CHAPTER 2

The journey was grueling as the band trekked the snow-covered mountainside for days, barely stopping to replenish their strength and provisions. Lourdes, Alecto, his mother, Bishop Marius and the freed prisoners rode in a lone wagon, wheels squeaking loudly as four horses pulled it slowly. Other villagers and Roman guards under the command of the Bishop were on foot, carrying their own belongings. Finally, the knights rode around them in their respective horses, alert to any disturbance and figure that moved around them. The realization that the Saxons were breathing down their necks only pushed them to move more quickly, knowing that if they were unfortunate enough to face them, it would not be a fair fight.

Lourdes tried to ignore the disapproving looks that the knight Lancelot shot her occasionally, but after a while, she took no further notice of him. Keeping her attention to those that she shared the wagon with, she observed the prisoners that were sprung from the cells of her village. A little boy was asleep in the arms of a woman. She did not recognize her, though she recognized the boy to be her neighbour's son, caged inhumanely because he was accused of stealing bread from the market.

As she felt eyes on her, Lourdes looked up, meeting the gaze of the mysterious woman. She was a Woad, judging by the blue marks on her skin. Lourdes smiled politely, receiving only a curious look from her. To break the awkwardness between them, Lourdes turned her head, only to see Lancelot riding beside the wagon through the mesh that covered the side. As much as she desired to look away from the condescending knight, her gaze became transfixed to him. It was only then that she noticed his strong and dark features, his eyes and cheekbones exhibiting strength and pride. The dark curls of his hair gave him an almost boyish appearance, shining a flair of innocence within him. A long, woolen cloak hid the armour that she knew lay beneath, with only his sword protruding from the back to indicate his status.

It was then that Lancelot met her observing eyes. To his surprise, she did not look away when their eyes had met, but only seemed to probe deeper into his, as if challenging him. He chuckled inwardly at her boldness, her immense pride clearly evident. He felt her anger directed towards him, yet he did not blame her. He examined her features: long, straight, raven hair - a sight he had only seen on rare occasions, fighting in distant lands; her olive skin, much different from his own milky white; then her eyes - fierce, proud, brown eyes, a gateway to the mystery that was her being; her stature - neither frail nor weak, but tall, strong and healthy. She is not from these shores, Lancelot concluded to himself, curiosity rising within him.

It was only when Lourdes felt a tap on her arm that she broke her gaze from the knight. She turned to the woman lying comfortably beside her.

"I can feel with them now." the woman whispered, examining her hand in awe as she retreated it.

"What happened?" Lourdes questioned as she shifted to her side, genuinely wondering about this woman's past.

"I was tortured..." she choked softly, repressing the vile emotions that she was feeling, "...they made me do things I did not want to do. And my fingers, they were out of place. Sir Arthur mended them yesterday."

"I am glad for you." smiled Lourdes, placing the palm of her hand on the woman's shoulder. "I am Lourdes."

"My name is Guieneviere." she introduced, slowly smiling. She beckoned to the sword resting in front of Lourdes' feet. "You are a warrior?"

"One in training, I suppose." Lourdes answered sheepishly. "I have yet to see real battle."

"You long to fight?" Guienevere said in almost a statement than a question. "That is rare. Especially in a woman."

"I long to protect and defend innocent lives," Lourdes quickly corrected, heaving a sigh. She did not feel the need to burden the woman with her past and her intentions, but felt as though she should explain herself, "to bring justice to those who are undeserving of freedom, to have some kind of purpose on this earth."

Guienevere eyed her thoughtfully, nodding slightly in understanding. "Though I was always told that your destiny will be revealed to you and you need not look for it."

"I grow impatient, for it has not revealed itself to me in all my years!" Lourdes exclaimed, her emotions getting the best of her. Her outburst caused Arthur to peek into the wagon with a concerned and surprised expression on his face. Lourdes quickly looked away from him as Guienevere gave him a reassuring smile. Lourdes shook her head, continuing, "In that village, I felt static, incomplete. I felt as though there was something else in this world for me, that I had to do something. Frankly, I did not feel as though I belonged there."

"You do not have to feel that way," the young Woad said to her reassuringly, "I can see that you are not from these shores. Is that what truly bothers you?"

"Yes." Lourdes said almost inaudibly.

