Chapter Ten:
Kelleigh stood silently, watching as the knights buried Tristan. Bors, Gawain and Galahad pushed the dirt over the young scout's body, and finally stood up. Arthur stood at the head of the burial mound, looking sadly. Kelleigh's heart was heavy. Tristan had been a brother to her. She'd known him for the last ten years, long enough to get attached and form an emotional bond that exceeded that of any bond between normal friends. She had formed an attachment that exceeded any bond with all the knights. They were her family, and losing one of them hurt. She'd lost two in the last three days alone.
Bors moved back to stand with his bastards and Vanora, and Kelleigh thought she saw tears in his eyes. Most of the children were too young to really grasp the situation around them, but they looked sad all the same. Kelleigh wanted to comfort them, but she herself needed comfort.
Galahad and Gawain stood to Kelleigh's right, and beside them stood Jols. All three wore sombre expressions of great sadness. Much had been lost this day. To Kelleigh's left, stood Lancelot, who leaned heavily upon a wooden stick that Jols had fashioned for him to be able to attend the funeral. Lancelot had insisted on going to the funeral of the fallen scout, no matter how Kelleigh and Arthur protested against it. In the end, Lancelot had worn them both down until they consented to let him stay for the funeral, and then he went back to his quarters to rest. Kelleigh had told him that he was to stay in his room, and that she would bring him food, clothing, and water until he was well again, however long it took. Lancelot seemed sated with the idea that at least some one pretty would see him and not an ugly bastard with no arm.
Kelleigh felt the tears fall from her eyes, and turned toward Lancelot. He understood and took her hand, and pulled her in his arms. No one questioned, no one answered. Tristan would have offered her comfort had it have been Lancelot in that grave.
Arthur looked around at the faces of people he knew, people who'd fought for him, and people who served him, and felt as though he weren't alone in this fight. He looked to his left and saw Guinevere beside him. He looked back at him, sadness marring her features. He took her hand.
Music was playing, and Kelleigh looked around at the people who laughed gaily, knowing that Tristan would have enjoyed this. She smiled sadly, wishing only to escape and be alone with her thoughts. The last three days had been trying on her. Although she'd come away from the battle against the Saxons with only a few scraps and bruises, mentally and emotionally she was still unstable. The Woad healers had fixed her scrapes and bruises, but they couldn't heal her mind. Arthur placed his hand on her shoulder, and Kelleigh looked up at him; a sister adoring her brother.
"This is quite the wake," he said. Kelleigh merely nodded, looking out into the darkness that was the knight's quarters. Arthur sensed her turmoil, and sighed sadly. "Go to him, Kelleigh," he said, motioning away fro the wake with his hand, "Be with him,"
"Thank you, Artorius," Kelleigh replied, and got up to walk away. Arthur caught her arm gently.
"Will you have him?" he asked, looking into her eyes, "Do you love him?" Kelleigh turned to him, her green eyes, so much like his, shining, her chin up defiantly.
"I'll have him, if he'll have me," Kelleigh said, squaring her shoulders, "And yes, I love him, more than anything in this world," and with her words in the air, she turned away, walking rapidly toward the knight's quarters.
Lancelot stood at the window, watching Kelleigh and Arthur as they talked. He watched as she set her chin defiantly, and said something before turning away from him and coming toward the knight's quarters. He sighed heavily. His wound made him feel like he was invalid, like was less then what he was. He walked away from the window, shuffling heavily, and sat on his bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again, wishing he could be at the wake, wishing that he could do something to cure the boredom that had fallen over him the last few days.
Kelleigh walked down the dark corridors silently, carefully picking her way around the various objects that littered the path. She didn't have to look for Lancelot's door, for it was imprinted into her memory, a lasting impression, as it were. She stopped a minute, and looked at the door. She was giving her life in Britain up for this man. She was going to leave with him, leave all she'd ever known behind for him. She felt as though the weight of the world had bee lifted off her shoulders. Sighing, Kelleigh leaned against the wall, breathing deeply before she went inside the room.
She found Lancelot on his bed, but whether he was sleeping or just resting, she couldn't tell. The room was warmed by the fire that was in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the walls. Kelleigh crept closer to the bed and leaned over Lancelot's body. He was breathing evenly, so she assumed he was asleep, until he opened his eyes. "Lancelot…" His name barely escaped her lips before he grabbed her and brought her down upon him in the most suggestive manner. She laughed softly when she looked down at her position straddling his hips.
