ALMOST HAD IT ALL
Hey guys! This update is actually sooner than you might think. I updated a week ago, adding the chapter The Estate, but it never showed up as being updated. So if you haven't read that chapter yet, please do so before you read this one.
Chapter Eight – Confrontation on the Ice
In this time are we loving
or do we sit here wondering
why this world isn't turning around
It's now or never
We have no use
for the truth
and now's the time for us to lose
who we are and how we've tried
taking every step in stride
it now or never to decide
In this time are we loving
or do we sit here wondering
why this world isn't turning around
It's now or never
In this way are we learning
or do we sit here yearning
for this world to stop turning around
it's now or never
Where's the truth
for us to use
cause all we seem to do is lose
who we are and how we've tried
are we all the same inside
it's now or never to decide
In this time are we loving
or do we sit here wondering
why this world isn't turning around
It's now or never
In this way are we learning
or do we sit here yearning
for this world to stop turning around
It's now or never
In this time are we loving
or do we sit here wondering
why this world isn't turning around
It's now or never
In this way are we learning
or do we sit here yearning
for this world to stop turning around
It's now or never
In this time are we loving
Wondering
isn't turning around
It's now or never
"Now or Never" Three Days Grace
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470 A.D.
North of Hadrian's Wall…
Arthur watched her walk away in disbelief.
Aylin tried to shrug off the fear she'd seen in Dominic, who had watched her with wide eyes.
She had seen the look in many an adversaries' face, but never in a child. Aylin had never made it a habit to go around scaring children. Those that she had been around previously--which, mind you, was not an astounding number--had watched her with awe if they had known who she was, or with curiosity if they hadn't.
After a moment, Arthur sighed and gave an order for the remaining monks to be walled up in the prison they had made for others.
Apparently, he felt as enraged about their findings as Aylin. The knights moved toward the village while the serfs who had been watching either fanned out to gather what little belongings they had, or herded the cowering monks into the stone building. Arthur moved to stand in front of Aylin, mere inches between them and said in a low voice,
"We will discuss this later."
The tone left no room for argument, so Aylin merely nodded. Arthur sidestepped her to walk closer to the serf village to oversee the evacuation.
Turning around, Aylin went to Artay. But before she could reach the stallion, Tristan grabbed her arm, pulling her up short. She quickly spun around and grabbed his wrist in an iron grip, subjecting him to the blue flame of her eyes.
It didn't faze him in the slightest. His gray eyes were hard and unyielding.
"Let go of my arm," Aylin growled through clenched teeth.
Instead of answering her, Tristan pulled her along after him to the side of the prison hidden from the eyes of others. Once he had reached where the prison and the compound wall met, he shoved Aylin into the corner, placing one hand on the prison wall and the other on the compound wall, effectively blocking her escape.
"What was that about?" He asked in a tone that said he would hear nothing but the truth.
Since she didn't want to explain her actions, Aylin remained quiet, though silently cursing him in her head.
Tristan scoffed at her silence. "I don't care that you killed him, Aylin. But I do want to know why."
"It is not your concern," Aylin replied, seething.
"Damn it woman! Tell me the truth!" Tristan growled, pounding his fists into the walls. "Just tell me," he finished in a softer voice, hoping the others hadn't heard him.
"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time. I said, 'It is not your concern!' There, I pronounced each word clearly so you better damn well listen! It's my problem, so you can keep out of it."
"Who is the boy, Aylin? I can see in your eyes that you know him," he asked softly.
She looked into his face and saw his determination. With a sigh, she did something she hadn't done in a long time. She told him her secret.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The traveling was painfully slow at best.
Aylin didn't feel like counting the number of wagons bearing the things of Marius and his family, who at the moment were bundled cozily in their covered carriage.
"While the rest of us walk and ride through the freezing rain and snow and winds," she thought.
Even the sick and injured had no reprieve from the elements. Dominic, Guinevere and Lucan—who had identified themselves earlier--were in an open wagon with only the sheerest of cloths covering the sides. Though, she was more concerned about the children than she was the woman—the woad.
