Disclaimer: As before please, for the love of God, don't keep making me write it out people:O)
The poem that is the song San sings is my own.
All reviews, and constructive criticism, gratefully received – but no flaming please; and I will try to update regularly.
'Thoughts'
"Speech"
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
KING ARTHUR:
Fallen Knights Return
Chapter Four – Dragons and Songs
Two months later and Sandrina's cough was cured. The cure, she often felt, was worse than the ailment itself - the herbal drinks and salves that Merlin made, both tasted revolting and stank to high heaven. Even the drinks smelt of rotting vegetation and putrid water; but in the end, she had to admit, they did completely cure the nagging cough she'd had for so long.
Lancelot of course had plenty to say about it all. She was growing increasingly fond of him – he reminded her so much of Hunter, her brother, and she found herself drawn to him for that reason.
Their continual banter was the cause of much mirth amongst the other knights, and those who resided within the fort. They would often be seen trading insults across the compound; striding round the fort, children trailing in Sandrina's wake, as they swapped cutting remarks, even when sparring in the training arena they would still ensure they had enough breath left to insult each other.
He respected her fighting abilities too. She was a demon with her swords, and even worse with a bow; six arrows were the most he saw her let loose in one go - a graceful ark into the ground. Even Guinevere could only shoot three at a time.
He admitted he was growing as fond of her as she was of him; and enjoyed the fact that he could insult a woman who wouldn't take him seriously, and who also did not want to bed him.
At first that fact had baffled him; handsome, charming and with an easy sense of humour, women usually fell at his feet – except Sandrina.
But then he realised how much he missed his family, and that indeed she was like a sister to him. From that moment on, their relationship developed into a strong and loving bond that even true siblings would envy.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
She had agreed to work wherever they needed her, this week it was the tavern – next Arthur thought it might be the stables. He was uncomfortable asking, but she did not seem to mind; only glad to pay her, and the children's, way.
"So wench, I see you smell like a pig's arse again?" Lancelot asked mildly.
"Aye, dear Lancelot, the same as you do every day; but at least after tomorrow I will stink no more. Whereas you…." She tailed off meaningfully, collecting the empty tankards off his table.
Bors laughed uproariously, "San, bring me some ale!" he cried.
"Nay Bors, Vanora told me you are not to drink in the day!"
"Wench! Obey me!"
"Why should you be different? She never obeys any of us, not even Arthur most of the time!" Laughed Galahad, who was playing a game of knife throwing with Gawain; Tristan stood in a corner a smile ghosting his face at the friendly banter about him.
As Sandrina walked past grinning at them, her hand flicked out and her knife landed in the end of Galahad's.
All the knights fell silent; only one other could pull that same trick. "Tristan!" Shouted Galahad, spinning round expecting to see the scout "Oh, San!" He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice, before adding "Tristan is as annoying doing that…do you know how irritating that is?"
"Aye, and so strangely satisfying too!" she retrieved her knife.
"How do you…I mean, how does he…how do you both do that?" asked Gawain amazed.
"I aim for the middle" San replied matter-of-factly; using the same stance as Tristan would, to point.
She ambled back to the kitchen, leaving all the knights staring at Tristan open mouthed.
"Tristan, if you ever had a soul mate it is she!" said Gawain "I mean, did you see that!"
Tristan shrugged "we come from the same area of Sarmatia - it's not so strange" but he did allow himself a small smile.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
A short while later they all started to amble away from the tavern as Vanora shooed them out to clean up before the night time stint.
Of a sudden they could hear the light voice of Bethan lilting back from the kitchens, imploring her mother to sing "that song that makes us cry" for her and Lucan (who had long become inseparable).
They all stopped, and as one, including Vanora, started to make their way to the back. No one could resist trying to hear Sandrina sing - it was the one thing she had resolutely refused to do since her arrival.
Lancelot made a lot of noise about leaving, and encouraged the others to follow. All twigged quickly and there were a few moments of stamping feet and calls of "see you later" and "not if I see you first" before they stopped and crept back. Even Tristan was intrigued.
