Post by Lancelot on Sept 22, 2013 5:53:53 GMT -6
The Visitor
It was an insistent and steadying pounding at the door that, finally broke thru the haze of passion they were submerged in… a young knight’s voice... strong and under orders… "Sir… Sir Gareth has sent me... Riders approach... a band of them... they are unknown to us... they appear... Roman. He Request you come immediately." the boys voice trembled at the order from Gareth... to haul Lancelot from between his woman’s thighs if need be… He didn't like the look of the riders who were headed down the cleared long path toward the fort... something about them was off.
Lancelot would have preferred to stay where he was… between soft thighs… in the reaches of a loving woman… but noooo, some ass was pounding at his door as if life depended upon it. And if it was not important, someone’s life would depend on it.
Marculean Crassus... was the leader of the Roman bounty hunters. He himself known as Lord Marc, a Former Roman General who had seen many a battle and found he had a taste for blood... and though his own estates were rich and vast... he enjoyed coming to the wilds... the wilds of Britain... where lives were valued by the price on someone’s head... where rules were made by the strong, and the weak were chattel and enjoyment for he and his men. Civility bored him... the pampered Roman women and their noble needs... left his cock limp... he missed the blood... the guts… the glory of being a Roman soldier... of being a butcher... a barbarian, taking what he wanted with Sword and Shield... be that land, money, crops, villages, and the slaves within it… He had made a fortune in the slave trade... but even tracking down and finding slaves bored him... now... he hunted people... criminals the Roman Crown had put a price on... He had gathered a band of men of like-mind... Vicious, barbaric men who owed him allegiance... bound to him by honor... but also by a kinship of souls as black as a moonless night. And now, he had come to Bana... on the hunt.
Unbeknownst to him or the other, the guests at the gate would not be on Lancelot’s favored side… Still even years after Badon Hill, the sour taste of Roman legacies have tainted many of the folks’ minds who remained… including Lancelot. He had given 15 years to the Romans… to them, he had surrendered his youth. And of the Romans who decidedly remained behind, he had allowed them opportunity to befriend him… but alas, there was that entity of Roman greed who remained as well. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, and other riff-raff… definite outcasts from the Britons. Those were ones Lancelot had wished Arthur’s God had banned from their Isle.
Lancelot hesitated at the pounding upon the door… Would he answer the door, or send them away? He looked down at her and leaned down to kiss her.
Her face frowned at the voice behind the door... and then she was shoving him off her toward his duty. "Go... the fire here will still burn…" there was a bit of a smirk on her face, as she noted the hefty bulge in his pants, raising her brow mockingly, as she too rolled from the bed, reaching for her boots while he shouldered into his shirt. "Duty Calls... that why I prefer freedom, I hold myself to no man…" it had been a mantra of hers since she had become free... but now she would have to amend it... "Unless I wish it…" she amended her hip bumping his as she pulled on the boots and laced them.
“Go…” as she pushed him away… “The fire burns now…” he huffed… And as she rolled away from his reach… “By the Gods woman… You are as evil as they come…” He had to readjust himself now through the trousers. And as she mentioned no man unless she wished it, he smirked and shook his head. “Damnation, I knew I should have ignored the incessant knocking…” And he ensured he was prepared to meet whatever at the gates. Slinging the dual sword harness upon his back and cinched the straps tight. And as she was ready, he nodded toward the door. “After you woman…”
Out of the quarters together, they crossed open areas and past small walkways between buildings until they came to the large open area of the gate. There, he made his way ahead of her as they scaled the way to the catwalk.
Out of doors, she followed him up the ladders onto the crenellated catwalk that surveyed the long path toward the fort… she noted several men looking her way, and Lancelot’s way, the whispered talk and she could not help but chuckle as she gained his side… "They think you have bedded me…" she grinned up at him teasingly.
He had not noticed, his mind upon the cause for this ignorant interruption. He looked at her… “What? Huh?” he looked a bit shocked… then he smirked, snarling a bit as he whispered hard... “I WISH I would have had the chance to finish what we started….” And he huffed looking back to the horizon, as a medium size contingent made its way from the forests toward the fort.
