a/n: Another freaking long chapter! Thanks so much for your awesome reviews and feedback—it really is refreshing and rewarding for me. I hope you all enjoy this one too! I hope to get a new chapter out by Sunday, but if not, be patient with me. :o) Thanks!
The Romans
Jaelynn heard the commotion throughout the town, and recognized the tense excitement. Arthur must be back. She had seen him leave a couple of days ago, and rumor had it that he was bringing back Romans.
Sure enough, she saw a carriage and men on horseback, surrounded by Britons and the knights. Tristan wasn't among them, but she knew he had stayed behind.
Jaelynn had avoided him the last couple of days. She felt so silly for doing so; she was willing to be away from someone she considered at least a friend, all because she couldn't give up the notion that he might be more than a friend one day. But she found reason after reason to not seek him out.
Vanora and she had gone around town, trying to find a suitable place for Jaelynn to live. She knew Vanora wasn't keen on letting her go so soon, but Jaelynn was beginning to think that the sooner she was independent, the more focused she could be on the healing arts. It was an excuse, at least.
She'd found a room of her own in the healing wing of the fort. She was surprised that she would even be allowed to stay in what was really the royal household's area, but Hilden had a room nearby as well. Maybe it wasn't such a big deal.
The room was small, but she didn't need much. She certainly didn't have much. She was able to make a few trips back and forth between Vanora's temporary home to her new room, just taking armfuls of her things. Clothes, a few trinkets, and a blanket she and Vanora made last year. The bathing area for women was down the hall, and included in a weekly housing fee was breakfast and dinner.
She really couldn't ask for better. She found her wages as a healer's assistant were more than she imagined getting. Money wasn't something she had a lot of experience with, but she was learning. She had enough for her weekly board, and then a little more for whatever she wished.
The book on the table in the healing room beckoned her, and Jaelynn glared at it before settling back down to read. The minutia within the books drove her crazy, but she knew it was important. She found herself making little notes on some parchment, questions to ask Hilden when she saw him.
He was out at the moment. He had his own life, though she didn't know what he did. She just knew to wait in the healing room, both in case someone needed something and to eventually find Hilden for answers.
She heard him enter. Finally! She was running out of room for all her questions. Without looking up, she asked:
"I thought eucalyptus was used to fight infection, but it's listed as a remedy for aches as well," she said. "Why?" She pointed to a spot in her book, and he came to her side, reading over her shoulder.
"Hell if I know," came the reply. Jaelynn jumped at the voice. It wasn't Hilden's. The lingering scratchiness of the voice was a dead giveaway, and she turned to face him.
"Tristan."
He smirked, no doubt pleased with himself in startling her. Jaelynn's heart was racing. She let out a shuddering breath, and shut her book.
"What do you need?"
The smirk disappeared, and he looked around the room.
"Hilden wanted to check the scars." His eyes settled back on her, and Jaelynn had to fight not to look away. No, she was here first. This was her job, and she wasn't about to get intimidated by him.
He doesn't even intimidate you! She wasn't like the rest of the town. It's just because you still can't get over your crush! Even when he gawks at other women like Nasica!
She turned away, partially so she could roll her eyes at herself without Tristan seeing. Her fingers brushed over some vials on a shelf. Her eyes searched for the right one, something Hilden had made especially for the scout.
"Here it is," she said aloud. She plucked the small vial off the shelf and turned to the scout. He eyed what she had in her hand, and then took off his leather jerkin. He started to lift his shirt, granting Jaelynn a glimpse of his chest when her voice found her.
"What are you doing?"
He stopped, his shirt hoisted to his shoulders with his arms ready to pull it off completely.
"You need to put that on." He nodded at the vial. He studied her face, and she knew it had to be because she was blushing.
No, no, no, no, NO! She was not going to lose face here. She stood up taller and put her hands on her hips. She gave him her best chiding glare, like Vanora often gave her brood.
"I think I know what needs to be done better than you, and that's not it." Good! Keep going, Jaelynn! She went to him, grasped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it down. She turned and grabbed his jerkin and passed it to him, followed by the vial.
