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It was to be a long afternoon. Charlotte returned as promised with an armful of rags and two blankets that she had obviously ripped from her bed. At Dagonet's request both she and Llynya set to work tearing the cloth into bandages and boiling pans of water when asked, glad of something helpful to do, no matter how small. Louisa slid into the tavern, as slender and graceful as Lark who followed at her heels, the dog obviously well aware of the food the woman carried in her arms. She managed to produce a rich soup in almost no time at all, helped by two of the village women who dished it out and offered it to the grateful knights with shy smiles and downcast eyes. After a brief conversation with Arthur, Tom had left to make sure Galahad and Bors had nothing to report, leaving a happily settled Lark curled next to the two girls with a discarded ox bone which she proceeded to demolish with a glee that was utterly at odds to the general mood.
Llynya stroked the lurcher's fur idly and smiled at Tom as he left. Gawain was engaged in conversation with Arthur, and from what she could read of their body language both men were extremely tense - not that she could blame them for it. Two knights down? She could hardly believe it, not after seeing them in battle. Dagonet had tossed the arrow he had removed from Tristan's shoulder into the corner, and she had picked it up with a curiosity that had swiftly turned to confusion. The arrow was well made, but it did not bear the runic symbols that the Woads usually chose to carve into their arrows as a way ofsigning their kills. Gawain had told her that they had seen the beast and been attacked by it, but who then had wielded the bow that had injured Tristan? Who other than Woads would dare to attack knights that fought for Rome? Charlotte merely shrugged when shown the arrow, her attention obviously held by the limp form of Lancelot that lay upon the table in the centre of the tavern. His face was calm, almost as though he was sleeping rather than unconscious, long lashes resting upon high cheekbones, the wicked dark eyes hidden.
"Do you think that he.. they will be alright?" Charlotte whispered, "there seems to be an awful lot of blood."
Llynya shrugged and glanced at her companion. The blonde girl was pale, her lower lip swollen from the countless times she had bitten it as Dagonet tended his wounded companions. When the big knight had re-set Lancelot's dislocated shoulder Charlotte had yelped herself, and Llynya wondered whether this was due to squeamishness or genuine concern for the dark knight. Certainly for someone who had acted with such initial animosity towards him she seemed terrified that he might not survive his injuries. "They are strong," she said finally, "and Dagonet is a good healer. I'm sure they will be fine."
It was in part true. Tristan was already sitting up on the table which had doubled as a makeshift bed, his shoulder heavily bandaged and his usual aloof manner obviously in no waysoftened by recent events. Llynya had given him a tentative smile when she had offered him water, but had quailed a little when his dark eyes flashed towards her. Even injured there was a strange deadly stillness in the way he watched the other knights, and she muttered a thanks to the goddess that they were both on the same side. Lancelot had fared less well. His shoulder had been tended to, but he had broken several ribs and received a nasty gash when his horse had crashed down upon him, although as Arthur had pointed out, the unfortunate animal had most likely provided a shield between him and the beast. He had not yet regained consciousness, something that was obviously worrying Dagonet.
The big knight looked over at the two girls, noting their concern. They had been a great help and weary as he was, it was nice to have their company; their soft words and worried eyes even calming Tristan a little, although he was by no means certain that they could persuade the scout to surrender to the rest he so badly needed.
"Charlotte?" She looked up startled at the summons, before scrambling to her feet and walking over to Dagonet.
"Sir?" she asked politely, her eyes sliding from the intimidating knight to his unconscious companion. "Was there, is there anything you need?"
"Only your time." He smiled a little at the worry in Charlotte's eyes: since they had come to the village Lancelot had muttered darkly about a blonde she-devil with a regularity that suggested his preoccupation was not as antagonistic as he would have others believe. Looking at the pretty, if pale, girl before him, Dagonet was inclined to see why. "I have done all I can for Lancelot, would you sit with him while I speak with Arthur?"
Charlotte nodded at him, her eyes wide, " I will. I'll take care, I mean I'll…" Her words tumbled out and she quickly fell silent. Really, for someone who prided themselves on their sharp tongue she was turning into a babbling idiot awfully quickly, she thought uneasily.
