Deliver Me
Deliver me, out of my sadness.
Deliver me, from all of the madness.
Deliver me, courage to guide me.
Deliver me, strength from inside me.
Chronology: Tristan is 21. Raja is 11.
The Egyptian girl sat crossed legged on a bail of hay in the stables,
waiting for Tristan to arrive so they could go to the cemetery to bury Linus
the Mouse. It was simply the little creature’s time to go. Normally, she would
have gone off by herself, the cemetery was the only place her uncle allowed her
to visit by herself that was further than the territory she was permitted to
pass by her lonesome. Despite that, Tristan had said he would go with her. All
of her brothers had become increasingly protective of her since she was
attacked by a Roman a month ago while she was in the woods. Raja put up a brave
front even though, at times, she was frightened to the core, images invading
her mind unbidden. She could still feel the man’s one calloused finger
penetrating her. The nightmares that had receded since being raped at the age
of six came back in full force. That was the way of it.
Odin nickered impatiently. He was already saddled and ready to go, as was
Dyne, Tristan’s mount. Raja had taken the liberty of preparing the gray horse
so when Tristan arrived they could depart immediately. At the gentle steps of
Tristan’s feet entering the stables, Raja stood up from her seat.
“About time,” she said. “I was getting ready to leave without you.”
Tristan grunted in response, mounting his horse as Raja followed suit.
They rode in silence through the forest, the wind was soft, the sky was
cloudless. The horses slowed a half mile away from the gravesite so that now
the rustling of leaves was audible.
Tristan took the moment to glance sideways at Raja through his mussed
tresses. She had lost weight; the sparkling luster was gone from her silver
eyes, turning her irises to a simple gray. He admired her for trying to be
strong, for she was strong, but he knew his friend was far more strained than
her face showed. More than likely, it was he who was tenser, along with the
other men. Tristan would never forget the way he had found Raja that day in the
woods – held down by that Roman piece of shit, his hand up her dress. Her face
had been a mask of bruises; her wrists were imprinted with the man’s tight
grasp. He remembered that his entire vision went red, and the satisfaction he felt
when his dagger had repeatedly gouged the man’s neck, chest, and face, until he
was unrecognizable. But the glee was short-lived when Raja began to call his
name, then he was holding her broken body in his arms as she wept
uncontrollably. And the cold rush that went through his body when she uttered
two words: not again.
Tristan had long suspected that she had suffered the abuse of some man
before she came to
Raja did not come out of her room for weeks, she was held down by her demons
that had resurrected themselves with the help of the Roman soldier. After a
week of little to no sleep, her uncle gave her a sleeping concoction that she
had adamantly refused to the point of physical combativeness. She was
frightened senseless at falling asleep, and it was only until her uncle
promised her that no one would leave her alone when she slept that she drank
the tonic, her pupils large and empty. Ardeth was true to his word, putting a
cot in her room so he could be right there with her. By a reluctant request,
for Tristan did not want to make Ardeth seem as if he were trying to usurp his
role as caretaker, he had asked if he could stay with Raja, sleeping on the cot
to watch over her.
When she was finally strong enough to emerge from her room, she was rarely
left alone, more by the men’s worry than her own fears. It was natural that all
Romans were now seen as a threat, the Sarmatian’s ire stirred by the attack on
their sister. Tristan, who had fewer social preoccupations than the other
knights, took to sticking to Raja like a shadow. Because of his constant
presence, he was around her most often when she floated in the past, retelling
him what had happened to her in
Despite her trauma, his respect and admiration for the little Egyptian grew,
and a part of his heart was even greater touched by how she had reached out to
him all those years ago, when by all rights and purposes, she probably should
have feared him. Yet, Raja had befriended him, and it wasn’t until then that he
had realized how lonely he was.