"For the scarring, and if the wounds still bother you," she said, watching as Tristan slowly took the vial. He frowned, and she knew she was getting back her confidence. "Hilden said only to apply it if you need it. The wounds are well enough that infection isn't a problem."
She stepped back—distance was a good thing—and waited for whatever would happen next.
Tristan spun the vial with his fingertips before pocketing it. He put the leather jerkin back on, and then . . . he just waited.
Jaelynn swallowed. She didn't know what to do. Her stomach tightened and if something didn't happen soon, she just might be sick from nerves. Tristan looked over her. She felt like she was being judged.
"Do you need anything else?" she found herself saying. Tristan shook his head. He frowned a bit, but then he flashed a smile at her.
"Thanks."
As soon as he was gone, Jaelynn flopped down on a chair, and hid her head in her hands.
-0-0-
Arthur sighed tiredly. The last thing he wanted to do was have an elaborate feast for a bunch of Romans. He wasn't impressed by them at all, and that's what the Romans had been looking for.
They had a royal air, snobbery oozing off of them. Six men who were Roman dignitaries. Just a visit, they said, but they weren't invited. Galahad had whined about them all the way back to the Wall.
And Arthur told him they had to be hospitable. Rome was weakening, from what he heard, but it still was a formidable empire, and Arthur didn't need enemies right now. He would allow the visit—it was just a few weeks.
The dignitaries seated themselves wherever they wanted around the table. They didn't seem to care that they were occupying the knights' seats. Surprisingly, Gawain, Galahad and Bors didn't pitch a fit.
He wondered where Tristan was. He'd summoned him to join the party. He didn't recognize any of the Romans or think they would be any trouble from Tristan's time in Rome. Besides, that was two years ago, and he felt terrible for leaving Tristan behind on the ride out.
The Romans chatted with each other. They started to drink freely even though the feast really hadn't started yet. Arthur had seen his share of rude Romans, but these men were pushing it.
As if sensing his disapproval, one of them raised his hand at his men.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I believe we should wait for our host's invitation." The other men grumbled a bit, but set their goblets down. Yet they didn't wait for an invitation to come here in the first place.
Arthur nodded. "Thank you. Allow me to introduce those present you might not have met."
He stood and turned to Guinevere. His face showed all the adoration. "My wife and Queen, Guinevere. We have a son, but he is feeling too ill to be brought here tonight." Hilden and Jaelynn were watching over the infant, and while Guinevere was a bit anxious, Arthur had all the confidence in the world in Hilden's abilities. He started to name off others around the table. Nasica, two other ladies, the knights . . .
. . . and then Tristan walked in.
"And Tristan," Arthur finished, a reproving glare on his face. The scout just shrugged as if there was nothing wrong. Arthur noted that the knight at least looked clean and had a decent tunic on. The only seat left was between one of the Romans and Bors. He took it.
"Rome has sent these men on an official visit," Arthur said. "Gemino Octavius, I'll let you introduce your men."
Octavius stood.
"Thank you. We are pleased to be here. With me are Patriclo, Caenis, Tacitus, Cicero and Maro," he said, gesturing around the table. Arthur smiled politely and looked around the room.
Tristan looked less than pleased. His eyes were stuck on the Romans, and one of the Romans eyed him specifically.
Tacitus.
Octavius sat down, and though Arthur wondered what was going on, he had to be the host.
The dinner started, with several courses being brought out. Polite conversation commenced across the table, and Arthur was obligated to turn to Octavius, evidently the ranking member of the guests.
As he spoke, his eyes kept wandering over to Tristan.
The scout avoided the Romans, turning to Bors' conversation. But Tacitus kept staring at the scout. And that worried Arthur.
All thought escaped him when suddenly Jaelynn entered the room. She was slightly out of breath, but managed a formal smile and bow to the guests.
Jaelynn came to him and Guinevere.
"What is it, Jaelynn?" Guinevere asked, unable to mask her panic. Jaelynn noticed all eyes were on her, and lowered her voice. Arthur was grateful for that.
"Your son has developed a fever," she said in a hushed voice. "Hilden asks if the Queen could come." Arthur's heart dropped, and he saw the despair in Guinevere's eyes. He grabbed her hand.
