Chapter Eight: Running Away from your Responsibilities

A week later Iseult was allowed to take short walks inside the barracks, aided by the young serving-girl who stayed in her room day and night, apart from the occasional break when one of the knights would guard her room-usually Gawain or Galahad. Iseult dare not move during move or make a sound when they were there; such was the look on their faces. Consequently, hardly anything was said about the current state of affairs in the fort, and certainly nothing about Lancelot. The little information she had gleaned from the girl by some relative force was that he was still in his room, and spent his time in bed. A few days after she had gained the information, Iseult woke to hear part of a hushed conversation the girl was having with Arthur.

"I had to tell her something, my Lord, she was so upset. Do you not think that we should-?"

"No. I don't want her knowing any more about him at the moment. Lancelot is very-" At this they realised that Iseult had woken up, and the conversation ended there.

This just made Iseult more determined to see him, even if he hated her guts, or if he was seriously ill, she had to know. The next week she spent in her bed gave her time to plan how she would visit Lancelot. Her moment came sooner than she expected.

Iseult woke early suddenly one morning, and, a second after the wave of nausea hit her, he threw up into the chamber pot next to her bed. The serving-girl woke with a start at the sound of her retching. When Iseult had emptied her stomach, the serving-girl left her in the large wooden chair and went to fetch clean sheets from the rooms on the other side of the fort. As Iseult sat in the chair, she suddenly realised that none of the knights were going to come. She had heard them singing drinking songs last night. One hour after dawn was too early for any of them to get up, and knowing the girl, she would spend a good half an hour longer gossiping with the other maids. Iseult pulled herself out of her chair and pulled on a pair of light linen trousers that were folded on the back of the chair and slid out of the room, closing the door silently behind her. She looked round, and luckily recognised the corridor immediately. She now had an hour at most to find Lancelot. 2 doors down was Tristan's room. She sneaked a quick look inside. The fireplace, the chairs, even the covers were unmoved since the last morning things had been perfect between them all. She shut the door quickly and moved to the end of the corridor. She turned left after a moments thought, then counted the doors off: One, two, three…fourth door on the right. Her hand paused on the handle and she took in a deep, shuddering breath. Doubts rushed through her mind. She shouldn't be here. If Lancelot started to yell, that would wake the whole fort up and she would be found. She couldn't have that. She was about to turn away when she heard heavy footsteps coming down the corridor towards her. She quickly opened the door and glided inside, shutting the door silently behind her. Her heart beat fast as the footsteps approached…and passed. She breathed out and closed her eyes, leaning against the door, then realised whose room she was in and quickly turned round.

The light in the room was dim, but Iseult could make out the bed and a figure lying underneath layers of sheets, breathing heavily. Iseult moved closer to the bed so she could see him more clearly. He was asleep; he looked so peaceful, his mouth open ever so slightly so that he had the look of a child about him; a child that knew nothing of death or pain or suffering. But he did, Iseult thought to herself with a sigh. She walked right up to the head of the bed and searched his face. Someone in pain would not sleep like that. She was satisfied that he was well- he would live. Her hand reached over and brushed his face lightly, but not lightly enough, it seemed. Lancelot's eyes flickered open and fixed on her, a look of confusion that turned to one of aversion. Iseult snapped her hand back to her side as though she had been burned. They stood, staring at each other for some time until Iseult decided that she shouldn't stay; Lancelot's feelings were the same as the other knights. She began to move backwards, disappearing into the shadows of the room. All of a sudden Lancelot's arm shot out from under the sheets and grabbed Iseult's arm. Iseult gasped, looking at him with shock, wondering what he wanted.

"No," he said softly. "Stay…for a while at least." Iseult looked anxiously at the door behind her for a moment, then sighed and moved round to the other side of the bed and sat down on it. She kept her head lowered, not wanting to look at Lancelot. She listened to Lancelot's breathing-erratic. Perhaps he wasn't as well as she had initially thought. Maybe an arrow did hit its mark after all.

After a time, she spoke to him.

"Do you hate me?" she asked, her voice shaky so that she half-whispered it. Lancelot looked at Iseult's hair flowing over her shoulders, his face stern, but then he looked away and his face changed, the barrier he had put up melting. When he looked back, Iseult was staring straight at him, her face hurt.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I-" He stopped, unable to continue, not knowing what to say to her. Iseult changed the subject. She had had enough of pain the last few months; she didn't want it to carry on now.

