4. Not Going Home
Zoe woke up when somebody shook her shoulder lightly. She sprung awake when the person started talking in Latin rather than imploring her to make pancakes.
'Oh, fuck. It's real.' Zoe pinched herself again, to make sure, but all she got from that was another bruise rather than an awakening from what she had hoped to be a dream.
It was Gawain waking her up, and he was looking at her with appreciative eyes. He said something in Latin and smirked. Not as handsome as Lancelot's smirk, but definitely attractive.
Zoe realized to her discomfort that she wasn't wearing very much. Pulling the blanket up to her chest, she shrank away from Gawain. 'Please get out, please! Please!'
Gawain laughed and Zoe felt like she was about to cry. It was humiliating, and she half expected him to rip the blanket away from her and laugh some more. Why else would he have kidnapped her and taken her here? Whatever it was, Zoe was sure his intention couldn't be innocent. Instead he handed her what was probably a dress and gestured to a steaming bowl on the table. He held up five fingers and looked at Zoe, who was still holding the blanket so it covered her chest, stomach and thighs.
Zoe nodded, not looking up until she heard the sound of the door being locked. She slid off the bed and tried to stand, but regretted it when she nearly fell. Her ankle was worse, despite being elevated during the night. She hobbled to the table, looked at her still-damp clothes and struggled into the shapeless, brown dress, but couldn't do the ties up at the back. She swore in frustration and did it up as best she could. Then she turned to the food, carefully sitting on the rickety chair that sat in the corner of the modest room.
It was a bowl of porridge, she supposed. And it smelled nice enough, so Zoe picked up the spoon and ate it quickly. She didn't know how long she had to go before Gawain came back in and she didn't want to annoy her captor. The porridge was a little bland, could definitely have done with some brown sugar and much more milk, but wasn't bad. There weren't any suspiciously crunchy bits in it and it wasn't burned beyond recognition like the time Brittany had tried to make porridge for everyone two days ago.
Oh God, Brittany. Was she out there in this madness somewhere? And Suze and Mike and Andy and Simon? Where were they? Did some other lunatics come and kidnap them, too? Or maybe they hadn't been so lucky. Zoe forced these rather morbid thoughts away. Focus on getting back home, and then she could make sure her friends were okay. And she could get the police to put these men where they belonged-prison or an asylum.
She was halfway through when Gawain popped his head in again. She stood up warily as he entered the room and he pointed to her. Zoe looked down, but she couldn't see anything. Zoe shook her head. He laughed again, and Zoe felt herself tear up. She couldn't deal with this. Where the hell was she? Who the hell was he? Why had they kidnapped her and what did they want to do with her? And could she at least get a shower and a toothbrush?
Gawain grabbed her arm and turned her around. Zoe winced when she was forced to put weight on her ankle. She felt the man do up the ties on the back of her dress with cold but efficient hands. She guessed that was what he'd been pointing to. Then he let her sit down and finish the porridge.
He said something in Latin, but when Zoe shook her head he groaned and grabbed her arm. He said it again, but this time dragged her with him out the door and down more corridors. He handed her to a pair of women, who took her into a room lined with benches and holes. She could guess what they were for from the smell.
The taller woman said something to Zoe and motioned to the holes.
'Why am I here?' Zoe asked them, looking between them. It was probably stupid of her by now to hope that one of them spoke English.
The shook their heads, and the shorter one said something, gesturing to what Zoe guessed were the toilets more forcefully.
'Look, I don't want to have anything to do with you, could I just go home, please?' Zoe asked, limping towards the door.
The taller woman frowned, but didn't say anything, so Zoe hobbled closer to the exit. The smaller one said something sharp, but Zoe shook her head. Universal sign language for 'What the fuck are you talking about', she thought wryly.
'Just stay here, and I promise that when the police come I'll tell them you let me get away, and you won't go to prison.'
The women looked at each other and the smaller one nodded and walked over to grab Zoe's arm just as she was about to limp out the door.
Zoe started struggling. 'Get the fuck off me! I want to go home!' She screamed and thrashed in the grip of the woman, who, despite being shorter than the other woman there, was half a head taller than Zoe and stronger than she looked.
The taller one walked over and slapped her face hard. Zoe gasped in shock and pain, but lashed out at the woman in retaliation. She was shoved off balance and her injured ankle reminded her of its existence as she landed roughly on it.
It was hopeless. Even when the big scary men weren't around, the women were just as bad. Actually, these women had hurt her worse than the men with weapons had. Zoe sniffed, bloody hell she was crying again! She tried to stand, but fell down again. The shorter woman said something and pulled her up and shoved her in the direction of the toilet holes.
