8. Jobs, Brawls and Rescues
The tavern was incredibly busy at night. Zoe had always known this, but being there and walking in was very different from hearing the racket from Braewyn's house.
There were drunken Roman legionaries in their red uniforms, ordinary farmers and tradespeople laughing around their ales and a group of loud men all carrying blades of some sort. Girls threaded their way through the mass with tankards and pitchers of ale or anything else alcoholic, others sitting on laps or draping themselves over appreciative men. Farren, the owner of the tavern, was behind the counter serving a centurion, recognizable because of the helmet at his side.
Zoe spotted Vanora, easy to find despite her height due to her red hair and loud voice.
A Roman soldier, ignoring the fact that she was quite obviously another man's lover (Zoe thought the pregnant belly might have given the man a clue, but apparently the man wasn't that bright) had grabbed her arm and pulled her in close. Zoe didn't hear what he said to her, but she heard Vanora's response loud and clear.
'And if I saw you naked I'd die laughing. Now get your hands off me.' Vanora stepped away from the man and grabbed a couple of pitchers from the table before noticing Zoe standing hesitantly outside the tavern. 'Zoe! Follow me, girl,' she said before walking back towards the kitchen.
Zoe obediently weaved her way through the tavern, following Vanora right to the dimly lit counter.
'Farren, where's Jols?' Vanora asked as she set the pitchers she'd been carrying down on the counter.
The man behind the counter pointed to a man sitting alone with a mug of ale. Vanora smiled and sat down in front of him, dragging Zoe along behind her.
'Vanora.' The man smiled at the red-headed woman and as he faced Zoe, she smiled back. There was something open about his face, despite the stubble and disreputable clothes he was wearing, that made her warm to him.
'This is Zoe. She needs a job and I'm hoping you've got one for her,' Vanora said in highly accented Latin, introducing Zoe and patting the seat next to her as an invitation to sit down. 'Zoe, this is Jols. He makes sure that Arthur's knights survive off the battlefield, as well as being a squire of a sort to Arthur himself.'
'It is good to meet you, sir,' Zoe said in relatively less accented Latin. She sat down, but she wasn't exactly relaxed. For one, she was in what amounted to a job interview, for another, there were men with weapons, and it probably wasn't a good idea to give men with weapons alcohol. Her nerves were on edge now, and it showed in the rigid way she sat and her eyes constantly darting everywhere.
'Just Jols will do. What sort of work are you looking for?'
'Anything, I think. I can mend clothes and clean them. You don't want me to cook, but I will work hard, no matter what,' Zoe promised, flinching at a particularly loud roar from behind her.
'Vanora, are you sure about this?' Jols asked. 'Why her?'
Zoe didn't appreciate being talked about like she wasn't there and was about to say so when Vanora answered the man's rather rude question.
'I owe Braewyn a few favours, and Zoe is living with her. She needs the money for winter,' Vanora said casually.
Apparently Braewyn's name, or Vanora's words made Jols look again. He nodded somewhat reluctantly.
'All right. But if she doesn't meet the standards, she's gone. Got that?' Jols asked, looking at Zoe. 'It's nothing against you, but I have to look after the men.'
Zoe nodded, the sharp retort that she wasn't an idiot choked down by the sincerity of Jols' voice. He must care for the kidnapping group of knights a lot, and Zoe could respect that, at least. Despite her own grudge against them (Zoe felt it was their fault that she was stuck in the past because…just because) and their lack of personal hygiene, they seemed decent, particularly when she compared their treatment of her, particularly Arthur's, to the legionary this morning who had scared her so badly.
Jols nodded and took a sip of his ale. 'I know we need more people working in the laundry. How they go through that many clothes is beyond me. You'll be washing and mending clothes for various knights and servants if you decide to accept.'
'Thank you, I would like to work there,' Zoe assured him.
'Tomorrow morning, go round the back of the fort, there's a small gate there. From that gate, make your way to the Sarmatian quarters. You know which one that is, yes?" He continued when Zoe nodded. "Good. Go inside, wait by the main doors, somebody will come out to show you where you need to go. Good enough for you?'
Fairly sure that she understood the instructions, Zoe nodded again.
'How much are you going to pay her?' Vanora asked.
'Same as we pay the other girls. It's not much, but it'll help. And I can promise you a bit of protection from the Romans. They're not so quick to mess with the girls if the knights are involved. Come early tomorrow.'
'Thank you. I will be there.'
'Good, see you later Jols, thanks.' Vanora stood up and massaged her back gently, as if it was troubling her a little.
