42 Thief

Author's note: The Saintlike Weasly, thanks again! Your enthusiasm gives me a smile every time!

Tristan and Geraint searched through Balan's belongings for Wolfsbane seeds. They checked every nook and cranny in Tristan's room, they emptied Balan's saddle bags, his quivers and his kitbag and looked around for other places where the boy could have hidden his stash. But they found nothing. Geraint discovered that Wolfsbane seeds were frequently used by local shepherds to poison meat that was put out as bait for wolves. This was done to keep the large predators away from livestock. Arthur and Bedivere interrogated the boy about the origin of his seeds and the reasons behind his actions, but were unable to get any information from him.

Vanora stood up for Balan. She told anyone who would listen that she had been with him when he filled the waterskins, and that he hadn't done it.

Bors was not so lenient. He refused to let Balan visit him in the infirmary. When Tristan brought Balan along against Bors' wishes, Bors pretended that Balan wasn't there. Balan had brought a gift, a doll for the new baby that he had sewn himself from bits of spare leather and wool. But Bors seized it and chucked it into the fire.

"We don't need anything from you," he growled. "You would have killed me like a rabid dog! Get out of here!"

That night Tristan lay awake and listened to Balan's ragged sobs.

He stared at the ceiling. He wasn't able to decide whether or not to believe the boy. He kept a close watch on the boy, but there was nothing suspicious about Balan's behaviour. Balan's back was healing and Tristan had resumed the boy's training. Balan worked hard, but his heart was not in it. He made far too many mistakes and he often failed to pay attention.

Why was the boy so upset? It didn't fit. If Balan had meant to avenge himself on Bors, why would he care that Bors was angry? Could it be remorse? Tristan frowned. Remorse was one thing he had not seen in Balan's eyes. Balan hadn't apologized at all.

It bothered him. Balan had not been like this before. Despite the boy's stubbornness and strong will, he was an obedient child. His boyish pranks got him into trouble sometimes, but when caught Balan never failed to be remorseful. After a thrashing he nearly always apologized and mended his ways. But Balan had been very young when he came to the wall. He was older now. In another half year the boy would be thirteen. Perhaps he was coming into that age. Tristan grunted. If Balan thought that he could be as rebellious and wayward as the older boys, he would show him otherwise.

Tristan licked his lips. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something. Could Balan be innocent? Tristan decided to keep this option open as long as there wasn't any proof to the contrary. And not merely for Balan's sake. For if the boy hadn't poisoned the water, it meant that there was a killer on the loose in the fort. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Whoever had done it, the plot had failed. Sooner or later that person would try to kill again, and hopefully reveal himself.

Weeks passed. The four knights recovered and left the infirmary. Despite the dreary February weather, the knights trained hard in the practice yard. Life in the fort went back to normal.

Almost back to normal, for Bors had forbidden Balan to come near Vanora and his children. The other knights frequently needed to protect Balan, for Bors punched and kicked the boy whenever he could. The broad knight had a very short fuse and lashed out at the merest insult or setback.

Balan kept his distance and refrained from commenting. But at night he often cried in his bed. Most of the time he stayed close to Tristan. Tristan seemed to have given him the benefit of the doubt. In his own stoic way, the scout was kind to him. Agloval, Pelleas and Galahad had interrogated Balan until he could no longer keep his eyes open. They had pestered him for every little detail, cross-examined each of his answers and questioned his motives in depth, until the fire had gone out and the buccina had sounded the night watch. But the following day they had welcomed him back in their midst.

Pelleas, Agloval, Galahad and Balan were in the stable, mucking out stalls, when Lancelot approached them.

"Has any of you seen my dagger?" he asked.

The boys shook their heads.

"Where did you lose it?" asked Galahad.

Lancelot grimaced. "I'm certain that I left it in my room, but it's gone. If the Romans find it before I do, there will be hell to pay. If you happen to see it, please take it with you."

The boys nodded solemnly.

"Strange how things keep disappearing, isn't it?" said Pelleas, after Lancelot had left.

Balan kept his head low. He used his pitchfork to scoop up manure and tossed it onto a handbarrow.

It was true: Gaheris had lost a lot of money from his money bag, Lamorak had lost his delousing comb and Bedivere the engraved brooch he used to fasten his cloak. Dagonet missed a scalpel and a package of healing herbs from his healer's kit. And Bors a pendant which Vanora had left in his room. The pendant had once belonged to Vanora's mother and Balan had heard that she was very upset that it was gone. Earlier that day Gawain hadn't been able to find a bracelet that one of his lovers had given him. And Brumear missed his vambraces.

"I think that someone is stealing them," said Agloval. Galahad and Pelleas nodded.

For a while they all worked quietly. Stealing was a serious crime, particularly in the army. If the perpetrator was found, he or she would be in major trouble.

Balan stared at the floor. "What are the odds they'll blame it on me again?" he asked morosely.

Tristan put his hand on the latch and quietly opened the door. Careful not to make a sound, he walked into the dark room. The sound of soft breathing came from the bed to his right. Aided by the eerie red glow of the dying fire in the hearth, he made his way to the back of the room. He knelt on the floor beside the hearth and added some kindling until the fire sprang back to life. Then he added a log and sat down on his chair. Stretching his legs, he closed his eyes and let the warmth wash over him. Balan had gone to bed early. The boy had been a bit pale and peaky during supper and Tristan hoped that a good night's sleep would see the boy back in good health come morning.

