Disclaimer: See part one
Tired
I never liked the fortress at night. Things happen at night that would never happen during the day. The men gather in a particular courtyard to indulge themselves in wine, women and often song. I usually make a note of staying away from there, not trusting the Roman soldiers when they drink. I hear them sometimes from my room, laughing and joking loudly, obviously affected by their wine. They gamble, and more often than not their games turn vicious. I receive many of them in the middle of the night, usually bleeding profusely.
I pray to the gods that I might be spared this tonight as I wearily push open the door to my home, shutting it behind me with a quick little movement of my foot. I lift my bag from my shoulder, wincing as it jostles my heavily bruised fingers. I drop my bag in the middle of the floor and flex my fingers slowly, hissing in a breath as the ache there increases. Too exhausted to tend to it right now, I simply tighten the bandages that I put on earlier and head over to bed. I collapse onto it and lie down, groaning as my sore feet are finally given a respite.
It seemed the work would never end, especially after the trouble at Otri's. I had barely had time to salvage what was left of my dignity before I was cornered by people wanting me to cure their various aliments, and those of their families as well. The little girl was so exhausted near the end of it all that I had to carry her all the way back to her home. We caught Vanora just as she was about to go out, and the little girl raced inside after thanking me, eager to tell her brothers and sisters about her day. Vanora and I were headed in the same direction, and so we walked together for awhile. She inquired after my hand and I gave her the amended version of the story, telling her that I injured it while at Otri's and leaving it at that.
I sigh a little, raising my good hand to my temple. I hear the men laughing from the courtyard, followed by the sound of breaking pottery. I turn onto my side, trying to escape it all when I hear the sound of a woman's voice breaking through. I cannot make out the words, but it doesn't matter. As soon as I hear it I find myself imagining what it would be like to be her; wanted by the men, probably pretty and free of the worries that seem to plague me on a daily basis. I feel my mood darken and sigh again; wishing fruitlessly that it didn't have to be like this. I seem to be ruled by my work, though the thought of reducing it brings me up short.
The fact of the matter is I cannot reduce my work or change what I am doing in any way. If I do, I will be seen as incompetent, and perhaps people will look at me and say, "Ah, you see? Women aren't capable of handling men's work." My head begins to throb at the weight of my heavy thoughts, and I use my good hand to massage my temples, trying to alleviate the sudden pain. Still, I cannot help but wonder at my fate. Am I destined to remain as I am for the rest of my life: a healer first and foremost? Am I destined to be alone? My tired body begs for rest and my eyes close of their own accord. I can only hope that within sleep, I will find refuge from the pain in my head.
The night brings with it peculiar dreams. I see fire, and the dream is vivid enough for me to imagine I feel heat on my face. I am eleven years old again, brought here to Briton against my will. Yet my mother is standing next to me, her grip on my hand tight. I look up at her to see her impassive face as she watches the homes in front of us burn. She turns to look at me and the dream shifts dramatically. Instead of seeing my mother, I am looking into the face of Arthur. His eyes flash as he bends slightly at the waist to murmur in my ear, "They come closer every day."
"Who?" I ask, my voice sounding incredibly young to my own ears. He ignores me, looking back to the fire. I follow his gaze and gasp in horror when I see the bodies of children lying amongst the remains of the building. Arthur speaks again, his voice suddenly older and strange to my ears as he says, "Are you ready?"
My reply is lost as I abruptly wake from the dream, sitting upright in bed with a loud gasp. Confusion settles in upon me for a moment, and my eyes dart around the darkened room, searching for answers. When I regain my senses, I lie back down with a sigh, bringing a hand to my forehead. The dream stays with me and I am still deeply disturbed by it. It felt so real. The image of the dead children flash through my mind like lightning and I shudder, feeling unnerved that my own mind could create such a scenario. I close my eyes and try to mentally will it all away.
Still, as a gust of cold wind floats through my room, I cannot help the thought that there are dark times ahead. Something deep down inside me is telling me that something is wrong. I shake my head a little, trying my best to dismiss it as a misguided reaction to the dream. I get out of bed, walking over to my small window and stare outside. The world outside is silent once again, and I feel relief at that. I stare up at the sky, quickly making out the stars. A memory comes back to me, sudden and unbidden, but not unwelcome.
I remember once when I was young, perhaps five or six, my father woke me up during the night. I had been groggy, and he placed a hand over my mouth gently to keep me from speaking and waking my mother. He scooped me up from my blankets and took me outside into the cold night air. I remember having seen my breath on the air as my father carried me to the outskirts of our small village. He pointed up at the sky, and I had strained to see what he was pointing out to me.
