Starcrossed

Chapter Five

Tristan/OC

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The hawk was back. She had seen it circling over the forest when she arrived, and sure enough, the bird had joined her among the trees a scant few moments later. They were staring at each other, as if they were sizing each other up. Caillean couldn't help but feel that the bird wasn't too impressed with her. There was no more doubt in her mind that it was Tristan's. It looked like his and it seemed to be used to humans. Besides, she mused, while the hawk finally picked the piece of meat from her fingers, she was, against her own advice, once more on the wrong side of the wall.
„One of these days you're going to tell him about me, aren't you?" she asked the hawk. „So he can come and finally shoot and hit me."
The bird gave no comment on the matter, simply gobbled down the meat and eyed her hand curiously. Since there was no more food to be had, she took off into the sky again.
Caillean followed her ascent into the clear sky with her eyes, longing for a moment to just be able to take off and fly away herself. It would be nice to have that kind of freedom and that sense of not beholden to anyone.

„I cannot believe you are making me do this!"

The exasperated voice of a woman disturbed her little fantasies of soaring through thin air and brought her rather harshly back to the ground. She sighed and looked at her sister, who in turn was casting anxious looks around as though the forest might bite her.

„You've become really tame since your marriage, Eivlin," Caillean observed dryly and hopped down from the treestump she had been sitting on. „I don't remember the woods scaring you that much."

„It's not the woods that are upsetting me, it's you!" Eivlin snapped at her. „It's treason, that's what it is! If anyone finds out I'm even talking to you..."

„Someone knows!" Caillean interrupted her. „Or at least, someone knew. Anyway, I'm not asking you the forts defenses, or the watchword for the gates. I just want to know how my sister is." She pulled an apple from a pouch on her belt and started tossing it from one hand to the next.

Eivlin arched her eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Even though their manner of dress was vastly different, in that moment the two women looked very much alike. Eivlin, like their brother Cædmon, had light brown hair, rather than blond, but she had the same grey eyes as Caillean, and although she was significantly rounder in figure since the birth of her second child, she had the same narrow bone structure as her sister. Not to mention the same piercing stare.

„You just want to know how you're sister is," she repeated, a sarcastic smile making her lips twitch, „well, you're sister would be better, if she knew why she had to give you weekly updates on the goings-on with the knights. They are all fine, by the way. Last I saw them, they were heading to the tavern to celebrate."

The apple tossing took up speed and a small frown creased Caillean's forehead.
„Hm, what would they have to celebrate? There have been no battles recently, and that means no victories...?"

„From the talk I heard, they are... oh, give me that!" Eivlin snatched the apple in mid-toss and glared at her sister. „They are celebrating that their terms of service is almost up. Apparently, a messenger arrived and announced that Rome is going to be sending them their discharge papers soon."

Bereft of her apple, Caillean took to twirling a strand of hair around her fingers. When she spoke again, it sounded as if she were merely talking to herself.

„So the knights will be leaving soon. Rome will be leaving. That could mean that it's going to be very peaceful or very bloody very soon."

Eivlin wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. „What do you think more likely?"

Her younger sister shrugged and lifted one corner of her mouth to a small smile. „Knowing Britain and the luck of the Britons... probably the latter." Seeing the worried look her sister cast her, she put an arm around her shoulders. „Don't worry. We will keep our eyes open, Cædmon and me, and we will make sure you and your babes stay safe."

„I'm worried about you," Eivlin replied and heaved a deep sigh, „always out there in danger. Why don't I lend you some dresses and you come with me! You'd blend right in, nobody would recognize you! Well, apart from Sir Tristan, but I'm sure he doesn't mean you any harm..."

Caillean rubbed the bump on her nose thoughtfully. „Actually, I'm pretty sure that he does."

…

The remains of the little fishing village were a sorry sight. Houses and huts lay in smoldering ruins, everything built by man had been torn down and the puddles on the muddy ground were red with blood. No man, woman or child had survived the beastly onslaught of their attackers.

The knights remained silent. They had all seen bloodshed in their years of service, but this was a sight unprecedented. The quiet crackle of the flames, the footfalls of the horses and the creaking of leather were the only sounds. They all strained their ears while riding slowly through past the ruins, hoping to hear any sounds that might lead them to a survivor.

„Oh God..." Arthur brought his horse to a halt and stared at the village square. Lancelot closed his eyes and Galahad looked as though he might be sick.
Floral decorations lay trampled into the ground, a pig on a spit had burned to charcoal, a small group of musicians lay slain over their instruments.
The entire village population had been here, and they had all been killed.

They dismounted, leaving the horses behind as they moved among the dead and tried to determine what had transpired here.

„A wedding," Gawain ground out, as he and Tristan stopped to examine three bodies laying close together, „this was a wedding."
Tristan nodded, looking down at the young girl. She had worn a crown of flowers and berrys on her blonde hair and her hand clutched that of her intended, even in death. Somehow, he was almost glad that her eyes were blue.

