Finding My Destiny

Disclaimer-Once again. The characters from the movie King Arthur do not belong to me. Nor do the mythological characters. I have only borrowed them for a bit. Nor am I making any money from this story.



Finding my Destiny



Chapter 2-Talk of the Future





Our return to Hadrian’s Wall had brought us into the latter part of the afternoon. The valley had eventually given way to the softly rolling hills of the countryside and the cleared road that would take us back home. Pagan and I now rode beside the other knights as we made our way back. Earlier, I had found an extra wagon that had room enough for Horton, my young monk friend. Not soon enough if you had asked me. For the first hour, I listened as he continuously prayed for my pagan soul. His nasally voice had grated horribly on my nerves, and I had wondered to myself, why I was always too nice for my own good. If I was not in enough pain already. After finally telling him that if he did not quiet himself, I would leave him behind for the woads to find, he fell silent. My thoughts then wandered as I made my way to the others, quietly checking the makeshift bandage. I frowned when I saw the amount of blood covering the bandages. Perhaps the wound was a little deeper than I had thought.



Riding silently for a small bit, I listened as my friends talked of their future. I knew that it would tear me apart when they all left for their homes. For over fifteen years I had taken these men into my life. Caring for each as I did my own family. We had lived together. Fought together. Even our grief was shared together when another of us would fall. For fifteen years these seven men had become my family. And tonight, I would lose them all. I should not have been saddened by my thoughts. Instead, I should be happy that the last of these brave men would see their homes once again. I had always known that once our service to Rome had ended, we all would eventually part ways, our homes lying in the various lands of Sarmatia. But now that the day had finally come, I could not help but feel the wave of bitterness that washed over me. I had lost so much to this damned island. So much. My mind had been so consumed with my own thoughts that before I knew it, we had finally come to the crest of the hill that overlooked the great Wall and the fort below. Watching as a small contingent came to greet the wagon, we dropped back to the end of the caravan to ensure that all would be safely inside.



“I don't like him, that Roman.” Galahad began with a pout, “If he's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?” I could hear the slight whine that tinged his words. Cringing inwardly at the sound, I silently agreed that I did not like the rat either.



“Is this your happy face?” the question had been asked by Gawain. His teasing nature had come back after the battle. I watched as his blue eyes lit up with laughter, and sent him a small smile.



“Galahad, do you still not know the Romans?” I asked. I had turned to look at my younger friend, smiling as he looked over. “They won't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony.”



Loud laughter rang out among our group. The noise caused the Roman soldiers ahead to turn and look at us, scowls on their stony faces. I guess they had heard my words. Oh well. Shooting the Romans a cold glare, I watched as they quickly turned back to their task of escorting the bishop to the safety of the Wall. The sounds of light snickering brought my attention back to my friends. Raising an eyebrow at their amused glances, I shrugged my shoulders. “What?” I asked innocently.



“Alex.” Gawain said. “How do you do that?”



Smiling at the others, I shook my head. “If I told you.” I began. “I would have to kill you.”



“Why don't you just kill him, and then discharge yourself after?” Bors jokingly asked Galahad. I turned again to listen as the conversation returned to where it had originally started.



“I don't kill for pleasure, unlike some.” The tone of the younger man’s voice was derisive. Not liking the way he had answered the question, I glanced over at Galahad, noticing as his eyes shifted from me, over to Tristan and then back to Bors.



Tristan had looked over at Galahad. “Well, you should try it someday.

You might get a taste for it.” The older man smirked at Galahad, as a horrified look crossed the younger man’s face. It was hard sometimes, but I had to remind myself at how young Galahad was compared to the rest of us. The youngest of us all, he had been only nine when the caravan came to Sarmatia.



“It's a part of you. It's in your blood.” I said quietly. “It’s a part of all of us.” The tone of my voice had caught the attention of Galahad. “Even me.”



“No, no, no. No.” He was shaking his head in vehement denial, “As of tomorrow this was all just a bad memory.” My eyes had searched his. Seeing that even though he wanted to believe in those words he spoke, he already knew that these last fifteen years would be something he would never forget.



“I've often thought about what going home would mean after all this. What will I do?” The seriousness that had entered Gawains voice had caught my attention. “It's different for Galahad.” He continued. “I've been in this life longer than the other.”



I had to think about how right those words had been for so many of us. My twelfth year had just begun when the Roman caravan had come. The violent happenings of my life had sent me far from home on a journey that was not meant to be mine. For fifteen years, I had lived and fought on this island. So at my current age of twenty-nine, I had lived this life longer than the last.



“So much for home.” He continued. “It's not so clear in my memory.”



‘I wish I could say the same.’ I thought. The bitterness had begun to rise in me once again, as it always did when I thought of “home”



“You speak for yourself. It's cold back there and everyone I know is dead and buried.” Bors started. “Besides, I have, I think, a dozen children.



