Thank you once again, Lady Marek - I'm so pleased you like my image of Tristan, it means such alot to me. Knightmaiden, thank you very much - unfortunately Vanora formed her strong opinions about Tristan right from the beginning and only see's what most people do in Tristan- being the strong headed woman she is, it would take alot to change her feelings. Not that Tristan gives a damn what anyone else thinks about him.But who knows, maybe she'll open her eyes one day!
Lucillaq - no one messes with Tristan's woman and gets away with it! lol! I know how you feel about poor Dag, but he's just a lonely man, far from home and he needs comfort like anyone else. You'll forgive him, wont you? Thanks so much, I'm glad you're still enjoying this. MWP - As always, thank you for all your kind words and encouragement, they mean so very much!
Fashionista06 - Hello! I'm thrilled your enjoying this story, many thanks! And to answer your other question, yes - there is definately more 'How Sweet The Rain' to come, I've just got myself so wrapped up in this one, I've decided to get Denial finished first and then I can concentrate better on the other.It won't be too long before I update!
CHAPTER 8
The noise & mayhem in the tavern made Prue's head pound and she gave an exasperated sigh as she weaved in & out of the tables & dodged drunken bodies with her expert grace. It was a typical evening. All the Sarmatian Knights were home, there was a new relief of Roman legionnaires just arrived at the garrison and as a result the place was heaving.
Prue repeatedly heard the infectious, drunken laughter of Gawain, roaring above the merry racket as always and the sound of it made her smile despite the thump of her weary head. She knew instinctively that the source of his amusement would be Tristan performing his usual knife tricks and humiliating some unsuspecting raw Roman recruit at the target board. The looks on their faces as Tristan's blade flew effortlessly towards the board & embedded straight into the grip of their own well shot dagger's never failed to entertain Gawain and with every new assignment of soldiers, came another batch of green victims.
As she bent over the ale barrel to refill her flagon for the umpteenth time, Prue let out another disparaging sigh. She was feeling none too well again and longed to go back to her room and sleep.
"What ails you,Prue?" asked Vanora through the din as she approached to refill at the same moment. She had noticed her friends increasing pallor and lethargy with concern over the last couple of weeks. Prue seemed distracted and worried, but try as she might, Vanora could get no reason from her.
"I'm fine, just tired is all." Prue answered drawing her sleeve across her forehead, wiping away the tiny beads of perspiration that trickled there.
"Is it him? Keeping you up all night, I suppose." Vanora said flatly, giving a haughty nod in the general direction of the scout.
"No. it's not Tristan." Prue sighed as she shot her friend a weary smile.
"You should get off & get some rest" Vanora ordered, sounding like her usual mothering self. "You'll be all the better for it"
"I'll do nothing of the sort! I can't leave you to tend to this mob on your own!" Prue exclaimed stubbornly "It should be you going home to rest Vanora, for pity's sake! It's been hardly a week since you gave birth!" Wanting to hear no more talk of leaving her duties, Prue heaved up the heavily filed flagon and turned around to continue serving the tables
"Oh, I'm fine me! Strong as an ox, you know that!" Vanora shouted after her, laughing loudly. Yes, she was strong as an ox despite her delicate appearance. An incredible woman, who after bearing three children still looked as pretty & petite as she did on that first day she met her man, Bors. "It's you that worries me!"
"I'll be alright, everything will be alright" called back Prue as she walked away with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Vanora eyed her friend suspiciously, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched her retreating figure making it's way over to Tristan & Gawain. It was then Vanora caught sight of Morin, the wench she had clashed with at the market some weeks ago. She hadn't shown her face around the tavern for some time since their little spat, but tonight, there she sat in a far corner along with two rather thick set, ominous looking traveller types. They were not men of the village, least ways, Vanora did not know them and she knew just about every local settler at the wall. She supposed they would be merchants, traders or the like. Just passing through, as many of them did.
Morin was cackling away & draping herself invitingly over the pair of them. Vanora saw her nod in the direction of Prue as she passed by and the two men turned to look, followed by the rumble smug laughter which ensued amongst the trio.
"Cheeky bloody, wench!" Vanora thought angrily to herself. She considered going over to her and wiping that smug smile right off her face, but Morin stopped laughing suddenly and Vanora watched as she slowly got up from the table and skulked away, beckoning the two men to follow, saving her the job.
-
Tristan was stood behind a seated Gawain, awaiting his next throw at the target when he noticed the prostitute sat laughing in the corner with the two strangers.
His head tilting slightly down, his hawk-eyes glaring through his tangled long hair, he gave a dark foreboding stare in her direction. It didn't take long before Morin sensed his sinister gaze and looking back at the Scout, the smile slipped rapidly from her face and she knew instinctively, it was time to leave.
After being satisfied that the whore was gone, Tristan turned his attention to the approach of his lady, expertly meandering in and out of the crowded inn, not once spilling a drop. He watched, his dark eyes unfaltering as Prue stopped by Dagonet and filled his outstretched mug. Tristan saw the smiles and their easy, familiar exchange. He felt the prickle of jealousy as Dagonet took Prue's hand in his and then she laughed and leant over to kiss his shaven head. Suspicion began to creep into his thoughts, his eyes narrowed and a disturbing darkness swept his brow.