A moment of silence passed between the two women. Lourdes began to feel restless inside the wagon, and with a nod to Guinevere, she jumped out inconspicuously. Guinevere looked after her silently, and a couple of Arthur's knights observed her with curiosity from behind, but also said nothing. Lourdes wrapped her cloak tighter around her, though she enjoyed the light snowflakes that landed gently on her face. After a while, her pace managed to keep her at the rear, and she continuously struggled to keep up with the rest of the travellers.

This was more difficult that she expected.

"Oi, milady!" Lourdes heard the call in front of her, recognizing the owner to be the corpulent, mischievous-looking knight to be Bors, as his fellow knights called him. He turned to her slightly, bending his neck sideways to look at her. "If yer not careful, ye'll have Saxons on yer tail before ye knows it!"

Lourdes managed a small laugh, shaking her head at his comical expression. "Do not worry, kind gentleman. I simply enjoy the snow."

This conversation caught Lancelot's attention, riding in pace with Bors. He turned to Lourdes, who was indeed at the rear of the pack, just behind Bors' younger brother Dagonet and Gawain. He groaned inwardly, wondering why she even stepped off the wagon in the first place.

With a click of his tongue, he rode his steed to her side, catching her attention immediately.

"You invite death by walking like so." Lancelot scolded her as Bors, Dagonet and Gawain eavesdropped unintentionally.

"Well, how else would you like me to walk?" Lourdes challenged, emphasizing each gigantic step. "Would you prefer me walk like a beast?" She made growling noises, taking larger steps. "Or like a little rabbit?" She resumed to take small hops.

Chuckles sounded from the three observing knights as Lancelot rolled his eyes. The green-eyed knight, Galahad, turned his head, his attention then caught by the laughter.

"Surely, you knew that is not what I meant!" Lancelot let out an exasperated sigh. "Besides, I would not try to cure that dreadful walk of yours if my life depended on it."

More snickers from in front of them.

"Are you sure that you are one of the legendary Knights of the Round Table?" Lourdes questioned sarcastically, raising an eyebrow in mock wonder. "Because really, the behaviour that you currently exhibit to a lady is certainly not fit for one that serves Sir Arthur."

Lancelot raised an eyebrow. "You are a lady?"

"Low blow, Lancey." Bors shook his head, giving out a low whistle. "You invite the wrath of a woman, and it's not pretty."

Galahad winced jokingly, nodding in full agreement. "Aye, you should take that back."

Lourdes' eyes flickered with rage as she immediately took a handful of snow and threw it at Lancelot. He quickly covered his face, but only after the powder had hit him straight in the face. He sputtered some out and looked down at her incredulously, seeing her smile in victory, hands on her hips.

"Certainly you are a demon." he muttered to himself. Though unluckily for him, Lourdes heard this. With a hard slap on the side of Lancelot's horse, she sent him trotting at top speed. He reached the front of the group before he could calm his steed, stopping right beside Arthur and the scout, Tristan. Lourdes simply shrieked with laughter, along with Bors, Gawain, Dagonet and Galahad.

Arthur eyed Lancelot curiously as he tried to shake the snow off of his hair and face. Lancelot cleared his throat, then gave Arthur a smile before turning his horse back to the rear of the pack.

"That was not appreciated." Lancelot sounded, riding beside Lourdes once more.

"How lovely, you're back to enlighten me with more of your delightful comments!" rolling her eyes, Lourdes walked more quickly, taking the sides of her cloak.

Lancelot found himself actually enjoying this banter. He did not know what it was about her that encouraged him to rile her, but to tease her and be given the same gesture in return was, needless to say, different for him. Not only was it the opposite affection that he usually received from women, but it also took his focus away from the battlefield and back into a memory when he was young, playing the childish games that he so dearly missed and longed for.

"It must be dreadful walking." he began once more, though not intending this statement to become an insult. But of course, that is what it succeeded in being.

"And 'tis fitting how a strong, brave knight such as yourself cannot even lend his steed to a maiden." she lashed out, making Lancelot wince. She waved her arms wildly in the air. "You surely scream of chivalry!"

