The Long Way Around

by HeadintheClouds16

She was once told the there is no worse death than the end of hope. Yet after two years trapped in the 5th century AD under the thumb of the Romans, Charlotte no longer agrees with that sentiment. Loaded onto a ship destined for Britain, Charlotte soon realizes she must decide quickly who she needs to be; a woman longing for the past or a woman ready to hope again.

4. The Mission

I'm back! I wish I had a better excuse for such a long gap between chapters but I don't. I merely didn't like how my chapters were turning out so I spent the better part of several months rewriting things. But, I am finally a bit more confident in the direction I want Charlotte to go in so on we go.

Finally getting to the action.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS OR PLOT LINES AS DEPICTED IN THE 2004 FILM 'KING ARTHUR' BY ANTOINE FUQUA. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION DEDICATED TO THE HARD WORK AND EFFORT PUT FORWARD BY THOSE WHO WORKED ON THE FILM. THE ONLY CHARACTER I OWN IS CHARLOTTE.

I didn't know what time it was when suddenly someone knocked on the door. Pushing myself up from the cot, I blinked wearily. It seemed later however I couldn't tell the time given the blackness around me, my single candle having gone out at some point.

I let my eyes adjust to the dark for a moment when another series of knocks jolted me from my sleepy revere.

Moving to stand, I readjusted my dress and approached the door, hesitating at the last minute. I placed my hand on the latch.

"Hello?"

Another knock sounded, this one more desperate then the last. I unlocked the door and pushed the door open slowly, peering into the dimly light corridor.

With a huff, Horton pushed his way into the room, knocking me partially to the side as he took stock of the small room. He looked around in obvious surprise, his eyes skimming over the cot before fixing me with a scrutinizing look.

I immediately went on full alert. Instincts kicking in, I ducked my head and shuffled carefully to the foot of my bed. I greeted the monk tonelessly.

"Horton."

His eyes flicked over my new clothes and clean appearance for a moment, his brows furrowing in what could only be confusion before he seemed to remember himself. Clearing his throat authoritatively, he gestured towards the door.

"The Bishop demands your presence. You must come with me now, Marcia. He has asked that we both join him this very moment as there is something he must discuss with us before daybreak."

I grit me teeth but kept my head down.

Seeing my lack of movement, or lack of any response, Horton cleared his throat again. This time, he sounded a bit more nervous.

"Marcia, this is not a request. You of all people know how the Bishop can be if he is left waiting. You either can come now, or I will have to fetch Quintus."

I grimaced internally at the thought of the Roman who had looked so annoyed when I had been removed from his grasp only hours before. I was certain Quintus would ensure I had a few 'accidents' on my way to the Bishop's quarters – he was not a smart man but he knew how to land a kick.

I reluctantly nodded and this seemed to ease the slight nervous energy that surrounded Horton. I took some comfort that at least I wasn't the only one in the dark about why the Bishop had requested us.

Not speaking, I moved to follow the monk as he strode quickly back out into the hall. I took one last lingering look at the small room and managed to keep the small sigh on my lips silent at the sight. I knew it would be the last time I would be able to sleep (albeit for only a few hours) in what constituted as luxury in ancient antiquity.

While still dark, I could see the faint light of day already beginning to creep across the light stone corridors. I gathered quickly that I must have only slept for a few hours, five at the most.

What I wouldn't give to sleep in for more than a few hours at a time.

Moving to the far east end of the fort complex, I was ushered by Horton into a large room. Seeing the difference in size and sheer luxury in comparison to the room I had been given, it was clear I was in Arthur's rooms.

As the commander of the fort, Arthur was a powerful man. Thick fabrics hung around the room while large fur rugs covered most of the floor, no doubt in an effort to hold the creeping cold that seemed to linger throughout the complex at bay. Candles burned around the series of chambers, casting a golden light on a large ornate desk.

I took a surveying glance around. I found a small frown pull at my lips.

