Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur. Somebody else does though and they are a very lucky person/people.

Chapter Ten

Four days after the beating of Kay, the Roman convoy departed from the rich mansion. As their horses trotted single file down the lane through the vineyards, Ketchia felt relief bubble up inside her. It created a sunburst of a grin on her face which she quickly suppressed into a brief satisfied look. Leaving was wonderful but it was going to create at least one problem; the stress of the constant riding was not going to be helpful for Kay, who was healing very slowly.

When Kay had finally been released back to the Sarmatians, he had been barely breathing and each movement caused him excruciating pain. Dagonet had cleaned the sand from the bloody stripes on his back and bandaged him up, but he had been uncertain if Kay would make it through the night. The oldest knight's determination had served him well, and he struggled through it all without infection. He even insisted on riding by himself, although Dagonet was riding directly beside him.

Lancelot, anxiousness clinging to him like a shroud, had become Kay's constant companion; the boy had not left Kay's side since he had been returned. He obviously felt incredibly guilty for what had happened and rightfully so Ketchia thought.

"What are you thinking of, girl?" Tinus asked in a quiet grumble as his grey mare clomped down the mountainside at her usual cumbersome pace. Ketchia's torso was turned sideways as she watched the vineyard pass by slowly, one hand resting on the horse's flank and the other holding the saddle.

"Nothing," she replied, twisting back around to face forwards.

"That is an answer for the dead," Tinus said, shifting a bit in the saddle. There was a touch of amusement to his voice but it was no more than a trace amount. "No one living thinks of nothing."

Ketchia sighed and looked back out at the land. They were almost to the edge of the vineyards, which had been picked through entirely. No grape had been left for the birds to feast on or for a hungry slave to eat. "I was thinking about Kay."

"Hmm, the selfless one," mumbled Tinus. There was a pause and Ketchia wondered if he was going to say anything else. "What he did was foolish yet honorable."

"The Romans do not believe that," Ketchia said darkly, casting her gaze on the moving ground beneath them. "They think he acted as a stupid boy, but he isn't. Kay is…" she tried to think of the perfect word, "noble."

Tinus became silent and the noise of the mare's hooves hitting the hard, packed earth was the only sound for some time. Ketchia thought that maybe the rest of the day would go this way and started to fall back into the old rhythm of balancing and watching the scenery. The vineyards were growing small in the distance, shrinking as they became nothing but a nasty memory for her.

"You're afraid that he is going to die." Tinus' voice startled her and she sat up straighter, staring at the back of his glinting helmet. "It is possible, since he is very weak right now. He should not have been moved, but we are due back in Ostia soon."

"He will not die!" Ketchia hissed at him, showing an desperate defiance at the very idea. "He can't."

"He can, and there is a good chance that he might," said Tinus, his voice serious and grave. He sighed in an old, tired way, like an elder in her village might sigh. "If he does, he will not be the last of your friends to do so. You must understand, girl, that you are going to be a knight. There will be many of your comrades that will not see the end of your fifteen years." He turned his head to the side so he could catch her dark brown eyes with his gaze. "You could be one of them."

Ketchia stared back at him, confusing emotions welling up inside of her. She was worried, angry, frightened; she knew very well that Tinus' words were true. "I promised my mother that I would return," she whispered to him, "I cannot break my vow."

"War and battle do not care about promises," Tinus said, facing forwards again. "They tear apart everything that comes into them and trust me, you will be in battles. Your fear, if you allow it to take hold of you, will be the end of you."

Ketchia glowered at him, hating him for being right, for being Roman, for existing. Why would he say such things to her? Unable to stand being near him any longer, Ketchia swung down from the mare, hitting the ground as lightly as she could. The mare skittered to the side, but Tinus quickly soothed her. They continued forward as if the girl had not just jumped off. He did not turn around to see if she was going to rejoin him.

Ketchia stood there for a moment in the strange, hateful land of Rome, her traveling cloak wrapped tightly around her like her mother's hug. She wanted to go home. Out of all the girls in all of Sarmatia, why her?

"Ketchia," a voice called out from behind her, "What are you doing? Where's Tinus?"

Spinning around, Ketchia found herself face to nose with a soft-eyed, grey horse. Gawain was looking down at her, eyes narrowed and creating creases in his face. Galahad, unable to ride with Kay at the moment, was sitting in front of Gawain, right behind the gelding's withers. Gawain had one arm wrapped loosely around the boy, aiding his balance. Poking his head over Gawain's cloaked shoulder was Gareth. They looked like a three-headed, six-armed, six-legged monster atop the sturdy grey gelding. Their presence eased her anger, and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

"He's up ahead. I felt like walking for a while," she said, motioning up the caravan line with her hand. It was the truth, just not in its fullest. Gawain nodded his head, accepting her story for the moment. He would probably ask her later what had happened, and she would tell him then. For now, though, she was glad not to be questioned.

