CHAPTER 4

For weeks of their journey, Lourdes learned more and more about each of the knights. She was quick to realize how the band of knightly brothers were so alike, yet so different at the same time, from one another. Each carried such different dispositions and demeanors, and even if she wished to or not, she had to interact with every one of them.

She took a natural liking to Bors, the eldest of the group. His jolly disposition made her laugh countless times, and his heart-warming stories about his lover, Vanora, and his eleven children helped her pass the time. It also made her wonder how he could bear to be away from all of them and made her respect the man even more. He also spoke about his brother and fellow knight, Dagonet, whom she spoke with about the art of healing - his specialty, she was surprised to know, aside from the art of wielding an axe!

Gawain and Tristan were the quiet ones of the knights - especially Tristan. Lourdes wondered about his past, for he seemed so distant, always scouting alone, also seeming to enjoy only his hawk's company. She dared not question him or the other knights about his actions, but she did conclude that he was not as dangerous as he seemed. Countless times she had observed his little gestures to his fellow knights, a flash of emotion showing in his face before leaving in an instant. He had even shown her a different, softer side of him, telling her about his hawk and different scouting techniques. She enjoyed that type of interaction with the man, knowing that he rarely spoke, and that they were moments to be cherished indeed.

As funny it may sound, Lourdes began to look at Arthur and Guinevere as a father and mother figure. She had confided in them countless times, explaining her pain, anguish, but also her gratitude and happy past. She knew she had a companion in Guinevere and a strong protector in Arthur, and being in their company brought her even more comfort.

And Lancelot? Where should she even begin about this cad of a man? Aside from all the stories she was told of him and is promiscuous ways with women, she observed it for herself many times whenever they would stop by a village or encampment. He had a way with words, she admitted, and was more than capable of wooing women to his bed. It even pained her to admit that the man was endowed with good looks, but it disgusted her how he only used them and his witty, beguiling remarks for his own pleasure - clearly, no noble intentions, just, in his case, 'unchivalrous fun'. Throughout the journey, he did continue to poke fun at her, obviously enjoying the way that his words angered her. Gradually, Lourdes learned to tolerate his presence, replying only half-heartedly to his jests. Though, the knights used their bickering as their form of amusement, the witty banter taking their minds off of their grave mission.

Lourdes kept mostly in Galahad's company. The young knight spoke about his childhood, his adventures and his sorrows. She listened intently, feeling wonder as well as inexperience. Compared to his man, she was only a child, although they were only four years apart, with Lourdes at twenty and Galahad at twenty and four. Although she would never openly admit it, especially not to Galahad himself, his childish ways when speaking about his life and the adventures he had taken part in intrigued her. She enjoyed confiding in the knight because he listened, always pointing out the positive aspects of her circumstances and even mentioning how to make even the most unfortunate of circumstances tolerable. Lourdes was thankful to have such company, for if it were not for Galahad and his comforting words, she would not be in such a state as she was in now.

Upon stopping for another rest, Lourdes and Galahad resumed their conversation as they both began to unload their belongings.

"But if an opponent is down and disarmed, wouldn't the best decision be to kick their weapon out of the way?" Lourdes questioned as she emptied the contents of her sac.

"Yes, that is true. Though, if you do not do so quickly enough, this will give them enough time to react, even kick you down." Galahad pointed out, placing his hand on his chin as the sac that he held fell to his elbow. "Then again, you could always just kill him."

Lourdes laughed, pushing him in jest. He chuckled in return as she walked a little further from him, laying out the linen that would become her makeshift tent. In a flash, Galahad quickly unsheathed his sword, placing the tip of the blade on her back.

"And what does one do when one is in this position?" he challenged lightly, clearing his throat.

Lourdes turned her head to him slightly, and in one swift move, she unsheathed her sword, locking blades with him. Galahad looked at her, impressed and surprised at her dexterity.

"Didn't see that coming." he exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Never underestimate your opponent." she stated, pushing his sword closer to him. "I thought you knew that."

As this was happening, Lancelot set out to look for Galahad. Seeing the two in the clearing, he squinted, not believing the sight before him. His eyes were not deceiving him - Lourdes and Galahad seemed to be sparring! His interest piqued, he sat at the foot of a tree, placing his arm on a knee as he watched them closely.

Galahad used a great deal of his strength to push her back, causing her to stumble. Quickly recovering and regaining her balance, Lourdes struck Galahad from above, but he quickly blocked her blow. She swung the sword in a circular motion, trying his left side. Another swift block by Galahad.

"I am starting to think that the knights these stories speak of do exist." commented Lourdes tauntingly, causing Galahad to chuckle as they continued their fight.

