Chapter Eleven : The Bathhouse

After a few moments Galahad reluctantly released Brenna from his arms and allowed Lancelot to sweep her into a gentle hug.

His laughter joined theirs a moment later though when Lancelot, in an attempt to cheer her up, slipped a hand around to her stomach and began to, of all things, tickle her.

Brenna, caught off guard by the sudden attack, gasped and stifled a screech, then set off into peals of breathless laughter as she tried to escape his hands. Finally wrenching free, she stumbled back and leaned against the rough wooden wall of the adjacent building, shaking with laughter, tears streaming once again down her cheeks. This time, tears of joy.

She pulled off her gloves and swiped ineffectively at the salty streams with one hand, while she held out the other in a sign of surrender.

"You always were ticklish dear cousin. It's good to see some things haven't changed."

Lancelot gave her a cocky grin, his deep brown eyes sparkling happily as he gazed across at her.

"And you dear cousin always were annoying."

She retorted with a look of irritation. She could not keep up the charade however, when Lancelot feigned a sigh of pain and clasped his hands to his heart as though mortally wounded.

"Ah, you wound me my lady! However shall I carry on?"

Brenna pushed off the wall and leaned forward to smack his shoulder playfully, an action which he counteracted by grabbing for her once again. She shrieked, her laughter echoing off the walls of the alleyway, as he caught her and swung her up into his arms.

"Maelgwyn. . . Galahad!" She screeched, eyes searching them out as she sucked in strangled breaths of air. "Don't just stand there! Help ME!"

Even as she spoke though Brenna felt Lancelot's grip loosen, just slightly as he sought a better hold, but enough for her to twist herself free.

Lancelot gave one last ditch effort to recapture her, but she was ready for him this time. As he lunged for her she ducked low and took his legs out from under him, forcing him onto the ground, flat on his back.

Then, as he lay there blinking in surprise, she straddled his armored chest and sat down. Her laughing green eyes twinkling happily as she cocked an eyebrow and stared down at him with a grin.

"Truce?"

Lancelot simply stared at her for a moment, stunned that he'd been so easily tricked, before laughter rumbled through his chest. He gazed up at the smiling faces of Galahad and Maelgwyn, who had moved to stand beside them, then returned his eyes to Brenna's and nodded, his dark eyes shining in the torchlight.

"Truce."

"Good, now let us get something to eat. I for one am famished!"

Brenna's grin widened as she reached up, grasped one each of both Maelgwyn and Galahad's hands, and allowed them to pull her to her feet. She gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek, and a squeeze of the hand in thanks, then turned and offered her hand to Lancelot.

Still chuckling softly, he accepted her outstretched hand, and rose smoothly to his feet. Not to be completely outdone though, he used that hand to pull her closer. Forgoing the tickling this time, he instead settled for ruffling her dark curls with his free hand.

Brenna yanked herself free of his grasp and tried in vain to smooth her already thoroughly loosened braid. Her smile turned to a grimace as she felt the grimy locks, then to disgust as she gazed down at her dirty hands in the dim light.

"Ack! I believe before I go in search of food, I should take my own advice and go in search of a BATH!"

Lancelot burst into a new fit of laughter at the horrified expression on her face, and Galahad tried to hide his grin as he stepped forward and took her hand.

"Come, we will go and fetch Vanora. She will assist you with your bath, and then bring you back to the tavern for supper."

"Thank you Galahad. At least someone still knows how to treat a lady."

With that, Brenna looped her arm through Galahad's, shot a glare of mock indignation in Lancelot's direction, and sauntered off down the alley.

Arthur, Gawain and Maelgwyn shared an amused grin, as Gwyn scooped up their saddle bags from where they had fallen. Then he and the others followed the twins, with Lancelot trailing behind them, in the direction of the tavern.

Glad that the tension of mere minutes ago had melted away, as though never present.

Brenna shifted her black leather saddle bag to her right shoulder, and tucked a few stray curls behind her ear. She gazed skyward for a moment, eyes taking in the inky black expanse, then shifted her gaze to the petite red head walking beside her. A worried frown crossed her face as she questioned the older woman.

"Are you completely certain that the bathhouse will be empty?"

Vanora grinned up at her newfound friend reassuringly and looped her arm through Brenna's. Her blue eyes twinkled in the light of the torches lining the street, as they left the noisy tavern behind them and headed deeper into the knight's section of the fortress.

