Hope is the Thing with Feathers
The dreams continued to plague me to the point where I no longer slept. I would settle into the straw against a far corner and watch the stable hands go about their business all the while I worked on glowering. I think I must've been quite good at shooting daggers because eventually the stable boys were too afraid to look in at the raven-haired captive. Even Jols himself would refuse to look in at me when he came to inspect things.
I would never let on but it bothered me greatly that I had no ally among these men of honor. I also struggled to keep my thoughts bright. It was as though happiness was the last ray of light beaming through the ever dark, cloudy sky soon to be swallowed up by the growing vapor of obscurity. Sighing I shifted restlessly. It had been two nights since I had first met Arthur and his men and in that time none of them had been to question me further. I still lingered over what he had meant. I knew who I was. I was a girl, or more accurately a woman, I fought for my village I had two friends, I had a family, I would have a short life as a mindless drone an- when did I start thinking like that? Never before had I viewed my life as mindless. I was quite content with my life before I started scampering around the countryside.
The door opened interrupting my contemplations. Raising an eyebrow I noted that my visitor was none other than the ginger haired knight. Ah, and he carried with him a tray with a bowl and some kind of gruel. No doubt here to try and wheedle information from me. So cynical.
"For you." He set it down behind the bars I suppose he was assuming that I would crawl over and attempt to eat it. He could bugger off with that idea.
"How kind." I made no move, just glared unkindly. "And just who decided that after two days of not eating, now would be a great time for soup?"
He squat down, his hair hanging in ragged strands across his face; I thought he was trying to see me more clearly through the gloom but was failing miserably.
"Arthur doesn't believe in unnecessary cruelty." His voice was gruff and honest. I laughed, for the first time since Arlene disappeared, I laughed. It was a good sound.
"Is that why he locks away those who are in need of his aid?" Smirking I tried to hold back my chuckles, "I am truly, truly indebted."
It was quiet again as I shook my head sadly. All the words I could think to say were harsh and sarcastic. I expected him to next tell me that I still didn't know who I was or some such mystical, incredibly vague rubbish. Either that or haul me out and give me a good whipping until I told him something of use. Instead he was pensive for a moment, gazing silently at the straw and then he looked up carefully peering into the shadow.
"Move so that I may see you," I made no such motion. Sighing with frustration, he tried again, "I am Gawain."
"Rather unpleased to meet you my good sir." I could be cocky when there were bars separating us, of course. Take away those bars and I'd probably still be a curled up ball of emotions, rocking back and forth like a mad woman.
"I can take you out of there you know." My eyes grew wide with fear. How did he know what I was thinking? "Arthur told me to take you training." Phew, that was clos- what?
"Training?" My voice was shrill and girly as Gawain stood up and moved to open the gate. He didn't fear me anymore than he feared the march hares. "For what?"
"Well, why don't you come out and see?" There was a touch of a smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips as he stood holding the gate open. I was hungry, it was true, and tired, no doubt but perhaps this was more important now. Cautiously I rose to my feet and moved from the shadow to the light. Standing just a few steps from him I inspected him closely, he held no weapons. It was possible that he would not harm me, he didn't look as threatening as the others but I was sure he could be just as deadly. Casting my head downwards, I moved quickly past him.
"Stop there." He was so nonchalant as he caused me to stop still in my tracks with just two words. I was bitter and angry with myself for being such a docile fool, for being afraid. "This way." Instead of leading me to the door he took me down several rows of stalls until we approached a large square center where the wings of the stables met. There on benches were the rest of the knights, minus Arthur. I hung back as Gawain went before me making sure there was no escape for me. The other knights began to notice I was there as they were pulled away from their various duties… if duties were sleeping, eating and messing with horses.
Gawain ignored the fact that they were even there.
"Can you ride?" He motioned to the horses in the stables to the right. I couldn't hold down the smirk I unwillingly allowed to grace my face. Smirking at the people who had locked you away and were known for being bloodthirsty killing machines was probably a very bad idea.
"Not very well."
