Chapter Ten: Why don't you all just leave me alone?
The house looked deserted. The knights trotted up to within a safe distance. Lancelot slid off his horse and walked slowly towards the heavy wooden door, one of his swords in hand. Arthur, Tristan and Guinevere followed. The door was ever so slightly ajar. Lancelot pushed it open slowly, sword in his free hand, ready to strike at anything hostile that might be lurking in the shadows. A fire was burning at the opposite end of the large room that he entered, a bed pushed up against the wall near it, a large wooden chair next to it. Lancelot turned round twice in the room, looking for things that might tell him if it was Iseult who was living here. Tristan entered as well, glancing round.
"Well, somebody's living here," he said. Suddenly a shout went up outside. All three ran outside to see what the commotion was.
"Arthur, on the hill," Gawain said, pointing. They all looked up to the ridge of a hill about 300 yards away to see a figure in a heavy hooded cloak clutching something in its hand. It slipped off the hood, and long strands of ash-blonde hair fell around her shoulders and moved in the wind. She dropped whatever she was holding and began to step slowly backwards, disappearing from view.
"Someone, get after her," Arthur said. Galahad acted on the initiative and gave his horse a sharp kick, sending it galloping up the hill after Iseult. Lancelot jumped on his horse and sped after. But there was no need. A few feet away from what she had dropped-a brace of rabbits-on a rock on the other side of the hill sat Iseult, perfectly still and calm. Galahad, arriving before Lancelot, got off his horse and approached her carefully, knowing she wasn't to be trusted. Iseult just stared into the valley beyond them.
"You look…terrible," he said finally, when he was sure she wasn't going to do anything to him. But he had forgotten her acid tongue.
"The Saxon half-breed deserves your pity now, Galahad?" she snapped back. By this time, Lancelot had ridden up and was now sliding down the hill to reach them both. he grabbed Iseult by the shoulders and made some attempt at holding Iseult's gaze, but she refused to.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt? Is everything alright?" he repeated. Iseult showed the barest hint of recognition of Lancelot's concern and stayed silent.
"Iseult?" Lancelot said, now even more worried. "Talk to me." Iseult turned her head to look at him, and Lancelot saw that her eyes were filling with tears.
"Why have you come here, Lancelot?" I thought that we said goodbye. I want to be alone."
"But you're pregnant, Iseult. You can't do this on your own. It's nearly Winter." Iseult smiled and shook her head.
"Well, I won't find out now, will I? I see you brought the rest of the cavalry." She got up. Lancelot and Galahad made to help her, but she shook them off.
"No. I'm not ill; I've managed for the last seven months, and just because you're here doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to rely on you." She turned and walked back up the slope and down the hill. Lancelot swelled with pride at her continued independence, but she still worried him.
Iseult wanted to crawl away. Far, far away into a small dark pit where no-one could find her and she could have this child on her own. She hated all this attention being lavished upon her. She wanted to be equal, live by her own rules, and getting pregnant had ruined that for her. Now she would be treated by the rule, no questions asked. She knew that everyone was watching her every move, checking for pain or possible discomfort. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rail and hit out at Lancelot for being so damned sweet and caring and at Tristan for loving her as well, for spying on her and Lancelot, for knowing that this baby was just as likely to be his as Lancelot's. But she couldn't. There had been no point in running-she ha realised that the moment she saw them all outside her house. All she could do was to wait for the inevitable male worrying. At least Guinevere had a little more common sense…only a little.
When she reached the house, she nodded at the knights in acknowledgement and saw the same worried look on Tristan's face, which amused her no end. He looked so vulnerable without his usual glazed look.
"Hello Arthur," she said jovially. "How are things?" Arthur smiled.
"I'm afraid your family have been causing a little trouble. We managed to leave them at the fort, after some gentle persuasion." Iseult sighed and nodded her head.
"I'm very sorry to disappoint you all, but I am going to do this on my own, whether you like it or not. Sorry." She said the last word with a strong feeling of sarcasm running through it. She moved towards her door.
"You're sure about this?" Iseult turned, shocked. It was Tristan who had spoken. Bors looked at Tristan.
"I've never seen you be interested in pregnant women before, Tristan. They've always been too-"
"-Shut up, Bors," Iseult snapped, and went inside, slamming the door shut behind her.
"-Moody," Bors finished, a look of 'I've seen it all before' etched on his face. Lancelot walked up and knocked on the door.
"Iseult...Iseult? Let someone stay, please. If not me then…Guinevere at least," he finished with some difficulty, not wanting someone else to be with her when he had lost her for seven months already. He wanted to hold her tight and not let go; to protect her from any pain or hurt she might feel. She had suffered too much for him already. She wasn't going to go through what he ha always gathered as torture without him.
After a while, the door opened an inch.
"No, you can stay," Iseult relented. Lancelot gently pushed open the door and walked inside, shutting it behind them both. Bors turned to Arthur.
"Right, better camp, then."
Inside, Iseult turned to Lancelot. He moved forward and held her close to him. She sobbed into his armour; long streams of tears flowing down her cheeks, washing the dust off his chest-plate as all the emotions inside her were given a release. Lancelot hushed her with a soothing voice.
"It's alright now, it's alright. Everything will be fine now; I won't let anything happen to you."
"Oh Lancelot, I'm so scared, I'm so scared!" Iseult wept.
That night, Iseult and Lancelot slept in the house together. She was curled away from him on the bed, head cradled in one of Lancelot's powerful arms. She fell asleep almost instantly, the presence of another body besides hers calming her. Lancelot's other hand was wrapped around Iseult's belly. He buried his face in her long hair and began to hum some indiscernible tune, and as he did so, moving his hand across her stomach, he could feel the baby moving inside of her.