Instead of gilded cups and marble busts, I was surprised to see most of Arthur's chambers were filled with only the most practical items. A few everyday objects dotted the space, but I could see whatever space wasn't being used was adorn with military paraphernalia. Swords, axes, military charts, and pieces of armour lay carefully across nearly every surface.

It was obvious that despite his power, Arthur was an austere man. A true military mind. Yet there were touches of personality in the far corners of the room that glinted in the shadows – hints to the man beneath the armour. The same man who had inexplicably helped me only the day before.

"Ahh you have come…"

Seated at a large desk, the Bishop played with a small piece of pottery as we approached. I was immediately shaken from my thoughts, my eyes immediately dropping from the curious room around me to study the fur rug below my feet.

Twirling the terracotta piece between his fingers with a thoughtful expression, the Bishop ignored Horton as the monk dutifully greeted him. After a moment of silence, the Bishop shifted his gaze to where we stood.

I could feel his eyes on me, taking in my dress and clean appearance. I risked a look up and could see a flicker of the same shock that had flitted across Horton's face earlier. It was only a moment but a small shiver of fear ran across my spine at the sudden look of annoyance that suddenly overtook his expression. He had assumed (as had I) that I would be locked away somewhere in the bowels of the fort.

Not cleaned and feed. Though I knew little of Dagonet's plans for my punishments or his actions in general, I couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness towards my would-be jailer. Would he be punished in my stead for not abiding by the Bishop's wishes?

The Bishop clucked his tongue once, turning his head away from me. Schooling his face into an expression of bored benevolence, his lips pulled up into a smile that was a bit too forced to be true before refocusing his attention.

I kept my gaze lowered.

"There is much we need to discuss…" He finally said, moving his attention back to the pottery in his hand. He placed it down on the desk carefully, his smile growing as he pushed himself into standing. He continued to watch me with that wide smile, which only caused my stomach to knot in apprehension.

I resisted the urge to gulp.

"It seems that God had a plan in bringing you to me, Marcia. Through his will, I will see you serve him along with Horton to best bring to a close this entire endeavor. Do you know why I came to Britain?"

I shook my head, not liking the way the conversation was going.

"I heard the knights are to be free," I said quietly, licking my lips nervously. I shot a look at Horton but the man kept his expression carefully neutral.

The Bishop snorted. He moved casually towards me, his eyes mocking as he closed the space between us.

He had changed from his traveling attire, now wearing a casual tunic which would have looked simply had the gold embroidery around the cuffs belied the attempt at looking humble. The telltale scent of wine wafted off him as he shook his head.

"The knights and their freedom… it is their duty to Rome that they fight. They should be grateful the were given such an honor. To serve the will of God and Rome is greater than anything else on this earth."

I did not respond, keeping my gaze low as I tried to comprehend some of his words. I knew better than to question the Bishop or ask for clarification.

"A Roman family lives several leagues north of the wall. Their son, Alecto, is a favourite of the Pope," The Bishop continued, his eyes narrowing.

He gauged my reaction, a small amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as my eyes widened.

Alecto? Marius Honorius' son? But how…

Seemingly satisfied with the intended shock, the Bishop waved a hand in the air.

"However an army of Saxons mongrels have already begun their assault on this horrid land. The Pope cannot leave the family to such a fate and so has request they be brought back safely to Rome. Artorius and his knights are being sent to retrieve them before the mongrel Saxons do."

I tried to make sense of the unfamiliar word 'Saxon' but regardless of my own lapses in the language, could feel the dread building. The Bishop had no reason to explain in detail why he was in Britain. So why was he telling me now? I shifted on my feet nervously.

"How will I serve?" I asked.

"You shall attend to them on their journey."

I started, my brow furrowing in confusion as my head whipped upwards, looking the man in the eyes for the first time since I had entered the chambers. I could see the victory glinting in their dark depths as my mind whirled.

"Attend? I don't understand… How am I to attend Arthur?"

