Chapter 2: The Past Remembered
The scout called Tristan had gone out once more. Ariadne was beginning to learn their names as well. The muscular bald knight was called Bors, the knight with blonde braids was Gawain, and Galahad was the youngest with curly hair. The forest whispered around them and the snow fell more plentifully. Her stallion rounded his neck and walked patiently behind the caravan and the other horses. He had been Marius's, but was to be sacrificed. They never rode him, only the blacksmith had broken him. She ran her long fingers through his mane. He would need a good grooming. The wagon wheels creaked in front of her. She heard a scream from the wagon and kicked the horse into a canter. Arthur came out a few moments later.
"What did you do to her?" she asked him.
Arthur didn't answer and Ariadne jumped off her horse. She grabbed Arthur's arm.
"Please, answer me," she said.
Arthur turned around.
"No harm is to come to yo u or your friend," he said quietly.
Seeing her mixed expression, he put a hand on her shoulder.
"She was tortured. I moved her fingers back into place," he said.
Ariadne closed her eyes. She remembered that day so well. The machines. Everything was so vivid. She had hid in the stable and Marius had forgotten about her for the day. If he had seen her, he would have surely tried her and then she would have joined Guinevere.
When she opened her eyes, Arthur was still there.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Arthur nodded and mounted his horse and rode ahead. She followed him with her eyes before she too, pulled herself back up into the saddle. She settled behind the wagon and fell into her thoughts.
The flower smelled so sweet in the girl's slender fingers. She twirled it around before placing it behind her ear. She spun in a circle, smiling up at the sky. She suddenly stopped. Screams could be heard down the hill. She ran down and saw burning rooftops and fences.
"No," she whispered.
She ran down between the homes and searched for her mother and grandmother. Not finding them, she sank to her knees and wept. The flower fell from her hair and gracefully settled onto the dirt. She barely struggled as hands lifted her onto a cart and chained her wrists to it. She listened to the men talk.
"How much do ye think we'll get for the welp?" one asked.
"She can be only 12 by the looks of her. A smart man would pay a good price," another answered, chuckling.
They both swivelled around to look at her.
"Girl! Your name!"
She only hung her head. She was not worthy of a name. No family. Her name had nothing to it. She felt a dirty hand slap her ash covered cheek. She welcomed the sting. Tears made trails down her face. Darkness took her as she closed her tear swollen eyes.
The wagon rumbled to a stop at a village. It was a Roman village by the looks of it. The men roughly took her off the wagon and began wagering with a short, black haired man.
"Sold," her captor said.
The Roman took her bony fingers and led her into his home.
"FULCINIA!" he bellowed.
He turned back to her.
"My little flower, you will be fed and clothed. I will speak with you later," he said, touching her golden locks.
She pulled away and for a moment, the man's face was a display of enragement. It soon disappeared as his wife appeared beside him. The man nodded to his wife and she took the girl's hand. She brought her to a separate room and bathed her. She found clothing for her to wear and placed a necklace around her neck. She pulled a small ring from the girl's finger.
"Child, what is this?"
"A gift, from a woman in the village," she said quietly.
"What is your name?"
"I am Ariadne," she half-whispered.
Fulcinia nodded.
"My husband does not make the best decisions. He will test you, child," she said.
Ariadne's eyes widened for a moment, but she nodded. She was now a slave. Obedient to her master's will. She set about her chores.
"Keep up. No one will come to find you if you fall behind."
Lancelot had ridden up next to her. She nodded and cantered back up behind the wagon, which was a considerable distance off. She had not noticed in her pensive state. He rode by her and she watched as he began speaking with Guinevere. She felt the snow begin to mix with rain. Lancelot raised his hand to catch some. He stopped his horse and the wagon moved on. Ariadne nudged the horse into a trot and caught up to him. He glanced at her.
"Are you now willing to tell me who you are?" he asked.
She sighed and looked down.
"Ariadne. My village was burned and I was sold to Marius. I was his house slave for quite a time. He tried to force me to his bed. I refused and tried to run away. I was caught and whipped for it. Many times he had that leather slice my bare skin. He enjoyed watching me. He wanted to see them hurt me. Marius cared naught for others. Only himself. He tortured Guinevere for the same reason. We always resisted. He gave me to the blacksmith to work. The man was kind. He taught me how to wield a sword and how to shoot. I've been away from my home for 15 years. My heritage, of which you questioned earlier, is both Woad and Sarmatian. My mother was captured by a Sarmatian warrior. They fell in love. He died in battle when I was young."
