Chapter 6
A few days later saw the knights riding out on a mission. They were to escort a trail of goods back to the fort, and as such would have to wait in the port of Dover for a few days before the caravan would be ready to travel. It was an easy job for the knights, one that they relished, especially as they so often received missions which resulted in them staying out in the cold and wet for weeks on end. This travel had the promise of a warm bed at either end, although the weather throughout the long trek did not seem so promising.
What it did mean though, was that they would be missing Celene's birthday. Not for once was a few of them glad of the gap, as they would be able to have presents. Celene herself had never had big birthdays, instead preferring to have family and friends for a meal, a drink and such other things as occasions like that brought. The meal had been postponed until the knights came back full of new stories to tell and share of a cup of ale, or in the case of more than a few, a fair few cups of ale.
For Celene it would be a few weeks of peace. The coughing fit had died down as soon as it came, due in no small part to her tender care of everyone. So she had taken to helping Vanora with the children and sitting quietly in the evenings sharing a cup of mulled wine with her older friend. They would often discuss things whilst picking over some small job or other, at the moment Celene was mostly occupied with sewing, as she was repairing the blankets and sheets of the infirmary.
Soon she would go and get some wool before carding, spinning and weaving it into blankets to replace some of the ones in the infirmary. She would also be making or buying some gifts for the winter solstice, and in Arthur's case Christmas. The small amount she earned as healer she scrimped and saved for such seasons as this one. She would also much prefer to save for a few more comforts in the winter months, than spend it all on keeping up with the fashions.
Like true women Vanora and Celene did tend to lean towards idle gossip. They would talk about everything and nothing, the weather, the fashions, the children and the knights. They even came onto the subject of sweethearts a few times, which made Celene blush under Vanora's gentle teasing that such a girl as herself should have been no stranger to handsome men courting her and asking her for her hand. It was with many blushes that Celene admitted she had been courted many a time, but never had she loved one enough to let them ask for her hand.
And still the days passed and soon Celene was onto carding the wool. The work even bled into her daytime, so engrossed was she in it, and with no other occupation on her mind she saw fit to get it sorted out now. So she sat around with Vanora's children running around her feet. Soon enough she settled down to the spinning and even that job drew to a close. Then Celene found herself at a slight loose end. She knew the knights were due home soon and settled down to wait, but patience had never been one of her strong suits.
So she took to roaming out on walks. These ones she had long enjoyed and knew that people would object to her going out alone on her own, with the threat of woads and everything. She found nothing though on her walks, most of which were cut brutally short by the quickly advancing winter weather. All too soon it would be time to find work or employ around the place which you lived or were employed in, fenced in by the harsh winter weather.
Soon enough the call of "knights" was heard ringing out in every corner of the fort. Celene looked up from the small bit of sewing that she had decided to do, after checking the latest batch of laundry for the infirmary and seeing how much of it needed repairing. She still retained her decorum as she placed down the sheet and stood. Only once she had thrown her cloak on did she allow herself to run to the courtyard where her father and the other knights were just arriving.
"Father. It's so good to see you home safely." Celene embraced her father warmly.
"It's good to be home." Bedwyr embraced his daughter back with all the fervour he had before his wife's death.
"And what has been keeping our little firefly busy since we have gone?" Perceval swept down for a hug and Celene planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Woman's work, nothing that would interest such great knights as yourselves." Celene answered tartly, a small smile on her face.
"You should have more respect for your elders." Percival pretended to be angry and faked a swipe at Celene's head.
"Good Sir Knight, protect from the evil of my wicked uncle." Celene cried playfully hiding behind Gawain.
"I shall fight till the death to protect your honour fair lady, never fear." Gawain answered, earning a snort from Lancelot.
"I am sure it is I whose help you should be soliciting fair maiden, I am the better fighter." Lancelot bowed over Celene's hand.
"I see that I shall have to fight two knaves to punish my wicked niece." Percival stepped forward, a smile on his face.
"Enough, enough uncle. I hope you could spare me my punishment?" Celene asked jokingly.
"Well forsooth the fair lady has declared herself beaten…" Percival pretended to think.
"I have not indeed uncle; I have just declared a truce for now." Celene replied offended.
"I shall think of a fair punishment for my even fairer niece." Percival bowed.
"And I shall be fair on my uncle and shall await his punishment." Celene curtsied, whilst smiling.
"Come along then dearest, your late birthday awaits." Bedwyr began to lead his daughter, with the knights in tow.
"Father, why on earth would my birthday involve me spending time in the stables?" Celene queried as she recognised the route.
