from Bors to the other man, whom he remembered was Dagonet. The man had not changed all that much, except for being older, obviously, and the scar across the side of his face. Dagonet extended his arm toward him.
"It's good to see you again, Tristan," the man spoke softly, as he always had.
"Dagonet," Tristan replied, nodding to the man.
Then, a voice called out, "What's this, a convention of worthless buggers?"
The four men turned as they were approached by two more knights. The first knight was average height, with long, curly blond hair. The second knight was shorter, with darker hair, and younger.
"And, I thought Rome had had their fill of men like that?" the younger knight added to the first knight's comment.
"Guess you can't be right all the time, eh, Gawain?" Bors laughed heartilly.
Gawain turned slightly and folded his arms. "Hey, don't forget that it was Galahad here that dragged us all into this in the first place."
Of course, Tristan thought, who could forget Gawain and Galahad. Tristan recogonized the younger knight who had grown from his boyhood and into a young man. He nodded to Galahad, as Galahad had alos noticed the scout, and nodded back just before Bors had placed him into a headlock.
"Yeah, yeah, leave it to Skirtboy here to bring it all down on us!" Bors laughed out again.
"All right, all right, but we can do without the name calling all ready, Bors!" Galahad forced Bors' strong arms from his neck and stood straight up again. "This stupid kilt wasn't my first choice either. Wasn't my fault that everything else was taken. But, I've gotten along just fine with it."
The knights shook their heads. Then, Gawain said, "Hey, did any of you see the new commander yet?"
Lancelot shook his head. "No, we were told just to assemble here to await our new orders."
Bors looked from Lancelot to Tristan. "You came with him, eh? What's the matter, got lost?"
Tristan simply rolled his eyes, and Bors laughed hysterically. He slapped Tristan on the shoulder. "Hey, you gotta loosen up a bit, man! I was just kidding!"
"All right, Bors, how much have you drunk tonight?" Gawain asked, folding his hands before his waist. "You know when you get back, you keep that up, and Vanora'll kill you yet!"
Bors slapped his knee. "That woman, I tell you, is like a vipe, waiting to strike! But, alas, she can't keep her hands off of me!"
"She can't, or you can't?" Galahad asked. "If I remember right, you were the one all over her last time we were in town."
Tristan was astonished by these four other knights. He had known him such a short amount of time, but they seemed to know one another quite well. He wondered how it was that only he and Lancelot felt so out of place from the rest...
After the knights had been allowed to rest and eat, they were summoned around the campfire with their ale to meet their new commander. Tristan sat in the shadows and looked out at the other men. There was not more than 50 or 60 of them, but they filled the camp with such warmth and personality. Tristan didn't understand their ways, or maybe, he just couldn't.
The men talked amongst themselves for a short period of time. Then, the commander's tent opened, and he stepped out in front of the knights. Tristan watched as the man proudly made his way in front of the spectating men. He stood coolly in front of the blazing fire and peered out at everyone. Tristan could feel that this man had a strong presense; maybe an even stronger presense then his own. The commander's green eyes scanned over each of the men.
"Men, I am Arthur, commander of the Sarmatian army. You all are now my knights," the man paused, and smiled under his breath. "There, I am glad now, that we are done with the formalities, and can get down to business."
The knights chuckled and raised thei ale to this man. Even Lancelot and the rest did so after realizing who this man was. Arthur. He had been the quietest and second smallest to the seven of them. Now, he was a man, bold and daring, and the leader of many knights. It was strange to witness such a spectacle. Tristan had thought that his new life at Hadrian's Wall would be deathly boring, but perhaps it would not be. Still, it was remained to be seen.
"I will have new orders for us as a group in due time, but until then, you all will be assigned to individual duties. I will speak to every man here in spare time, and I encourage you all to do the same," Arthur said. "From now on, the men that sit around you will be like your best friend from here on out. I suggest that you all get some rest tonight. That is all for now. You are dismissed."
As the men began to disperse, Tristan walked back over to where Lancelot and the other knights were talking.
"Can you believe him, talking so much like a man, when he is practically still a boy!" Bors said. "Why do they give such an important job to someone who's younger than all of us here, minus Galahad, that is."
"Perhaps there is more to this Arthur than meets the eye," Dagonet answered.
"Yes, Bors, you of all people should know better than to judge a man before you know them," Lancelot said.
"Well, he still looks like a washed-up has-been if you ask me!" Bors said glumly.
"Would you say so to his face?" Gawain asked.
"You bet I would!" Bors said.
"Good, here's your chance," Tristan said.
Bors turned to see Arthur making his way toward the group and froze. The other knights hid their smiles as their new commander approached them.
"Knights, I am glad to see you all again," Arthur said, shaking their hands. "I hope you all will forgive my intrusion now, and my not meeting with you earlier. I wanted to speak to the men as a whole before we met on an individual basis."
"You need not apologize, sir," Lancelot said.
Arthur waved his hand. "Please, call me Arthur, all of you."
He turned to Bors slightly as he spoke, "But, I must warn you, I have eyes in the back of my head."
Arthur made sure the others knew of the joke, and Bors sighed heavily. The commander turned back to Tristan and folded his hands behind his back.
"Tristan, might I have a word with you in private?" Arthur inquired.
Tristan nodded absentmindedly and followed the commander away from the other knights. Arthur stopped and turned back to him.
"If I remember right, you scout, do you not?" Arthur said.
"Yes, I am a scout," Tristan answered.
"Then, I was wondering if you might grant me a favor?" Arthur asked, and continued. "I would like it very much so if you would become my personal scout. Someone who can travel out first, check the roads, and what-have-you. So, Tristan, would you do me the honor of becoming my scout?"
Tristan didn't hesitate in shaking Arthur's hand. "The pleasure, Arthur, is mine."
As Arthur left him to attend to his other affairs, Tristan looked back at Lancelot, who smiled slighly and nodded back at him. Tristan smiled to himself and shook his head as he headed from the campsite into the sanctuary of the woods. This was most definately Lancelot's doing. There was no doubt about that in Tristan's mind.
End, 'Eleven.'