Let It Rain

I was lead to the woman's home then. It was a mean little home, and it suited the woman. She was elderly, and I remember marveling at the fact that she was still able to walk and move about. She glared first at Arthur, then at me, and then rasped, "This little stick of a girl is to help me?" Arthur made a positive noise and nudged me in her direction. I shook then, afraid of her. She reminded me of the witch tales my cousin used to tell me; her stooped posture, her yellowed eyes, her scratchy voice and her claw like fingers. She grinned at me as I trembled, revealing yellowing teeth, and said, "It is not me you should fear now, girl." She seized me by the arm then and practically yanked me into her hut. It smelled there, and I wrinkled my nose.

I had not, and have not since then, wished to be a boy more than in that moment. I curled up into a ball on the floor, pulling my knees up to my chin. The old woman looked at me as if I were a bug and said, "I am Pavi." I hesitated a moment, remembering clearly my cousin's tales of the witch. He had warned me to never tell a witch your name, as that was the way she controlled you. I sighed and then said, "Kate." She gave me an odd look at the sound of my name, but did not comment. Instead she said to me, "You will be weaving, washing and the like. You will be up at dawn, in bed by dusk. I will not have you conversing with those boys from the fortress, I simply won't. I have brought enough trouble into my home without you becoming their whore in the process." I went white at her words, but found my voice was absent. I fleetingly wondered if the witch had stolen it as payment.

For a month and a half I followed a rigid routine. I was out of bed as soon as the sun rose. I weaved until my hands bled and then continued on. She would take orders from the people living in and around the fortress, give the orders to me, and I would fill them. Yet I received no accolades for my work. I was inside the hut more often than not, and my spirits felt so low that the only way I was staying alive was through my work. The one good thing about Pavi was her skills at gossip. She would talk for hours on what was happening around us, even though most of the time it was useless. I hardly talked the entire time I lived there, and I hardly ate. I was already thin before I came to her, and by the time I had been there for a month, I was skin and bones.

One day, about two weeks after I began working for her, I broke into another one of her long speeches to ask who the healer was in these parts. She gave me an odd look and rasped, "Don't be daft. There is no 'healer' girl, besides that boy that they call a squire." My heart nearly stopped at this and I felt real fear for my friends. If they ever got hurt, there was a very slim chance that Jols would be able to know what to do. He was a good squire, an eager and smart boy, but he was no healer. I fretted so much that my weaving was affected and I was made to start over.

I was just beginning to think that everything would stay as they were, and that I was destined to be miserable forever, an event occurred that changed everything. It was, for me at least, another regular beginning to another regular day. I had woken up at dawn, made my bedroll and woke up the old woman. I was about to wash my face in the basin of water that was kept by the front of the door when I noticed that it was almost empty. In a dull voice I told her that I was going to refill it in the well that was near the compound. She made a noise of agreement, not fully awake yet, and I hurriedly took my leave before she could change her mind.

I stepped outside and blinked at the sudden light. I hadn't been outside in days, and it felt strange to be in the fresh air and natural light. I went to the well, keeping my head down the entire time. I was weak by then, lack of food sapping my strength. I stumbled twice on the way to the well, and when I made it I had to pause a moment. It was then that the commotion arose. I looked up in time to see the men come riding through the opened gates so fast that I thought a demon might be on their heels. They shouted for Jols frantically, riding right past me and I knew that someone was injured. Abandoning the bucket, I followed them, pushing my way past some of the other people who also rushed towards the knights to see what was happening.

When I reached them, I was spotted first by Gawain. He was dressed to the hilt in armor and almost covered in blood. I went to him and demanded, "Are you hurt?" He shook his head saying, "No. It is Gallin." I remembered him almost immediately, recalling his handsome face and large stature. I paled as I said, "What happened?" Gawain swallowed thickly before responding, visibly affected by what happened.

