Disclaimer; See part one
Notes: I don't know if anyone will have noticed, but the first few chapters have been slightly altered. My beta just pointed out to me that I've been spelling one of the character's names wrong. So I fixed it, took out all of my ramblings as well in the process. So thanks to my beta! To continue, I do want to mention that the rating of this might go up soon, because of the next chapter or two (you'll see what I mean later). So enjoy chapter 5!
Duty
I have never felt this way before. I have never felt like I am trying to crawl out of my own skin with anticipation and restlessness. I have never been this fidgety and nervous before. I count the hours until our freedom with a delicious sense of satisfaction, even as I worry over what will become of us all. It is bittersweet, this state I am in. Half of me wishes the gods would spare me this torture and speed up time altogether, to give me what I crave so desperately. The other half wants to dig my heels into the ground and stop time altogether. I abhor the idea of having my knights taken from me. This part of me does not want anything to change, no matter how much I detest the situation. My soul has been entered into a queer kind of tug-of-war between these two feelings, and I feel even more trapped than I had to begin with. The naïve part of me imagines that when the hour of freedom is upon me, my destiny will be revealed like magic. I cling to this hope even as I doubt its credibility.
Gawain, it seems, has entered his own personal battle. He visits me more often than ever, seeking solace. He never speaks his fears aloud to me, but I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is confused and perhaps even a little frightened about the future. His memories of Sarmatia are as mine, faded and idealized. I believe that he too fears that he will find it much changed, and no longer to his liking. In many ways, when I speak my fears to him, they mirror his almost exactly. I enjoy his company so much that any thought of no longer having it brings tears to my eyes.
Lancelot too is affected by the promise of freedom. In an attempt to speed events along, he throws himself into his ale. Two days after my little excursion with Vanora, he showed up at my quarters, completely out of his mind from the drink. Blood trickled from a wound on his forehead, and he practically collapsed onto me when I opened the door to him. I patched him up, employing the services of Jols, who had been the one to bring him to me, to take him back to his own quarters. As he was lead away, I gave a long suffering sigh in response to the phrase he drunkenly shouted back at me over his shoulder, a phrase I hear far too often. He said to me, "What would I do without you, Kate?" Even now, just as I think the phrase, I shudder. When the words are spoken to me, I feel as if I am some sort of mother to them, a position I would prefer not to be likened to.
The others have reacted in many other ways. Tristan remains the same, as mysterious as ever. He seems so sure of his place in the world, though he never reveals it to any one else. Bors agonizes over a decision that will affect the lives of not only him and Vanora, but their children as well. Should he stay and marry his long-time lover, or will he go off to find fortune somewhere else? Galahad is eager to leave and return to Sarmatia, but I do not think it is completely out of loyalty to our homeland. I believe he wishes to escape the tyranny of Rome, even for a little while. He has little patience for their pomp and circumstance, their meaningless ceremony and their endless stipulations. I cannot blame him for his position.
Arthur, in direct opposition to Galahad, is eager to return to Rome. There is order there, he claims, and reason. I doubt his words, but I say nothing to him directly. I do not want to shatter illusions. I want to believe in Arthur's vision of Rome, yet I find that after fifteen years of enslavement to their ever-changing will dampens my sincerity in this regard. He speaks of a man named Pelagius, who taught him everything he knows about equality and justice. He seems eager to rejoin this man. Another mystery is Dagonet. He never speaks of home, as he rarely speaks at all. It seems that he is content to live in this moment and not look to the uncertain future. He is unconcerned, and I envy this about him. Bors speaks of keeping Dagonet with him to work for him once he becomes a leader, but it is always said in jest. I worry for Dagonet, for if I do not, who will?