Arthur, who was passing with Guinevere and Merlin, stopped to see what on earth his knights were up to now.
Bethan was with her mother and had obviously persuaded her to give in, as Sandrina had thought everyone had left – except for Vanora, and she was sure her friend wouldn't give her away.
San looked around once to make sure that they were definitely alone, and then began to sing:
"A lonely soul walks on the earth,
Abandoned and alone.
A mind detached from those around,
A heart walled up in stone.
Can a soul survive the curse,
Of being set apart?
To live entirely by oneself,
To accept such a broken heart?
Ask not for arms to hold thee,
Nor heart to love thine own.
Merely accept the life you're dealt,
To simply be alone,
Alone,
Accept you are alone.
Her voice was strong and soulful, perfect for this sort of song and she sang with a heartfelt loneliness; a depth of isolation, that no one listening incredulously outside could grasp……except one.
Tristan's face was frozen into an impenetrable mask; but behind his blank eyes his soul cried with the little boy they heard quietly weeping in the kitchen. She could be singing about him, yet he knew from the tone and quiet desperation that she was singing of herself.
The voice of little Lucan, thick with tears, was heard "again, again San!"
"Why do you want me to sing you a song that makes you cry little man?" she laughed.
"Because it is such a lovely song, even if it does make me cry!"
Her light laugh, which was seldom heard outside of the children and the dogs, rang out again "alright little Lucan, I will sing it again. But I will not be held responsible if Dag wants to know why your eyes are red from crying! I don't want a telling off!"
"I'll fib; I'll tell father that I fell on my knee!" Dagonet froze, that was the first time he had heard Lucan call him that.
A big grin spread across his face as Bors slapped him on the back 'Father, eh? Father!" he whispered, earning him scowls from the rest of the assembled knights in case Sandrina heard.
They heard giggling "You must not lie to your father Luc, I doubt he would believe you anyway, you are such a brave boy usually…"
Dagonet nodded at this "aye, very brave…." Scowls from the others followed.
"Aye Mama, he's always very brave." Cooed Bethan.
"Got a little betrothal going there Dag!" hissed Bors with glee.
Gawain punched his arm…"SSSHHHH!"
"but it is probably best not to tell him that I was singing….he will either think that it must be awful to make you cry so, or it was a sad song and I'll never hear the end of it until I sing it to them….and I won't be doing that!"
"Why not?"
"Lancelot will never let me hear the end of it!"
All the knights as one looked accusingly at Lancelot, who shrugged his agreement "Well, I wouldn't" he grinned.
"SHHHH!" Gawain thumped him.
"Sing for us San, sing!" cried Lucan dancing round with Bethan.
"Alright, alright – but don't blame me if it makes you cry again!" and she began the song once more.
Her soulful voice soared through the words, each one striking Tristan to his core. He tried to reason it wasn't him she was singing about….but still….each line, each word might as well have been about him.
Did she know how this song twisted a knife in his soul? To know that it stripped away the lie he had carefully built up around himself over 15 years; that he liked to be alone, never dreamt of going home – liked to be the outsider, even amongst his closest friends?
The saddest thing of all, was he knew she was singing from her heart; it was bad enough to know this song summed up his life, but to know she had suffered so much too was cruel beyond words.
He looked round and found all the knights, including Arthur, Guinevere and Vanora wiping their eyes. But he knew it was to his soul, and his alone, she truly spoke.
His heart gave a lurch what was this woman doing to him? He had never let anyone affect him like this - even the other knights; though his friends and comrades, though he would lay down his life for them they never got to him in the way she, and her daughter for that matter, did.
Just then Bethan came running out with Lucan, as they all made to grab them Bethan cried "Mama! The knights were listening!"
A groan was followed by a red faced and sheepish Sandrina, who came out to rousing applause; except from Tristan who stood mutely by - eyes on the floor, clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"Say it!" She sighed, nodding her head at Lancelot.
"Say what?"
"Tell me how my singing made your ears bleed, or that my voice sounded like a cat being slowly skinned alive!"