"All shall be revealed." Bedwyr answered cryptically.
And all was revealed as a gentle chestnut brown horse put its head over the stall which had recently been empty since Celene's last horse had died. The horse whickered gently as Celene stepped forward, an apple held out that had been placed in her hand by her father. As she held the horse out the horse gently reached and plucked the apple from where it rested. Celene then reached out a hand and the horse allowed her to rub its nose.
"It's beautiful." Celene turned to her father, a small smile on her face.
"Well she's yours to name." Bedwyr smiled at his daughter's reaction.
"I'll name her… Kalita." Celene answered after a few moments.
"Well the new tack is my present to my niece, although I cannot see why such a wicked woman as she deserves such a present." Perceval tried to look serious, until Celene flew into his arms and gave him a large kiss on the cheek.
"I love it, and I love Kalita." Celene turned to her father and gave him a large hug.
Bedwyr smiled down at his daughter. What he saw now he hadn't seen throughout all his blackest months, that Celene was beautiful. No she was not one of those perfectly beautiful women who were sung about in legends; something about her seemed too real, too human for her to be that beautiful. But still she had a beautiful heart, and would never leave someone if they were in need and she could use everything she had to stop their suffering.
"Come on father, everyone's determined to give me a toast." Celene pulled at her father's hand.
"I'll be along in a minute love, you go on ahead, and you don't want to waste your whole life waiting for someone as old as me." Bedwyr waved off his daughter. Percival stayed behind, looking quizzically at his old friend.
"What the matter old friend?" Percival asked.
"I'm going to talk to someone." Bedwyr walked off in the direction of the cemetery.
Percival looked after his friend and sighed heavily. He knew who his friend was going to talk to, and he hoped that finally Bedwyr would find some peace. He had begun to lay the past behind him, and would have to carry on, with the help of all the younger knights and especially his daughter. Percival noted that Celene had learnt a lot about loss, and she had come out of it all, no less harmed by it than when she had entered it. Now she could be considered a woman, and she knew of women's troubles, to bear the deaths of their loved ones, and mourn them forever.
Celene meanwhile sat in the tavern, laughing at the antics of the knights. They were her family, and had always been. She had grown up around the fort, in the shadow of her father, and now she was in the shadow of the great knights of her generation. She had still grown strong and flourished; she saw no reason to be cowed by her peers. Instead she laughed and joked alongside them, as much a figure of the fort as they were.
Percival entered the tavern and smiled down at the woman he considered to be a niece as she sat and watched as Galahad engaged Gawain in a knife throwing contest, just as a joke. Celene looked to her uncle in despair, perhaps what she knew about the knights better than they did, was that they would always turn something into a competition. Growing up as she did had taught her that. Percival just shrugged before getting a glass of ale and joining her.
"Who's gonna win?" Percival asked Celene.
"I don't know. Gawain has the more experience, but Galahad has been practising since the last time." Celene pondered watching the contest.
"I put my money on Gawain." Lancelot sauntered across to press another drink into Celene's hand.
"I'm going to say Galahad then." Celene smiled as she accepted the drink.
"What does the winner get?" Lancelot enquired slyly.
"If you win, dear sir I will get you a drink." Celene added, "Although you're hardly likely to win"
"What cheek from one so young." Lancelot exclaimed pretending to be hurt.
"Shut up and watch." Celene hissed.
Lancelot stood next to Celene, sitting easily on the edge of the table. It soon became clear that Gawain was going to be the winner, and Lancelot was beginning to look forward to his drink. Turning to Celene he saw her smiling, the queer girl! She must have known she was going to loose at some point, that was just going to be sooner rather than later. She seemed not to know it, and it would be so impolite of him to point out to a lady that she was going to loose.
Just as Lancelot thought he had won Tristan took his knife and aimed, winning the game easily with a single throw. Celene's laughter could be heard ringing out as she looked at the incredulous look on Lancelot's face. She had known that was going to happen, it always did when someone was throwing knives and Tristan was around. The winner of the bout had now returned to his quiet corner, silently eating his apple whilst watching what was going on around him.
Just as Bedwyr had joined the party the clatter of hooves could be heard ringing from the courtyard. This excited more than a little curiosity, but no one was willing to leave the company to find out what it was. They knew they would soon find out, Arthur was due to join the party at any moment, and then he would bring news. No one else would think of talking to, what they considered to be, Sarmatian dogs.
