"Someone remind me what the hell I'm still doing on this bloody island," groaned Gawain. It was a cold, rainy late afternoon as the knights returned to Hadrian's Wall. Mud splattered beneath their horses' hooves as they trotted along the path.
"Living abroad, expanding beyond your birth land. I hear it's very popular among the Romans, no offense Arthur," Bors jested.
"But I've been living here practically all my life," Gawain contended.
"You never did make a very good Roman," Bors teased.
"Sometimes I wonder why the hell anyone would want to invade Briton in the first place," interjected Galahad, "It's not exactly an exotic location."
"Just you wait," said Jillian riding up beside them, "Someday Briton will be the new Rome, the central power of the world. We may not live to see it, but I am convinced of it."
"That just absurd," scoffed Gawain.
"I'd rather see this place in the hands of the Saxons than as the next Rome," Bors said.
"You might get your wish," muttered Tristan, referring to the recent Saxon attacks on British villages.
"I, on the other hand, think Jillian could very well be correct," Lancelot said giving Jillian one of his dashing smiles, "and I wager it will be one of my sons that first receives the title of Caesar."
"Why would it be one of your sons?" asked Arthur. Lancelot smirked. "Oh. Oh, I see," said Arthur, contorting his face in discontent.
"Don't worry, there's consolation in company, right Bors?" Lancelot teased.
"Gawain, let me borrow your axe," said Bors angrily.
"How's your chest?" Jillian asked Lancelot, trying to change the subject. Lancelot had only recently returned to his occupation of knighthood after spending many months recovering from a cross-bow injury he had received to his ribs during the battle at Badon Hill. Jillian remarked many a time that it was nothing less than a miracle that Lancelot survived the blow. His armor had broken the bolt before it could penetrate too deeply into his chest allowing Lancelot to sustain merely a broken rib and a gash from where the bolt had lodged itself.
"Certainly not as shapely as yours---" Lancelot leered, but stopped short after a pointed glare from Tristan. Jillian rolled her eyes and urged her horse farther forward to ride next to Arthur.
Tristan observed as Jillian and Arthur began one of their routine theological discussions of religion. Jillian was one of those people who were naturally eager to soak up any knowledge they could and she had begged Arthur to teach her to read Latin. She reasoned that reading Latin would be extremely useful as she could then study various manuscripts on medicine. Within no time at all, she had read every manuscript in Arthur's library about medicine and every other topic at which point Arthur, after careful consideration, was forced to relinquish his copy of the Holy Bible for her perusing. Arthur was wary of the gift not because he feared any disrespect to it on her part, but rather because he wanted not to appear to be forcing any beliefs upon her.
Jillian, however, was enraptured by the scriptures and such began her and Arthur's endless debates on philosophy and theology. If it had not been his destiny to become a great commander and king, Arthur would have made an exceptionally gifted teacher for he had a rare kind of patience that allowed for any question no matter how bold.
"Arthur, I am utterly confounded," Jillian announced as they rode side by side.
"And why is that?" asked Arthur, smiling at the dispute he knew was imminent.
"This Pontius Pilate---he is a Roman, is he not?"
"Yes."
"So it was the Romans that put Jesus to death?"
"This is true."
"The Romans killed their own God?"
"Well, the Romans weren't Christians at the time," explained Arthur.
"So, the Romans chose as their God a man they had executed? You are a strange people," Jillian commented. Arthur laughed.
Lancelot watched as Tristan observed Jillian and Arthur's discussion. "Possessive, are we?" Lancelot taunted.
"Nosey, are we?" Tristan retorted.
"Of course, there's nothing between them, but really I'd say that's the least of your worries," continued Lancelot. Tristan raised an eyebrow, but did not indulge Lancelot with a reply. Lancelot continued his speech anyway, "What you should be worried about is that she might become---" His voice trailed off.
"What?" asked Tristan.
"A Christian!" Bors interjected teasingly with a menacing voice. Bors and Lancelot roared with laughter as they watched Tristan immediately gallop up to Arthur and Jillian, interrupting their conversation.
----------
Tarra arrived at a port in the north of France from which she would sail to Briton. Still being occupied by Rome, the port was filled with Roman cavalry monitoring each ship that departed. This would prove an interesting endeavor. Tarra was feeling much better after leaving the crowded city, and was definitely, definitely back in her element. Tarra liked to think she was one of the most dangerous women alive, mostly because of the thousands of masks with which she could disguise herself. Tarra drew in a deep breath and made her way towards a Roman soldier who stood guarding a ship that was about to depart.
"'ello sir, any room on this ship for a poor peasant girl?"
"It'll cost you a gold coin," answered the soldier.
"Aye, sir. Right here sir," Tarra replied flipping him the coin.
"What is your business in Briton?"
"Visiting my brother, sir. Ha'nt seen him in a good long time. He owes me money, too. Stupid blighter, takin' money from a poor beloved sistah. Well, they'll be no more of that I reck'n."
"Right. I need to see your papers."
"Papers? Sir, I don't e'en read what would I be doin' with papers?"
The soldier sighed, "I need proof of your Roman citizenship."
"What matter be my citizenship of a country I be presently leavin'?"
"I can't let you on the ship without the papers."
"Do you have papers?"
"Err, well, yes."
"How much you wantin' for 'um?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'll pay you for 'um. How much you want?"
"Listen, missy, you better be getting on your way. We're about to disembark, and I can't let you on."
Tarra clenched her jaw and drew in a deep breath. She was about to stomp off when she suddenly turned back to him. "I'll be wantin' that gold coin back!" The soldier rolled his eyes and tossed it back to her. She would have to find another means of transportation.