"Not the knights," the Bishop scoffed in derision, "Marius Honorius' family. I know that you are familiar with the family and Alecto. You have served him before so you shall serve him again to ensure he is well attended during the journey."

I wanted to both laugh and cry at the memories that flooded my head when he spoke the name but until my mind caught up with the rest of what he was trying to tell me.

A journey? What did he mean by a journey?

"He was the brother to your master, Lucius Honorius, was he point?" the Bishop queried, his voice creaking with subdued glee. "The very family of the man you tried to escape. I believe it should be fitting that God's righteousness has led you here so that you may atone for your sins by serving his family once again."

Again my mind whirled.

Surely… surely he couldn't be suggesting I was to travel beyond the 'wall' to find Alecto? There was no way he was suggesting what I thought he was suggesting.

"My apologies but I still don't understand. Am I… to go find Alecto?"

He laughed.

"It is Arthur's duty to find Alecto, Marcia. It will be your duty to bring him back as you…other talents. One's that I know would be of use."

I blinked in confusion.

"Talents?"

"Your knowledge of medicine would be valuable," The Bishop stated calmly, "A healer would ensure Alecto's safe arrival, even if I do sincerely doubt the extent of your abilities as Pelagius once so actively declared."

I felt the hair on my arms stand up on end. I actually took a step backwards. The Bishop regarded me cooly for a moment before he cocked his head to the side in clear amusement. His eyes two pieces of black obsidian.

"You did not think I knew?" He chuckled. "Of the skills Pelagius' slave was rumored to have had? I am insulted, Marcia. He spoke highly of your healing knowledge and what 'gifts' you apparently had. I shall have you serve Alecto to ensure his wellbeing as penance for your discretions. If you are as great as Pelagius once said, then surely you can keep the boy alive."

Pelagius.

It felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach at the familiar name within a series of words I could only faintly understanding. Seeing my obvious panic, the Bishop stepped in closer, grinning genuinely when I flinched. He leaned in slowly, enjoying the way in which I shook. His voice was nearly a whisper.

"Ahh, so now you understand. Should Alecto arrive in less than full health, your life will be forfeit."

"Bishop Germanus, I was never a…healer… I was…I…"

How did I even begin to explain what a medical resident was to a Roman bishop. How did I explain 21st century medicine to someone who did not even understand what penicillin was? What germs were? Who believed that the plague was not merely a disease but a sign from God of his displeasure?

I knew nothing of the herbs or medicines that people relied on during this time. All the knowledge I had was strictly theoretical, tied up in a world where x-ray machines were common and hospital coffee was barely tolerable. Pelagius had known this… so why would he boast about my abilities when I was not even a certified doctor?

My speciality was supposed to be orthopedics!

I shook my head back and forth desperately. Horton looked on in a mix of shock, confusion, and pity, shuffling nervously nearby as he watched us.

I tried to explain myself to the Bishop, holding my hands out in front of me carefully.

"Please, Bishop Germanus. I would be more trouble than help. I don't know the medicines or things to help people. I don't even know how to ride a horse. Pelagius… Pelagius lied to you."

"That is yet to be seen. Horton will be tasked with watching you on the journey. I trust you will do as command," The Bishop interrupted, ignoring my protest. He seemed now bored with the conversation.

Glancing at Horton, the Bishop sniffed delicately. The monk immediately stiffened.

"If she should try to run again, leave her to the Saxons. And if Alecto is not brought to me alive, then you both shall be dealt with. In whatever means I deem fit for failing in your duty to Rome and God."

I took another step forward, my mind spinning.

"Bishop…"

He laid a hand on my cheek, the contact immediately stilling my tongue. I felt goosebumps break out across my skin as he stared into my eyes. Gripping my cheek firmly, he smiled in a way no man should ever smile – malice dripping from is lips. I did everything in my power not to wince at the pressure as his hand tightened.

