Authors notes: - Thank you for all the reviews. I have just finished my last exam and I am now happily back online after my weeks self – imposed ban! Rejoice! Hope you enjoy!

OO

Lancelot stood in the centre of his small room clad only in his trousers and a black shirt clumsily attempting to secure the bandages on his sword wound tighter. Blood had soaked through the previous ones and instead of going to the doctor he had replaced them himself. His leg throbbed but he could walk on it and that was all that counted.

Darkness had heralded the arrival of a shadowed army. They moved no further than the tree lone and issued mournful cries obviously with the intent to scare the occupants of the fort. If Lancelot cared to listen to it and was prone to fancy thoughts he might refer to it as beautiful but he wasn't and to his non musical ears it sounded like strangled cats, more annoying than beautiful. Drums had started up soon after and succeeded in causing panic, the Romans adding to the tense atmosphere by screaming abuse at the terrified Britons who had attempted to leave. Lancelot himself had struck a Roman that had hit Vanora as she was attempting to gather her children. The Roman had returned the blow reopening Lancelot's chest wound. Fortunately or unfortunately they had been split up and Julio said if he lived he would be brought up on charges. Lancelot had scoffed in his face which probably wasn't a good idea. Arthur was going to kill him!

With a sigh he moved across to the bed where he had placed all his armour. He was going to battle in full heavy armour, a fierce Sarmatian knight. In slow, precise movements he slowly put his armour on. Securing buckles and tightening straps in a well versed pattern soothed his mind. Soon he would be in his element, the one that he thrived in and was any good at it.

A knock on the door announced the presence of Jols.

"They have us totally surrounded. There is no way to get anyone out; Julio has ordered civilians into the cellars. Hopefully they will have a chance to get out after the initial attack."

"Do you really think that they will be merciful Jols?" Lancelot questioned and the squire had no reply.

"Palatine is ready." Jols continued. "The Romans have gathered in the courtyard, Julio will not let any of the Britons fight."

"Good!" Lancelot exclaimed. "They will need to be the last line of defence."

Jols faced cracked in anguish. "This is suicide." He snapped angrily, furious at the fates for taking this path. Lancelot turned to face him with his usual calm arrogance expressed upon his face.

"You're implying that I am going to lose?"

"Lancelot!" Jols sighed tired of the knight's bravado.

"You are just one man Lancelot. A mortal man and you can be killed."

"I haven't found anyone who could do it yet."

"By the gods Lancelot…" Jols started but halted as soon as the knight grabbed his arm. The intensity of Lancelot's gaze held him transfixed.

"This is not suicide Jols. I have no choice. We either die in here like cowards with no control over our fates or we ride out to meet death and go down fighting. I was always going to die in battle. I only wish it was with my fellow knights and not the bloody Romans. I do not fear death. Death is freedom."

"We should wait. Arthur will be returning soon." The squire almost pleaded.

"You are no fool. Arthur will not return for days and the woads will not wait. They anticipated this. Hopefully Arthur will arrive to save Vanora and everyone else."

Straightening himself Lancelot winced and he felt warm blood begin to run down his skin. Jols noticed but decided to keep quiet. There was nothing he could do anyway.

"Well let's go Jols an army waits for no man."

They strode from the room towards the courtyard. As the knight stepped outside he noticed that it was strangely quiet. The snow was laying creating drifts against the buildings, the flakes floating lazily through the air. By the gate stood the pathetically pitiful detachment of Roman soldiers, he could almost laugh. They had even pressed the wounded into service. Plautius and Julio were the only two going to be on horseback. Plautius was mounted already but Julio was no where to be seen.

Palatine was prancing on the spot snorting excitedly and chomping on the bit. Billows of warm breath rose with every snort. As he approached the almost white stallion he could feel many eyes upon him. A few of the older occupants of the fort were gathered; many had tears in their eyes, as they knew their fates. He sighted Vanora who came to his side. She handed him a small wooden charm.