She noticed a man in captain's dress inquiring to another man where the Diana was docked for that was the ship he had been hired to sail to Briton.
"Captain!" called Tarra, waving her hand to him, "Over here! I can show you where it is docked. Follow me!" The captain tipped his hat to her and eagerly followed her as she led him around a corner. Suddenly she stopped and turned to him, looking him directly in the face. He averted his eyes from her nervously, his mouth gaping open in confusion as if about to stammer out a question from his tongue-tied mouth. Tarra, however, gave him not a chance to utter a single word as her fist met with his nose in a stunning strike that caused him to topple over unconscious.
"Beg pardon," said Tarra, stripping the captain of his clothes and quickly dressing herself in them. She then hastily grabbed his hat, tucking her long, dark hair beneath it. She adjusted her posture, standing up as straight as she could. She stuck out her gut and broadened her frame as much as her slight figure could afford.
"You there!" Tarra, using as deep a voice as she could muster, called to a man who waited by another ship, "I'm Captain Norton, remember that name. I'd be much obliged if you'd point out which of these fine ships is the Diana."
"Captain!" responded the man, "I'm Ganis! First mate to the ship of which you speak! I'd be happy to show you where we are docked. Though, I must ask, what happened to Captain Gringham? Was he not to captain the ship today?"
"That he was, intelligent, dutiful lad, but he came down with a severe case of the runs if you follow my meaning and won't be sailing anywhere today. Now, show me to this ship."
"Right this way, sir," said Ganis. He was about to place his hand on her shoulder to lead the way, when she drew a dagger from her belt and held it to his neck.
"I am not to be touched," she warned. Ganis nodded quickly in compliance, his eyes bulging from his head in shock at the knife held dangerously close to his veins. Tarra dropped the dagger at her side and motioned for him to show her the way.
Now in the guise of a respected captain, Tarra easily evaded any Roman attention. Once aboard the ship, it occurred to her that she actually knew nothing about sailing a vessel. "Ganis, my boy," she called to him, "This is your lucky day."
"Excuse me?" Ganis replied.
"Step right up! Let's see what you're made of. Think you can handle the ol' girl yourself?"
"Sir! Yes sir! It would be an honor!"
"Well, hop to it, lad!"
Ganis eagerly took his place behind the wheel and began calling out orders to the crew. Tarra breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back against the rail of the ship. She watched as the French port grew smaller and smaller into the distance.
"Will this be your first visit to Briton, sir?" asked Ganis.
"Indeed," answered Tarra, "Yours?"
"Oh, no," Ganis said, "I was born and raised there. Worked on a Roman farm before their withdrawal. Now, I'm no braggard, but I will say that I am in close association with the king."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, fought with him at Badon Hill. Like I said, I'm not one to boast, but I fought bravely that day. That I did. That was before I got into the shipping business."
"Very interesting," Tarra replied, bored to death by his speech.
Their conversation, however, was suddenly interrupted by a number of the crewmen taking position in the middle of the deck and brandishing their swords.
"Nobody move! We're taking over the ship!" called out the one who seemed to be their leader, a large hairy man with a dark beard.
Well, this is lovely, Tarra thought. "Identify yourself, sir," called Tarra to the crewman.
"I am Raywold the Saxon," he replied proudly, "and my comrades and I will be bringing this ship into Briton and relieving it of its cargo."
"A very well conceived plan," Tarra said, "I applaud you. Tell me, Raywold, do you consider yourself an intelligent man?"
Raywold seemed caught off-guard by the question. "Well, yes, I suppose," he replied.
"I thought that might be the case. I'll tell you what. I wager all the cargo on this ship that you aren't half as intelligent as my first mate here, Ganis."
Ganis was about to stammer out an objection, but Tarra stifled him with a sharp glare.
"Bollocks!" remarked the proud Saxon.
"Let's put it to the test then, shall we?" offered Tarra, "I'll pose a question and whoever answers it correctly claims as his property the cargo of this ship. What say you?"
"May the Saxon blood retreat from my veins if ever I, Raywold son of Hygelac, back down from a challenge!" was his reply.
"Very well then," Tarra replied, "Here is the question: I'm the part of the bird that's not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry. What am I?" Tarra walked slowly over to where Raywold stood, looking at him menacingly in the eyes. Raywold's eyes scanned his fellow crewman hoping to find the answer in their expressions.
"Come now," taunted Tarra, "any fool could guess it."
Raywold furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. "It's a trick!" he cried, "A bird leaves no part of itself on ground and I've never seen anything rise from the ocean with not a drop of water!"
Tarra smiled slyly. "Ganis," she called, "What say you? I have not a single doubt you know the answer. Not a---single---doubt."
Ganis stood silent for a moment wracking his brain for the answer. Finally he cried in exultation, "A shadow! A shadow remains on the ground while the bird is in the sky and can swim in the ocean and come out dry!"
Tarra smiled proudly at her first mate. "Good," she said approvingly, "Now, let's see if Raywold be a shadow, shall we?" With that, Tarra snatched the sword from Raywold's hands and kicked him off the side of the ship. "By the splash, it appears he's not," Tarra jested. She then turned to the rest of the crew pointing her sword at them in warning. "Now then," she said firmly, "any others care to join him? No? Very well. Get back to work."
"Captain!" cried Ganis, "That was---genius!"
"Devoted shipmate, I believe it is you who has earned the title of genius today," Tarra answered him with a grin.