The caravan had stopped and Tristan had gone out once more. Lancelot stared at her in silence. How could she be Sarmatian? Arthur was leading people towards the trees and she started to canter off.
"Wait!"
She pulled the stallion back.
"Sarmatian?"
"Aye," she said with a small smile.
"Have you ever seen it?"
"No. All I ever had of it were stories."
Lancelot looked down and was silent once again.
"I know who you are, Lancelot. I've heard the tales. My mother knew of you somehow. However, not all tales are true," she said.
With that, she rode off and untacked her horse under the trees. She didn't have very much with her, but she had managed to grab an extra blanket from the barn. The horse shifted away as she started to place it on his back and she quieted him. Once she had finished she went over to the wagon. Guinevere smiled up at her friend.
"Ariadne, you've made it."
Ariadne grinned and sat down beside her.
"Aye. Would not have liked to meet the Saxons on my own. How are your fingers?" she asked.
Guinevere just nodded her head.
Fulcinia walked in to give Guinevere her bath. Ariadne gave her a small smile and walked out of the wagon. She caught sight of Lancelot standing by the trees. She shook her head.
Of course, she thought, all the tales are true. Including his love of women. With one last glance, she headed over to help the women. They were making stew and making sure everyone was well and accounted for.
An hour or so later, she took a bowl of stew. Lancelot had not gotten anything as the other knights had. The women had taken as little as possible and the stew was nothing special, but at least it was something. It was still snowing and she pulled her cloak tighter. She saw Lancelot leaning up against a tree and quickened her pace. She suddenly stopped as she saw Guinevere come up. She hid behind a tree, the shadows concealing her. She had many questions she had wanted to ask him. About Sarmatia, the knights, everything. Her heart thumped as she listened to the conversation. She was jealous for a moment, disappointed as well. Guinevere was going to catch all the men's eyes. She shook her head. It was stupid to even be thinking this way. One day and she was letting her guard down. Lancelot stood up and she could hear his voice a little clearer.
"I would have left you and the boy to die," he said.
With one last, lingering look at Guinevere he walked off. Guinevere stood there a moment more, wrapped in her red cloak. She finally walked back towards camp and Ariadne quietly found Lancelot. She found him sitting against another tree, playing with a wooden necklace.
"I brought you some of the stew," she said quietly.
He looked up at the sound of her voice.
"Thank you," he replied, taking the stew from her. It had become less hot as she had eavesdropped.
She started to walk away but stopped, fighting with herself. She walked back and sat down next to him.
"Tell me about Sarmatia and your adventures. I haven't heard a story in many years," she said.
He looked at her in surprise, but grinned.
"The land stretched forever. I used to ride a lot. Always taking a different path," he said.
"My father said the land had been that way as well," she said.
Lancelot ran a finger along the edge of the bowl.
"You said you've been gone fifteen years. I have as well. This is my last mission before I can return to Sarmatia as a free man," he said.
She grew silent and took his hand. His suspicious eyes stayed on her face. He opened his hand and found a small ring.
"Your mother's. She visited and knew my mother and had given it to her. In turn my mother gave it to me. They hoped we would one day find you for her. I do not know what has been her fate, but you have her token now," she explained.
"How-"
"She had told my mother about her brave son who had been taken by the Romans to fight. I knew it was you when I learned your name."
He looked away, his heart heavy with sadness.
She stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You see Lancelot, you and I are both slaves to this Roman world. They've changed our lives and have taken away what we love most. I hope one day I will see you again. Hopefully, one day if I reach Sarmatia," she said.
She started to walk away. The snow had lightened and it drifted lazily from the sky. She closed her eyes. She had done what her mother had tried. The ring was with Lancelot. She could go back to her normal life, if it was normal.
"Wait."
She turned around. Lancelot was walking towards her, a frown on his face.
"Why do you fear us? You never stay more than a moment," he said.
"I'm not very fond of men. You have Marius to thank," she said with a harsh laugh.
Lancelot placed a hand on her cheek and gently turned her face towards him.
"You've nothing to fear," he said.
She felt the heat rising to her face where his fingers were. She hesitated a moment and walked back towards camp. Lancelot ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He sat back down and watched Ariadne from afar as she sat against a tree close to the camp. The night fell down upon them, heavy and dark.
Several hours later, the sun woke them up. It was accompanied by a cry of "Seize him!". Ariadne grabbed her sword and ran into the camp. Dagonet was fighting off several mercenaries who had attacked him at Marius's command. She lunged forward and ran her sword through one mercenary. She stopped when she saw Lucan in Marius's arms. A large mercenary grabbed her around the throat and held a knife to her neck.