"Don't you worry now dearie, I'm not taking you to the public bathhouse. The boys have their very own, and they are all at the tavern. Where my Bors'll keep them if he knows what's good for him."

Brenna couldn't help but chuckle softly at the last. She'd only just met the fiery young woman, but she'd heard tales of her temper on the trip to the wall. She'd also heard of the nine children that the woman had birthed, and cared for mostly on her own. Now that she'd actually met her, Brenna's respect and admiration for the woman had only grown, and she hoped very much that they would become good friends.

"Not to sound rude, and it is not that I do not believe you, but . . they have their own bathhouse? Is that not a bit unusual? We Sarmatians tend to be treated no better than dogs, and I find it hard to believe that the Romans allow them such a luxury."

While meant to be slightly joking, Brenna could not fully keep the hint of anger and bitterness from her voice. She'd had more than enough personal experience in the treatment of her race at the hands of the Romans. Tonight's incident had been but a small nothing, compared to past experiences.

Vanora gave her a sad little smile of understanding and patted her arm soothingly.

"It was not originally built for the Sarmatians, but for a past Roman Commander. Seems he was quite a rich man, he'd married a very wealthy young woman, whom he brought to live here at the wall. Along with all of her maidservants and such, of course."

Van grinned up at Brenna, and when it was returned, continued.

"Well, this young woman was accustomed to the finery, and snobbery, of Rome. She did not like the idea of sharing a bath with the soldiers, common folk of the fort, and most importantly, the Sarmatians. Them she hated, and blamed for her husband's posting in Britain. As if they want to be here!"

Vanora flung up her free arm in exasperation, and huffed indignantly, muttering impolite insults under her breath. After a moment she'd calmed enough to continue.

"Well, in order to appease the cow, her milksop of a husband had a private bathhouse built, attached to the commander's quarters in the Sarmatian section. Over the years, it has been used solely by whomever the current commander was. When Arthur took over however, he opened it up to his men."

Pausing in her speech, she looked up at Brenna and grinned slyly.

"Now, on to the more important question. Just who is that wonderful man that you were with, Maelgwyn? Is he your husband? A right fine catch he'd be, I'd say."

Brenna smiled softly and shook her head.

"No. He is not my husband, though we have traveled as such in the past. Less questions that way. People are slightly more accepting of a man and woman traveling together if they believe said couple are married."

"So he's your lover then? You'll find no judgment on my part if that be the case. My Bors and I aren't wed yet either."

Again Brenna shook her head.

"No he is not, we are merely the best of friends, he's like my brother. We are very close, though. We've been through much together and were it not for Gwyn, I would not be alive and walking down this wretchedly foul smelling road with you."

Brenna wrinkled her nose and added a tone of lightness to her voice, trying to mask the truth behind those words. Ending with a half hearted attempt at a joke, her subtle queue to end the conversation.

Taking the hint, Vanora let the subject drop, though she made a mental note to herself to find out the truth at a later date. She had no more time to dwell on it however, as they rounded the corner and the commander's quarters came into sight directly ahead.

"Here we are now, lets get you cleaned up and back for some supper. You must be starving!"

The two women climbed the short flight of stairs and, opening the heavy wooden doors, stepped into the main foyer.

"Down that way are Arthur's quarters, the great hall, various other rooms, and beyond that connects to the knight's barracks."

Vanora pointed to the right as she spoke, then tugged on Brenna's arm, guiding her down the hall to the left. She stopped in front of a set of ornately carved doors and shoved one of them open, then dragged the dark haired woman inside and bolted the door behind her. She turned and grinned up at Brenna as she led her further into the center of the large room.

"There, even if they slip past my Bors, that'll keep them out."

Brenna merely nodded in reply as her eyes took in the sights before her. The room they stood in was the main one, a combination of both dressing room and frigidarium. To one side of the open space was a cold plunge pool, and along the walls were carved niches, and a few wooden chests, where a bather's personal belongings were stored. Several benches stood about the room as well, and it was lit by several lanterns spaced along the walls.

To her left she recognized Galahad's cloak hanging in one of the cubby holes and smiled. All about the room was scattered evidence of the men who frequented the place. Benches and chests draped with items of clothing, towels, sandals, and flasks of oil, that had not yet been replaced in the cubby holes.

To the right stretched a hallway, with several more doors that appeared to lead to the other parts of the bathhouse.

