Chapter Twenty: Lie To Her

'Tristan? What are you doing?' Cavan shouted as her brother came into view across the courtyard, a girl flung over his shoulder.

'She was spying,' he replied, ever his brusque self. He ignored every other question thrown his way and stalked off in the direction of the training squares, the unconscious girl's feet hanging limply in front of him. Cavan jumped up from her seat beside Gawain and ran after him, her cloak fluttering around her ankles.

'Tristan!' she yelled at him, whacking his back with her fist. He didn't turn around. 'Tristan!'

Suddenly he spun round. 'What do you want?' he hissed at her. She froze, shocked by the hatred in his voice.

'Why are you angry with me?' Cavan asked quietly. She felt tears come to her eyes but dashed them away.

'I'm not angry. I'm… a coward. But I need to find out what is going on. We can talk about us later?' Tristan said, his voice low. He cupped her cheek in his hand, then he spun on his heel and was gone.

Cavan returned to Vanora's courtyard, and took her seat next to Gawain. Hani had disappeared – presumably to supply the customers that were slowly trooping in to the tap room. A few tables had already been filled up by groups of Roman soldiers – obviously on their mess break.

Gawain eyed Cavan warily – she looked a little lost.

'What did Tristan want?' Lancelot asked. 'Did he say anything more about the –' he motioned to his shoulder, '– girl?'

'No. He said he was a coward and that he needed to find out what was going on,' she replied slowly. 'I presume that he went to find Arthur.'

Gawain squeezed her hand, and she turned to him. He smiled.

'I want some wine,' Cavan said unexpectedly.

'Please,' Lancelot insisted. 'Let me do the honours.'

'Only because you want to get a chance to grope on Hani!' Gawain said, grinning at his brother across the table.

'Actually, I hadn't thought of that. But it's not a bad suggestion.'

Cavan laughed and Lancelot winked at her. Now she thought about it, the curly-haired Sarmatian really wasn't bad looking. He had a slightly feminine face, but it suited him, and contrasted nicely with his strong eyes and sharp features. But Cavan had seen the way Hani looked at him – she wasn't interested at all. Or, if she was, she was very good at hiding it.

'Lancelot, you know she'll not bed you for the world,' Cavan told him.

'We shall see,' he replied, sliding out of his seat and vanishing into the taproom.

'That man, he really doesn't know when to stop,' Gawain muttered beside her. She turned to him, a grin on her face.

'If the woman you loved said she loved someone more than you, would you let her go?' she asked, her eyebrows raised.

'I know that you're hypothesising, so I can't answer truthfully.'

'You wouldn't, though, would you? You wouldn't stand back and watch as she leapt into the arms of another man.'

'If I truly loved her, I would fight for her. Unless I knew it was better for her to be with the other man,' he replied quietly, his eyes downcast.

'Do you think Lancelot is actually getting me some wine?' Cavan changed the subject unexpectedly.

'I'll go check.'

Gawain stood up and made his way towards the shadowy taproom.

Cavan rubbed her arms, watching Gawain leave. It was just after noon, but the sky showed no sign of clearing, and the sun's attempts to shine through the clouds were futile. It was therefore quite cold – many of the soldiers around her wore cloaks and the townsfolk had on long-sleeved dresses and tunics – and she was thankful for Dagonet's cloak around her shoulders.

Arthur came into the square, saw Cavan, and took a seat beside her.

'How are you feeling?' he asked, his voice caring.

'I'm fine, thank you. I'm sorry about what I did, it was stupid' she responded regretfully. Arthur noticed that when she was angry or upset, the Irish accent in her voice grew more pronounced.

'Not at all. Anything that can give you closure – it is understandable, and expected. What that man did to you – none of here can imagine. We have no right to judge.'

Gawain returned with two cups of wine. He nodded to Arthur and sat down, setting the cups on the table.

'How is the situation between Tristan and the girl he found?' he asked of his commander.

'He is with her now. Galahad is there. I told Tristan to be careful – after what happened last time with Cavan here,' Arthur explained. 'He agreed and said that there were other ways to make people talk.'

'I don't think she'll put up much of a fight,' Gawain interjected.

'That's what you thought of me,' Cavan said.

'Yea,' Arthur agreed. 'And look how that turned out.'

Galahad watched as Tristan threw a bucket of water over the blonde-haired girl who lay in the middle of the floor. She woke with a start and looked around wildly. Galahad couldn't help but remember with a flash the last time he had been in this room, watching Avilon – now Cavan - resist Tristan's torture.

'Where am I?' the girl stammered, her eyes full of fear as she stared at the imposing Hyrci scout leaning over her.

'You're in the custody of Arthur Castus,' Tristan answered her, his tone implying that it would be the last question he responded to. 'Now, we'll start with the easy questions.'

'Easy questions?'

'What is your name?' Tristan demanded of her.

'Daenerys,' she said, her voice faltering.

'Why are you here?'

