Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the film King Arthur, nor do I own the myth, or anything else, just the girl character. This story was written for entertainment purposes only, no money was exchanged. Please don't sue, just tell me if I need to change something.
katemary77 – wow, thanx for all the info, it really clears things up. I hope you like the rest of the story. Oh, I'm reading your story, ( lancelot : )
thanks to everyone who reviewed, it makes me happy. smile
Chapter Six: Second Chances
I want to make it up. I don't want them to remember me as that false friend they found in the woods. I don't want to have this weight of guilt on my soul, along with that of my family, of Brutus. I don't know how though. My pride won't let me follow behind them like a dog, nor am I willing to beg. I need an excuse…Galahad's tunic was opened when they pulled him out. That means that the belt he had on to tie it, with a small pouch attached, had fallen off. I search for it in the shallows, and don't find it until twilight. It is getting cold, the temperature is dropping, I no longer have my bow, and I'm wet. But I have the pouch and belt. I look at it; it is made of intricately leather, shaped into a never-ending knot. In the pouch I find a few coins, a soggy piece of bread, and something small bundle in cloth. I open it. Inside it is a charm, a keepsake really, perhaps a memento from home. It is a glassy black stone that seems to suck in all light, with carved markings on it. I don't know what they mean, but as I finger the stone in my palm, it feels familiar almost, as if it might start talking in a language I used to know. I hastily wrap the stone in its cloth again, and put it away. It disturbs me.
The knights are not hard to trail. As I said, we were well out of Woad territory, and the paths they used were well-defined. I follow it for several miles until I see a fortress. It is stylized in the Roman fashion, as imposing as Hadrian's wall itself. There is now way I could get in, nor am I stupid enough to try. Instead, I wait by the tree line. I wait for days, in fact, eating what I can find, watching riders come in and out, and trying to avoid patrols. I notice a pattern. I know that tomorrow the knights I met, along with three others, including a Roman, will leave the fort and pass near the western wall, venturing close to the tree line. I will meet them there. I must, because I cannot live for much longer on just forged plants, I need my bow back, or a knife, anything.
The next day I place myself unobtrusively behind a tree covered in foliage. I wait until the knights pass, even Tristan doesn't not see me, crouched down under the thicket. But they all notice when I stand, and before I can even take a step forward, they veer back and surround me on horse back. It occurs to me that perhaps this was unwise, maybe they really will just kill me this time, but it's too late now.
"Well, watch'you want then?" a gruff man snarls me. He's a giant really.
"I—I…Galahad…left this…" I hold out the pouch.
"Left? Left? You mean lost when he almost drowned?"
"Yes," I reply unabashed.
"Well how'de'we know you didn't just filch it after you thought him dead?"
The big man has obviously been told the story. I hand the pouch back him anyways though, and the others start to back away. They are leaving again.
"Wait!" I call, wanting to stop them,
"Tristan, I – I can't eat without my bow." He had never returned it after finding me that first day. Even if I couldn't make amends with the knights, I still needed to eat. He looks down at me for a very long time, and than slowly nods his head.
"Wait here." And they ride off, and I see Galahad checking his pouch to see if anything is missing.
I do wait. In fact, I wait for a very long time. The knights do not return until the end of their patrol, far after nightfall. I am uneasy being so close to the Roman encampment, so far from the safety of the inner forest, so defenseless. By now Tristan and the other knights must have decided what to do with me. I hear horse hooves. They've come back.
"I am Arthur Castus," calls the Roman, "you will come with us."
I walk forward, and can only see the outlines of their figures in the dark. I yelp as someone grabs me roughly, hoists me up to their horse, and gallops off with the others.
We travel back to the fort. Upon arriving, I am taken in for questioning, for a very, very long time. Fortunately, this Arthur seems a compassionate man. He not only believes me, or at least believes what I tell him, but also allows me to wander around the civilian part of their fortress later on.
By now it must be well past midnight, but still there are Romans and knights about, drinking, gambling, laughing. I find a spot on the floor by a corner; close enough to the fire, but far enough not to draw much attention. The knights saw me walk in though, I know they did. I sit and watch. The knights pointedly ignore me, and burst into laughter again with a glance my way. They will not forgive easily, this I know. They are loyal to their friend whom I hurt. I close my eyes and feel the heat of the fire. When I open them, someone is standing over me. It is Galahad. I start to stand, surprised, but he shakes his head and sits down next to me. Silence. Finally, he speaks,
"You look hungry. Here." He pushes a bowl of porridge to me. I take it and stir it slowly,
"Galahad, listen, I didn't mean for--" he cuts me off,
"It's alright. We're all alive, and you were just scared." I glance up sharply and he is looking at me meaningfully, as if he's trying to tell me something. I frown, not understanding, so he elaborates,
"You were hovering above me, trying to give me life. When I awoke the face I saw was that of a woman. Your face." Oh no. Oh dear. Oh crap, this is not good. What will they do when they learn? What if they…I must have looked frightened, because he quickly adds,
"I won't tell. I'm sure you have your reasons." I don't answer, I don't know what to say, so he tries again,
"What is your name, anyways?" he asks. My name? At the villa they called me Decimus, "tenth," a man's name. But my name, my name….
"Dzerassa. My name is Dzerassa." It feels strange to say, after all these years.
"Dzerassa?" Now he is surprised and continues, "'Fair Dzerassa, Daughter to the Lord of the waters, Mother to the Narts." It sounds like Galahad is quoting something.
"What does that mean? Why did you say that?" I ask.
"Do you not know the meaning of your name? Dzerassa is spoken of in the myths of both the Scythians, and the Sarmatians, my own people." I didn't know this.
"Where is Sarmatia? Is it close to Rome?" Perhaps I am Sarmatian. Perhaps I was sold to Romans, and that's how I ended up there.
"Sarmatia is in the east…" Galahad answers and trails off, I can tell he is thinking of something else, "I used to have a sister named Dzerassa," he says, and smiles, "She loved the water. And the birds." We both look at each others features for a moment, wondering. He gets up abruptly and turns to me, "It is a common name," and then he walks away, and I watch. I do not ask what became of his sister.
I wonder if I am from Sarmatia. Or my parents. A part of me would like to believe that Galahad could be my brother, maybe that was why the stone in the pouch felt familiar, but deep down I know that it is just wishful thinking. But it does make me wonder. Most of my family, whatever country they were in, I do not know, was dead. Some must have lived, though, if the money from the selling of my cousin and I were used to buy the needed supplies. And I did have a brother, taken by the Romans. He would still be in their service, I think. I don't remember any of their names though, not my family, all I have are vague images, scattered sounds, feelings, sometimes a smell will trigger a memory. But not often. But I hadn't considered the possibility of finding anyone.
I did some research on finding a name for the character. Apparently, there are few Greek references on Sarmatian-Alanian mythology, but it appears that Dzerassa was the daughter of the Lord of the waters, and the she-ancestor of the Narts, a race of giants in the myths originating in the Caucacus of Georgia, (the country, not the US state!). I do not know if she was supposed to be "fair," but I took a guess because I needed an adjective. If I got these or other facts wrong, please tell me, it wasn't on purpose or for any lack of respect to the culture.