"An a-arrow. It went through…." I didn't hear the rest of what he was saying before the final riders came thundering through the gates. Draped over Arthur's saddle was the injured Gallin. From all appearances he was dead, unmoving and completely pale. I watched as Jols rushed from the building, looking frightened. Once again I knew that this was not a job for him, and it never would be. I felt a fire light inside of me and a new strength grew. Arthur's horse stopped mere inches away from me and the men rushed to pull Gallin from the saddle. Jols told them to lay him on top of a blanket on the ground, saying that he shouldn't be moved, but I knew this was a bad idea. I watched as the squire leaned over the profusely bleeding Gallin, his face growing paler by the minute.

"U-um… I can see his bone." He said, a note creeping into his voice as he did, one that I recognized as a tone of nausea. He licked his lips and prodded the wound. Everyone was silent then, watching with a strange kind of fascination as Jols attended the injured knight, or at least tried to. I felt eyes on me then, and I looked up in time to see Lancelot staring at me. There was almost a reproachful look in his gaze, as if he was silently asking me why I was letting this go on. I looked away then, back to Jols as he continued to prod at Gallin's arm. It was then that Gallin decided to regain consciousness, and he did it suddenly enough to startle the wits out of poor Jols.

Galahad and Bors were motioned to in that moment, and they both held Gallin down carefully. The poor man struggled anyway, howling in pain until his face was red. I felt for him, yet I still did not speak up. Part of me felt that this was the perfect revenge, as when I glanced at Arthur, I saw the anguish on his features as plain as day. I watched, ever mindful of the meaningful stares of Lancelot. My attention swiftly moved back to Jols as he suddenly announced, "It has to come off." The words sent a wave of shock through the group, and even I was taken aback. The terror on Gallin's face nearly broke my heart, along with his soft plea of, "No… please Jols, not my arm…."

"It doesn't have to come off."

The words erupted from me before I could stop them and everyone looked at me. Some of their faces were openly hostile, some were simply curious. I hesitated for a moment and then turned to Arthur. In the calmest voice I could muster I said to him, "I know I am just a woman to you, but you have to accept that I am also a healer and I can help this man. Give me one day, and I can save his arm. I promise you that." He seemed torn for a moment, and when he nodded at me, his eyes still appeared anguished. I nodded at him and then told the gathered men, "I need you to take this man inside and put him on a bed. I am going to need water, and I am going to need scraps of cloth." Nobody moved at first, and I began to despair, wondering if I was going to have to do it on my own.

It was Lancelot who moved first, barking at the others, "You heard her. Lift him." They obeyed Lancelot, and I hurried to follow them. I motioned to Gawain and he came over, leaning close to me as I breathlessly said, "I need my bags from Pavi's hut. Tell her where I am, but don't let her come for me… please, don't let her come." He nodded at me and then ran off in the direction of Pavi's hut, calling back, "I missed you Kate." I simply waved at him, unable to really let the comment sink in. I followed them as Gallin was taken to a room and then motioned for them to put him on the bed.

I examined the wound closely and grimly said, "I will not lie, Gallin. It is quite a wound. But I can save your arm." I told him to wiggle his fingers and he did, grimacing in pain. I smiled and said, "The pain is good, Gallin. It means that your arm is still working properly." He gave me an odd look and I nodded at him, giving him a comforting look in return. I was then handed the cloth and water. I began to wash the blood and dirt away from the wound and, in an attempt to get his mind off of the pain, I asked him what happened. His face contorted into a look of disgust as he says, "Woad." I did not know of what he spoke, but I simply nodded, waiting for the rest of the story. He was just finishing when Gawain came back with my bag, pushing his way through the crowds. I gave a look to Lancelot who immediately began to usher the men out of the room, ignoring their protests.

I motioned to Gawain and said, "I need you to boil some water for me, and put the crushed seeds into it. They're the ones in the smaller bag." He nodded and began to do as I say. Lancelot came toward me then and said, "What is that for?" I looked at him briefly before looking back at Gallin, answering, "For the pain." Gallin seemed to relax at this, softly whispering, "It hurts Kate." He sounded like a child in that moment and I felt my heart ache for him. I nodded at him, smiling at him sympathetically, and responded, "I know Gallin. The tea will help."