Dagonet smiled, his amusement transforming his stern features, and patted her gently on the shoulder, almost knocking her down in the process. "Thank-you." Nodding at Llynya who had got to her feet and was stretching her aching muscles, he made his way over to his commander.
"So Dagonet's put you in charge of the wolf?" Wandering over to her friend, Llynya's eyes gleamed mischievously. "It must be a terrible chore to look after someone you dislike - if you want I could take over."
Charlotte felt an unwelcome prickle of annoyance at the suggestion. "I am quite capable of keeping an eye on him," she replied tartly. "You already have one knight, perhaps you should be looking after him."
Llynya laughed and glanced over at Gawain who was watching them with weary amusement. "Don't worry, I intend to." Brushing an affectionate hand through Charlotte's hair, she gave her a wink and made her way over to the blond knight. The two of them whispered together before leaving the tavern, Gawain's amused blue eyes flicking between Lancelot and his guardian and studiously ignored by Charlotte, whose cheeks flushed despite her show of indifference.
"Charlotte seems to have changed her mind regarding Lancelot," Gawain remarked as he led Llynya through the tavern door and kicked it shut behind them. "I'm not sure which of them I feel sorrier for."
Llynya shook her head and stifled a yawn, "I think they are rather well matched myself."
"For battle perhaps," Gawain snorted. Looking down at the woman beside him, he smiled. "You did well today, I'm not much good when it comes to healing - Dagonet was grateful for your help."
Giving him an incredulous look, Llynya stifled a laugh. "you and the knights go out hunting a tiger and you are praising me for ripping up cloth for bandages? I did precious little of use as you are well aware, and what little I did to help is insignificant when compared to what you and your brothers have done for me."
"There is no need to thank me Llynya, you know that." Rubbing a hand through his hair he looked at her regretfully. "I thought that you'd be safe here - you'd probably have been better off in the forest where Tom found you."
Llynya shrugged and let go of his hand. The forest was a not a recollection she was keen to re-visit, for the forest led to the village, and the village led to Beth and her family and a dozen other memories that she had managed to shove into a box in her mind until she was willing to face them. "You are not to blame, either way I would have faced danger, at least I am not alone here."
Gawain opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything a shout rang out behind them. Turning, both he and Llynya saw Galahad canter into the courtyard, slightly out of breath, his curls sweaty and dishevelled.
"Come on," he said taking in the scene with amusement. "Time to play spot the beastie with Bors. He's been boring the arse of me for the past few hours, now it's your turn. Just because Tris and Lance get to be looked after by that little blonde doesn't mean you can sneak off with Llynya."
"One more word out of you and female company will be the last thing of any interest or use to you," Gawain growled. Kissing Llynya on the forehead, he looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I have to go."
She nodded in understanding and gave a half-smile. "Go. I'll be here when you return."
"Good. There are things I should have said.." Glancing at Galahad who was unabashedly watching them, he fell silent and let her go. "Stay close to the tavern and the other knights," he warned, "any trouble then find Dagonet, Arthur or even him," he said jerking his head towards the young knight unenthusiastically.
"Alright." Llynya watched the interaction between the two knights with amusement, reluctant as she was to let Gawain go, she knew full well that neither he or she had a choice in the matter. "Be careful."
Gawain looked back at her and smiled. Passing Galahad, he patted his horse affectionately before looking up at it's rider. "Keep an eye on her," pausing, he amended that request, "just your eyes."
The younger knight nodded, sliding off his horse and clapping his friend on the shoulder as he went to find his own mount.
