Chapter Five: Decisions
Adara jumped up with a start as the door to her room burst open. A tall man, not a knight but a Roman soldier, strode in. he gave Adara no time to cry out, before grabbing her arm roughly and dragging her out of the room.
Adara cried out in pain at the vice-like grip on her arm, but could not pull away from him, for she was fighting for her balance as he towed her along behind him. Eventually they stopped in front of an oak door, and this was thrown open by another Roman soldier.
Adara pulled herself free of her captor, and stalked into the room, trying her best to preserve the remains of her tattered pride. In front of her was a circular table, the knights sitting around it.
Arthur stood as she entered, but it was not out of courtesy. Adara eyed him warily, trying her best to remain calm, although her whole being was crying out in fear.
In two short steps he reached her, and before she realised what he was doing, he had pulled the sleeve of her left arm up, revealing the brand.
"And you do not know anything?" he asked in a mocking voice.
Adara did not reply.
"Now you have a choice. You talk, or you suffer."
Adara did not reply.
"Who is the spy your people planted in the garrison?"
Adara did not reply, although she was sure her heart was beating so loudly that they would realise how afraid she was. So this is what they wanted to know! But that only made it worse, for not only did Adara know the spy, but he was her brother.
Not that there was any love lost between her and her brother, but she would not wish the fate these grim knights no doubt had in store for him, upon her worst enemy.
Arthur took her chin with one hand and roughly thrust it upwards so she had to look into his eyes.
"Tell me," he said, in a dangerous voice.
Adara remained silent, staring at him defiantly. Arthur finally let go of her in disgust.
"This does mean we'll have to turn you over to the Romans. I don't know precisely how they plan on making you talk, but I'm sure you've got an active enough imagination."
"Don't want to bloody your own hands?" When Adara finally spoke her voice was full of scorn.
"Don't tempt me," a wild-looking knight with tattoos on his cheeks and long dark hair growled at her.
Adara looked contemptuously at the knights, though it was only to stem the growing fear inside herself. This was it; this was the point of no return. She could sacrifice her pride for her life, or she could suffer, and die good death.
"Make your choice," Arthur said.
She chose to keep her pride.