13 Chapter 12

When he had returned to the tavern, and was listening to Galahad and Bors argue good-naturedly, Gawain pondered on the easiest way to achieve harmony in this inevitably bizarre situation. The simplest solution would be to integrate the girl with the knights; if they accepted her then no one around the fort would give her any trouble. He'd have to lead the way, since Tristan couldn't be relied upon to forge good relations with a block of wood. So how he'd managed to take in this tough girl and win her implicit trust was a mystery.

He'd spoken to the surgeon, who had told him that Tristan would be able to travel within a couple of days by cart. This meant that Gawain needed to think of a convincing ploy now and anticipate any dramas that may occur. Perhaps if they set Kation up as a sort of… domestic help? She certainly wasn't strong enough to handle their horses.

He ought to ask Tristan what sort of tasks he had envisioned for the girl tomorrow – perhaps they could concoct a plan together...

"Tristan – a word," Gawain said, pulling up a stool to sit by the scout's bed in the infirmary.

His comrade threw him a long-suffering look. "What do you want?" he murmured, throwing a quick glance in Kation's direction. His 'slave' was lying on her back on her cot, hands tucked behind her head as she stared into space – clearly bored out of her mind. Gawain couldn't blame her.

"What work did you have planned for Kation when we get back to the barracks?" he asked quietly, turning back to Tristan.

"Hmph… I was going to ask Arthur to take him on as a secretary. He can write after all, and I think he might be clever enough to be genuinely useful there."

"Jols is run off his feet at the moment, it's true…" Gawain nodded. "It could work. And it's safe."

Then the person in question sighed and rolled over, facing them with a hand tucked under her cheek.

"Master?" she said. Gawain wondered if she knew that voice was several kinds of sexy, even to someone who knew the truth.

"What now?" Tristan snapped, clearly immune to the ways of the flesh; as dead and bloodless as one of his homemade corpses.

Kation flinched back at the tone in his voice. "Nothing… sorry…" she turned away, facing the wall.

Gawain wondered what that had been all about, but wisely stayed out of it – for all he knew, Kation had been irritating Tristan for hours.

The next few days passed slowly, Galahad and Bors returned to report to Arthur, while Gawain stayed to organise dragging Tristan back to the barracks. As well as this herculean task, Gawain had to take Kation off to choose some clothes that actually fit her.

She had stared at the array in the shop for some time. Eventually, she had picked out a grey lightweight under-tunic and a close-fitting black tunic with full length sleeves and a high collar, which she cinched with a wide grey sash at her waist, emphasising her utterly flat chest and narrow hips. Her skinny legs were now clad in a pair of slightly too-long black leggings that she tucked into a pair of dark brown boots. Over all this, she wore a very loose grey woollen over-tunic that resembled nothing more than a short cloak that had been sewn closed with huge, loose sleeves cut into it. Gawain had tugged it over the girl's head, and was pleased by the way the high collar helped to obscure her delicate jawline somewhat.

"Why wear all that black?" he asked as he paid the man for the items.

"So that people will not notice me," she replied seriously. "Thank you for this," she added. Gawain shrugged.

"Your master will pay me back the moment he gets the chance."

"But these are very fine…" she said doubtfully. "You did say 'pick anything I liked' and I chose some expensive things…"

"No they're not – this is the sort of thing everyone wears. Besides, you are the only slave of a prestigious knight – you have to look the part." Gawain said cheerfully. In truth, she reminded him a little of Lancelot or Galahad – both of whom habitually wore dark clothes for no apparent reason. Gawain suspected it was to disguise stains. And black was a perfectly common colour, really. Granted, her style was outlandish, even to the Sarmatian, but Gawain assumed that her choices were based on her own land's traditions; besides, they weren't flamboyant enough to warrant undue attention – after all, there were many types at the Wall.

On the day of the big move, just as Gawain had seen Tristan settled (after the rather extraordinary sight of Tristan being helped onto a cart while good horses were standing by) Kation trotted round the corner of the infirmary building atop Sarakos and leading Gawain's grey, Irbis, by the reins. She'd tied her staff across her shoulders and her long black hair streamed in the breeze like a banner.