Llynya watched as Galahad unbuckled his saddle, and although she knew it wasn't a good idea to wander off, she made her way to the barn that had sheltered the villagers beneath the floor. In a moment she would return to the tavern, but it was nice to have even a few moments to herself. Wryly she thought about her life only a few short weeks ago. That had been a world of solitude, only intruded upon by some of the villagers and the animals she kept. Now look at her - there had been barely a moment to breathe between one event and another. She was so preoccupied that it took her a moment to realise that she was not alone in the barn. In the far corner a person huddled, sobbing like a child but far too big to be one. A little uncertainly she rose to her feet. She shouldn't really be here, she shouldn't approach someone she didn't know and who would most likely resent her intrusion. Looking towards the doorway, she briefly fought and lost an inner battle.
"Hello?" she asked, tentatively aproaching the shadows, "are you alright?"
The figure unfurled itself from the darkness, and Llynya recognised Balan's face as he came into the light. His eyes were swollen from crying and his smooth skin furrowed with worry.
"You're that girl aren't you? The one that came with the Romans?" He looked at her in confusion.
Llynya nodded, "I am. Is there something I can do? Why are you crying?"
"Got to see the knights, got to explain. He doesn't mean it see - if he knew they were Roman then he wouldn't have…"
"I don't understand," Llynya looked at the man in consternation. "Who doesn't mean what? Are you talking about the attack today? Do you know who shot Tristan?"
"He didn't, he wouldn't." Childlike as Balan usually seemed, he was nonetheless a big man, and Llynya took a step backwards almost without thinking. "You ask Dynadan about Shona, you ask him about Caradoc and the fort." He was almost shouting now, and Llynya backed away, well aware that he was quite capable of snapping her neck before help would arrive. "You ask him about Tauleas.." the fight seemed to drain out of him suddenly, and Llynya hesitated.
"Tauleas? You mean the Roman boy?" Stepping a little closer she noticed the tears running down the big man's cheeks and tentatively touched his arm. "But he's dead isn't he? At the meeting, they said he and everyone else at the fort were killed."
"You ask them. You ask all of them - ask them why." Looking down at the hand resting on his arm, Balan removed it with a gentleness that belied his huge frame. "You ask them why the Woads leave them alone and why they killed Caradoc."
"But.." Llynya tried to make sense of what he had said, before almost jumping out of her skin when Galahad called her name. Balan took one look at the knight and loped off, glancing back at Najila and disappearing into the orchard with an ease that Lark would envy.
"What are you doing talking to that half-wit?" Galahad watched Balan disappear into the undergrowth with confusion. "Didn't think he was the type to provide interesting conversation." Stepping into the barn, he wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, "what did he have to say for himself?"
"I'm not sure," Llynya said slowly, "but if you want to rid the village of the beast then it's best we find out."
Charlotte shifted uncomfortably on the hard surface of the wooden table. Beside her Lancelot lay quietly, his chest swathed in bandages, his breathing slow and steady. It wasn't as though she actually cared about him, she told herself sternly. He and the other knights were helping the village, and she was part of the village so she was only doing her duty. It wasn't like she… His eyes fluttered open and she gave a small squeak of alarm, almost falling off the table in the process.
"Lancelot?" uncertain as to what to do, she ended up giving him a rather unladylike poke to his uninjured shoulder.
"Charlotte?" Lancelot squinted as the light assailed his eyes, and it took a moment before he could focus on the girl beside him. "The tiger, my brothers - are they safe, is the village…" Attempting to push himself up, he was somewhat startled when the young blonde girl looked at him sternly and pushed him back down gently.
"None of that please. Dagonet has only just finished stitching you up - it would be a shame to ruin such fine handiwork." At her glare he sighed and settled back down. "Your brothers. I mean the knights, I mean…" She sighed and inwardly rolled her eyes at her uncharacteristic nervousness, taking a deep breath, she continued. "Tristan was injured, but Dagonet says he'll be fine. No-one else was hurt. The beast got away - beyond that I know as little as you do."
Lancelot relaxed slightly, sinking into the pillow that lay behind him. His body might ache and protest at each movement, but it had been the barely suppressed panic at losing yet another friend that had been foremost in his thoughts as soon as he awakened. With a shiver he remembered the blur of fur and teeth that had seemingly come out of no-where and dragged both he and his mount to the ground. "My horse," he asked dully, "what happened to my horse?"
