12 Chapter 11

We entered the tavern and Gawain jerked his chin in greeting at Galahad and Bors who were sitting at a table near the back. I was set down next to Bors who raised his eyebrows at me.

"Tristan begged me to drag him away – we were annoying him," Gawain explained, then disappeared to fetch drinks. I pulled 'Kation' around me like a cloak, and hunched my shoulders as if in defensiveness.

"Please don't mind me," I murmured as gruffly as I could. Galahad snorted derisively into his ale flagon and glared at me briefly before looking away, determinedly aloof. Tristan had given me enough warning about each of these knights to predict their general behaviour. I turned to Bors, all shyness, and not faked in the least.

"I'm sorry, I can leave again…" I murmured, not having a clue where I'd go, but determined to not end up staying in the tavern causing an awkward silence – I'd be stuck with these men for quite some time… Bors didn't believe in such a thing, however, and shook his head.

"Nah, I have more questions for you," he said. I resisted the urge to sigh mightily. But surprisingly, Galahad spoke up first.

"Where are you from?"

"Overseas," I hedged. "I'm still new to this land,"

"Hmm… not a Saxon, are you?" Bors said. I got the feeling there was a joke in there somewhere, but I shook my head seriously. Gawain re-joined us, pushed a cup of water at me and sat down next to Galahad. I smiled at him and he winked back.

I turned to Bors to answer his question: "No, I came from beyond the Empire, the slaver in my land sold me to a Greek, who took me first to Ionia, and then across the sea to the Peloponnese."

"So what was your Greek master like?" Gawain asked. "Did he beat you? Have his way with you?" I fought the urge to kick him under the table – one foot was already busted and I didn't feel like walking back to the infirmary.

"No, he had in mind to raise me to be his secretary – he had this idea that the younger one started training a child, the more skilled they would become,"

"How old were you when he bought you?" Bors asked. "You don't look very old to me,"

"I don't know exactly, but I'm older than I look," I said mildly, taking a sip of my water. It tasted slightly chalky but not unpleasant. "I learned to read and write very quickly, but my master, had more difficulty wrapping my mind around things like philosophy and knife fighting."

All the knights looked surprised at this. "Knife fighting?" Galahad exclaimed incredulously. I shrugged.

"My master wanted me to defend him, I proved utterly terrible at it though," I said, hanging my head. It was a lie – but not in the way that you think. I had done more than merely snark and scowl in Narnia. I'd learned things. Dangerous, violent things.

"I can see why," Bors held up one of my arms for the others' inspection. "This boy's got arms like sticks!" he laughed and slapped me hard on the back. Oof. "Well, I'm not sure what use you'll be to Tristan if you can't even use a knife," he went on. "Our scout doesn't really go for reading or poetry."

"Just killing," Galahad added sourly. I got the distinct feeling Galahad didn't really tolerate things that upset him.

I shrugged. "Whatever he tasks me with, I shall accomplish," I said. It wasn't a boast, more like a declaration of suicide. The others seemed to see it the same way too, and Gawain's eyes were even tinged with the beginnings of compassion.

"So what are you good at?" Galahad challenged.

I sighed, "Alas, I'm not very clever. But I can do mathematics and I'm good with animals," I said. They were the only things I thought would help me get by in the fort unnoticed – singing was out for obvious reasons, as was my encyclopaedic knowledge of Lord of the Rings.

"Well that doesn't sound like any slave I've ever heard of," Galahad said sarcastically. "Such a short supply of stable boys at the moment…" he glared at Bors, even though his anger clearly wasn't directed at the scarred man. "Tristan could ask him to look after that monster horse of his, I suppose – no one else can get near it."

"I don't think we want Kation dead within minutes of our arrival at the fort," Gawain remarked mildly. "If he's educated, then perhaps he could be hired out as a secretary for Arthur – Jols is run off his feet as it is."

Bors grunted his agreement. "Maybe do some chores for my Van' as well."

I presumed he was talking about his wife, so I shrugged in a non-committal sort of way.

"I will do as my master orders," I said softly. Everything had to be controlled and low-pitched. I couldn't show fear – I couldn't afford to be afraid of anything.

Seemingly satisfied with this answer, the knights returned to talking about patrols and Woad movements. I listened to this intently, but with a vague expression, as if I didn't understand. I was determined to be underestimated – it was sort of like being at school: you kept your head down and didn't draw attention to yourself around the teachers. Manumission was a long way off, but I had to start laying the foundations now. Another useful trick picked up in school was guarding whatever liberties granted to you, and not to be caught abusing them.

That, above all, was my goal: to not be caught. I had to be more cunning and devious than Machiavelli. But considering that I'd fooled two out of three of Tristan's colleagues, I thought I was doing pretty well.

It was starting to get dark when Gawain stood and stretched. "Time to get you back to your master," he said to me. I stood, keeping all my weight on my uninjured foot.

"I must take him some food," I murmured.

"Don't worry boy, they're not going to let a knight starve," Bors rumbled. "Ah, I'm for bed," he stood and stretched with a grunt before lumbering off. I wanted to get back to Tristan – there was some comfort in being near the one person qualified to insure my survival.

Gawain swept me up into his arms once more. "I'll be back shortly," he told Galahad, and strode back to the infirmary. Once we were out of earshot, he said in a whisper: "Become useful to the knights, they'll protect you."

"Useful how?" I asked – I wasn't going to be screwing anyone.

"Chores, favours, fetching and carrying – just show willing. After all, Tristan's often away from the fort, so you'll need people who'll watch your back. And I can't always be there." Gawain explained.

Had he appointed himself my guardian? How tiresome.

Once back in the infirmary, I was dropped onto my cot.

"The boy hasn't eaten," Gawain said to Tristan, who nodded but otherwise didn't acknowledge his comrade. He seemed to be trying to sleep.

Hang on, I hadn't been offered anything! Thrice cursed bastards…

I frowned slightly but said nothing. Slaves had to deal with whatever was thrown at them – not complain like fussy students from the 21st Century. I was no longer that person… but another who had already gone through a lot of shit in Narnia. Who had fought and struggled, survived and killed.

After Gawain left, Tristan turned to look at me.

"What happened?" he asked.

I shrugged. "They talked, I listened."

Tristan sighed. "When we get back to the barracks, I want you to stay away from everyone."

"But Gawain said I ought to be useful to the knights – that they'd protect me."

"You won't need their protection; no one will dare approach you." He grunted. How very arrogant of him – did he think that would be the case because of his reputation, or would I be literally tied to him at all times?

"But if you're away…" I started to argue, but Tristan interrupted.

"Then you'll stay in my room."

Great, a veritable prisoner… "Oh come on—"

"I'm not going to argue about this – I will leave you tied up in a sack if needs be."

He probably would, too. I'd find a way around this later, so I stopped arguing and we fell into a sullen silence, punctuated only when I finally curled into a ball to sleep, facing away from that arrogant, smug sod.