Lancelot threw his head back, his groan now audible. Bors laughed at him with amusement as Lourdes raised her eyebrow at him. In an instant, Lancelot dismounted his horse, almost alarming her with his speed. He took the reigns with his left hand as he extended his right hand to her. Lourdes looked at his outstretched hand, then at his face. She could not decipher his expression, its neutrality masking his true emotions. Lourdes, though, took the invitation, although not Lancelot's hand. She mounted the horse with ease, as a great rider would. Lancelot heaved out a sigh before mounting behind her.

"I hope this will put an end to your speech." Lancelot said through gritted teeth, placing his arms around her waist as he gripped his steed's reigns.

"My speech?" Lourdes exclaimed, her long hair whipping Lancelot in the face as she turned. "If I do remember correctly, milord, it was your..."

Lancelot brushed her hair quickly from his face. "Do not make me throw you off my steed!"

Lourdes scoffed, crossing her arms in defiance. "I would like to see you try!"

"Give it a rest, ye two!" Bors cried, hands flailing in the air. "You've been at each other's throats for..."

"Keep your hands on the reigns, Bors!" Galahad cried, slapping Bors on the back, causing the man to move forward in surprise. A light chuckle escaped from those close by, lightening the sombre mood that lurked around the travellers.

Lancelot gripped the reigns, his arms firm around Lourdes. She sighed, stroking the mane of the steed, ever so gently. It neighed softly, enjoying the friendly gesture. At first, Lourdes was careful to sit as far away from Lancelot as possible, but as the hours dragged on, her posture failed her, as fatigue slowly claimed her, she slumped more and more onto his chest.

"You are leaning back on me so hard, I can barely breathe." Lancelot jested, earning an elbow from Lourdes. She attempted to move forward on the saddle, but didn't succeed much.

Then, they mostly rode in silence until Arthur halted the group in the middle of a picturesque clearing. Sublime mountain ranges loomed in the distance, decorated by snow-covered trees and a frozen river.

"We will rest here." he stated, nodding in the distance before pointing outwards. "Take shelter amongst those trees."

The weary travellers headed towards the woods as Arthur had commanded. Lourdes had nodded off, leaning her head on Lancelot's chest. He carefully took his steed through the small pathway, then zigzagged through the snow-covered trees before halting at their designated campsite.

"Yer certainly doing well for yerself." Bors cleared his throat, riding beside Lancelot as he nodded to Lourdes.

"I do not know what you speak of." Lancelot shook his head, eyeing Lourdes with repulsiveness and disgust. "This...maiden...is disagreeable, disrespectful, and..."

"...almost awake!" warned Bors, pointing repeatedly to Lourdes' form. "Watch yer tongue, laddie, if ye knows what's good for ye."

Lourdes stirred as she felt the horse halt. She blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings. She automatically dismounted the steed as she observed the rest of the group unpacking their belongings.

"We will stop here for the night." Lancelot informed her, following her actions. Giving her a slight nod, he pulled his steed as he walked to the side of his fellow knights. Lourdes made her way back to the wagon, finding the little boy still asleep and Guienevere only waking from her slumber.

It took a few minutes, but most of the travellers unpacked the belongings that they needed for the night and prepared to rest. As Lourdes finished her makeshift shelter, she decided to seek Lancelot, to thank him for his generosity.

Thank him? For the entire day, he only managed to annoy her, disrespect her, and...

He is a knight, Lourdes reminded herself once more. Though a knight of Arthur or not, he is still arrogant!

Fighting with herself, Lourdes continued to search for him. She spotted his figure in a small clearing, standing beside a tree. His gaze was in the distance, and she promptly followed it. Squinting, she caught the sight of what kept his unbridled attention. The Bishop's wife was bathing Guienevere, and she held his stare when she noticed his observant eyes. Lourdes observed him look away, yet return his eyes to the maiden only mere moments later.

Resting her head on a tree trunk, she breathed out a sigh. What was this emotion that she was feeling? It could not be jealousy, for she...

Jealousy!, Lourdes laughed to herself. This is absurd!

But no, she was indeed jealous; jealous of the fact that Guienevere, nay, every other woman she knew, could steal the attention of men. Truth be told, the beauty that resonated with Lourdes was...different. From her skin, to her hair, to her features - it was clearly evident to others that she was not a woman of Britain, but of a distant land. And this difference, to her, made her less beautiful than the women of Britain.

