Authors notes: Thanks again to my fabulous reviewers!
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Tristan urged his mare into a canter. He itched for action. The constant scouting and returning to report his findings was wasting precious time. He was considering heading to the fort himself, Lancelot needed them and he knew that the knight wouldn't be waiting for the legionnaires if one of them were in trouble.
Darkness had settled and he could barely see the smoke, only the distorting of the stars as the tendrils blocked them from view momentarily.
With a sigh he slowly turned his horse and trotted back to the main group. As he approached he quickly glanced over their faces. Bors looked murderous and Galahad looked extremely frustrated. Dagonet appeared calm although small crinkles across his forehead indicated the tension he was feeling.
Gawain kept glancing at Galahad and Arthur his anguish at the situation clearly showing.
Arthur was, well, there were no words to describe how he must be feeling. They had been deceived and the results of that was Lancelot being left in harms way.
"Report." Arthur said softly as Tristan drew alongside.
"No sign of woads. Smoke is still on the horizon."
"Thank you." The roman spoke with no emotion. Tristan couldn't be sure that the man had even processed the information. Not that there was much to process. The report had been the same every time he went out.
"I should scout to the fort." He murmured attempting to prevent any of the other knights hearing.
"No."
"I would advise against just emerging from the treeline unprepared for what we may face."
"Could I trust you not to charge in there and help if the need arose? Could you sit and wait for us while watching a slaughter." Arthur said turning to look at the scout.
"I am not afraid of death and I will not shy away from offering aid but this needs to be done Arthur."
"Fine but if the odds are overwhelming do not engage. I want you to determine a plan of assault and nothing more."
"I will do what I feel is necessary Arthur."
Tristan offered a smile so like Lancelot that Arthur felt his heart contract painfully. Then the scout was gone.
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Jols was tugged painfully to the ground by Plautius.
"There is nothing you can do!" the Roman stated unhappily as he held onto the struggling squire.
The small group of survivors were huddled together watching as the woads dragged anyone they found out into the courtyard.
"We have to help them!"
"And do what? We will be struck down before we could get close."
Both of them suddenly flinched as the woads began to kill them one by one after questioning them.
"Those bastards!" Jols exclaimed.
"That knight Lancelot, he's being dragged in." one of the two remaining legionnaires pointed out.
Jols quickly averted his gaze from the bloody scene in front of them. His heart was relieved that the knight was still alive but he was obviously in bad shape.
The knight was being questioned but was obviously not giving the right answers. Jols felt every blow that Lancelot was dealt and when Lancelot screamed he almost cried. To see the bravest of all the knights reduced to a screaming bloody mess was the worst thing he could ever imagine.
"What are they doing?" Jols whispered as they watched the knight being dragged to the main gate.
"They are attaching him to the gate!" Plautius said shocked.
"Why would they do that?" the legionary asked.
"A warning or a symbol of the defeat." Plautius responded.
"Its freezing he'll die out there!" Jols exclaimed.
"What do you suggest? A polite request to let him down?" the Roman responded sarcastically.
Jols turned on him furiously.
"So we just sit here! Watch everyone die? Like cowards!"
"I like this no more than you do but getting ourselves killed will not help anyone. They are not going to sit around for an age."
"So we just wait here until they get bored?"
Plautius almost growled in frustration and decided not to answer. Instead he turned his attention back to the woads.
"They are withdrawing…look!" Plautius said as he noted the woads leaving through the main gate. Jols immediately leapt up and started for the courtyard.
"Do you have straw for brains?" the roman demanded as he again pulled the squire to the ground.
"Why did you stop me?" the squire snarled, pure fury radiating off him.
"They will not have gone far. They are probably watching and waiting for us to emerge. If we go out there they will know that everyone is hidden in here and that they hadn't escaped before the attack."
Jols went limp in his restraint.
"How long do we wait?" he questioned softly.
Plautius looked thoughtful. "Lets split up. We can scout around, if they are planning on returning we can try some traps."
"What about those in the cellars?" one of the legionnaires asked.
"They'll have to stay there of course." Plautius stated as he started to plan his moves.
"Yes sir but I mean they will need food and water."
"True but whatever we do they have to remain there and remain quiet."
"What about the fire?"
"Its sleeting and most of what will catch alight has already burned. The wind is not strong so hopefully it will burn itself out."
"That leads me back to my original question. How long do we wait?"
"Meet back here at dawn tomorrow. We'll discuss it then."
They broke off and headed to separate areas of the fort. Just as Jols was about to disappear Plautius halted him.
"Do not go near Lancelot. They will be watching him most of all."
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"Lancelot! Lancelot!" a young female voice cried. He felt someone poking him in the shoulder and knocked the irritating hand away from him.
With a sigh he relaxed again letting the sun warm his skin. His flexed his fingers allowing the soft grass to run across his skin.
Suddenly cold water splashed on his face and he opened his eyes to be met with the smiling face of his little sister. She giggled and danced out of reach of his flailing arms. He felt his face light up and he scrambled to his feet.
"Why you little…!" he exclaimed in mock anger. She laughed again and ran up the hill towards their village. Lancelot shook his head and charged after her, keeping his pace slow so he would not catch her.
As he reached the top of the hill he halted and looked down upon his village. It was bathed in the early afternoon sunshine and the sound of children's laughter floated on the wind.
"There's nothing greater in the world is there son?" his fathers voice appeared in his ears.
"It is good to have you home but I think you need to wash up before dinner."
Lancelot turned to his face his father whose smiling face was looking over him. Lancelot looked down and saw his body was covered in blood. It wasn't just dried blood but the wounds were still bleeding. He stumbled backwards and fell clumsily to the ground.
"Father?" he whispered. The man just laughed.
"Don't be late son you know how your mother gets if you are late for a meal."
Lancelot began to tremble in pain.
"Don't leave me here!" he cried but his father kept laughing and walking. Lancelot closed his eyes and when he opened them he was met with the dead staring eyes of the soldier. Despair washed over him and he let darkness take him over hoping that he would not wake again.
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