Chapter 36: Chapter 36
"You would deal with that bastard? That traitor?" Tristan growled, furious almost beyond reason to think that she would betray him in such a way.
"Will you please stop interrupting me before I can explain?!" she hissed, pulling him close again. Her long fingers digging slightly into his scalp and sending goosebumps shuddering down his back. He really needed a wench.
"They mentioned the Prefect," she continued. "So whatever is happening, it goes beyond just the baron. Don't you see? We could convince Donatus to secretly betray the Prefect and work with us. But in order to hold something over him, we need to catch Iustus and his friend first. Then we can threaten him with exposure and scandal on the basis of their confessions. He'd have everything stripped away from him if this became public. He is infinitely more useful to us alive and where he currently is, than locked in a prison without access to all that money or his contacts."
Tristan's face morphed from anger to confusion and then finally grudging admiration. "You have a terrifying mind," he said. "Let's hope it doesn't get us killed before dawn."
She flicked her eyes over his shoulder to check that their (probably oblivious) audience were still milling about. From what Tristan could hear, they showed no signs of leaving – seemingly engrossed with pissing and/or vomiting against the wall for as long as humanly possible. With a sigh the girl stared at the front of his tunic sullenly. "Have a little faith in me, if no one else." She mumbled. "As if I would lead us into an utterly hopeless situation on purpose."
And something about the way she said that reminded him of all the times Arthur had pleaded with the mutinous-looking knights about a spectacularly dangerous mission. "I do regularly thank the gods you are not Arthur." He joked.
Her mouth fell open, clearly surprised that he could find humour in this. But before they could speak again, the 'audience' of very drunk men noticed them and give a rowdy cheer.
"Give 'im a kiss!"
"Go on, mate – he's pretty!"
They grew more raucous and started to move closer. Equally discomfited, Tristan shared a glance of unanimous sentiment with the girl and they hastily stepped away from each other. Tristan slung one arm over her shoulders and tucked her against his side. He had to emphatically signal to these men that Kat was not for sharing. "Leave off," he said firmly. "We were just on our way."
The men did not seem convinced and began further demands to see them demonstrate their (presumed) feelings for each other.
Tristan, acutely aware of time slipping away, knew that something had to be done that would prevent these morons from following them and ruining everything. Who knew when Iustus would decide to leave?
He just hoped that she didn't break his nose after he did this. Curling his other arm around her narrow waist, he pulled her against him and dipped his head to plant a deep, searing kiss on her lips. They were soft, half-parted (no doubt in preparation to shout at him) and tasted of wine. It was hardly the epic, thunderclap moment of love's realisation. It was simply acting. But she was a good kisser, pushing back and letting her hands bury themselves into his hair again.
The whoop of approval from the men told him that his objective was complete, and he broke away, reeling from the implications of what he had done. She was going to murder him.
"Happy?" he said softly, turning back to the men and smiling in a distinctly predatory manner. Bloody stupid drunks. "And now we have things to do that I really don't want an audience for." They leered appreciatively at his insinuation, but before they could suggest anything specific he grabbed her hand and dragged her back into the tavern's kitchen.
"Nicely done," she said softly as they entered, weaving their way through the mass of cooks and servers. Having no idea what she was complimenting him about, Tristan let it go and focused on what had to be done. He sought out the only two men who were still sober: Dagonet and (very surprisingly) Arthur, who had turned up to have a quiet drink with his old friend. Quickly and quietly explaining Kation's plan and identifying the men they were after, Tristan won their co-operation and they made a very public exit, feigning drunkenness. Well, Dagonet and Arthur grinned broadly and talked in loud voices about what great friends they were. Tristan pretended to be unsteady on his feet, feigning to use the girl as a crutch.
Once out of sight, he and the girl promptly propelled themselves to opposite sides of the narrow alley where they had taken refuge. The Kat's eyes were blazing. Oh yes, she was furious. He sighed and ran a hand down his face tiredly. "I did what had to be done."