Aylin couldn't bring herself to trust the Briton; she'd seen the conspiratorial glances she sent both Arthur and Lancelot.
But the waste disgusted her. Here were the sick, lying on a rough wagon floor with only minimal coverage, while the greedy Romans stockpiled the furs and blankets. So she rode among the groups of serfs that walked ahead of the wagons. That way, if she didn't see the object of her hatred, she could put them from her mind.
As the caravan trudged on, Aylin watched a pair of small children walk ahead of her.
Siblings, she assumed, a girl about nine years of age and a boy several years younger. The sister valiantly tried to keep walking, her little brother's hand tightly clasped in her own, but her exhaustion was evident. Even as Aylin thought it, the young girl sank to the ground, almost hidden in the snow with her brother sobbing and pulling at her to get up. No one around them seemed to notice the two, so when Aylin rode up even with them, she dismounted and kneeled next to them.
"She'll be alright," she whispered softly to the boy, picking the girl up and settling her on the saddle.
Reaching back down, she did the same for the boy, setting him behind his sister, who had slumped forward to lean on Artay's neck. The boy soon leaned forward as well, resting his small head on his sister's back.
Aylin smiled at the pair while removing her heavy cloak, which, though wet on the outside, was quite warm inside, and draping it about the brother and sister. Taking Artay's reins, she led the stallion on.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
From her position on the rock, Aylin could see the Woad Guinevere speaking with Lancelot. Rolling her eyes at the dark knight's flirtations, Aylin continued to watch as Guinevere moved through the camp and caught Arthur's attentions, the commander following her deeper into the woods.
"What are you up to, Woad? What's your plan?" She muttered under her breath.
She stayed where she was for a while longer, her seat offering her a view of the wagon. She hadn't spoken to Fulcinia since they'd left the Estate, but Aylin knew that she needed to. She'd tried her best to avoid meeting Dominic's gaze, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She needed to ask the woman how much he knew.
Several minutes had passed when Tristan stepped up to the rock.
They looked at each other for a number of seconds. Then he spoke quietly,
"Arthur wishes to speak with you."
Nodding, she stood and together, they walked to the clearing where the knights sat around a fire. Arthur gestured to a place near him.
"Have a seat, Aylin. It's time I got some answers."
Silently, Aylin sat with her back against a tree, facing Arthur.
Several moments passed. Arthur gave an irritated sigh.
"Well?"
" 'Well' what?"
"Aylin." Arthur ground out.
"I don't know how you expect me to give you answers when you've yet to ask the questions," she replied. She wasn't going to make it easy.
"Word games. Fine. Why did you nearly decapitate that monk this morning?"
With a quick glance at Tristan, she answered steadily, "He deserved it."
Arthur stared. "He just 'deserved it'? That's it?"
"It takes a person lacking a heart to torture a living thing. It takes a person lacking a soul to torture a child. But the Romans seem to have found their niche. I've seen too much of it in my life, so I decided to deal with it in my own way."
With another sigh, Arthur said, "While I can't lecture you on killing him, since I essentially did the same to the others, I will say that you should not place the Roman people under the shadow of the actions of few. Since you lived in Rome, you know as well as I that there are those who believe in all being-"
"Equal."
"Precisely."
"Well, let me tell you Arthur, you are a great soldier and one of the best leaders I've seen, and trust me, I've seen quite a few, but you are one of the most naïve men I have ever met."
She continued when he narrowed his eyes, "I don't know as well as you because 'I've lived in Rome', I know better. When were you last in Rome, Arthur? 15 years, maybe? A lot can change in that amount of time. Yes, there are those who wish for equality, but it is a wish not voiced. No one dares to speak of such "blasphemy" as your church puts it.
"In the eyes of Rome, some are born to be masters, and others are born to be slaves. Isn't that how this whole 'Sarmatian Knight' thing started! Your country slaughtered our people," Aylin stated, standing and swiping her hand in the direction of the other knights, "and they thought that because of that, we were no better than slaves! That is still how we are looked upon!"
"It is not an unspoken wish! I know, because Pelagius, a dear friend, is there teaching the idea of equality now!"
