Chapter II

--

They had kept her eyes hidden for what seemed to her as weeks. The never ending darkness causing her to become paranoid and nervous. She couldn't see where she was and where she was going, nor the people that had captured it.

It was slowly driving her insane. They even fed her, food that she couldn't see and couldn't rely on. Day after day she would try to escape, and each time she would fail.

Someone was always watching, recording her every move it seemed. And each time she would strain the tight leather bonds around her wrist or try to get up she was pushed back down. The bonds tightened.

There were other people in the carriage, she could hear them. Though she had no idea who they were. Every now and then she would hear a child cry, and every now and then her heart would freeze.

By the end of what seemed like a week she was tied by chains against the wall of the carriage. Her constant escape plans had obviously gotten onto the nerves of her captors.

From then on there was little she could do, try as she might her efforts had gone with little success and it frustrated her.

Once she had been chained to the wall she gave up. Her body becoming limb against the chains. Hoping that maybe she could gain they're trust just enough for them to take off the blind fold.

She did what she was told, her mind though still wheeling with possibilities as she waited for her chance.

--

Summer was Woad season, and now that the wheat was cut the knights spent very little time at the wall. They we're constantly called out to fight, villages were raided and Roman individuals killed much to Galahads delight.

Over the past three weeks, the knights had gotten used to Mark's absence. And although they all doubt that he truly had run away like Gawain had suggested. It was a great almost fantasy like idea that they had decided to believe.

The knights were always on the look out though, in case they ever caught a sight of the dirt blond haired boy.

Dagonet was more silent then usual, to the amazement of the other knights, it was only once Mark had disappeared had Dagonet truly started to miss her.

But he had been thinking, if he should tell the knights or not. After all she had trusted him with her secret. But now that she was gone it seemed almost impossible to keep it hidden. From them, did they really deserve to know the truth? He couldn't say, and yet he yearned to tell them as if there was a heavy weight upon his shoulders.

The sun's light was finally dying when they made it back to the wall that evening. The last of the villagers making their way across the fields to the wall as the knights came riding in.

It was a hot summer night, and the horses flanks where hot from the sun. They spent at least an hour to cool down their horses which had become a habit during the summer months, and by the time they had finished the moon was starting to rise.

From there they went their separate ways. But Dagonet mind was still filled with thoughts, and so he hung back. The bristles on the comb making clean lines against his horses back.

For another hour he stayed in the stables, when his own horse could be cleaned no longer he made sure that the others were done. He filled water barrels and food containers, and by the end of it even the stable boy was giving him odd looks.

He left soon after. The moon was only a crescent that night but it managed to light the night sky as if it was full. Only the odd cloud betraying the clear summer sky as he walked.

Dagonet could have found his way even without the moon. The streets almost deserted by human life as he turned a corner.

He was going to talk to Arthur. He was a man that would know what to do, and Dagonet knew that he could trust him with Mark's secret.

--

It took her two weeks to gain their trust. Three weeks after she had been captured things changed. The small wagon became more crowded. More women and children were introduced. Less food was passed around during meals and the small wagon soon smelt of feces and urine.

She had started talking to the women beside her. The women had first been afraid of her, she hadn't known why. But once Mark had managed to get the name of the young women it was clear that she was actually quiet loosed tongued.

Her name was Alba and she had been captured when her village had been raided. She had two children, both boys but she didn't know where they where. She wasn't blind folded though, and she would often tell Mark how they're captures looked, how many there were and who was around them. To Mark's surprise Alba did not demand a history from her.

One morning Mark was awoken by Alba, blinking the sleep from her eyes she pulled herself into a sleeping position. Her face turning towards the women even if she couldn't see her.

"More were captured last night, I awoke you because otherwise you wouldn't eat." Alba said easily. Nodding her agreement Mark allowed herself to relax. An unconvincing smile coming to her face as thanks.

"They were arguing about it last night, you know." Alba continued, her voice airy and easy as if she was just talking about the weather. "They're running out of food, apparently they're going to have to raid more villages soon."

Hearing the thump of footsteps on the wood floor of the wagon Mark waited for the clatter of a bowl in front of her. She was surprised though, when the blindfold was pulled from her eyes. Her eyes burned with the sudden amount of light that her eyes just couldn't filter out. She was then untied, pulled to her feet and brought outside.

--

The halls as always seemed as if they would go on forever. The knights and the Roman soldiers both shared the same building and so the sheer amount of rooms was almost overwhelming. Arthur's room was at the end of the hall, past the hall that housed the round table and up a flight of stairs.

The door to Arthur's room was shut, but the flickering of candle light from under the door way could be easily seen. Tapping lightly at the door, he waited for it to be opened.

"Dagonet, what is it?" Arthur asked, after opening the door. He didn't look like the hero that so many people thought him to be. His hair messy and ink covered his face. Smiling at his commander he watched the man for a second before speaking.

"May I come in?" He didn't want to be over heard, if the maids got out everyone would know in the fort in a day's time. They gossiped too much in his opinion and over the years he had learned that no part of the ancient hallways were safe.