Gawain nodded to her and caught the reins that she tossed to him. "Right, let's go." He said, nodding to the soldier who had been charged with driving the cart. Once on the road, Gawain rode alongside Tristan, who was glaring at him.

"What's with that horrible look?" he said. "Don't tell me you're sour about being a passenger for once?"

"Shut up. If you're looking for entertainment then go tease my slave or the soldier." Tristan said, and looked away.

Gawain shrugged. "Suit yourself." He murmured, and trotted forward to join Kation.

"You're a natural," he said, admiring the easy, natural way she rode. "Done much horsemanship?"

The girl shrugged. "All my life."

"And can you sing?" The second most important feature in a good woman…

That question drew a sharp look of suspicion and a curt nod. "But I sound like a girl," she added in an undertone.

"Well perhaps you'll sing for me when we're alone." Gawain purred, leaning over the pommel of his saddle to grin at her. He was seriously tempted to see her exposed as a girl – it would just be too much fun to see what would happen.

"Hmm," she seemed to think about it. "Maybe sometime after you grow a brain." she replied haughtily.

Gawain chuckled; that was why it was more interesting to play this game. She was constantly surprising him. "And don't mind your master," Gawain advised. "If he's suffering he'll either demand we help or deny there's anything wrong."

But Kation frowned slightly. "It would be terribly inconvenient for me if he died before clearing up the mess he's landed me in." She threw him an annoyed look. "Have you heard he plans to keep me locked in his rooms? It's almost as if he doesn't want to get rid of me!"

Gawain shook his head, grinning. "If he thinks to keep a wildcat like you caged, then he's a bigger fool than I ever thought him to be," he turned in the saddle to look at Tristan. "Good luck with that!" he laughed.

~oOo~

The rest of the journey was uneventful, apart from Gawain singing several songs. Tristan wasn't one to normally praise others – especially people as annoying as Gawain – but he had to admit that his fellow knight was a fine singer. Kation seemed entranced by the songs, despite not understanding the words.

The teasing ended when Gawain realised that Tristan wouldn't rise to the bait, and the girl – now a huge blight in his life – occasionally threw glances at him, checking to make sure he was still alive, no doubt. Tristan wondered what she would have done if he hadn't sworn to protect her. In all likelihood she'd have disappeared at the fort. How he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut, given her some money and then abandoned her! Why had he been so stupid as to take her on as a slave? Why bother repaying the debt? The thought of spending the vast majority of his time with someone tracking his steps like a permanent shadow was terrible. The realisation that it would be that girl made his future seem very bleak indeed.

It would be like owning a very expensive and useless pet. She'd need more clothes, winter boots and a thick cloak and a thousand other things. And he'd have to arrange for a cot to be put in his rooms, since the idea of letting her lodge anywhere else was asking for even more trouble. There would be no more privacy, no more blissful quiet.

Gawain would have women to his room most nights, so the hope of sending her there so Tristan could get some peace was futile. Perhaps just sending her to the stables… she could sleep in Sarakos' stall and wouldn't bother anyone. Tristan rarely considered the women of the fort to be worth the effort it took to sweet talk them into inviting him back to their beds. To those knights who had yet to attach themselves to a single wench – unlike Bors or Bedwyr – it was pure sport. The thrill of the hunt. Tristan preferred less fraught games. Usually, he would do practical things in his spare time, such as re-fletching arrows.

But now that the girl was there to do such things for him, he would have nothing to do. Perhaps he would try helping Bedwyr… or build bows… or teach the girl how to defend herself. Tristan then remembered that he would have to question her later – when they were alone – and find out what skills she really did possess. If there was anything more to her than reading and writing then Tristan wanted to exploit it. She had already forged a strong bond with Sarakos, so perhaps her claims to good horsemanship weren't complete lies.