Now, I have the addition of a last minute mission to worry about. I watch as they mount their horses, each of them eager to get their mission over and done with. It is only a minor mission, according to Arthur, but I have heard those words before and was forced to patch up what was left of them once they returned to the fortress. Today, on their very last day of service, they are to escort a Bishop Germanus to the safety of the Hadrian's Wall. A rumor of Rome's withdrawal from Briton has made the natives of the land, the Woads, reckless with their attacks. They no longer fear the wrath of Rome.
I peer up at Lancelot as he mounts his horse, shading my eyes from the sun. He smiles at me, reaching down to touch my chin gently as he says, "Do not fear, Kate. We shall all return. And when we do, we expect to celebrate our freedom." I sigh a little and reach up to hand him a little bundle, saying, "At least take this with you, just in case." He nods at me, taking the herbs. He gives me a half grin and nods at me in farewell. My heart practically leaps into my throat as he spurs his horse into a fast gallop, speeding away from me before I can protest. The others follow suit, most looking back to wave at me. Gawain is the last to leave, and his eyes linger on the fortress longer than the others.
Vanora appears at my elbow just as Gawain disappears over the hills in the distance. Her voice is heavy with sadness as she says, "I cannot believe that today is the last day…." She lets her sentence hang, not that she needs to finish it. I look at her briefly and say, "Nor can I. It seems like a dream. I can only hope the gods are watching out for them today." She nods and for a moment I imagine I see tears in her eyes. But when she turns her head, there is nothing there but that sadness. I impulsively give her a sideways hug and say, "You have been a true friend Vanora." She shudders a bit as I say it and quietly asks, "So you are leaving then?" I sigh, pulling away, and murmur in response, "I still do not know. I have so many questions I have yet to answer."
"I know that you will make the right choice, whatever it may be." She replies. She leaves then to return to her children, and I watch her leave. I can sense her depression even now as she walks away, and I know she is afraid of what will happen to her and the children if Bors decides to leave them. My heart goes out to her, and I can only hope that Bors will take care of his responsibilities. I lift my bag up off of the dusty ground and hoist it up onto my shoulder. I had promised to visit a family to treat their son's cough some time ago, and now is the last time I will get a chance. The thought brings a trill of both excitement and terror to my heart, which I quickly attempt to squelch.
I brush the hair from my eyes and begin to head in the direction of the family's home. There is a bounce to my step that I just can't stop, and I find myself grinning at people I pass like a fiend. I must look quite silly, but I can't help it. For now, my excitement has won over my body. The air around me practically vibrates with my intense feelings. I am invited into the home by a woman with a frazzled, fretful expression on her face. I find her son lying in bed, blankets piled high around him. He seems exasperated to be there, and he looks at me with pleading eyes. I smile at him and say, "How do you feel?" He shrugs and rather sullenly says, "I want to play outside, but mama won't let me." I chuckle a bit at this and begin to examine him, humming happily to myself as I do. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the mother and father of the boy exchange glances with one another, and so I stop with a little clearing of my throat.
There is nothing terribly wrong with the boy and so I am able to leave sooner than I had anticipated. They all look rather puzzled when I whistle happily to myself as I take my leave, giving them a nod as I do. Arthur had assured me that they would return that very same day, and with all of our discharge papers in hand. I had given him a confused look at this and he told me that the papers were the reason the Bishop came here, and that was why most of the men were pleased to go on this last mission of theirs. I had laughed a little, but now that I think about it, I feel the same way they do about it all. I feel as if I am already done and finished with the whole thing. This is simply a formality now.
If I were not so frightened about the consequences, I would pack my things and leave without my papers.
Just then, my thoughts are broken into as I am accosted by another woman who begs me to see to her daughter, who also suffers from a cough. I fleetingly wonder if the boy gave it to her, but quickly decide that it doesn't really matter. It takes much longer to deal with these people, as when I try to tell them that she will be fine and that the cough will quickly subside, they are not satisfied with my findings and pretty much order me to look her over again. With a little mental shrug, I do as they tell me and come to the same conclusion. I give them a little bundle of tea for them to give to her and then take my leave, not liking the way they treat me. They do not say goodbye, nor do I.