His breath ghosted across my face as he leaned forward. His touch suddenly turned gentle. My shaking grew more obvious.

"You are a fugitive of Rome, my dear. And your death is God's right. If you are successful, the God has shown his mercy. But if you are not… well, it shall be in God's hands. Do you finally understand me?"

I gulped at the obvious threat but felt as the sweat trickled down my neck as I finally understood what he was asking me to do.

This was not a way for me to serve the Honorius' family for my crimes - this was the punishment itself. Try to survive the journey or die. My death was guaranteed for embarrassing Rome in my act of rebellion and embarrassing the Bishop for still living.

Arthur, and Dagonet, had inadvertently stopped whatever torture the Bishop Germanus had planned for me upon arrival at the fort, and therefore it was an insult to his authority. So he had taken it upon himself to see my punishment carried out as he wanted.

My death, as it turns out, was not God's right. It was his.

Horton, who had been doing his best to look away throughout the entire exchange, looked near white. Suddenly the Bishop tightened his grip once more. Forcing me to look back at him, I yelped at the suddenly scrap of his nails. His smile had finally dropping, revealing a snarl.

"Do you understand Marica?"

Unable to nod, I forced myself to speak, my voice no more than a whisper. "Yes…"

Squeezing tighter, his eyes glittered in amusement as I gasped in pain. "I did not hear you."

"Yes, Bishop Germanus."

"Good, good!"

Suddenly grinning once more, he let go of my cheek as he moved further into the room, leaving me and Horton shaking ghosts in his wake.

I did not lift my hand to my throbbing cheek. Instead, I tried to stop the tremors that ran up and down my body.

"Then we shall speak with Arthur. I look forward to your joyous return with Alecto."

"Yes, Bishop Germanus," Horton exclaimed, his voice cracking. It was clear he too did not want any part of this journey. His hands shook at his side.

I moved as if on autopilot while I tried to make sense of what had just occurred.

I was being sent on a suicide mission to retrieve a boy, all whilst knowing the mission was nearly a front for the Bishop's anger. I was being sent to die.

Without realizing, I was being pulled through the hallways, Horton dragging me after the Bishop. A group of Roman guards quickly flanked us, forming a small procession as we made our way through the fort.

Curious eyes watched us, but no noise was made as we trudged forward in the morning light. My legs moved under me, shaking with each step as we moved closer to a large wooden building.

The smell of hay and horses finally pulled me from my thoughts.

Blinking in confusion and fear, I spotted the knights and Arthur preparing their horses in the centre of the room. Their eyes moved to our group and I could feel a cold fury rolling off of them in waves. The young knight, with the dark curly hair, sneered in clear contempt.

My mind sluggishly put the pieces together as I took note of the saddled horses and the knight's armour. This mission was happening now and I was being shuttled off to my own death without the curtesy of wearing more than the simple woolen dress Vanora had so generously gifted me.

Suddenly all I could think about was how thankful I had been only hours before, stuffing my face with food while people spoke kindly to me. I should have known it wouldn't last. I knew better than to hope.

The Bishop moved forward, standing in the middle of the barn while he gazed imperiously at the knights. The knights looked back with untampered rage, and I was somewhat jealous of their boldness. In my shocked stupor, I wished I could muster the same level of distain towards the man who was sending me off to die without shaking like a leaf.

Glowering, the group of knights sized up the Bishop and his entourage. The Roman man in turn sniffed, but he seemed unsettled by the fury directed at him when Dagonet bumped into him.

None of the knights lowered their gazes, and soon the air crackle with an unseen energy. A Roman guard behind me slid his hand onto his sword.

Arthur, standing next to the short man I had seen earlier in the courtyard, frowned at us in confusion before walking over. He schooled his face into something less surprised, but his eyes shifted over myself and Horton in clear curiosity.

The tall general was dressed again in his Roman armour, though much cleaner than before. The black leather gleamed in the low morning light. He surveyed the Bishop with wariness, but kept his head held high while he waited for the holy man to speak.