Something wasn't right, hadn't been for a short while now. Could the reason really be Dagonet? Maybe there had been truth in Morin's words that day at the market. Did Prue sometimes wish she had taken Dagonet instead of him? He'd never doubted her love before, ever. But those words had nevertheless planted a seed of uncertainty that would never have spawned had it not been tended by Prue's recent curious behaviour towards him.
She had refused him again this morning. He had gently reached out for her and she had pushed him away. He had respected her wishes and not pressed her, albeit with a touch of irritation, but the shame of what he had done to her on that night in the tavern kitchen a long time gone, had always haunted him. He would never dare to push his intentions upon her, but this latest spate of rejection wounded him deeply.
She had never once referred to the offence since that night and he knew she had given her unreserved forgiveness - which did not help to heal his deep and painful feelings of guilt. Some times he wished she would throw it in his face and shame him with it, for it was no less than he deserved. But of course, he knew she would not. He could not forgive himself and never would, even if Prue had and this guilt would forever be one emotion he would struggle in vain to keep locked away within himself.
-
Dagonet held out his mug as Prue poured his ale. She seemed so drawn and tired lately and Dagonet couldn't help but show his concern.
"Is something ailing you, Prue?" he asked gently, as always. Prue looked into his troubled eyes and smiled warmly. Trust Dagonet to be the one to worry.
"No Dag, I'm quite well" She laughed, but the smile upon her face could not hide the apathy in her look. He reached out and took her hand.
He looked deep and with earnest into her eyes. "I'm always here for you, you know that don't you?"
Prue leant over and kissed his head affectionately. "I know, my dear brother and I love you for it. But worry not, for I shall be just fine." She whispered lovingly and then walked on.
Prue now reached the table where sat Gawain, opposite a young Roman soldier, one of the many from the relief unit that had arrived at the wall the previous day. Behind Gawain stood Tristan, still watchful of her every move. She cast a glance towards the scout and wrinkled her nose playfully in response to his stern gaze. Tristan immediately relaxed, relief flooding through him. That one simple look from her was all it took to chase away the demons of doubt. He was such a damned fool sometimes, what had he been thinking?
"You beauty, Prue! Your timing is impeccable!" Roared Gawain, as he slapped her rump playfully. Prue let out a startled giggle and setting the heavy flagon down, grabbed the knight's golden whiskers and ruffled them mischievously, laughing
"Keep your hands to yourself, Sir or you shall be wearing this ale, I swear"
"Ah, more ale!… About time, wench!" laughed the young Roman opposite, seeing Prue now filling Gawain's mug.
"Patience man, I've only one pair of hands, you know!" Prue laughed back as she leaned forward in front of him and began to fill another empty mug upon the table.
The young soldier eyed the swell of Prue's breasts admiringly as she did so and encouraged by Gawain's banter with the wench he went on
"Hmmmm… I wouldn't mind getting to know that one pair of hands of yours a bit better" he smirked cheekily as he dropped a shiny coin into her inviting cleavage, his fingers lingering momentarily between her warm bosom. "What d'ya say?"
Prue gave a sardonic smile, plucked out the coin & dropping it into the Soldiers ale replied dryly
"Sorry, darlin'.This girl's not for sale!"
Gawain shifted deliberately in his seat, his eyes wide and amused, knowing full well what was going to happen next.
Just as Gawain anticipated, Tristan reached across the table from behind him with incredible speed. He grabbed hold of the soldiers head and slammed him face-down, hard upon the wooden table top – the mugs and ale flaying everywhere.
Prue, terrified, immediately dropped the flagon in her hand and screamed loudly. "Tristan! Stop it, Stop it! For Gods sake leave him alone….Gawain do something!"
Gawain had no intention of intervening. He stood up quickly, reached over and took hold of Prue's arm pulling her back out of harms way, whilst at the same time signalling over to Lancelot, Bors, Galahad and Dagonet at the other side of the room. On hearing Gawain's familiar shrill whistle the knights all looked immediately to the ruckus. Leaving their ale and dice, without word or thought, all four were by Gawain's side in an instant, blades drawn from their leather and holding back any possible attempt of interference from the soldier's comrades.
"Do we have a problem?" Bors growled pointing his weapon threateningly at the gathering crowd who immediately stepped nervously back away from the knights in response.
Whatever Tristan's argument, they would see to it he settled it in his own way and in his own time.
Prue clawed desperately at Gawain's hands and attempted to make a grab for Tristan and pull him off the Roman herself, but Gawain held her fast.
By now, Tristan had dragged the dazed, blood splattered soldier across the table and swiftly turned him on to his back, a glistening and razor sharp blade pressed firmly against the man's throat.
"That's my woman….you filthy, Roman bastard." Tristan hissed between his clenched teeth "Apologise to the Lady"
One or two of the young men looked to the knights and then back to Tristan nervously, but still none dared to interfere.