'No trouble, Vanora. And if I were you, I'd stop Bors before Dagonet has to carry him back home.' Jols pointed at a large bald man who was swaying somewhat alarmingly.
Vanora growled, forgetting about Zoe and marched off to confront the man. Zoe stood up and started to leave the tavern. Really it was far too noisy, with too many drunks and too many weapons for her to feel comfortable.
'What do you think you're doing?' Zoe heard Vanora yell at the bald man. 'Put that down, you've had more than enough.'
'My little flower, don't worry about me.' Despite his size, the knight sounded downright frightened of the diminutive red head.
Zoe heard the sound of a slap as she walked past the two of them. She looked over to make sure that Vanora wasn't in any trouble. Slapping was usually not a good sign, but apparently in this case it was normal, as Vanora was now engaged in a rather inappropriate display of public affection. Seriously, if the two of them were going to kiss like that, Zoe thought, it would be much better for them to go away in a corner somewhere rather than in the middle of the bar.
Zoe heard whoops and cheers coming from another table, heard some crude suggestions and remembered she was around many drunken men with sharp, pointy objects. She decided to get the hell out of there as quickly as she could.
Unfortunately, leaving as quickly as she could proved to be difficult. The tavern was getting increasingly crowded with off-duty soldiers, street vendors, farmers and even the blacksmith who had mended Braewyn's pots were all congregated in the tavern talking, laughing and drinking. A few of the men were vaguely familiar, and she can tell from the glances and gestured of others that there are some conversations that appear to be focused on her.
And it didn't help that quite a few of them were visibly armed. That didn't mean much, though. The farmers and vendors who had closed up shop for tonight probably had some sort of blade on them as Zoe had learned when she had watched one street vendor deal with a thief attempting to steal from his stall about a month and a half ago. The off-duty soldiers were all carrying a similar knife strapped to their belt, as a symbol of their status, and there was a rowdy group over in the far corner who were playing with daggers. She shuddered and began to make her way through the crowd, trying to avoid off-duty soldiers.
Particularly after this morning, Zoe really didn't like soldiers. They (like everyone else here) smelled terrible, they didn't speak the native language very well and they killed for a living, and, on top of that, her recent experiences with the legionaries had not been pleasant to say the least. She had been…assaulted by one this morning (she refused to think that she might actually have been raped if Arthur hadn't stopped the creep) and his comrade had done nothing to stop it. No, she would stay out of the way of all soldiers as much as possible.
Zoe shrunk as small as she could, not wanting to upset anyone by making them spill their drink or accidentally pissing them off, but that didn't stop men from bumping into her. Apparently during her talk with Jols the tavern had gotten about twenty more customers, none of whom the owner, despite the place being full to bursting, had turned away.
One particular man, an off-duty soldier, going by his sandals (which were typical Roman legionary uniform) jostled her particularly hard. The ale in his hand spilled over, onto the floor and onto his tunic.
'Look what you did!' The man turned, and Zoe's breath hitched and her heart started to race.
It was Gaius Ledipus, the legionary who had grabbed her, the man who had yanked, pawed at and was about to rape her and who Arthur had rescued her from. He was blind drunk and the hand that wasn't clutching the ale desperately was clenched into a fist and pulled back as though to strike.
'You! You got me punishment duty for a month, thanks to your precious Arthur. And you made me spill my ale!' the off-duty legionary yelled as his bleary eyes caught sight of Zoe, his words pronounced clearly despite obvious drunkenness. 'I'll get you good for that, you!'
'No!' Zoe screamed as the fist came speeding towards her, ducking as quickly as she could.
Gaius, unable to hit his target caught another man instead, one who had not been involved at all, on the shoulder, making him stagger drunkenly into another person, who howled in surprised pain.
The man he stumbled into had to retaliate, naturally, and the man who had been punched by the Roman turned to punch him back. Unfortunately, drunken men don't have the best aim and so Zoe had to duck out of the way again in order to dodge his blow. Right into another man, this one a burly farmer, judging by his clothes.
'You! Buy me another drink! You made me spill mine!' Gaius Ledipus screamed, choking a little as the man he'd accidentally punched hit him in the stomach. 'Bastard!' He coughed and retaliated, catching him in the chin.
Zoe caught sight of a man throwing his mug at the fighting men, and raised her arms to cover her head. The mug hit yet another man in the head before shattering on the ground. The man who had been hit tried to charge his way through to get at the man who had thrown the mug, but got punched on the way. His friends promptly joined in too in an attempt to help him out. It was all happening so quickly, spiralling out of control before Zoe could get away.
