04 Caught
Warning: This chapter contains physical violence. If you do not like this, do not read on.
"Tristan! They're here!"
Tristan dismounted and walked back to the gates.
He had only just returned from a scouting trip when he had been told that the three new boys were missing from the fort.
Ruccius had bellowed furiously at the guards for letting the boys walk out of the gates, and even more at the boys' trainers for not paying enough attention. He had not yelled at Tristan, of course, as he had not been there. But Gawain, who had been ordered to keep an eye on both Galahad and Balan, had received the full force of Ruccius' wrath.
A search party was sent out, led by a Roman officer named Artorius Castus.
When Tristan had returned from scouting that evening, the search party had been away for quite some time already. Ruccius had ordered him to grab some food and water and join the search immediately. He had been about to ride out again, when Lancelot alerted him that the boys had been returned to the fort.
Ruccius returned to his quarters. He left it to Arthur Castus, who was to become commander of the Sarmatian knights in a few months, to deal with the young boys.
The three boys stood quietly in front of Arthur, nervously awaiting his wrath.
"Where have you been?" Arthur asked sternly.
None of the boys said a word. Galahad looked down at his toes. Pelleas looked to the side, avoiding the many eyes staring at him. Balan looked intently at Arthur, as if trying to read from Arthur's eyes what would be awaiting them.
"We found you in the forest, not far from the village. What were you doing there?" Arthur demanded.
Galahad moved his feet, but still none of the boys said a thing. Pelleas shook his hair out of his face. Balan quietly observed Arthur.
"Answer me!" Arthur bellowed, hoping to scare the answer out of them.
Galahad bit his lip and opened his mouth to speak.
"Well, we…"
"Went for a walk!" Pelleas cut through him, aiming a kick at Galahad's leg.
Arthur glared at him.
"You know you are not to leave the fort without permission! You have been well-informed that the punishment for breaking this rule is a whipping. What did you risk this for?"
Tristan watched with amusement as Pelleas racked his mind for an answer. Galahad seemed to become more nervous by the minute. Balan, however, hid his emotion quite well. He silently observed the situation and watched the reactions of its players. Only a little flicker in his eyes betrayed that he was, in fact, scared.
"We were going to …" Galahad hesitated.
"Shut up, you fool!" Pelleas hissed. He turned to face Arthur. "We miss our home, the open grass lands of Sarmatia. We aren't used to being locked up in a smelly old fort."
Arthur stared at the tall freckled boy who sniffed the air disdainfully.
"This place smells. We merely wanted some fresh air," Pelleas scoffed, shooting Galahad a warning glare.
Arthur wasn't going to waste his time on this.
"Enough!" he barked.
"Gaheris, Gawain, Tristan, take these boys to your rooms and give them a whipping. Do not be kind!"
He turned to the boys.
"Do not let this happen again!"
Tristan watched as the young boy in front of him tried not to flinch. He could tell that the boy was nervous. When they had entered the room, the boy had tried to read from Tristan's face how serious his whipping was going to be, but Tristan had kept his face impassive.
"Take off your shirt, boy."
After the boy had removed his shirt, Tristan took off his belt. The boy tried hard not to swallow. Tristan noticed that he was trembling, though.
"Kneel."
He saw a flicker of fear in the boys eyes. Then, all of a sudden, a complete change washed over the boy's face. Quietly but resolutely, the small boy knelt down in front him.
A little bemused, Tristan took his belt in his other hand.
At the first crack of leather across his bare back, the boy flinched and choked back a scream.
At the second one, he panted loudly and Tristan could tell he was fighting back his tears.
At the third one, he hissed and he clenched his fists.
But at the fourth lash, the boy remained quiet and did not move.
Tristan frowned.
The boy remained stoic and still for several more lashes, until finally the pain of the whipping overcame his resolve to remain silent. He winced and his body shook with every new stroke that landed on his back.
After the last lash the boy got up, lay down on his bed and hid his face under his covers. Not once did he look up at Tristan.
Tristan decided to let him be.
He put his belt aside and left the room to ask Dagonet for some ointment. When he returned, he carefully applied the salve to the welts and bruises on the boy's back, causing the boy to hiss in pain once more.
Then he lay down on his own bed and tried to get some sleep. He had whipped the boy hard, he was aware of that. But Balan knew the punishment for going out without permission, and Tristan felt that he deserved it.