CHAPTER 6

The day's events replayed in Lourdes' mind. As fatigued as her body was, her mind would not let her have peace. Her first kill. Her origins revealed. And Galahad...

So much she didn't understand. So much pain. So much confusion. She felt as though she could take no more. What was she to do? Her life had changed tremendously, her fate becoming unraveled before her very eyes. What path was she to take? What was she to do amongst all the war, violence and hatred? She knew that she was surrounded by knights, by fellow villagers.

But for once in her life, she felt completely alone.

Crawling from her makeshift bed, she exited her tent once more, feeling so cold, confined. She made her way towards the fire in the middle of the encampment, still burning brightly, viciously. Wrapping her cloak even more tightly around her, she took a seat beside the flames.

"I see I am not the only one who's having a sleepless night."

Lancelot appeared from the shadows, taking a seat beside Lourdes. She noticed that he was wearing only his breeches and a linen shirt under his cloak. He rested his arm on his knee as the two kept their eyes on the crackling fire.

"How do you do it, Lancelot?"

Lancelot's gaze finally turned to Lourdes. "What?"

"Be a knight." she stated simply, hugging her knees closer to her. "Killing left and right, knowing that every day may be your last..."

"It is my duty." Lancelot replied, then, with a tone of disgust, "If it were not for this last mission, I would have been a free man. I would have gone back to Sarmatia, taken a wife and started a family. Fifteen years of this life, and it was supposed to end that night."

Lourdes frowned, feeling guilty for bringing up a sore subject. "I am sorry, Lancelot, I did not mean to..."

"It is alright. All of the knights here are in the same predicament."

"Even Arthur?"

"Yes. He bears guilt for taking this mission and placing it upon all of our shoulders."

Lourdes placed a comforting hand on Lancelot's shoulder. "Take comfort in the fact that your journey is almost finished, but mine has only begun."

Lancelot looked at her questioningly, furrowing his brows. "W-what do you mean?"

"My life changed today. Tremendously." she answered, unable to keep his gaze. "I know who I am. I am a -"

"You are not a murderer." Lancelot finished sharply, clearly mistaking Lourdes' meaning.

Lourdes shook her head quickly, "No, that is not all of it."

"Milady, of what do you speak of?"

Looking around cautiously around them, Lourdes decided not to take any chances. Standing up, she held an outstretched hand to Lancelot. He took it without saying a word, and she led him to her tent. Lancelot stopped at the entrance, but Lourdes beckoned for him to follow her. He hesitated for a moment, but finally stepped inside.

Lourdes placed her cloak on the ground, sitting down once again on her makeshift bed. Lighting a candle, she could see Lancelot looking a bit nervous as he sat down across from her. Neither of them spoke for a few moments as Lourdes finally realized the intimacy of their situation.

"I...I feared for you today." Lancelot finally began, clearing his throat in the process. "The thought of me not being able to protect you..."

"...is a blow to your knightly pride?" Lourdes finished with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Do not worry, milord, your pride is in tact."

Lancelot managed a rueful grin. "As disagreeable as you may be, it might surprise you to know that I actually do care about whether you live or not. If you died, who else am I to argue with?"

"Yourself?"

"That wouldn't be much fun, now would it?"

The laughter died down, and once again both began to feel their woes. Lourdes looked up at the knight, kneeling forward to take his hand in hers.

"I must leave, Lancelot." she whispered, almost inaudibly. The gravity of her dilemma finally took hold of her conscience. "I place everyone in grave danger."

"I do not understand..." Lancelot placed a hand on the side of her face. "If you leave, you are only placing yourself in danger. What could the Saxons want with only you?"

Lourdes opened her mouth in answer when Lancelot continued, "Arthur will not have it," he looked away briefly from her, "and I will not either."

Sighing, Lourdes closed her eyes. "Lancelot, if I speak more of my predicament, I will only cause you more worry. Things are better left as they are. You must trust me."

"I will certainly not leave you to fend for yourself, not with the Saxons so close to our tails. You have no idea where your family is, either."

Lourdes wanted to speak again, but held her tongue as she realized that Lancelot was right. Merlin had not spoken about her adopted parents' whereabouts, and with the war at hand, she would not last a night by her lonesome.

"It is folly to set out on your own, Lourdes, for whatever reason." Lancelot heaved a sigh, searching Lourdes' eyes. He was confused as to her reasoning for thinking such things. "If you are inclined to do so, speak with Arthur. You know he will have your full confidence."

Almost immediately, Lourdes shook her head. "I do not want to burden him - or any of you and the other knights, for that matter - with my news."

"I fear it's too late for that." replied Lancelot with a tint of sarcasm. He tilted his head playfully to the side. "Now lady, if you would be so kind as to tell me the reasoning behind all of this, say it now, for I am beginning to think you had other reasons for bringing me here."

Lourdes' jaw dropped, first in surprise, then in offense. "Fie on you, sir, for thinking so ill of me and my virtue! If only you had any idea..."

Amused, Lancelot sat beside her, smirking. "You are too easy to rile."

"And you, sir, must learn not to purposely offend ladies."

"Whyever not?"

"Because it's rude, disrespectful and..."

Lancelot brought his face closer to Lourdes' slowly, making her tense. "And?"

Looking away from him, Lourdes shrugged. "I do not know. I do not know anything anymore, milord. I feel as though I've been shown my path, yet I do not know how to travel through it."

