Misguided Roses chapter 2
I love reviews, and I want to respond to anyone who reviews, because they are greatly appreciated. I love constructive criticism, and I would be happy to answer any questions regarding king Arthur, my writing (or lack there of), or anything in general about life.
Devonshirelass- Thanks for the review! I hope I can make updates regularly, but school should be starting up again in a month and I plan to get in atleast 4 more chapters before then…after that…if this story is still well received…we'll see how often I update.
Dracula's Princess- Lancelot is my favorite character in the King Arthur movie and I promise no love triangles will prevail…thanks for your review!!!
je suis une pizza - Yea, I can't stand it when there's more than one girl and each girl is paired off with a knight/warrior/ main heroes. I actually hate describing anything about the main girl, which is why I haven't even mentioned her color hair or eyes or anything. I actually like leaving that up to the reader. It's more fun.
Torque69- Thanks for the comment! I hope my next few chapters appeal to you J
Legolover- Perhaps a lancelot pairing is in store…still not sure if there will be a love story yet. I don't want this fic to be mary suish but everyone has their own ideas of what a mary sue is. Personally I don't think mine has been so far, but my mood may change. Thanks for the review!!! Enjoy!
I'm not sure of the events that took place over the next few days. I occasionally opened my eyes, but was too weak to fully comprehend my surroundings. I thought I was dying, but every time I awoke for a few moments, I was lying in a bed. Sometimes an attendant opened my mouth to let the cool water rush down my sore throat. My lower back writhed with pain. My thoughts slipped to recurring nightmares, with Germanius coming into my room, finishing me off. But that did not happen.
I believe I had been in the heart of Hadrian's Wall for three days. It was night when I awoke, feeling slightly better and fully understanding everything around me. One of the servants entered the room, bearing a bowl of soup. I attempted to sit up, finding it not as painful as before.
"Your safe here, my lady. My master has given up his quarters to you while he is away," the servant, a man in his middle ages commented.
I tried sipping the soup, but coughed immediately. "Who is your master?" I asked, my voice surprisingly hoarse.
"I am the servant to all the Knights of the Round, but this is Sir Lancelot's room. I was told you had already been acquainted." It took me a second to realize who this Lancelot was. Ah yes, I recalled. The curly haired man I saved. A new thought struck me.
"Where is the Bishop Germanius?" I bit my lower lip in worry. He had failed to kill me, and he probably knew I'd tell these knights of his horrible deeds of barbarianism.
The servant poured water into my cup. "He stays in Master Artorius' room. He's been anxious to see you, greatly saddened over his mistake. Sir Lancelot told me not to let him see you until he returned."
I gulped, scared for my life. "Where did Lancelot go?" I enquired, hoping it wouldn't be long. These knights needed to know the truth before…before anything happened to me.
The servant replied, "North of the Wall into Woad territory. The Bishop made them go on one final journey to rescue a Roman family."
"Marius…" I whispered to myself, though he overheard.
"That's right. How'd you know about him, eh?"
I was about to explain everything, but I held my tongue. Servants were known to serve more than one master. Gossips thrived among them. Germanius might have sent him here to test me. "I'm not sure. I must have overheard it while I was unconscious."
The servant raised an eyebrow, but spoke no more on the matter. He left after I had finished my soup. I sighed, laying back down on my bed. What was I to do now? My wound was healing, and I guessed I'd be riding in a week or so's time. But until then, I was a prisoner in the same building as a mad man who wanted me killed. I conspired various plots in my head until I could think no more, and sleep arrived as dawn broke.
The next day I attempted to try walking across the room, exploring Lancelot's things. During midday the servant came back, bearing more food and drink. He told me I was healing fast, and left soon after. An hour passed when someone else knocked at the door. I picked up one of Lancelot's small daggers on his table and climbed into bed.
The Bishop walked in, looking smug. He silently closed the door. I held the dagger behind my back, sitting up on the bed. He would make the first move. He stood a few feet away, looking around. I breathed heavily, unsure of his intentions. Would he kill me in broad daylight?