Aylin let out a bitter laugh, which was a touch hoarse from her raw throat.
"Oh, come on Arthur! This is what I mean by naïve! Pelagius has been dead for a year! They had him murdered because he was so outspoken."
When she realized what she had said, Aylin closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands.
"Arthur…" she began softly.
"Who are they? You said they," he asked.
"Germanus, Crassus and other officials."
Arthur stood before them, with a look that clearly showed how lost he felt at this news.
Aylin walked to stand before him and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"I am sorry for the loss of your friend. Pelagius was a good man." She added when Arthur looked at her in question, "If it is any consolation…many agreed with his teachings, but…once he was killed, they lost their hope and courage. You have his same belief structure. You can teach those around you."
With a pat on his shoulder, Aylin continued walking away from the fire to find a tree to sleep against near the perimeter.
Before she could get too far, a pair of blue eyes drew her attention. Standing behind a tree just a few feet from the fire was Dominic, who, every so often, would poke his head out to see what was going on.
"What are you doing there?" Aylin's question turned the attention of the others to the boy.
Looking about at the faces watching him, Dominic hesitantly abandoned his hiding place.
"Boy, you should be asleep," Dagonet called out.
Dominic didn't move, but kept staring at Aylin, which, aggravatingly, was making her nervous.
An even more nerve-wracking action was Dominic stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Aylin's waist, while whispering, "Thank you".
It wasn't often that Aylin found herself speechless and motionless at the same time, but that's what she was at that moment.
Finally clearing her throat to get the boy's attention, Aylin pulled his arms from her waist and placed them back at his sides. After nodding to him, Aylin watched as Dominic hurried back to the wagon.
Already she could hear the snickering and joking of Galahad and Bors, who were leaning over Gawain talking about how "even little Dominic had a crush on Aylin". Meanwhile, the more 'emotionally observant' knights sat in silence, staring at Aylin's back.
After a moment of calm breathing, Aylin walked on without turning, so no one could see the look on her face, and settled herself against a tree near the wagon.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The next morning Aylin thought she'd finally have a chance to act out her vengeance.
Marius had taken hold of Dominic, while one of the mercenaries had Lucan. Both Aylin and Dagonet were standing at ready; capable of killing the two Romans should the situation call for it. Aylin, of course, was ready to gut Marius Honorius the moment he released the boy.
"You would be one to hide behind a child, Marius. Let the boys go and face me yourself," she spat, gripping her sword.
Marius looked around and thought on his odds. All the knights stood, angry and armed, watching him and his accomplice.
Obviously, the mercenary didn't like being on the wrong side, so the man pushed Lucan toward Dagonet and went back to his comrades, leaving Marius with a very pissed off Aylin.
The Roman pulled his dagger closer to Dominic's throat and watched Aylin's eyes boil.
"Let him go," Aylin demanded lowly.
With a smirk, Marius responded, "What's he worth to you, eh? He's nothing but the son of a Sarmatian whore. What ever happened to that girl, Marsile? Surely, you know."
"She grew up strong enough to be able to kill those who made her life a misery," Aylin growled.
The smirk on Marius's face slipped as he remembered the murders of many Roman nobles in the past several years.
Increasing his grasp on the boy's arm, he snarled, "You are nothing but a murderer who had the protection of a general to keep you from your punishment. Drop your weapon or I'll slit his throat."
Aylin hated to do as he said, but the fear in Dominic's blue eyes allowed the sword to drop to the snow.
Marius's grip relaxed as he smiled with victory, the blade came away slightly from Dominic's throat.
"The man was always too arrogant for his own good," Aylin thought as she grabbed her dagger from her vambrace and went to throw it. But an arrow reached him first.
Aylin watched as Marius crumpled on the ground, his lifeblood draining from his chest. She whirled around to see Guinevere between Arthur and Lancelot, holding a bow.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" She yelled at the woman, "That was to be my kill and you know it!"
"My revenge is complete for what he did to me," Guinevere replied coolly.
