Flying Without Wings

Everybody’s looking for that something

One thing that makes it all complete

You'll find it in strange places

Places you never knew it could be...

Chronology: Tristan is 20. Lancelot is 18. Raja is 10.

Tristan and Raja were curled up back to back in his bed. But he was awakened by a foot kicking him in the back of his thigh. She had been squirming all night, and that foot wasn’t the first nudge he had received. When Tristan and the rest of the knights had arrived at the fortress earlier that day, Raja had been napping, so she missed their arrival. By the time she woke up, it was passed sun down, and the men were at the tavern; where they usually stayed passed her bedtime. But a few hours after Tristan had settled in for the night, he wasn’t surprised to hear the pitter-patter of small feet shuffle across the floor, and a small body plop on his bed. Raja had still been tired, Tristan could tell, but she stayed up to talk to him; and in his own exhausted haze, he had listened. Raja was upset that there were chicken fights going on around the fortress; men betting on which caged chicken would win the pecking fight.

That had been going on for some time, and her Uncle Ardeth, Tristan and the rest of them had been trying to keep it from her. It had worked for a while, but it was only natural that she would discover the truth eventually. And it did not help that Beauty the Chicken had died in recent weeks. Another thing was that her Uncle Memnon, Ardeth’s older brother, was coming to Britain from Egypt within the next few days. Memnon’s last visit had not been the best of fun.

“Do you think that I growed enough so he’ll like me, Trissy?” she’d asked.

“Your height is fine.”

Tristan wasn’t altogether sure that Memnon disliked Raja; it was more that the older Egyptian had overly high standards. And if height was the issue, then he did not think Memnon would be pleased at the mere inch and a half Raja had acquired in the past year. And that inch and a half bumped her up to a resounding three feet and seven and a half inches. He couldn’t help but think she might have grown a bit taller if she hadn’t been ill and bed ridden for so many months, if she had not been injured by an arrow in her chest during the Woads’ raid. That had been a frightful time. They had all been holding their breaths, waiting for her to wake up. Tristan didn’t like to remember what Raja had looked like on that bale of hay in the stables, an arrow through her body, blood staining her tunic; he especially did not like to think about what would have happened if she had died.

Really, she was still recovering. Raja did not have as much stamina as she used to, and the merest chill made her lungs ache, and the coughing did not help. But she was cheerful and smiling more often than not.

Now, Tristan felt another soft kick. With his eyes still closed in stupored sleep, he grumbled, “Hey, wiggles.”

Raja muttered something.

He turned his head around, but she was still half-asleep.

“Toes,” he finally made out.

With sore muscles he sat up, flipped the blankets back, and indeed, one of her socks had slipped off. It was near the end of the bed, he grabbed it and gently put it back on her foot, straightening out the other sock that was threatening to slip off as well. He lied back down and pulled the blankets up to cover them both. Feeling the warmth of his body near her again, she sidled close, this time against his chest. She yawned and smacked her lips a little. Both comfortable, they fell asleep.

He was first to wake up the next morning. Raja was still curled into a slumbering ball. Muriel the Mouse crawled out from under his pillow and set itself down on Raja’s head. Tristan was debating whether to wake her or not when a knock sounded against the door. When he opened it, he was face to face with Ardeth who was looking as fresh as a spring morning; Tristan rarely, if ever, saw the Egyptian unkempt.

Ardeth greeted him good morning. “Still asleep?”

Tristan nodded; a half-grin on his face.

“I hope she did not keep you up, she has been a bit chatty lately.”

He shrugged one shoulder amiably, a nonverbal gesture that he knew Ardeth would understand, from one person to another who cared for Raja and accepted all her quirks, and different moods. He stepped back so Ardeth could enter, Raja mumbled something when her uncle stood next to the bed. Ardeth picked her up, cradling her in his arms, Muriel now on his shoulder.

“Bye, Trissy,” she said sleepily as they passed him.

The little Egyptian was awakening as Ardeth carried her to her room. Her eyes flickered opened and met his, and a sleepy smile spread on her face.

“Are you hungry, little one?” he asked.

“Hmm...I think so.”

Ardeth chuckled. “You think so? Well, what does your tummy tell you?” The door to her bedroom was already open; Ardeth set her down gently on her bed. She sat up against the pillows, Muriel cradled in her palms.

Raja’s stomach growled.

“I believe we have our answer then,” Ardeth said. “Now, why don’t you wash up, and I will bring you your porridge.”

“With extra cream and honey?” Raja asked hopefully. “And raisins?”

He smiled. “We shall see.” He kissed her on the forehead and quit the room.

“I have to make the bed Muriel,” she said. Raja set the mouse on the side table and straightened the sheets. She tucked the blankets just so, ironing out the wrinkles with her hands; she fluffed the pillows and situated the pillow cases. It was all nice and neat. Despite her upbringing, Raja was fully capable and not in the least ornery about picking up after herself. She made her own bed, folded her own clothes, put away her toys; taking meticulous care of her possessions.

Raja washed her face and got dressed; a dark blue pair of hose, a white tunic, and a light blue jerkin. She brushed out her long hair and tucked it behind her ears; her Uncle Ardeth would plait it for her when he came back. She folded her nightgown and laid it on the end of her bed.

By the time she was finished, Ardeth was bringing in a tray of food. To her delight, there was extra cream and honey along with raisins sprinkled in the porridge. She broke off some crumbs from the slice of bread and fed them to Muriel. She drank all of her tea and belched demurely, saying a polite excuse me after.