The battered soldier gave out a moan, blood pumping from the jelly-like mass that was once a fine Roman nose. The warm sticky liquid was stinging his eyes & filling his throat and he was almost choking.
"I...I…I'm sorry..." he gurgled and coughed, blood spluttering from his rapidly swelling mouth.
Tristan withdrew his knife & left the soldier lying there as swiftly as he had pounced upon him, content that the man now knew his place.
The crowds slowly and reluctantly began to disperse and Tristan's fellow knights relaxed slightly, replacing their blades once they were content there were to be no would-be heroes
"What's bin going on here?" Dagonet asked, confused, as he looked from Prue to Gawain and then back at Tristan.
"Good grief, Tristan! What have you been up to now? Who's going to clean this mess up?" came the bemused inquiry from Lancelot
"VANORA!" Bors roared.
Ignoring Lancelot and the others, Tristan turned to look at Prue. She had wriggled free from Gawain's grasp and now stood staring at him in horrified disbelief. He made a move towards her but instead she turned quickly away and pushed her way hurriedly through the crowds. Tristan immediately flew after her.
------
He caught her in the courtyard. Grabbing her arm he pulled her round to face him. She was crying, utterly sickened by Tristan's gratuitous attack & could not raise her eyes to meet his.
"Don't run away from me, woman. Look at me! Look at me, damn you!" He growled, shaking her a little whilst desperately trying to capture her gaze.
"Or what? You'll give me a good beating as well!" Prue shouted back, immediately regretting it as soon as the words fell from her lips. That was not fair and she knew it. But she was upset and angry and knew those words would hurt him. Tristan stared at her in confused disbelief.
"I would never lay a hand on you" He answered, his voice a slow intense whisper. "He insulted you, Prue. What do you expect me to do? You're my girl for Gods sake!" he implored as, letting go of her arm, he took her face tenderly but resolutely in both of his hands and made her look in to his eyes.
"He didn't know that, Tristan! He only arrived yesterday!" Prue snapped back at him, defiantly peeling away his fingers from her cheeks and then turning her back on him as she did so.
"Well he knows it now" Tristan grumbled quietly with a shrug.
That she had extracted herself from his embrace and now stood firmly with her back towards him, struck Tristan with an even deeper, more painful stab of rejection and he began to feel quite wretched.
"He meant no harm!" Prue continued angrily as she swung back round to once again face him. "I deal with that sort of thing all the time – I work in a tavern, it's to be expected! Do you suppose every poor sod that walks in to know I belong to you! I can handle it well enough on my own, thank you very much! I don't need you beating them half to death over a few innocent remarks!"
"He put his hands on you…You're my woman!" Prue could hear the anger start to rise in Tristan's voice but paid no heed. He was wrong and she was not going to give in over this one.
"Your woman! Huh!" She snorted "Keep on like this, Tristan and you won't have a woman, believe me!"
He knew it was an empty threat but it hurt him all the same. Surprisingly for Prue, he did not answer her straight away. She had expected a blazing row to ensue as Tristan was never wrong and there was never any arguing with him, stubborn, proud man that he was!
Instead, his next line caught Prue completely off guard as, arresting his growing anger he answered, calmly and quietly once more.
"I can't help the way I am, you should know that by now, my Lady. Do you have any idea how much I love you?"
She couldn't help herself, her heart soared at his words. Just as he knew it would.
Seeing the hurt look in Tristan's deep brown eyes as he gazed down at her, swiftly melted her anger, replacing it with loving compassion. She could do no more than to reach up and kiss him and doing so, she felt his arms eagerly wrap around her as he clasped her tightly to his firm body, desperate that she should want him again, needing so much to know that she still loved and desired him.
Tristan hungrily tasted her embrace with his own warm delicious mouth, his relief and excitement growing as he sensed her response. He reached up and wound his long slender fingers through her hair, pulling back her head to expose her neck as he continued to caress her gently with his teeth and lips, kissing away the trail of angry tears that lay there. Prue let out a sigh at the touch of his hot breath upon her, then...
"Tristan!" The scout stopped dead at the sound of Arthur's angry voice "Tristan! I shall speak with you…. Now!"
Grudgingly letting Prue go, Tristan rolled his eyes with annoyance and licking the taste of her tears from his lips, he turned to his Commander and gave a quiet, restrained confirmation of the order.
"Tristan... what am I going to do with you?" Prue said shaking her head with a wry smile on her lips. He always won her round in the end, no matter what. She was forever powerless to stay angry with him.
"Go sort this mess out with Arthur" she urged, affectionately stroking the whiskers upon his chin "I'll be waiting for you back at the room. There's something I need to tell you. It's about time."
With that, Tristan reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair away from Prue's eyes. He looked at her for a moment, an intrigued frown upon his brow, as if searching for answers in her gaze. Finding none he gave a little huff, nodded & turned to follow Arthur.
Prue trotted off in the opposite direction.
Neither noticed the shadows lurking just beyond the stable.