She screamed in pain when a farmer trying to join in the fight threw her hard into a table. The edge of the table had caught her hip and she just knew she was going to bruise there later. She tried to get up, but ducked under the table itself when she saw a man flying her way, propelled by a punch to his face.
She cowered under the table, as the tavern seemed to dissolve into a brawl of epic proportions. She had never known how dangerous it was to be involved in a bar fight, let alone in an age where weapons were more common than literacy abilities. She saw Vanora, looking angry at the brawl rather than cowering like herself, before pulling determinedly on the tunic of a large bald man, the one she had been kissing before, and dragging him away from the fight.
Zoe was terrified that she'd end up like Tristan, stabbed by a stranger and needing urgent medical attention. She didn't want to have to go to the equivalent of a doctor here, even if it was Braewyn. Zoe flinched as another mug went sailing by past her head. The hygiene was terrible; she was more likely to get an infection than get healthy again. The table shook as a man landed on it, before being whacked by another one. After a moment the two of them rolled off the table, still attempting to punch each others' lights out.
Suddenly, she felt a hard hand on her shoulder, grabbing the collar of her dress and hauling her from under the table and out into the storm of fists, curses and alcohol-induced violence.
'Let go of me!' Zoe screamed, barely hearing herself over the noise of the brawl. She thrashed in the grip of whoever it was holding her, panicked by the violence and this sudden direct threat to herself.
'Calm down, you stupid girl. I'm getting you out of here.'
Zoe looked at the man holding her for the first time, letting him drag her towards what she hoped was an exit. He wasn't particularly tall (which meant he still towered over her), but he was incredibly wide. His shoulders and arms, left bare by his tunic, were extraordinarily muscular. But from what Zoe could see he didn't have a knife on him. Maybe he was a blacksmith? They were large and muscular and didn't kidnap and kill people for fun. Or at least she didn't think they did. Then again, given how strange everyone here was, who knew?
'Let me go!' Zoe tried to tug away from the man, attempting to get him to let go of her dress and let her go back to cowering under the table. At least it was comparatively safe there!
Then she saw the stranger casually knock out someone out with one punch without lessening his grip on her. Sure he had been going to attack them, but blacksmiths probably weren't that casual about rendering someone unconscious she guessed. Or that calm about being attacked with what appeared to be half a broken amphora of wine. OK, not a blacksmith then. Zoe was both reassured that she could get out of here unharmed if he was protecting her, but even more frightened as to why the man was doing this for her.
'Stop panicking. I'm doing a favour to Vanora by getting you out of here in one piece,' the man snarled as though he had read her thoughts. Pushing her through the exit, they found themselves in a comparatively quiet courtyard.
'Let me go!' Zoe demanded again, and this time she was released. She nearly fell down her legs were shaking so much from the fear and adrenaline running through her system. She was torn between the need to run as far and as fast as she could and the one to break down and cry right here and right now. Her hip hurt like hell, too. It was just too much.
She started sinking to her knees, only to find herself supported by an arm as hard as any rock she'd ever felt.
'Careful, there. Calm down.' The man was rubbing gentle circles on her back, soothing her much like someone would use to calm a horse down. Zoe obviously wasn't a horse, though, so it wasn't that effective. Her brain kept dwelling on what could have happened. She could have been stabbed like Tristan had been, she could have been killed, the legionary could have gotten his hands on her. She really needed to calm down.
'My name's Percival. I won't hurt you. Easy there, I won't hurt you. Deep breaths now. What's your name?'
Zoe didn't move; she just took a few deep breaths. He was one of Arthur's knights. So she probably wouldn't be taken away and killed, but he had killed before. The hands on her back had been covered in blood at some stage. No wonder he was so unconcerned by the bar fight. His fellow knights were probably in there now.
Percival smelled bad, like stale sweat. Zoe knew because she was currently pressed against a stained tunic, breathing far too rapidly to be really calm. She flinched a little when Percival moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing gently, all the while murmuring nonsense about everything being all right.
'Thank you,' Zoe said to the shirt in front of her. She was sure it came out muffled.
The man didn't say anything and eventually Zoe pulled away. She looked up at his face. He wasn't handsome, but he wasn't ugly. His hair was longish, mousey brown and flopped into his face. His eyes were large and blue and looked out of place on a face so hard.
'Thank you,' Zoe said, this time to his face. He had pulled her out of a bar brawl; he deserved a 'thank you' at least. Then she turned around and ran while she could, despite the stabbing pain in her hip. She wasn't sure what this man wanted, if he'd really done Vanora a favour, and why he was being so kind to her. People just didn't do that sort of thing. And by that sort of thing she meant risking life and limb in a bar brawl. All she wanted was to get home, to 2008. Failing that she wanted to go back to Braewyn's house and scream and yell and have Braewyn cuddle her and make her a hot, calming tea and go to sleep. 'I'm going,' Zoe said in a voice that came out surprisingly unsteady.