"I could, and probably will at some point just to irritate you – but it wouldn't be the truth. You sang….you sang like one of Arthur's angels from his Heaven".
Sandrina threw a washcloth at him "flatterer! Now the truth, Knight! Or feel my dagger!"
At this all the knights thronged round her telling her how well she sang, Bors demanding she sing that 'damn thing' tonight amid general back slapping; his in particular nearly knocking her off her feet.
Lancelot merely rolled his eyes "We can't all be wrong, my dear Sandrina can we?"
Bethan pulled on Arthur's hand; she had long got used to the knights, and whilst still a little wary around the others in the fort; these men were now her trusted friends, Tristan being her well known and firm favourite of them all.
"Arthur, Mama can tell stories too….make her tell a story tonight if she won't sing. Make her tell the Big Black Dragon story, that's sad too – we make her tell it to us every night; we love that story."
Arthur looked at Sandrina "Is this true? Are you a storyteller too?"
She sighed "well, aye – but only to the children" she added quickly "you would find that story boring."
"Tell us now then. We can decide if it is boring or not – can we not?" He looked round the knights, and his wife. All nodded enthusiastically.
"We all love a good yarn San!" called Dagonet encouragingly.
Sandrina squirmed, but obeyed; she loved them all dearly and would not disappoint. She sat on a stool – Tristan felt for her; he knew how awful it was to be the centre of attention, when all you wanted to do was be quiet and watch everyone else being the focus - but he too felt compelled to stay.
"Once long, long ago, for that is how every good story starts – there was a girl. She lived in a beautiful land; she had loving parents, a kind and protective brother who was also her best friend.
Unlike other children, she and her brother loved their chores working the land as they loved to be outside….they ran here and there, they rode their horses as fast as the wind, and they felt they were the most fortunate people on earth to live in such a wonderful place and have such a good life.
But one day, when the girl was 11 and her brother 14, some evil soldiers came and said they were taking the girl and her brother to a land called Briton. The girl would be a slave to a landowner, and her brother would become a knight" she sighed and all the knights stiffened, this did not sound like any made up yarn to amuse children.
But Sandrina continued "Now the girl's people were a peaceful sort; they would only fight when they had to. But her mother was different, she was a fighter, and the girl took after her mother.
She wanted to remain free, so she fought these soldiers; she punched and kicked, clawed and scratched, she had a dagger and lunged at them swearing she would die before she became a slave. Her brother tried to protect her; they decided he was too strong willed to be trained to be a knight, so they killed him.
The girl screamed in rage and anguish at her loss and fought all the harder, so they struck her on the back of the head with the hub of a sword to quell her. The last thing she heard before being carried off was the sergeant saying 'torch the village – these Sarmatian dogs will learn not to defy the will of Rome!" A collective gasp went round the tables, but no one interrupted.
"She realised that because she fought she was going to be responsible for the death of her tribe. As she tried to struggle once again she was punched in the face and beaten. When she came round she was on a big ship going across a wide ocean; to this day she does not know what happened to her parents, or her tribe – but suspects they perished.
She arrived in the land called Briton and went to work for the landowner in the North, past a large wall that split the country in two. He was an evil man who delighted in torturing the people who were his serfs and slaves.
The girl would not give in to him, and because he could not break her spirit he grew to hate her more than any other." The assembled company knew she was talking of Marius, aided by Dagonet mouthing 'it was Marius' because she'd let it slip to him that first night; but still they did not interrupt.
"He took great pleasure in beating and torturing her, sometimes for days. But still she would not bow to him.
The only respite she got, the little happiness she now took from her miserable existence, was working in the fields; where she could feel the sun on her back and the breeze on her face. It reminded her of home, but even that was stopped…once confined to the house, her beatings became worse.
He finally constructed a dungeon and in there he built these little pits with grates on the top. He had had some outside, but they weren't enough, as she could still see the sky, and he knew it gave her hope.
He told her these pits were called oubliettes, and were there to ensure she believed in God and the Holy Mother Church and became his obedient servant. Well, the girl had begun to believe in God, but not because of him – but his wife; who had shown her nothing but kindness, even to the point of being beaten herself.
