Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.
Author's note: We're getting close to the end. I see a sequel. And I can't tell you if everyone will survive or anything else since this story is practically writing itself. Hence the reason that this is quickly being written. Well, that and the wonderful reviews. Thank you!
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VISIONS OF DEATH
Chapter Seven: The Wall
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He had listened.
Brigid fingered her shawl, her head resting against the rattling wall of the wagon, her eyes taking in the scene before her.
Hadrian's Wall seemed to rise out of the ground like a great beast and Brigid had to remind herself that it was the work of man, not giants. She shifted on the floor of the wagon, glad that no one had suggested that she ride one of the mammoth beasts that bore the knights. Instead, she had been shouted at by the knights for staying behind with the knights instead of traveling with the civilians. She had been ordered like a child into the former sick wagon and dragged by her arm to the wagon she shared with the sleeping Lucan and Gueneviere, who watched her with unfathomable eyes.
"Brigid, what would you have done had the Saxons crossed the ice?" asked Gueneviere, her head resting on her knees.
It sometimes amazed Brigid that she and the woman across from her were about the same age. Looking up from Lucan's dark golden she had been twisting around her finger as the boy lay asleep in her lap, she smiled at the younger woman. "You forget, Gueneviere, I saw that they would not."
Gueneviere let loose an exasperated breath of air. "You yourself have said that your visions can change."
Brigid shrugged and went back to sweeping her fingers through Lucan's hair. Outside the knights were discussing what they would do when they went home to Sarmatia. However, this time Dagonet also rode with his fellow knights.
She still couldn't believe that Dagonet had actually listened to her. When she had seen him lift his axe, her heart had sunk. However, he did not cross the ice as far as in her vision, stopping out of range of the Saxon crossbows but close enough to do the job. Yes, his axe sank into the ice. Yes, the ice had shattered, sending Saxons into the freezing water without hope of rescue. But this time, Dagonet strode back to his comrades with his axe resting on his shoulder, a rare smile gracing his face.
That was until Dagonet saw Brigid standing in the snow and a frown replaced his smile.
Brigid rubbed her arm, certain that bruises would appear in her fair skin. A small price to pay for seeing that the giant Sarmatian survived. She looked at Gueneviere, who had turned her attention to looking out her side of the wagon. Quietly thankful that Gueneviere would not question her any further, she let her thoughts wander. By changing Dagonet's fate, she had changed the playing field.
She let her head drop into her hands, her eyes shutting against her worry. By saving Dagonet, had she sacrificed another? The question rang in her head, driving away her happiness at the large healer's survival. Had she simply saved him to watch him die at another time?
She didn't realize that she was crying until she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She quickly wiped away the tears in her eyes on her shawl, glad that Gueneviere had not seen her cry. Gueneviere had not seen her cry even in the dungeon, a fact she was thankful for. She rubbed at her nose, sniffling softly enough that it was covered by the jangle of the horses.
They had drawn far closer to the wall and the sound of its hinges creaking open in advance of Arthur's men carried across the open plain. They were almost to the fortress that the knights had called home for fifteen years. Brigid wondered what the fortress would be like. They rode through the huge gate and Brigid gaped at the doors. Head in her lap, Lucan started to wake up. His blue eyes looked up at her, curious at her reddened eyes. Soon, however, his attention was drawn by Hadrian's wall just as Gueneviere's and Brigid's attentions had been.
Never before had she seen such a wall--it was built both to protect and to intimidate. The doors slammed shut as the last of the caravan rolled through and Brigid felt her mouth go dry. Suddenly she felt trapped like a bird in a cage. On they rode into the inner sanctum of the fortress.
Lucan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Are we there yet?" he asked, taking the heel of bread offered by Gueneviere.
Gueneviere smiled. "I think so, Lucan. We've passed Hadrian's Wall at least."
Brigid's arm held the boys slim shoulders as he ate hungrily. She met Gueneviere's eyes over Lucan's head, worry in her eyes. "We will be at a Roman fortress, Gueneviere. Will you be safe?"
Gueneviere nodded. "The Romans are leaving. It's the Saxons we need to worry about."
Brigid nodded, absently stroking Lucan's hair. They were entering the fortress proper, the light being blocked out by the high stone and wood buildings.
The caravan finally came to a halt and Lucan bolted from the carriage, dropping to the ground before either Gueneviere or Brigid could stop him.
"Lucan!" shouted Gueneviere, racing after the boy. She could tell that Lucan was running towards the knights, intent on getting to Dagonet.