"You are a tough lady, Arria. Much like your father. Luckier than him, I suppose. I am afraid I am in a complex state of affairs. You see, I did not intend to let you live. But, since you are alive and these knights see you as…good, I am here to propose something for you."
My eyes narrowed. "What?"
He smiled devilishly, showing his yellowing teeth. "Keep your mouth shut about the deaths of your family, and I will let you live."
I was scared. I knew he was lying, he'd just kill me the moment he got me away from these walls. Somehow I got up enough courage to say, "You mean I can't tell them what a piece of shit you are? Oh pity. I suppose you will not try to kill me now, since its evident they'll know it was you."
Instead of getting angry, he smiled once more. "You are smarter than you look, it seems. These Sarmatian knights and their leader do not know who you are, where you come from, nor why you fought with those barbaric Picts. Who do you think they'd believe? A servant of God or a whore?" He drew a knife, and before I could move he held it up against my throat. He covered my mouth from screaming. My eyes widened in terror.
He whispered softly into my ear, "This is your last chance, Arria of the house of Gaius. You can do as I say, and perhaps live to see tomorrow, or die right now. Your choice." I breathed through my nose heavily, rage surrounding my thoughts. I still held the dagger, but knew it would be pointless to use it now, with a knife at my throat. I nodded my compliance, and he withdrew the knife.
"Good. Now, here's your story that you are to say…" I listened to his plan, scoffing at it but keeping a straight face. He explained how after they returned and I explained my background, I would accompany the Bishop back to Rome. He was mad if he thought I would really agree to this, knowing fully well that I would be killed once we left. However, this was my only choice for the moment. After explaining everything, he leaned in closer to me, smelling my neck.
"Once we return to Rome, there's no reason why you can't accompany me to my house. My bedroom is much grander than this. And maybe, just maybe, if you are as pleasurable in bed as you are to look at, you might live." His hand leaned forward towards my chest, and he softly licked my cheek with his disgusting tongue. I was frozen with anger, and I said nothing in reply. He chuckled a bit to himself, and exited the room.
I wiped my cheek with my hand, feeling much more gross than I had ever felt before. How dare he touch me, I told myself. I should have thrust my dagger right through his cold heart. He was no man of God, only a pig.
A few days past and the Bishop did not return. After a week of my captivity, I heard the gates open, and the Sarmatian knights emerge within the walls, bearing about fifty villagers with them. I watched from high above as the Bishop went to greet them with a smile.
"You are alive! Against all odds!" The Bishop replied with open arms. The knights looked solemn, none greeting the Bishop with happiness. I looked over to see a horse bearing a body, presumably one of their own. As papers of discharge were handed out, I watched as a burly knight threw his at the Bishop. Perhaps these knights can be allies, I thought to myself. They looked ready to pounce on this so called, 'man of God'. Surely the Bishop knew I would blab my story to them. He had to have something else up his sleeve.
The knights left, walking the horse that carried their dead friend, presumably to go bury him. It was then that I noticed Electo. My father had been one of Electo's mentors before he went to serve under the Pope. He had spent many a day in my home. He knew who I truly was. What would the Bishop do?
In response to my silent question, the Bishop gazed towards the window from which I watched. He gave me a slight smile before beckoning the family inside. I noted that Marius was not with them.
About a half hour later the Bishop entered my room again. "Spill one word, and the boy dies. Your father's wish was to see the boy arrive safely in Rome. If he doesn't, it will be on your hands. My guards will be with him twenty four hours. If I notice anything awry, I will signal them to kill him, and you as well. Think carefully. And do NOT let the boy see you." He turned to exit the door. It was now or never. I was only two feet away. Before he could open the door I angrily shoved Lancelot's small dagger into his back. He clung to the door as I yanked it off him. He turned around slowly, blood dripping off his mouth, and I sunk the dagger through his chest, his eyes widening in rage as I did so. He could not speak. Thoughts of my father and sisters rushed through my head, and I yanked the dagger free once more, and this time placed it inches from his neck.