The Bishop pointed to Horton as if in explanation.

"To represent the Holy Court, my secretary Horton… Horton!"

Horton hurried forward, leaving me in the shadows with the Roman guards. I watched as his brown robes swished in his haste. The Bishop waved a hand at the man.

"He will accompany you on your quest."

The shorter man with Arthur turned to his leader in disbelief, his mouth open in obvious protest as he looked at the Roman manservant. Like myself, Horton was not well-dressed or suited for a journey on horseback. While he did had the luxury of wearing a thick woolen cloak, the whites of eyes betrayed his nervousness.

Arthur twitched in obvious annoyance. However before Arthur could begin to protest, the Bishop waved his hand again. One of the Roman guards pushed me unceremoniously forward. My shaking legs nearly collapsed but I managed to right my footing. I ducked my head almost immediately.

"And I will also be sending Marcia with you to ensure the safety of Alecto. She is a healer and will be of no trouble to you. She knows her position."

The smaller man gaped even wider as I moved forward. I could hear one of the knights loudly bark in disbelief, causing me to hunched my shoulders further forward.

I did not want to see Arthur's expression. Or that of the knights. That had been kinder to me than I had expected but now I was nothing more than extra burden. I could not resent them for their ire. In many ways, I was both figuratively and literally, deadweight.

The barn filled with silence before Arthur spoke. His voice booked no argument.

"Jols, find them horses."

A loud thwack sounded from nearby and I could hear the knights murmuring in anger. I wanted to let them know that I agreed that this was insane, but what could I do? The Bishop had been clear – he was sentencing me to death. Anything less and he would be severely displeased.

Lancelot, who sat closest to me on a low wooden bench, sighed heavily.

The man Arthur had spoken to, Jols, looked between me and Horton before he grit his teeth. I could practically feel his frustration as he jerked his head at the pair of us.

"Come. This way then," the shorter man commanded, shooting Horton and I another hearty glare. I shuffled my feet forward as Horton and I tried to keep up with the angry manservant. I kept my eye glued to the ground.

"God's speed," the Bishop finally said aloud, lifting his lips into a beatific smile as he regarded all of us left in the barn, "as you fulfill your duty to Rome."

"My duty is also to my men," Arthur ground out, his voice just loud enough for a few to hear. The Bishop nodded thoughtfully before he responded simply.

"Then get them home."

Jols led Horton and I to the far end of the stables, never once uttering a word to us. Shooting glares over his shoulder at us, he began readying a pair of horses, a chestnut mare and a dark brown gelding, while muttering to himself.

I looked at the animals warily before I caught the eye of the small man. I knew how I must look. White and shaking and terrified.

I did not even attempt a smile. I just stared back, frozen in a mix of disbelief and resignation.

He watched me for a moment before clearing his throat. His hands loosened on the leather straps he had been adjusting on the chestnut horse.

"I'm Jols. I serve Arthur."

I nodded in return but did not speak. He seemed to sense my discomfort as he immediately returned to resaddling the horses but the muttering had stopped.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest as Jols quickly got the horses ready, his eyes flicking to mine every few minutes in what was beginning to look more like pity than anger.

Once the chestnut mare was fully saddled, he passed me the reins which I accepted awkwardly. At my panicked expression, a flash of understanding moved across his face.

"Can you ride?"

I shook my head. "No. I've only been on a horse once."

Gritting his teeth, Jols looked upwards for a moment before running a hand over his sandy brown hair. His face was lined with scars, similarly to Dagonet but he did not have the same battle-harden expression as the others did.

Cursing quietly in a language I did not know, Jols levelled me with a cool look.

"Look, if the Bishop is telling you to come, then I can't say nothing. But we can't stop just cause you've fallen off your horse. We are going to be moving fast and hard for at least seven days."

Letting out a long breath, Jols closed his eyes. I continued to stand mutely, my face feeling ashen.