Before she could begin to retaliate (verbally or physically, at this point Tristan wasn't sure which she would favour), Dagonet intervened. "Calm down and be quiet," he said, and then turned to Arthur. "How will we catch them?"
"You will go after one while Tristan and I will go for the other," Arthur said promptly. "Kation, go fetch some rope from the stables so we can bind their arms. And some cloth to gag their mouths."
The girl nodded and disappeared up onto the roofs via a convenient rain barrel. Tristan had to admit that it was a very safe way for her to travel about the fort – she never ran into meandering men who might try to force themselves upon her, and she seemed sure-footed enough that he doubted she would lose her balance and fall.
"Does he always do that?" Arthur asked, surprised and not a little alarmed at the display.
"Yes, he will be perfectly safe." Tristan said wearily.
They stood in silence, watching all the men who left the tavern, waiting for Iustus and his friend to appear. Kation returned with a skin of water and the required items. Handing the skin of water to Arthur respectfully, she then retreated to the shadows where she apportioned out the rope and gags into two separate piles before disappearing to the rooftops once more to keep watch.
Tristan slumped against the wall, exhausted and now seriously considering how he might avoid the girl's considerable wrath. After all, she hadn't said a word to him since the kitchens. And what had that 'nicely done' been about? Had she been complimenting him on the kiss? Because it hadn't exactly been his best effort. Perhaps she had not had much experience in such things. Strangely, Tristan found himself hoping that was the case. The idea of her in the arms of a man – any man – made him feel distinctly unsettled.
A sudden owl hoot from the roof (not her most subtle effort) announced that their targets were on the move. Getting to his feet, he noticed Arthur and Dagonet also moving into the edges of the shadows, ready to strike. Moments later, Iustus and his comrade appeared. They seemed only lightly intoxicated but were unaware of their imminent capture. He sprang forward, Dagonet and Arthur silently following him and they hit the two men simultaneously. Tristan and Arthur both fell upon Iustus, wrestling him to the ground with well-placed kicks and punches. The other man was promptly flattened by a flying dive from Dagonet, crushing the man beneath his bulk. Kation appeared seconds later, having retrieved the ropes and gags. Both men were groaning loudly, but no one particularly cared. After being checked for weapons (three knives), bound and gagged, the prisoners were hauled to their feet and promptly marched off to the cells.
Once they were shut away, Kation, having retrieved the waterskin and taken a swig from it, offered it to Tristan. He accepted and was once again grateful for the way she would think of little things that made all the difference. Like providing water after a fight, or checking the fletches on his arrows, or stealing him freshly baked buns from the tavern kitchen when she performed an early morning raid (much to Vanora's barely concealed, yet still strangely tolerant, annoyance).
They all filed into Arthur's rooms to execute the next part of the plan.
"Right," Arthur said, looking excited. "Tristan, you and Kation ride ahead to Baron Donatus' villa and announce my arrival on the morrow. I will close the fort down after you leave, thus preventing any of Donatus' spies from escaping to warn their master. Dagonet, you stay and make sure that no one tries to assassinate the prisoners to prevent them from betraying the conspiracy. And keep an eye on the other knights – I fear they are being a little too frivolous."
After three brisk nods and a hastily written letter (for Tristan to present to the baron upon arrival), they were all off to their respective duties.
Kation made straight for the saddles and bridles of Sarakos and Tagiytei. Tristan grabbed a brush and swept any grime off the horse's backs and bellies and then they hastily tacked up.
"Fetch my sword, some water and warm cloaks – we'll have to ride through the night." Tristan said. Kation nodded and disappeared up to his room, returning with two bulging waterskins and two heavy woollen black cloaks. They also attached a bow and a quiver of arrows to each saddle – because bandits were always a possibility. After donning his cloak, Tristan slung his sword across his back and turned to see Kation struggling to pin her cloak. He walked over to her and roughly pushed the pin through the coarse material and then laid a hand over the brooch, gripping her shoulder.