"Go ahead," he urged, giving her a tender smile. Inside he felt the same worry she exhibited, but he could not show that now. Guinevere took comfort in his smile, and stood.
-0-0-
Tristan had tried not to draw attention to himself or acknowledge the Romans by watching Nasica. She had nodded once to him during the meal, but otherwise ignored him. He was discouraged about how she'd acted before, but not enough to ignore her.
The moment Jaelynn came in, he knew something was wrong. He studied Arthur and Guinevere as Jaelynn whispered something to them. The baby, probably. Guinevere left, with Jaelynn in tow.
"Tristan, isn't it?" he heard beside him. Tristan turned to the Roman, but it wasn't the original one he'd sat by.
It was the one called Tacitus. He'd switched places with his comrade Maro.
Tristan calmly reached for his goblet and took a sip before answering.
"Yes."
From the corner of his eye, he saw Tacitus grin.
"Have you seen Rome, Tristan?" Tacitus asked.
Tristan set his goblet down but didn't answer. Tacitus kept going.
"In Rome, we don't have women like that," he said. Tristan clenched his fists. "Queens, we have. Even female warriors. But that jewel . . ." He gestured to the door, where Jaelynn had left.
Tristan's stomach turned.
"Such beauty and innocence, and a young spirit," Tacitus kept going. "Is she spoken for?"
If he had his sword on him, and if Arthur wasn't watching, he would have lopped the Roman's head off. He settled on staring blankly at Tacitus.
"No then?" Tacitus grinned. "Or are you not much with the ladies of this town, Tristan? Not too many women throwing themselves at assassins these days, are there?"
Tristan steeled himself. He glared at the Roman.
"What?"
Tacitus grinned.
"Why pretend? I know who you are," he said. "You worked for Germanius. Did you kill him too?" He chuckled but there was no humor. "The beast turned on his master. Would you turn on Arthur too? Maybe that innocent girl?"
From across the room, Tristan saw Arthur, watching them closely. He imagined his tense posture said it all, but Arthur could do nothing at this point.
"Stay away from her," Tristan managed to say between tightly clenched teeth.
"Don't worry," Tacitus said, nearly whispering in his ear. "Your secret can be safe with me. For a price. The girl, maybe."
Tristan casually picked up his goblet again. He drank one quick sip, and then set the goblet down again. As he brought his arm back, he gave it one quick snap in Tacitus' direction.
His elbow connected with the man's nose.
The man didn't cry out, to his credit. Tristan glanced at the other Romans but they were getting drunk. Arthur noticed right away, but just frowned. Good. At least he knew something was wrong.
Tristan leaned over to Tacitus, who braced his hands around his swollen nose.
"Careful," Tristan said. "Don't get lost on your way home. The beast likes an easy kill."
He stood, and nodded once to Arthur, as formal an acknowledgment as Tristan could spare at the moment. He left the dinner, ignoring the curious stares from Nasica.
-0-0-
A small noise startled him awake. Tristan sat up quickly in his bed, and drew a dagger from underneath the mattress.
"Tristan," he heard a voice whisper. His door was half-open, and he halted his arm from throwing the dagger when he saw the person.
"Jaelynn," he said. He put the dagger down. "What's wrong?"
"Arthur wants to see you," she whispered. She stayed by the door, and Tristan got up and put on his shirt.
As they walked to Arthur's chambers, Tristan tied his leather jerkin in place. It was late, well into the night, but all sleepiness left him. Arthur's summons in the middle of darkness was never a good thing.
"How's the boy?" Tristan asked as they walked. He peeked in Jaelynn's direction from behind his unruly hair. She looked tired, her hair swept up in a messy bun and still dressed as she was when he saw her at dinner. Still working. That wasn't a good thing for Arthur's son.
"Fever," she answered gravely. "The Queen is making herself sick with worry."
Despite the seriousness, Tristan smiled. It was very much like Guinevere to worry so over something she had no control—not that she would have before she married Arthur, but having a child seemed to change that in her.
A door opened along the hallway, just within sight of Arthur's chambers. The occupant looked out, evidently roused by the passing of people in the hall. Tristan's heart flipped when he saw it was Nasica.
