Arelenne was not unpleased by Tristan's revelation, but she was surprised at the extent of the man's feelings. Since Tristan obviously had his eye on her, she was unsure why the man had never sought her out before, for physical or emotional comfort especially when their other comrades had lovers and Tristan and Arelenne were essentially alone. Maybe Tristan didn't know how to ask for what he wanted, indeed Arelenne had never seen him with anyone, nor had he spoken of bed mates. However, Arelenne had never sought out Tristan either. Perhaps they were both to blame, each assuming the other wouldn't be interested. Well, the time for dancing around each other was over; after all, wasn't that why she had broached the subject of riding home together? Wasn't it really a way for her to ease into something more than friendship with this man? Now on the eve of their departure, Arelenne knew she was not prepared to let Tristan just disappear from her life, but the sudden change in her life from wanting something more to having it handed to her was a little unnerving.
"You were never going to tell me, were you"
Tristan shrugged and looked away saying "Didn't feel like breaking our friendship if you weren't interested and I didn't want to be alone, thought it was easier to be friends than be ignored."
"I do care for you Tristan, you know that don't you" asked Arelenne"Through the years you've become very important to me and now that we are almost free I knew you would return to your people and they are a long way from my home. I feared I would never see you again and that saddened me deeply. This morning I suggested we ride home together because I didn't want us to be apart just yet and I thought that maybe then I would have some time to tell you how I felt. If you weren't interested then we could have simply gone our separate ways, but if you were interested, well, we could have worked something out."
Tristan stared at her, eyes full of wonder, belly full of flutters and heart relieved that, for the present at least, he could let go and there was truly someone there to catch him.
"Oh" was all Tristan could say.
Arelenne raised an eyebrow at her friend and smiled.
"Enough of this now, we have both revealed a great deal this day, let us turn to the present as I think the future will unfold quite nicely by itself" she stated confidently. "Come now, my friend, you are injured and you need to finish washing, will you let me tend you"
"I choose no other" was the heartfelt reply.
Arelenne sat and watched Tristan sleep and pondered how suddenly her life had changed. Indeed, her life had taken a most unexpected but not unpleasant turn. Up unto this morning, the only thing that had occupied her thoughts was her impending discharge from Roman service. Now, half a day later, having fought another battle and protected her injured friend, she discovered she had gained a potential lover. Of course, they had to work on that but there was time, now that they would soon be free to return to Sarmatia.
A few hours earlier Arelenne had helped Tristan back to his quarters after their bath. She had sat Tristan on his bed and in the soft glow of candlelight, she tended to her friend's injuries. She applied henbane leaves to the injured ribs and securing them with strips of cloth wound around Tristan's bruised chest. She had then laid the knight on his bed and carefully rubbed a mixture of henbane sap and vinegar onto Tristan's brow. The mixture would ease Tristan's headache and also help him sleep. Soon enough Tristan drifted into a healing repose and Arelenne sat next to him, holding his hand and quietly telling him of her hopes for their future.
Arelenne smiled as she gently brushed errant wisps of hair from Tristan's brow. How many times in the past had she done this? Indeed, here she was less than a day from freedom and she was still looking after Tristan. Not that she minded, of course, after all she had been looking after Tristan since the day they met. She thought back to the first time she had seen the man. Oh he wasn't a man then. He was a mere child of ten. So young, one of the youngest the Romans took that season…
The Romans swept through Sarmatian lands every five years or so, gathering all the boys from ten to fifteen. Some Sarmatian tribes protested but resistance was always brutally suppressed and the boys forcibly removed from their rebellious settlement. More often than not, as punishment for resisting, the settlement was torched, the women raped and the men slaughtered. Indeed, many a boy, conscripted into service, saw his family decimated and his home destroyed as he was led away to defend the Empire from rampaging, uncivilised raiders.
Arelenne remembered how she felt when the Romans came to her village. She had always known that the time would come when she, too, would have to serve the Empire. She had never questioned herself, her situation or her future. She had been taught to fight and to ride, as her father and grandfather for her mother had no sons, but her mother had gifted her with the knowledge of healing. She was confident in herself and in her abilities. So on that fateful day, with stoic acceptance, she fare welled her family and mounted her steed. Bors had been there too and despite a bit of a grumble, as was Bors' way, he too had left his family without a struggle. They were both old enough to know what repercussions would be meted out to those left behind if they had resisted. Similarly, when they rode into Lancelot's village, she remembered how the men stood defiant, ready to object to the Romans' demands. However, any potential trouble was avoided when the boy strode forth, declaring his desire to serve.
That season, when Arelenne was enlisted, she remembered riding to many villages and settlements. Some offered their sons without a fight and others argued the covenant forged centuries before. Arelenne recalled one settlement in particular that was not prepared to acquiesce to Roman demands.