"I'm jealous of all who are in your presence," Lancelot said, smiling sheepishly, "It's one less moment I have with you," Kelleigh looked at him, feeling like she was the only one that he'd love for the rest of his life.
"You'll have me forever, Lancelot," Kelleigh told him, moving so that she sat beside him on the bed. Lancelot took her hand in his and lay back, breathing deep.
"Will I? Forever is a very long time," he said. Kelleigh nodded, smiling softly.
"Forever is indeed a very long time, my love," she pulled her hand away and moved the shoulder of his tunic away from his wound, "You've been up again," she stated, looking at the blood that stained the bandages and knowing that he'd been watching the wake from the window.
"What am I to do? You're off enjoying the pleasures of life, while I wile away in tedium," Kelleigh got off the bed and went across the room to fetch bandages and fresh water to clean away his old dressing. She sighed; she could be doing this forever, tending wounds for her lover, and she'd be content. She'd be happy to be with him forever, but would she be happy in Sarmatia? Would she be able to forget her makeshift family, and live with someone she didn't know? "Kelleigh?" Lancelot's voice reached her from across the room.
"Yes," she replied, "I'm coming," Kelleigh poured water in a large bowl and took three strips of linen cloth, along with a rag. She made her way to the bed carefully, so as not to spill the water all over the floor. Lancelot smiled up at her. "Sit up," she ordered, setting the bowl and linen's on the floor. Lancelot obeyed her command and sat up, removing his tunic. Kelleigh blushed when she saw the wide expanse of his naked chest. Lancelot smiled roguishly.
"Blushing? For me?" he asked, with a laugh. Kelleigh looked at him. He looked back at her, confused. "What?"
"Knife," she stated, holding out her hand expectantly. Lancelot laughed, and pointed to the floor beside the bed. Kelleigh retrieved the knife and held it in her hand, intending to cute the dressings off Lancelot's wound.
Lancelot trusted her. He knew that she'd never hurt him. I love her, he thought, more than life itself. I'd give my life to make her the happiest woman in all the world. He watched as her brow furrowed while she gently cut the bandages away from his shoulder. The knife cut away the cloth, revealing a fresh wound, still in need of healing medicines. Lancelot would let none but her touch his wound. He watched as deft fingers removed the cloth that clung to the wound in small fibres.
Kelleigh bent to set the knife on the floor and dip the linen rang in the clean water. She brought it back up and touched it to the wound. Lancelot hissed. It stung, no matter how hard she tried to stop it. "I'm sorry," She whispered, blotting the cloth gently.
"It's all right," Lancelot said through clenched teeth. Once she was done with the cloth, she bent to grab the linen strips. Lancelot watched her hands as they barely touched his flesh while bandaging the wound carefully. Once the wound was cleaned, Lancelot patted the bed beside him, motioning her to sit beside him. "Come, we must talk," he added when she just stood in front of him, staring.
"When are we leaving?" she asked, coming to sit beside him. Lancelot sighed. He'd been denied the freedom of ever seeing Sarmatia for fifteen years. His mind said that he wanted to go home, back to Sarmatia, to risk everything he'd achieved in an attempt to see his family again, but Kelleigh bound him to this land. She belonged to the land, and wherever she was, he was home.
"Do you want to leave?" Lancelot asked, realizing for the first time that he was home, truly home. "This is your home, I can't ask you to give that up for me," Kelleigh looked at him.
"I've already decided. I love you; I want to be with you, forever. If that means going to Sarmatia, so be it," Lancelot took her hands in his.
"If you truly want to go to Sarmatia, we'll go," he said, stroking her cheek with his fingers, "I'll take you there. But, if you want to stay on this island, I'll stay as well," Lancelot looked into her eyes. "Wherever you are, that's my home. Britain, Sarmatia, Rome, the forest, that's home to me if you're there,"
Kelleigh stared at him, thinking how much she truly loved him. He was willing to sacrifice for her. He told her that she was his home. "Lancelot…"
"Don't worry about seeing my family," he said, "It's been fifteen years, everyone could have moved the camp, they could have been killed. You are my home now, Kelleigh. You,"
"You are my home Lancelot," Kelleigh whispered back, "Wherever you are, I am truly home," He smiled, and brushed away the tear that fell down her cheek.
"Home," he said, and pulled her into his arms, holding her close, embracing his newly found home.