'I can't tell you – I don't know – I just had to watch and then tell Aulus if she was here or not. I don't know why – they don't tell slaves anything – I promise!'

'Well that was easy enough. Answer all our questions like that and there'll be no need for violence,' Tristan reassured her. 'Now. Who do you work for?'

Dagonet had shown Irri around the fort and town, and now they were headed for Vanora's. She was wearing a long-sleeved shift dress and thin linen gloves to cover her burns – Dagonet had picked them up from Levin on their way past. As they walked through the town, growing closer to Vanora's tavern, Irri began to grow uncomfortable. Dagonet had explained to her who the knights were and how to recognise them – describing Tristan's tattoos and silence, Gawain's matted blond hair, Bors' many children, Lancelot's flirting and charming smiles – but she was still anxious about meeting them in person.

'You should know that we have another girl staying with us,' Dagonet said as they strolled down the steps into the empty market place.

'Who is she?'

'Her name is Cavan. She was ill, and I helped her,' he informed her, editing out the part where Cavan was an assassin and had come to kill Arthur. 'She's staying in the knight's quarters – her room is opposite yours.'

'Will she be at Vanora's?' Irri asked. She seemed very happy with the idea that she was not the only broken girl that the knights were burdened with.

'I don't know – but I doubt it. She was ill again last night, and I don't know how she is today.'

'Where is she from?'

'Why don't you ask her yourself,' Dagonet rumbled, pointing towards a girl sat at a table in the courtyard ahead of them, who had long black hair in a braid and sea-green eyes. She was sat next to a stocky man with matted blond hair – That must be Gawain, Irri thought. 'She has her own burns, you know,' Dagonet continued as they grew closer to the square. 'Cavan was caught in a fire when she was a child – it destroyed her entire village and killed her parents.'

'I am lucky, then, for I had no family, even before the fire.'

'No husband?' he inquired shrewdly, rubbing the corner of his mouth.

'None at all!' Irri replied laughingly as they entered the courtyard. Cavan heard the laughter and her head flicked up.

'Dagonet!' she cried. 'My saviour! Come, take me away from these boors!' The men around her laughed – Gawain, Arthur and Lancelot, Irri thought, pleased she could name them all. There was a woman sat on Lancelot's lap, who Irri didn't know. The girl saw her staring and stretched out her hand.

Irri took the hand gently.

'Sansa,' the girl introduced herself.

'Irri.'

'So, Dag, care to explain who she is?' Cavan asked, smiling at Irri and making room on the bench where she was sitting. 'Move over, Gawain!' She punched the knight on the shoulder and he hastily moved, rubbing his arm.

'My name is Irri. I come from Yoren. My home was burnt down and I was brought here two days ago. But I like it here – everyone is very kind.' Her voice was soft and lively, like bells.

'My name is Cavan and this is –'

'Lancelot, Gawain and Arthur,' Irri interrupted.

'Well done,' Dagonet said. 'You learn fast.'

'So tell me where you are from,' she insisted of Cavan. The younger girl looked slightly alarmed but smiled all the same and retold portions of her history to the talkative blonde. She left out Evin, and her slavery, merely mentioning that she lived in Ireland for a long time before coming here.

Suddenly, a thought struck Cavan, and she turned to Irri.

'If you wait here just a moment, I can get you something to reduce the signs of scarring from your burns,' she announced. 'I wish I had found it earlier, for I think it only works in the first few months. But it continues to give relief.'

She left the table and vanished inside Vanora's taproom, returning a few moments later with a small iron box with Irish horses inscribed round the sides.

'Rub it on whenever the burns itch or feel hot. It will help.'

'Thank you,' Irri mumbled, accepting the gift with wide eyes. 'You have no need of it yourself?'

'I have found someone who thinks I am beautiful just the way that I am,' Cavan replied, pointing at Gawain. He saw her gesture and turned to her, inviting her to sit beside him.

'We're having a contest to see whose wine is better – Hani's or Viviane's,' he explained, taking her hand in his.

'No! I couldn't possibly drink more – I shall fall over!' Cavan laughed.

Dagonet met Irri's eyes over the table and they smiled at each other. He was glad to see she was settling in with Cavan well. The two would become very close friends, he predicted.

Suddenly a loud shout came from the stables.

'Arthur!' It was Tristan's accented voice. Everyone on the table turned to face Arthur, who shrugged, confused.

'Arthur!' came the voice again.

'I'd best go see what our scout wants before he explodes from making so much noise,' their commander said. The rest of the men round the table went back to their drinking.

'I must admit,' Lancelot exclaimed loudly, 'that Hani's wine is the best I have ever tasted! And I will tell you now – I am not drunk!' The slur in his voice told the occupants of the table otherwise.

'Poor Lancelot,' Cavan teased. 'Can't hold his drink!'

'I wonder what's got the scout all agitated,' Gawain speculated.