I head back to my room to wait for the knights to return. As I wait, I begin to gather my things in preparation to pack. I do not have much to bring with me, and I am not sure when I will be leaving, but I feel like doing it all the same. It gives me something to do other than worry and let myself go mad over the anticipation. I eat a bit of leftover bread that was left on my table as I work, though I am not sure how old it is. My thoughts are constantly on the upcoming events. I do not know what the Romans will want us to do at this point, though I am sure they will have some ceremony or some such thing for us to deal with. I briefly wonder what this Bishop will be like, if he will be kind to me or dismissive, as so many who meet me are.
It seems as if I have only just started to pack when I hear the sound of the Roman guards shouting that there are riders approaching the gates. I look outside and it is actually much later than I thought; the sky is slightly darker. I let out an excited, girlish squeal and rush to the door, throwing it open and running down towards the gates. I have to lift the hem of my dress up slightly to keep from tripping, showing an unseemly amount of leg to a few men that pass me. I feel my face heat up, but find myself brushing it off rather fast as I reach my usual waiting place.
I bounce on the heels of my feet as I wait impatiently for the knights to reappear. It seems to take them much longer than usual, and it is not just my perception that makes me think this. Even the guards seem rather impatient at the slowness of their arrival, though they are privy to the reason; while I am not. After a few painfully long minutes, I can faintly make out the sounds of approaching horses, the shouts of men mingling amongst them freely. One of the guards looks back to me with a smile and shouts, "Fear not Kate, they are all well." I relax completely, waving back at him in thanks for the news. I will longer need to shoulder this burden of being left behind on these missions; this is the last time I will be forced into this situation.
Finally, the gates open once more. I am only mildly surprised to see the Roman soldiers enter first, their armor glinting like jewels in the sunlight. I am also unsurprised to see the splatters of blood that decorates their fronts like spilled paint on a wall. They barely glance at me as they pass on their magnificent horses, but I am not surprised, nor do I take offence to it. I'm sure that there were more of them not so long ago, and their minds are probably still on their fallen comrades. Moments later, the knights come into the gates once again. Each of their faces shines as if lit by beacons, and I know they are relishing in their victory.
They leap off of their horses one by one as they enter; slapping each other on the back in what I assume is congratulations or something along those lines. Gawain is the first to envelop me in his arms, squeezing me so tight that I am forced to gasp out his name. He loosens the hold with a murmured apology and then continues, "Kate… Kate we're free!" I laugh a little at the awe and wonder in his tone, and for a moment we both suspend our fears. He pulls back a little, though he doesn't release me entirely. His eyes lock with mine for a moment, and I feel as if my heart wishes to leap straight from my chest. For a moment, a strange feeling creeps over me and I become frightened by it. I clear my throat nervously, looking away from him as I do; effectively breaking whatever spell had been cast upon us. The awkward moment does not pass straight away and I find myself stammering, "Y-you are well, G-Gawain?"
"Yes, he is well!" Bors replies on Gawain's behalf, and I look up in time to see Gawain jerk forward as Bors claps him on the back with a hearty chuckle. He does not seem to feel the tension between Gawain and I as he crows, "He is well enough to be thinking about home and all the women he wishes to bed there." Gawain gives him a black look, but Bors is oblivious to it, saying, "Have you not heard of Gawain's beautiful Sarmatian woman? The one he wishes to wed once he is home?" I force a laugh and say, "She must be a patient woman, to have waited so long." I glance at Gawain and am alarmed to see how pale he has suddenly become. I am about to enquire after his health when he suddenly seems to pull away, both physically and emotionally. I can only stare after him, puzzled to no end at his behavior.
