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.
Oh la, thanks to all the wonderful reviewers! I should be able to update more quickly because I've written the rest of the story, and am just editing etc. So please keep reviewing so I know what's good/ bad and what makes sense and what is just rambling. I tend to do that sometimes…: ) Hope you like it though.
Chapter Fourteen: Captive
When light returns I find myself in a wagon, well-outside of the fortress walls. I am in a Roman convoy, headed off the island. My hands and feet are bound, my mouth gagged. I don't know why I am here. There were many women at the fortress, many more in all of Britain, still more in Rome and the rest of Europe. Why have I been taken? The Romans are known for their discipline, I cannot imagine that the kidnapping of townswomen is an act warranted in their regulations, nor can I believe that my capture would be any sort of benefit whatsoever. This can't even be dismissed as the drunken act of some stupid low-life soldier, because I am in a wagon, in plain sight of the commanding officer. A mounted soldier catches a glimpse of me, and rides over to his commanding officer. A few moments later I am joined by a handsome man in glinting armor. He smiles as he enters the back of the wagon and sits, blocking my view of the outside world. Still, he makes me feel uneasy.
"Do you want something to drink?" he calmly pours out a goblet of wine from a flask. I ignore him, but he removes my gag anyway. I can't deny my thirst for long, and take the cup with bound hands. He watches my drink before speaking, and the thought of poison briefly crosses my mind.
"You don't remember me, do you?" He questions me softly, "But I remember you." I scoot backwards, but am trapped by the walls of the wagon, he reaches out his hand, "Well, I don't remember your name….but the rest of you—" He runs his hand through my hair and then roughly pulls me to him by the base of my neck.
"Who are you?" I ask, trying to pull away. He only smirks,
"Your superior, that's really all the justification I owe you."
"My friends, they'll come after me." I warn.
"After a worthless whore? A foreigner, at that?" He laughs. "Yes, I remember you, the insolent one. The nymph-like serving girl who had the nerve to try and refuse ME!" Great, I think to myself. Yet again, I've found myself at the mercy of a mad-man. A mad man who thinks I look like a nymph. Is he trying to threaten me or impress me by hi poetic worldliness? He laughs again, "That rejection didn't work out too well, now did it? No, no, no, my dear, we were so very close." Oh Gods, he was one of those. One of the men, the pigs I vowed never to think of again, never to let have any power over me again.
He shoves me down and continues, "You were a slave at the villa of the fair Lady Secunda. I was one of the many who came to woo her, for she had both money and beauty. Needed to be shown her place as a woman though, as did you." He grabs the gag and ties it once again around my mouth, "I was rejected by her and her father then, but now as the commander of a legion, and as the captor of her slave, doubtless a runaway – how could she refuse?" He laughs again, downs the rest of the wine, and leaves me.
I am left alone until we reach the ports. For this, I am truly grateful. I feared that I was to be used as the communal bed-warmer (quite a euphemism, I assure you.) If that were the case, I doubt I would have survived the entire journey. But the commander has let no one near me, excepting a young boy who brought me food once. Perhaps the commander remembers our "short time together." Perhaps he was one of the ones who I tried so very hard to hurt in some way. But perhaps not, I always paid for it. I try not to think of those days, it only makes me feel small. Instead, I think only of Tristan, of escape. He'll come for me, I know it. And Galahad. My Brother! He is my brother, I know it now, he must be. And Tristan is my lover, he'll come for me! He see the fallen berries, the footprints and struggle in the dust, he'll know. Another part of my mind argues: it rained yesterday, the day before; he'll never see any signs of the struggle. But I have to suppress this part of my mind. I need hope; I cannot escape on my own! Tristan WILL come for me! Tristan will come...
Intrigued? No? Just a tidbit? She got a little desperate at the end there…anyway, review please! Well, i guess you don't have to review that chapter, it was reletively uneventful...but the rest should be up soon! Neveah