"If you tire, or we start on a faster leg, Dagonet and Lancelot are behind us," Gawain told her as she started walking beside Jalden. "I would take you but I think poor Jal here might break if I sling one more person onto his back."

"It's only because Gawain is so fat that the horse's back is bowing," Gareth said, patting the gelding's rump sympathetically. "You see, Ket, if it was just me, Jalden would be in perfect condition. But no, Gawain insists that he should ride too, and that is why Jalden is in such poor health."

Ketchia chuckled as Gawain spluttered and clenched the reins tightly. "Jalden is fine, you devil," snarled Gawain, "If we weren't astride, I'd-"

"Hit me? Kick me? Rip my truth-telling throat out with your bare hands?" Gareth asked, ticking off the possibilities on his fingers.

"I'm thinking that he should kick you," Galahad put in from up front. "But you are heaviest, Gawain," he added as if having to balance out whose side he was on.

Gawain gave a strangled sigh and halted Jalden. He dismounted, swinging his leg over Gareth's head; Gareth barely ducked with enough time not to be smacked off the horse. Gawain tossed the reins to Galahad who beamed with his newly bestowed responsibility. His joy was short-lived; Gareth pulled the reins out of his hands the second after he caught them.

"Jalden is too much for you to handle, boy," Gareth told Galahad with his chin raised in the air as he slipped farther up into the saddle. Galahad immediately frowned, indignant fire flashing in his blue eyes.

"Is not! He's a gelding so he's gentler so I can have the reins, right, Gawain?" Galahad demanded, widening his eyes pleadingly as he looked at the older blonde. Gawain shrugged as he walked along beside Ketchia.

"You two figure that out. I'm obviously too fat to have anything to do with a horse," Gawain said with a snort on the end of his sarcastic sentence. Ketchia rolled her eyes as the Jalden trotted on ahead without direction, Galahad and Gareth still bickering at each other.

"Thank you for the company," Ketchia said, knowing he would not have gotten off the horse if she had not been walking. He shrugged and smiled at her.

"I had been looking for a good reason to get away from those two ever since we left that place."

"That was not very long ago, Gawain," Ketchia said, amused at his reply.

"It was long enough," Gawain said with a long-suffering sigh. He crossed his arms behind his head, stretching his tired muscles. "If we take a long voyage to Britain on a small ship, don't be surprised if we are minus a couple knights by the time we arrive." He gave an aggravated snort.

"A ship?" Ketchia asked, staring at Gawain. Having lived her life in the landlocked Sarmatia steppes, she had only heard about ships and boats in stories that had crept up from the tribes at the edge of the Black Sea.

"I hear that's the only way to get to an island," he said and then raised his eyebrows teasingly, "Unless you were planning on growing a pair of wings."

"Gawain!" Ketchia exclaimed, shaking her head at him even as laughter glimmered in her eyes, "What nonsense."

Gawain grinned at her. "Wings would suit you, Ket. Big, fluffy white ones."

Ketchia decided to play along with his jesting. She shrugged her shoulders as if situating a pair of wings and made a face. "Don't you think they would be a little awkward? I wouldn't be able to ride a horse well if they were very big. They might be injured."

"Maybe they could be small wings."

"But then they wouldn't be able to carry me."

"You're in a contrary mood, Ketchia," Gawain said as she staved off his attempts at creativity. Ketchia smiled at her and tossed her mane of dark brown hair with self-importance.

"Be glad it's not a foul mood, Gawain." The pair looked up to see Kay sitting on his horse behind them, his blue eyes narrowed in amusement through his pain. "A woman in a foul mood is worse than any woman in a contrary one."

"I think I might have to disagree with you on that," said Dagonet. The huge knight was riding close by the injured man. He crossed his arms over the saddle horn and held the reins in one hand. "A woman in a foul mood only throws things or burns your food. A woman in a contrary mood will turn you inside out with her words. Personally, I'd rather dodge a pot than face the vicious wrath of a woman."

"I'd rather have an obliging woman, myself," put in Lancelot, a strange smirk on his face. "Much less work involved." His smirk was a mixture of pleasure, teasing, and wickedness. For a second, Ketchia could have sworn that the moody boy was surprisingly handsome. Kay chuckled then hissed, grabbing at his side while his eyes screwed shut.

"Kay?" Lancelot asked, his voice riddled with worry. Ketchia was surprised to see him so concerned. Kay waved him off as he brought his horse closer.

"Fine, I'm fine," Kay said stubbornly, straightening up in the saddle.

"Of course you are, Kay," muttered Dagonet, shaking his head at Kay's determined attitude.

"I'm glad you agree with me, Dag," replied Kay, raising his chin defiantly.

"I agree with you like Khors would agree with Zeus," said Dagonet, leaning back in his saddle. Khors was the Sarmatian sun and fire god; his fiery temper and obstinate nature was legendary and supposedly ran throughout all Sarmatian blood. Ketchia snickered behind her hand as Kay glowered at Dagonet.

The thundering of hooves made everyone raise their heads. The front of the convoy had suddenly leapt into a canter, threatening to leave the group of stragglers behind. A Roman legionnaire trotted back towards them, his spatha drawn out in an attempt to give him an intimidating aura. He was the least imposing of the legionnaires; skinny and almost sickly, this particular Roman would not be able to get a dog to respect him.

"Get moving, you laggards!" He waved his sword around angrily while they only stared at him, unimpressed. "I mean it, you get those horses moving or I'll stab you straight through. You two walking there, start running!"

Gawain looked at Ketchia, and amusement passed between the two. This Roman was not worth the sword he carried, but here he was, threatening them. Ketchia shot the Roman an unmasked glare, an expression not normally found on her soft face. Dagonet slipped his horse in between the pair and the now highly annoyed Roman.

"Ketchia," he said, extending his hand to the girl. After she took it, he pulled her up onto his horse and looked over to Lancelot. The dark-haired boy understood the message and grudgingly nudged his black stallion towards Gawain. There was a short staring match between the boys before Gawain reluctantly climbed up onto Taron's broad back. Dagonet shared a smirk with Kay as Gawain and Lancelot both made faces at the unhappy Roman.

"Stop that. I mean it, rabble, stop mocking me!"

Lancelot gave a bark of a laugh before kicking Taron into a canter, sending him and Gawain past the Roman in short order. Dagonet would not allow Kay's horse to go any faster than a speedy walk, so they watched the convoy grow farther and farther away while the legionnaire rode behind them, nagging them to go faster without reward.

"Gods, it's huge," breathed Ketchia, her brown eyes widening. It was the end of the first leg of their journey; the convoy had finally entered through the massive gates of the Roman port city of Ostia.

Tinus snorted and gathered the reins in. The mare was becoming jittery as hordes of people pressed in around her. The streets of Ostia were full of loud, bustling city-dwellers, store-owners, and travelers. "Yes, girl, it is huge. Rome is even larger."

Ketchia shivered at the thought. This city was impossibly large; how could Rome be any bigger?

She looked around at the monstrous place, trying to understand everything that was happening. A woman with a baby perched on her hip was yelling at a man running a stall, motioning towards his wares with determination. A man without legs was sitting on the steps of a building, holding out a cup to people passing by. Growls and horse's whinnies mixed with human shouts, and noise upon noise cluttered up the air until it was like wading through layers of sound. Brilliant colors were splashed across the people, the walls, everything. A wares-seller rushed up alongside Tinus's mare and shoved a jar of heavily scented oil in the legionnaire's face.

"For your wife, sir, for when you return home!" the man exclaimed, smiling toothlessly at Tinus. "You can put it on your slave girl, too, if that's what you like." Tinus kicked him away, a look of disgust on his face.

"Buzzards and flies, all of them," he muttered. Ketchia's breath came in short bursts, and she clutched at the saddle. Tinus noticed her strange behavior and turned his head around to look at her. "Too much for you, girl?"

She could not answer him. A reply would only add to the incredible amount of noise. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the legionnaire, burying her face into his cape as she tried to ignore the racket of the market and the overpowering smells.

After a few hours of navigating their way through the city, the convoy ended up at a military compound beside the docks. The wide-stretching ocean was visible from the front gates. While they were waiting for the compound guards to let them inside, the young knights crowded around the wall for a glimpse of the ocean.

"Go on, girl," Tinus said as Ketchia hesitated to join the others. "The salt air will be good for your head."

Nodding, she swung down from the mare's back. She swayed for a second, still dizzy from the sensory overload in the inner part of the city. A cool breeze hit her face, and Ketchia took a deep, relieved breath. It was calmer here, although there were many more legionnaires hanging around. Brushing a few dark brown strands of hair back from her face, Ketchia walked over to the other young knights.

"C'mere, Ket!" Bors shouted, motioning the girl over with his arm. When she was close enough, he grabbed her by the shoulder and thrust her in front of him, squashing her up against the low laying wall. "Ain't it a sight?"