Zoe stumbled, catching her balance on the bench. She glared at the woman, who just said something else Zoe couldn't understand and jabbed her finger first at the toilets and then at Zoe. Zoe nodded, still glaring. Fine. She needed to go the toilet anyway.
The women turned their backs and chatted in Latin until Zoe stood up. She looked around for some water, and saw a jug next to the door. She grabbed it and used that to wash her hands. But no toothbrush. The toilets hadn't flushed either and there was no toilet paper. The two women handed her a comb that seemed to be carved from wood and Zoe used it to get the worst of the knots out of her hair. It felt greasy; she hadn't washed it last night. She'd been a little busy being kidnapped.
When the two women got sick of standing around while Zoe struggled with her hair. It wasn't even down to her shoulders, for God's sake! Why was it being such a bother? The taller woman shrugged her shoulders, took the comb from Zoe and led her out to where Gawain was waiting.
The knight grabbed her by the arm again and took her through more corridors. Her ankle hurt like hell and she was trying not to limp. And she was failing dismally. Why couldn't she just stay in bed, preferably with an ice pack. Or get a bandage to support her ankle. She was in bare feet for god's sake! But she wouldn't say any of this to him because he was still bloody scary. The hair and the large knife strapped to his side both intimidated her. More the knife than the hair, actually.
Zoe couldn't have said if these were the same corridors as last night, but they arrived quite suddenly in a brightly lit hall. Zoe blinked to clear her vision, and stopped dead, gasping in surprised awe. In the centre of the room was the most gorgeously carved table. And it was round. Gawain let her go and walked away somewhere, calling out in Latin.
Zoe hobbled to the edge of the table and hesitantly ran her fingers over the edge. She saw that at each place there was a name carved into the wood and she crouched to read. 'Dagonet' and 'Percival' and 'Galahad' and 'Lamorak' among others, each with a little animal carved next to their names.
Oh God. It wasn't real. These guys were just play-acting. There had to be electric lights somewhere. Watches. A 'Made in China' sticker. A heater, jeans, a toothbrush, plumbing, something to prove to her that she was not where she was beginning to think she was.
No fucking way this was King Arthur and his knights of the really fucking big Round Table.
Zoe stood up and looked around for light bulbs, wires, switches and modern clothing. She was ignoring the rather scary man with long blond hair who called himself Gawain standing near door. She was not going to think about what she'd do if this was actually when she thought it was. She was going to get out of here, find somebody's mobile and call Suze and she was going to go home.
Zoe was checking out the wall near the door, leaning on it for support, too close to Gawain to be comfortable, when she was tapped on the shoulder. Red-Cape-Man was standing behind her when she turned around, except he wasn't wearing a red cape anymore but a dark blue shirt instead. He took her hand and led her (why did these men drag her everywhere when she was moving like a peg-leg?) past the table and into a smaller, darker room with a desk piled high with small tablets covered in writing and Too-Pretty standing in the corner.
He gestured to a seat and took the one on the other side of the desk. He said something to Too-Pretty that sounded a little irritable, but Too-Pretty laughed and patted him on the shoulder.
'Zoe.' Too-Pretty said, smiling at her. And it was a beautiful smile.
Zoe felt herself smiling hesitantly back at him, not to mention her heart rate go up. She'd had boyfriends before, of course, what 19 year old hadn't in her time? But none of them were as handsome as this man. Or Red-Cape-Man, for that matter. Or even really hairy Blondie. Why did all the hot guys have to be mental?
The man started talking to her, slowly and calmly. She caught a few words, like 'Britannia' and 'Merlin', but she had no idea what he was saying, really. He looked at her, as if expecting something from her.
Zoe shook her head. 'Pax?' she offered. It was one of the few Latin words she knew. Along with a few phrases such as 'carpe diem' thanks to being forced to study Dead Poet's Society in school a few years ago. Her Literature teacher had loved the film, but Zoe had hated it. You can be as free as you want, just don't be an idiot and forget that there were consequences. Zoe was trying very hard not to forget the possible consequences of pissing off these strange people right now, actually. 'Pax?' She said again.
Red-Cape-Man laughed and shook his head. 'Arthur,' he said, standing up and bowing a little. Oh bloody hell, more Knights of the Round Table. So not happening. So really not happening.
Zoe stood up, because Arthur was really intimidating standing over her like that. She put all her weight on her healthy ankle as the one she'd sprained was killing her. 'Zoe.' She copied his gesture and Arthur smiled at her. He gestured to her to follow him again, and she tried to. Except he noticed her limping.
Arthur pushed her down on the chair gently and his hands moved towards her ankle. He stopped and looked at her. He said something in a questioning voice that sounded as though he was asking for permission.
Zoe nodded mutely, not exactly sure what he wanted with her ankle. She hoped it wasn't anything too bad. This guy seemed to be in charge and so far nothing too terrible had happened to her. Except for being kidnapped she was fine. More or less. Except for being in a place that hadn't heard of proper hygiene. Or plumbing.