Bors moves off as well before I can question him, and I simply shrug it off for the time being. Just as I am about to look around for Lancelot, I feel a hand on my shoulder. As I turn, Lancelot pulls his face into a comical pout, whining, "Do you not have a greeting for me as well, Kate?" I laugh brightly, hugging him tight. He wraps his arms around me as well, and he brings his mouth to my ear to ask, "What has Gawain done to you now? You looked unhappy for a moment there." I flush a bit and reply, "He has done nothing, Lancelot. I think it is just last minute fears, or something of that sort. Pay it no mind." I silently beg him to obey me and he does, releasing me with a bright smile.
Just then, the arrival of a rather beat up carriage makes us both pause. I tilt my head slightly as I watch it make its way into the safety of the fortress. I shade my eyes from the sun and as I do, I just barely make out the man inside. He looks every inch the distinguished man, though he is clad in the uniform of an officer. I know he must be more than that, especially as he looks at me. It is both imperious and disgusted at the same time. He knows he must be here, yet it brings him no pleasure. I glance up at Lancelot and quietly ask, "Is that Bishop Germanus?" Lancelot nods and says, "Yes. He is the one with our discharge papers." I glance back at the carriage, which has now come to a stop in the courtyard. Jols rushes to the carriage at Arthur's prompting, opening the door for the Bishop.
The man appears pompous from where I stand, and I find myself disliking him already. I can tell that Lancelot shares his view, as his face tightens slightly at the sight of him. I overhear the faint strains of their conversation as Arthur and the Bishop exchange a few words. I overhear that we are expected to convene later to discuss business, and my heart leaps at the words, knowing exactly what he speaks of. Lancelot takes his leave then, and I watch as he walks away. I want to follow him, but I know that now is not the time to be pestering him.
After the comings and goings of the earlier day, it alarms me how fast time seems to fly by. Night comes upon us swiftly, and I soon find myself joining the others at the round table. My heart is dampened, as always, when I see how many empty places there are at the table now. Where there was once a hundred knights, there is now only seven and one healer girl. It almost seems unfair that I have been allowed to live and they have not. I shake away those thoughts as quickly as I can, not wanting to think such thoughts on a night like this. I smile at the others as they glance around the table, and I imagine they must be thinking the same thoughts as I had been.
We stand behind our seats patiently, waiting for Arthur to arrive. When he does, I am impressed at the sight of him as I usually am when he is dressed in his Roman attire. He exudes a certain confidence and pride in wearing this gear, and the uniform was made just for him. I have never seen any other Roman wear that uniform as Arthur does. He nods at us all and we all nod back reverently, all except for Lancelot, who bows almost mockingly with a smirk on his face. I allow myself a little smile as he teases, "Hail Arthur!" All teasing is quickly set aside as Arthur takes his goblet of wine that had been placed in front of him earlier and lifts it in a toast. We all follow suit, solemnity further seizing the room as he says, "Let us raise our wine to all those whom we have loved and lost during this most turbulent of trials. Their sacrifice shall not be in vain, nor shall it be forgotten."
We each pour a small amount of wine onto the floor before taking a sip ourselves, all in memory of the fallen knights. I glance around at the others, and I am not surprised in the least to see sadness in their eyes. What does surprise me, however, is the glistening of tears in the eyes of Bors. We all politely pretend not to notice, though I am sure most of us are fully aware of it. Finally, the black mood is broken as Bors overcomes his tears and shouts, "To freedom!" This immediately brings smiles back to everyone's faces, and we all readily drink to that.
Just as we all break into easy chatter of home, the heavy wooden doors are swung open to reveal a thin little man. He reminds me of a weasel as he stands there, his chest puffed out in false importance as he begins to announce his master, arrogantly saying, "His Eminence…." He opens his eyes then and for the first time, he sees the round table in front of him. I cannot hide my amusement as an expression that could only be described as horror crosses his features. He continues with his announcement, only his voice is now weak and rather shaky as he says, "Bishop Gnaeus Germanus." The Bishop enters the room then, flanked by two Roman officers. He pauses at the sight of the table, though he reacts to it far more gracefully than the weasel man. It is when his eyes land on me that he looses this composure, sniffing, "Excuse me madam, but this is no place for a serving girl. You may leave now."