When the Romans arrived at the settlement, the tribesmen, old and young, men and women, stood fast, ready to defend their sons and their way of life. Arelenne remembered the Roman Commander yelling at the villagers. He remembered how the officer reminded the villagers of their duty to the Empire and that their sons were obligated to serve the Empire because the Sarmatians had lost the war. His speech, of course, had no effect. So instead, he advanced towards a beautiful Sarmatian woman who stood proud with her young son beside her. The officer demanded she hand over her child. She refused. He attempted to drag the child away but she held her son tightly and proceeded to insult the Romans and their Empire. The officer was furious and it was obvious to all that she would pay a high price for her insolence. The Commander looked at the woman with disgust and coolly ordered his men to raise the settlement to the ground and kill all who resisted.
The insurrection was over before it had started. Dead and dying tribes' folk littered the area, men, women and children. The few surviving boys were ordered, at the point of the sword to leave with the Romans or face death. All the survivors, bar one, assembled and under armed guard, were placed in a cart. However, the young boy who had been at the center of the melee either didn't hear the ultimatum or simply ignored it. He lay on the ground, sobbing quietly, as he clutched the bloodied body of his dead mother. Arelenne remembered looking at the boy, thinking how sad it was that this little boy was now on his own in a very unfriendly world. It was at that moment, she also realized that the Roman officer, with sword drawn, was marching across the village common towards the grieving child and was obviously intent on slaying the boy where he laid. Arelenne, for reasons she never understood, leapt off her horse and dashed to the child wrenching him from his slain mother and standing between him and the advancing officer.
"He will ride with us Sir" she declared. "He will fulfill his obligations, I will see to it."
The Roman eyed her suspiciously but finally nodded his reluctant approval.
"See that he does or you both die" he declared, as he pointed his sword at the boy and the girl to emphasis his words.
Arelenne turned to the slightly elder child and stated"You must come now. You will die if you stay here. Come with me and I will look after you."
Arelenne didn't want to put the child in the cart with the other boys in case he tried to escape. However, she also knew that the boy was too small to ride all the way to their new post on his own. So accepting that there was no alternative, she decided to put the boy on her horse. That way she could ensure the boy was safe and that they both survived the journey.
"What is your name"
"Tristan" was the frightened response.
"Hello Tristan. I am Arelenne. How old are you"
"Twelve" replied the boy a little nervously.
"Twelve" Arelenne repeated, surprised that the child was so young compared to the other boys the Romans had taken, or at least the boys, she was still eleven but taller and more mature than him.
The boy nodded in confirmation.
"You can ride with me, all right" said Arelenne, as she gently took the child's hand and led him over to her horse.
Tristan nodded his agreement and was lifted up on to the large horse with difficulty by his companion.
Bors looked on in amazement as Arelenne settled the boy on the horse.
"Are you mad" he asked his friend. "You can't look after this boy. Life is going to be hard enough."
Despite his complaining, Bors rummaged in his bags and pulled out his spare cloak and some food.
"Here take this, it's going to get colder and wetter as we travel west. You will need this later" he said, handing over the brown cloak.
"It's yours" the boy pointed out.
"It's yours now. Keep it."
The boy nodded his thanks, as he fingered the coarse cloth.
"And this" said Bors as he held up the food"save this for later. We've a long way to ride and you will get hungry. Arelenne can look after it for you."
"What is it" asked the boy as he curiously eyed the round, red object in Bors' hand.
"It's an apple. Haven't you ever seen an apple before"
"No" breathed the boy solemnly.
"Where I come from we grow them on trees. They're good for you. Don't you grow food here" asked Bors as he looked around the devastated village.
"No. We move about."
"Hmpff" grunted Bors. Something to be said for settling in one place, hethought.
"Thank you" Tristan said as he tentatively took the fruit, examining it from every angle.
"Doesn't say much, does he" Bors said looking at Arelenne.
"We can't all be as wordy as you my friend"
Bors snorted and clapped a hand on young Tristan's shoulder saying…
"Arelenne's a good person. You listen to her all right? She'll guide you well."
Arelenne nodded her thanks to Bors, climbed on her horse and awaited the order to ride. She looked at the child behind her and pondered what it meant to have the responsibility of caring for the boy. She noticed the other boys from Tristan's tribe had dark face markings but Tristan didn't have any. Tattoos were a mark of manhood in Sarmatian tribes. Usually by twelve a boy had earned the right to wear the markings of his people. Arelenne's tribe tattooed their arms, others tribes their chest or back. It just depended on where you were from. She also noted that some of the boys wore braids in their hair but Tristan had none of those either. Why that was so, she wasn't sure but she was determined that this orphaned boy would learn the ways of his forefathers and become a member of his tribe, even though his home was destroyed and most of his people were dead.