As if reading her thoughts, Vanora moved in their direction and began flinging them open, showing off each different room. An endless stream of chatter flowed from Van's lips as Brenna took in everything she was shown with interest. She'd been to a public bathhouse once or twice but had not particularly enjoyed the experience.

'Not at all actually.'

She thought to herself with a wry grin. She could still remember the whispers and the stares of the other women, women whose bodies had never known the horrors that Brenna's had. Whose milky white flesh had never tasted the cold steel of a blade or the harsh roughness of a captor's hands.

She shook her head slightly and rubbed a tired hand across her weary eyes. Trying to forget, and instead concentrate on the kind, bubbly woman excitedly showing off the many features of the building.

Brenna was assaulted by a most heavenly blast of steam as Vanora opened the first door and led her inside. This was the white tiled tepidarium, a warm steamy room lined with benches where one could sit and chat, relaxing after a hard day's training. It featured a small, warm pool of water, that took up the center of the room.

A doorway to one side connected to another smaller room, with shelves lining its walls. Shelves that held an assortment of scented oils and a collection of long, curved metal strigils. In the center of the room stood a padded leather table, where one could lie and have a relaxing massage.

Leaving that room, though somewhat reluctantly, as she could not wait to get back in there, the pair came next to the caldarium. This room was closest to the hypocaust, or furnace. and was much hotter than the tepidarium. One had to wear sandals in there as the tiled floor could get quite hot to the touch. The caldarium held a steaming hot pool to one side, and to the other was a small waist high fountain or labrum, which held cool water with which to splash oneself.

"Well that's about the whole of it. It's not nearly as large or fancy as the public thermae, but we enjoy it. Oh, and there is a latrine through that door at the end."

Vanora gestured to the last door at the end of the hall and when Brenna nodded her understanding, she headed back toward the main room.

"Now, off with your clothes, let's get you cleaned up shall we? Do you have your own bathing supplies?"

Brenna nodded, suddenly shy and nervous as she dropped her bag and reluctantly began to tug at the ties of her cloak. She knew the look of disgust that was sure to come when she shed her protective layer of clothing, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole. She had hoped to become friends with Vanora, and could not bear to see such a look in her eyes.

Vanora noticed the fear in the younger woman's pale eyes and her own softened as she quietly took Brenna's cloak and laid it on the bench beside her saddlebags.

"Whatever is wrong dearie, surely you are not afraid of old Van now are you? The men have talked of nothing else since they returned, than our dear Galahad's brave sister, charging into battle with the Woads."

Brenna stared at the ground as she removed her various weapons and carefully placed them on the bench, then went to work on the lacings of her hauberk, refusing to meet her eyes as she spoke.

"It's not that, it is just. . . ."

Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words, words which refused to come.

"I have many scars. I. . .I have been in many a battle, and before that I. . . the Saxons they. . ."

Her voice trailed to a whisper once more, and Van clucked her tongue as she moved forward and swept a surprised Brenna into a comforting hug.

It's alright love, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. There's time enough for that later."

Vanora gave her one last squeeze and looked up at her, eyes sparkling with good natured mischief.

"As for scars, they're nothing I haven't seen before. Have you not seen my Bors?"

Her tension somewhat relieved Brenna burst into laughter, her own eyes dancing as she pictured the large, bald man.

"Yes, I have. And. . .thank you."

Vanora just grinned at her and reached out to help her with her hauberk and boots.

Moments later, Brenna stood in only her breeches and loose tunic, rooting through her saddlebag for the bath things she knew were there. With a grunt of triumph, she pulled them free and held up the flask of oil, towels, small strigil, and bathing sandals.

"I knew they were in there somewhere."

She placed them on the bench and began to unlace her leather breeches and her tunic, then paused and gazed hesitantly at Vanora one last time. The woman simply smiled reassuringly and nodded at her, so she turned around and slid off first the breeches, then the tunic and then pulled her thick braid over her shoulder to untie the strip of leather.

Brenna cringed at the startled gasp behind her and sighed. The braid fell from her fingers and she turned, almost defiantly, to face the petite woman.

Instead of the disgust she expected to see reflected there though, she saw only sadness and tears that were already threatening to fall. Surprised, she was speechless for a moment as green eyes met blue, and a look of understanding flashed in the older woman's eyes.

"Please forgive me Brenna, I'd tried to prepare myself, but. . there are so many. . ."

