"Hi…" he said as he looked down at her. "Do you mind?"
"No please, sit." Smiled Briseis 'how is he sitting here? Near me? WHY? Oh stop asking and make this night worth while you ninny!' Lancelot took this opportunity to initiate conversation.
"So Vanora tells me you're a friend of Katrina's, come to visit have you?"
"Yes. As a matter of fact I have." Briseis said easily as she sipped on her water.
"Do tell me how you and Katrina are friends. I have known Katrina all her life and have never seen her leave Hadrian's Wall. How is it that she knows a lady such as you? A lady visiting from…where exactly did you say you were from?"
Briseis coughed a bit on her water when the conversation took this turn. 'This subject must be tread on with care.' She reminded her self. "I haven't. Haven't said where I hailed from."
She smiled a nervous smile but pressed on nonetheless. "I'm from the north, from the Temple of Hermes."
Lancelot backed away for a moment. "A priestess." Briseis quickly shook her head in disagreement.
"No I am no priestess; simply an orphan taken in at a young age. I wished not to become a priestess yet I was allowed to stay there, be educated, work for my living."
Lancelot smiled. A look of relief fluttered across his face but was there but a moment before fleeting. Briseis however did not miss it.
"Pardon me Sir Lancelot but you looked relieved to hear that I was not a priestess of Hermes. Do my eyes cheat me?" he laughed a hearty rumble and looked down in embarrassment. Briseis smiled and studied him while he looked down at his hands. When he brought his face up to meet hers there was a look if mirth dancing in his eyes.
"Do pray tell what amuses you so?"
"Oh nothing in particular, I am simply enjoying the company." Yet something changed at that moment. "How is it that you know my name? I have not mentioned it."
Briseis did not falter. "I have been warned about you my good sir. Warned by a trusty friend who has enlightened me of your ways with women." The wind seemed to be sucked out of Lancelot's sails.
"It may be true yet if I were you I would not be so quick to judge. You are no priestess and I no saint. The night is still young and…"
"Good sir is this your idea of propositioning me? For if it is, I dare say it shall not work. The night may be young but I am not young in your ways of enjoyment." At this Lancelot was grinning haughtily. "Wipe that smug grin off your arrogant face."
"Lady I have yet to know your name?" this was true, she had not told him her name yet.
"Briseis."
"Briseis, to get back to my first question, how is it that you know Katrina?"
She smiled at his persistence, "I visited Hadrian's Wall as a young girl with my parents. I was no more than 13 and I had gotten separated from my mother. I was wandering around a back street when this group of boys started to harass me. It was Katrina who helped me; we've become friends ever since. I had not the chance to visit with her in many years."
Lancelot was sitting pensively listening to her relate her story of their friendship. Katrina had never mentioned Briseis to him, although Katrina had never been as close to him as she had to Dagonet. Perhaps he would talk to him after and see if he had even known of Briseis and Katrina's friendship.
Although Briseis had never been to Hadrian's Wall at a young age and although she had never known her mother or father, Briseis had been taken there by a woman in the Woad village where she lived. And she had been the one surrounded by the threatening boys. But it was not her who was in danger, it was Katrina, and it was her who had been the rescuer.
"That's interesting. I had never found Katrina to be the rescuing type. She has never been a descent fighter. But she does have a mouth on her that could make any sharp blade appear dull." Lancelot sat back in his chair and studied Briseis.
"Well perhaps no one here is a descent teacher for I remember her to be someone who could hold her own." He raised an eyebrow at her accusation.
"And can you fight?" he asked mockingly.
"But of course. The Priestess' have educated me, and not just in books and healing but in the art of swordsmanship and archery."
"Well I should like to see a little demonstration of your skills. So I could determine the level of your abilities, that is if you don't mind."
She smiled and again he felt his heart skip a beat. "But of course. I would thoroughly enjoy it. What should you have me do?" he looked around the room as if thinking for some activity and then his eyes glowed with light. She noticed this glow and followed his gaze. In the corner sat Gawain and Galahad throwing knives, a long time ritual that the two had loved to partake in. "Ah, so I shall be throwing knives?"
"That is, but only if you can handle it."
"Pish! Stand aside." She stood and her dark black cloak draped down her back cascading to the floor. Her slender frame lithely glided from the table and across the room to where the two friends stood.
"Evening boys!" she stated cheerfully. They looked dumb struck standing in the presence of such a beauty. Briseis merely laughed and grabbed a dagger. "Ok Lancelot, tell me what you want me to do."
