CHAPTER 1
20 years later
The hurried galloping of a steed sounded, followed by three more close behind. The laboured breaths of the scouts indicated their haste, and they quickly pounded on the doors of the villagers. Alarmed, the villagers exited their makeshift homes, desperate to find the reason for such a disturbance. A deep murmur spread through the group gathered in front of the Bishop Marius' home, which resembled more like a miniature castle. A home, most sarcastically commented, truly fit for a servant of God!
Interrupted by the commotion at the side of her home, the maiden Lourdes ceased her training, placing her sword blade fimly into the ground. Living with only her mother and father, her duties as a woman bored her, and in wake of her restlessness, she took interest in the art of war. Her father highly disliked the notion that his only daughter, who had only recently come of age, was placing herself in the path of danger. Lourdes' mother, on the other hand, accepted her decision, knowing that her free spirit and stubburn disposition was difficult to quell, especially with household chores. She needed an escape, especially of female duties, and she found solace in the art of war. Clearly, the irony of this fact amused the girl. She did not know when she would use the skills that she was gradually building, seeing the nature of her life, but nonetheless, she continued to learn.
Lourdes' long, raven hair was tousled by the wind as she stepped onto the road, breathing in the scent of freshly fallen snow. The crowd began to grow, and the murmurs that sounded turned into surprised gasps. Pushing through the crowd, she sought the root of all this commotion.
"They are heading this way," she overheard a scout explain to another, "Arthur and his knights."
As though mimicking the expression of the scout, Lourdes' countenance exhibited a mixture of bewilderment and confusion. What would the legendary warrior, along with his knights, want from their small village? Perhaps he had dealings with the Bishop, since he would find nothing else of value in her village. The tales of Arthur and his brave knights would surely indicate a chivalrous purpose, an order to protect and to stay loyal to the Roman Empire.
Though they are not Romans themselves, Lourdes thought to herself, recalling the tales her father once told her. These knights are descendants of Sarmatians, peoples of noble origin. Their bravery in battle unwavering - even during the destruction of their entire people. Bound to Rome's service by the oath of their forefathers, Arthur and his knights were to serve Rome for 15 years. That, in Lourdes' eyes, was imprisonment indeed.
Interrupted from her thoughts, Lourdes felt the crowd shifting as they made a small path to the front of the Bishop's home. As her eyes searched the pathway, flashes of whining horses, clinking metal and shining armour passed by her in an instant, as if only a fleeting illusion. Her gaze followed the mysterious riders as they ceased their galloping at the entrance of the Bishop's home.
"Ah, welcome!" Lourdes overheard the Bishop say, greeting the knights in an unusually warm manner. She rolled her eyes at this, knowing the true manner of his disposition. He continued, "To what do I owe this visit from Arthur and his knights?"
Lourdes examined a green-eyed man, whom she guessed to be Arthurius Castus himself, sitting erect and proud on his steed. As he led his horse to the Bishop's immediate front, she immediately concluded that this was the legend, the man thought to be a god himself! His appearance was rough, yet textured with royalty, pride, honour, and most of all, mercy and kindness. As he moved closer to the Bishop, Arthur's countenance became hard to decipher. His neutral expression held Lourdes' gaze, his face masking the true emotions that lied within.
"Our orders are to evacuate you immediately. We are ordered to take you and your family back to the Bishop of Rome." Arthur said in a regal tone, never breaking eye-contact with the haughty Bishop. "It is when the Pope's godson, Alecto, is returned to safe hands that my knights and I will receive our discharge."
"I certainly will not leave!" challenged the Bishop, earning cold looks from Arthur and his knights. Lourdes noticed the band look at each other, even giving each other rueful smirks. She continued to strain to hear the ensuing confrontation.
Then, the Bishop looked around at the gathering crowd. "Get back to work! All of you!"
His guards began to roughly shove people close by. One made his way to Lourdes, gritting his teeth menacingly. She moved back before he could reach her.
"Don't you dare touch me." Lourdes warned him through squinted eyes, standing her ground, defiantly.
The guard merely grunted and raised his hand, poised to strike her. She stood her ground.
Suddenly, a sheathing of a sword sounded. The guard froze, realizing the blade was nicely placed at the crook of his neck. One of Arthur's knights looked down on him and growled with a calm expression, "Swing at her, and I'll swing at you."