Bors and Arthur joined them.
„They spared no one," Bors said, his usually boisterous voice very quiet for once. He seemed stunned. „No one. They even killed the children."
Arthur's face was pale, grim and determined. They had seen this look on his face countless times. It signaled the moment something became more than duty to him. He took these things personal and he would not let them slide.
„I want to know what happened here. A group of men large enough to wreak this kind of havoc can't have disappeared without a trace!"
Tristan shook his head. „Ships," he said, nodding at the small harbour of the fishing village. „They land, kill whoever they see, take whatever they want and head out to sea again. Virtually untraceable."
„That's a lot of effort, though," Gawain added. „If Tristan's theory is true, they'll be attacking up and down the coastline to even make it worth their trouble."

Arthur nodded. „I'll be sending Galahad south down the coast, to see if there've been other attacks and warn the people. Tristan, I need you to go north."
The scout nodded and turned back to his horse at once. The sight of the dead bride had unsettled him more than he cared to admit and he did not glance backwards as he rode out of the village, going further North along the shore of the sea.
Above him in the sky, his hawk circled, looking out for her master with ever watchful eyes.

…

It was a beautiful afternoon, almost fit to make a man forget his troubles. The sky was a clear blue, the air was fragrant and after several weeks of idleness, Tristan's mare was happy to once again stretch her legs and run to her heart's content.

He followed the coastline for hours, always keeping his eyes open for a place where a ship might make berth. Odds were that the pirates, if that was what they were, had ventured South, where there was more loot to be had. But Arthur was a cautious man.
As Tristan got further North, he had to slow down a little, in order to keep his eyes not only on the shore, but also on the land, for this was Woad territory.

The wind was picking up, carrying the strong, salty scent of the sea and playing with Tristan's hair and cloak like a spoilt child. His eyes were itchy with tiredness and his horse could not keep up the pace anymore, either. There was a small copse of trees ahead, which would, in theory, make a good resting place. He steered his horse towards it, fighting back a yawn as they entered the sheltering darkness of the trees. For once, the scout was unaware of the eyes, watching his every move.

…

Arrows were notched and bowstrings creaked quielty as they were drawn. From their perch in the trees, the Woad fighters exchanged glances. They were only four, but this was one knight, unaware and obviously tired. The small party's leader took a moment, weighing the odds, but then he nodded. With a twang, they realised their arrows within heartbeats of each other.
The first two missed, merely spooking the horse and making it rear backwards. The third one hit him the thigh, the fourth in the shoulder. He did not scream, merely grunted in pain and toppled off his horse, his head striking the ground with a thud. The horse, still in panic and now so suddenly bereft of its rider, cantered further away into the trees.
The warriors nodded at each other, victorious smiles on their blue faces. They climbed down to the ground and approached the still figure on the forest floor with caution.
„Is he dead?" one of them asked, staring at the knight to detect any sort of movement.
„Perhaps not yet," another one answered him, „but we'll find out..."

They turned abruptly when their scout came hurtling out of the bushes.
„No time for that!" came the panted report, „there are more of them, and they're headed this way! Go, run, I'll stay behind and make sure they aren't following you!"
The four men exchanged another quick glance, then the leader nodded.
„Should we wait for you?"
„No need," the scout answered. „I'll go straight back to Merlin from here. Now go, hurry!"
They nodded, whispered quick words of farewell and disappeared into the bushes.

Once they were out of earshot, the scout hurried over to the fallen knight, dropped on her knees beside him and examined his wounds quickly.
She sighed in relief when she saw that they were perhaps painful, but not life threatening. He had not yet regained consciousness.
Caillean stroked his cheek and watched the pained frown lessen.
„Tristan...", she whispered, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips, „what am I to do with you now...?"

…

The first thing he was aware of was warmth. It was cozy, wherever he was, and he was tired. Something soft was beneath his head, and he was covered with a thick blanket. Slowly, his senses returned to him. He could here a small fire crackling. There was pain in his shoulder and his leg, but it was bearable. Cracking open one eyelid, he could see a bandage of clean white linnen on his shoulder. Whoever had tended to his wounds had also removed his hauberk and the leather jerkin beneath. The delicious smell of roasted meat wafted over to him, prompting him to open his eyes fully and look around.
It was dark, the inky sky was strewn with stars and he was at the edge of the copse. His horse had been hitched to a branch and was grazing contentedly. The saddle had been taken off and set on the ground and there, next to it, sat a woman. The firelight cast flickering shadows on her angular face, playing along the line of her lips and deepening the colour of her eyes to almost coal black.
She was not looking at him at that moment, but at his hawk, feeding her strips of meat from her hand. Only when the bird had lost interest in food and started cleaning her feathers, did she turn to look at him. His cast one look around for the nearest weapon and saw his bow, sword and daggers neatly piled at his feet, before looking back at her. She had noticed the quick glance to his weapons and smiled slightly.

„Don't worry. If I wanted to hurt you, I would hardly have wasted my time treating your injuries." She got up, circled the fire and knelt down next to him. „How are you feeling?"
His gaze remained weary as he watched her, sweeping once across her face and lingering for a moment on her broken nose. He ignored her question for the moment. "And why should I trust you?"
Her smile grew wider and the slight twinkle in her eyes spoke of mischief. "Your hawk likes me."

...to be continued...