"She is no serving girl." Lancelot practically hisses before I can respond, "She is one of us." The other knights nod almost in unison, and I am rather touched by their display of loyalty towards me. The Bishop casts an uncertain gaze towards Arthur, who simply looks back at him levelly, making it clear that he is behind his knights on this issue. The weasel man looks in danger of fainting as the events unfold before him and I wait to see what the Bishop will do next. I do not bother speaking or making any other movement to plead my own case, not seeing the point. The Bishop sends me a rather vicious glare and moves to sit down at Arthur's prompting.
"I was expecting more of you." The Bishop says, rather unkindly, and a few of the knights bristle at his tone, most notably Galahad. I note that his hand creeps towards the hilt of his sword, his back straight and his entire body tense as he looks at the Bishop. I only half listen as Arthur explains the situation to the Bishop, and they fall into a meaningless exchange of pleasantries. The Bishop is obviously trying to cover up for his earlier blunder, and begins to ply Arthur and the others with compliments. I begin to wonder why the Bishop won't simply give us our papers and leave. More wine is served, and the Bishop lifts his glass to the rest of us, saying, "To your last days of service to the empire."
Something about what he says alerts me, and it only occurs to me what it is when I overhear Bors whispering to Lancelot, "Shouldn't that be day?" Suspicion immediately rises up amongst us, and Galahad begins to practically quiver in his seat, just looking for an excuse to erupt. The Bishop seems to note his blunder, and quickly says, "This wine is from His Holiness' own vineyard; he inquires after you all and sends his best wishes." I speak up for the first time, quietly asking, "What exactly does he inquire after?" The Bishop looks at me briefly as he answers, "He is naturally curious about the state of your souls. He wonders if you have converted to the word of our savior, or if you continue to cling to… other religions?"
There is silence for a moment before Arthur interjects, "My men retain the religions of their forefathers. I do not question them." I lose interest once again as they begin to discuss their own religion. I have never had much interest for Christianity, though I do not mind it. I remember seeing a statue of the Virgin once. I knew immediately that the religion must have been founded by males, as the goddess was very pretty. I fleetingly wonder how they worship her as I swirl what is left of my wine around in my glass. After a moment, I catch the eye of Gawain and make a face at him. He masks his chuckle with a delicate cough, though his eyes practically dance with merriment.
My attention is seized once more when one of the guards standing behind Germanus steps forward, a large wooden box in hand. The Bishop takes it from him and sets it down on the table to face us. We all nearly leap out of our seats when the scrolls are revealed. Germanus ignores our reactions and says, "Unfortunately, it has been decided that Rome has no place in this barbarian land. The Holy Father and Rome have decided that to continue to attempt to gain control of Briton would be… preposterous." He waves a hand and offhandedly and says, "I suppose the Saxons will claim it." I stare at the Bishop, stunned by this revelation. The deaths of the knights who once sat at this table seem evermore wasteful now.
"The Saxons?" Gawain questions incredulously, his eyebrows raised. We all know full well that the Saxons claim what they kill, and they kill everything in their path. I feel sympathy for the Woads, knowing full well that they will not receive their land back just yet. Germanus seems oblivious to the mood in the room as he announces, "In any case, these are your discharge papers." All of us get up from our seats, fully prepared to seize the papers whether he wants us to or not, but we are all halted when he continues, "However, I would like to speak with your commander first." When we are all silent, he continues, "Alone."
"We have no secrets." Arthur says, but I know it is a lost cause immediately from the hard look on the Bishop's face. Lancelot is the first to break the tension, saying, "Come. We will leave Roman business to Romans." With that, we all leave the room, Tristan pausing only to take his glass with him, pouring what's left of the wine onto the floor before pocketing it. As we enter the hallway, mumbling our greetings to Jols as we pass him, I sullenly mutter, "Pompous windbag." The others laugh a little at my insult, Galahad taking the opportunity to add, "Why won't he just give us our papers?"