"Remember me?" he asked nastily.
She didn't answer for fear of moving and hitting the small blade by accident. There was a sound as an arrow flew through the air. It flew true, straight through Marius's heart. He lost his grip on Lucan and crashed to the ground. Guinevere stood straight and tall, a terrifying and beautiful sight as she held the bow easily. Lancelot and Arthur stood next to her, swords out. Lancelot walked over to the mercenary holding her and pointed a dagger in his back.
"Release her," he said in a threatening voice.
The mercenary gave him a angry glare, but it was the last thing he did. Lancelot stuck the dagger through his back and Ariadne twisted away from the dead man's grip.
"You have a choice. You can help, or you can die," Arthur said.
"Drop your weapons!" the mercenary leader yelled.
The weapons clashed to the ground in unison and they returned to their work. Lancelot walked over to her, a charming grin on his face.
"I thought you said you could fight-"
"I can," she retorted quickly.
Lancelot gave a small laugh and mounted his horse. Gawain walked over to her.
"My lady, if this fool is bothering you I will dispose of him immediately. Just say the word," he said, winking.
"That won't be necessary. I can always do it myself," she replied, a wry grin on her face.
Gawain shook his head in amusement and went to ready his mount. Tristan rode in and dropped a crossbow at Arthur's feet.
"I killed four. We must hurry, for they are right on our ass," he said.
Arthur nodded to his knights and the train hurriedly got under way. Ariadne stayed more towards the back, her bow in her hands. Lancelot held his horse back and rode next to her.
"Do you prefer being behind the wagon closer to the Saxons?" he asked.
"No, I was just staying here in case they do catch us," she replied.
"Ah. I see."
Ariadne had a smile on her face and they rode along in silence.
"There was something I forgot to ask you last night," he said.
"Yes?"
"How close did you live to Sarmatia?" he asked.
"I've always lived in Britain. My parents were once in Sarmatia for a time, but they returned here," she said.
Lancelot nodded, still thinking.
They had not gone extremely far when they came to a large lake of ice. Arthur and Tristan cantered out onto it, followed by the other knights. Lancelot cantered past her and joined the others. Arthur and Tristan had dismounted and Arthur looked back at them.
"Tell the wagons to spread out and for the people to get out of them," he said.
The villagers did as they were told and the wagons slowly rumbled out onto the ice which constantly groaned beneath them. The serene snow covered mountains seemed to suddenly have many eyes that were gleefully waiting for the ice to crack and swallow them.
Ariadne led her horse, keeping one arm out to hold him behind her. The sound of the threatening drumbeats drew closer and Arthur turned his horse around.
"Knights..."
"Well, I'm tired of running. And these Saxons are so close behind, my ass is hurtin'," Bors said.
"Never liked looking over my shoulder anyway,"Tristan mumbled.
"It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket," Gawain said.
"And we'll finally get a look at the bastards," Galahad added.
Dagonet who had been smirking the whole time led his horse over.
"Here. Now," he said.
Lancelot didn't move, just gave a small movement of his head. He handed his horse to Jols. Ganis walked over to Arthur.
"I can fight," he said.
"No. You must lead the people to Hadrian's Wall. Track the coastline until you are well south of the wall and you'll miss the Saxon army that is inland," he said and turned to the mercenaries.
"But you're seven against 200!"
"Eight. You could use another bow," Guinevere said as she got out of the wagon.
"You will have you chance soon enough. This man is now your captain. Do as he says!"
Jols was busy putting bows and arrows out. The horses were being led away and Ariadne handed them her horse as well.
"Go with the caravan," Lancelot said.
"No. This is my battle as well as yours," she replied.
She picked up her bow and tested the string. Arthur briefly glanced at her, but said nothing. She checked her belt and her arm and hand guards. Lancelot hadn't moved.
"Why do you care if I fight or not," she said and roughly pushed past him.
The nine of them remaining readied their bows. The Saxon army slowly spilled onto the ice. Their drums still beating and a small chant being cried. Guinevere had an odd expression on her face.
"You look frightened. There is a large number of lonely men out there," Lancelot said.
Guinevere looked at Ariadne and raised her eyebrows. She turned back to Lancelot.
"Don't worry. I won't let them rape you," she replied.
Ariadne grinned. She and Guinevere exchanged one more glance, their eyes sparkling. From across the lake, an arrow flew, but fell short.
"I believe they're waiting for an invitation. Bors! Tristan!" Arthur called.
"But we're far out of range," Guinevere pointed out quickly.