"You see that star there?" he asked me, glancing at me briefly before looking back up at the sky. I made an affirmative noise, and I remember thinking that that particular star seemed to shine extra bright when he pointed it out to me. He gave me an affectionate squeeze as he told me, "That's where your ancestors are. They will always be up there, looking down on us and protecting us. The gods put them there, Kate. It is a place of honour. Someday, I will be up there too." I had shaken my head, my young mind unable to fathom the idea that he would be dead someday. He laughed a little and said to me, "You are a gifted healer, girl, but I daresay you aren't that good." He tickled me a little then and I giggled, squirming in his arms.
Eventually, we fell silent again, looking back to the stars. That one star seemed to wink at me as I looked at it, and I made a promise right then and there that I would honour my ancestors. No matter what happened; I would make them and my father proud. My eyes seek out that star as I stand at the window now, and I feel almost as I did when I was a child, small and in complete awe of the skies above me. I smile a little into the darkness and my whisper is swallowed by the wind and carried up to the skies.
"Ancestors, I beg of you, lend me your strength. I feel the winds changing around me even now… something is about to happen; something horrible. I can feel it."
After lingering for a moment longer at the window, I turn away and slip beneath my blanket once more. Feeling comforted now, sleep returns to me quickly. As I slip into the state that is not quite sleep, and yet not awake either; I imagine that the warmth of the blanket is actually my father's embrace. My sleep is undisturbed by any more bad dreams.
Morning comes faster than I had imagined was possible. For the first time in a long while, I wake slowly. Though I am still plagued by both the pain in my hand and the nightmare that had come to me last night, I am able close my eyes and will the negativity away. I pull my blanket over my head, curling up into a small ball. I smile to myself as the memory that there is barely five days left until freedom. Giddiness washes over me and my smile gets a little wider. I yawn widely and stretch out my whole body, all the way down to my toes. I curl up again, wanting to sleep longer for once when there is a knock at my door. I slump a little in disappointment and call out, "Who is it?"
"It is I." comes the reply, and I quickly recognize Tristan's voice. I sit up in bed, throwing back the covers and loudly say, "One moment please." I make myself presentable and then head for the door. When I open it, Tristan gives me one of his rare half-smiles and asks, "Late morning?" I return it with a little grin of my own and reply, "I had been hoping for one. What is it Tristan? Your fingers again?" He nods a little and I open the door fully, motioning for him to come inside. He immediately goes to sit at the table, holding out his hand to me.
This has become a kind of routine between the two of us in the last few years. Every couple of months his fingers give him trouble, becoming stiff and painful for him to move. I apply the regular rounds of ointments and treatments, and he makes his usual empty promises to take it easy on his hand. I enjoy his company, as he is a wonderful listener. I have also noticed him looking at me with respect open on his features. It is nice to see, as I usually never receive such an open demonstration of approval from a man.
"I heard the noise last night," I begin as I rummage around for the ointment I need, "sounded like you were having fun." Tristan makes an affirmative noise and says, "Galahad in particular. Too much ale." I grin a little and make a little noise of triumph when I find the jar I am looking for. I head back to the table and say, "I think he believes it will give him courage." I reach for Tristan's hand then, and begin to work the ointment into his fingers. I smile at him as his usually blank face shifts into a look of relief. I know how much it matters to him that he is able to use his hands, especially since his weapon of choice is his bow.
"Tristan, you must listen to me alright?" I begin. He looks up at me and I shake my head a little when I see the amusement in his eyes. He reaches up with his good hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes as I begin my usual speech on how to take care of his hands. I know that he is not truly listening to me, but I give him my warnings anyway, trying to reach him. I doubt I'll ever stop trying to reach him. I have seen this happen before, to men and women alike. I've seen what happens when my instructions are not followed.
"Ah Kate, what would I do without you?" Tristan says as soon as I finish my speech, and I pause in my ministrations at his rather teasing tone. I make a face at him and mutter, "You'd probably be walking around in constant pain, that's what. You are so hard-headed." I finish with his hand and he stands, teasing me once again as he says, "I believe it is one of my more endearing qualities." I laugh a little and impulsively give him a little sideways hug, though I know it embarrasses him. He simply stands there and lets me hug him, looking slightly uncomfortable. He nods at me then in thanks and takes his leave, flexing his fingers as if testing them.