The threat was taken to heart, and the guard, defeated, grunted as he pushed his way into the crowd, trying to reclaim is wounded pride. Lourdes looked up at the curly-haired, blue-eyed knight. He caught her glance and nodded, understanding her silent thanks. She was about to speak when Arthur's raised voice caught both of their attentions.
"If I have to tie you to the back of my horse and drag you all the way there..." Arthur warned the Bishop, almost losing his temper, "...I will...my Lord."
His threat did not go unnoticed as his knights taunted the Bishop's guards, moving their horses closer, trapping them. Nervous glances came from the guard's faces to the looming presence of these legendary knights, making them seem as little as ants.
"I suggest you start packing now." continued Arthur, turning his back on the Bishop. "The Saxon army will be here by nightfall."
It was then that a nervous murmur spread through the crowd, the news eliciting a few frightened cries.
"The Saxons will plunder, pillage, and burn everything you have that is of no use to them!" Arthur announced to the crowd as the irate Bishop retreated to his home. "They will show you no mercy. Flee now, and go south to Hadrian's wall. Those unable shall come with us."
Lourdes stared at the knights, finding their news both absurd and bewildering. They expected her to leave her home, take so little of what she and her family have worked so hard for? Did they really think that she could just hand everything to the Saxons, without receiving anything in return, without fighting for what was hers?
The crowd quickly dispersed from around her, with each person returning to their respective homes. She watched in awe as many of the villagers packed in a hurry, desperately scurrying for their lives. Turning towards her home, she witnessed her father and mother sadly placing their belongings in a wagon, painfully leaving so much of what they had earned and toiled for.
"Milady, it is best you begin gathering your provisions," a soothing voice came from behind her, "the band will leave soon."
Lourdes turned, meeting the gaze of the speaker. She immediately recognized him as one of Arthur's knights, since he bore his coat of arms and was lavishly covered with armour and weapons, glinting in the light. He held a proud, black steed behind him, which softly nuzzled his back with its nose.
"You cannot expect me to just...leave my home in an instant!" she found herself saying, much louder than was necessary. "I will fight those Saxons before they take what we have worked..."
She was interrupted by an incredulous chuckle from the knight, who shook his head. "Fight the Saxons?" he sounded, teasing her. "Tell me, milady, how do you intend to do so?"
"With a sword and a bow!" she spat, pushing past him with her shoulders. He looked after her in amusement, following her steps.
"You intend to battle 200 of them all by your lonesome?"
His question made her pause, slightly turning back towards him. For a moment, she said nothing, taking in the information that he had given her. Two hundred soldiers, just to plunder their small village? What kind of evil was this?
"You...do...comprehend this number?" the knight continued with a light chuckle. He found himself amused - a feeling which he had not genuinely felt for an incredibly long time.
"I comprehend it well." It was not the tone in which the knight had expected. He clearly thought that she would be annoyed and angry, though her tone came off as rather melancholy. She did not turn back to him.
"This is a battle we cannot win at the moment." he offered lightly, walking to her side. "For now, we have to run - but we shall not run forever."
Gazing up at the stranger, she found solace in his eyes. It bore mystery, anger, and what was it?
Fear.
A knight of Arthur, afraid? Or was she mistaken?
"Lancelot!" the portly knight called from behind them as he shook his head. "Arthur's doing it again. Come hither!"
Taking one last look at Lourdes, the curly-haired knight gave her a slight nod before joining his companions. Her eyes followed his retreating form before she quickly headed back to her home.
The aura in the air screamed of fear. For hours, the villagers gathered what provisions they needed, and one by one, the families departed for safety. Arthur and his knights momentarily released prisoners, locked in a dungeon by Bishop Marius and his heretic monks.
As the rest of the villagers prepared to flee, Arthur once again stood at the center of the road, his commanding presence gaining everyone's attention.
"Those who wish to fight, stay with me." he boomed, mounting his horse with ease. "If not, flee now while there is time."
Lourdes heard this offer, immediately touching the hilt of her sword. Looking up at the eyes of her parents, their expressions screamed for her to join them, to flee. Her countenance wore an expression of sadness, reassurance and apology as she turned from them. Lourdes' mother placed her palm over her mouth, attempting to silence her cries. She knew that Lourdes' mind had no room for reconsideration, and also knew that time was running out.
"Lourdes!" she pleaded once more as her husband led her onto the wagon. "My child, please..."
"Mother..." Lourdes choked back the tears, straightening her stance as if to mask her emotions. "...I will be safe. I promise."