"All I can tell you is to hold on. Grip with your legs and try not to fall off."

"I think that's what he wants," I murmured in English, more to myself than anything. I could feel tears pricking at my eyes but shook my head, meeting Jols eyes. I licked my lips and nodded.

"I'll do my best to not make it harder for you and the knights." I said in Latin instead. I couldn't promise I wouldn't fall off the horse but I didn't want the knights to feel obligated for my safety. It wasn't fair to them. I would understand if they left me behind.

Jols regarded me in confusion as I spoke again, my voice lower than before. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Jols finally replied after a beat, his tone now slightly less sharp than before. "There's nothing to be done about it now. Just hold on and you'll be fine. Do you have any of your healing medicines with you? Or something warmer to wear…a cloak?"

I shook my head.

Jols glanced over at Horton before back at me, the disbelief in his voice evident.

"The Bishop said you're a healer, but you don't carry nothing with you?"

"I'm…," I wanted to deny it. Say that I wasn't a healer and that this was all simply a ruse to get me killed but I held my tongue after Horton shot me a sharp look. I gulped back what I was going to say before and instead shrugged my shoulders.

"I lost my medicines on the trip to the fort."

"And you're clothes too?" Jols asked, his expression making it clear what he thought about the story. I nodded my head awkwardly after Horton coughed.

Jols seemed mollified, murmuring that he would find some extra materials for me to have on the journey. I nodded my thanks but tried not to let my apprehension show. I knew nothing about holistic medicine or herbs.

Anything he gave me would be essentially useless in my hands.

Standing against the mare, I patted her neck warily while the men hustled around. The knights looked furious at the prospect of a rescue mission, but they seemed focused in changing their attention from the Bishop to Horton and I by shooting us menacing glares over every seconds.

Horton looked like he wanted to vomit and I tried to not collapse against the horse.

Jols wandered back towards us after a few minutes, in his hands a large dark brown cloak that looked as if it had seen better days, and a small leather packet with a strap. He offered me the cloak with an awkward shrug, casually mentioning that it belonged to a servant girl who did not need it. Where we were going, Jols further explained, was cold and wet. The thick cloak would at least prevent my limbs from freezing in the night.

I thanked him as I tugged the cloak on. My eyes settled on the packet in his hand with more wariness.

Inside the packet, I was not surprised to see various crushed leaves, vials, and a small ceramic pot. Medicines of some kind of course but I didn't know what they were.

A few bandages lay folded neatly to one side, along with a fish-hook with some thread which luckily I actually did recognize. The sight of the needle and thread caused my stomach to roll and I immediately rolled the packet back up, stuffing it into the saddlebag attached to the calm horse at my side.

"Oi Dag, how long before she falls off do you think? Five miles? One? Just outside the barn?"

Bors' tight tone caused my back to stiffen immediately. I could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Keeping my face turned towards the horse instead, I tried to ignore him. The horse shuffled on its' hooves suddenly, its body shifted closer to me.

Startled, I took a hesitant step back with a squeak. The horse swung its large head to look at me, as if amused at my sheepishness while I stared back in fear.

"There is no way I am making it out alive," I said quietly in English. The horse merely snuffled. I thought it sounded like a confirmation.

I only realized a second later that the horse was not responding to my despondency, but to a new arrival behind me.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

I jumped nearly a foot in the air at the low voice, spinning backwards on instinct. The warm body of the horse brushed against my back as I stared up at Gawain.

His voice was rough, whatever levity I remembered from the night before completely gone. But I was surprised to see that whatever anger I was expecting in his eyes were absent. Instead his lips were pursed into a tight line, but his blue eyes shone out with genuine concern.

I found myself speaking almost immediately.

"No… My master didn't allow the slaves to ride horses."

He seemed unsurprised by this but his lips tightened further. Rubbing a hand over his blonde beard, Gawain placed his hand on the horse's neck. It knickered in response when he gave the animal two long strokes. He seemed to be considering something before he turned back to me, his free hand pointing to the large horn at the front of the saddle.