"Remember what I said!" I yell out the door after him, smiling to myself when he gives me a brief wave in response. I close the door, shaking my head and still puzzling over the enigma that is Tristan. Yawning widely once again, I head over to my bed and flop down on it, entirely ready to fall back asleep. I am just about to do that when there is another knock at my door. I groan and then call out, "Yes?"
"Kate, it is Vanora." I sit up in surprise and then hurry to answer the door. When Vanora comes here, it is usually because one or more of her children are sick. However, when I open the door, there is no look of distress on Vanora's face, nor is there a child at her side. She is alone, which is rare for her. She laughs at the dumbfounded expression on my face and says, "Yes, I found freedom today." I step aside to let her in, startled when she asks, "Did my eyes deceive me, or did I see Tristan walking away from here just now?"
"Why would Tristan come here?" I ask evasively, a tiny tone of defensiveness creeping into my words. Vanora holds up her hands in supplication and says, "Peace, Kate. I meant nothing by it. Come now, it is time you had a break." I give her a perplexed look and question, "Pardon me, but a break from what?" She makes a sweeping gesture, encompassing the entire room, and tells me, "A break from all this. It's time you had one. Come, we're going for a walk, and you're leaving everything behind. No healing today." Appalled at what she is saying, I move to protest, but she holds up her hand, apparently unwilling to hear it.
Before I can say a word, she seizes my arm and propels me towards the door, saying, "A break will not harm you Kate." I sputter for a moment before answering, "You are right, but it might harm others!" She gives a little snort and says, "You have held this village together for almost fifteen years, it will not fall apart in one day." She gives me another rather hard tug and I yelp a little, muttering sulkily, "That hurt." The grin she gives me is almost cheeky as she says, "You will get over it."
She insists on dragging me away from the fortress until I give up, following her without protest. She then releases her hold on me and instead hooks her arm with mine, giving me that cheeky grin of hers as she says, "You see? This isn't so terrible, is it?" I scowl at her and she laughs, saying that I am worse than her children when it comes to sulking. Unable to help myself, I stick my tongue out at her in response.
At first, we walk in silence. The only words that she speaks are to the people who try to approach me. She gives them a warning look as they approach me, and when they do not heed this warning, she chases them off with a few choice words. After awhile, it gets rather amusing, and in my head I begin to refer to her as my personal guard. After the fifth person tries to approach me, I start to laugh a little. The noise attracts her attention and she says, "Ah, it laughs. I was beginning to wonder."
"Oh hush. I am not that bad." I glance around, noticing that we're headed away from the village and ask, "Where are we going?" She winks at me and mysteriously replies, "You shall see." I make a noise of frustration but don't bother voicing another protest, having learned already that it will not matter. Part of me wonders if she has lost her mind. I eye her suspiciously, studying her movements carefully. Without looking at me, she suddenly announces, "I am not mad." I stop in my tracks and with incredulity in my tone demand, "How do you do that?"
It seems like an eternity before we reach Vanora's mystery destination. When I first lay eyes on the small clearing I find myself speechless. It is paradise. The trees shade it perfectly from the sun, though they let in just enough light to allow dozens upon dozens of flowers to grow. Running through the middle of this oasis is a small stream, just deep enough to reach my knees. Vanora laughs at the expression on my face and murmurs, "This is my escape, Kate. I wanted to share it with you."
"Why?" I ask, only half aware that I am even speaking. She smiles at me and says, "I have never known a truer friend than you. I have wanted to show you this sooner, yet certain things have gotten in the way. Like your work." She gives me a guileless smile when I shoot her a dirty look, though I find I cannot take offense to it in light of what she has just shown me. She walks on ahead and I burst out laughing when she suddenly leaps into the small stream, making a rather large splash as she does. I join her, though I enter the water a little more gingerly, gasping as the seemingly freezing water encompasses my feet.
"Look." She says pointing up. I look up and smile broadly when I see the sky suddenly fill with a large flock of birds, dotting the sky above us. I suddenly feel at peace, as if some of the worries just left my mind, taking flight with those birds up above. I stretch out my arms and close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I feel little spots of light on my face. For a moment, I am already free. I savor the moment, keeping each sensation locked into a little corner of my heart, never to be forgotten. I open my eyes and speak my earlier thought aloud, "This is paradise." I let out a little yelp when cold water is splashed onto me. I quickly retaliate; cupping my hands together and splashing water back at Vanora furiously. She lets out a squeal as the water splashes over her back, and I pause to laugh at her as she hops up and down, cursing at me.