After a while she found others being confined to the dungeon – people who held fast to their pagan beliefs. Unlike her who was released blindfolded, so she would not see the sun, every day to go to the house to work; they were left there to rot.
Eventually he sold her to one of his mercenaries; one he knew hated her as much as he and told him it was on one condition, that she never be let out of the dungeon to see the sun, or feel a breeze ever again – and here the wife stepped in, for the girl was wasting away.
Whilst her spirit would not be broken, her body was and she could not fight this large man who beat and abused her. The wife let her out one night and told her to run "as if the devil himself was at your heels", and the girl did, for in a way he was….
She ran to the far hills and there she hid for days, until the landowner and his mercenary presumed she'd perished and gave up the search. By now she was heavy with child - aged somewhere in her 30's, but unsure of exact age; as one year's beatings soon flowed into another – she began to feel her life ebb from her, the wife had given her only a little food and it would not last long.
One day she was lying on the ground wondering what death would feel like when it claimed her, when a large black dragon came upon her. "What are you doing in my forest?" it grumbled, for it had a hurt foot and was hungry as it was unable to hunt.
"I'm sorry, I have come here to die; but I die happy for at least I am once again free, and my child will die free - even though it may only draw one breath in this world, it will be a free one." Then she noticed the dragon's sore foot and went to help it, she shared what little food she had with it and they became friends.
"Wouldn't you rather live?" asked the dragon.
"Nay, I think it is better to die; what have I got to live for? My mother sang me a song about finding a heart to love, but that dream died in a dungeon and I believe this is to be my lot in life. To spend my life totally alone; death would be better than that bone crunching loneliness surely?"
She told the dragon all about her life to that point and he told her she was not to blame for what happened. She did not believe him, so they spent days discussing her life and hunting for food, and she realised that her time had come – her baby was about to be born.
There was a problem, the baby was big and she was but a small woman. But the dragon had a friend, a wise man, who could help and so went to fetch him. The wise man saved the woman and her baby; and he taught her to fight, she already knew how to use a bow and a sword – but the wise man taught her many other ways to fight, and also to be a healer of sorts.
One day before he left he said "you were not to blame for your village – fate brought you here as you are to live and fulfil your destiny on these shores. You are no longer alone – you have a child, and a friend beyond reproach in the dragon. Others will soon follow them; your name means to protect mankind and your destiny is to save children from harm. Animals too, as well as all things natural to this world, will be your friends and guide you. They will never betray you."
"I am frightened" the young woman admitted for the first time in her life.
"Good" said the wise man "fear keeps your guard up, and your wits about you. Only a fool drops their guard." Dagonet's head shot up as he remembered what he had heard her telling the children that first night.
"Go now and live your life - I will have need of you one day", and he told her of this favour she might do him….."
Sandrina stopped and looked around all the knights who were transfixed, Bethan piped up – as she always did at this point – "where is she Mama? Where is the girl now and what of the dragon?"
The other children too had drawn in, hearing Sandrina's hypnotic voice and knowing the story well "Did she get her happy ever after?" asked another, already knowing the answer.
"She is still out there somewhere - she carried out the favour, and made many people happy. She has children she needs to protect just as the wise man said; she lives her life – as we all do.
The dragon is still with her" Tristan watched San's eyes stray to her perpetual shadow, the huge black wolfhound.
"He has a lot of grey scales now and he is old" her voice caught for a moment as she stroked his now greying head. The dog gazing adoringly up at her; one paw, showing a mangled scar, resting on her arm "and she will long mourn his passing when he goes forward; for he was her best, loyalist and most truest friend in all the world….." She swallowed hard as the tears threatened, for she loved that old dog dearly.
"As for a happy ever after? Well, let's just say surviving another day is the best happy ever after any of us can have – even she. But I believe she is happy in her little life; aye, she is content now……..for the first time, in a long time, her heart has some rest and her soul has found some peace…"
The knights broke out of their trance as her voice slowly halted; swallowing the tears that had risen, unbidden, to their eyes. She smiled, and lightened her voice, swallowing her own tears "Well Arthur, does my dragon story really need retelling, or is it little more than a child's yarn to while away the time to bed?"
