08 I cannot stay here

Warning: Some violence.

Balan didn't come round until hours after his thrashing. Unable to move because of the searing pain in his body, he merely opened his eyes to see Tristan sitting by his side. Comforted by the presence of the older knight, Balan drifted off into unconsciousness again.

It took almost three weeks before Balan could be moved back to the room he shared with Tristan. The healer said it was a miracle that he hadn't been killed by the fever which had taken hold of him after his beating. The wounds had become infected, which was not uncommon, and Tristan had spent many days and nights in the infirmary, washing the boy's wounds and cooling his blazing body. It had taken almost a week for the fever to break.

Back in Tristan's room Balan still spent the larger part of his days in bed. But at least he managed to keep his food down and he was able to walk a few steps unassisted. Balan was still shaken by the experience and he barely responded when the other knights came to visit him. If he wasn't far away in his memories of home or deeply asleep, he stared numbly at the wall.

Another few weeks passed and Balan's health was getting better every day. He still slept more than he normally did, but Tristan believed it would be possible to resume the boy's training within a week. He had been taking Balan out for some light exercise each morning and earlier that day the boy had even managed a brief run through the practice yard.

His eyes went to the sleeping form of the boy.

"Balan," he said softly.

He walked over and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Hey. Come boy."

Balan stirred and looked up sleepily.

"Time to get out of bed," Tristan said. He walked over to the window and opened the shutters to let in the afternoon light.

He was about to either pull the boy from his bed or aid him with a splash of water, when something drew his attention. The boy's blanket hung down to the floor from the side of the bed, but it shifted when the boy moved to sit.

Under the bed, no longer hidden by the blanket, lay the boy's kit bag. It was bulging.

His eyes instantly went to the wall where the boy kept his things.

Empty.

Before Balan knew what was happening, Tristan had pulled him from the bed and pushed him with his nose against his kit bag. The material was rough against his face and his nose began to bleed, but Tristan held him firmly in place.

"Explain!" demanded Tristan. His voice was eerily calm and cold.

Realizing with a jolt that his plan had been discovered, Balan began to tremble. He had meant to escape from the fort as soon as the knights left their quarters for supper. But now Tristan knew and he would not get another chance to escape for weeks, perhaps even months. Suddenly his pent-up emotions from the past months welled up and a tremendous panic overtook him. Balan began to fight Tristan's grip with all his might.

Surprised by the boy's actions, Tristan had to shift his balance and readjust his grip. The boy fought like a wild cat, kicking, scratching and punching where he could. It took Tristan a few moments to pin the thrashing boy down beneath him.

Still weakened from his fever, Balan couldn't keep up his fight very long. Within a minute he was locked in Tristan's strong grip again and the strength in Balan's arms slackened. His panic now complete, Balan lost every sense of reality. "Let go!" he cried several times and then started screaming at the top of his voice.

"Boy!"

Tristan shouted at him. Demanded that the boy be quiet. He even shook him in an attempt to get through to the young lad. But Balan only screamed and thrashed and struggled to break his grip.

Finally Tristan clamped a hand over the boy's mouth.

A searing pain shot through his hand and he realized that the boy had bitten him. Without thinking he grabbed the boy's shoulder and bit him back.

An agonized scream from Balan made him stop.

But when he looked up, he noticed that the boy's panic had finally subsided.

"You do not bite me! Understand?!" he warned, glaring directly into the boy's eyes. The boy nodded weakly and let out his breath.

Tristan pushed Balan back onto his bed.

"Fool!" he spat. "What were you thinking?! I would have thought that last month's thrashing taught you some sense!"

He noticed that the boy's shoulder was bleeding where he had bitten it.

Balan did not speak while Tristan washed out the wound. His tears ran quietly across his face.

"I cannot stay here," he finally managed.

Tristan looked down at him, his calm eyes studying Balan's face.

"You will have to, boy," he replied, not unkindly.

Tristan walked over to his trunk and took a few long strips of leather from it.

"I'm going to tie you to your bed for the remainder of the day," he informed the boy. "I'll be going down to the practice yard and I cannot risk you running away again."

Balan did not even protest when Tristan tied his wrists and ankles and fastened them to the bed.

"I'll be back after supper," Tristan said before leaving the room.

Balan nodded quietly.

When Tristan closed the door behind him, Balan shivered.

He had been willing to risk his life for another attempt to desert from his service to Rome. He had known that Romans could be brutal, but Balan had never expected them to whip him like they had done. He refused to stay and fight for these monsters.

But neither Tristan nor the Romans would give him any chance to escape now. His next attempt would have to wait.

He rubbed his eyes on his upper arm and rested his head on his mattress. He would have to bide his time and try to settle into his life in Britain for a while. Exhausted and sore, he fell into a dreamless sleep.