"I do not care for the boy's life nor mine. I only want revenge," I whispered, then thrust the dagger through his throat, the tip of it coming out on the other side of his neck. He fell silently, his eyes open in surprise. I left the dagger in him.
You might be thinking that's the end of this story- with the silly Roman girl defeating the powerful Bishop. But it is not so.
I realized that he must have placed guards nearby. I needed to escape before they realized there lovely Bishop was dead and I was responsible. I looked around the room. There was no rope of any kind, nothing to get down out the window from. I was stuck.
"Bishop Germanius!" One of the guards said in a booming voice. A loud bang hit the door. They knew something was off. I wrenched loose the dagger and stood as far from the door as possible as the banging continued. I held it, shaking, knowing fully well I couldn't take on his guards. There was nothing else I could do. Soon the door had been knocked down, and three of the Roman guards stood for a moment, gasping at the Bishop's body, then looking towards me, my dagger drawn. They rushed towards me, blades drawn, eyes of fury.
I dodged the first swing with ease but was backing myself into a corner. A barely deflected a second blow with the tip of the dagger, and it fell from my grasp. I was now defenseless, with nowhere to go. They smirked in delight, advancing on me slowly.
"This one can't get far. Perhaps we should have a lil fun before we kill her." My eyes widened.
The second guard piped in, "She is a pretty lil thing. Such a waste, really."
I clenched my fist. "Your master is lying there, dead, you know. You might not want to slather your disgusting selves by his holy ass." A fresh slap from the third guard crossed my cheek, with such force that threw me off balance. I fell, my lower back aching.
"Bind her hands."
Soon a rope was tied with my hands behind my back. One of them pulled with my hair and dragged me over to the bed, where they picked me up and threw me on it.
They smirked. The burliest one of them came towards me first, ripped open my robe, revealing my chest. I screamed, and he smacked me across the face again. It was then that a loud booming voice shouted, "Stop this instant!". The guards turned, and on seeing who it was, backed off of me.
The leader, the one they called Arthur, along with Lancelot had their swords drawn in the direction of the guards.
The tallest guard spoke, "This whore murdered a man of God!"
Arthur drew closer toward him, his sword ready to kill. "And that justifies raping her?" The guard was silent. "Tristan, put these men in the gallows below. We'll decide what to do with them later." He looked down at the dead Bishop, then back up at me.
"Lancelot, take her to my room while I dispose of him. Unbind her but be careful." Lancelot nodded and picked me up, carrying me toward Arthur's room. I held my robe together, making sure nothing was revealed. I could not tell whether this Lancelot was happy or solemn about my murderous deed. He unbound my hands and got me a new robe to change into. He looked away as I changed, and it took me awhile to get into it, my wound still hurting.
"I see your wound is healing," he said, still looking away.
"Slowly. You can turn around now." I replied, unsure of what to do. He motioned towards the bed, and I lay with my back against the wall.
"I'll wait til Arthur gets hear to ask you everything. What is your name?" His intense eyes stared into mine, unsure of what to expect.
"Arria, daughter of Nicoteles of the Gaius house."
His eyes narrowed. "A Roman?" I nodded, staring back just as intensely.
Arthur entered soon after, looking at Lancelot. "Leave us." Lancelot looked surprised, but did as he was told. He took one last look at me before exiting, shutting the door behind him.
"You know who I am?" He questioned. I nodded. I repeated my name, and he looked taken aback. "I knew your father, Arria. He was a friend of my mentor Pelegius. Tell me, how is it that a Roman girl attacks with Woads and then kills a Roman Bishop?" My mouth opened slightly as I looked down. This Arthur looked curious rather than angered, and his voice was not one of contempt.
