Note: Once I again, I appologize for the delay. I have no excuse to supply for my laziness and writer's block. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Happy reading. And thank you for reading this story.

"I am plagued again by thoughts, but not those of the past. The future seems to have wormed it's way into my thoughts and it fightens me. Where the past was comfort, the future is fear. What does my future hold? What does anyone's future foretells?"

Excerpt from Alexandrea's Journal

The news of Father's death hurts, but I try to think of what he would tell me. He would say that it was all part of life. You live and you die, just when you die is the mystery. I think of him and pray that he is with Mother again; at least they deserve to be happy. According to the priests, they both would have gone to Hell, and if people like Father go to Hell, I suppose the priests' Hell cannot be that bad. I find that I have very little faith in what priests say lately. I think they might be completely wrong about everything.

We continue on, though the traveling pace is very slow. All of the people that are traveling with us slow us down greatly and many of the knights are getting a little antsy because they keep on getting signs of the Saxons following closely behind us. It has started to snow, and the people are tired and cold. They are forced to leave things behind so that they can move faster, but many of the villagers do not want to. Arthur tries to tell them that they need to do leave everything but the bare necessities behind gently, but the does not seem to get the people to understand, so Lancelot takes their stuff and pitches it off to the side. "Leave it!" he glares at the villagers. They are scared of Lancelot and they quickly comply with his orders. Lancelot grins and walks away. "See, Arthur, you are too soft. They need to be told what to do."

Arthur shakes his head. He understands Lancelot but he does not agree with him. I think he would like to argue with Lancelot, but there is no point in arguing with the gruff knight who is too set in his ways to change.

I have taken to walking because I cannot ride in the cart any more. Once in a while I ride, but there are really not that many horses to spare and so the slower ones, weaker ones, sicker ones, usually ride. I don't care. I rather enjoy walking, it is much better than sitting around in complete darkness for months upon end with nothing to do.

To my good fortune, Gawain and Conn have taken to avoiding me all together. I know they have not completely forgotten about me because I catch them staring at me from afar or glaring at each other in passing. I think someone must have spoken with them, and I think I know who.

"Tristan?" I ask him as he rides up beside me. "Have you been meddling?"

"Me? Meddle? Never?" he winks at me.

"What did you say to them?" I insist.

"That you are very confused and near suicide," he grins wickedly.

"You didn't," I gasp.

He laughs. "No, it wasn't me. Arthur lectured them on how you were your own person and what not. I didn't listen to the entire lecture, really didn't see the point."

"Arthur spoke to them?"

"To everyone. He made sure that we all understood that we were not to bother you in any way, particularly romantically. It's Arthur's way to protect things, so I suppose you are something he wants to protect. No one will go against his orders; we are all too loyal for that."

I smile. "I suppose I have nothing else to do but talk to you than."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Very depressing."

"Indeed," Tristan grins.

"Well, I suppose talking with you is better than no one."

"Admit it, you enjoy our little conversations."

I laugh. "According to some of the others, they think I have bewitched you. I hear you are not much for talking."

"I talk when I want and to whom I please."

We continue on. "How long until we reach the wall?"

"A few more days, possibly a week if we don't speed things up a bit."

"Saxons?"

"Close, but not too close."

"Everything just keeps on getting better," I reply sarcastically.

"They always do." He grins.

I shake my head, "Are you always like this?"

"Never, just when I choose to be."

We continue on in silence. I don't know what to do. I try not to think of the future, but the future is ever pending and I can't help but to think of it. What will happen to me once we reach the wall? The knights are on their last mission and will dispatch to their homes once we return. Saxons invade England, making the choice of living here on my own very unlikely. I can't go back to Rome, I can't. If I do, I will probably suffer the same fate as my parents, and I'm determined not to give the Roman lords the satisfaction of extinguishing Pelagius' family.

"Why so quiet?" Tristan finally asks.

"The future," I reply quietly.

"What about it?"

I look at Tristan, he seems to be serious about is inquiries. The look in his eyes reminds me of one of the first conversations I've had with him. It is completely different from his usual looks; it is more of a thoughtful one. "Where is it leading us? What does the future hold?" I reply truthfully, there is no reason to avoid answering.