Arthur took her foot in his hands gently and started to gently feel the joint.
Zoe whimpered a little when he poked a particularly painful spot. 'It's not broken,' she reassured him, even though she knew he couldn't understand.
He said something in Latin, sounding relieved, and stood up. Then he picked her up and started carrying her away.
'Where are we going?' she asked hesitantly, holding tightly to his shirt. Wool, she guessed, from the texture.
Arthur said something that sounded a little like 'medicine' and 'remedial', so she guessed she was going to go to the hospital (surely it would be a real hospital, and this farce would end and she could go home for real) and get treatment for her ankle. And a phone and then Mike would come over in the jeep, hung-over and concerned and Suze would be making sure she was all right and she wouldn't be stuck with hot (if insane) men who thought they were knights. She really hoped Suze and Mike and the others were all right and that they weren't caught up in this madness, too.
But when Arthur stopped, it wasn't at a hospital at all. It was at a wooden door that, when opened, revealed a large room with two long rows of beds, with torches flaring and candles lit. Very few of them were actually occupied and there was a slender little old man dressed in a toga flittering between patients here and there.
A loud voice called out 'Arthur' from the back of the room. Arthur moved towards it, still carrying Zoe without much effort. The man in a toga hurried over and started to speak in breathy Latin. His hair was white, his teeth were yellow and his breath was terrible.
Arthur deposited Zoe gently on a bed next to a large, bald man who had a bandage around his right thigh. It didn't look, and certainly didn't smell, clean. Some hospital this was. No sign of modernity here, either.
The little old man grabbed her ankle roughly and Zoe cursed rather loudly.
She heard sniggering, and, turning, saw the bald man grinning and Arthur frowning. Zoe smiled in what she hoped was a placating manner, but the Little Toga Man wrenched her foot unexpectedly.
'Fuck!' Zoe yelled and kicked out at him. That had hurt. Little Toga Man said something to Arthur, whose frown had gotten more pronounced. She quickly apologized to Little Toga Man, who was scowling at her, and looked timidly at Arthur and the big man.
Even without their weapons they were scary, particularly since Arthur had kidnapped her and today he had carried her here without any sign of strain. And, despite her barely topping five feet, she wasn't exactly the most petite of people. Yeah, Suze and Brit were the ones on diets, but Zoe was the one who needed them. And Arthur had carried her all the way and he hadn't even gotten winded.
'Pax?' she said again.
Big Baldie over on the bed roared with laughter for some reason, and Arthur shook his head somewhat ruefully and patted her shaking shoulder.
The old man went away, and she glared at his back while he clanked around on a bench with several plants. He came back with a steaming cup of something Zoe couldn't identify. It smelled terrible and there were little floaty things in it. Yummy. The old man gave her a curt order in Latin and when she looked at him, bewildered, he shoved the cup into her hands, repeating his command.
She looked at Arthur, trusting him despite her better judgement, so when he mimed drinking she did. It tasted nasty, quite bitter and she made a face at the smell. Arthur laughed and mimed drinking again, repeating the Latin word. Zoe did as she was told, until all of the nasty stuff was gone.
The little man talked in Latin to Arthur for quite a while, gesturing at her ankle and then at the other man's leg. As they talked, Zoe began to feel sleepy. Obviously whatever was in that nasty drink was sending her to sleep. She started to fight it, cursing under her breath. What if it was poison? What did they want to do to her when she was sleeping? What if –
Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, looking into her eyes. He said something in Latin, and Zoe caught the word Lancelot and Gawain had used last night.
'Somnus?' she asked.
Arthur nodded, saying something else, but it was soothing. Zoe closed her eyes. 'I'm not going home, am I?' she asked, not hearing any response because she fell asleep, holding tightly to her crucifix.
xxx
A/N: Yeah, I've gone over a week without posting, sorry for the lack of story. Had a bad week (nasty break up with my now-ex-boyfriend), so the writing wasn't coming easily. Zoe kept getting a little emo and dramatic.
Just one thing about this story-it's not about the knights. It's about Zoe and how she deals with this world. Yes, the knights will eventually be a big part of her life here, but it will take a while. They're slaves to Rome, used to fighting for their lives, they way I see them they'd all be quite bitter, and wouldn't trust random strangers like Zoe immediately. They'll get to trust her, they might even get to like her, and she'll end up quite important to them (if the story keeps going where I want it to) and they'll end up important to her, but it'll be slow and (I hope) more realistic that way.
Thanks a million to homeric-don't know how I'd live without a beta! The story is better for her input!
Disclaimer: King Arthur isn't mine. I just take the pretty men out and play with them sometimes.