Arthur soon entered, and his face was grave, a frown was present on his features. Celene, Bedwyr and Percival were the first to notice this, as they were the most sober. Celene stood a concerned look on her face. This turned to one of alarm as someone else entered behind Arthur. She turned and placed her drink on the table, all thoughts of merriment forgotten for the moment. Soon enough the other knights picked up and soon all were clustered around Arthur, waiting for news.
"Men, this is Kay. He and the rest of his knights were sent to aid us here, but they got into a little trouble on the way." Arthur explained.
"Geraint was injured severely." The man introduced as Kay answered.
"I don't need to know his name just that he's wounded." Celene answered, pausing to kiss both her father and Percival on the cheek before running off in the direction of the infirmary.
As she skidded into the long room she saw a group of men sitting around on the beds. All were wounded, some to more degrees of severity than the others. Lying on the bed nearest her was a man who looked as pale as death. His hand was holding on to a piece of cloth which when Celene lifted she discovered was bleeding and already showed the beginnings of becoming infected.
The stench and sight of the wound sent Celene roiling. She prided herself on being able to take whatever came her way, and she normally managed it. What she had just seen shocked even her; she did have some sensibilities as a woman, although she often had to quash them in her work. Now though, for a while she was content with them as they allowed her to get a few moments of respite before she got back to work.
Whilst she was waiting to collect her nerve she looked to the man lying on the bed. He was young and had pale blonde hair which fell around his face. His fringe flopped over a pair of wary blue eyes, which were watching Celene's every move, even as she slipped into her worker's white apron and tied it behind her. He watched her as she performed the same office for her hair, securing it behind her. He looked to her as if to say that he would not be treated by a woman.
"Not her, where's the healer?" Geraint managed to gasp.
"You're looking at her, and if you want to stay alive I suggest you let me do my job." Celene said, pulling away the flimsy dressing perhaps a bit more forcefully than was necessary, which resulted in Geraint flinching away.
"Women have no place…" Geraint grumbled through gritted teeth.
"Well can I at least clean and cauterise this wound, before stitching it and adding a salve which will help it clear?" Celene asked angrily.
"He's not used to a…woman being a healer." Another one of the men spoke up.
"Well he'll have to get used to it." Celene answered.
"I don't see why he should have to, a woman's place in the home." The same man replied.
"Oh indeed is it? And may I say this is my home, so I am in exactly the right place, and now I suggest you can go and get Dagonet, go down and ask for him in the tavern and tell him I need his help." Celene ordered.
"Do it yourself." The man tossed back.
"Mordred." Kay warned.
"I can't go I'm busy, and I want you out of the way whilst I do my work. And once you've fetched Dagonet you do not set foot in this room again ever. Do I make myself clear?" Celene asked.
"Crystal. And anyway I don't see why I should have been sent here, to where women are left to do a man's work." Mordred walked out with a derogatory sniff.
Celene took a few deep calming breaths before going about her work. She did it quickly and efficiently, trying to cause the least pain to the patient lying under her patient hands. What soon became apparent to all the men, even those who had been sceptical about her, was that she really did care for anyone who was injured, whether they doubted her skills or not. Soon enough Dagonet came in and tended to those with minor wounds, but some hardly noticed, so entranced were they in watching Celene.
Once she had finished she turned away from the sick man, who had fallen asleep under her gently hands. She smiled and stroked his forehead, and was pleased to see there was no sign of a fever. Satisfied she turned back again to the other knights who were in the room. Nodding to herself she counted all of them up, and was glad to see that the one called Mordred had not reappeared.
"Well gentlemen, I suggest you all go down to the tavern and have a drink," Celene suggested.
"You're supposed to be celebrating your birthday," Dagonet admonished as the last new man filed out. "Work comes before play. And besides, why would I want to celebrate getting yet another year older?" Celene asked a small smile on her face.
"You're only twenty one," Dagonet admonished gently.
"There's no need to remind me, I am well aware of how old I am," Celene sighed as she pushed Dagonet out the door, "Raise a toast for me if you must, but I will stay with Geraint"
"I see your mind is made up," Dagonet said as he walked out the door.
"It is, but there's really no need for you to worry, I'll be fine," Celene shut the door to the infirmary.
Sighing she turned back to her patient. Satisfied he was still sleeping soundly she lit a few lamps, in case he should wake up. Feeling tired Celene settled down in one of the pallets, so she would be near Geraint if he should wake. As soon as her head touched the pillow she felt her eyes drooping, and she fell into the black abyss of sleep.
Author's note: Well here we are. I hope you have all enjoyed, and I would like to take the time to thank everyone who both reads and reviews; it does mean a lot to me.