Arthur didn't say anything. Tristan put a group of arrows on his string and launched them at the same time as Bors. The arrows found their targets and several Saxons crashed to the ice. Guinevere's face showed no emotion, but inside she was secretly impressed. Ariadne looked at the bows, which were a much different style than hers. She hurriedly picked up a spare and strung it. She tested it and held another arrow to it. The Saxon army let out a cry and began their slow march forward. The knights readied more arrows, ready to pick the rest of the Saxons off.
"Aim for the end ranks! Make them cluster!" Arthur instructed.
They let off a rapid fire, taking down Saxon after Saxon. Every time a Saxon on the outside went down, the others grouped towards the center. However, the ice held, not cracking as Arthur had hoped. Ariadne looked at him anxiously. She was much preferring the shooting from afar. She shot another group of arrows and took down more Saxons. They screamed and clawed at their faces or chests. Arthur couldn't wait any longer for the ice.
"Close ranks! Prepare for hand to hand combat!" he commanded.
Ariadne threw her bow on the ground and picked up her sword. Lancelot pulled out his twin swords and she looked at them enviously.
"I we return to the Wall, promise you'll teach me how to use those. I'm thinking the skill may be quite useful someday," she said.
Lancelot grinned.
"You can manage them?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied, nonchalantly.
That was the last time of the day that they would have a conversation that was remotely happy. Dagonet looked across the ice at the approaching Saxons. He dropped his sword and picked up his large battle axe. With one final look at them, he rushed towards the Saxons.
"Dagonet!" Bors yelled.
"Cover him!" cried Arthur, his face covered in worry.
The knights had picked up their bows once more and released another volley of arrows as Dagonet chopped at the ice. He continued until it started to crack. Ariadne watched the Saxon leader as his men fell.
"Kill him!" Cynric screamed from the Saxon ranks.
The remaining Saxon archers released their arrows. Dagonet was making more progress as he chopped and Ariadne could feel the ice quake beneath her feet and she immediately wished in a small corner of her mind that she had gone with the caravan. However, the warrior in her soon took over and she shook her head. She shot another arrow into the Saxon ranks and watched with satisfaction as it buried itself in a Saxon archer. One of the few remaining archers released an arrow and it hit Dagonet square in the side. He stumbled, but only for a moment. He swung the axe again and brought it down on the ice.
"Dag!" Bors cried.
Arthur rushed forward, an arrow hitting him in the shoulder. He got to Dagonet's side as he took a last swing.
"Cover them!" Lancelot yelled.
They released another volley of arrows as the ice gave way and started to split. The ice trembled beneath her again, much worse this time. She dropped her bow and rushed out onto the ice. Arthur was struggling to drag Dagonet back. A Saxon landed an arrow in her side, but she ignored it as pain seared down her side. She reached Arthur and Dagonet and began to help drag him back. Bors ran out as well. The Saxons across the ice, slid in between the cracks, meeting their icy doom. They reached the others and Bors put a hand on Dagonet's face.
"Dagonet. Stay with me. Dagonet!" Bors said hoarsely.
Guinevere fired one last shot at the Saxons who had retreated to the shore. She hit a soldier and they backed up more. Bors still sat on the ground with Dagonet and Ariadne looked on, her head swimming. She dropped her sword in the snow and sank slowly to her knees. Blood dripped like raindrops to the snow. It stained the snow and ice, being absorbed as water on a sponge. She held her hand over it and started to stand up. She was too late. Lancelot saw her and walked over.
"It's not deep," she said hurriedly.
Blood pulsed relentlessly from the wound and Lancelot looked at her, his face full of disbelief. Ariadne's eyes were filling with tears as she looked at Dagonet's lifeless form.
"No," Lancelot murmured.
Ariadne looked at him in surprise. Guinevere came over. Her face sad as well.
"We need to get the arrow out. When we get to the Wall, we'll find a surgeon," he said.
"Really, I can do it myself. You should help with Dagonet," she said, her breathing becoming shallow.
Lancelot shook his head. Guinevere took her hand and he pulled the arrow out. It wasn't terribly painful for a few moments. She took a step and the pain seared down her side once more. She forced a smile.
"Come," she said.
Lancelot threw the arrow in the snow and mounted his horse. Dagonet had been placed on his horse, a black sheet brought over his face. Ariadne had not known Dagonet well, but seeing how he had treated Lucan and how he had sacrificed his life for them was enough. She gingerly pulled herself up into the saddle. The stallion began moving forward and another bolt of pain ran along her side. She glanced over at Arthur who had removed the arrow in his shoulder. He stood up straight and was expressionless. Jols watched him apprehensively as he mounted his horse. Guinevere had been given a spare horse and she had already started trotting away. Arthur went to catch up with her and the other knights walked alongside Dagonet's body. Lancelot pulled his horse away from his friend and rode beside her.