Then snorted at his black scowling looks toward the approaching Sir Gareth. She cared not what the men thought of them... whether they considered her bedded or not… but she did care that Lancelot looked angry. "A well-bedded man would have a less sour look." she goaded him, trying to lighten his mood before they met the blustery Sir Gareth...
And he looked back at her words… “I too would be less sour… if…” he whispered… then he followed her gaze toward Gareth. “Report sir…” and luckily he offered Gareth a usual bland look.
He had the grace to give her a sheepish nod of apology "Forgive me Milady for the intrusion but I thought the Commander would want to address the matter of petitioning Guest… Bounty Hunters... Roman Bounty Hunters!" his chin nodded to the thirty-some-odd men still atop their mounts outside the gates… Lord Marc looking antsy and annoyed they had been kept waiting… "Say's his Lordship had papers from Rome, giving him orders to hunt down and bring back several folks from the area..." Gareth looked over the pine spikes that made up the upper wall… "They want to shelter here, and use Bana as their headquarters…"
“Bounty Hunters?” …and the Dark Knight had lived up to expectations, with his glare. Of all the reasons to interrupt a blissful situation… such as the one they had been in not 20 minutes before… he would have to entertain requests from such scum as bounty hunters, regardless of their nationality… but to be Roman as well. His stomach churned. “Orders from Rome…??” then he halfheartedly chuckled. “I do not give a flying f…” then he cut off his sentence with a huff.
Lancelot looked at Gareth, then to Uriell, and then canted his head. He suddenly changed the look upon his face from disgust to the usual bland. Stepping onto the raised platform, he looked over the top of the parapet wall. “I am Commander of this fort, state your business…”
He would look upon the men gathered knowing full well, he would offer sanctuary to their commander, and maybe an aide, but he’d be damned to allow all those men within his fort. And… then two men would have guards with them at all time. Romans !! He wanted to spit the taste from his mouth.
"I'm Lord Marc... of Rome... and I come here with the blessing of the Emperor... to search for criminals… I have a list of those who have bounties on their head... and it is my sworn duty to bring them to justice…" He gave a salute of respect to Lancelot… "I see the stories of your demise are false... for here stands the Great Sarmatian Warrior... Lancelot... commanding a Roman Fort…" of course since the romans had left the county they were no longer in power… and yet the great Roman Empire considered these lands and the towns and forts they had built theirs... to Command, use and if need be destroy. The people here were less than animals to them... but Rome had suffered a great wound with Briton... and had limped back to lick its wound... now... it wanted Justice. "We would be honored to share Bana with you while on this mission..." he gave a cocky grin to Lancelot, as if indeed Lancelot was the one being honored by the Great Roman Citizen…
Lancelot grit his teeth as he listened to the arrogant bastard. “Blessing of the Emperor…” , ha… Lancelot would bet his last copper on that. “I remain… as my demise is truly false… and I do not, nor wish to command, nor desire to be even the slightest associated with, ANYTHING Roman…” and he began pointing to the fort… “And THIS, is no Roman fort… Bana, as all things Britannia, belongs to Britain. Rome has no longer any claim here…” His dark eyes narrowed. Now the arrogant bastard was pushing his limitations… Then with an evil smirk, the Dark Knight spoke… “But you and yer second can remain overnight to rest…”
Being known to have a bounty on her head by Romans and Saxons, she did not step up beside him, and stick her head in front of the bounty hunters gaze. True she looked nothing like the fabled She Wolf at the moment… but the men here in the fort, knew her to be so... no use stirring the pot so to speak. She listened to the exchange of words with a sinking dread… Her infamy had not gone unnoticed in the far off Capitol of Rome. She was responsible for some 5000 men’s deaths, a whole legion... and Marcus Virilus their Beloved General had died by her own hand. A heart that had beat with so much love and promise grew cold as she listened to the Roman Leader of the Bounty Hunters... Use his persuasion to ask for entrance to Bana... As Lancelot’s face took on the tenor of bland and emotionless, hers grew tighter and colder, her arms crossing over her chest in a manner that foretold a storm. She heard Lancelot offer the men the use of the field outside for their camp... and then sanctuary for their Commander and one of his trusted... her eyes shot him a sideways glance, before she moved down the catwalk to the ladder, her steps all business and quick.