"Oh, I am sorry. Of course, you should have his death right because of the what—two months you spent in that dungeon? You don't seem too affected by it. I spent seven years in slavery thanks to Marius and his fellow nobles. Your worst nightmares do not compare to the things that I've suffered. Don't speak to me of revenge," Aylin said dangerously, grabbing the woman around the throat.
"Aylin!" Arthur shouted, gripping the arm that held Guinevere. "Release her."
"Are you already so tangled in her web, Arthur? She is a Woad! In case you've forgotten, they're the enemy! They've killed your knights—my brother!"
There were several voices in the air—Horton wailing over the dead body of Marius, Bors and Galahad telling the mercenaries to drop their weapons, the serfs (unaware of the drama unfolding in the clearing) preparing their things, Arthur telling Aylin to let go of Guinevere—but one voice, though said quietly, shattered through all the others.
"Mater…"
Everyone in the clearing stopped and looked at Dominic, who kneeled in the snow, staring at Aylin with eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears.
No one said anything or moved until Dagonet gently nudged Dominic along with Lucan to the wagon.
Turning back to glare at the Woad, Aylin released Guinevere with a flick of her wrist. Walking to where her sword lay, she bent to pick it up, but Gawain grabbed it first and held it out to her. Taking it from him, she said,
"Don't. Don't ask me any questions."
He nodded and she left to saddle Artay, catching Tristan's gaze as she went.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Despite the intensity of the morning in the clearing, the people were optimistic in their escape of the Estate.
Unfortunately, the light attitude was overridden by the worry of the knights. Tristan was constantly riding back and forth, informing them that the Saxons were closing in behind them. They were expecting him back at any time with information on a faster route to the wall.
It didn't take very long. Tristan quickly rode up to Arthur and led his commander and the rest of the caravan to a route over a frozen lake, which, though carrying a high risk of danger, was the fastest way to escape the Saxon drums that were getting louder by the minute.
Halfway across the ice, it became evident to the knights, and even to the others, that unless a distraction was made, everyone would fall victim to the Saxon army.
Arthur turned to his knights with a grim expression. They all knew what he would say. The commander looked to each knight, who gave a comment in response. When his eyes landed on her, Aylin looked the wagon, where Dominic sat watching her.
Bringing her gaze back to Arthur, she nodded.
Sending Fulcinia and Alecto with their ex-serfs to safety, Arthur, Aylin, and Guinevere—the two women as far away from each other as possible--and the other knights formed a line of archers, waiting for the Saxons to appear.
Each knight had just set bundles of arrows in the snow when the army came around the corner and started out on the ice.
Following Arthur's orders, they aimed their arrows at the flanks to make the Saxons cluster, but it wasn't enough to make the ice break.
While the others tossed aside their bows and unsheathed their swords, Dagonet made a decision.
Taking up his heavy axe, the large knight charged the Saxon army alone.
Aylin looked on in horror as frontline Saxons aimed their crossbows. Grabbing her bow and thrusting more arrows into the quiver on her back, Aylin ran out after him, ignoring the shouts coming from behind.
Standing firm in front of Dagonet, who was working steadily on hacking the ice to pieces, Aylin took aim so she could cover him long enough to get the job done.
"What are you doing? Get out of here!" He shouted to Aylin.
Firing arrow after arrow at the Saxons--and dodging plenty--Aylin answered.
"Just shut up and break the ice already! My arms are getting tired!" She ended the order with a grunt.
Tired must have been the magic word, because at that moment, Dagonet's axe bit all the way through to water.
Aylin glanced down at the cracks slashing out ahead of her, causing most of the army to fall into the icy depths of the lake.
Blinking, Aylin tried to clear her hazy vision. Once it was slightly clearer, she looked down at the bolt that was lodged into her lower left side, the blood pouring from the wound staining the snow at her feet.
No one could reach her before she fell back, sinking into the gaping hole in the ice, punctured by Dagonet's axe, the water's icy fingers slowly pulling her downward.
Mater—(Latin) Mother
Next Chapter: Rescued from the Waters
Don't forget (if you're interested) that the new HBO series Rome premieres tonight 9pm/8 Central. It looks really awesome!
Oh… and review!