The door to the hall swung open and Tarra strode confidently over to where Arthur and the knights sat at the round table with Tristan following close behind. She ignored their startled expressions and dropped jaws and took a seat next to the bewildered Arthur, leaning comfortably back in her chair and propping one leg up on the table. Tristan glared at her, trying to communicate a nonverbal warning, but she paid him no attention. It was in her nature to put on pretenses, a kind of defense mechanism to shield herself from the world's disapproving eye.
"Hope I didn't miss anything important," she remarked casually. Her composure was unusually cocky and cavalier, as she exaggerated her perfunctory body language to convey her indifference to any poor opinion anyone in the room might have been holding towards her. Tarra's apathy, however, did not deter Lancelot from making his especially vile opinion of her known by immediately getting up from his chair and storming out of the hall, shooting Tristan a disapproving look as he passed.
"Damn, what'd you do to piss him off?" she asked Tristan, pretending to be oblivious to the real source of Lancelot's indignation. Tristan narrowed his eyes at her and cursed himself for not just leaving her to rot in the forest.
"What the hell is she doing here?" Gawain angrily demanded in reference to Tarra.
"I was about to ask the same thing. Tristan, what is the meaning of this?" Arthur asked apprehensively to his trusted scout.
"So much for a warm welcome," muttered Tarra sarcastically.
"Tarra," Tristan said in a tone that was a cue for her stop acting obnoxiously, "has important information that I believe would be of great interest to you. She---repents---of any previous involvement in schemes against you and wants to prove that she can be of great help and use to you."
"I do?" Tarra asked in feigned confusion, but after another disapproving glare from Tristan continued on in a voice that seemed less than sincere, "Oh, right. Yes. I'm very sorry, Arthur. It was nothing personal. And, umm, there was something else. What was it?"
"The important information you were supposed to tell me?" interrupted Arthur impatiently.
"Oh, yes! Right, right," she continued, "As you know, Barak Mahal gave me orders to have you killed. I don't know for sure who commissioned him, but I was supposed to get seventy-five percent of the reward for taking over the job, which I have to admit came about by some brilliant bartering on my part. Anyways, if I had gone through with it, I would have ended up with an extra two hundred gold coins plus the one hundred I was paid in advance by the one and only Lucia Gaius…"
Arthur's eyes widened at the mention of the name. "Lucia!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," confirmed Tarra, "And, being as concerned for my welfare as I know you to be, you might also take note of what I said about being paid in advance for a job I have not yet executed. Executed? Ha! Such a clever turn of phrase, no? Anyways, as I was saying, since those one hundred coins were given to me with the confidence of my achieving the desired results, you can see that it does not bode well for me that you're still sitting here staring at me with a securely placed head on your shoulders."
"Do you ever think of anyone besides yourself?" asked Arthur in exasperation.
"Not really, no," Tarra replied with brutal honesty, "So, my idea is that you let me take your head, and I'll split the earnings with you 50/50. Of course, the money won't do you much good as you'll be dead, so maybe I'll just keep your share and---"
"You really expect me to trust her?" Arthur asked Tristan with a sigh of skepticism, not sharing Tarra's amusement at the situation.
"Oh, lighten up, Arthur. I was only kidding," said Tarra rolling her eyes, "You take everything so seriously."
"Yes," Arthur responded heatedly, "I do take assassination attempts on my life very seriously."
"If there is any resonance in my own trust in her that might persuade you," Tristan answered calmly to Arthur's previous question, "it is in the fact that your head was not the only one she needed to receive the rest of those three hundred gold coins. Lucia paid her to kill me as well."
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows at Tristan. "Yet it was you who warned me from the start of her iniquitous and dubious nature---and you stand here now vouching for her loyalty? You choose to trust her now? After she plotted to take both our lives?"
"We are not so easy to kill," answered Tristan plainly, "Besides, you know what she did for Jillian in the forest…"
"You are blinded, then," said Arthur solemnly, "by your undoubted love for Jillian and the grief over your lost child."
A rush of anger flushed across Tristan's face, but Tarra spoke before he could voice his offense at Arthur's insinuation. "No you are blinded!" she cried, "By your own self-importance and your inability to see things as anything but either good or evil, right or wrong. There is no in between for you. So to you I will perhaps always be nefarious and depraved, but that does not change the fact that you need me."