"There is nothing to forgive my friend, I know well what a shock it must have been. I am only glad that you are still able to look me in the eye. Most won't, they are much too revolted and disgusted."

Brenna spoke softly, one hand absently tracing the myriad of lines crossing her abdomen. Some red, some faded to shades of pink and white, they were there, a permanent reminder of the past. Her back, she knew, was even worse than her front and legs, and that was what Vanora had seen first. Not to mention there was, covering the scars, a huge nasty looking bruise gracing the length of her back. Stretching from her left shoulder to her right hip, she knew it to have faded from its original purple/black to a lovely shade of greenish yellow.

"Well then those folk are fools! You cannot help things that were out of your control!"

Vanora spoke fiercely, her eyes lit with righteous anger at the injustice in the world. Brenna smiled gratefully at her, and laughed.

"Come let us get on with my bath, eh?"

The red head took a deep breath to calm herself, before she returned the smile and nodded.

"You know, I believe I shall join you. I hired two new girls last week, and Bors is there if there is any trouble. The tavern and the children can do without me for a while."

With that, she moved to one of the wall niches, and began to root out her own supplies. She turned back to Brenna as she slipped out of her dress, picked up her things, and she and Brenna headed toward the tepidarium.

"Could I ask where the bruise came from? Surely Maelgwyn does not beat you, does he?"

Brenna turned to her with a shocked expression, and replied vehemently.

"NO! Gwyn would never raise a hand to me!"

The hurt look on Vanora's face instantly made Brenna regret the harsh tone. She softened her voice and blushed, as she sat down on the warm stone bench and uncorked her flask of oil.

"Forgive me, my friend. I did not mean to speak so harshly, it's just that Gwyn means the world to me, and I tend to get a little overexcited if anyone speaks ill of him. He truly never would harm me in any way, he is my self appointed protector."

The red head patted her shoulder and nodded in understanding, then uncorked her own flask and began rubbing the oil into her skin.

"You do not have to explain that to me, it is the same way with my Bors and I."

Brenna laughed and continued, as she poured a dollop of oil into her hand and began to smooth it across her dirt caked body.

"Actually, the bruise is from a Roman. A few weeks ago Gwyn and I were in Londinium, looking for information on Galahad. We made the mistake of stopping in a tavern for a bite to eat before we went to check on the animals and retire for the night. A soldier there, a huge, ugly beast of a man, did not take it kindly when I refused his advances."

Brenna paused in her tale and picked up her strigil, which she began to scrape across her skin, removing the oil and grime. She grimaced in disgust and wiped it on one of the towels, before she continued with her story.

"Later that evening as I left the stables a few steps ahead of Gwyn, the soldier came at me from behind with a rather large stick. I suppose he thought he would beat me into submission and then have his way with me."

Vanora gasped in surprise and outrage, her eyes burning with fury.

"Bloody Roman Pig! What did you do?"

Amusement flitted across Brenna's eyes as she grinned wickedly.

"Well, let us only say that he will not do that again."

"Surely you didn't kill him? Say you didn't!"

Brenna was silent for a moment, then took pity on the look of horror on her friend's face, and put her out of her misery.

"No, I didn't kill him. Actually I did not even get the satisfaction of striking him back. Maelgwyn beat me to it as I struggled to catch my breath and regain my feet. He gave the man a thrashing he won't soon forget. . . . . We left Londinium shortly thereafter, and I don't believe we shall ever return again. Dreadful place really."

She flashed a cheeky grin at the red head as the woman erupted into peals of laughter, Brenna's own soon joining hers, the sound echoing joyfully about the tiled room. It was soon followed by a loud splash as the pair finished with the strigils and jumped into the warmth of the pool.

Maelgwyn took a small sip of mulled wine, then leaned back in his chair as he let his sharp grey gaze roam the dimly lit tavern. It was getting late and the tavern was beginning to empty. Even Arthur and some of the knights had left in search of their beds. There were a few stragglers left however. Mostly Roman soldiers and a commoner or two, as well as the four barmaids.

He himself sat at a table in the corner with the scout, Tristran to his left, followed by Dagonet, Bors, Lancelot, Galahad, Gareth and finally Gawain on his right. All save he and Tristran were engaged in a lively conversation about the day's events. The latter sat carving thin slices off a bright green apple and slowly savoring each piece.