What could he say? He didn't know how to articulate his appreciation of their strange… alliance? Friendship? Whatever it was, it meant a lot to him. He found that despite her secretive ways, frustratingly paradoxical behaviour, skewed loyalties and odd language, he relied on her. He was starting to trust her.
"We should go," she reminded him. He nodded and helped her up into Sarakos' saddle before mounting Tagiytei. The moment they were out of the gates, Tristan urged Tagiytei into a steady trot – it was a several miles south to Donatus' villa and they had to move quickly. The light of a full moon in a clear icy sky provided just enough light to travel by and they did not speak for a long time.
~oOo~
Vanora was worried. Desperately worried.
Kation had seemed so intense, so fierce just now as she pulled Brenna away to talk. What had happened? Was everyone alright? Or did it have something to do with Gawain?
Tristan's slave had told her all about that particular problem. And while they both agreed the two would make a wonderful couple, the fort (and probably Britannia itself) needed Gawain's mind to stay very firmly 'on task'. The headiness of newly realised love would utterly cloud his judgement; and so it was with grim resolution that Kation and Vanora would strive to keep them apart as much as humanly possible. It wouldn't be easy, it wouldn't be pretty, but it was for everyone's good.
At least it won't be forever, she thought wretchedly, her hands gliding over her enormous belly. This babe was going to be a very good runner – all the time pushing its feet against her organs (particularly her bladder!) and skin. Sometimes, especially at night, she would feel utterly nauseated by the sensation and in her very emotional state would often resort to verbally begging the child to give her peace. Something told her that it was going to be the most tremendous handful, boy or girl. Although Bors was convinced it was the former.
Her reverie was broken when Galahad walked over to her looking annoyed.
"Gawain says I'm to escort you home – Bors has been called away to help Dagonet with an errand." He said.
Vanora snorted and crossed her arms above her bump. "Even if that were so, I am not going anywhere just yet. And Brenna will be coming with us."
Brenna lived in Vanora's spare room, contributing to the upkeep of the house and taking the pressures off Vanora – she was becoming an especially vital help as the pregnancy entered its final weeks. It wouldn't be long now.
Galahad nodded and returned to the other knights. Gawain was twisted right round, listening intently to a bunch of drunken legionaries and their friends from the village. They were talking animatedly and Gawain had begun to ignore the other knights in favour of the conversation from the other table. He had grave intent written all over his slightly flushed face.
What was going on? Normally Gawain had absolutely no time for such people. That meant that their gossip held some personal interest for him. She had no excuse to go over there, but judging by the way that Gawain's already pink face was slowly turning into a very dusky red, he looked angry and ready to start a fight. But not with the men.
The people around him edged away nervously, quietly diverting their gazes and conversations elsewhere to avoid the knight's attention.
Vanora wasn't going to witness a brawl. Not in her tavern. And certainly never involving the knights. Retrieving a small, but very well-balanced pan from a shelf, she sidled closer, pretending to polish it with a rag she'd snatched from her belt.
As she drew near she heard Kahedin, the only one among them with the nerve (or perhaps stupidity), ask his friend what the matter was. "Choked on some wine?" He said jokingly, trying to pour more of that beverage into his cup. At least half of it went over the table before he hit the mark.
"No." Gawain said, his voice thick with ire. "Where's Tristan gone?"
"Left a little while ago with Arthur and Dagonet." Kahedin replied cheerfully, concentrating on setting the wine back on the table correctly. "Why? Did he steal something?"
As unlikely as that theory was, Gawain's face did denote a serious crime of some sort had recently taken place without his knowledge or sanction. Vanora felt that sinking feeling in her heart… one that boded ill for Tristan. She only hoped it had nothing to do with Kation.
"No. But I will cut off his balls for this."
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