"Ceremony." Gawain says cryptically and Galahad snarls something under his breath, his hand traveling back towards his sword as he does. As we exit the hallway and step into the cool night air, Lancelot suddenly turns towards me and announces, "You will join us for a celebration in honour of our freedom." I pause at this, my eyes widening slightly as I say, "What, now?" He chuckles and says, "Yes now. Come on Kate, you never come with us." I sputter a protest but soon find myself being lifted into the air by Dagonet of all people.
"Dagonet!" I shriek, "You traitorous dog!" The others find it immensely funny as I am carried to their infamous courtyard howling in protest, beating my hands against Dagonet's rather large back. We pass Vanora and I snarl at her, "Don't say a word." She nods, instead laughing heartily at my predicament. I am set down at a table eventually, and Dagonet gives me an apologetic smile as he backs away from me. I find that I can only remain angry with him for a few moments before I begrudgingly smile back at him. I tense up almost completely as I realize I am being looked at by several of the Roman guards who are already partially drunk. Luckily for me, Dagonet decides to stay close and sends them a look that plainly tells them that I am off limits. I try to make myself as small as possible so as not to be noticed as I watch the knights get bombarded by women. I try to keep the scowl from my face as I watch not one, but two women drape themselves on Lancelot, cooing at him in a way that I assume is supposed to be enticing.
"Later." I hear him say, his voice loaded with promise as he extracts himself from their embrace. They pout after him as he heads towards a group of men, rubbing his hands together. I watch as they begin to gamble and wait for a fight to break out. A little time passes and I soon find myself getting over my initial fear. Vanora comes by often to chat with me when she can, and she offers me a mug of ale each time she does come. It's not as bad as I thought and soon I find myself talking with the soldiers about whatever springs to mind. It is while I am doing this that Gawain and Galahad tip over a table together and start throwing knives at it for fun, trying to see which of them has the better aim. I find it quite funny that Gawain still has more skill than Galahad even with a woman hanging off of one arm and about four mugs of ale in his belly. All of us jump when another blade appears from nowhere, landing right in the middle of one that Galahad had just thrown.
"Tristan, how do you do that?" Gawain asks his voice light with awe. I laugh louder than necessary when Tristan replies, "I aim for the middle." Gawain twists round in his seat and looks at me carefully. I give him a cheeky grin in return, bursting into laughter once again when he deadpans, "No more ale for Kate." He smiles at my reaction, though his attention is quickly diverted by the girl on his arm, who glowers at me when he is not paying attention as if I were out to steal him from her. I simply stare back at her, disliking her yet not caring enough to take action. I am startled out of my stupor as a commotion suddenly arises at Lancelot's table.
I am not concerned as I see Lancelot draw his twin swords, holding them at the throats of two Romans, a very dangerous look on his face. He could take their heads clean off with one flick of his wrist, and I am not the only one who knows this. He says something to them, his smile becoming icy as he says it. I glance over to Galahad, noticing that he has targeted another Roman who has prepared to save his comrades. The man backs off at the sight of Galahad, who needs very little provocation at this moment in time. Dagonet, who had disappeared some time ago, suddenly reappears, walking past the Roman in Galahad's sights. We all laugh as he simply lifts a massive fist and brings it down on the Roman's head, effectively bringing him off of his feet. The tension is dismantled by the act and Lancelot withdraws his swords, leaving his would-be victims to save their unconscious friend.
I look at Dagonet closely, noting the troubled look on his face as he stops to talk to Lancelot. The quiet man stands near Lancelot, nodding when he says something to him. Dagonet's distinctive voice seems to float over all the rest as he says, "Arthur comes." This announcement carries with it no pleasure, and we all know that something bad is about to occur. We stand, eyeing Arthur warily as he approaches us. We convene in the middle of the yard and I notice how everyone else seems to fall silent, as if trying to overhear the conversation. Arthur's face is heavy with regret as he looks at each one of us in turn before he says, "We leave at first light."
