Chapter 3: Mistakes
Tristan was deep in thought. When he did so, everything happening around him was blocked out, and it was a handy skill. He needed to concentrate now.
He thought of the woman- the girl, rather, she hardly looked like a woman. She was a pretty thing, with typical long brown hair but piercing blue eyes. They were exceptional eyes. They were very clear, resembling a calm, clean lake, and it seemed that you could see the depths of her soul through the blue. But water could be deceptive. You never know how deep it was until you walk into it. Strangely, Tristan was able to relate this to her eyes. They seemed, felt deceptive. He sensed dishonesty in her.
Why? She was a village girl, there was no doubt about that. There was none other she could be. Her dress was a bit different to those he saw other women wear, cleaner and a bit too flimsy for the blistering cold. But the villagers were poor, and most did not have enough clothing to defend themselves against the harsh journey ahead. Many would die, but it would be better to die in the cold than in the hands of Saxons.
Saxons. An entire army was coming from the north, headed straight for the fort. He had seen them with his own eyes. A few more hours and they would be here, and nothing would be left but ashes and corpses.
A small feeling of panic was aroused in his heart. He shook his head and turned his thoughts back to the girl. What about her? What had she said?
'But there are mountains, my father will not make it.'
There was something wrong here. These words kept tugging at his heart, as if teasing him. He furrowed his brow in concentration. The answer was there in his head, he could feel it, he just could not put a finger on it.
"Stop what you're doing!"
The sudden yell disturbed Tristan's silent contemplation. His eyes focused to see the Roman barging into the scene, flinging an accusing finger at Arthur. A young woman, badly beaten and underfed, was lying on the ground, the Roman wife by her side. Dagonet had a weak boy in his arms, who looked surprisingly unafraid of the giant.
Arthur was now yelling at the Roman, furious. But the scout was in no mood for drama, with his head full and the Saxons just on their tail. Once again, he shut out all surrounding noises. He subconsciously swept his gaze across the white trees behind them, and stopped at a suspicious hole in a mass of bushes.
He nudged his horse into a canter and dismounted at the edge of the woods. He knelt down and studied the broken branches and tracks that had not been swept away by the wind in the protection of the trees. He walked inside the cover of trees and picked out a line of light tracks in the snow. It stopped at a tree, and he looked up at its tall branches. A broad branch sat at a convenient height, and would have bore a person easily. He ran a hand over the trunk, and felt unnatural bumps under his sensitive fingers.
He tilted his head skywards again. He had seen the hawk hovering about here. He took a step forward and felt something crunch under his feet which sounded like a dry leaf. He brushed away a thin layer of snow to reveal a piece of torn parchment. He picked it up and frowned at a smudge of ink. He brought it close to his eyes then away, trying to make out the vague shape of a word.
A brief and precious ray of afternoon sunlight broke through the thick clouds, and Tristan quickly lifted the piece of paper to the light. The illumination disclosed Saxon symbols, and a single but important word- South.
Arthur had his sword on the Roman's neck when Tristan galloped back to his side, breathing heavily.
"Arthur!" he cried, reining his horse to a halt.
"What is it?" he asked, lifting Excalibur from the man's neck.
"We can't head South," said Tristan urgently. "We have to go into the mountains in the East."
"What?" Arthur was at a loss of what to say, mostly at the news but partly at the scout's unusual alarm.
"Just get them to the East, I'll catch up with you," Tristan said and galloped off to rescue the villagers who had already headed South, and possibly to their deaths.
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Abigail picked her path carefully, steering her horse skillfully to avoid sharp branches and pointed stones emerging from the snow. She had sent the message to Cedric about half an hour ago, and he should have received it by now.
It was the Saxons' plan to destroy the Roman fort, then Cynric would lead his light (and useless) infantry to cut off the Romans' escape to the South so as to get the ransom to cover the costs of the campaign. On the other hand, Cedric would lead the main army straight towards Badon Hill, provided that they did not lose their way in the process.
Cynric's infantry would move along a trail Abigail had found a few days ago, a shortcut that would lead them directly to a main southern road. It would be easy to trap and capture the precious Roman family, with thick woods on either side, providing no means of escape. The only problem was Arthur and his knights, but it should not prove to be too difficult. They were only seven to two hundred after all.
The landscape was sloping downhill slightly, and she reined her horse to a halt. She stared down at the flatland and frowned. Where were the mountains? She could see a group of villagers huddled together against the fierce winds some distance ahead of her, but she could see no mountains.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that she might have made a mistake. Panicking, she dismounted her horse and climbed shakily onto the nearest tree, and gazed down the wide, flat path southwards. Then she looked to the East, and saw a range of high mountains, and a group of small moving black dots.
She gasped exasperatedly and slapped herself on the forehead. She had made a mistake. A huge mistake. She had mistaken East for South.
'But there are mountains, my father will not make it.'
The Sarmatian scout's intelligent face floated into her mind. He would realize her mistake. She had given the Saxons' plan away, and she would pay for it.
Just then, a galloping grey horse loomed into sight. Abigail recognized it as the scout's horse. Indeed, she saw his rugged figure hunched over the stallion's neck as they neared, and she watched as they dashed ahead to the villagers.
She got off the tree quietly and mounted her horse. She had to report to the Saxons about her blunder now, she silently hoped that it would not be too painful.
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Hey! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! I hope it isn't too confusing, Abigail's blunder is actually MY blunder, I thought they escaped to the south in the movie lol. I hope it adds a twist to the plot! And a bit more of Tristan this chapter, I hope he sounds like the awesome scout he is.
Thanks for another seven reviews! This is really encouraging :D Thanks a lot everyone! Here are some shout-outs for you:
Punk monkey: I'm glad you like this story! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
KnightMaiden: Thanks for your sweet comments! -hugs- Lol, I know, he is THE trouble maker xD
BornWithAFever: I'm glad you think it's good! Hope you liked the update!
BillieJoe is effin sexy0: Lol don't worry, maybe it wasn't THAT obvious yet xD It will be obvious soon. Yup, I promise! Hehe, glad school wasn't that bad! School starts for me tomorrow, I'm praying it's not going to be hell! Thanks for reviewing!
Mysticpig: Yes, I will change the story, it'll be sooo boring if I follow the same story line, don't you think so:) I hope you liked ch.3!
Kasora: Aww -pats back and hands tissues- I'm glad you think it's beautiful! It's quite a compliment:D Lol, remember to tell me! Ah, I know, Saxons SUCK. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
BeautifulFirestone: Hmm, sorry that you don't like the name. I picked it out from a list of British names in the Victorian period and I thought it stands out. Maybe you can get used to it:)
School starts for me tomorrow, but I think I can update this weekend. I really enjoy writing this story lol! Please review and I'll write faster xD Bye!
