Almost Had It All
Sorry for the wait, y'all. I was waiting to see if someone emailed me with some ideas before I posted my next chapter. But, sadly, no one did and I had to go on and post. I'll repeat my request in case you missed it last time: I need a beta, or someone who just wants to give me some ideas. My email address is in my profile, so use that or just leave a review. Which–by the way–thank you guys so much for. I love getting reviews and y'all did a great job this last chapter! Keep it up!
If I don't get some more ideas, expect this story to have a few more chapters. I need to wrap this puppy up–since I've been working on it for almost a year now–so I can get back to work on my other story, which has been on hiatus until this one's finished.
FYI: I know the history, and I've done the research, but I wasn't sure if they mainly beheaded, burned or "whatever" people at this point in time. So, I'll just be using the ol' stake and fire thing when I get around to the actual event.
Chapter Twelve: Executed Plans
One devotion to an empty moment.
Can't you stay tonight?
Silence broken with words unspoken.
Now she's on her knees (no more)
"Feeling so useless, can I beg for one more?" she said
Taking with arms wide open.
Longing for sleep again.
The air is clearing.
Again, we're breathing.
Water turns to wine.
The day is tired,
the night inside her.
Now she is alive (no more)
"Feeling so useless, can I beg for one more?" she said.
Taking with arms wide open.
Longing for sleep again.
But now, I'm awake...
But now, I'm awake...
But now, I'm awake...
Keep breathing, 'til you feel something,
Take my breath
(Away!) Keep breathing, 'til you feel something, take my breath away
(Away!) Keep breathing, 'til you feel something, take my breath away
(Away!) Keep breathing, 'til you feel something, take my breath away
(Away!) Keep breathing, 'til you feel something, take my breath away
"Feeling so useless, can I beg for one more?" she said.Taking with arms wide open.
Longing for sleep again.
But now, I'm awake (I'm awake)
But now, I'm awake (I'm awake)
But now, I'm awake (I'm awake)
But now, I'm awake
"Awake" Finch
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
470 A.D.
Hadrian's Wall...
"Immediate Execution?" Arthur yelled, bringing his gaze up to the bishop's.
"By order of the Emperor," Germanus smirked, spitting a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground.
Horton rushed over to the bishop, who shrugged off his secretary's helping hand and slowly stood on his own.
Looking at Aylin, who was pulled to her feet by Tristan in her shocked state, Germanus added in a venomous snarl,
"I think we can add assault upon my person to your list of crimes, Marsile."
"I would like to hear what crimes she has committed that require her death, Bishop," Lancelot said through clenched teeth.
Casting an indifferent glance at the dark knight's threatening tone, Germanus recited Aylin's offenses.
"Marsile is guilty of the murders of Lord and Lady Canimas, and was sentenced to her service to Rome as punishment. Those of us with the Church wished to have executed for their deaths, but the late General Gattus must have been blinded by her temptress ways and petitioned for her life. Even after being sentenced, this... whore is suspected in several other noble deaths. All men, and all former friends of Lucius Canimas–"
"Oh, please! You never suspected anyone else in those deaths. I'll admit I did it, I care not. And I enjoyed every bit of it. But none of that matters, anyway. The Church has wanted me gone for years, and will do anything to get what it wants," Aylin spat.
Germanus didn't deny or confirm her statement. He just stared at her, before sniffing and ordering her imprisonment.
When she noticed that the knights made aggressive movements to their weapons, Aylin violently shook her head.
"No. Don't get involved. This is my business."
Soldiers roughly grabbed hold of her arms, shackled her wrists, and began pulling her toward the jail.
"Wait!"
Everyone in the courtyard stopped to look at who had spoken. All except Aylin, who kept walking–knowing exactly who the voice belonged to, and desperately wishing he would keep silent–practically dragging the soldiers behind her.
Be quiet. Please, be quiet, she thought silently.
"Wait!" The voice seemed more panicked now.
The soldiers had fully stopped, bringing Aylin to a halt, and watched as a young boy ran up to the 'prisoner' and grabbed hold of the chains binding her hands together.
"Don't take her away! Please don't take her away," Dominic pleaded.
Germanus watched Aylin closely, and read the pleading in her own eyes, directed toward the Sarmatians. Pleading for what? He wondered, looking hard at the dark-haired boy. And then, something clicked.
"Boy," the bishop started, walking toward him, "Why do you care what happens to this criminal?"
Dominic turned to answer the bishop, and Germanus grinned heartlessly when he saw the boy's face.