"Need you?" Arthur scoffed.
"Yes. I know where Lucia is, and I can lead you to her."
"What makes you think that I'm even interested in finding her?"
"Well, that's simple," said Tarra, "Do you remember what I told you about Sultan Arif mixing up his correspondence to his old friend and to the Sultan of Petra, which in turn ended the peace between Bostra and Petra? Now, you may recall my describing Bostra as a very arid land, whereas Petra is lush and fertile. For many years, warriors from Bostra attacked Petra in hopes of conquering the ancient city and acquiescing that land for themselves. Petra, however, as I afore mentioned, is surrounded by a tall, impenetrable wall which rendered every assault ineffective. Though his mistake of correspondence perhaps only confirmed Sultan Arif's reputation as an old fool, I rather like to see it as an inadvertently crafted Trojan horse because the Sultan of Petra, so abhorred and offended by the presumed insult to his daughter that the correspondence carried, answered the mistaken provocation by coming out from behind his high walls and calling together his entire army for an assault against Bostra.
"When the army of Petra reached Bostra, however, they were shocked to find it completely deserted. You see, Sultan Arif had realized his mistake shortly after sending the letter and, therefore, anticipated the Sultan of Petra's response by preemptively leading his army the long way around to Petra. When Sultan Arif and his troops arrived, the Petran army had already gone, leaving no one left to sustain the wall and defend the city. Not only did Sultan Arif's army easily capture the city, but they also found safety behind the high wall from any further attacks made by the Sultan of Petra and plenty of fertile land to farm. The Sultan of Petra, on the other hand, was left with nothing more than the conquering of an already deserted city built on land too dry to farm."
"That's all very interesting," said Arthur impatiently, "but I think I'm missing its relevance to the situation at hand."
"There was supposed to be relevance?" Arthur groaned and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" she assured him, amused at his annoyance, "You see, Arthur, my standing here before you proves that Hadrian's Wall, unlike the wall at Petra, is more than penetrable especially by skulking assassins, but as fortune would have it, you, like Sultan Arif, have the advantage of doing the unexpected. Lucia expects you to remain here in Briton, but why should you? Don't wait around for her to send assassin after assassin. As you might have imagined, after Lucia gave me the assignment to kill you, one of her servants took me aside and gave me directions as to where exactly to find Lucia after completing my mission. I'm willing to share this knowledge with you as proof that I can be trusted. Let me lead you to her---to catch her off guard---be done with this once and for all. What do you say?"
Arthur looked at her thoughtfully for a minute, and then gave a sigh of resignation. "Very well," he said, "Where is it that we'll be headed? Rome, I assume?"
"A little closer to home," Tarra replied with an assured grin, "France---which is interesting since that was the same location at which I was supposed to report back to Barak."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, "What are you suggesting? That there's a connection between Lucia and Barak?"
"Oh, I'm not suggesting anything. I just find it interesting is all. But I suppose it's possible," replied Tarra, "She might have been paying multiple assassins to come after you, including both myself and Barak. You must have really pissed off this woman."
"It's a long story."
"Whatever. It's your business, I guess, but like I said, if anything's to be done, we should do it quickly. And the place to go is France."
"You're points are well taken, and I suppose it really doesn't make sense to just stay here, waiting around. We'll leave first thing in the morning," said Arthur. "Tristan," he added, "Make sure she stays out of trouble." Tarra gave a devious smile as Tristan nodded his assurance to Arthur. Things hadn't turned out so poorly after all.
--------------------
They remained in the hall for another hour discussing the details of their journey before Tarra and Tristan returned check on Jillian, who, due to her debilitated state, was prescribed to bed rest. Jillian lifted her eyes with a smile to Tarra who entered the room with her hands full of books and manuscripts. "Jilly, you're going to be so proud of me," she said cheerfully, "I have every kind of reading material here you could possibly want. Is it true you're to be bedridden for the next two weeks? Well, don't worry about that. It'll pass in no time."
"Yes, it's true. Or at least, those are the healer's orders," Jillian groaned.
"And you'll follow those orders or else I'll bind you to the bed myself," threatened Tristan who had entered the room shortly after Tarra.
"Alright, alright, you can just stop right there," ordered Tarra, pinching her nose up in disgust, "You're corrupting my innocent mind with your salacious suggestions and I warn you, I may never recover from the traumatizing image that is now forever ingrained in my mind."
