SEMPER LIBER
Summary: A dying man's final request sends a young woman to a new life at Badon Hill. TristanOC.
Disclaimer & Author's Note: I like to think that Malory would have his legends of King Arthur belong to the ages, but I cannot lay claim to them nor to those responsible for the 2004 film by the same name. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!
Chapter 22: Sacrifice, Part II
What really made Tristan sick was the lack of dignity in it. There was no honor in Kay's death, and no reason for it. He died for no man, woman, or child. He died without cause, in a public place, where everyone who witnessed him laughed in the moments between his fall and the realization that his soul had fled before his body even hit the ground. Whatever pain there was in it came not from sword or arrowhead, and its brevity was not mercy but mockery.
Dagonet and Bors together had to carry him from the tavern, still warm and smelling of the ale that no doubt contributed to his untimely death. He had stood from the bench, demanding a refill of one of the barmaids, and then he had clutched uselessly his chest and fallen across the table with a crash. Tristan trailed behind as they carried Kay up the stairs to their quarters; it was too late to do anything with the body now but hide it away respectfully until the sun rose.
Arthur looked ill at the news. For over a year and a half they had been lucky, if luck had anything to do with it. Tristan felt his disgust expand to cast a shadow on his commander: Arthur was stupid if he thought that, six months from now, he would bid farewell to the seven of them. Tristan stared down at his boots, unseeing. Six months, and Kay could have died without disgrace. None of them would ever be heroes, but even slaves could die with honor.
-
"Ma. Hungry, ma!"
Cariad woke to Tristan's sharp eyes staring back at her from under a mop of brown curls. The ringlets did not belong to her mother, her father, or her grandfather. Cariad liked to imagine, with some sadness, that her own mother had put her stamp on the little girl. She reached out and tousled her daughter's hair, then pulled the little girl up onto the bed beside her.
Lowri laughed, struggling in her mother's embrace. "Ma!" she squealed.
"What?" Cariad laughed.
"Where da?"
Cariad sat up quickly. The sun was shining soft and warm out the window, veiled with the light mist of new morning. Her heart beat wildly: had she slept so soundly as to miss him? "I do not know, little girl." She looked down at Lowri and forced a smile. "Shall we eat and then go find him?"
Lowri nodded firmly, her curls falling into her eyes. "Hungry."
"Right, hungry," Cariad repeated, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She lifted Lowri and brought her into the front room which, besides serving as a kitchen, was also currently Lowri's bedroom. The two-year-old has such affection for the cubby beneath the board that Cariad had finally moved her low cot there, buried it in blankets, and sighed with relief that she could put her daughter to sleep at night without a temper tantrum.
As Lowri settled herself in her cubby, munching happily on the wooden horse she'd hidden between the blankets, Cariad sliced a loaf of bread and smeared each piece with some of Vanora's plum preserves. "We will sit at the table?" Cariad asked, lean down to peer beneath the board.
"No!" Lowri shouted joyfully.
Sighing, Cariad slid the slices of bread onto a plate and sat cross-legged on the floor. "Right," she said, not unhappily. "No."
"No!" Lowri repeated.
Cariad traded her daughter a slice of bread for the well-loved horse. "Your favorite," she said of the spread.
"No!" Lowri shoved half the bread into her mouth and giggled madly when Cariad nearly dropped the plate on the floor in her haste to keep her daughter from choking.
"Come on, kitten," Cariad grumbled. "Just eat like a person, eh? Not a horse?"
Lowri chewed her breakfast, clearly not listening. Her eyes were focused somewhere the left of the hearth, watching the dust motes dance from the window down to some sunlight spot on the wall.
"Very well." Cariad ate slowly, watching Lowri's fascination with the world play out openly on her face. Lost in the sight of her daughter and the sweet comforting fullness that came with Vanora's preserves, she did not heard Tristan's approach, and startled when the door swung open.
Lowri was the first to speak: "Da!" She crawled out from beneath the board and lifted her hands towards him.
Tristan looked at her briefly, then ignored her. He did not offer his hand to Cariad as she rose carefully from the floor, the remains of breakfast balanced on the plate in her hand. She set it on the board, waiting for him to speak.
"Da!" Lowri repeated, clenching and unclenching her fists in a desperate plea for Tristan's attention.
Tristan forgot why he had come in the first place. He had nothing to say to either of them, nothing they could understand. Perhaps he had come out of guilt, returning to apologize for not returning the night before. Still, there was nothing to say.
"Tristan?"
Raising his eyes to Cariad's pleading ones, Tristan realized that he did not want anything to do with either one of them. Not now. They were a part of him that was sorely mismatched from the disgust he could not seem to shake, and they were no solace for the scathing glares of his brothers when he refused to see to Kay's burial. "I am sorry," he said, and he left.