Before Dominic could say anything, Aylin grabbed hold of his shoulders and pushed him toward Galahad, who then nudged the boy behind himself and the other knights.
"Ah. So I thought," Germanus said. "There were rumors, but I never really thought they were accurate. But what a delicious piece of information: Marsile, the great warrior, has a bastard son. There are several who will be happy to hear such a thing."
No one needed to question the bishop's sarcastic comment. Obviously, there would be those who were uncomfortable with the fact that 'Marsile's' bloodline would be continued.
Unless Dominic was 'taken care of' as well, Tristan mused silently, reading Aylin's plea perfectly: "Watch Dominic. Keep Germanus away from him."
Smirking, Germanus called out, "Take her away. Her death awaits her tomorrow morning."
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Silence reigned at the Round Table of Arthur and his Knights.
A day such as this should have been a time of celebration and much drink.
But the tavern was full to the point of being overrun and the men were in no mood for ale and wenches.
Instead, Lancelot, Galahad, Gawain, Dagonet, Bors, Tristan and Arthur sat in their seats at the table–that, for so long, had meant equality and fellowship between them–and wondered now how to keep one that they considered their own from death.
All of them had an idea, but none voiced it in Arthur's presence. They didn't think their Commander – ex-commander now—would like to hear of a clergyman's death at his fort at the hand of his own men.
"We have to do something," Gawain sighed, breaking the silence. "If we don't, not only will they kill Aylin, but the boy as well. We all saw the look in the bishop's eyes when he saw him. If he got the chance, Germanus would kill Dominic with his own hands."
"How? Other than killing Germanus, we have no other options," Lancelot pointed out lowly.
"We could just kill the soldiers. They'll be the ones doin' it," Bors suggested.
"We will be killing no one," Arthur said sternly.
"Arthur! This is Aylin's life we are discussing. If Kavan were here, he'd have already killed the Roman bastard!" Galahad argued.
"Well, Kavan isn't here, Galahad," the Roman replied somberly.
"If we don't do something, Aylin won't be here either," Dagonet added. "She saved my life at that lake. I won't let her die without doing anything to stop it."
Tristan sat quietly and without expression. He'd already made his decision. Unlike Arthur, the scout wasn't driven by his conscience; he wasn't completely sure he had one to begin with. He had no problem with having someone's blood on his hands, particularly the bishop's.
It was this bloodlust of his that always separated him from his brothers-in-arms. They just didn't understand his nonchalance in killing. Though they themselves had become numb to death over the years, it seemed that the scout had been born with a sword in his hands.
But that woman, he thought, she understands.
She hadn't judged him. Hadn't pulled away from him, as others had. She understood because she had the same mentality in herself.
And, dammit, he wasn't going to sit around and do nothing.
He waited until Arthur finally couldn't stand the silence and left to think of a way to, if not stop the execution, then at least stall it until he could.
Once the Roman left, the scout stood and exited the room, quietly making his way through the halls before stopping in front of a door and knocking.
A soft voice asked "Who is there?" from the other side.
"Tristan."
The door was unlocked and cracked open an inch or so, and Fulcinia's gray eyes could be seen in the sliver of light shining from the room.
When she recognized the scout, the door opened further so she could stick her head out.
"Have you and the others come up with a way to help her?" Was the first question out of her mouth.
Shaking his head slightly, Tristan went straight to the point of his visit.
"Is he still here?"
Nodding, Fulcinia replied,
"He and Lucan are with Alecto right now."
After much thought, it had been decided that the safest place for Dominic was with Fulcinia and her son. Arthur was sure that the bishop would make no harmful move toward the boy as long as he was with the Pope's godson.
Satisfied, Tristan nodded to the Roman woman, made sure the door was shut and locked and retreated down the hall.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
In a jail cell, Aylin released a breath of relief.
Not only were her hands chained to the wall, but–after a little bit of contact between her foot and a couple of soldiers' groins–her ankles were shackled now as well.
Fortunately, the men had taken a tavern break and would likely forget all about her after a few cups of wine and with the serving wenches to keep them occupied.
Her ribs and back hurt badly. Her designated tormenters, Timon and Brutus, had gladly kicked her once she was chained. They seemed to have a special fondness for her recently cauterized wound, once they had accidentally realized that it was there.
The right side of her face was throbbing and would probably bruise.
Damn Romans, she said quietly. Aylin leaned back against the wall and hung her head.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting like that when light footsteps could be heard on the stairs leading down to the holding cells. Surprisingly, Aylin was alone in the jail–the jailer above being the only exception–so she didn't have a hint as to who was approaching her little slice of hell.