"It is the saddest story I have ever heard Sandrina, she has my deepest……I mean I wish I could meet her and tell her no one should have to live that life. But unless you wish to tell it again, I will not make you." He swallowed deeply.
Guinevere touched her arm "The girl's mother, was she a Briton?"
"I do not know - it is possible I suppose. She never spoke of it…..some Britons were brought to Sarmatia to fight or be slaves out there, and I know some escaped. She was definitely a fighter, and there were elements about her that were that of a Woad.
But it is a story, merely a yarn…" she knew no one would believe her now, but did not want sympathy or pity from her friends.
Guinevere smiled sadly, not believing her, but understanding. Her voice full of regret and her eyes full of tears "aye, of course – a story…but…the landowner, I killed him."
"I know" whispered San, and gripped Guinevere's hand tightly "thank you."
0-0-0-0-0-0
The knights filed out silently, each locked deep in thought about all they had heard. As he passed her Bors hugged her "You spin a good yarn San; a bloody good yarn. That poor girl will haunt me for the rest of the day now…" He turned the choked tears into a cough. She rubbed his back and reassured him it was just a story and not to worry.
He didn't believe her, but understood her reluctance to accept pity; and swore to himself that if anyone ever hurt her again, he would cut them down where they stood. He was not alone in that decision amongst his comrades.
The looks she got from the others too showed they were not convinced, not least because at that moment they were looking at the black wolfhound and his mangled paw. Gawain and Galahad exchanged looks.
"Big black dragon?" Galahad asked.
"Aye, definitely the 'big black dragon'; dear Goddess….to have had such a life."
"Well, she has us now…." They walked out together nodding.
Lancelot felt this was not what Sandrina wanted, this sadness "Well, that was quite a yarn; spin another that hilarious and I might just have to cut my throat with laughing!"
Sandrina punched his arm, then hugged him to her "If I could choose another brother, I would wish him to be you….." she whispered in his ear.
Lancelot gave a start and tears rushed to his eyes "and I would just as readily choose you as my sister" he whispered thickly back, before striding quickly out of the tavern.
Dagonet gripped her arm "You're a survivor never forget that San. We all love you and would not let any harm befall you again".
"I know Dag, I know – and I feel the same about all of you." She reached up and kissed his cheek.
In the end only Tristan remained. He knew he had to say something - only what?
"Tristan! Would you like some ale, with Bors not around I could risk it!" she smirked.
"We've all guessed; that was you, wasn't it?" chocolate brown eyes rested on her. She knew she could not keep up the pretence, not to him…never to him.
"Aye, aye it was. But as I said, my life is a good one now. Since coming here, it is really a good life. I am not truly alone anymore; I have the children, though every day another one is adopted by someone at the fort – I am down to 8 now." She smiled.
"And obviously I know one day Bethan will grow and marry, and midnight….." She breathed deeply as the tears threatened again "midnight will….leave me. But that song is true… I can accept being alone. Haven't you?"
She touched his arm to get his attention as he seemed deep in thought.
All of a sudden he clutched her to him "Nay, I haven't. But you will always have me. You will never be alone again Sandrina. I would mourn your passing full as much as Bethan." She started, not knowing how he could know what she whispered to her daughter each night.
"I would not let such harm befall you again, and I am only sorry we knew you not before…for I would have cut that thing down myself, and for once truly enjoyed the act of killing a demon such as him." He whispered into her ear.
With that he let her go so abruptly that she nearly fell, and strode out. Dagonet, who had returned to fetch Lucan, smiled "he never voluntarily embraces another, San. You must have moved him deeply."
Sandrina could only nod, wondering if she'd hurt his feelings in some way– she would seek him out later and find out. For now she had pots to wash, but as she carried on listening to Dagonet chatting to Lucan and Bethan, her eyes kept straying to where she'd seen Tristan stride away.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Fate had joined with destiny, Merlin could see, and the die was being caste.
The wheels wound on once more….