Ever so slowly, Lancelot raised his hand, placing it directly upon Lourdes' heart.

"What does this tell you?" he said in a mere whisper, looking deeply into her eyes. Lourdes stopped for a moment, sifting through her jumbled emotions and swirling thoughts.

"It tells me to...find the truth and...reclaim what is mine." she replied slowly, taking Lancelot's hand in hers. "And that if you place your hand a little lower, I might just have to..."

"I apologize, my hand was slipping, and..."

"I'm sure it was."

Clearing his throat quickly, Lancelot stood, bending his neck a little before his head touched the top of the tent. "We shall travel all day tomorrow, so it is best that you rest and that you momentarily forget what plagues your mind." He made his way to the front of the tent, and turning, he said, "In the evening, we will stop by a little village for more supplies and rest."

Lourdes gave him an amused grin before nodding. "Good night, Sir Lancelot."

Lancelot gave her the same expression. "Good night, Lady Lourdes."

t t t

By some miracle, Lourdes managed to sleep for a few hours that night. From the moment she woke, memories of the previous day's revelations and situations flooded into her memory. So much for momentarily forgetting what plagued her mind! It was impossible, really, when Lourdes felt so useless and powerless at the same time; when she knew that she had no army under her command to fight back the Saxon invaders, to return her to her homeland and rightful place as a princess.

Immediately after she exited her shelter and began to pack her belongings, she spotted Arthur approaching Galahad, who was preparing his white stallion. Arthur seemed to approach him with great caution, his face revealing sorrow. Galahad smiled at his arrival, patting his horse before turning his full attention to Arthur. Their voices were inaudible to Lourdes, but Galahad's expression made Lourdes' heart ache.

Arthur placed his hand on Galahad's shoulder as the young knight bowed his head to the ground. His eyes were on fire, and he was heavily breathing. He swiftly turned his attention back to Arthur. Galahad said a few words to his captain before he mounted his horse and galloped away. Arthur called after him, but Galahad did not turn back.

It was then that Lourdes ran to Arthur's side, her eyes filled with concern and question.

"Sir Arthur!" she called out, taking the side of his arm. "What is the matter with Galahad? Why has he..."

Arthur exhaled deeply. "Lady Lourdes, I fear that Galahad will not be himself for a few days. He will need his time to be alone, and..."

"I do not understand..."

"You must not worry." Arthur placed a hand on Loudes' head. "We need to begin our journey again. Sir Galahad will surely follow us when he feels that he can."

With a forced smile, Arthur returned to his tent. Lourdes looked at the direction where Galahad had disappeared to. For the weeks that she had known him, she had never seen him behave so erratically. What could Arthur have told him that could make him run off so quickly?

The trek to the village of Staffordshire had a solemn air to it. Arthur and all of his knights seemed to be filled with sorrow and only spoke when it was necessary. Even after four hours, Galahad still did not appear, his belongings packed inside the wagon. Lourdes could not help but worry, constantly looking around her in search of the knight.

Suddenly, she was pulled of her horse and dragged to the ground. She blinked twice, feeling the touch of a blade on her neck. She didn't dare speak. Swords unsheathed around her, and the entire convoy halted.

"I have the girl!" Lourdes looked up at the sound of the voice, seeing that it was the Bishop Marius. He held her steady as she tried to squirm from his grasp. He turned swiftly to his officers. "Kill them!"

Before his soldiers could advance at Arthur and his knights, a sword ripped through the Bishop's body, protruding only mere inches away from Lourdes. She winced as the dagger in the Bishop's hand cut her slightly as his limp body fell slowly to the ground.

The Bishop's soldiers stopped their attack on Dagonet, turning to see Arthur and Lancelot approaching.

"You have a choice," Arthur warned, holding his sword up, "You help, or you die."

The chief commander looked around, seeing that even if they did outnumber the knights, they would not be able to win the battle. "Put down your weapons!" he commanded quickly. "Do it now!"

The soldiers did as they were told, their swords clanging together as they hit the ground. Arthur nodded to Jols, their servant, who proceeded to pick up their weapons. Lourdes held on to her wound, thankful that the cut was merely a scratch. She walked away from the body of the dead Bishop, breathing heavily. Lancelot strode towards her, but before either of them could speak, Gawain and Tristan galloped to the group with haste.

It was then that Tristan dropped a bow at Arthur's feet. "They're close. We have no time."

Taking note of the danger, Arthur gave him a curt nod. "You ride ahead."

With a kick of his horse, Tristan was gone as stealthily as he had arrived.

"Let me see your wound."

Lourdes then turned to Lancelot, who took her hand away from her neck, closely eyeing the cut.

He gave her a smirk. "I think you'll live." Pulling the sword from the Bishop's body, he wiped the blade clean, sheathing one of his twin swords on his belt.

"If you save me again, I think I shall die from hurt pride." Lourdes said softly, clearing her throat.

Lancelot understood this as her way of thanking him and grinned impishly. "It is my duty to save damsels in distress."

Bors stopped beside them, holding the reigns of Lourdes' horse. "The men always seem to pick on ye, lass." he chuckled, patting Lancelot on the back. "And it seems like this lad is never too far behind to save ye."

Lourdes almost blushed at this, picking up the suggestive meaning in Bors' voice. Lancelot only laughed, his eyes twinkling has he looked at Lourdes.