Well, this is the last chapter. I wish I could have spent more time on this story, but I will be gone the next month or so and thought it best to wrap it up before I left. Anyways, I hope you guys have enjoyed it. Thank you again so much to all those who reviewed! I have greatly appreciated your comments and encouragement. :)
Tristan sat on his horse along side the other knights as they began their journey away from Britain back to their home in Sarmatia, to freedom. They had finally received their discharge papers, though they had been delayed by a mission to save a Roman family from the invading Saxons. The other knights had been livid with Rome and with Bishop Germarnus for breaking the vow that they were to be discharged upon his arrival. The mission was one of the most dangerous they had undertaken; and when it was finally fulfilled, they had to mourn the loss their beloved fellow knight, Dagonet.
Tristan had been indifferent to the mission from the moment he'd learned of it. Now, more than ever, the prospect of death did not frighten him. In fact, he almost welcomed it. As he rode with the knights departing from Hadrian's Wall he realized that not only did he have nothing left in Britain, but neither did he have anything waiting for him in Sarmatia. His thoughts, as always, drifted to Jillian. 'May she rest in peace,' he thought, 'A peace I will never find on this earth.'
"My father told me great tales of you. Fairy tales. The kind you hear about people so brave, so selfless, that they can't be real. Arthur and his knights."
Arthur and his knights' bravery and selflessness, however, were not a fairy tale. Their actions were real, and so were they. Their noble deeds transcended across the generations. Their honorability made even love possible between two people who should have been sworn enemies. Arthur and his knights fought for Rome, but they were not Rome. Jillian and Tristan loved each other from the start, but it was that distinction that made their love possible---that almost made their love possible. In the end, however, the noble deeds of a few men were perhaps simply not enough to redeem a world of wickedness.
Or were they? That the knights decided to stay and fight the Saxons did not surprise Tristan at all. In fact, he had almost wished for it. Britain after all was Jillian's country. She had died for it. Tristan knew that his staying and fighting along side Arthur and her people would have made Jillian proud. Tristan was therefore the first to dismount his horse and arm himself for battle. He grabbed a bow from the supply wagon and tested its string. In that moment he knew that his entire life had been leading up to this battle.
The battle was going well thanks to Arthur's gift for strategy. The woads were also a great help. Tristan remembered how Jillian had described the different tribes as isolated and in need of unification. Today they had been brought together in the common cause of their country's freedom. He supposed Arthur deserved credit for that. Arthur, who had for years fought the woads in the name of Rome, now led them in a war against the Saxons for the freedom of Briton.
Tristan dismounted his horse and glided across the field towards the Saxon leader, Cerdic. He would make a formidable opponent. If it was his fate to die on this battlefield, so be it, but he would die with honor. Cerdic acknowledged him, but sent one of his lieutenants to engage Tristan first. The lieutenant was a burly, bearded man, an insult to Tristan's skill. Their swords had barely met before Tristan had effortlessly slain the Saxon leader's pitiful lieutenant. He glared at Cerdic as the lieutenant's body fell lifeless to the ground. If the lieutenant was an insult to Tristan, the quickness with which Tristan took his life was an insult to Cerdic.
Cerdic drew his sword, and Tristan engaged him, pushing his helmet from his head with the back of his arm. They eyed each other with the kind of respect one adversary gives another of equal ability. Though Tristan fought only with his sword, Cerdic fought with both his sword and a dagger in his free hand, which he used to slash Tristan across the arm. Their swords clattered against one another. They parried momentarily, and Tristan swung his sword at the Saxon leader. In return, Cerdic struck him against the back of his head causing him to stumble to the ground.
Tristan remembered the first time he had seen Jillian on the battlefield. He had thrown her to the ground defeated, but she had stood to face him again never allowing herself to surrender. With this in mind, Tristan gripped the hilt of his sword and stood, his eyes once again meeting the Saxon's. They parried with their swords once again, but this time, Cerdic managed to fling Tristan's sword from his hands. Tristan stared at the ground where his sword lay and then turned his eyes back to Cerdic, readying the dagger that he kept inside the chest plate of his armor. To his surprise, however, Cerdic kicked the sword back to him.
Tristan knew that the Saxon was just toying with him, but he picked up his sword and swung at him once again anyway. Their swords met, and Cerdic quickly lunged his dagger into Tristan's arm. He then kicked Tristan back down to the ground. The game was over. Cerdic picked up Tristan's sword and eyed it curiously. He would kill the Sarmatian with his own sword. Tristan winced as Cerdic lifted him from the ground by his hair. Cerdic adjusted Tristan's sword in one hand and grabbed Tristan's arm with the other. Tristan seemed to levitate above the ground, being held by his outstretched arm.