He nudged Gawain to start the game. Gawain flipped his dagger so that he was holding it by the point and then took aim at one of the beams holding up the tavern. The dagger rotated through the air flipping point over hilt until it stuck square into the middle. Everyone cheered including Briseis seeing as how it was a difficult shot from the distance he was standing at. Next was Galahads turn. He too took aim, a little quicker than Gawain, and then let the blade loose. It landed perfectly straight next to the first blade. The room erupted in cheers as each brother in arms clapped the other on the back. As the room died down Lancelot clapped his hand onto Briseis' shoulder.
"Your turn love." He whispered into her ear. Briseis gave him a sideways glance before she shrugged off his hand from her shoulder.
"I can do better that that." She stated.
"Oh yea! Well let's see." boasted Galahad.
She took one of the blades resting on the chair and flipped it in her hand once or twice. After twirling it around a few times she glanced over into Lancelot's direction and then back at the two blades already stuck into the post. Her dagger slipped from her lithe hand with grace and ease and embedded itself into the hilt of the first blade. The room fell silent and Briseis smiled inwardly.
"Well I'll be damned! That was bloody amazing." erupted Bors.
"How did you do that?" asked Gawain.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him, "I aim for the middle."
"That's what Tristan says!" shouted many other people in the room.
"Well, are you satisfied dear sir?" Everyone continued to laugh so Lancelot had to lean close to Briseis to make sure she heard him.
"You've more than satisfied me Briseis. In fact I have never meet anyone like you before. You intrigue me yet confuse me. I don't know if I want to get to know you more or forget all about your mysterious self."
She smiled as if taking this as a compliment. "Well have no fear Sir Lancelot. I shall be gone by tonight." Briseis said this last part with a hint of sadness in her lovely voice. This time Lancelot picked up on her sadness.
"Shall we step outside?" she lifted her head up and looked at his handsome face.
"I would like that." Together they exited they side door of the tavern into the evening rain. She looked him over in the darkness and caught sight of his wrapped up arm. A piece of his fresh was visible and Briseis took this moment to comment on it.
"That wound looks angry." Lancelot laughed and looked down at his injury.
"It's not as bad as it looks. Should be fully healed in a weeks time."
A shiver ran through her and she hugged herself. The rain was not what caused the shiver, on the contrary it was a warm night out and had she been back in the stables she would have gone for a midnight swim. At this thought Briseis looked over at Lancelot and then stepped forward into the steady downpour abandoning the shelter of the overhang. Seeing the strands of hair falling over her eyes stopped Lancelot and stole his breath. This woman, who ever she was, captivated him. His eyes drifted down to her lips that were now moist from the rain. He hung on her lips and for once her forgot about the sorrow his life was filled with. He abandoned all thought of death and war. The rain began to fall angry on the tin room but she only spread her arms towards the sky in a welcoming embrace. A laugh escaped from her chest and Lancelot could not help but smile too. She looked at him and then held her hand out to his. He took her delicate fingers and encompassed them with his large and calloused hands. He held her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm, then closed her fingers around the place he had just marked. She looked at him in awe and then looked away.
"Have I offended you?" he asked with concern dripping in his every word.
"No it's just that…" she bit her lower lip and looked away slowly letting her hand slip from his grasp.
"I must go." Briseis had now pulled the hood up and over her head. She started to walk away when Lancelot reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She halted but did not turn around; she simply inclined her head to let him know she was listening.
"Will I ever see you again?" Briseis allowed her profile to show and Lancelot caught a smirk appear on her lips.
"Perhaps someday we shall meet again Sir Lancelot." She turned around completely and looked up at him through her long eyelashes that were now heavy from the rain.
"Until then…" she whispered and then leaned in for a kiss.
Her smell of lavender invaded his senses with all the force of a Saxon army. And this kiss, this was no goodbye kiss, but a kiss of hope. It was light and gentle, full of passion, seduction, but most of all, the promise of return. Briseis pulled away and let her hand trail down the length of his arm. Lancelot growled low and in the back of his throat.
"You have no idea what you have done to me." he stated.
"Oh I have some idea," she threw at him, "for I feel it too. Good night sir."
This time Briseis turned around and left into the shadows. Lancelot remained outside and brought his hand to touch his lips. A smile fleeted across his face. 'If one of her kisses could do this to you imagine what caressing, holding, touching, feeling, or making love would be like.' At this though Lancelot felt a deep shiver run through his spine. This girl made him want to do things that he never felt before. His brown haired beauty with big dark eyes. He again laughed to him self. Since when did she become 'his'? Lancelot looked up into the rain and decided that it was time to sleep. This night had been like a dream and perhaps it had only been a dream. Either way Lancelot would forever remember Briseis and her kiss that left him riddled in flame.