KnightMaiden: Haha, I actually thought about pairing her up with Tristan, but on the other hand, I began to wonder if they wouldn't kill each other first. Lol, guess we'll just have to wait and see. :)
Daydream1: Thanks so much for reviewing! For my part, I have always pitied blind people (I happen to personally know a lot of people with eye/vision problems), so I thought it would be kinda neat to write from the pov of a character who doesn't want anyone's pity. :)
Author's Note: Btw, please forgive me…I can be somewhat sporadic about updating—mainly because I have another big project underway at fictionpress as well as a couple other smaller stories on that website. :) If you are interested, I have provided the direct link to "The Last King" on my profile page…you King Arthur fans might see where the "Tarians" in that story are clearly based off the knights in "King Arthur". :)
Chapter Two
If the village was quiet when I left it, it was even quieter when I returned. I imagined I could feel the dishonesty emitting from the people—my people—like a stench, and it disgusted me. How could they have lied to me? Taking advantage of my blindness was not the way to win my trust. I refused to glance their way as I led the strangers past them.
"Sure is cheerful," one of the riders remarked.
I stiffened, but had to acknowledge the truth of the remark. The villagers were deathly still as the horses plodded up the path to my father's hut. I could scent the dust rising under the shuffling hooves and realized it had not rained for some time. I knew it was a cloudy day, but I couldn't sense any moisture in the air. Pity.
I heard my father and eldest brother emerge from the tent as we halted in front of it. The man leading the riders didn't dismount, but rather positioned his horse so he could easily read their faces. I knew my father would be suspicious of them—any stranger that had yet dared question his clan affairs had gone with no less than a scathing round of verbal abuse. My father was a proud man—proud of his people, proud of his sons, proud of his rule. I had yet to fathom why he was proud of me. Perhaps it was because of my fierce fighting spirit. Cadfael used to say it encompassed everything our people lived and survived for.
I stopped. I hadn't thought of Cadfael in a long time. It still hurt in a strange way to think of him, and the way he'd left like he did. I had been angry with him at first, yes, but I never blamed him directly for my blindness. Even in my heart.
"I am Arthur Castus," the leader was saying, matter-a-factly, like he'd said it a million times before. I guessed he probably had. "And these are the Sarmatian knights."
I stiffened, wishing desperately—suddenly—that I could see again. Just for a moment!
I remembered the knights I'd seen before. Two years ago. I could still envision each of their faces plainly. Even when everything else grew dim and blurred in my memory.
"So?" My father said. I could imagine him squinting up at Arthur and I had to smother a smile. That sounded like my father. Or myself for that matter.
"My scout tells me your village was recently attacked by a large band of woads."
My father said nothing, but I could sense him glancing my way. He purposefully had kept this information from me. I retained my stoic expression.
But I guess he must've nodded, because Arthur pressed for more information.
"You are their fellow Britons. Why would they attack you?"
Again, I could sense my father was reluctant to divulge information. It suddenly came clearly to me, though. The reason for my father's secrets, his stubborn silence.
"Because the people have not sided with them against Rome," I said aloud, my voice taking on strength as I continued. "Because we could not reach a negotiation."
I sensed the Arthur and his knights turn in their saddles to look at me.
"You are sure of this?" I sensed the surprise in Arthur's voice.
"Skye," My father spoke up firmly. "Where is your flock?"
"Marion is guarding them," I said stubbornly—hotly. I lifted my chin, bold with anger. "Too bad he cannot watch the village at the same time. At least HE would TELL me if there was an imminent threat."
My father replied with the same heat I had displayed, but I could tell he was already beaten by my words.
"I am only trying to protect you, Skye."
"Why? Because I am your daughter? Because I'm a woman?" I leaned forward. "Because I'm Welsh?"
"Enough!" My father thundered. Niwliog's head jerked up. When he spoke in that voice, the very ground seemed to shake.
I tossed my head and snorted. "Don't pretend you are ashamed of my mother's heritage. YOU married her, not I."
My father lowered his voice. "Skye…"
"Why is she blind?" Arthur voice startled us both.
"How do you mean?" My father asked, his tone defensive.
"She wasn't always blind," a quiet, heavily accented voice spoke up near me.
"How did she become blind?" asked another knight.
They were talking about me. The voices were confusing, so I didn't realize that everyone was looking at me for an answer.
"Skye?"
"It was an accident," I mumbled, lowering my eyes slightly.
"Have you never tried medicine?" Arthur must have been speaking to my father, but I replied before he could say a word.
"Medicine?" I said scornfully. "Oh but of course. I've had a voo-doo woman look at me. She put lots of stinging herbs—poultices of a nasty type—on my eyes. It only made my vision worse. I no longer trust. Not doctors. Not anyone."
I added the last pointedly and was about to whirl Niwliog when Arthur's words stopped me dead in my tracks.
"I think I know a physician who could cure her."