Without even looking up or acknowledging Gwyn's presence, he stabbed the dagger into the tabletop and reached into a small pouch hanging from his belt. He slowly withdrew a second apple and placed it on the table in front of Maelgwyn, then retrieved his knife and continued to eat his own.

Gwyn smiled and reached for his eating knife as Gareth, noticing what the quiet scout had done, leaned across the table with a grin.

"You'd better enjoy that. It's high praise and thanks coming from Tristran for him to give up one of his apples. He values them above most anything else."

The scout said nothing, but Gwyn caught the barely imperceptible nod of agreement and the flicker of amusement in the deep, golden brown eyes. After slowly returning in kind, he sliced into the juicy fruit and did as Gareth had suggested. Then let his eyes continue on their path across the room as he munched contentedly on his gift. Truth be told, he adored apples as well.

As his eyes swept across the area, they lit up and a grin spread quickly across his face, as he caught sight of two figures just entering the tavern. Noticing his expression, the knights swiveled in their seats to see what he was looking at. Their lively conversation ground to an abrupt halt and several jaws around the tavern dropped at the vision winding her way across the room toward the knights, followed closely by a beaming Vanora.

Clean and refreshed, Brenna had left the breeches and tunic behind in favor of a dress. Jet black, it was trimmed in silver leaves embroidered along the scooped neckline and the edges of the long, flowing sleeves. The bodice hugged her curves down to her hips where it flared into a full skirt, trimmed at the bottom with more of the leaves.

Vanora had convinced her to leave her hair down, and it now fell in a tumbling mass of wild ebony curls and waves that cascaded down her back, coming to a halt just above her backside.

The knights scrambled to their feet, Gareth nearly sending the blonde on his lap to the floor in his haste. She huffed indignantly and smacked him, before stalking off toward the bar. Gareth barely noticed, instead dragging a chair over and placing it between himself and Gawain, and motioning for her to sit as he bowed low.

"My Lady, would you do us the honor of gracing us with your presence?"

Brenna grinned mischievously at the handsome blonde knight and dipped into a curtsey, holding out her hand in true ladylike fashion for him to kiss. Which he gladly did in an instant, his blue eyes sparkling.

"But of course Sir Knight."

She smiled and nodded a greeting at each knight in turn as they settled themselves back in their seats, Vanora on her Bors' lap.

Gawain leaned back in his chair, sipping his ale, as Brenna began chatting with Galahad about something or other. He watched silently as Lancelot turned away yet another barmaid and frowned thoughtfully.

It had begun not long after they'd arrived at the tavern, and had continued since. All evening Gawain had watched Lancelot turn away the many wenches that had approached him, even going so far as to shove a particularly bold one off his lap. It was not often that Lancelot turned away a willing woman, and most were very willing. He was Lancelot after all.

Something was obviously deeply troubling his friend, that much was certain, but what? He'd seen these moods before occasionally, but tonight he seemed even worse than usual.

His thoughts were scattered to the four winds though, as Brenna chose that moment to lean across him, to snatch a slice of apple from Gwyn's knife. As she did so he caught the most delicious scent of cinnamon. He smiled and breathed deeply of the sweet yet spicy smell. Most of the barmaids chose lavender, rose, or lily, and it was a refreshing change to smell something different. But then, for that reason alone, the scent suited her well, for she was different than any woman he'd ever met. Her silky hair fell in a wave across his lap, and it was all he could do not to reach out and stroke it.

Brenna smiled at him as she settled back into her chair with her prize, completely oblivious to his reaction as she happily crunched away on it. Her gaze left Gawain's after a moment and drifted around the table once again, coming to rest on Lancelot.

Her smile turned serious as she took in his troubled expression and watched as he coldly turned away the petite brunette trying to worm her way into his lap. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he downed the last of his ale in one swift gulp, slammed the tankard down on the rough wooden tabletop, shoved back from the table, and stormed out of the tavern. All without saying a single word.

He left his very concerned friends in stunned silence, as they watched him disappear into the shadows of the night.

A/N - Well, there you have it. Yes a bit of a cliffy. . I know I'm evil! But at least it was nice and long, and only about a week between updates this time! I hope you all enjoyed it!

To my lovely reviewers. . . WOW 13 reviews this chapter! I'm amazed and overjoyed, I thank you ALL from the bottom of my heart! I LOVE YOU GUYS! As always please review and let me know what you thought of the chapter, I'm very happy with how this one came out, and I hope all of you are as well!