"Then we'll start there." He wandered off to fetch a suitable steed. I missed Chance, I was certain he had died… in fact that's probably what was in the soup. I shuddered.
"Still frightened?" Galahad seemed amused. I ignored him and looked away, too timid to do much else. What backbone did I have? Lancelot looked up and smirked happily he obviously enjoyed my suffering. Actually I think the only ones who didn't were the large bald man and his friend.
"Here, take his bridle." I received the straps of leather from Gawain and preceded to stand aimlessly with a horse in the middle of perhaps the largest stable I had ever seen in my life. What did he expect me to do?
"Is it such a good idea to give'r a horse?" The large man spoke, looking interestedly at the affair while munching down on something that looked far tastier than my horse soup. Assuming it was horse soup.
"Perhaps not." Gawain sighed and snatched the reins from my hand and quickly tied the young, chestnut coloured mare to a post. "You can fight?"
Could I? Probably not by their standards but I could do alright. Did I really want them to know that though? I just wanted them to let me go and if they thought I was really harmless then maybe they would.
"No." I answered quickly, probably too quickly. It was evident that he did not believe me. The men looked more interested now as they moved to find better viewing spots. Before I knew what was happening Gawain was circling me. Intimidated wasn't even the word for what I felt.
"I find that very hard to believe." I must've looked like a frightened rabbit as the scarred man began to make protests. He told Gawain to leave me be but Gawain replied that he knew what he was doing. Did he really? If he knew how terrified I was, would he still be doing this?
"What makes you believe I can?" Why was I speaking so much, why was I asking questions? My body wanted to run. My mind was screaming at me to run like I had in the forest, granted, that did not do much good. Nevertheless, he couldn't believe that I could fight. My war paint was long gone, my clothes simply looked like they had been torn to look that way and I was dirty enough to hide my scars only my tribal bands showed.
"This." I had no time to register what he had said before I found myself on the floor. He had pushed me! That great oaf of a man had shoved me onto the floor.. the hard floor! Had they no manners?
"What do y-" A swift kick to the ribs instantly silenced my protest. Keeping my groans of pain to myself I didn't notice the knights stirring and talking among themselves. The scar-faced man said something about Gawain being wrong. I didn't know all I knew was that he was going to hit me again and I had to do something about it.
With what looked like regret in his eyes he moved to kick me once more and as I was already leaning to one side I simply swept my left foot out sharply and knocked him to the floor. The thud of his sturdy body hitting the dirt was the only thing heard in the stables now. Still stunned at the stupidity of what I had just done I struggled to my feet in time to meet the swing of his fist. Catching his fist with both hands I was taken back by the force behind the blow but it had been so long since I had fought. In the next instant I brought my knee up and caught him hard enough in the soft flesh of his stomach to throw him off guard for a few more seconds. I felt like screaming at myself, questioning my own sanity. I could not win a fight against this man, not ever. I was lucky now because he was not intending to kill me and therefore his blows didn't have much meaning behind them.
By the time I realized he had recovered he already had his hands around my neck and was ramming my back into the hardwood of the support poles. I would have splinters the size of logs in my back after that.
"Aoife you're such a weakling. It's a splinter!" Brennus seemed to enjoy my tears as I dropped the stick and held my tiny finger in my palm. "Grow up."
I wasn't that much of a coward was I? Angered at my own cry of pain I brought my head forward with all the force I could muster and hit him square between the eyes. He flew back sharply clutching his nose and a roar went up from the knights.
"Bitch!" He screeched in amazement, and, was that amusement? Blood began to run down his nose and pooled just above his lip. He appeared amazed and touched it once more studying the blood on his fingertips.
"Wimp." I retorted with a wry grin. The men laughed and shouted for more. Gawain seemed to have an idea and reached for a blunt sword and tossed it near my feet. He knew I could not seriously hurt him.
