Chapter Seven

"Merlin! What madness is this?" Ina hissed quietly, stalking up to the aging man and pointing at Lucca. "My husband?" She said through clenched teeth.

Merlin gazed at her levelly, and said something quietly over her shoulder to Lucca. The blonde woad moved silently away, a scowl on his face.

"Yes."

Ina was stunned. It was too early for this, she thought, clutching at her head, and running a hand through her hair. It was getting long again, she noticed, it was about time for another cut...

"He cannot be my husband. I did not assent to marrying him." She said logically, crossing her arms in front of her to keep from fidgeting.

"You brought the stallion to be sacrificed, did you not? You willingly accepted my wishes to capture the stallion, did you not?" Asked Merlin calmly.

Ina was horrified; he had tricked her. She gaped at him and felt a scream clawing its way up the back of her throat. "I...I did not know what I was doing. I would not have willingly brought that animal to its death...nor ever willingly bound myself to that great Saxon of a man. You tricked me." She said flatly.

Merlin smiled. "I admit, I did deceive you. But, did you not also keep something from me as well?"

She knew what he meant. Tristran. She scowled at him, "You are not my keeper, old man. I do not have to tell you anything, albeit everything."

"Ahhh... you confess it. You did keep something from me." He said softly, with an edge of power.

Ina shivered as she pictured a large serpent before her...coiled softly, poised to strike, and staring at her out of calm gold-brown eyes.

"I kept nothing from you." She said, but her confidence was wavering. The snake would soon have her within its coils.

"You lie. You knew whose horse you would steal, and you went willingly, praying for an encounter. You knew that it was no scout's horse...But the mount of a Knight. A very important knight in your eyes..."

It was only years of trained custom that kept her from leaping upon him, and striking him to the ground. She dropped her arms to her sides instead, and flinched as her nails bit into her fisted palms. She shook her head in quiet fury and kept silent.

Merlin seemed pleased. Perhaps he thought he was finally bending her to his will. But obviously, she had been short slighting the man since she had met him, so she could only think that he knew how she really felt, and was only biding his time.

"Therefore, you are married to Lucca. You performed your required services willingly, and are rightfully his. You shall pack your things within the hour, and move yourself where he bids you move." Merlin said, a bit smugly.

Hate and rage boiled within her breast. Merlin had done this to her. Had made sure she would not be rescued. Had doomed her to this fate.

And someday, she vowed, he would pay for it...

But today, Ina bent her head and turned away. If she was a bride, she was a mighty poor one. With the large gash across her cheek, and her bloody nose and filthy skin. But why should she care? She did not willingly want to marry Lucca, nor would she.

Suddenly she made the decision to leave. It was time she left. PAST time, Ina told herself. And Merlin's orders to pack her things made what she was about to do look perfectly normal.

She smiled to herself, and realized that she was not defeated. She still had a choice. But then her logic caught up with her, and she realized that even when she did leave, she had nowhere to go. No one to turn to.

She thought of going back to the Knights. Then reconsidered the thought, and stomped on it. They would kill her. Or, Tristran would. In a matter of seconds, she thought grimly, he would see the guilt written on her forehead in his stallion's blood, and there would be no need for petty trials. She would be dead.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes, and she squinted into the sky, pretending the sun made her cry, before swiping a hand angrily across her lids and stomping back towards her shambles of a home. The sun had sufficiently blinded her she realized, as she stooped to enter her little hut, and her eyes tried vainly to adjust.

Her heart nearly jumped from beneath her ribs as she took in the burly shape of the man within, and his arm snaked out to grab her. His hand across her mouth silenced her scream before it touched the air, and light flared in her vision as he struck a heavy handed blow across the back of the head. She dropped into his arms, limp and quiet without further struggle.

OOO

Tristran's mood was foul. He lashed out at those who came near and spent the hours they had been in the Inn, drinking and carving into the wood nearest him with one of his many daggers. Galahad sat near, and cast a wary eye on him as he slashed and cut into the rim of the bar.

He wanted desperately to stop him, reach over and take the knife from his hand, but he had a feeling that if he did so, it would be he who lost something...Probably his own hand, or at least a couple of fingers.

So he just sighed and turned his attention elsewhere. Allowing it to come to rest on Gawain, who was brawling quite loudly with the seeming husband of the woman to his left. She was a wanton creature, with a tight bodice and a low tunic. And she watched the fight with a smile.

Galahad shouted encouragement and Gawain answered with what could be none other that a muted bellow for help as he tried to unpin himself from beneath his opponent's bulk. Galahad laughed, and happily joined the fray.

Lancelot slid smoothly into the seat he had just abandoned, and stared at Tristran through ale-brightened eyes.

"So...who took your bloody horse, hmm? I know you know who..." He paused as he fished for the right words, "took it. Now, come, tell me. I've had enough of your . . . secrets." He slurred with a smile on his face.

Tristran's eyes flashed angrily at the other knight and he contemplated the urge to push Lancelot off of his stool, but thought better of it and kept still and silent. He drained the remainder of ale from his mug instead.

Lancelot placed a hand amiably on his fellow's shoulder and said again, "Come on, brother! Just tell me already! It...it cannot be that horrible...righ'?"

Tristran jerked his shoulder away. "No." He said simply.

"Ahhh...is that a 'no' you DON'T know who took the beast, or 'NO' you won't tell me?"

Tristran pulled his lips back in grimace and swallowed angry words. Even smashingly drunk, Lancelot was still surprisingly quick witted. Tristran shrugged, and forced a smile. "I am not so sure myself, Lancelot. If you are so clever, why don't you tell me?"

Lancelot's eyes brightened the more, and his grin turned sly. "It was her? Wasn't it?" He said slowly, reaching to take hold of Tristran's shoulder once more.

Tristran's heart lurched as he stared at the fiendish eyes of his fellow. His tongue felt thick and coated, and he couldn't force his throat to expel the words he so desperately needed to say. Lancelot took his silence for approval nonetheless, and continued.

"It was her...That shorthaired wench from the last village. She wouldn't have any of us..." He licked his lips, "She practically laid Gawain flat when he touched her... Though I'd bet my life she knew who we were. I saw her leave...I followed her...out..." Lancelot's smile was touched with more than a little malice by now, as he still continued to babble.

But he spoke truth, and Tristran couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't force himself to tell him to quiet. His mouth felt drier, and his hand clenched around the hilt of his dagger.

Lancelot laughed, "I saw you chase after her through those woods...Your wolf to her deer...I wonder...did you ever catch her?"

And then Tristran just could help himself. He dropped his dagger, and swung at Lancelot with all of his strength behind the blow.

OOO

Woot. Review if you feel up to it.

PLK