My eyes flicked to it in confusion.

"This is the pommel," Gawain instructed calmly. "You can use it to steady yourself. When we are at full gallop, just hold on to this. You'll fall if you try to hold the reins so don't. Use this to keep yourself mounted."

He patted the horse once more.

"This mare will follow the others, so you won't need to direct her. Just do what you can to hold on while we travel. That's all you can do."

I nodded quietly but felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. Gawain did not need to be so kind. If I was in his shoes, I would have had no problem directing all of my frustration on the extra burden thrust upon me.

If I were him, I would have hoped I would fall off within the first few minutes. I had treated my colleagues at the hospital with less kindness than this man.

"If we're attacked, by Woads or Saxons or both, keep low on the horse and keep next to Jols. You'd be less likely to be hit by an arrow. Stay to the middle of the group," he continued, not waiting to hear if I had questions or if I understood him. He levelled me with a stern gaze.

"The Saxons are not kind to women."

Gulping, I nodded again at clear insinuation. I could see that my hands were still trembling and that Gawain was well aware of the shaking. Stuffing my hands and the reins under my cloak, I tried to keep my breathing under control.

I felt his hand on my shoulder for only a second before he moved it as I immediately flinched under the kind lips grew thin again, but this time in apology.

"I'm sorry."

I could hear the honesty in his words and appreciated that he was not going to try an sugarcoat things for me. I looked up at him and met his blue eyes with my own. I realized that he was still a few inches taller than me despite my height, which was rare since Romans tended to be much shorter.

I had to tilt my head up ever so slightly to meet his gaze and I saw nothing in his expression except but sincerity. And pity.

"I am sorry too," I whispered.

He did not respond but strode back towards his own horse, leaving me to grip the reins in my hands like a lifeline.

Jols, who had been waiting behind me, coughed lightly. I turned my head to look over my shoulder. He gestured to the horse.

"We must depart."

Holding out a hand, he offered me hand which I belatedly realized was to help me up onto the tall beast. Blushing at the faux pas, I allowed him to push me up until my leg swung over the saddle.

Awkwardly, I sat stiffly in the saddle. Other than sitting behind Dagonet, I had never been properly on the horse and now I felt entirely too exposed. I felt as if I was too high, my legs struggling to keep a tight grip on the leather saddle. Remembering Gawain's words from earlier, I clutched the pommel tightly.

Jols eyes flicked to my white knuckles but kept his mouth shut, instead focusing his attention on rearranging the stirrups. Thankfully, the new dress I wore obscured most of my legs, with only a small sliver of skin between my calves and my new shoes visible.

I tensed when I felt Jols fingers near my ankle but the man moved deftly as he quickly got the straps set, keeping his eyes down. After a few more adjustments, he seemed satisfied.

He took a step back before giving me one more look. I met his hard gaze with a frightened one of my own. He sighed heavily before he turned on a heel, striding over to his own mount which was covered in bags and weapons. He did not look back at me as he called over his shoulder.

"You'll follow me. Keep as close as you can and try to not wander."

Shaking ever so slightly, I could not nod despite him not being able to see it.

Arthur called out a command from the front, and with a sudden yell, the knights kicked their mounts into action.

My mare whinnied as she took off after Jols horse, Horton following closely behind. I nearly fell off right then and there, toppling slightly backwards at the swaying animal beneath me. I did not have Dagonet to hold onto this time and I gasped at the power beneath me. Gripping tightly with my thighs, I managed to grasp the pommel at the last second as I threw myself over the animal's strong neck.

I bit my lip in frustration. If this was only a quick walk, I could only imagine a full gallop. I was never going to make it.

I wondered if I would make the day.

Leaning my head against the mare's neck, I took in a choking breath. If this was to be my last day on earth, then so be it. Perhaps it was the merciful thing.