"We'll see." He motioned for me to pick up the sword as I noted he already had one in hand. They must train here, as I now observed there were many training utensils strewn about the place. I kicked the sword up into my hand as I had done before with the broom handle and just gave him a look that told him all he needed to know. This was beginning to be fun. I knew nothing but scrapping, that is what I had done since I was a little girl and as I said, I always thought I would cease to exist if I stopped fighting. If this man could teach me to defeat new enemies then maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
He began to twirl the sword in a rather threatening manner as he moved closer to me I hadn't ever seen anyone do that before. Brennus tried but never had any success.
Not knowing quite what to do I just stood still showing him that I wasn't afraid. He had to make a blow sometime I just had to wait until he did. Once he lunged forward I quickly met his attack and pushed him backwards. His strength jolted me, I was not used to this. Ducking another swipe, I desperately tried to think of how to get out of this.
My sword met with his and I was jolted by his sheer strength, I was so out of my depth. Clumsy Norsemen, I could handle, skilled Sarmatian knights? Never. I decided it was time to fight dirty. In a flash I knocked his sword to the side and held his wrist there while I kicked him forcefully in the shin. He cried in pain, and for some reason it gave me pleasure. That had never happened before. I enjoyed fighting but I didn't enjoy causing pain or death. What was happening to me? I almost dropped my sword as my brows furrowed in concentration at these new feelings. In those moments Gawain had time to send me sprawling backwards into a saddle rack with enough force to knock me head over heels behind it. Sending out my hands to catch myself I caught the edge of an arrow that had fallen from its bag when I had hit the rack. A thing red line ran from side to side across my right palm, the blood oozing slowly outwards.
With a huff I brought myself to my feet and looked carefully around for the sword I had dropped. The men were laughing gleefully, particularly Gawain who stood back with a smile that lit up his whole face. My whole countenance darkened as I looked upon him, I would show him. Walking around to the other side of the rack I held my injured hand within the other as I continued to scour the ground for my sword. They suddenly became quiet.
"Are you hurt?" Was all Gawain said, with an unusually serious tone.
"Of course I'm hurt you great buffoon!" I could almost see the smoke pouring from my ears, my whole face felt hot with rage.
"Did any blood get on the ground?" Galahad's face too went red as he moved somewhat forward and called out to me.
"I don't know how should I know?" Stupid boy.
Gawain came close but kept some distance.
"It is only a small cut."
"A cut is a cut, Gawain. There is still blood." Lancelot was rather solemn and stood slowly; they were all watching me with what struck me as apprehension. Why did they fear me now?
"Have none of you bled before?" Confused and angry I wondered why they would not tell me what was happening. They said nothing, merely stayed back. I saw Jols run from the room and I looked frantically to Gawain who stared at my hand as though he should do something, but was having an inner struggle.
It was the blood, they were transfixed by the blood… but not just blood, they hadn't cared when Again took a blow, it was my blood that concerned them so. To test my theory I held out my hand and stepped towards Again much like a child with a muddy hand would do to another child.
He snapped to attention and all but leapt backwards. Stopping, confused, I stared down at my own hand. I did not understand. Did they just want to mix with the blood of a Briton? I couldn't make myself see sense in this. Just then Arthur burst through the door in a flash of metal and red, demanding that Jols secure the door. I met his gaze, hoping he would see that I was so very lost.
He did.
"She does not understand-"
"Then perhaps it isn't so!" Lancelot all but shouted, cutting Arthur off. Arthur gazed calmly back at Lancelot who seemed deeply upset.
"Still, she can fight." Announced Galahad to anyone who cared to listen.
"So can any Briton." Replied the stoic Tristan who stood staring at me with a hidden curiosity behind his veiled eyes.
"Arthur, she is just a gi-" Began the man with the scar.
"She's a woman, and an innocent one at tha'." Agreed the large man.
"Dagonet, Bors, stay out of this. All of you stay out of this." One word from Arthur and they all kept quiet but how they felt was still obvious in each of their eyes.
My gaze returned to the cut on my hand, it was already healing up quite nicely. If I pointed that out then maybe they would realize there was nothing to worry about.
"Look! It's healing up already. No worries!" I held up my hand with a forced grin. I wasn't expecting the looks of horror that I received. "Is there something wrong?"
