Chapter Ten: Debts to Remember

Alennia walked at a fast pace, a bag slung over her shoulder and a bundle under one arm. Her horse, led by Manat, followed dolefully, unappreciative of being made into a pack animal. And behind her was the clan. Her clan, Alennia thought with a burst of pride. They had stayed in the foothills of the mountains for almost three weeks, and in that time Alennia had never stopped being amazed at the men and women who had lost all, and yet could still laugh and joke with each other around the campfires at night.

They had all suffered at the hands of the Saxons in one way or another, and they all lived to shed more Saxon blood. Alennia had watched them training: their swordsmanship, archery, and unarmed combat. She had trained and advised them, all the time painfully aware of her own limitations on the battlefield, and she had sculpted them into the closest she could get to a model fighting unit.

And now they were on their long trek to the sea, across the mountains and through the forests to the coast. Alennia pushed them hard, having already tested their skills in combat, and now wanting to test their endurance.

They walked from dawn to dusk each day, only stopping to collect water as they passed streams high in the dry mountains. After a week's steady walking, Alennia was suitably satisfied with their stamina and hardiness, and she was beginning to slow the pace down as they descended down a winding path to the valley below.

It was midday, Alennia estimated as she squinted at the sun, and as she looked up into the sky she saw a hawk circling high above. A hawk with distinctive black bands on its wings. Alennia smiled to herself, and scanned the path before her, stretching into the distance, following the contours of the mountain, and twisting out of sight. She saw him, eventually, almost a mile away, riding up the wide path towards her, but a moment later he disappeared behind the folds of the mountain.

Alennia considered her options. She didn't want to lose the newly won trust and respect of her clan by letting them know that she knew him. She was reasonably confident that if she managed to convey to him that they were unacquainted, then her clan need never know. But could she stop him from saying anything, early enough?

She sighed. There was no way they could get off the path now – there was nothing but bare mountainside either side, and she had no doubt that he had already seen them. She would just have to pray – something she wasn't in the habit of doing much – that he would take her lead.

And so she shifted her bundle higher, and walked on.

"Alennia!" Manat called, and she turned to see a slightly nervous-looking Bari walking just behind her.

"Yes?" she asked, stopping.

"I…I think I saw something ahead," Bari explained, not wanting to risk bringing the whole clan to a stop for something she imagined.

"What?" Alennia asked.

"One of the Sarmatian knights," Bari explained, emboldened by Alennia's easy-going response.

"Yes," Alennia smiled slightly. "I know."

"Well…what are we going to do?" Bari asked, bewildered.

"Do? What should we do?"

"I don't know," Bari confessed. "Get off the path? Or hide?"

"You suggest that seventy-three men and women should flee from one lone rider?" Alennia asked, all-too aware of the judgements being made of her, by her reaction to this apparent threat.

"He is a knight," Bari pointed out.

"And we are the Wolf Clan!"

"But knights do not travel alone," Armelle pointed out, stepping out from behind Bari.

"We fight the Saxons, not the knights," Alennia said firmly. "We do not trouble them. They do not trouble us." And so saying, she slung her pack back over her shoulder and set off at a determined pace.

Half an hour later they met Tristan coming along the road towards them. Alennia's eyes were immediately locked on his face, pleading with him not to give anything away. He was riding with his usual causal style, hands crossed over the pommel, leaning back lazily in the saddle, and he executed a mocking half-bow as he neared them.

Alennia motioned for the clan to stop, and bowed her head to return his salute.

"Sir Knight," she said, in a feigned bad Roman accent.

"Lady," Tristan replied, his eyes studying her, as he tried to work out what those pleading eyes met.

"We are travelling to the coast. Towards Saxon blood. We mean no harm to the Romans."

Things suddenly clicked in Tristan's mind, and Alennia felt a rush of gratitude towards him.

"You must be the Clan of the Wolf," he remarked.

"I'm sorry," Alennia said, switching back to her own language so that her people could understand. "Do you speak my language? I only know a few words of yours," and as her eyes met his, they both knew it was a lie.

"Of course lady," Tristan replied promptly. "You are of the Wolf Clan?"

"Yes," Alennia said. "Travelling to the coast to kill Saxons," she reiterated for those in her clan who knew no Roman.

"I've heard of you," Tristan admitted. "It seems the Saxons are learning to fear."

Alennia could not help but grin in pure delight at this compliment, and, resisting the urge to hug him, nodded her head in acknowledgement of the tribute to her clan.

"Do you have some water to spare?" Tristan asked. "It is a hot day and I am thirsty."

"Why should I waste water on one I am meaning to kill?" Alennia asked lightly, a grin on her face.

Tristan just raised her eyebrows. "You are very polite to someone you are intending to kill," he remarked, unruffled by her comment.

Alennia shrugged. "It doesn't cost me anything."

"What if there are others with him?" Armelle whispered to Alennia from behind her shoulder. "They might want revenge."

Alennia smiled to herself that she should be taken seriously, and so pretended to consider Armelle's comment.

"Is it true, Sir Knight?" she asked, eyes wide and innocent. "Would you be missed if we killed you?"

"I'd like to hope I would be," he said, his eyes boring into Alennia's, and for a moment she was at a loss for words as she began to drown in those deep eyes, but she dragged her gaze away, and shook her head slightly to clear it.

"That's a shame. It seems we may have to let you go."

"I shall be eternally in your debt, lady, for sparing my humble life," Tristan said, performing a mocking little bow in the saddle.

Alennia could not help but laugh at this. "Just remember your debts," she warned him, moving aside to let him pass as she handed him a water skin. He drank deeply and his eyes met hers once more as he handed it back.

"I think it is you who need to remember their debts," he said softly, a grin playing around his mouth.

Alennia blushed furiously, remembering their meeting in the forest, and with a laugh Tristan pushed his horse forwards into a canted and passed the trail of curious warriors.