By the time the tea was made, Gallin was completely white. He sipped at the tea almost frantically, and within minutes he was sleeping. I sighed a little and then said, "Poor Gallin." I looked at him for a moment before moving towards my bag. My hands shook as I found what I was looking for. Both Lancelot and Gawain watched as I began to make the salve, both of them silent. I sighed a little as I said, "You should get some rest. There is nothing more that you can do." I was surprised when both shook their heads, a fierce loyalty being displayed. It touched me deeply, and I paused to smile at them both.

"Where have you been Kate?" Lancelot asked abruptly, sounding rather put out. I glanced at him and said, "I have been doing women's work." He didn't reply to that, but I could feel the confusion coming off of him in waves. He must have had a hard time trying to reconcile the two versions of Arthur he was being confronted with. I know now that it was wrong to be so angry with Arthur. It wasn't like he knew any different of women, especially of my kind. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be 'enlightened', he was certainly still in the dark to me.

I finished the salve quickly and began to apply it to Gallin's arm, glad that he was unconscious for it all. I recalled a similar incident happening in my village, and the man it happened to was not as lucky as Gallin. He was awake when my mother applied the salve, and everyone heard his pain when she did. I shook my head to clear it and wrapped up Gallin's arm tightly. I breathed out a sharp breath and said, "There. We just need to leave it be for now." For the moment, my confidence had never been stronger. I knew that I would be able to save Gallin's arm, and I knew he would be alright. And sure enough, by the time the next day rolled around, Gallin's arm was already healing and he claimed to be in far less pain than the day before.

When Arthur walked into the room exactly one day after we struck our bargain, I think he already knew what had happened. He was faced by three of his knights, all of whom were impressed by my fast acting skills and wanted me to be their healer. Lancelot was the one to present the case in very logical points, talking over them thoroughly until Arthur held up his hand to silence him. He examined Gallin's arm for himself and then began to nod, a pleased smile crossing his lips. Gawain reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. I put my hand on top of his for a brief moment, my eyes never leaving Arthur. I was exhausted, I was hungry, but the only thing I could think of was Arthur's approval. He has that effect on people.

He asked me to leave the room with him, and I nodded, following him obediently. He regarded me carefully as he said, "You have made quite the impression on my knights." I wanted to retort by saying that they were my friends before they were his knights, but I remained silent, waiting for him to continue. He sighed a little and said, "I cannot argue with your skills as a healer… yet you are so young, and you are a woman." I looked up at this and said, "Why should that be a problem? Like you, I am descendant from a line of warriors. Like you, I laugh and feel happiness; I cry and feel pain. My heart beats like yours, I bleed as you do, I see and hear and taste as you do. Tell me why my being a woman is a hindrance." He looked at me, and when he did I could almost hear what he was thinking. He was intrigued by what I was saying, I could tell.

When he smiled at me, I felt relief wash through me. Lack of sleep and food had made me emotional, and I immediately wanted to throw myself at him and hug him. Instead I simply smiled back. He bowed his head at me and then shocked me as he told me, "If you are willing… I would be most eager… most proud to have you sit at my table with the rest of the knights." My cheeks hurt as I smiled at him broadly, feeling as if I had crossed a major hurtle. The great Arthur had accepted me into his fold; he had called me to sit at his table… as an equal. It was almost too much to ask for.

I remember how the news had been broken to the others. Some were unhappy with the decision, but their opinions were changed once they were injured and I managed to heal them. When I first sat at the table, I recognized that I was in a unique situation for a woman, to be treated as an equal in a room full of men. I worked harder than they had to be there, but I had earned my place there. I left Pavi as soon as I could and moved into my very own room in the fortress. I felt no regret for leaving Pavi, and I daresay she felt the same. Still, whenever I had need of clothing, I went to her for it.

Years passed and I learned the heartache of losing friends. The culprit of these deaths was not always war. A sickness spread through the fortress one year, and took the lives of many, including the knight Gallin. It was then that I was forced to share my gifts as a healer to others, as I could not handle the task alone. It was the first time I worked alongside some of the knights, most notably the quiet Tristan and the stoic Dagonet. I found Dagonet in particular a most willing student.