-
"Hey, lad." Gawain stroked the chestnut's face gently. "Your master's gone on. But you know that already, eh?" The horse leaned into Gawain's touch with a sigh. The man matched the animal's morose mood. Nevius would requisition the horse as soon as he heard the news, and Arthur would have to acquiesce. A magnificent animal like this one would not tolerate being used as a pack horse, and none of them would want to see it.
Gawain turned at the soft, familiar sound of approaching footsteps. He nodded his greeting, then turned back to the horse with an air of dismissal that neither one of them believed.
"Have you seen Tristan?" Cariad asked quietly, as if afraid that she might break the tight tension between them and spill everything that hadn't been said – and that shouldn't be said – across the floor like the ocean from a cup.
Without taking his eyes off the horse, Gawain shook his head. In his peripheral vision, he could see Cariad's disappointment. She turned to leave, and he spoke. "I am sorry."
Cariad spun around. "That is twice today that has been said to me and I do not know the reason for it. What has happened?"
"My apology has nothing to do with…" Gawain paused. She did not know. She would soon enough, but he hated to be the one to tell her. He stroked the horse's nose. "Kay is dead," he said softly.
Cariad gasped. "How?"
"The gods," Gawain answered, smirking grimly. "Who else is sorry?"
Cariad frowned. "Tristan."
"Ah," Gawain said knowingly. "He is sorry that he did not go to you last night." He crossed his arms over his chest, meeting her eye. "I have not seen Tristan since he left us this morning."
It seemed like ages before she spoke, as it always does when both parties know the words that need to be said and the danger in saying them. "This needs to stop, Gawain."
He did not play with her. "I know. That is why I am sorry."
"You cannot feel what you think you do," Cariad said boldly. She shook her head. "It is ridiculous."
Gawain tried to hide his anger, preferring that she see him emasculated than mindless. "I do and I have from the very first moment I heard you speak."
"You are as bad as he was!" Cariad said vehemently, tears welling up in her eyes. "I am not a token to remember your sorry life by! I am not your mother or your sister or the girl you left behind! I have never even seen the place you long for!"
The horse startled at the emotion in her voice, but Gawain stood stock still not ten feet from her. "I am sorry."
Cariad threw her hands up in the air. "Is that all you can say?"
"What do you want me to say?" he said, letting a little bit of hurt creep into his voice. "That I love you dearly? That I hate my brother for acting first? That I…"
"Stop!" she shouted. "Just stop!"
Gawain's shoulders fell. "I am not sorry that I love you. I am sorry that you found out, and that our friendship has suffered for it."
Cariad looked up then, frustrated tears slipping down her cheeks. "We cannot do this," she said. "I miss your friendship. I… My daughter barely knows you, who has always been closest to me beside her father. It is ridiculous. I do not want…" She swiped angrily at her tears.
Gawain felt a measure of relief at her words. She had taken him to task. Neither of them deserved the ache that came with these crossed lines. Though he knew he had no hope, and did not entertain any, he could read the distress in her dark eyes clearly: she could have chosen him.
"I barely know what I ask of you," she whispered.
Gawain closed the distance between them slowly. He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I do." He wiped a tear from her cheek and stepped away. "If I see Tristan, I will let him know you are looking for him."
-
Tristan avoided Vanora's home whenever possible, which was less and less frequently now that Cariad and Lowri had become a part of his life. There were too many children, and children were nothing but obnoxious puppies that one could not actually kick. It was a relief to him to find Lowri awake and attentive, to hear her call out for him, so that he would not have to engage any of the others.
"Da!" Lowri threw her chubby arms around his neck as he lifted her from the floor.
Vanora emerged from the kitchen, looking haggard at eight months pregnant with the eleventh. "Oh, it's you. Idiot man." She shook her head and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Tristan followed and did not like the sight before him. Cariad met his eye easily, even smiled, but it was clear that she had been crying. "What is wrong?" he asked, holding Lowri close to him as if her mother's answer might take something vital away.
Cariad shook her head. "Nothing. I promise. I have only just heard of Kay," she said. It was true, but the fact of Kay's death had nothing to do with her sad eyes, and Tristan seemed to know it. "Where have you been?"
"Nowhere. I promise," he answered plainly.
Cariad glared at him sharply, surprised to see a flicker of humor in his eye. She bit her lip. "You are a strange man."
"For gods' sakes, girl," Vanora exclaimed. "Are you only just now figuring this out?" She pushed herself up heavily from the table and shooed Tristan with her hands. "Get out, now, and take the baby with you, eh?" She tapped Cariad on the back of the head. "You, too, girl. There are enough silly gits in this house as it is, without you two bringing your nonsense around."