Authors notes: Thank you to all my lovely reviewers!
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For what seemed like an eternity no one moved. Palatine shifted nervously picking up the tension, the young stallion was still only a novice and Lancelot wished that Scimitar was fit and healthy.
"Look!" Plautius said rather unnecessarily as a group of warriors detached themselves from the main army and stepped closer to them.
"What do you suppose they want?" Julio asked.
"Probably checking their eyes and wondering where the rest of the army is." Plautius replied.
"Doubtful." Lancelot commented. "They planned this. It's a challenge, commander to commander."
Julio's face whitened. "I don't think so."
"It's a matter of honour. You don't do it and they will show us no mercy."
"What kind of mercy can we expect off savages?" Julio spat.
"You have no idea." Lancelot replied.
"If you are so concerned feel free to die first."
"Fine beats having to watch our pathetic slaughter." Lancelot nudged Palatine forward and the horse responded eagerly.
Trotting was the most uncomfortable movement ever Lancelot decided as each bounce of the gait sent pain travelling through his body. As he approached he saw that the army were painted black and were wearing masks. Woads are getting stranger everyday!
Half way to them Lancelot drew Palatine to a halt. The stallion reared up striking out his front hooves endearing him to Lancelot. Once of the ground Palatine stood still only twitching his muscles in anticipation. One of the woads moved forward presumably the leader for his mask was more elaborate. Maybe they were druids he thought. Ah well he was going to die who cared who killed him. The man saluted him with a sword and Lancelot returned the gesture. He then returned to his army. Lancelot frowned in confusion and then shrugged. He turned Palatine and rejoined the Romans.
"Why didn't you say that was all he wanted?" Julio spat angrily embarrassed at his actions and the fact that he had been upstaged.
"Because normally he would have challenged me to a duel."
"Then why didn't he?"
"I don't know why don't you ask him?" Lancelot sneered at his wits end. Before Julio could blurt out another insult the woads screamed and charged. Lancelot turned Palatine sharply and raised his sword. The Roman infantry looked panicked and for a second Lancelot thought they would run.
"Stand firm. You hold together you have a chance. You run and you die." He commanded. Their faces became stern and they formed stronger lines, raised their shields and weapons. It took only a few seconds for the first lines to hit.
O
Tristan dismounted his mare about two miles from the woad encampment, and ushered her off. She would return when needed. Disappearing into the trees Tristan crept towards the camp. He easily bypassed the two sentries who were staring in another direction. The camp was a simple one, thatched huts and a few animal pens. With a quick glance he could tell that most of the population were within the camp and with a practised eye he noted an immediate problem. Around the outskirts a number of protection charms had been erected. They were spooked by something and Tristan didn't believe in coincidences.
Continuing on his quest he studied the horses for any signs of Roman animals, there were none. There were no indications of any occupants not of woad origin. Whatever had happened to the Roman cavalry these people had nothing to do with it.
Slipping back into the shadows Tristan was about to leave when he heard a cry. Quickly retracing his steps he saw a sentry run into camp. The man ran up to the largest and therefore the leader's hut frantically beckoning back the way he had come.
Tristan hurried in the direction that the scout had charged from. He half expected to see a massive army. There was nothing until he checked the sky. Smoke! Darkness was just setting and the sky was cloudy with snow laden clouds but smoke was easy to recognise to the well trained eye. His mind sprang into action in an attempt to work out what could possibly be burning and he came to a horrible conclusion. It was in the direction of the wall. Apart from the forts there was no woad encampment for miles.
It was a painful realisation when it hit him. All this had been an elaborate plan to remove the main force from Baden Hill and leave it vulnerable to attack. Arthur was going to be beside himself. Lancelot! He suddenly thought. Arthur was not going to be at all happy and Tristan hated to be the bearer of news that would devastate the man. Swiftly he retraced his steps and as soon as he felt he had allowed a sufficient distance from the sentries he whistled for his horse. She returned promptly and he quickly mounted. With a stroke of her withers he leant forward whispering in her elegantly pointed ear.