I gulped. "My family was sent to Britain with that sorry excuse of a man you see bleeding down the hall. We were sent here to tell you about Marius and his son. Along the way the Bishop killed my family and I escaped. I was captured by these Woads, as you call them, and their leader told me the only way I would live is if I fought the Bishop and his men along with them. I wanted vengeance, and I willingly agreed. The Woads wanted me dead, the Romans wanted me dead. I believe you saw the rest." I looked up, expecting to see his sword drawn. He only looked confused, his soft eyes questioning.
"Why would the Bishop want you dead? Why did he kill your family?"
"Because my father and Pelegius were speaking out against the Church in his mind. He wanted to get rid of us without letting the Pope know it was him."
"And he had Pelegius killed." realization dawned on him, and I saw his fists clench with anger. "And he prevented the freedom of one of my men." His eyes began to swell, his voice hoarse. It looked like I was not the only one wanting vengeance on the Bishop. His face calmed, and he turned back to me.
"Lady Arria, you have done Rome a great…deed, in wiping it of its evils. How's your wound?"
"Healing. Forgive me, sir, but what is to become of me?" I asked, frightened. I was no longer scared of the Bishop, but could I return to Rome knowing evils lay around every corner with no family to find solace with? I was alone.
He seemed to understand. "You may stay here as long as you like. Please, get some rest. We'll talk more later." He placed his hand on top of mine and gave it a squeeze for comfort. He trusted me.
A few moments later, a familiar face entered. "Electo!" I shouted, walking slowly to meet him. He embraced me in a hug, and we sat down on the bed.
"I was told what horrors you went through, Arria. I had no idea. Please, believe me that when we return to Rome you will be safe. The Pope will make sure of that."
Memories flooded back to when Electo and I played games before he went off to study with father. He was three years my younger, though even when we were little his mouth was always the wiser.
I shook my head. "I cannot go back, Electo. There is nothing for me there. Only pain of what once was…" I drifted off, not knowing what else to say. He nodded.
"You have been through a lot. We can discuss this later, when you are healed and well rested. We leave tomorrow, before the Saxons come."
"The Saxons?" I asked.
He blinked, then remembered. "The Saxons tried to kill my family and people. The knights defeated a part of their army, but they are on their way here as we speak. Rome is giving up this land to them, so we must leave. I'll wake you at dawn." He kissed my forehead, and without another word, exited to his own room. I sat their alone, taking everything in.
Hours past and darkness came, and with it came the Saxons. I went out on the wall with everyone else, looking across to see thousands of soldiers armed to the teeth. Lancelot came up behind me. "Please, follow me." He said, unnerved by something. I had seen him argue with Arthur just moments ago, his face sweating.
He led me back to his room, opening the door. The body of the Bishop was no longer there, and no traces of his blood appeared on the door or floor.
"Arthur told me everything." He began. I opened my mouth, but found there was nothing to say. He continued. "Why would a Roman girl save a Sarmatian knight?" he questioned. "After, it happened, I couldn't get your face out of my head. I couldn't see how a girl who attacked with Woads would care to spare a Sarmatian who means nothing."
"My fight was not with you, Sir Lancelot. I was out to get my vengeance, and the Woads didn't want me alive either. You had done nothing against me, and the Bible teaches love."
His eyebrows were raised. "Ahh. And does not your god also teach forgiveness and thou shalt not kill? Yet you killed for vengeance, my dear." His statement made me gasp in surprise. Once he said it though, he looked like he wanted to take it back.
I sighed and looked out the window into the starry night. "My God does teach that. But it is a little hard to think clearly when you see your family murdered before your very eyes and the same murderer go after you. I suppose you couldn't understand." A hand touched my shoulder, and I looked back.
Lancelot stared intently on me with pity. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to offend you. You have accomplished what I wanted. Bishop Germanius prevented my freedom, and sent one of my comrades to his death. You did what I could not." He looked out the window with me.
"Thank you for saving my life. I am in your debt, my lady." I did not look at him, only outside, where a thousand Saxons sat.