"Innocent my ass," Tristan mumbled under his breath as he took a seat in the corner of the room.
"I heard that!" snapped Tarra, hopping up on the bed with Jillian and sitting cross-legged facing her. She spread out the reading material between them, perusing the covers as she laid them out.
Jillian watched her with her beautiful wide eyes that were always filled with kindness and asked in a voice that was neither judgmental nor blaming, "Is it true then that you were sent here to murder Arthur?"
Tarra cleared her throat nervously, "Murder is such a harsh word…"
"Aye, but we're all guilty of it here," she said warmly, "I'm a woad, you know, and it was only less than two years ago that I would have killed Arthur for free. So you see, Tarra, I cannot condemn you anymore than I could condemn myself. I'm glad Tristan was able to find you and bring you back."
"Ah ha!" exclaimed Tarra, finally putting the pieces together, "I should have known you were behind his seemingly gratuitous act of chivalry. I was wondering why he was acting so out of character."
"He is still in the room," muttered Tristan from the corner, "And chivalry is not out of my character. I can be chivalrous."
"Yeah, and I'm the bloody epitome of piety," Tarra scoffed.
"You have no idea how happy I am that you're leaving tomorrow," he said with a scowl.
"Leaving?" interjected Jillian with surprise, "Where are you going?"
"Arthur, some of the knights, and I are going to France to track down Lucia," Tarra answered.
"Some of the knights?" Jillian asked, turning to Tristan, "You're not going?"
"I was going to stay here with you. Bors is staying behind as well. A few of the kids are sick and Vanora'll give him hell if he leaves again so soon."
"No," Jillian replied, a little more hastily than she had intended, "I think you should go."
Tristan's famously stoic face was not enough to hide his disappointment. He understood that Jillian needed time and space to heal, but he felt an ever expanding rift splitting the space between them. He kept having a recurring image of her grief ridden face shrinking into the distance. She was like water, and no matter how frantically he grasped to hold on, she would slip through his fingers.
"I mean," Jillian quickly added, "I'll be fine here. Like you said, Bors will be here. And I think you'd go mad having to sit around here all day with me bedridden."
"If you don't want me here, you can just say so," said Tristan with a hint of resentment.
"Maybe I should---uhh---give you guys some privacy," interjected Tarra, swinging her legs around to the edge of the bed and climbing down to her feet. She discreetly ducked out of the room, leaving Tristan and Jillian to sort out their affairs. She was certainly glad she didn't have to deal with all the issues and inconveniences that came with romantic relationships. She was lucky.
Tarra walked aimlessly around the fort deep in her own thoughts, having no concept of how much time had passed until daylight broke across the sky. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. Had she really been wandering around all night? The combination of her soothing steps and the brisk night air had led her into a kind of euphoria that whisked her away from everything that was real, everything of consequence.
Yet, despite her state of complete detachment, she had managed to reach a decision, a course of action. She made an immediate right turn and headed purposefully towards Lancelot's quarters. If he was planning to make the journey with them to France, then she simply could not have any more of this hostility between them. She could handle foes of any kind, and with style, she might add; but a cold shoulder was enough to send her into the utmost discomfiture. But the plan was simple. She would work her charms on him, apologize, and things would go back to the way they were. No problem!
Tarra reached Lancelot's quarters presently and tapped lightly on the door. Without waiting for a response, she swung the door open, but was met with a sight that made her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. Lancelot stood over his bed half-naked, drawing up the strings of his trousers. On his bed, a tangled mess of blond curls cascaded down the curve of a woman's bare back. The woman turned her head at the sound of the door opening and looked at Tarra with piercing, crystal blue eyes that seemed to laugh at her in self-satisfaction.
Tarra felt a lump rising in her throat, but managed to choke out the words, "Umm, sorry. I must have the wrong room. I was---looking for---Arthur?"
"His quarters are at the other end of the hall," said Lancelot coldly.
"Oh, right," stammered Tarra, "Sorry to interrupt. You can just---umm---go back to what you were doing."
She quickly shut the door behind her, banging the back of her head in self-castigation against its solid frame. 'Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, Tarra. Stupid!' She paused, drew in a deep breath, straightened her posture, and walked proudly away.