"How-"
"I'm fine," she said.
Lancelot smiled to himself and watched the trail ahead.
"Lancelot, I heard you telling Guinevere you would have left her and the boy to die. And had our places been exchanged and we had not spoken, I would have done the same," she said sadly.
He looked up at her abruptly.
"I'm sorry, but as I mentioned before, I was never fond of men," she said.
Lancelot gave a small, hollow laugh.
"And as I said before, you have nothing to worry about."
She shook her head, a small grin of relief on her face.
Arthur led them at a quick pace as they tried to catch the caravan, incase some of Woads. He had lost a lot of blood, but he struggled on. The knights were silent and Guinevere's face was set. Ariadne rode at the back and slowly rubbed her fingers along her stallion's mane.
"You need a name," she murmured.
Lancelot trotted up beside her.
"We should be at the Wall soon," he said.
She tilted her head to the side.
"At the Wall, are most of the people Romans?" she asked.
Lancelot did not answer her.
Ariadne decided to let it go and she tightened her reins. The horse bent his neck and chewed the bit.
"Where do you plan on going after we return?" Lancelot asked her.
She looked at him, her eyes narrowed.
"I'll probably travel. Find another village to stay. I'll help another blacksmith or work in a stable. I've nothing else to do," she said.
"You could always come to Sarmatia. You'd finally be able to see your father's home," he said.
Ariadne looked ahead. Sarmatia. The country that had always been no more than a distant dream to her. Just a story. A fairy tale. She was pulled out of her head as her horse began a slow canter to keep up with Arthur. She could see the caravan ahead and the small group picked up speed. Lancelot cantered by and caught up with Arthur. Bors led Dagonet's horse, his face a mixture of emotions.
Ariadne was quiet. Lost in her thoughts once more.
The grave was nothing special really, just a pile of Earth with an old sword in it. Nothing left to remind a young girl that her father's bones were in the ground beneath her. A lone tear ran down her cheek and fell onto the grass. So many girls had a father who taught them things they shouldn't, who loved them, and who found them decent husbands. All she had now, was her mother, who grieved beside her. The woman stood up and laid a frail hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"Hurry along, Aria. We have chores to do," she said, wiping the tears away.
The girl shook her head and watched as her mother seemed to drift down the hill. She reached one bony hand out and grasped the hilt of the sword. Her father had no sons. He had died before her mother could bless him with any. This sword would remain in this dirt for eternity. She gave a feeble pull and nothing happened. She finally decided what to do. She ran to the bottom of the hill and gathered flowers. She wove them together and hung them around the hilt of the sword. Her father may not have a son, but he had a daughter who would always keep him in her thoughts.
"What are you always thinking about?"
Lancelot was next to her once more.
"Nothing of a concern to you," she replied.
He raised his eyebrows at herand looked off into the distance. She felt bad for snapping, but what business did he have in her thoughts?
"Does the Roman Wall have many jobs?" she asked.
"Aye. You'll see when we arrive."
Just as he spoke, they came over another hill and below them, was a field leading off to Hadrian's Wall. It looked bleak and strong. She saw Roman guards patrolling the top level and large doors with large thorns coming off of them. It was certainly a fortress to behold with care.
The knights were all silent at the sight, their faces set. No one ventured a look upon Dagonet, who would never see again with wide eyes, the Wall that had enslaved him all these years. Arthur kicked his horse on and they moved down the hill. The caravan had almost reached the gates, which were slowly being opened. Ariadne thought of Lucan, down in the wagon. Guinevere had gotten back into the wagon and tied her horse to the back. If anyone could comfort Lucan, it would be Guinevere. She got the image of Lucan and Dagonet's body out of her head and concentrated on the horse beneath her, which was actually, very soothing. She looked down as his legs stretched over the grass and she seemed to be falling into it as it entranced her eyes. The grass changed to a stone path and horse's hooves made a different sound and small rocks flew up behind him. She forgot about the pain in her side and how she would have to make a new life for herself, once she was in behind the Wall. He tossed his head and Ariadne sat up once more and saw that they were about to pass under the gates. She looked up at the gate above her. The Roman soldiers saluted Arthur and the caravan rolled into the courtyard.
Ariadne watched the surrounding people apprehensively. Maybe she would be better off with the Woads.