Lancelot turned from the parapet of the fort, and headed down the stairs, his eyes urging Uriell to follow. As he neared the open area of the fort’s inner gate, Lancelot began to motion to his soldiers. “Darius, assemble a guard force… five men, four shifts… full accruement, secure the livery stalls for our ‘guest’… The Roman dogs will sleep in the livery with no allowance to roam.” Lancelot smirked… “Let them in, and as the gates close, secure the two… the rest can wait outside. We can release them tomorrow, after we have shown our ‘Roman hospitality’…” And the Dark Knight just chuckled and took Uriell’s hand and walked toward the gate.
Her hand slipped from his after a moment of contact… "Ares" she spoke then turned toward the stables… "He was Marcus' stallion... they might recognize him…" And then she was headed toward the stable without another word; intent on moving the snow white war horse from being discovered. It was ridiculous that Bana had no second back gate, understandably more defensible without one... yet…a back way out was always a Picts second plan...
Her speech sounded troubled, and was more of a mumble than clear speech. All he caught was Ares… Marcus… recognize… and he put those together and formed a complete thought. And he shook his head. Had she chose to hide the fear of discovery by departing the gate area? Was she THAT afraid of these Roman scum? And he said nothing when she departed… though he was a bit confused, and he took a glance to Gareth. With a nod of his head, his silent instructions caused Gareth to follow after Uriell.
Once in the stable she found the young lad who had tended Ares the night before telling him to take the horse to some outbuilding, that would not be easy to find for guest. Her eyes lit on the roman saddle, emblazoned with Marcus's legion symbol and she hefted it up...
Gareth followed behind Uriell, keeping his distance as to not prevent her from her task, but not hiding as to cause her concern. And at the stable, he overheard her instructions to the stableboy. Standing tall, he stepped forward as she left the livery, saddle in hand. “M’Lady Uriell… can I be of assistance?” Gareth said purposely. “Lancelot sent me to help you.”
Heading toward Lancelot's quarters where she shoved it under the bed out of sight. Lancelot may have wanted her with him, but it was more important to hide the fact the She Wolf was in Bana... the less the Romans suspected, the better...
She had declined his offer of assistance, instead, moving inside Lancelot’s quarters. He sighed and shrug his shoulders. “M’Lady, if you would but tell Lancelot, he would surely understand and fend for you…” he canted his head. “Unwarned, is unarmed M’Lady.” He stepped closer as she shoved the saddle beneath the bed. “Know this M’Lady… We trust Lancelot with our lives… and he trusts you with his. And in so much as our own lives, I pray that yu know we would protect you…” The large man smiled and canted his head.
Finally she turned to him when the saddle was packed away, "I know he would protect me with his life… I have no doubt... nor do I have the right to put this fort in danger... because I cannot hide a horse and saddle." her eyes shown with the conviction of her love for Lancelot, and his people even if she did not realize it quite as such… yet… "There is no reason to offer up the She Wolf is in residence... here... better to... just be Lancelot’s Lady... don't you think?" with that she gave him a rare smile.
As she left Lance's quarters, headed toward the market square where she... yes, went shopping… probably much to Gareth's consternation. Would he ever understand women…?? She quickly garnered the things she needed... a silver hair comb, and necklace that was likened to a collar... as well as sandals that a roman lady would wear. Before she turned back to the bear-like Gareth… "Please tell your Commander his Lady will be joining him shortly…" her eyes held all kinds of mischief... and a blush of excitement...
At Lancelot's words of Bana no longer being a Roman fort, Lord Marc scowled darkly. This Lancelot was impudent and cocky... already he could see there would be no concord of men, no alliance here… but it mattered not. He smiled up at the Commander of Bana… "We would be honored to accept your hospitality…" with that he bowed genially and then turned back to his men… giving the orders for them to set up camp in the field outside the gates... in the Forest that surrounded Bana. Scouts and sentries had already taken up their duties… to watch and see if any rats ran from Bana... That would be all they needed to have an incident worthy of picking Lancelot from his lofty perch... and Marc relished the thought... while he walked toward the gates, his second at his side... to accept the Briton Hospitality.