For years, Lourdes had questioned her origins, only receiving dismissive laughter from her parents and pats on the head. She grew tired of this childish treatment and desired a straight, truthful answer - though she had never received it. Lourdes could tell that her parents became nervous whenever she would speak of this subject, but for their sake, she didn't question them any further. Lourdes herself knew that her life was a mystery, and she needed to find these answers before her time on this earth ended.

Frustration, anger and sadness flowed through her, and she automatically reached for the hilt of her sword. Throwing her cloak onto the ground, she took off her armour, their drop to the ground reverberating a clanking noise through the woods.

Breathing out, she held her sword forward, the wind flowing through her hair and the snow falling lightly on her face. She breathed in a steady rhythm, clearing her thoughts. When she became focused, she assaulted the trunk of the tree in front of her, alternately swiping and slashing at its bark. Pieces of bark flew around her, each hit more deadly than the previous. She ended her rampage by stabbing the tree, right in the middle of its trunk.

"Tell me, milady, is it your custom to attack helpless trees?"

Lourdes swirled, breathless. She met the gaze of the young knight Galahad, standing with a sword on his shoulder, wearing an amused look on his face. His dark, curly hair blew softly in the winter wind, with some strands bouncing lightly on his forehead. This scene made him seem so innocent, so boyish.

"Better to attack a helpless tree than a knight who asks too many questions." she challenged without flinching, pulling her sword from the trunk.

The knight laughed heartily, amused at her show of sour disposition. "If I didn't know any better, it would seem as though you just challenged me?"

Lourdes crossed her arms as she gripped her sword, pointing the tip to his direction. "And if I did?"

The knight shrugged carelessly, finding no threat in her being. "It would not be a problem. Nay, it would be my pleasure."

She walked closer to him, meeting his eyes once more. "And is it your custom, sir knight, to accept challenges from helpless women?"

The knight nodded to the tree, giving out a low whistle. "Seeing that you have reduced that once proud oak into nothing but kindling, I do not think that you are at all helpless. What did that poor tree ever do to you?"

Giving out a small laugh at the sight of Lourdes' smirk, the knight held out his hand. "I am Galahad. Galahad the Good-looking, if you will."

Lourdes looked at him, as if impressed. She shook his hand briskly. "Well, whoever gave you that name seemed to fancy you, eh?"

"Actually, I gave myself that name." he grinned impishly, standing proudly as he turned his head from side to side. "Suits me well, don't you think?"

"It depends on my eyesight." Lourdes challenged, earning a look from him. "Possibly when I close my eyes, I can agree."

Galahad tilted his head sideways as he crossed his arms, observing her thoroughly. "That's quite a mouth you have, milady. I was mistaken as to what sort of disposition you carried when I first met you. If I remember clearly, you said nothing to me at all."

"My mother taught me never to talk to strangers." Lourdes retorted cleverly, keeping her face serious.

"Even strangers who saved you from impending harm?"

"Am I to trust a stranger, even though they may have saved me from impending harm, not to harm me afterwards?"

"Would it really make sense for one to save one for harm, only to harm them afterwards?"

"Wouldn't you want your slaves healthy?"

"How would you know if you were to be a slave or not?"

"My point exactly." Lourdes smiled at this, placing a hand on Galahad's shoulder. "You never know. So why would you trust a stranger?"

Galahad opened his mouth to speak, then closed it immediately as he examined her logic. Lourdes pursed her lips in order to keep from laughing at his comical, confused expression.

"I daresay, lady, that I am taken aback by this conversation." he finally began, walking in front of Lourdes. "Every person I have encountered, save my fellow knights, have either cowered at my presence or, as for the women, eyed me with lust."

"There's a first time for everything, Sir Galahad." Lourdes gave him a light laugh. "Perhaps you will take something from this encounter of ours."

Galahad bowed swiftly. "I already have, Lady..." he looked up at her expectantly.

"...Lourdes." she finished. "Lourdes of...well...originally, I don't know, exactly."

Galahad wondered at this, but he bowed again and kissed the back of her palm. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, milady."

Lourdes raised an eyebrow. "You are either quite the gentleman or just incredibly lonely."

"I'm a little of both." Galahad admitted, earning another laugh from Lourdes. He smiled at her expression, thinking about how Lancelot had described her. She was definitely assertive and seemingly hard-headed, but not disagreeable at all. She, in his opinion, was witty and actually of pleasant company. And during this time of his life, he welcomed that sort of company with open arms.