The Roman soldiers stationed beside the arch to the courtyard started to run after Lucan. "You, boy, stop!" they shouted.
Suddenly the Roman soldiers were faced with Galahad, his sword at their throats.
Dagonet, who had just lifted himself down from his mount, turned to find a golden haired blur aimed towards him. Lucan slammed into Dagonet's legs, holding on for dear life.
Brigid watched Dagonet lift Lucan onto his hip from her place beside the wagon and breathed a sigh of relief. They had made it to the wall, she thought, looking around at the Roman soldiers and the civilians milling about.
Now they had to face the Saxons.
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Brigid watched Gueneviere heading towards Arthur's quarters, biting back a sigh. Part of her wanted for Arthur and his knights to do as they intended---leave Briton and return to the safety and sanity of their homelands. She cared if they lived or died and she wanted them to have happiness, even if it meant that they were far away from Hadrian's Wall. However, if Gueneviere did not convince Arthur and if the knights did not stay, the Saxons would succeed. Brigid knew this as sure as she knew that the sun would rise in the morning. She hugged herself tighter as she stared out over the battlements.
Gueneviere had spoken with Arthur earlier at the graveyard--the graveyard which would have held Dagonet--and tried to convince him of the need not to hate his British side.
"What troubles you, lady?" asked a voice from behind her.
Brigid frowned and looked over her shoulder. The tawny maned knight called Gawain was looking out at the field in front of the fortress, the fires of the Saxon advancing. "Aside from certain death at the hands of the Saxon?" she asked irritably, grey eyes turned quicksilver in the moonlight. She rounded on the knight, hands on her hips. "How am I to save anyone if I cannot even see?" She stormed past Gawain, blind to his confusion.
He watched her dash down the stairs towards the courtyard and turned to follow her. She had become Dagonet's own shadow since Lancelot had carried her from the darkness of Marius Honorius's dungeon. If anyone knew what the girl meant, it would have to be the Sarmatian healer. He had never seen Dagonet so angry as when he had practically thrown Brigid into the wagon and the Sarmatian healer had taken it upon himself to find Brigid temporary quarters near the knights.
He strode towards the tavern, certain that the knights would be enjoying a final round of ale before the evacuation in the morning. He stepped beneath the dressed beams of the doorway and spotted his fellow Sarmatians. Snagging a glass of ale from a harried Vanora with a smile, he strode to the table and dropped onto the bench beside Dagonet.
Gawain tapped Dagonet's arm, drawing the healer from his glass of ale. "Dagonet, is the woman Brigid mad?" he asked.
Dagonet grinned and swallowed the gulp of ale he had just taken. "Why do you ask?"
Gawain shrugged and turned on the wooden bench so that his arms rested on the wooden table. "She just shouted at me about not being able to save anyone if she could not see." He rubbed his forehead. "She seems able to see perfectly fine."
Dagonet shook his head. "She's a seer."
Gawain gaped at his usually silent friend.
Dagonet set his goblet on the wooden table. "She warned Marius of his death. She told me of it as well, though I did not understand her warning. She warned me of the Saxons on the lake. And I believe she saved my life."
Gawain's eyes widened, both at Dagonet's words and at the fact that it might have been the most he'd heard Dagonet say at a sitting in the fifteen years they'd served Rome. "A seer?" He remembered the wise women of his tribe who knew how to heal and could see the past and future with spells and herbs. Brigid did not remind him of the gnarled women with knotted hair and white eyes.
Dagonet nodded and rose. "We should find out what she sees."
As the two knights set off from the tavern to find the seer, Brigid leaned against the back wall of the tavern, eyes squeezed tightly shut and hands over her mouth to keep her cries from being heard. The visions came hard and fast and Brigid was helpless to stop their assault. She saw the battle as if she stood in the middle. She saw Tristan face off against the Saxon leader and saw the Saxon leader toy with the Sarmatian knight. Finally, she saw Tristan start to crawl away, the Saxon leader storming after him and then the killing blow. The scene again changed and she once again saw Lancelot, turning from a young Saxon he had left on the ground to aid Gueneviere, his eyes leaving the man he had failed to kill to look for the woman who had captured his interest. A deadly mistake, she realized as the Saxon warrior picked up a crossbow and sent a bolt into Lancelot's chest. Even though he plunged his own sword twice into the Saxon warrior and he took him with him into the afterlife, Lancelot fell with unseeing eyes.
She buried her head against her knees, praying that the vision would end differently. Hadn't she saved Dagonet? Shouldn't his survival set in motion events to save Tristan and Lancelot?