"I am starting to think you are not a woman of this world." Galahad stated, impressed by her skill. "You swing with much force and swiftness - much better than many warriors I have fought."

"Galahad." Lancelot finally called out when he noticed their pause. "Arthur desires to speak with you."

Galahad nodded to his fellow knight. "You keep practicing, milady." he turned to Lourdes, patting her on the back. "You could be one of Arthur's knights in no time!"

As Lancelot heard this comment from Galahad, he became impressed, seeing that the knight rarely had positive comments about the skills of others. He walked to Lourdes' side, softly crushing the newly fallen snow beneath his feet. He crossed his arms.

"It seems you have impressed one of my fellow knights with the sword and..." Lancelot cleared his throat, scanning Lourdes' form. "...with other things."

Lourdes looked at the smirking man wearily, crossing her arms as well. "Do leave me be." Shaking her head, she let out an exasperated sigh, gathering her belongings in her arms. She could not explain why Lancelot bothered her so.

"Galahad is an excellent fighter, and for him to comment on your skills with such...approval...is a wondrous occasion." the knight continued, matching Lourdes' pace as she walked further from the encampment.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think that you were doubting my skills." retorted the young maiden, placing her belongings softly on the ground as she took a handful of water in her palms. Feeling the intense cold of the water, she quickly washed her hands and face, cleaning the dirt from the previous spar.

"Not only am I doubting your skills, but I am beginning to doubt Galahad's judgment." Lancelot knew that this would anger Lourdes completely. He could not fathom why he provoked the poor maiden so, but it only continued to amuse him: the anger that resonated through her, as much as she tried to conceal it, and the fire in her eyes when she is insulted. Lancelot was clearly entertained, and any entertainment was a welcome distraction.

Flipping water into Lancelot's face, Lourdes stood and turned to him, her face sour. "I do not know why you provoke me so, but I assure you..."

Suddenly, Lancelot nervously placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. "Shh. Keep quiet and stay still." He quickly scanned his surroundings, brown eyes darting from side to side, his sensitive ears picking up heavy footsteps around them. Lancelot squinted, taking the hilt of his sword as he lifted an arm to keep Lourdes behind him. As he noticed another movement, he immediately pushed Lourdes behind a tree, stepping beside her in an instant. "Stay close." he whispered, pulling her towards him. Lourdes nodded silently, nervously eyeing her surroundings.

Looking around his shoulder once more, Lancelot quietly unsheathed his sword, waiting to hear footsteps or any other sound that would indicate intruders. For a moment, he caught the glimpse of the sun, shining on metal armour. Before he could take another step, a loud cry came from behind him, allowing him enough time to prepare for an attack.

Five scouts surrounded him, each weilding a sword, striking Lancelot from every side. He tried his best to take them all at once, but had begun to take some punches and kicks to his form. Lourdes gasped, hand shaking as she touched the hilt of her sword.

Just as she unsheathed her sword, she was pulled back by her hair and roughly thrown to the trunk of an oak tree. She gasped for air, wincing as pain shot through her back.

"Where d'ye think yer goin'?" an enormous man slurred, standing at least two feet taller than Lourdes. His rotten, crooked teeth showed through his lips as he grinned, casting his shadow upon her. "What's a maiden like ye doin' in a wood like this?" His grin turned into a sneer as he moved further towards her, cracking his head from side to side.

Lourdes gulped, arms shaking as she tried to steady her sword in front of her. She breathed deeply, trying to concentrate on her opponent as she scanned her surroundings. She could faintly hear Lancelot's yells over the other scouts as he continued his fight with them. Lourdes knew she could not turn her back on this man in order to help Lancelot - unless she desired to be attacked from behind!

The man looked at her in mild amusement, unsheathing his sword. "Ye gots more nerve than ye look, lady." He spat out once and commenced his attack on her from the side.

Jumping backwards, Lourdes evaded the side swipe, blocking the next one that came from her left. Her hand stung from the vibration of the sword, as each hit from her opponent was furious and deadly. Although he was heavy-set, his movements were swift, forcing Lourdes to defend and attack with all her might. After blocking several blows, Lourdes finally sliced at his side, tearing the side of his armour and making contact with skin. He cried out, more in surprise than in pain, then gritted his teeth at her.

"Ye don't know what yer messin' with, lady." he spat out once more, rolling his shoulders back. "But I commend ye for still being alive."

Lourdes kept her sword in front of her, ready to defend or attack. Her heart pulsed at top speed, both from fear and from the adrenaline from the fight. As she blocked his alternate blows, the man elbowed Lourdes in the face, knocking her backwards. This blow ultimately sent her to another tree as she tried to catch her breath, wiping the blood that cascaded down the side of her mouth.