She was looking down the other way, and didn't see Tristan's step falter as they approached. When she looked back, her eyes went directly to his.
He thought about stopping. He wanted to see her more, to talk to her. About what, he wasn't sure—maybe to assuage his confusion over her words in the training yard. But now was not the time. He gave her a curt nod, and kept pace with Jaelynn.
Jaelynn knocked on Arthur's door. Arthur himself opened, and ushered them inside. Tristan, to his annoyance, hoped that Nasica saw this.
Why do you care?
He cleared his thoughts and quickly took stock of what was going on.
Jaelynn immediately went to Hilden's side. The healer used a damp cloth and wiping over Arthur's son. Guinevere tried to smile at the infant and hold the boy while Hilden administered to him.
The six of them were the only ones in the room, and Tristan wondered why he was brought here. He wasn't like Jaelynn. He didn't have skills to benefit the child. He caught sight of Jaelynn, offering sincere smiles to both Guinevere and the boy. When Hilden asked for something, she immediately turned to get it.
He smiled faintly.
"Thank you for coming, Tristan," Arthur said, breaking his thoughts. Tristan nodded.
"Will he heal?" he asked soft enough for only Arthur to hear. Both men looked on at the healers and the boy.
"We think so," Arthur said. "This is the first time he's taken ill seriously. Gwen is being cautious." Without looking away from his family, Arthur continued. "What do you think of our Roman guests?"
Judging by the tense tone in Arthur's voice, Tristan wondered if this was the king's casual introduction to a lecture.
"I don't trust them," Tristan said. He doubted that was a surprise to Arthur. No one really trusted Romans, and that Tristan least of all would trust them, well . . . some things were just a given.
"Is that because of your personal experience or because of something now?" Arthur asked. He wasn't chiding, Tristan realized. That made him straighten up. Arthur only got into this analysis when he suspected something himself.
"Both." He saw Jaelynn look to him, curiosity blatant on her weary features. He kept his voice low. "One of them knows me."
Arthur drew a deep breath. "Tacitus? How?"
"From Rome," answered Tristan. "He knows what I was, and about Germanius."
"What did he say?"
Tristan took his time answering. He watched Jaelynn, and felt an unfamiliar pang of worry hit him.
"He'll use this to his advantage," Tristan generalized. Arthur turned to Tristan directly, making Tristan face him as well.
"What did he say, Tristan?" Arthur repeated. For some reason, Tristan hated to say it. He hated to even have to tell Arthur this, as if he were incapable of handling it himself. He knew it wasn't that simple, but Arthur had enough worries . . .
"He said he could keep my actions a secret, for a price." The scout's eyes moved to Jaelynn, where they stayed long enough for Arthur to catch the meaning.
The king balled his fists, but his eyes were soft as they looked on Jaelynn. Tristan knew she was a soft spot in the king's heart, as well as the knights'—even his own.
"That eliminates the doubts I had," Arthur said. Tristan blinked. "I don't believe the Romans. They're not here for what they say. If Rome had sent them, there would have been some announcement, if for no other reason than to ready the finest rooms for the party."
Tristan smiled. He enjoyed it when Arthur got sarcastic.
"What do you suspect?" he asked.
Arthur sighed.
"I don't know," he admitted, running a hand over his tired face. "But I have a way to find out." He stared purposely at Tristan. "You have skills, Tristan, ways to stay hidden and find what we need." Somehow, Tristan doubted these skills were just his scouting. Arthur was indirectly referring to Rome, and his abilities there. But Arthur wasn't aiming for assassination, and Tristan begrudgingly acknowledged that.
"You want me to spy on them," the scout filled in. Arthur nodded.
"I'll tell them I sent you to scout," the king said. "In light of Tacitus' threat, it would at least keep you safer."
"What about Jaelynn?" Tristan asked. She heard her name that time, but just it, for she looked up again at the men. Tristan lowered his voice further. "Who will look after her?"
A valid concern, after the marauders swooped in and stole her for a time.