The announcement brings confusion in the others at first, but I am immediately alarmed by what he has said. I find myself reaching for the nearest person, Gawain, clutching onto his arm as if to keep him with me. Arthur speaks again, and when he does all confusion is swept away by disbelief and rage.
"There is one final mission Rome requires of us," he continues, "and it will take us far from the wall. There is a Roman family in need of rescue." I sag against Gawain, devastated by what Arthur has said. Gawain supports me easily, though it appears that he is not aware of it. He gapes at Arthur, horror now entering his gaze. Bors is the first to react to the news, smashing his mug against a nearby wall as he snarls, "Roman bastards!" My eyes return to Arthur, and I note the flinch he gives at Bors' reaction.
"Bors is right!" Galahad says, his voice fierce, "We are free men now. I say we are done with our duty here… if it ever was a duty. It is done!" I am startled as Tristan speaks, his voice seemingly unnaturally calm as he says, "We are all going to die someday. If it is the thought of death at the hands of Saxons that frightens you then, stay where you are." Galahad turns on him then, hissing, "You may be eager to give your life, but I am not. Some of us have something worth living for." Gawain moves to his friend, placing a hand on his arm to calm him, though he still seems prepared to lunge at any moment.
Everyone's attention is brought to Dagonet, who suddenly moves forward toward Arthur. I do not blame Arthur as he looks up at the big man with a degree of nervousness. We all watch as he leans closer to Arthur and asks, "The Romans have broken their word. Do we have the word of Arthur?" The honesty is plain on Arthur's face as he replies, "Yes. You have my word." Dagonet appears satisfied by his response, and says, "Then that is enough for me. I will prepare." He turns then and leaves without another word. Tristan steps forward and nods at Arthur as well, his face as unreadable as ever. Everything suddenly seems to be spinning out of control, and I cannot help saying, "This is sheer madness."
No longer having Tristan to take his anger out on, Galahad turns on me in an instant. I stare at him impassively as he snarls at me, "What does it matter to you?! You know nothing of battle; you are assured safety here, no matter what you do! You have no right to protest! You do not understand what it is like for us!" Everything seems to freeze around us in this one moment, and I find myself speechless for quite some time in the face of the despair his words bring. It was almost as if it were no longer Galahad speaking, but some demon inside of him.
"No," I say in a deadly calm voice, "you're right. I do not know what it is like for you. But I do know what it is like here. I know what it is like to wait at those gates and watch your brothers leave and wonder who it is that will not return. I know what it is like to receive the remains of men at my door in the middle of the night. I know what it's like to have an entire village expect you to magically fix the wounded and dying, and I know what it's like to let them down. I know what it's like to be covered in blood; I know what it's like to hold a dying child to your chest and wonder why you are here, why you are being tortured this way and why you are unable to die yourself. I know what it's like to be helpless and wish to any god that you could fight and die on the field of battle and know that you actually lived for something, that your life had some sort of meaning to it. No. I don't know what it's like for you. But you don't know what it's like for me."
With that, I turn on my heel and stride out of the courtyard without another word. My heart hammers in my chest, but I do not linger on this for long. As soon as I am out of view, I begin to run, unable to stand the pain any longer. I had always seen Galahad as a brother, a true friend who would never hurt me. Deep down, I know that he did not truly mean what he said, yet the petty side of me still resents him terribly. I fly towards my room, and slam the door behind me when I make it, finally letting myself give into tears in the solitude. With my back pressed against the door, I let myself slide down until I hit the floor, curling up into myself as I do. I bring my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs as I sob.
Things have never been worse.
[Next chapter]
As the knights leave on their final mission, Germanus reveals his true colours to Kate.