Tristan and Raja dismounted after they entered the cemetery through the wall
of brush and trees. There was a high erection of stone that was climbable that
acted as another wall. Small hills heightened the otherwise flat, green copse
of land. Some of the bigger animals had been buried on different hills where
the sun would shine as it made its travel across the sky. Many Egyptian symbols
were carved into the trees – this cemetery seemed a much more peaceful one than
the graves that held Tristan’s fallen comrades-in-arms.
Tristan dug a small hole with a hand-shovel that Raja had brought along in
her satchel. When that was completed, she took out a small, square box that
held Linus wrapped in an immaculate white cloth. She placed him in the hole,
and Tristan replaced the earth that rose in a small mound over Linus’s grave.
Raja said a prayer in Sarmatian - so that Tristan would understand – with
genuine compassion, as she always did for every farewell. It had amazed Tristan
the first time he had accompanied her to one of these funerals, and by then
there were already other animals buried here and there. She remembered each
animal’s name, and which grave belonged to which. Tristan could not even
remember the names of most of the men he had fought along side with, nor their
faces, for that matter.
Raja continued to bow her head in silence after her words, letting them sink
into the ground and find their way to the animal spirits. Tristan stood
silently as well, not wanting to interrupt her reverie. Not long after, she let
out a breath of air and looked up at him. The memory of him with the Roman’s
blood splattered over his face flashed in her mind for a second, and left as quickly
as it had come. She had seen him with the blood of war on his person before,
but had never seen him kill so savagely. It did not frighten her, nor did she
think less of him, but a question always niggled in the back of her mind.
“Thank you for coming with me, even though I know it wasn’t for Linus.” Raja
led them to an unhallowed area of ground so the two of them could sit
underneath a tall oak tree.
“Yeah, well, you can’t go out alone.”
“Yes, I can. You just don’t want me to.”
He shrugged, not denying her claim.
“You really don’t, Tristan.” Her words were said somberly, and the use of
his entire name had him raising his eyebrows, as she usually called him Trissy
when she would speak solemnly. “Don’t you tire of it?”
“Of what?”
“Protecting me all the time. Looking out for me.”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t want to be a burden to you, or the others. Isn’t it bad enough you
all must risk your lives out there,” – she gestured towards open land – “and
that the Romans give you all a hard enough time without having to constantly
worry about me? When you come home from arduous patrols, the last thing you
should need to do-”
“Need?” Tristan stressed the word with something akin to disdain. “Who says
I need to? You’ve never been a burden to me, or the others.”
Raja scoffed, and shook her head tiredly. “I know some of you leave your
rooms to sleep in the barracks because my screaming keeps you awake.”
Tristan couldn’t deny that. “That doesn’t mean we resent you for it.” He bit
his lip, wanting to word these next thoughts carefully. “I can’t speak for the
other men, but I do not protect you out of obligation, I do it because I care
about you. You do a lot for me, more than anyone has ever done for me in my
life, and if I can keep you from being hurt, then I will.”
“Even if it means killing another person?” Her eyes met his in a bald stare.
“Yes.”
“Did you enjoy killing him?”
He turned his head away from her as he inhaled, then he looked back. “I did.
And I would do it again.”
Raja pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I would
have killed him,” she said reverently.
Tristan reached out, grabbing her tiny wrist with his hand. She was shocked
at his sudden vehemence, which shattered the calm of the woods. He didn’t say
anything for a period of time, but then his hand moved to hold hers, so small,
so clean.
“I don’t want to see blood on your hands, Raja. If you want someone dead,
you come to me.”
“What about your hands, Trissy?” Through her wide eyes, Tristan saw himself.
Raja took his one hand in both of hers; running the pads of her fingers over
his calloused, rough skin. She kissed his knuckles softly, placing one palm
over the area she had kissed, as if to keep it from escaping.
Warmth spread through him at her loving intimation. “I’ll be fine, as long as you are.”
All of my
life I've been in hiding.
Wishing there was someone just like you.
Now that you're here, now that I've found you,
I know that you're the one to pull me through.
-Sarah
Brightman