When he is old enough I will arrange for his people to mark his face and braid his hair, Arelenne decided. But that's still a few years away yet. Plenty of other things for him to learn in the meantime like riding, sword fighting and maybe I can even teach him how to use a bow…
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tiny voice asking…
"How old are you"
"I'm eleven" Arelenne replied with all the confidence she could muster.
"Oh" was the soft reply. The boy looked at her with awe. "Really"
"Yes really" replied Arelenne with a broad smile.
Dark, penetrating eyes seemed to pierce Arelenne's soul, as the child assessed his rescuer. Then the boy asked a question that would trouble Arelenne throughout the years to come…
"When I fall will anyone be there to catch me"
The question was so odd. No one assumed they would fall and most people trusted that if they did fall, then they wouldn't get hurt, not that someone would be there to catch them. But Tristan clearly expected an answer and obviously it meant something to him. So Arelenne replied with what she hoped was a response that would ease whatever fears the boy carried.
"I don't know what you mean when you say when you fall? However, if you fall, I will catch you but you won't fall. You are safe here with me, as long as you hold on and don't let go."
Tristan considered the answer and with a nod of acceptance, lowered his head, and waited for them to ride. For her part, Arelenne had no intention of letting either of them fall but for safe measure, she stretched her hand back and placed the boy's arms around her waist and held them firmly, while she held the reins in the other hand.
As they turned away from the smoldering ruins of Tristan's village and on to an uncertain future, Arelenne was comforted by the thought that she would one day return to her home. However, when their service was completed where would Tristan go? He didn't have a home anymore.
Fifteen long years had passed. Tristan had grown to be a quiet, some would even say, sensitive man but there was nothing weak about him. Indeed, Tristan had become a remarkable scout, probably the best bowman they had ever seen, thanks to her training, and an extraordinary horseman. He was a fearsome warrior and a proud member of his tribe. When he returned from his first battle the other boys from his tribe had braided his hair to identify him as a warrior and tattooed his face with their peoples' markings. He had earned his tattoos and braids and wears them still with honor and pride. He is the last of those boys taken that day; the others have long since perished in one battle after another. His skills had earned him a place at Arthur's round table as a knight and today his determination and allegiance would be rewarded with freedom.
They say when you sleep, you look younger, Arelenne thought, as she gently fidgeted with Tristan's braids. I suppose that's true, because Tristan you certainly don't look like a man who has spent well over half your life fighting to stay alive.
Arelenne's thoughts then turned to the conversation she'd had earlier that day with Tristan about returning to Sarmatia…
"Where will you go Tristan" she had asked.
"Home" was the simple reply.
Where is your home Tristan? She had thought. Where does your heart lie?
Arelenne smiled as she remembered saying that they could leave together and how Tristan had looked surprised by the suggestion. Yes, they would ride home together and…suddenly it all became so very clear. What a fool she had been.
You said you would go home Tristan but your people drift with the seasons. Those not killed that terrible day are long gone my friend. Where were you going to go?
She knew Tristan didn't have a home anymore; why had she assumed Tristan would return to a place he barely remembered or to a people that may have ceased to exist after fifteen years. What Arelenne had failed to realize, until now, was that Tristan had made his home wherever the knights were. Therefore, Britain had become his home but when they left, he wouldn't go with them because he didn't belong in their tribes. So while Arelenne and the other knights prepared for freedom and home, Tristan had prepared for abandonment. Such a realization saddened Arelenne to her core.
Oh my dearest love. How these last days must have weighed on your heart.
"You are not alone Tristan" she whispered. "You'll never be alone again. You will come home with me and you will be welcome amongst my people. You are a Sarmatian knight and my friend. You have earned your freedom and your place in any Sarmatian tribe. Bors, Vanora and the children will be there too. We will be a family, your family. Never alone again, I promise."
Tristan began to stir but Arelenne adjusted the old brown cloak over Tristan; the one Bors had given that first day in his village. Arelenne smiled as she tucked it around her friend. Throughout the years, whenever Tristan was injured, ill or even a little insecure he would want that cloak and today was no different. For all the furs he had to keep himself warm, it was the gift from a generous stranger that had comforted him the most down through the years. As Tristan stirred once more, Arelenne leant forward and pressed her lips to his brow.
"Shhhh" she cooed. "It's all right Tristan, I'm here."
"Arelenne" asked a sleep laden voice.
"Yes" she replied. "Lay still. You are injured, remember"
"I fell, didn't I"
"Yes but I was there to catch you" she stated, smiling at her friend and squeezing his hand.
Tristan's eyes remained closed but he smiled at the comment and squeezed Arelenne's hand in return.