Gawain's eyes drew shut in pain; Lancelot gaped at me before clenching his jaw and turning away. Dagonet and Bors stared slack-jawed, while Galahad stood still in his tracks, eyebrows furrowed, while Tristan almost smiled… almost.
"Put her back." Voice firm, and emotion pushed down into the depths of his soul Arthur looked to Gawain and then back at me. "Put her back."
Put me back? He can't.
"No!" He stopped midway to the door and turned, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "How can you do this? I don't know what I have done to you all or who you think I am but I can assure you sir I mean you no harm. I can't even do you any harm! I am just a girl! I have a family, friends, I live in a little hut, I eat, drink and dream the same things you do! The longer I stay here the longer it will take for me to get home, for me to find Arlene! I don't know what I have done to deserve this punishment I do not understand this cruelty. Please! Just help me, please!" I pleaded with all of what was left of my heart. He was good man inside I knew it. It was silent as I sat on my knees begging for my freedom to go home. To find my mistress and to be back fighting the Saxon invaders, back where I belonged. His eyes bore into mine. He knew - he knew I had no idea what was going on, he knew I was innocent I could see it. He would let me go, he would.
"Dream, you say?"
"Yes, I dream."
"Are these good dreams?"
Silence. I was incapable of lying to this man. "You do not sleep now, do you?"
I shook my head quietly.
"I do not know why, I cannot find peace my Lord." I all but whispered this part. "Ever since I started this journey I have encountered feelings and things that I have never known."
His interest was piqued now along with the rest of the knights. If I were going to spill my guts, now would be a marvelous time. It may even save my life, as Arthur seemed intent on keeping me captive. He strode towards my kneeling form and crouched down on one knee, his gaze lifting mine.
"What things have you seen?"
Swallowing, I held back the tears that none of them could see. I would not allow myself to ever cry before these men, it was a sign of weakness that my uncle had taught me never to reveal.
"In the hills," I swallowed once more, licking my lips, "there was a slope… a storm came and I could no longer see the trail ahead. I left Chance-" I caught his look of confusion, "he was my horse. I left him on the trail and I climbed up out of the wind. There was a smell. A horrid smell." I shook my head and closed my eyes wondering whether I should continue or not. They would think me mad. "I was curious, I thought I heard voices. I thought it was just the exhaustion but I followed anyway. I went into the trees… and… something moved, there was something or someone in there." Frowning I focused on his face once more, it seemed more empathetic.
"Go on little one." Keeping down the smile that threatened to show itself, I swallowed back the tears that stung my eyes.
"I asked whatever it was to show itself. Then, well then the strangest thing happened… there was laughter on the wind, all around. Like, like imps they were. I called out once more and the sound halted so suddenly."
"Then what?" Dagonet looked to me, absorbed by my tale.
"Then I ran," I said it simply, lightening my tone. "I ran as hard and as fast as I could. Eventually I looked behind me and ended up falling to my hands and knees. It was then that I realized I had found the source of the smell…" Sitting up onto my haunches I looked at each man in turn before my eyes rested on Arthur once more, "There were bodies. Row upon row of bodies… faceless men, skewered on trees. Rotting, they had been there for sometime… the maggots they…" trailing off I went into a daze as the vivid images returned to my head. "Some of them, they had no skin… no features…"
A hand rested on my shoulder and I looked into the face of the man from my dream. Jumping back in surprise I landed on my backside with a thud only to realize that it was Arthur and not the imaginary man.
"We have seen the same, girl, you are not alone." I supposed Dagonet thought that was comfort.
"Then you understand! Please. Now will you help me? Arlene, she is still out there and I must find her. I must." Again Arthur touched my shoulder in comfort but this time I did not move away.
"Your friend isn't coming back." Lancelot seemed a cold and unfeeling creature, and at that moment I could not have despised anyone more. Before anyone could reprimand him he turned and stalked off.
Breathing out in disbelief I gazed sadly at Arthur.
"He is wrong isn't he?" He made no move. "Lancelot is wrong?" For the first time since we met, he averted my eyes.
They say that time heals… time never did heal. My suffering, as my scars, only strengthened with age…