And at the acceptance, Lancelot motioned to Darius to gather his men. He trusted not the Roman dogs yelping at his door… Arthur may be more trusting, but he, as First Knight, shall not be so… As in his experience, he knew Marc’s men would try to circumvent the garrison… and the Dark Knight smirked. Many of the men, and women, in this fort had been with him and beaten the Saxon horde… and Lancelot knew, should need be, they would beat these bounty hunters.
If Merlin was magical, a seer, then Lancelot would hope the old man would see their dilemma and know what lie in store.
Lord Marc and his second rode into the fort at Lancelot’s invitation. It was a utilitarian fort, not much on looks, but great on defense, high thick walls with crenellated timbers, corner watch towers, and catwalks for archers, even a iron portcullis... and thick hewn oaken gates... a fine setup, and one he was looking to use as his base camp while he beat the brushes for the Roman bounties.
Once inside, he dismounted and stood flicking invisible dust from his doublet... his blond cropped hair catching the morning sun... "It seems a fine station... very nice very nice. As you can imagine, we have been missing such accommodations as we traveled down the coast line... savage land this…" he smiled up at Lancelot… "…but we do have excellent scouting maps for you on the Saxon's camps up north that we passed… should serve you well." as he said it, the second began to unpack reams of maps... that one assumed had movements and markings on them…
Outside the fort, more activity than just the Roman mercenaries was occurring. Merlin, in fact, had foreseen a disruptance in the natural flow of energy long before Marc’s men even arrived in the Bana area… and in those earlier days, the mystic shaman sought the answers to many unspoken questions. The tall dark, bearded man stood next to the smoking fire, his hand seeming to draw the smoke to his nostrils, and inhaled… the dark eerie eyes glistening, and appearing to focus out of mind.
Moments later, Merlin tilted his head and looked directly into the flame… and in the soft, deep tone of his voice, he spoke in Gaelic… “Wolves have returned to Britain… determined to kill those that need not die… The wolves claim to be brethren of our sheep, yet the teeth are sharpened and hidden behind a smile. It is us to ensure the pack is separated.” And with a wave of the hand, he allowed his commanders the freedom to do reconnaissance and attack plans as they deemed necessary.
Now three days later, the mercenaries had arrived at Bana, portraying to be allies… but as their commander spoke treatise, the encamped men bolstered their campfires and surrounded the fort, remaining unseen in the forest. But in the mist of early morn, figures, mere shadows, their bodies painted in graphic design of blue woad, quietly maneuvered thru the woods, as they had during centuries past, nary a sight nor sound, until they deemed it vital to their cause.
The chit chat would go on a while, asking after Arthur and Guinevere’s, health, not knowing of the demise of the royal marriage, or perhaps knowing well and just gauging Lancelot’s reaction… then speaking of the encampments of Saxons they had encountered in their travels south... when his head lifted at the sight coming toward him and he swore… "By the Gods... who is that creature?" At that all heads would swivel to the approaching female...
Headed toward the group of men gathered round an outside table was a vision… in purple silk... the gown seemed lighter than angels wings... and painted onto the woman who wore it. Had Lancelot already not seen her in it the night before, he might have been caught unaware it was Uriell. Her hair had been braided and coiled on her head, secured with the silver filigree combs, one long strand curled over her bared shoulder, like a lover’s caress, the silver collar necklace glinted at her throat, covering her horrible scars... leaving nothing to the eye, but flawless golden skin...
She walked with the small mincing steps of a Roman Lady, coming to stand at Lancelot’s side with a pretty pout of her full lips... "Milord you did not tell me we had guest..." she smiled beautifully then turned the smile to Lord Marc and his Man... she smiled brightly, almost afraid to burst out laughing at the stunned look on the other Knights’ faces as well as Lancelot’s... the dress hid little of her womanly virtues... and this was the first time any of them had seen her... dressed like anything other than the She Wolf Pict... now she appeared looking like some Roman ... princess??? She shot a look to Gawain, then winked… before turning back to their guest… "I am Lady Arista Kurikonas… Greetings..." by the gods, she had come up with an alias , and a back-story quickly, knowing the real Lady Arista, had died at her Villa along with her husband some five years ago… how.. Well Marcus had killed them for their gold... and torched their village... their bodies were never found...