Tristan dazedly looked up into the sky and saw his hawk circling above him. He felt death's breath on the back of his neck, making his hair stand up on end. He had always thought death would be a great darkness that would sweep over him, encompassing him in its coldness, but what he saw was a blinding beam of light that felt as if it were tugging at him from inside. 'Jillian…'
Cerdic was about to thrust the curved sword into Tristan's side when an arrow flew out of nowhere and embedded itself in Cerdic's arm that held Tristan. Reflexively, he released Tristan from his grip, and Tristan's wounded body fell to the ground. Cerdic turned to the direction of the arrow and saw a girl with a bow aimed at him standing about twenty feet away. Her long brown hair swirled about her face in the breeze, and her glowing eyes narrowed as they met his. Cerdic grunted in pain, and pulled the arrow from his arm.
Perhaps the angels the Romans believed in did walk the earth, but Jillian was no angel. She was real, tangible, alive. Yet, to Tristan, she was like a guardian angel watching over him. She had seen the Saxon raise Tristan's sword for the fatal blow to his side and had instinctively dispatched an arrow directly into his arm.
Now the Saxon stood scowling at her. She knew she would have to fight him, and she had serious doubts about whether she could win. Fortunately, Arthur came bounding towards the Saxon, and Jillian sighed with relief. Arthur had spotted the Saxon from across the field. Apparently, they had some kind of score to settle. 'Let them settle it,' she thought. The battle was almost at its end, and Jillian's heart raced with exultation at the realization that the outcome would be in their favor.
Jillian turned her attention back to Tristan who still lay where the Saxon had dropped him. She raced over to his side and stood over him. "You're a good fighter, Sarmatian," she said looking down at him, "You just need to learn how to pick your fights."
Tristan opened his eyes and looked up at her, at first not believing what he saw. "Jillian?" he uttered, his voice raspy and weak.
Jillian knelt by his side. "You promised you'd come for me!" she said. Her eyes revealed traces of hurt and confusion. She had heard that the Sarmatian knights had received their discharge, and she had waited for Tristan to return to her as a free man no longer in service to Rome. When he had not come and she learned the knights were returning to Sarmatia, her heart had stung with rejection. Perhaps he had changed his mind. Perhaps he did not love her. What was worse was the pain atthis rejectiononly served to show her how fully she had given her heart to him. Yet, here he lay on the battlefield, on the earth of Briton, and the joy that Jillian felt at finding him overcame her so that she could not help but smile down at him.
"You're alive," he responded in an elated state of shock. The pain from his injuries made his voice sound strained and forced, but his face held a smile. A smile from Tristan was a rare gift, but in that moment, he gave it to Jillian.
"Of course I am. Why would you think otherwise?" Jillian asked, perplexed.
"Dagonet's ring---I found it---and your people---all dead in the forest," Tristan explained too confused by the events himself to speak his words with complete coherency. He could not believe she was alive. Jillian was alive!
Jillian furrowed her eyebrows at first, but then was struck with an epiphany. "I must have lost it in the struggle," she recalled, saddened by the memory. She remembered the day the Romans had come and annihilated her tribe, leaving nothing but ash. She could still hear the echo of their screams. The thought was too painful for her, so she shook it from her mind with the realization that perhaps Tristan had not broken his promise after all.
"You were there then? The Roman soldiers--they said they'd killed everyone…" he said. His voice wavered from the pain of his injuries, but his eyes stayed locked on Jillian, sparkling at the sight of her.
"Arrogant fools. You think I'd let myself get killed by a bunch of Roman dogs?" Jillian asked, somewhat offended, but also trying to lighten the mood.
"I forgot," he teased in return, "You're a great warrior."
"So are you," Jillian responded sincerely. She could never describe to Tristan how her heart had swelled with pride when she saw him from across the battlefield fighting side by side with her people. Yet, it was not just that he was fighting for her people and her country. It was that he had chosen to do so.
Tristan smiled at her words. He wanted her respect more than anyone's, and he finally felt as though he had earned it. Despite the pain from his injuries, Tristan forced himself to sit up so that he was eye level with her. He touched his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. To feel her tangibility, to feel that she was real---perhaps the world was not so unyielding after all. Tristan pulled her into an embrace and kissed her, never wanting to let go. As for Jillian, her heart felt as though it were soaring with Tristan's hawk in the sky.
Her heart. Remembering something suddenly,Jillian pulled away andsearched his eyes. "Tristan," she said, "Remember when you asked me to stay with you at the wall and I refused?"
"Yes," Tristan answered, trying to pull her back to him.
She restrained and continued her speech, "Well, you made me a promise---a promise I thought you had broken. I know now the reason, but, well, you see I was surprised by how much it hurt when you didn't come. I just---please, I just need to know that---"
"I love you," Tristan interrupted suddenly.
Jillian's shot open wide at his declaration and her face beamed with happiness. "And I, you," she responded. Jillian joyfully wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. They sat peacefully as such for several minutes, content simply to be together.
A soft breeze swept over them. They sat in the middle of the battlefield amidst the remains of hundreds who had lost their lives that day. Jillian and Tristan, however, had been given life that day---a second chance at the life they deserved to live together.
"Jillian?" he whispered softly in her ear.
"Yes?" she answered.
"I do believe in heaven."