He was about to fetch his whetstone and knives, when a slight movement caught his eye. He sat very still and waited. There it was again: A flicker of light from under Balan's bed. Kneeling down beside the bed, he peered under it. There, reflecting the light of the fire, lay Dagonet's missing scalpel. And by the looks of it, all other items that had gone missing over the past few days.

Cursing loudly, he grabbed the sleeping boy and yanked him out of his bed. Surprised by this rude awakening, Balan stumbled and fell to the floor. But Tristan did not care.

Balan willed himself to wake up as Tristan pulled his bed away from the wall and pointed behind it. Blinking hard and rubbing his eyes he tried to see, but it was too dark. Growling, Tristan walked to the hearth and returned with an oil lamp. The flickering light shone on a pile of objects behind Balan's bed. Balan saw a scalpel, Bedivere's brooch, Brumear's vambraces… Cottoning on, he stared at Tristan in shock. "Again?" he stammered in a frightened whisper.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Tristan interrupted him.

"Don't tell me that you didn't do it, boy! If you do, I'll cut out your tongue."

Tristan gathered the items in a piece of oilcloth and handed them to Balan.

"Return them!" he said coldly, and pushed Balan out into the hallway.

Balan stared at the items in the oil cloth. He recognized some of them, but not all.

"I don't know to whom these things belong," he said quietly.

"Hurry up, boy!" said Tristan coldly.

Tristan was furious. He had been willing to believe Balan. He had defended the boy, had asked Arthur for leniency as no-one had actually seen Balan put the seeds in the waterskins. He had asked the knights to withhold their judgment until some kind of proof had been found. But as it turned out, he had been wrong about the boy after all.

He followed Balan to make sure that the boy returned the knights' possessions to their owners and did not hide them elsewhere.

Balan knocked on a few doors, but there was no answer. Tristan banged the doors impatiently with his fists.

Muffled shouts from sleepy and angry knights sounded from behind the doors. But from Lancelot's room came no response. Tristan banged the door again.

"Go away!" sounded Lancelot's disgruntled voice.

"Come here a moment!" called Tristan.

"I said go away!" called Lancelot angrily.

"She can wait, open the door!" called Tristan.

Lancelot didn't answer. The only response was the sound of lovemaking.

Tristan shrugged. He stepped back and kicked the door so hard that it flew open. Putting his hand in Balan's neck he walked away, ignoring the angry shouts from Lancelot behind him.

Doors opened and several knights appeared, some naked, some wearing long shirts or hoisting up their breeches for modesty, searching for the source of the ruckus. Before long they all crowded around Balan, staring at the stolen items in his hands. Bors shouted himself hoarse and had to be restrained, for he wanted to break Balan's bones on the spot.

Balan vehemently denied that he had stolen the objects. He was frightened, but when the knights kept shouting angry accusations at him, he lost his temper.

"How thick would I have to be to hide that stuff in Tristan's room?!" he yelled. "In plain view?! Not even hidden in a sack or anything?!"

"Shut up!" bellowed Bors. "Nobody here believes you anymore!"

"You're all very stupid, then!" screamed Balan.

Bors seized Balan by the throat and tightened his grip, but Dagonet and Gaheris restrained him. Bors glared menacingly at Balan. "This is what I think of you!" he growled and spat Balan in the face. Then he pulled himself loose and walked away.

The knights were silent. Balan saw disgust, distrust, anger and resentment on their faces. One by one, the knights came forward to claim their belongings.

Gaheris searched among the items and grabbed Balan's ear.

"Hey boy, where's my money?"

"He has spent it, of course," shrugged Brumear, slapping his vambraces against his hand.

"I have not!" exclaimed Balan angrily, but Gaheris did not release his ear.

"You'll pay me back, boy. Understood?!" he hissed.

Gaheris pinched Balan's ear so hard that he yelped in pain. It felt as if his ear would be ripped from his head.

"Yes! I will!" he cried desperately.

He grimaced when Gaheris finally let go.

Dagonet took his scalpel and herbs from the oilcloth in Balan's hands and searched between the other items.

"Where is Vanora's pendant?" he asked coldly.

"I don't know…" whispered Balan.

Dagonet stared at him incredulously and walked away.

The last door closed with a thud and Balan was left alone in the hallway. He shivered. He only wore his breeches and now that silence had returned, he noticed how cold he was. He wrapped his arms around himself and walked back to Tristan's room. But the door was locked. Balan got a lump in his throat and tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn't bother to knock or call, he knew that it was no use with Tristan. Turning away, he walked out of the building and went to the only one he knew who still loved him.

In the dark stable he slipped into his stall and pressed himself against the flanks of his horse. The large animal whickered softly and curiously sniffed Balan's bare torso, hoping for treats. Balan caressed the warm, soft nose and his tears began to spill in earnest. He wrapped his arms around the stallion's strong neck and cried until his head hurt and his bare feet were stone cold. He walked to the tack room and found himself a horse blanket. Back in his stall he mounted up, covered himself with the horse blanket and lay down on the animal's warm back. He rubbed his face against its velvety skin. Before long he was warm again. The stallion sighed deeply and Balan felt himself relax with it. Whenever the stallion moved around in its stall, Balan moved with it, but it did not matter to him. With his arms on either side of the horse's neck and his legs around the animal's warm belly, he slept as he had often done as a child when his tribe roamed the plains of Sarmatia.

It was thus that Jols found him the next morning.

TBC