They finally arrived at the fort – to an absolute din of consternation at the sight of the girl astride Sarakos. Tristan felt a twinge of pride at the way the girl lifted her chin and stared steadily ahead, utterly composed despite all the cat-calling and shouts from the inhabitants. More than once he heard the words 'deliciae' and 'puer delicatus', shouted at her in tones of highest derision. Tristan looked about for his fellow Sarmatians. It was bad enough that Gawain knew about this… humiliating cart fiasco. But if someone like Lancelot or the twins saw this he wouldn't be able to terrify them ever again. Fortunately, they all seemed to be busy or were simply… elsewhere. Tristan shrank into the depths of the blanket Gawain had so thoughtfully tucked around his legs and hid, hoping no one would even notice he was there.

The soldier drove the cart all the way into the Sarmatian stable yard, above which was the knights' rooms. Tristan remained hidden, and peeped round the corner of the blanket to see who was about. Only Galahad had bothered to turn up, which was a relief: there was no way Galahad would ever be in a position to tease Tristan about anything. Gawain had leapt off Irbis and was now standing by Sarakos, helping Kation to the ground. His fingers seemed to nearly touch each other around her waist as he supported her weight.

Then she followed Galahad into the stables, leading the horses to their stalls. Galahad seemed his usual uptight, grumpy self, but had been glared at by Gawain to do it so…

Wait a moment, where was Gawain?

The blanket was torn off him in one flourishing movement.

Damn.

"Look what we have here! A little puppy hid in our luggage!" he cackled. Tristan hurled the waterskin at his head, but Gawain easily dodged it and helped Tristan out of the cart. "And straight up to bed!"

"I want to see Tagiytei first."

"Ugh… you and that horse…" Gawain groaned and shouted for Kation. She appeared a second later.

"Sir?"

"Give your master that stick."

"Of course, sir," she unslung the staff from her back and handed it Tristan. He took it with a nod of thanks, and with Gawain on one side and the staff on the other, he managed to limp over to his horse's stall. One of the stable boys, Amandus, was trying to put fresh water in the horse's pail but Tagiytei was doing a magnificent impression of a Bengal tiger that Tristan had once seen in Londinium. Head lowered, ears flat to his neck and teeth bared, the horse strained at the gate that held it captive and rolled his eyes at Amandus who looked about ready to dump the bucket over the horse's head.

Tristan whistled through his teeth, and Tagiytei immediately gave up tormenting the stable-hand. Ears pricked, the horse caught sight of Tristan and whickered excitedly. 'You! It's you! Hello!'

Tristan couldn't help the smile that broke out across his face – luckily those around him pretended not to notice. Tagiytei leaned so hard against the door that the wood creaked ominously. The horse transformed instantly from devil to excited colt, practically shaking as Tristan reached out a hand to the horse's nose.

"Hey," he whispered as Tagiytei drank in his master's scent, straining to get closer. "There's someone you need to meet," he said, and beckoned to Kation.

The girl limped forwards and he grabbed her wrist, dragging her close to his side – if Tagiytei decided that he didn't like her, he'd have to bite Tristan first. The girl stepped close to Tagiytei's nose, arms crossed over her chest. Tagiytei breathed on her for a few moments, and then nudged at her, curious.

That was a surprise.

"Ha! Only you, Tris, would manage to buy a slave who's also a shaman!" Gawain laughed from his safe distance by Amandus. Tristan threw an incredulous glance at Gawain, who just kept shaking his head. "I don't bloody know!" he laughed. "Only you…"

Amandus stepped forward and hastily poured the water into the pail before Tagiytei noticed his presence, then rushed off to complete his chores. But not after a long curious look at Kation, who was stroking Tagiytei's nose, engrossed in the bonding session.

"Okay, now that the touching reunion's over, let's get you to your room!" Gawain said, waving his hand in the direction of the stairs. They helped the scout to his room and put him to bed and Kation was then tasked with fetching him some lunch from the tavern.

"I'm heading there anyway, so I'll take him." Gawain offered. Tristan sighed, this could only end badly.

"Do not make a scene." He said, fixing both of them with a stern look, to which Kation returned an expression that clearly said 'Are you crazy?' and Gawain looked furtive, as if a plan had just been thwarted.