"Dearest daughter, do not be foolish!" her father wailed, gripping her hand. "We need you with us! You are our most beloved treasure, and if the Saxons..."
Lourdes shook her head in defiance. "Father, give me this one chance to protect you, to fight for your safety and for the safety of others. I know you are disappointed of having a daughter instead of a son, but I assure you, with this deed I will make you proud."
Her father looked at her in shock as she said this, placing more armour over her dress after clasping knives and daggers on the sides of her boots and on her belt.
"You need not prove a thing, my child!" her father continued, his voice faltering. "I am proud to have a daughter. I am proud to have you as my daughter."
Biting her lip, Lourdes couldn't hold her tears back much longer. She roughly slapped the side of the horse, making it lunge forward into a quick trot. Her mind was made, and nobody could sway her decision - not even those she most loved. She could hear her parents' cries as they moved further into the distance.
"Lourdes...my child! My daughter!"
She tried to block out the cries in her head, as painful as they were, and convinced herself that this was for the best. Her parents would be much safer without her presence, allowing the wagon to move much more quickly. This had to me the most foolish or courageous thing that she had ever done, but the safety of her parents were not the only reason for her sacrifice.
She longed to find her destiny.
As the wagon sunk further and further into the distance, Lourdes wiped the tears that cascaded freely down her cheeks. Damn those Saxons for doing this to them! Damn men and their greed!
Taking the reigns of the only horse that was left in her stable, she walked to the cluster of men that stood before Arthur and his knights. As if being examined, the men were spoken to by Arthur, then assigned positions and duties.
"I am the best swordsman in this whole village!" a man she recognized sputtered from behind Arthur, gaining his attention. "I can serve you!"
Second best!, Lourdes rolled her eyes, reminiscing about the fight that she had shared with him - and he so dearly lost! Then again, she could be a swords-woman...
As Arthur gave him his orders, the knight turned to Lourdes, as if feeling her presence.
"How may I serve you?" she said in a meek tone, bowing her head slightly.
Arthur raised his eyebrow, clearly surprised that a woman even dared to walk the battlefield. "What are you capable of doing?"
"Cooking and cleaning, perhaps?" a village man laughed in the background, with others joining him.
"Wield a sword and handle a bow." she informed Arthur, brushing off the man's comment and keeping her head bowed. She could feel the knights observing and even criticizing her, yet she did not dare flinch. If they wanted reassurance, she would be more than happy to exhibit her capabilities. She knew they were still unconvinced.
"What is she thinking?" she heard one of the knights whisper to the portly knight. Lourdes recognized him as the knight that came to her defense her earlier, his cerulean eyes peering at her in curiosity. The corpulent knight only grunted, seemingly eager to hear more of the conversation.
It was then that she noticed the other curly-haired knight that she had met earlier, Lancelot. "This is not mere swordplay or an archery contest." he sounded in a condescending tone, his horse halting beside Arthur. She shot a look at him, yet he continued, unfazed. "A woman like you will not have a chance against hundreds of bloodthirsty men. In the battlefield, one can lose their life in an instant."
"I think she is aware of that, Lancelot." another knight piped in before whistling with his two fingers. Lourdes watched in wonder as a hawk cried in the sky, then, after a few moments, flew obediently to his shoulder.
Lancelot did not seem to hear him, his attention fully drawn to Lourdes. "Have you ever fought in a battlefield? Seen and heard the cries of men, begging for their lives? Smelt the rotting flesh, felt the blood..."
"That is enough, Lancelot." Arthur finally interrupted, holding a hand up authoritatively. He looked almost apologetically at Lourdes, but his eyes searched for the answer to Lancelot's question.
Lourdes looked away from them, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the sudden interrogation. "I...I have not seen real battle."
With a grunt, Lancelot shook his head in disapproval, turning to Arthur. "She is not fit to ride with us. She should have gone with the rest of the villagers."
"It's too late now. They have all gone." Arthur stated slowly, observing the field. "We take her and the freed prisoners with us."
Without saying another word, Lancelot turned his horse about and galloped away. The green-eyed knight and the portly knight shared a look, then eyed Lourdes sympathetically.
"I promise not to be a burden." Lourdes said weakly, darting her eyes away from them as she turned meekly to Arthur. "You have my word."
Arthur slightly nodded, giving her a comforting smile. "I am sure you will not disappoint."