As Lourdes looked up at her opponent, she saw him swing his sword, the tip of the blade catching her left arm. She screamed in pain, though not letting go of her sword. The man lunged forward, his blade directly above him. As he did this, Lourdes stuck out her blade directly in front of her, stabbing him right in the abdomen. He stopped after a split second, blood running down his mouth before he fell to the ground with a thud.

Breathing heavily, Lourdes retrieved her bloodied sword, gasping for air as she fell to the ground. The pain, anger and guilt surged through her body, causing her to shake and burst out in tears. The voices behind her were mere whispers, the scene in front of her hazy.

"Lancelot, are you hurt?" a voice, barely audible to her, asked in the distance.

"No, I am fine. Ask Gawain to scout the area."

"I will."

Lourdes tried to desperately wipe the blood on her hands on the white snow, trying to rid herself of the guilt. Lancelot's touch seemed to burn her as he placed the palm of his hand on her shoulder. She recoiled, standing defensively as he looked her over.

"Lady Lourdes..." he said softly, momentarily eyeing the body that laid beneath her. "Are you hurt?"

Although she shook her head, Lancelot took in the cut on her arm as well as her bloodied mouth. Wincing slightly, he cautiously walked closer to her, taking her arm.

"We should tend to your wounds." he stated in almost a whisper. "Come, and...do not look back."

t t t

Lourdes stood in complete silence as Lancelot spoke with his fellow knights. They decided they could spare a few hours, for the band needed much rest. They just hoped that no more scouts came by their area, but if some did, they were more than capable of fighting.

After Lancelot nodded off from the meeting, he led Lourdes to the wagon that was filled with food and clothing. They were shortly stopped by the concerned Galahad.

"Lourdes, are you alright?" he asked worriedly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you seriously injured?"

She shook her head silently, looking away from Galahad's questioning eyes.

"I will take care of her wounds." Lancelot announced reassuringly, placing his palm on Galahad's shoulder. "You need not worry, my friend."

Galahad nodded to Lancelot and gave Lourdes one more look before heading back to the main encampment. Lancelot and Lourdes stepped inside the wagon, feeling much warmer as Lancelot closed the mesh curtain.

"Stay still." Lancelot ordered, dipping a piece of cloth in a jug of water. Lourdes showed no resistance as he did this, looking blankly at the floor of the wagon. He carefully wiped the side of her mouth, the dirt and blood staining the white cloth. She bit her lip from crying out in pain as Lancelot felt the cheek where she was elbowed. "It will bruise." he informed her, dipping the cloth in more water. "But only for a while."

She gave him a nod of understanding, pulling the hair back from her face. Her solemn expression never changed as Lancelot did all of this. He eyed the wound on her left arm, then looked in her eyes. Lourdes finally met his gaze, then began to untie her shirt. Pulling a sleeve off her shoulders, Lancelot cleared his throat as he looked away. In an instant, Lourdes' left arm was free, using her right hand to keep the shirt on her chest. She flipped her hair aside, making sure the wound was visible to the knight. Lancelot observed her once more and noticed that she seemed to feel no shame. Her gaze was distant, and it worried him.

Lourdes' arm stung as Lancelot began to wipe the wound, right underneath her birthmark, clean. He examined the mark, and it almost resembled a cross. She closed her eyes, gripping her shirt more tightly. He looked up at her once in a while to ensure he wasn't causing her too much pain.

"The wound will heal in a few days." Lancelot sounded, placing the cloth at the side of the wagon. "Luckily it isn't too deep." Lourdes observed him tie a secure knot on the side of her arm to keep the wound from bleeding.

"Thank you." she whispered, placing her arm back into her sleeve.

"Your first kill?"

Breathing in and out deeply, Lourdes nodded. Sympathy shot through Lancelot as he nodded in understanding, remembering the first time that he ever took a life. The feeling that he experienced was greater than any emotion that had ever ran through his veins. It was something that could never be undone, and the guilt will never wash away, as much as one tried to forget about it.

Silent tears streaked down Lourdes' face, with her barely making a sound. She pulled her knees to her chest, her chin resting on them. She hugged her knees closer to herself, sniffing softly.

"You were defending yourself." It was not easy for Lancelot to comfort someone who had taken a life, for all the excuses in the world, for him, could not take away the pain that he felt every single day. "You did not intend nor plan to murder him. It was..."

"Stop..." she sobbed, shaking her head. "Please, Lancelot..."

Frowning, he placed his palm on the side of her cheek in comfort. She exhaled, closing her eyes as the warmth of Lancelot's touch somehow consoled her. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, then ran his fingers through her hair as though she were a helpless child.

Lancelot looked deep into her eyes. "You are not alone with this pain."