I learned the pain of yearning for home and I felt the stabs of loneliness. The people living within the fortress began to know me as the healer to all, and I found myself receiving people of all kinds at all times of day and night. I lost many people, yet I saved many as well. I had blood on my hands just as the knights did. I learned things about the knights, things that I am sure their brothers-in-arms have no knowledge of. I learned of the ache that plagues Tristan's fingers from time to time; I learned of Dagonet's fear of water. I was privy to Galahad's near crippling shyness around women and Gawain's frustration at being the youngest in the company.

And as the years passed, I had to cope with the changes within my own body. Sometimes I hated them, wishing that I would stay a girl forever. I grew breasts and developed curves. I was no longer the twig I once was and yet I couldn't really be called average weight either. I got my monthly for the first time when I was thirteen and had to deal with it all on my own. And as I developed a woman's body, I began to develop a woman's yearnings. I wanted to learn what it would be like to fall in love.

I saw the knights grow up and begin to really discover women. I watched time and time again as they would attempt to seduce the local women. Sometimes it hurt to know that they desired women they hardly knew over a woman they had grown up with, who came from their own land. I watched as many produced bastards, although none so much as Bors, who fathered no less than eleven. I was with his lover Vanora for all of their births, and I sometimes caught myself wishing that it was me.

But one thing stayed pretty much the same. Lancelot. He was still the arrogant little boy he always was; only now his scope was much wider. He attempted to seduce more women than all the knights combined, and more often than not succeeded. Yet he never produced a single bastard, at least not to my knowledge. He never professed to love any woman or girl whose path he crossed. He offered none of these things upon meeting women, and I daresay they didn't expect them. What Lancelot was, and is, was beyond that. There was an understanding between them that they were not to have his love.

And I remained the sisterly figure to all even, eventually, to Arthur. I teased and joked with them, I was closer to them than most of their women, and they returned my gestures readily. They attempted to protect me from the realities of the world as much as they could. For example, they attempted to hide their trysts from me, especially Lancelot. When I would enquire after a woman he had been with, he would shrug it off and warn me not to mix with 'a woman of her type'. It was amusing at times, and I played along more often than not, but as it continued for years on end, I became very impatient with it.

A peculiar restlessness as settled into me recently, and I find I cannot escape it. The fact that our freedom looms tantalizingly over the horizon has made it even worse. I find myself looking out of my window longingly more and more, praying to my gods for time to speed up and release me from this torture. I have always planned on going home as soon as my freedom is handed to me, yet lately I wonder if it is such a wise plan. I have achieved something in this place, a kind of niche where I am given the opportunity to be myself. I do not know if the same freedom would be granted back in my village. I do not know if I will have kin there to greet me. In many ways, the knights are now my kin.

These sudden worries have plagued me, and I find I have lost sleep because of them. The others, at least most of them, seem to know what they want as soon as our fifteen years are up. I, on the other hand, have not resolved a plan for myself in way. I have spoken to Lancelot only once of my thoughts and his response was to urge me to return home, as if I had no other choice. He had told me that my heart belonged to Sarmatia, and always will. In some ways he is right. I dream of home more often than not, and it is as if I have not left. I can almost hear my cousin's laughter and see their faces. I can feel my mother's hands on my shoulders. I can see my father's smile. Yet when I wake, I am faced with the harsh reality that in my memories and dreams, time stands still. I have no way of knowing what Sarmatia might hold for me now.

I look at Lancelot and Arthur and I envy their confidence. They see things so clearly, and they know that they can accomplish their goals. Lancelot has eagerly spoken of his home to me on many occasions, often repeating details without realizing it. Arthur has spoken thusly of Rome, calling it organized and civilized. This kind of talk makes my very stomach hurt. They both disregard this land as if they had not lived within it for a large portion of their lives. They act as if there were nothing favorable about it, nothing that struck their fancy. It is as if everything they have accomplished or lost in this place is meaningless. It hurts me to think that they are so eager to abandon the friendship we have forged.

I feel as though they are eager to forget me.