“Eleven.” I reminded quietly. Bors looked over and nodded his baldhead. The large smile on his face attesting that he loved each and every one of his little bastards.



“You listen. When the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of all this place.” He placed a large hand on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. Looking up at him, I gave him a fond smile as I squeezed his hand back. “I'll be governor in my own village and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser. Won't you, Dag?” I had to laugh at Bors presumption. There had been no answer from the larger man. Turning in my saddle, I glanced over. He had been looking around, and if it had not been for the small smile, I would have thought that he had not heard Bors comment.



“First thing I will do when I get home is find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed.” The sound of the voice was smug. It had made me happy that the usual joviality of Gawain was back. Smiling again, I thought about how much I would miss the leonine man. He was tall and broad-shouldered and had a handsome somewhat broad face. His blond hair was as curly as my own red locks. The blue eyes were slightly slanted, giving him a sleepy appearance that the wenches adored on him. He had always been the type of man who could make a tense situation better with a quick word and easy smile.



“A beautiful Sarmatian woman?” the question was asked with some increduality by Bors. “Why do you think we left in the first place?” If I had not been a woman, perhaps I would have laughed when he began mooing. In all actuality, I was always more amused than hurt by the comments of the men. The fact that the men never thought about what they said in front of me had never bothered me. It had always meant that the others were comfortable with me. After playing the part of knight for fifteen years, I knew that most times they forgot that I was female. Deciding that I wanted to have a bit of fun, I schooled my features to look as if my feelings had been hurt.



“I resent that.” The tone of my voice must have caught the attention of the men. I thought it hilarious how they all jumped at once to sooth my hurt feelings. It did not take me too long to start laughing, wincing at the discomfort it caused my wound. The disgruntled look on their faces sent me into another peel of laughter as I held my side. Smiling fondly at my friends, I let them know that I had just been joking, and listened to them as they resumed their conversation.



“What about you, Lancelot?” I was startled by Bors question. Not realizing that he had ridden up beside me, I turned to look at the curly haired man. His dark eyes captured mine momentarily before turning to look at Bors. “What are your plans for home?”



“Well, if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims,” he began, “I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house.” The sudden smirk that graced his handsome face caused my heart to beat furiously. I shifted Pagan slightly away from the other man, wanting the increased distance to help keep the feelings at bay. “His wife will welcome the company.” His comment brought forth another round of laughter from our little group. Even though I laughed along with the others, I could feel as my heart began to stutter.



“I see. And what will I be doing?” Gawain asked.



I noticed as Lancelot’s smile became even more devilish. “Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me.” Again I laughed at the joke, closing my eyes at the sound of the husky tone of his voice. I could feel how my body reacted to it. Hating myself for being so weak, I turned Pagan towards the rear of the caravan, finding that I needed the time alone to control the feelings that had surfaced.



“Is that before or after I hit you with my ax?” the comment was sent after Lancelot as he rode towards Arthur, bringing forth another round of laughter that even I had to join in.



“Alex?” Galahad had called my name. Turning Pagan towards the younger man, I waited to see what he wanted. “What about you?” he asked. “What will you be doing?”



I looked around at the curious faces of my friends. My thoughts for the future had not been something that I had ever shared with anyone. Then again, the future was something that I had never really considered. I had honestly never thought that I would live through these years of service. That if anyone of us was to have died in battle, that it would have been me. Not Gareth. Not Kaye. Me. And I honestly believe that if not for the promise I had made Kaye those few years ago, I might have just given up. Might have let myself be killed by my enemy. But now that the time had come, and the future that I should have planned for but never did, arrived, I was not so sure about what I was going to do.



“I do not know.” I said honestly, shrugging my shoulders. “I never made any plans.” Cocking my head to the side, I watched as confused looks crossed their handsome faces. “Is it that hard to believe?” I laughed loudly. “Can a person not live from day to day?”



“Yes. They can.” Bors said. “But you are a woman. All women plan. It is what you all do best.”



“Nice of you to notice.” I said with a raised eyebrow. A wry smile had crossed my face. “In all honesty, I had always thought that I would have died here.” In fact, I had hoped that I would. Not that I would tell the others this. But if I had fallen, I would not have such a bleak future ahead of me.



“But you have survived.” Gawain smiled as he said this. “Now you can return to your home and start a family.”



Shaking my head at the others I wondered how they could be so thick. “I will be twenty-nine in two months time Gawain. Do you understand what this means for someone like me?” The confusion on their faces made me roll my eyes. “What man wants an old bride?” Their faces were filled with horror as they finally realized what I meant. Nodding once, I gave them a soft smile. “Anyway. For fifteen years I have lived a life that was meant for a man. Can any of you honestly see me married with a family?” The false joviality that I had placed into my last comment seemed to relax the others. I urged Pagan to turn away from the others, taking my place once again at the back of the caravan.