'I'll walk you to your house. Vanora'd have my hide if I let you walk home alone and get mugged on the way or something,' Percival said, grinning as if he was inviting her to share a joke.
Zoe nodded dully, too drained for any attempt at humour. Anything that would get her away from the tavern and from these crazy men with their bar brawls and testosterone run wild.
She limped home, her hip aching with every step she took. And when she fell the man following her caught her. Figured that the only knight who showed even a hint of chivalry had to do the whole knight in shining armour thing, too, Zoe thought tiredly as he picked her up.
'Where do you live?' Percival asked softly, chest rumbling as he spoke.
Zoe gave directions softly and when she saw her house she got Percival to put her down. 'I'll make it. Put me down.'
Percival obeyed her somewhat reluctantly. 'What's your name?' he asked suddenly. 'I've been carrying you around for a while, and I think it'd be fair if I knew the name of such a fair lady.'
'Zoe,' she answered curtly, eager to be comforted by Braewyn (who Zoe knew would be waiting up for her, despite Zoe saying she should rest). Her emotions were beginning to get the better of her and she didn't want Percival to see her break down. 'Thank you for helping me,' Zoe choked out, before limping as quickly as she could to Braewyn's house.
She reached the door practically sobbing and ducked inside quickly, not realizing Percival was still watching her from where he'd put her down. Braewyn looked up from where she was sitting and mending beside the fire as Zoe crumpled to the floor right inside the house.
'What happened?' she asked, setting it aside and trying to comfort the distraught, nearly hysterical Zoe, rubbing her arms and putting a blanket around her.
'I managed to start a bar brawl. Everyone was fighting and then a strange man came and pulled me out. And he wouldn't let me go. Then he did let me go and I ran back here, and I've caused so much trouble for Vanora because I wouldn't just look where I was going and-'
'Stop. Deep breath. Calm down and tell me slowly,' Braewyn said, leading Zoe closer to the fire's warmth before moving to begin the tea that would calm her nerves.
Zoe retold the events of the evening, from her 'job interview' with Vanora and Jols, how much she'd wanted to get the job so she could pay Braewyn back for what she did, how happy she'd been when she'd gotten it and how she'd run into Gaius Ledipus again, what he'd said to her, the brawl and how she'd done nothing but hide under a table while Vanora was pulling men twice her size away from the fighting. How she'd been so scared she'd be stabbed like Tristan had been.
Braewyn handed the tea to her and, as Zoe started drinking it, she murmured nonsense about how it would all be fine, and that Zoe was all right now, so it couldn't have been that bad. Bar brawls happened all the time, they were just part of life.
'That's not comforting, Braewyn,' Zoe growled into her tea. 'Anyway, it was the first one I've seen. They weren't common where I come from.' Zoe fingered her grandmother's crucifix briefly, for reassurance that she didn't belong here. She let it go and took another sip of tea.
'One day, you'll have to tell me about it.'
Zoe looked up from her tea, puzzled and willing to be distracted from the terrible night she'd had. 'It's different. I miss it.'
'Go to sleep, Zoe. Everything will seem better in the morning. I promise.'
Zoe nodded, pulled off her sandals and curled up in the pile of furs that made her bed, not bothering to change into the clothes she wore for sleeping. She held out a hand for Braewyn, who lowered herself slowly, joints creaking onto the pile next to her, stroking her hair.
'Braewyn?'
'Yes?' the old woman asked, not ceasing her comforting movements.
'I'm glad I met you,' Zoe murmured, squeezing the old, wrinkled hand in hers.
'Thank you, Zoe,' the old woman replied, squeezing back.
Zoe hear Braewyn's reedy voice humming softly as she was lulled to sleep by the gentle hand in her hair and her own exhaustion.
xxx
A/N: Sorry about the long delay. Last year of school and all that jazz. But anyway, hope the chapter's good! Zoe's got herself a job now, and she's met another knight. I know there hasn't been much interaction with the knights in general, but according to the plan I have Lancelot will be appearing next chapter, if that's any consolation. As always, reviews are loved, Mary-Sue warnings are appreciated.
To everyone who has read my story, glad you're sticking with me. To those who have put it on their alerts or favourites lists, thanks stacks, I'm flattered you like it that much.
Thanks to my beta, homeric, I owe you! This would not be half as good (or coherent) as it is now without her work. You're wonderful!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn.