Chapter Eight

Meet the Saxons

Silence reigned after Tristan’s quiet explanation, complete silence except for the sound of the Scout munching on his apple.

“She’s a what?!” Bors practically yelled, shocked.

“You heard him, brother,” Dagonet said, looking up from the carving in his hands.

Gawain looked at Bors, and Dagonet could see a smirk on his face. “Aren’t you glad we saved her now, Bors?”

Bors spluttered something unintelligible and then stood up. “I need a drink,” he muttered and went off to find his saddlebags.

Lancelot laughed and Dagonet looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is something funny, Lancelot?”

Lancelot shook his head, smiling. “I just think it’s rather entertaining, Bors’s reactions to things.” He stood and yawned, “I’m going to sleep now,” he smiled suddenly, “Remind me to talk to that girl tomorrow.”

Tristan narrowed his brown eyes at Lancelot and bit rather viciously into his apple, but remained silent.

“You’ll not go near her, Lance,” Dagonet told him, “Tristan’s the one who found her and I’m the only healer, therefore you have no reason to approach her for anything.”

Lancelot snorted. “You two just don’t like letting me have any fun.”

“Go on, Lance,” Dagonet waved him off, “And leave the women alone.”

Lancelot laughed and went off to his bedroll.

Gawain and Galahad wandered off to their own beds leaving Dagonet and Tristan on their own by the fire.

“I feel sorry for them,” Dagonet commented after a few minutes of silence.

Tristan looked at him, taking a bite of his apple and waiting for the healer to keep speaking.

“They don’t understand,” Dagonet continued, “They overlook so many things and when someone else, someone more perceptive to the little things, mentions something they didn’t notice, they ostracize them.”

Tristan stared at Dagonet for a long moment and then slowly nodded, taking another bite of his apple.

Dagonet smiled slightly and stood. “You know I actually care what you have to say, when you choose to speak, Tristan. Arthur cares about all of us more than he’ll openly show,” he dropped the girl’s carving into Tristan’s hand, “Try and get some sleep tonight, Trist, I know it doesn’t come easily to you, but try.”

A very brief smile flickered across the Scout’s face as he looked from the carving in his hand to his friend’s face.

“Goodnight, Trist.” Dagonet walked over and settled down in his bed, keeping his sword at hand.

Sometime around midnight a very slight noise caught Tristan’s attention. The Scout, who had remained at the fireside long after the others had gone to bed, stood and drew his bow, nocking an arrow to its string. That was when he saw her. Guinevere was walking nearly silently at the edge of the camp. She passed by Arthur and he woke with a start, standing to follow her into the surrounding trees. Tristan watched them for a moment before deciding to follow at a safe distance. His bow was still drawn; something didn’t quite sit right with him.

Tristan watched as Guinevere led Arthur a ways into the woods and then stopped in a small clearing. The Scout could see that Arthur looked slightly confused as he approached Guinevere. Arthur opened his mouth to say something when there was a brief rustle amongst the trees. He jumped back, drawing his sword; Tristan, hidden in some shrubbery, aimed his bow at the man who suddenly appeared. It was Merlin.

“You betrayed me.” Arthur accused Guinevere.

“He means you no harm,” she replied calmly.

“Peace between us this night, Arthur Castus.” Merlin called out to Tristan’s Commander and started down the slight incline, coming closer to Guinevere and Arthur.

Tristan kept his bow aimed for Merlin’s heart, even as he noticed how apprehensive Arthur had become.

“So Rome is leaving, the Saxon has come,” Merlin continued speaking, “The world we have known and fought for is ended. Now we must make a new world.”

“Your world, Merlin, not mine,” Arthur’s sword didn’t waver as he pointed it towards the old Woad, “I will be in Rome.”

“To find peace?” Merlin asked, “The Saxons will come to Rome.”

“My Knights trust me not to betray them to their enemy.” Tristan could hear the authoritative tone in Arthur’s voice.

“Rome was my enemy,” the old man replied, “Not Arthur. We have no fight between us now.”

“You tell that to the Knights you killed before my eyes,” Arthur spit out bitterly, “whose bones are buried in this earth.”

“We have all lost brothers.” Merlin told him quietly.

“You know nothing of the loss I speak!” Arthur shouted. Tristan could hear his Commander take a deep breath and continue speaking, his voice quavering ever so slightly. “Shall I help you remember? An attack on a village. The screams of an innocent woman. Your men attacked my village, walled my mother into our own house and lit it on fire. I called out her name, but she couldn’t hear me, so I did the only other thing possible. I ran to the burial mound of my father to free her.” He glared at Merlin, placing the tip of his sword at the Woad’s throat, “To kill you. With my father’s sword in hand I ran back into our village, only to see that every Woad had gone and our house was all but destroyed. I feel the heat of that fire on my face even now.”

Tristan lowered his bow, eyes wide, his face showing emotion for the first time in many years. He’d had no idea what Arthur had gone through, just like none of the other Knights knew what he had gone through. ‘You and I are not so different after all,’ the Scout thought to himself.

“I did not wish your mother dead.” Merlin said to Arthur, “She was of our blood, as are you.”

“If you were so determined to leave us to slaughter,” Guinevere spoke up, looking at Arthur, “why did you save so many?”

Arthur didn’t answer and Tristan could see the confusion and indecision on his Commander’s face. He watched as Arthur lowered his sword.

“My men are strong, but they have need of a true leader.” Merlin explained, “They believe you can do anything. To defeat the Saxon we need a master of war.” The old Woad walked over to stand beside Guinevere, pointing to Arthur’s sword, “That sword you carry is made of iron from this earth, forged in the fires of Britain. It was love of your mother that freed the sword from your father’s grave, not hatred of me. Love, Arthur.”

“It is your destiny,” Guinevere spoke up again.

“There is no destiny,” Arthur retorted, “Only free will.”

“And what of the free will of your Knights?” Merlin asked as Arthur started to walk away, “Did they die in vain?”

As Arthur stopped in his tracks, Tristan could see his shoulders shaking slightly, but his Commander remained silent, refusing to answer, and trudged back to the camp.

Tristan remained in the trees, wanting to watch Guinevere and Merlin. Once Arthur was out of sight, Merlin embraced Guin, murmuring. “I thought I’d lost you, daughter.”

Tristan could see her smile as she replied. “I never gave up hope that I would be rescued.”

Merlin suddenly looked up, straight into Tristan’s eyes. “Come out into the moonlight, sir Scout.”

Tristan stepped out from the trees, still holding his bow at his side. He kept his distance from the two Woads, eyeing Merlin suspiciously.

“Arthur couldn’t have chosen a better man to be his Scout,” Merlin commented as he took his Tristan’s appearance and attitude. “I understand your silence and I commend you for making it this far. Yours is not a life chosen by many, but you do well.”

Tristan just stared at him, standing lightly on the balls of his feet, like a deer ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.

“I have plans to attend to, daughter,” Merlin told Guinevere, taking a step back. “I will see you again soon.”

Guinevere and Tristan both watched Merlin disappear into the trees.

“Why do you not speak?” Guin asked Tristan after Merlin was gone.

Tristan gave her a sidelong glance as he put his arrow back into its quiver, but stayed silent.

“I know you are able to speak,” she told him, “yet you choose not to. Why?”

“I am beneath them,” the Scout stated simply, “They have no need to listen.”

Guin stared at him. “You are above them, Sir Tristan, so far above them. You know so much more than you give yourself credit for. You watch everything around you and, if you so chose, you could easily be the talk of the country. Don’t let how others treat you define who you are.”

The Scout looked at her, truly looked at her for the briefest of moments, and then turned away and walked off, silent as ever.

Guinevere frowned and made her way back to the cart where her bed was.

--

Tristan was the only one to watch the sun rise the next morning. The sky was lit brightly with various shades of red, orange, and yellow and he looked at Hawk, who was perched on his arm.

“Bad omen, girl,” he whispered, “There is a red sky this morning.”

The Scout turned and looked down at the camp from the small hill he was on. Hawk started squirming just as Tristan noticed movement from some of the Roman soldiers in the camp. About half a dozen of them were making their way towards where Dagonet and Lucan were sleeping. Tristan let Hawk fly. As much as he wanted to see what was going on in the camp, he knew he had a scouting job to do. He mounted his horse and rode off through the trees.

Dagonet was jerked from his sleep by several Roman soldiers who pulled him to his feet none too gently.

“No!” Lucan yelled as the soldiers began to strike at Dagonet.

But Dagonet started fighting back. The healer knocked down two of the soldiers and then pulled out the knife that he always had in a small sheath on his thigh. But it was already too late.

“I have the boy!” Marius shouted. He had his arm around Lucan and a knife to the boy’s throat.

Marius’s wife and son stared in horror, unsure of what to do.

“Kill him!” Marius shouted at the soldiers, “Kill him now!”

The soldiers began closing in on Dagonet, who was looking around, baffled.

“No! Don’t do this!” Marius’s wife ran towards her husband, trying to make him let go of Lucan.

Marius just pushed her roughly aside where Gawain caught her, preventing her from falling.

Just then an arrow came flying from the trees, hitting Marius in the chest. He let go of Lucan and fell back, staring at the arrow as his eyes darkened. Lucan ran straight to Dagonet as soon as he was able and Dagonet gently pushed the boy behind him, reaching for his sword. “Stay down, Lucan,” the healer told the boy.

The soldiers were hesitant now that Marius was dead and as Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, and Arthur came up, they lowered their swords slightly. That was when Dagonet noticed the figure standing in the trees.

There she stood, longbow in hand, another arrow ready on its string. Her mouth was set in a grim line, her pale face showing no emotion whatsoever.

“Artorius!” Bors’s shout echoed around the campsite as he came galloping in. “Do we have a problem?” Bors demanded of the soldiers, edging his horse closer to them, his axe in full view and ready to be used.

“You have a choice,” Arthur told the soldiers, pointing his sword at them, “You help or you die.”

One of the soldiers dropped his sword and then looked around at the others. “Drop your weapons.”

They hesitated.

“Drop them!” the soldier shouted.

The other soldiers obeyed this time, all of them tossing their swords into a pile. Jols went through and gathered up all the weapons just as Tristan rode up.

“How many did you kill?” Bors asked the Scout.

“Four,” Tristan replied. He stopped his horse in front of Arthur and dropped a Saxon crossbow at his Commander’s feet. “Armor piercing,” he told Arthur.

“They’re close, then,” Gawain spoke up, “We have no time.”

“You ride ahead,” Arthur commanded Tristan.

The Scout nodded and was about to ride off when he noticed the figure in the trees. The two stared at each other for a moment; the silent Scout and the grim archer. Something indiscernible flickered in Tristan’s brown eyes and he kept eye contact for just a moment longer before riding off to scout ahead.

As the other Knights went off to get the villagers moving, Dagonet walked up to the figure.

“Are you sure you’re well enough to be out?” he asked her.

She just stared at him and nodded once, strands of her long black hair falling in front of her face.

“You saved my life,” he told her, “I have no way of repaying you.”

“You already have,” she informed him quietly, “You rescued me.”

Dagonet shook his head. “I did not. Tristan did.”

She looked at him, tilting her head to the side.

“The Scout,” he explained, “The one with the hawk, he’s the one who rescued you.”

She nodded and then looked around at the camp.

Dagonet reached out to lightly trace a scar on her forehead and she flinched away from his hand, taking a step away and eyeing him distrustfully, much like a captured wild animal.

“What’s your name?” the healer asked.

She looked at him with a bright green gaze. “Nova.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing better, Nova, but you should get back to the cart, we’re about to head out.”

Nova nodded once and started walking towards the wagon. Dagonet watched her walk away for a moment, wondering how she’d come to be in Britain. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down at Lucan.

“She’ll get used to people,” the boy told him, “It’ll take her a while but she’ll open up more.”

Dagonet knelt in front of Lucan and looked him in the eye. “How do you know that, Lucan?”

Lucan blinked once and looked at Dagonet with his sky blue eyes. “I can See the future,” he replied quietly, “But I don’t tell many people that.”

Dagonet smiled. “I have nothing against that, Lucan. It’s a gift for you to use to the best of your ability. Use it for good and no harm will come of it.”

Lucan smiled back and impulsively hugged the healer. “Thank you… for everything,” he whispered.

Dagonet stood up, lifting Lucan in his arms and sat him on his horse. “You are more than welcome, Lucan.”

The healer cleaned up what little belongings he’d brought, packed them onto his horse and then swung up behind Lucan, kicking his horse towards the other Knights.

Nova was almost to the wagon when she heard a low cry from Hawk. She looked up just in time to see the bird drop something small. She caught it instantly and stared at it. It was her carving. The girl looked up at the bird, who was now perched on a nearby branch.

“Why?” she asked quietly.

Hawk ruffled her wings, giving the impression of a shrug, and then took off, soaring back to her friend the Scout.

Nova watched the bird for a moment and then turned back to the wagon and climbed inside, going to sit in the darkest corner where no one would bother her. She clutched the carving in her hand, running her thumb over the intricate grooves. She’d thought she’d lost it but now she had it back. Why had he given it up? And why had he even taken it to begin with. She had no memory of anyone ever taking it from her. She frowned ever so slightly and looked out through a crack in the wood, paying attention to everything she could see.

The entire group started forward, along the road and within minutes they reached a large frozen over lake. Nova heard the command to halt and she peered out of the wagon. The Knights were all riding forward, talking about crossing the ice. Soon enough the command was given to everyone to get out of their wagons and spread out across the ice. Everyone obeyed, but the going was slow and the horses were nervous. About two-thirds of the way across the ice, drums started to sound, making the horses even more nervous. The drums echoed off the surrounding trees and hills.

Nova watched as Arthur called the group to a halt and she listened closely. It sounded as though all the Knights were staying to fight the approaching Saxon army. She reached for the bow she’d borrowed and the quiver and made her way out of the wagon. Glancing back she could see Guinevere following her out with her own bow and quiver.

“But you’re seven against two hundred!” Ganis objected.

Guin and Nova looked at each other and Nova nodded. “Nine,” Guinevere spoke up as she and Nova walked up to the Knights, “You could use two more bows.”

Arthur looked at them both and nodded. “So be it.”

“Dagonet,” Lucan looked down at the Knight who had just dismounted, “You can’t stay.”

“Why not, Lucan?” the healer asked.

“You’ll be killed,” the boy replied in a whisper.

Dagonet stared at him and then whispered back. “If my death saves Arthur and the rest of you, then I will go willingly.”

Lucan glanced over at Nova and then looked back at Dagonet. “As long as she stays, you all should be fine.”

Dagonet nodded. “Take care of my horse now, Lucan, I’ll be only a few minutes.”

Lucan managed a smile as Jols led the horse away with him atop it. The caravan moved out, going the only safe way they could and leaving the Knights, Nova, and Guinevere behind.

Dagonet picked up his own bow and stood in a line with the others, waiting for the Saxons to come.

“Hold until I give the command,” Arthur told them.

The Saxon army was in full view now and Dagonet glanced around him at his friends, his brothers. His gaze stopped briefly at Nova and he allowed a small smile to appear on his face. The girl had strength; that much was certain. He looked away when she caught him looking at her and he took a deep breath. If he was going to die, as Lucan had said, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. The healer only hoped that he would be able to save all the others in the process.

The drums stopped and the Knights waited for Arthur’s command.

Author's Note: Well, I hope y'all enjoyed the next chapter. I'm seriously on a writing rampage here. I mean two chapters written and posted within the space of two days. Pretty cool if you ask me. Anyway, I'm working on chapter nine, thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope more people keep telling me what they think.
Until next time...
-Anna
p.s.- I think this is the longest chapter yet!