"Future telling is for the witches. Worrying about the future can only lead to headaches."

"Don't you ever wonder what lies ahead for you?" I ask.

"No, I already know what lies ahead. I will die, probably in battle. It will be a warrior's death. I shall take many of my enemies down to Hell with me."

"Is that all?" I ask.

"Yes, it is the way I want it. I have no problem dying, and I really don't mind waiting to find out when I'm supposed to die."

"Why?"

"It's been the way of my tribe. We are warriors, and warriors fear not death. We live and die by the sword."

"Why can't everything be as simple and set?"

"Who say's it's not?"

I shake my head. I think I prefer the other Tristan, the mocking Tristan. The thoughtful Tristan gives me a headache. "You are really something, you know that? You seem to me the most uncomplicated person there is, with your silent warrior persona, and then you turn out to be very different and set in your beliefs. You are a puzzle."

"Am I?" he asks amused.

"Yes, it's as if you wear a mask and only reveal your true self every once in awhile to selected people. I suppose everyone wears a mask is one way or another. "

Tristan smiles. "Yes, very true."

"Tristan!" Lancelot rides up. It is very rude of him to come right know when I have Tristan in his deep thoughtfulness, but it cannot be helped I suppose. "Arthur wants you."

Tristan nods and winks at me as he leaves. "Think about it," he says.

I stare blankly back at him. Think about what? He laughs at my confusion as he goes.

"Arthur suggests that you get back in the cart," Lancelot says.

I look at the dark knight. He seems agitated. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Not one for words, are you?"

"No." He glares at me.

"What?" I ask.

"What is it with you?"

"What?"

"Why is it that everyone seems to be all taken with you?"

"If I knew that, I would have stopped doing it." I get the sense that Lancelot doesn't like me.

"Arthur, Gawain, Tristan, Galahad, that Roman guard, the Roman boy, and even Bors is beginning to like you. I don't understand it."

"Neither do I. I could live without the Romans and Gawain's affection. I just don't know how to loose it."

"You're one of those women who come in and break up men's friendships."

I laugh. "Me? That's funny. No, I'm not. Besides, I think Arthur and I are more brother and sister like; Arthur is rather fond of the Woad woman. Tristan is the only person that makes sense now days. The others, I really don't want their attentions."

"Just make it all stop."

"I'm trying. What do you expect me to do?"

"Pick one of them and get it over with." I look at Lancelot, he is completely serious. I don't know what I did to get under his skin, but Lancelot seems to dislike me very much.

"Do you think I'm playing hard to get?" I ask, insulted.

"Yes."

I shake my head. "I…I…" I am at a lost for words.

"You've played your little game, know choose a man and get it over with. Might I advise Tristan since you two seem to be getting along so well."

"Haven't you heard anything I've just said? I don't want a man. I'm confused enough as it is."

"Women," Lancelot shakes his head in disgust. I am beginning not to like him very much.

"What is your problem with me?" I ask.

"I just don't…."

"You don't what? Like me? Is there a reason to why you don't like me?"

"Because you are one of them. You're a Roman and one of them who keep people like us here."

I gawk at him. "What? Have you not been seeing what I've been seeing? The people you classify me with sent me here knowing full well what they were sending me to. They did it out of spite because my father challenged their authority and threatened their very lifestyle. I would give anything to have things be fair. I wish that I could be back home with my parents as it once was, during the time when I was innocent to the evils of man. I wish that people like you were not forced to fight for a cause and land that is not yours. If I could, I would right all of the injustices of the world, but I can't."

"So you say."

"Don't you trust anyone?"

"No." He glares at me. I meet his glare. There's something else behind his behavior, and I don't think it has anything to do with me.

"You're not mad at me are you? You're mad about something else."

He looks shocked for a moment, a very brief moment. "No."

I sigh. It is very obvious that I'm not going to get anywhere with Lancelot. "Are you finished?" He does not answer me, so I walk back to the cart. Once I'm inside, I look outside to see Lancelot still where I left him, wearing a bemused expression on his face. I smile. Confusion seems to be my lot lately.