Inside the fort, there was less activity than outside, but apparently with much more surprise. The woman Lancelot knew professionally as the She Wolf, and more personal as Uriell now arrived in the presence of men as the Lady Arista. None of the men gathered had any less look than shock, save Gareth, who had trailed the Lady “Arista” since inception.
Lancelot swallowed and looked at Marc, and could not help but smirk when he saw the lustful gaze. “Someone truly close to me M’Lord…” What else could he say…? Anything less would have the roman scum lusting after her… Better he cut Marc’s throat now than to watch him try to molest Uriell. And he moved to meet Uriell as she approached.
Gareth had seen the lady’s transformation and knew the reasoning… and now he stepped forward as her bodyguard. “M’Lord Lancelot, MiLady insisted she greet all friends…” And with that he cast a short glance to Uriell.
She almost sank into his side, yet without touching, her winsome face turning up to his as introduction, ~ someone truly close to me ~ giving him an adoring look worthy of a love sick roman woman saved from the Woad and Saxons... her hand lay lightly on Lancelot's chest, a sign of intimacy and fondness, "Sir Lancelot and his men are truly heroes... They save me from certain death... at the hands of Saxon Raiders... and have kept me safe ever since... even allowing me to become the Lady of Bana... in name only of course..." dark lashes fluttered enchantingly up at Lancelot, and then her icy blue gaze turned onto Lord Marc. "I shall go and prepare the dining hall for our guest." she smiled up at Lancelot as if looking for permission to arrange a meal and meeting place for their guest.
Inside she was glowing at Lancelot's odd reaction to her proximity, her smile was truly the remnants of what should have been a laugh of winning the cat and mouse game that raged between them… yet he had left their relationship open to interpretation where Lord Marc was concern, and this realization caused her brows to shift into a puzzled look for a brief moment before it was replaced by the beautiful banality of the Lady Arista.
Lord Marc's eyes appraised the… one close to Lancelot with unconcealed interest, of a male’s persuasion; she was beautiful in an exotic way, her body full and rounded in the right places, and her voice like dark raspy honey... unfortunately she lay her hands over Lancelot's chest in an all too familiar gesture.. for a brief moment he considered the luxuries of having her beneath him, and suddenly the idea of taking Bana from Lancelot seemed all the more necessary.
Nary a sight nor sound, Merlin’s men moved within the forests so stealthily, even the birds refused to take flight, nor the squirrels hesitated not their eating. So many times against Roman dogs, and even against Arthur’s Knights had the Woad maneuvered thru the forests in preparation of attack. And this day would be none the less skilled. Men, and women, armed with daggers, sword, and axe positioned themselves. Never out-numbered, never out-skilled they waited... waiting on word from the Shaman, their leader… Merlin.
Lancelot, fell right into character as the “Lady Arista” explained her reasoning here at Bana and, by action rather than word, hinted at their relationship. And as she excused herself, Lancelot smiled warmly at her. “Yes M’Lady, let us men discuss business…” and when he looked at Lord Marc, seeing the man’s expression, a knot rose in his throat… hate pounded at his heart. Thoughts eeked phrases… How easy it would be to kill this man who lusted after his woman… His woman? Singularly?
Lancelot smiled at his thought, his own revelation. He would have to speak to Uriell about this… But for now, he would have to push it to the back of his mind as Marc should be foremost. How would he deal with this Roman cur whilst his men camped circle the fortress?
Merlin looked thru the leather tube, and rotated the crystal at the end… The inside the fortress courtyard loomed nearer. At the first sign of trouble, the Shaman would signal his own men. Patiently, they waited.
She almost broke character when he commented to let "the men" discuss matters of business, but instead he received a sideways arched brow that let him know later he would pay for his cockiness. Then she flashed him a most demure smile, in order to be the Lady Arista that Lord Marc expected… "Of course Milord… what do women know of such things…?" the words left her lips so innocent and sweet, he might be struck at the difference between Arista, and Uriell… She bowed gently to the Lord then took her leave, the smirking Sir Gareth… trailing behind her, having been given the duty to keep an eye on the unconventional woman… As he caught up to her she confided she knew nothing of setting a dinner to rights... and that he would have to help her in this task... her fingers unconsciously twining in the looping curl over her shoulder, showing her unease... not only in the task but in Lord Marc's appearance in Bana.