"In bed, how embarrassing for you, Lancelot. What did you do?" she asked him. Lancelot, relieved that he didn't have to carry on the conversation, smiled ruefully.

"Nothing significant." Iseult smiled and shook her head.

"No, it wouldn't be, would it?" she said. Lancelot gave in.

"I got hurt a few times by a sword," Lancelot mumbled. Iseult smiled a satisfied smile.

"Told you. That wasn't so bad, now, was it?" She laughed. Lancelot began to laugh to, but then he suddenly became serious and stared at Iseult with a pained look. She stopped mid-laugh and looked at him, worried.

"I thought you'd be dead by now," he said quietly. Iseult looked away and rubbed an eye.

"So did I…"

"Does it hurt?" he asked concernedly. Iseult raised a hand to her stomach and touched the bandaged wound lightly. The stabs of pain had gone, now, but there was still enough there for her to draw in breath. Lancelot started, but he knew better than to comfort her. Warriors both of them- never show your pain.

"It would have hurt you more," she said after a long wait with Lancelot on tenterhooks. "I wouldn't be talking to you now," she said in a matter-of-fact way. Lancelot smiled and let out a small chuckle.

"I haven't heard that for some time," Iseult mused. "You should do it more often, I've missed that." Lancelot nodded and then looked at her seriously.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. Iseult raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Maybe you'd like to see for yourself how the rest the Sarmatians are treating me…like dirt…" She paused and sat back on the bed, then slid off suddenly and reached for the chamber pot by her side and threw up into it. Lancelot blinked. Iseult moaned and then retched again. When she finally sat up again after wiping her mouth with the hem of her shirt, Lancelot was watching her intently.

"When did that start happening?" he enquired. Iseult failed to pick up on his line of thinking.

"This morning. Nothing significant," she added, a wry smile on her face. Lancelot wondered, then thought it best not to say anything. Things would play out themselves in time.

Footsteps again in the corridor outside. When they had gone, Iseult drew herself up and looked at Lancelot.

"I should go." She walked round to the other side of the bed and brushed her hand against Lancelot's cheek.

"When will you come back?" Lancelot asked as Iseult turned from him.

"I…I'm going to leave soon, Lancelot. For good." Lancelot couldn't believe it.

"You're returning to the Iceni with your brother and that shaman, then?" he asked, hurt. Iseult shook her head.

"No, no I don't want to return there. My brother will do just fine without me. If I returned there I…things would be difficult."

"So every time things get difficult, you run away, is that it?" Lancelot asked, getting angry.

"Don't be like this…Goodbye, Lancelot," Iseult said, and walked out of the room, away from him, and her heart began to tear in two.

She snuck back to her room unnoticed and spent the next week thinking about how to get past the girl and the nights. After constantly throwing up over that week, she began to realise what was happening to her. She couldn't believe it. Now Iseult knew she really had to leave. On the first morning of the next week, she woke, up, ready to throw the contents of her stomach into the bowl by the side of her bed, but nothing happened, her stomach was calm. Iseult looked across at the girl. She was fast asleep on her chin, her head resting on her chest, snoring lightly. Iseult slipped out of bed and dressed in warm clothes, wrapping her sword belt round her. She gathered up her things as best she could without disturbing the girl. Luckily there wasn't much. Iseult took one last look at the girl as she opened the door and then she was gone.

Out in the courtyard, Iseult had to use all her cunning to move past the knights, Arthur, Guinevere and especially Jols, who stayed in the stables for so long Iseult wondered if the girl would wake before she had a real chance of escaping. Finally, he was called by Arthur to attend to something else. Iseult took her chance and saddled up one of the black stallions kept near the end of the stable block. He whinnied at first until Iseult's words calmed him. She waited until the courtyard was as clear of anyone who knew her as possible and the gates were clear. She mounted the horse and moved him slowly out of the stables so as not to draw attention to herself. She was crossing the courtyard when she heard a shout. She turned quickly to see Galahad and the serving-girl, now very much awake, running towards her. Iseult turned back and kicked the stallion hard in the gut, sending him jumping forward into a canter, then a gallop as the gates to the fort shut behind them. They carried on along the dirt road, through the battlefield where the Saxons had been 2 months before, and out into the mountains.