"For luck and protection. I don't want to have to deal with Bors in a mood." She smiled softly. Lancelot pocketed the charm. In return he handed her a dagger.

"I have many weapons one less is of little consequence." He replied as she shook her head in denial and tried to hand it back to him.

"The first chance you get run. Jols you go with her."

"No!" Jols said shocked. "I will go with you."

"As you said its death. Go with Vanora. If anything happens to them I will have your head as Bors will have mine. Do not think that death will stop me. I have a reputation for being stubborn."

"Thank you." Vanora said and she secured the knife in the tie of her skirt.

"There is always a chance that they will not kill you all. Don't fight, follow Arthur's trail to the nearest fort. Tell them what happened here. You should be safe."

Lancelot handled his helmet to Jols as he mounted not as graceful as usual due to both the weight of the armour and his injuries. He stifled a cry by biting his lip. Jols handed him his helmet and Lancelot secured it in place. Gathering the reins he nudged Palatine forward before turning him in a circle. The pair looked impressive clad in their battle armour.

"Good luck." Jols whispered knowing that Lancelot believed a man to make his own luck.

"I want some warm cider ready when I get back." Lancelot joked with a big smile before trotting Palatine over to take his place next to Plautius. Julio glared at him as the Roman was assisted into the saddle, the knight just smiled.

"Let's go." Jols said pulling Vanora away uttering a prayer.

O

The gates of the fort groaned open slowly revealing the place of battle. The burning crosses cast an eerie glow with the smoke distorting the shadowed figures making them appear more a mirage than fact. As soon as the gates opened the haunting cries and drums halted. The silence was worse increasing the tension until Lancelot's body tingled in anticipation. Lancelot viewed the opening of the doors as if the gates of Arthur's hell had opened themselves. He felt fear, it was only slight but it was there. He knew the likely outcome was his death and he had not yet evolved into an emotional monster that it didn't scare him slightly.

He often had dreams of his death, a glorious passing protecting his homeland or even a battle where he died in an attempt to save a fellow knight. He did not want to die alone among people that hated him in a slaughter that could hardly be called a battle. He didn't want his body to rot, another Sarmatian corpse to add to the many that had fallen before. Another statistic with no one to mourn.

"Try at least to look vaguely confident." Plautius spoke interrupting his morbid thoughts. Lancelot snorted.

"That's the first time anyone has ever said that to me."

"Glad I can be the first."

"I'm happy for you. Although tell anyone about it and I will kill you." The knight spoke seriously.

"Noted." Plautius said with a twinkle in his eye. "Although I too am hard pressed to find anything to be confident about."

"Good for a moment I thought you had gone mad. For crying out loud one of the men is missing an arm, his sword arm! I swear the one on the end probably still thinks he can fly!"

"Maybe we can cause them to fall over laughing." The Roman suggested.

"Woads don't have a sense of humour." Lancelot growled. With a clank the gates signalled that they had opened fully.

"Well woads won't kill themselves." The knight stated and he drew his heavy sword resting it for the moment across his lap, the movement causing him immense pain. Julio moved his horse forward and then turned it back to face the soldiers.

"We are Roman soldiers. We are the greatest soldiers ever known and we will TRIUMPH! If today we are called to give our lives to propel the empire forward to greater glory do so with pride and your head held high. For the empire will continue to flourish and your sacrifice will not be in vain or forgotten. LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR! LONG LIVE ROME!" Julio cried.

The soldiers echoed his final words while Lancelot rolled his eyes.

Slowly the small group of soldiers moved forward. Lancelot quickly glanced backwards flashing a cocky grin at Jols who saluted him back just before the squire disappeared with Vanora. As soon as he turned back and passed under the gate arch his grin faded and he shivered. As the last soldier passed the gate it shut with an air of finality. Lancelot secured his reins in his left hand and gripped his sword hard with his right. The pitiful company of soldiers formed ranks and waited for the enemy to make its move.

OO