"I'm sorry," Charlotte said awkwardly, "I don't think it survived." As the dark knight's eyes closed in sorrow she put a tentative hand upon his shoulder. She had seen how well cared for the knights' mounts were and admired the beautiful animals. If you were a slave to duty then you took good care of whatever liberties afforded you, she supposed.
Lancelot nodded and brushed her fingers, almost without realising what he was doing. As she pulled her hand away, he looked at her meditatively. "I did not know that you were a healer Charlotte. How many other talents are you hiding from me?"
"None that would be of any interest to you," she said tartly. A little embarrassed, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and said boldly, "what makes you so sure that I'm not skilled in healing anyway?" Stepping backwards, she knocked into the small table that held a collection of bandages and a bowl of warm water. Lancelot raised an eyebrow as several bandages rolled off the table and a good quantity of water sloshed onto the floor, but said nothing. Charlotte flushed but remained defiant. "I helped Daisy when she was birthing, and Dickon himself said she'd have died if it wasn't for me."
"Then I apologise." Lancelot attempted to sit up and stifled a wince. "Daisy and her child were lucky to have you attend them - especially given your gentle bedside manner."
"That they were." Charlotte ignored the sarcasm of his last comment and folded her arms across her chest smugly. "Four born and not a runt among them."
"Four?" asked Lancelot weakly, images of Vanora and her countless offspring flashing through his mind. "Why didn't Dickon run to the hil.. I mean how did he welcome such a blessing?"
"Right proud he was," Charlotte said, bending down to collect the fallen bandages. "He got nine coins apiece for them too - most only go for seven."
"He sold them?" Lancelot noted the triumph on the girl's face and was momentarily rendered speechless. They sold their children? On the other side of the room Dagonet winked at him before wandering off towards the kitchen, and Lancelot fought back the desire to call out to him. If the people of this village sold their children at market then the gods only knew what else they were capable of.
"Of course he did." Charlotte gave him an incredulous look. "How's he supposed to feed all of them when they get older? It's not like there's room for them anyway."
"Perhaps he could build an extra couple of rooms…" Lancelot suggested faintly. It was strange enough to have exotic animals roaming the countryside - discovering that the villagers treated their children as commodities was almost worse.
Charlotte blinked at him in disbelief. "You would have people share their homes with pigs?" Placing the newly folded bandages back on the table, she glanced at him as though she couldn't quite believe what he had said. "You must come from a barbaric county," she finally muttered almost under her breath, "we are not so heathen in these parts."
"Pigs?" His mind whirling, Lancelot realised his mistake and would have burst out laughing had his ribs not protested as soon as he started to shake with amusement. "Pigs. Of course - I thought you meant… I'm sorry Charlotte, I was mistaken."
The young woman looked at the man attempting to hold back his laughter in utter confusion. "Mistaken? What did you think I spoke of?" Lancelot refused to meet her eyes, and realisation suddenly dawned. "You didn't think… not children?"
Lancelot gave her an apologetic smile; a smile that had loosened many a garter back at Hadrians Wall and which was for once ignored.
"What sort of people do you think we are?" Charlotte asked incredulously. "Selling children?" She harrumphed in annoyance and looked at the knight -the half-naked knight - with as much bravado as she could muster, trying valiantly not to let her eyes wander. "We might not hold with all that Roman pomp and nonsense, but we're not…" she struggled for a moment to find a word that would adequately embody her disgust, "Saxons," she spat finally.
"I'm sorry. " Lancelot felt exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him and struggled to keep his eyes open. "I didn't mean to… I mean.." He had slipped back into unconsciousness before the apology was fully formed. Charlotte looked at him for a moment, torn between outrage and amusement, before pulling the blanket back over him and curling up to wait until he next awakened.
A/N Hmm, this chapter changes POV quite a few times - something I don't usually do. I hope it didn't get too confusing. Thanks for making this half-way readable Carrie : ) As ever thanks to my lovely reviewers, I hope I replied to you all (and thanks phia - sorry for the long wait before) please feed the author lol!