"She's needed here," Arthur said, "or I'd send her away until the Romans leave. I've been told she just moved into the fort's household, so she's a bit safer, but she's alone." The king thought for a moment. "There's an empty room by hers. You'll have to be invisible, Tristan, as you move around the fort. No one can know you're still here. But you can go back to that room, to keep an extra watch on her."
Tristan nodded. He had to admit he was thrilled about spying on the Roman scum. The sooner he found something, the sooner they all would be rid of them. It didn't settle the matter of Jaelynn though.
"I can't watch her all the time," Tristan said. "Tell Hilden not to let her out of his sight. Get Gawain and Galahad on alert too."
"And Bors," Arthur added. Tristan shook his head.
"Bors won't keep quiet," he said. He glanced at Jaelynn. "No need to worry her."
He missed the surprised look Arthur gave him as he watched Jaelynn work.
"You know what you suspect?" Tristan asked, winding the matter up.
Arthur shook his head. "No. But they're hiding something."
Guinevere caught her husband's eye, and Arthur shifted her way.
"I'll be gone by morning," Tristan said, and went for the door.
He was twenty steps away from Arthur's chambers when he heard someone open another door.
"Tristan." Nasica, he recognized immediately. He stopped by her door. She looked like she hadn't even tried to go back to sleep. She waited for me.
Foolish thought, he knew, but it's what came to mind.
"What's going on?" she asked, nodding towards Arthur's door. Tristan kept his eyes on her, trying to ignore the loose shirt she wore that exposed her neck and shoulder.
"Baby's sick," he said. Nasica shot him a look.
"I knew that," she warned. "What's really going on?"
Tristan shrugged. "Scouting. I should go." He made to leave, but Nasica stepped from her room and blocked his path. His heart began to pound.
"That's not all. I saw what happened at dinner," she said, her gray eyes probing him. She grinned at him, a playful but challenging wile to sway him. Tristan drew a long breath. He couldn't figure this woman out. Every word she spoke could be interpreted as hateful or friendly—every action bullying or flirtatious. Did she even like him?
And then he decided to abandon analysis and just find out the direct way.
"Are you worried?" he asked evenly, without a sign of emotion. Before she could answer, Tristan stepped towards her, backing her against the wall, and he seized her lips. He kissed her, strong and unrelenting.
He felt her hands push against his chest, and she forced him away. Her gray eyes were suddenly darker now.
"Tristan—" Her voice came as a scalding hiss, and Tristan instantly knew. No, he thought. She doesn't care. He waited, even though every instinct told him to walk away with a little bit of dignity. He waited, and watched as she struggled between fury and control.
Finally she spoke, her voice more even this time.
"I don't feel anything for you, Tristan," she said. Her voice strengthened, and Tristan knew he wouldn't like the rest of this. "Maybe you thought I did. Maybe I was wrong to ever speak to you. Arthur sent me to find you, and I did my duty. I pity how you were treated, but perhaps you deserved it."
He wanted to look away, knowing she was throwing contempt at his face for being an assassin. But pride dictated that he stare her in the eyes.
"I apologize if I gave you any reason to think I cared for you," she continued, but she sounded anything but sorry. "I never could. If I felt anything other than . . ." She couldn't seem to find the right word.
"It would be as if I condoned your actions. As if I ignored the people you slaughtered, for money or whatever made you do it." Her lips curled in disgust, and Tristan felt his heart shrink and harden. "I know Arthur needs someone like you, and I respect that. But I will never respect you."
She shook her head at him, as if that was the final condemnation. She stood there, waiting. Her eyes stared into him.
"And you can't even defend yourself," she muttered, more to herself, but still meant as a barb.
No, he thought, I can't. Clearly Nasica didn't know all the details, but she didn't need to. She didn't want to. Learning more about him or what he did would only make it harder for her to hate him. And she wants to hate you.
He nodded once. "'Night." He turned and walked away. He heard Nasica slam her door.
Tristan blinked.
And he continued down the hall, pushing aside the sting and hurt of Nasica's words. He pushed aside contempt he felt for himself, for his past and for ever thinking Nasica just might care for him.
It didn't matter now. He had a mission, and he had to prepare and be out of sight before sunrise.