"You will have to run fast my friend." The loyal mare took off moving at a flat out gallop. Only a mare as well trained as Skye was could move at such a speed through the trees. Still it would take him the best part of the night to rejoin Arthur and by then he knew that it would not be quick enough.
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Palatine squealed as a woad hacked at the stallions legs. Lancelot saw the blow coming and he yanked hard on the reins trying to stop the animal's forward momentum but it was too late and the horse crashed to its knees. Luckily for Lancelot he fell forward with the horse managing to avoid having his head removed from his shoulders by an opportunistic woad. Palatine attempted to regain his feet but the blow had severely lamed the horse and it was unable to support itself. The stallion floundered and rolled to the side. Unlike a few days prior Lancelot was able to scramble off easily but had to immediately drop and roll himself swinging out one of his blades as he did so slashing the heels of a woad. The man fell screaming but Lancelot was already back on his feet twirling the two blades in his hands while performing a deadly ballet of turns and dodges. He had dropped his large heavy sword as Palatine had been brought down and now resorted to his more familiar and lighter twin blades.
Quickly in a seconds breathing space he glanced around and he could see no one. Either he had been driven away from the Romans or the formation had broken and now the soldiers were engaged in a variety of individual confrontations no doubt being slaughtered. Then dimly over the heated cries of the battle he could hear Julio bellowing orders. Maybe all was not lost yet. A slash across his upper arm refocused his attention and he thrust out his weapons to the side feeling them sink into an unguarded torso. Pulling them out he side stepped to avoid a lunge from the other direction before whirling around in a circle and driving his swords home.
The woads kept coming like a swarm and as soon as he managed to kill one two took their place. A jarring blow to his right hand sent his sword spinning to the ground where it was trodden on by a large number of booted feet. With a swift curse he propelled himself forward trying to retrieve the wayward weapon. Luck wasn't with him and one of the woads managed to send him sprawling with a hard shove.
The woads sensing victory over the knight descended on him like a pack of wolves. Someone stamped on his left hand forcing the release of his remaining sword. With a cry of pain he grabbed one of his small daggers and plunged it into the calf of his attacker. The man joined Lancelot on the ground and the knight swiftly pulled the man to cover his prone body and instantly several sword thrusts that were meant for him plunged into the body. The man shrieked and the woads stepped back startled. Lancelot took full advantage and shoved the man off himself before scrambling to his feet dagger in hand. Lancelot challenged them on who would face him next. No one stepped forward; instead a circle was formed around him. Breathing heavily Lancelot raised his head, lowered his knife and stood tall, or as tall as he could in the pain he was in. He was being saved but he would not go quietly. Around him the sounds of battle were dimming, as he predicted it had been brief. Suddenly he heard a cry.
"RETREAT!" It was Julio. Fool! Lancelot thought and he turned to face the fort. The woads withdrew allowing Julio to retreat. Lancelot spied Plautius backing more cautiously away with two legionaries grouped together guarding the retreat. They were the only survivors.
"OPEN THE GATES!" At the last moment through a sea of bodies Lancelot caught Plautius's eye. Then the gates closed. The knight frowned; Julio had obviously planned this and had left the guards inside to open the gates.
"Do not worry for they shall all die." A heavily accented voice spoke up. The woads parted to reveal the elaborately masked man who had presented the challenge to Lancelot earlier. As if the words were the sign flaming arrows sailed over their heads impacting behind the fortified walls. Screams announced that they had hit their targets and the fort began to burn.
"Pick up your swords." The woad commanded. Lancelot bristled at the tone but did so none the less. He would destroy this mans overconfidence. Sarmatian knights were not to be underestimated.
"You want me to fight you?" Lancelot questioned as he arrogantly twirled his swords.
"I am an old man Lancelot of Sarmatia. I will not fight you. My son will."
Lancelot frowned at the man's words. He knew his name and that was strange enough although he supposed that anyone could find it out of they wanted to. They were not exactly covert. The circle again parted and a huge bulk of a man, much larger than even Bors, stepped forward.
'Typical! How come no evil leader ever had a dwarf as a son.' The knight though ruefully.
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