"Yes…" breathed Ketchia, her eyes widening. The little strip of blue that she had seen when they were riding up had widened and became an endless expanse of water. Waves lapped up against the massive wooden vessels that were tied to the docks. The men crawling over the ships did not seem to notice the ocean before them; it was hard to believe that one could become used to such an awesome sight. It was almost like the plains of Sarmatia, endless, uncontainable. Ketchia smiled and glanced back at Bors, who was trying not to look gobsmacked. "Don't you like it, Bors?"

"Hmm," grumbled the big man, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's a mighty big lake. Too big, if you asked me. Could've used the water elsewhere."

"Oh, Bors, it's not too big," said Ketchia, shaking her head as she turned back to look at the water. "It's perfect."

"Does the ocean please you, Ket?" Kay asked as he appeared beside her, leaning over to rest his elbows on the top of the wall. The leader of the knights had lost almost signs of being injured since the wounds had scarred over. Ketchia had been quite smug when Kay had made it through, defying Tinus' predictions about his death.

She nodded, "It reminds me of home."

He affectionately ruffled her bedraggled brown hair. "I thought the same thing," he told her quietly. She grinned at him before turning around to look at the compound. Roman soldiers were pacing the tall stone wall tops; some of them were taking the time to look at the new Sarmatian recruits. Ketchia turned her eyes from them to the group of Romans that had brought them in. Most of them had dwindled away, heading inside the compound for what they probably felt was a well-deserved rest. They had gotten their herd of Sarmatians back to Ostia; now the boys were someone else's headache.

A frown touched her face as she remembered something Tinus had told her months ago. There was something that would happen to him when they reached Ostia…but she could not remember what it was. Her eyes darkening, she pushed past Bors and looked around at the faces of the remaining Romans. Where had he gone?

Ketchia walked back over to Tinus' mare. She had been left unattended, and she seemed agitated, her wide nostrils flaring while she pawed at the ground. Ketchia took her bridle and ran her fingers down the mare's neck, trying to soothe the horse. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone being led into the compound, his hands behind his back. Gasping, Ketchia dropped the bridle and sprinted towards the Romans. "Tinus!"

The Romans did not halt as the scruffy Sarmatian girl ran into the compound, her too-big boots slapping the ground. Tinus, hands bound roughly behind his back with coarse rope, was being marched in front of the convoy commander, Quintilius, and a pair of other legionnaires. The dusty ground blew about Ketchia's feet as she raced to his side.

"Stop! He hasn't done anything wrong!" Ketchia exclaimed, her pleading, confused eyes turned towards Tinus.

The old legionnaire shook his head at her, "Don't do something you'll regret, girl. This is my fate. I accept it, and you should do the same."

"No!" Ketchia shouted, her ember-like temper flaring into a fire. She remembered why they were arresting him. "They have no right to punish you because you don't believe in their God." Her hatred for Romans was blazing now. "You can't force someone to believe in something just because you say it's true!" Hands clenched into fists, she stopped in front of the Romans, forcing them to halt. "And you can't take away what they believe in either, not really. Even death cannot take away something you believe in."

"Pretty speech, little bitch," said Quintilius indifferently, his nose in the air as if she was something distasteful. "However, your insubordination will not be tolerated." Without warning, his hand went to the whip as his side. It flicked out like a snake's tongue, and Ketchia threw her hands up over her face, expecting to be lashed by the unforgiving leather. She heard someone shout her name and the crack of the whip as it hit flesh. Not her flesh, however, for there was no flame-lick sting.

Lowering her arms, Ketchia found Tinus standing in front of her, the whip wrapped around his torso. She gaped at him, unable to believe that he has sacrificed himself for her. "Tinus…"

"Ketchia," he said, breathing hard. Tears pricked her eyes as he spoke her actual name, not 'girl'. "Never close your eyes when an enemy is about to strike you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Ketchia, her voice breaking. She was roughly shoved away by a legionnaire, and she nearly stumbled to the ground. A pair of strong hands grabbed her upper arms and kept her standing as Tinus was led away, not once turning around to look at her. They forced him through a gated door and that was the last she saw of the man who had brought her all the way from her small village in the steppes of Sarmatia to the Roman city of Ostia.

"Come on," Dagonet's gruff yet comforting voice said from above her. She realized that he had been the one to catch her, and she turned around slowly to face him. His eyes were dark with a mix of sympathy and anger as he looked down at her and squeezed her arm reassuringly. Silently, she nodded and walked beside him, taking two steps for his one, as he headed back towards the others.

Avoiding the stares of the boys, Ketchia went to Tinus' mare and took the worn leather reins in her hand while a group of legionnaires started to round up the young knights. The mare whickered at her and nuzzled the girl's shoulder with her soft nose as the pair entered into the military compound.

A/N: I'M BACK! Hehehe, sorry for the year long (?) wait…