"Of course." Was his bleak reply and Arthur made room for him through the doorway. Stepping through he made his way to the small seating area that occupied half of the room.

His room wasn't anything glamorous; pigeonholes covered the walls, which had been stuffed with old Latin scrolls, which Arthur was particularly fond of reading. His desk was cluttered with them as well, a quill and an ink jar beside them.

"Is something wrong Dagonet? You've been acting strange recently." Arthur asked tilting his head to the side as he waited for his friend to speak up. It was not like Dagonet to be so silent. True the man had a gentle giant aspect to him, but not like this. This seemed almost too odd to Arthur.

"Its about Mark." Dagonet said, his voice clear yet barely a whisper. Arthur was surprised; Dagonet clearly did not want anyone to know. But what about Mark could put his friend on such an edge? What could cause him to act so differently?

"Go on." Arthur answered his voice mimicking his friends as he sat down. Motioning for his friend to do the same, it seemed serious and Arthur truly hoped not. But it seemed like the only explanation for what was going on.

"Arthur, Mark was not a male he or rather she was a female." Dagonet suddenly bluntly said while sitting down. Arthur had been expecting something serious, but this. It took him by surprise an empty silence littering the room as Arthur absorbed the information.

"How do you know this?" He asked, the surprised expression not leaving his face as he studied his friend's own expression. But it seemed that he was being completely serious and honest about it.

If it had been Lancelot in Dagonet's place he would have asked if he was joking. But it seemed very clear to Arthur that Dagonet would not joke about such a thing, especially when he was wearing such an expression on his face.

"Three years ago, Mark was badly injured. She received an arrow right under the collarbone. It was impossible for me to extract the arrow head with out me noticing something."

She, it seemed almost strange to say the word for Dagonet. For years he had known and yet it had played no permanent effect on his life. It had been a spare bit of information in the back of his mind that he had promised not to reveal.

Arthur only nodded, though it was clear by the expression on his face that he was still in a state of shock. Dagonet didn't blame him it had shocked him to when he had first found out. But Mark had been a good friend, and after explaining how she had gotten into such a position he had accepted it.

"What's her name?" Arthur asked, his eyes flicking down to his ink stained hands.

"I don't know, she never told me."

--

The sun was warm against her skin, the breeze cool, her eyes still burning slightly with the light. They had tied her to a tree, their silhouettes in the distance as the talked to each other. She didn't know what she would soon be up against. But she knew it must be important. At least for them.

But she spent as little time as possible focusing on her captures. Studying her surroundings took little time. Though she had no idea where she was. It was a forest; the caravan had at least ten carriages. She could only presume that the slaves went into the hundreds.

Her bonds were tight, as always the gag across her mouth bitter against her tongue. She could barley move against her bonds and so she allowed herself to relax slightly. Taking in the fresh air like a fish being returned to water. The carriage had been almost as horrible as the Hell that Arthur so deeply feared. In fact she felt lucky to get out alive.

The men were done talking their silhouettes coming closer to her. Raising her head to them she felt her bonds being released. Picking her up by the hair, they wrapped her hands in more leather straps before pulling her along like a dog on a leash. It didn't surprised her, not one of them said a word to her.

Her legs stretching to keep up as they kept the quick pace. Her knees and legs stiff from sitting so long, it felt almost as if they were torturing her. Bringing her to a small clearing a good twenty yards from the carriages the leader began to talk.

"You were one of Arthur's knights correct?" He asked, forcefully lifting her chin to look her in the eye.

"Were?" She asked, a sneer coming to her face."I am one of Arthur's knights and I demand to know where you are taking me." She snapped, hoping to get some lee way over the situation. All she received was a slap across the face, her lip splitting as the taste of copper flooded her mouth. "Wrong answer you bastard." The leader replied forcing her to her knees.

"We need your help." Another man said next. He was shorter then the leader, but it seemed that he had just as much authority in the group. His handsome features and strong build standing over her with the same air that Bors gave to others. "With what?" She asked the sneer upon her face morphing into a frown as she studied the men above her.

"Gaul's have been following us for days, and they have finally caught up with us. We need you to help us defend the carriages." The leader said, his voice booming over her, his eyes not hiding his obvious study of her.

"And why would I do that?" She snapped, the proposition came as a total surprise to her. These men wanted her help, men that had captured her for obvious reasons. To sell her as a slave to Rome, and she was suppose to help them with their journey.

"Because if you don't help us, every women in those carriages will be raped. Every man killed and every child sold into slavery. Even you will not be able to escape."

"As if you're not doing that yourself." She replied, angry all of a sudden as they tried to black mail her into doing something that was against all her morals. She was nothing but an investment for them, a way to make money. She received another slap for the comment, her mood only becoming more foul as she waited for they're reply.

She knew there was no way out of helping her captors. They could simply kill her if she protested, and she would rather help them then allow everyone in these carriages to die at the hands of the Gaul's. But maybe she could get something out of it. Maybe she could escape.

"Actually a virgin in Rome is worth a lot more then a broken women." Was the leaders only reply.