This begins an all out war between the two of us, and before long we are both completely drenched from head to toe and breathless from laughter. An unspoken truce is struck as we both collapse onto the soft grass nearby, still helpless with giggles. After awhile, our laughter fades away and a silence creeps up on us. It is not uncomfortable or strained at all, and it is rather enjoyable. Back in the village, there is always noise, most of it unpleasant. Out here, there is nothing but the wind in the trees and the sound of the water rushing by. After several long moments, she turns her head to look at me, prompting me to do the same.
"My daughter hasn't stopped talking about your little adventure." She says, and I immediately know that she has found out the truth about my hand. I snort a little and say, "I'm sure she's revealed much to you." Vanora gives me a gentle smile and says, "She wants to be a healer now, when she grows up." I smile broadly at this, pleased that the girl has taken an interest. I had worried since she was born that she would not see anything for herself in the future except the traditional role of wife and mother. Vanora's tone becomes amused when she mentions, "Bors is beside himself. He tried to argue with her last night about it… he lost, of course." I burst out laughing at this, picturing Bors' bewildered expression as the little girl makes her case. He has given me the same expression on many occasions.
"I want to thank you," she continues, her tone now serious, "for letting her accompany you. I admit, I have little time for her… but knowing that you are looking out for her… it means much to me." I give her a gentle smile and say, "I enjoyed her company. She is a sweet child." I pause for a moment and then darkly continue, "I daresay she will be the closest thing to a daughter I will come to." Vanora makes a small 'tsk' noise and protests, "Kate, do not do this to yourself. You are still young and healthy… there is still time." I turn completely on my side to look at her full on and softly say, "Vanora, will you be honest with me?" She raises an eyebrow at me and scoffs, "I always am, Kate."
"Is… is there something undesirable about me?" I blurt out, my cheeks reddening immediately after I say it. She makes a face at me and vehemently says, "No Kate. There is nothing about you that is undesirable." I frown a little and then darkly murmur, "Then why…?" There is no need for me to finish my statement, as Vanora immediately responds, "I think it is because you are a new breed." I give her an incredulous look and she chuckles a bit, sitting up to put her feet back into the stream.
"You are different from every other woman and not necessarily in a bad way. You are the first woman that this village has seen become a healer, normally a man's job. It is impressive and, unfortunately, some men are thick-headed enough to think that they will be marrying a woman more accomplished than they. They think it will shame them, the dense fools." My heart sinks at this, and I begin to despair. Will I always be identified by my work, as if that is everything one needs to know about me? Will I always be alone? My eyes sting with tears, and I feel Vanora's hand land on my shoulder, trying to comfort me.
"But I believe you will find someone." She says softly, her voice warm, "Someone who admires your skills and who understands you; who knows you better than you know yourself." I give a half smile and say, "You sound as if you already know this paragon of manhood." She simply gives me a mysterious smile. I sit upright quickly, alerted by it, and suspiciously say, "Who are you thinking of Vanora?" She shrugs a little and then carefully watches my face as she answers, "I was thinking… maybe you will find your man among the knights?" I draw away from her and laugh, thinking she is jesting with me. When I see that she is actually serious, my laughter dies and in its place is genuine surprise.
"What are you thinking of?" I ask rhetorically, my eyes wide, "I could never be with one of them. They… they are brothers, not…." My protests die off weakly, and I find myself lying back down in defeat, already imagining it. I shake the thoughts from my head and strengthen my voice as I say, "No. It could never be. They want a pretty wife, someone who would be wholly devoted to them, and nothing else. They would want a veritable slave."
"You are so harsh Kate!" Vanora laughs, "I am no slave to Bors, and you know that." I secretly wonder at the truth of this, as I have seen her bend to his will time and time again. Wisely, however, I keep my opinion to myself. I shake my head and persist, "I am not what they want." She leans closer to me then and mysteriously says, "I doubt that, I truly do." My face heats up then and she chuckles, delighting in my flustered state.
Our conversation shifts to lighter subjects, but in my heart I continue to ponder over what Vanora has just said. Could it really be possible? Could I ever be wanted by one of the knights? The thought seems incredible to me, as if someone had told me that it was possible to reach out and touch the moon. . I see their faces now, and I feel my face heats up once again as I imagine being with them. After a long while, Vanora gives me a sideways look and slyly says, "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing!" I answer, my reply far too fast and far too defensive. Her expression turns smug and I somehow manage to resist pushing her head under the water.