'I'll go ask,' she replied, climbing from her seat and squeezing past Irri. Crossing the street, she pulled her cloak around her slender frame, casting her gaze skywards to see if the sun had managed to peek through the clouds. She was disappointed.

Cavan could hear Arthur and Tristan talking but she couldn't make out the words. As she drew nearer the stable door, however, the words suddenly became clearer.

'Arthur, never mind that,' Tristan said forcefully. 'What do I tell my sister?'

Cavan stifled a gasp. Tristan had told Arthur? He had no right to do that! But then Arthur spoke again and what he said chilled her to the bone.

'Lie to her,' he ordered.

It was storming outside. Rain thudded on the ground and the roof, sounding like thousands of hands clapping at once. Every few minutes, lightning would flash, lighting up the world with bright white light, followed by the echoing boom of thunder.

The air was heavy, and inside the buildings it was warm and sticky. Cavan was sleeping on top of her blankets to avoid the heat. She flinched in her sleep, her toes and fingers curling, her brow furrowing. Words escaped her mouth, unintelligible sentences.

'No… Evin, he is mine, I don't want… understand,' she moaned, rolling over. Suddenly she sat straight up and screamed, her eyes wide and staring. Gasping for breath, she tried to remember what she had dreamt of.

Gawain, standing under a marriage cloth, gazing with love and adoration at a woman with long brown hair. She leant forwards and kissed him. Suddenly, Evin appeared behind them. Cavan called out a warning but neither of them listened. Evin pulled back his arm and thrust a sword through Gawain's back. The blond had fallen, still staring at the girl before him. Evin turned to Cavan and held out his arm, whispering her name.

Lightning flashed abruptly, revealing shadows in the corners of her room, showing shapes where there couldn't possibly be any. Cavan dived under the blankets, shivering with fear. She could have sworn that she had seen a man stood over her bed. Trying to calm her thunderous heart, Cavan took three deep breaths and then sat up again. Don't be a fool, she told herself sternly. You're dreaming. Evin is dead, you killed him yourself. But then the thunder roared outside the window and in the midst of the echoing noise Cavan heard a silken voice murmuring her name. She couldn't stand it anymore. Jumping from the bed, she ran across the room and out the door, into the corridor that was – thankfully – brightly lit with torches. The thought crossed her mind that she could sleep out here, but it would mean going back inside her room to get blankets.

'Dammit,' she whispered. Gazing at the doors that led to each knight's room, Cavan tried to remember which room belonged to Dagonet. He was possibly the only knight who wouldn't judge her if she crept into their room half-naked in the middle of the night. Tristan was out of the question – the lying bastard! – and Cavan was suddenly afraid that she couldn't trust Arthur after what she had overheard him saying to her brother. 'God's truth!' she cursed. 'Which is his room?'

Making up her mind, she crossed the corridor and silently pushed the door open. As she did, another clap of thunder resounded through the building, making her jump. In the darkness, she could just make out a body laying in the bed against the opposite wall. Cavan carefully avoided the clothes that littered the ground and slipped into the chair situated beside the window. Curling up in the seat, she rested her head against the arm and closed her eyes.

'Cavan, is that you?' a female voice asked.

'Irri?'

'Yes, it's me.'

'Why are you not asleep?' Cavan questioned, sitting up in the chair.

'I am terrified of thunderstorms,' Irri admitted. 'They give me the feeling that anyone could be outside, waiting to come through that door. Why are you here?'

'I had a nightmare. It's nothing,' she replied. Standing up, she said, 'I'll go back to my room.'

'No, don't be a fool. Come here,' Irri insisted. 'We can keep each other company.'

Grinning, Cavan slid under the covers with Irri. The elder girl shuffled over, allowing Cavan to find a comfortable space. They curled up beside each other, their feet touching.

'Your toes are cold,' Irri whispered, giggling. Cavan smiled. After a few moments of silence the blonde spoke again. 'Was your nightmare about the fire?'

'No,' she reassured her. She made a sudden decision to tell Irri everything. After all, Cavan knew everything about her. 'After my village was burnt down, I was sold as a slave in Rome, and taken to Ireland. There was a man there called Evin, and he did terrible things to me.'

'I am so sorry, Cavan. Do you dream of him often?'

Cavan closed her eyes.

'Every night.' Silence descended on the pair. Irri could hear Cavan trying to control her breathing – she took her hand underneath the blankets and squeezed it gently. 'But he is dead now,' Cavan continued, her voice quiet.

'Then the Goddess Pandora has given you a gift. You can forget about this man and start a new life,' Irri whispered.

'I hope so. With all that is left of my soul.'

So happy that I'm still writing! Hopefully I'll be able to finish the story before my inspiration runs out!

So, does Cavan forgive Tristan this time? Tell me what you think! And should she reveal to the rest of the knights that he is her brother? I NEED HELP GUYS! Thanks!

Thank you so much for reading this, it really does mean so much to me.