Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the film King Arthur, nor do I own the myth, or anything else, Dzerassa's 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.
I was thinking about the character and realized that the ages and number of years that I vaguely mention later in the story don't always add up. Sorry about that, and just bear in mind that, with her life, neither she nor her owners would know her exact age, and their guesses could have been years off because she is small and perhaps appears younger than she is. Just go with the concept that she is in her mid-to-late teens, maybe 16 or 17 (and gets older with the undetermined amount of months that she stays with the knights.) I think that she could still mask her gender at that age by pretending to be a younger boy around 12; high voice, no facial hair, appearing not fully grown.
Chapter Ten: Friendship and Duty
The first half of the trip passes without incident. The knights talk, joke, eat, sleep, ride, like always. I tend to stick by Galahad and Gawain, I feel relaxed around them, though I am still curious as to what Gawain thinks of me. In any case, we arrive at the ports within two days and seek out the Roman regiment that we are supposed to escort back (much to the Sarmatian knight's distaste.) Arthur dismounts and goes to talk to the commander of the new arrivals, and comes back looking grim. "The commander says the ships arrived here early. Rather than waiting for their messenger to return from our fortress, one contingent went off by itself to try and find another way to us." The other knights express their disgust at this lack of better judgment, and Arthur continues, "They marched off straight into Woad territory and haven't been heard from since."
Bors scoffs at the news, "Let me guess: they want us to go rescue their sorry asses?" Arthur nods slightly, "A full-fledged rescue is impossible so deep into enemy territory. If we called attention to ourselves, we'd be killed. Our best chance would be a more discrete approach." I notice that Tristan tenses up slightly at the suggestion, and then he nods to Arthur. I don't understand what is happening, but Arthur continues, "Tristan will seek out the missing soldiers and guide them back as best he can. The rest of us will escort the main group back to the citadel." He pauses and than continues, "Someone should go with Tristan, so deep into Woad territory, no one should be alone." He looks at me, and I glance around, confused, "You will go," he commands. I see Lancelot smirking in the background, "It is certainly a man's job," he taunts. I know that he regards this as a test, of loyalty and of strength. I believe that he will tell my secret if I don't agree, and besides, I would not leave Tristan to venture so far alone. "I will go," I agree.
I wish that I could say that Arthur asked me to go with Tristan because of my fierce combat skills. Or my healing powers. Or my unrivaled talents for…something. But I know that this is not the case. I know that I was chosen because I am expendable. To put it simply, I have enough training that I am able to travel quietly and stealthily, a necessity, and that I will be able to ride for help, and put up somewhat of a fight if stealth should fail. But I am not good enough that my safety can be assured, nor am I worth too much to be put at risk. No need to jeopardize a true knight on the well-being of foolish Roman soldiers, and Tristan should be able to take care of himself at least. I sigh. Oh well, I guess I will just have to try especially hard not to be killed. With one final glance at the party, I ride off, following in Tristan's wake.
It seems that there is much more to Tristan than one picks up on at first. He doesn't speak much, but once or twice on our journey I stumble across subjects that peak his interest. Although by no means a conversationalist, I discover that he makes a magnificent storyteller. He says that in his clan, that is how history and legend are remembered, through the voices of the elders, down the generations. I wonder how these knights will be remembered. We travel quite awhile in the forest, quietly, seeking signs of the Romans. Tristan points out things that I would not have considered, even if I had noticed them; the way a tree branch has been broken, or how a tuft of dead leaves has been kicked up, a footprint, even a discarded sandal tie. Within the first few days we find the Romans. They are dead. All of them. I feel sick as I survey the bodies; it looks as if they were ambushed. I dismount and I start to move towards them, to pay them some respect, anything, but Tristan grabs my arm and roughly pulls me back, just as an arrow hurls itself past me. "Bait," he growls, and pulls out his bow. I follow suit, but as I am lifting my bow up off the horse I feel a searing pain on my left side. An arrow has struck my side, below my arm to the left of my breast. It pierces my shirt, grazing my torso leaving a thick, deep gash across my skin before exiting. Gods it hurts! There are more of them than us, and Tristan quickly realizes this, and orders retreat. We ride hard, dodging a well-conceived rope trap set up by the Woads, but are not pursued.
We manage to make it out of the heavily populated Woad territory unharmed, We ride lightly trying to hide our tracks, and in silence. We make for the citadel once again, empty-handed and distraught. Tristan is annoyed with himself for not sensing a trap. I am preoccupied both by the carnage and my own injury. After awhile, Tristan senses my distress and uncharacteristically tries to make small talk to distract me. "You did well," he says. I'm not really listening, but than he adds, "for a girl." I turn, startled, sending a searing pain down my left side. Tristan notices my wound for the first time, "Fool!" he shouts, but he looks concerned as fresh blood starts to ooze out. He leads the horses to a sheltered grove and helps me down. He curses as he lifts me off the horse, "Why didn't youtell me you were injured!" He lays me on the forest floor, and has to take off my shirt and the band that keeps my breast down in order to tend and clean my wound. That would be why I didn't tell him, but at this point I don't care. It hurts, ugh, his hands make it hurt even worse! The world slows down and goes black and…
I wake up a few hours later. It is dark, and Tristan has a fire going. I am surprised, and ask if it won't attract the Woads. He says that we are too close to the fortress for the Woads to venture. We would be back by now except that he was afraid to move me so soon. He smiles and tries to feed me some thin broth. He has a calm, comforting presence. He asks me for my true name, my story. And for some strange reason, I tell him.