"Maid, you are troubled."
Brigid opened her eyes to find herself looking up into Merlin's eyes. "Glad I am to see you, Old Man." She let him lift her to her feet and grabbed his arm, stepping closer to the Woad.
Merlin gazed at the woman only two summers older than his own daughter. "What is it, Brigid?"
Brigid swallowed. "Tristan and Lancelot will die tomorrow if we do not intercede."
Merlin frowned. "Perhaps it is their destiny."
Brigid stomped her foot in frustration, not caring that it made her look like a child. "If it was not changeable, then I would not see it." She stepped closer to Merlin until their eyes were mere inches apart.
"What would you do?" asked Merlin.
Brigid frowned then smiled as Roman linen caught her eye. Fulcina, Marius Honorius's widow, had taken it upon herself to help with the sick of her late husband's serfs. "I know how to stop Lancelot. He needs a good woman to turn his eyes from your daughter."
Merlin's eyes followed Brigid's, eyebrows rising in surprise. "And Tristan?"
Brigid rounded back onto Merlin. "He is your task. He will fight the leader. You, I and the Gods above and below cannot stop that. Keep four men, strong and vicious fighters, near Tristan. When Tristan is beaten but before he is killed, have your fighters intercede." She touched Merlin's cheek, silently begging for his agreement.
Merlin nodded. "And what will be sacrificed in return?"
Brigid frowned. The old man was right--there was a reaction for every action and she was playing with destiny. "I've already offered myself to fate, Old Man." She stepped back from the Woad leader and let her eyes sweep over the courtyard. When she turned back, Merlin had vanished into the shadows. "As have you, ghost," she spoke to the empty air. No more time to waste, she decided, hurrying across the courtyard to the older Roman woman.
Fulcina had just raised a bucket from the well and pushed her fists into the small of her back. She let her dark eyes sweep over the courtyard and smiled as she watched Brigid, the fierce Hibernian from the dungeon, walking towards her with purpose. "Good evening, Brigid."
Brigid smiled as she neared the Roman woman. She had liked the Roman since Fulcina had first crept into the dungeon with food for the prisoners. Fulcina had a strength and virtue that her husband had neither possessed himself nor appreciated in his wife. She thanked the Gods that Alecto appeared to take after his mother. "Good evening, Fulcina. I have a favor to ask of you," she confessed, touching Fulcina's arm. She gazed into the Roman's eyes, willing her to believe her. "I see the way that you look at the knight Lancelot."
Fulcina blushed and shook her head quickly. "I don't know what you are talking about," sputtered the Roman woman.
Brigid shook her head. "And he looks at you the same. Tomorrow the evacuation will begin. Tomorrow the Saxons will attack." She stepped closer to Fulcina, making sure that the Roman could see the seriousness in her eyes. "Would you deny yourself the comfort of a man who gazes at you like the air he needs to breathe?" She silently prayed that any Gods listening would forgive her overstatement.
Fulcina gaped at the younger woman. She was an honorable Roman woman. The Hibernian was asking her to betray her family, her duty as a wife, and her duty as a mother.
"Alecto would not fault you, lady. He would want you happy. And we are at the ends of the earth," she reminded Fulcina, appearing to read Fulcina's thoughts. "We may all die tomorrow or you on the road to Rome. It is time for you to be free," she advised.
"And what of you? Do you intend to be free?" asked Fulcina, allowing her to be guided towards the tavern.
Brigid smiled slightly as they stepped to just outside the light of the tavern, pushing the older woman inside. "We'll see."
Brigid leaned against the post of the doorway to watch and see if her plan would be successful.
Within the tavern, Fulcina stepped cautiously to Lancelot, his eyes firmly fastened on his goblet of mead.
"Sir."
Lancelot looked up, stunned. In the two days the knights had traveled with the Romans and their serfs, no one had heard Fulcina's voice. "You should not be here," he advised, quickly rising from the bench. He looked around the tavern but anyone in the tavern was locked in their own thoughts and took no notice of the Roman woman.
Fulcina nodded and stepped closer to the Sarmatian. "I wish to speak with you," she replied, her voice soft and breathy.
Lancelot's brow furrowed in confusion. His confusion cleared as Fulcina took his hand and started to lead him from the tavern towards the room she had been given to sleep in.
TBC….
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To My Wonderful Reviewers:
homeric: Thank you. Hope that this chapter lives up to your expectations and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story just as much as I enjoy your stories.
Scottishgal12: Yay! Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as well.
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