Expecting one of the knights, she couldn't help but gape in shock when Guinevere appeared outside the bars holding Aylin in.
Leaning her dark head back on the wall and resting her forearms on bent knees, Aylin waited for an explanation.
"No doubt you're surprised to see me here," the woad said after a moment.
"What are you doing here, Woad?" Aylin asked harshly.
With a scoff, Guinevere shot back, "Even in a cage you still snarl at me like a rabid dog."
"Better a rabid dog, than a determined rabbit. I'm surprised you're not latched on to either Lancelot's or Arthur's leg with that pleading look in your black eyes."
"You know nothing about me. I am not doing what you obviously believe I am," Guinever replied with narrowed eyes.
"Don't insult my intelligence, Guinevere. Keep thinking what you will–"
"Am I interrupting anything?"
Both women swung their gazes to the stairs, where Lancelot stood, seemingly unaware of the topic of their conversation.
The pair said nothing and Guinevere excused herself, feeling Aylin's glare upon her back all the while.
Feeling the chill in the air, Lancelot involuntarily shivered.
"What was that all about?"
Aylin stood painfully, grimacing at the as of yet unseen bruises that made themselves known at the movement.
Walking slowly toward the dark knight, Aylin stopped about a yard from the bars–the furthest the chains would allow–holding a hand over the battered wound.
"Are you alright?" Lancelot asked concernedly.
"Fine."
Regarding her with suspicious eyes, he replied,
"What was going on when I entered?"
"Nothing. I know not what you speak of."
"Oh, please, Aylin. Before Guinevere left it was cold enough in here to freeze the cock off a–"
"Don't finish that sentence, Lancelot. I've heard enough soldier's talk in the last few hours to last me a week. And I've been around soldiers my whole life!"
"Are they the ones who did this to you?" He asked quietly, gesturing to her red cheek and covered wound.
Aylin nodded with a sigh.
"Out of the two, it is Brutus, the younger, who is worse. I think he is trying to prove something," she added humorlessly.
Both were silent for several minutes.
"We are trying to find a way, Aylin," he said softly after a long hesitation.
When Aylin didn't respond, Lancelot placed a comforting hand on the bars, and turned to leave.
When the knight reached to bottom of the steps, Aylin called out,
"Watch your step with her."
Turning back, Lancelot stared at her in question.
"The woad is plotting something. I know you cannot see it, but she plays both you and your friend. Watch out for her; don't trust her. Otherwise, she will only do harm," she emphasized with a meaningful look.
Lancelot nodded and climbed the steps until out of her view.
"Watch her," Aylin said again to herself softly.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Lancelot entered the tavern with the distinct purpose of finding Tristan. Scanning the large room, his gaze soon landed on the silent scout leaning on the far wall.
Pushing through the crowd, he made his way to the man. Leaning up on the wall beside him, he said casually as to not draw attention,
"I just came from the jail. She's been beaten already."
Tristan's form tensed beside the dark knight.
"Who?" He asked simply.
Scanning the crowd yet again, Lancelot searched for the young soldier that had taken Aylin to the prison earlier that day.
"Him, there," he answered, pointing nonchalantly to a light-haired soldier practically passed out in his cup.
With a barely perceptible nod, Tristan pushed off the wall and made his way to the tavern entrance to await the man's exit.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Tristanlurked in the shadows outside the tavern with a boiling rage inside him. But he kept it hidden, as usual.
Luckily, he didn't have to wait long for the man to leave. And the foolish man even left alone.
Tristan made quick work of dragging the man out of view and silencing him. The scout's stealth made it easy for the two to slip past others and up the wall unnoticed.
Taking his sharpened dagger from its sheath at his belt, Tristan plunged it into Brutus' throat and pushed the dying man off the wall to the northern side, leaving him to be feasted upon by crows until the inevitable arrival of the Saxon army.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Sitting silently in his chair at the Round Table, Arthur thought more on his decision as he waited on the arrival of his accomplice. Watching the coals burnbrightly in the brazierat the center of the table, he pondered the consequences of his plan and what also would happen if it were not carried out.
A pounding on the monstrous wooden doors brought Arthur out of his reverie as Bennett entered the Meeting Hall.
The soldier who had commanded the bishop's caravan saluted Arthur and awaited his speech.
"Have a seat, Bennett. We have much to plan."
Haha. Hope you guys liked it. Please review!
Give me ideas! Please! Send me an email- los ojos verdes hotmail com (Periods and "at" symbol in the spaces.)