With her hair plaited and equipped with her satchel (containing her knitting, nei, a small drawstring bag of dried meat (provided by Tristan), and another small drawstring bag with bread crumbs) that was slung over her head and across her chest, Raja and Muriel followed Ardeth to the kitchen to return the tray and dishes. Afterwards, the little Egyptian girl made her way to the stables to say hello to Odin and Horus. The big black steed neighed when he saw her. He bent his head down and Raja gave him a big smacking kiss between his nostrils. Horus cawed and flew down from the rafters, perching himself on one of the stalls’ doors. Raja stepped up on her stool so she could pet Horus. He preened at her gentle ministrations, especially when she favored the area under his bill. Raja gave Horus a piece of dried meat, then tended to Odin who also preened at the gentle brush strokes over his coat of ebony.

Raja hummed melodically as she brushed out Odin’s mane and braided it.

“Don’t even think about making my horse’s mane next,” Lancelot said genially.

“Lottie!” Raja jumped off of her stool and walked quickly to her cousin, arms open.

He grumbled, dark eyes flitting around to see if anyone had heard what she called him. But he hugged his cousin in affectionate greeting and patted her on the head. Gone for a little over two weeks, Lancelot had thought about Raja’s health, hoping she was doing well. Seeing her now, he could tell that she was. Her eyes were clear, complexion bright, and she seemed in good spirits. Although, he wasn’t sure how long that would last sense her Uncle Memnon would be arriving in a few days.

“Uncle Ardeth put up a swing for me!” Raja exclaimed. “Come see.” She took his hand and practically dragged (as much as a ten year old could drag a grown man) him to the back door of the stables (Odin and Horus following) which led to the corral where some of the horses were grazing. There was a large tree within the white fences, and yes, now, the tree had a wooden plank suspended on both sides by ropes from a tree branch. “Have you ever swinged, Lancelot?”

Lancelot was still being pulled towards the tree when he answered. “Not on this kind. But back in Sarmatia we had a rope swing that we tied to a branch over a lake.” He quickly squashed the pang of that memory, of those care-free days that he would never get back again.

“Oooh,” Raja said. “That sounds fun! It’s like flying, isn’t it?”

He smirked and look down at his cousin. “Something like that, maybe.”

She nodded. “You want to swing? I’ll push you.”

At this, he chuckled, somewhat dryly. “I think my swinging days are over, cousin.”

Raja actually looked a bit disappointed. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Lancelot silently cursed himself for darkening her cheer, although it had not been intentional. “How about you swing, and I’ll push you?” Unconsciously, he took a glance around to see if anyone was watching; not wanting to hear any sniggers from the men. But as long as this swing was up, no doubt he would not be the only one to push Raja on the swing.

--------------------------------

From his study, he saw Lancelot and Raja out in the corral. Both of them had smiles on their faces as the elder cousin pushed the younger. Ardeth smiled to himself. Raja enjoyed the swing. The tree was a regular gathering ground for her and her animal friends, and he could keep an eye on her while he was in his study. The stable, the keep, it was all very centralized; he didn’t know why he had not thought of it before. She had had a swing back in Egypt in the opulent gardens of the manse. Raja’s father, Lancelot, often pushed her on the swing, as did Ardeth, and Raja’s mother, Aisha. Those were the days before their lives had been blighted by death and bloodshed. Before Raja lost her parents, before she had fallen into the hands of three barbarous, unholy men – and that was only after she had watched said men kill her mother. Even Ardeth had to shut his eyes tightly to suppress those painful memories. He had not been there, a fact that constantly weighed on him to this day. He couldn’t help but think Raja would not have been subjected to that had he been there. Perhaps there was nothing Ardeth could have done. Even Lancelot could not have prevented anything, husband and father.

Had it only been a little over three years ago? All that pain, so deep and fathomless. When he saw Raja laugh as she was now, it was difficult to believe that she had gone through what she had. Ardeth saw Raja say something, and Lancelot openly laughed. Yes, it was hard to believe that Raja was still battling her demons when she could make a hardened warrior such as her cousin laugh gaily and free.

Ardeth turned away from the window and sat down at his desk. He wondered what his brother’s impending arrival would bring this time. Surely, Memnon would try to convince Ardeth to return to Egypt. There were logical reasons – communication would be much easier for Ardeth as he would be right in front of the people he needed to speak to. And there were parts of him that did miss his homeland. The rich scents and spices, the warmth, the Nile. Even visiting his late wife’s, Inara’s, tomb. But there would come a time when he and Inara would be reunited, and Ardeth knew that she would want him to do best by Raja, even though she had died long before Raja had been born.

The Egyptian buried himself in his work, many missives to get through before the day was done.

--------------------------------

Raja stood close to her uncle in the courtyard the morning Uncle Memnon arrived. Like last time, he and his medjai rode into the fortress on their black steeds, looking threatening and intimidating. The inhabitants of the fortress stopped what they were doing to stare at the foreigners; dark men in black clothing, tattooed with odd symbols. A well-crafted and expensive looking carriage trailed behind the medjai, while three soldiers flanked the wheeled contraption.

“Who is that?” Raja asked.

Indeed, who was that? Ardeth did not recall Memnon mentioning that he was bringing guests. But he got an odd feeling in his stomach as the entourage came closer, his brother in the lead. The horses’ hooves kicked up dirt, eventually stopping a few feet away in expert formation. Memnon smiled at his brother and dismounted, the medjai doing the same. The Egyptian brothers embraced, and greeted each other in Arabic.

And Ardeth stopped mid-greeting when he saw the woman being helped out of the carriage. Irisi. And her two lady-escorts. The Egyptian woman gave Ardeth a dazzling smile, looking goddess-like in her finery.

Raja recognized the woman. She pursed her lips, displeased. She turned her head back to look at Tristan, and she saw the imperceptible shrug of his shoulders that indicated sympathy.

Introductions were made all around. Arthur welcomed them back to Britain and the fortress, and told them that their quarters were available. He had not been expecting the three women, so he made haste to order maids to prepare their rooms.

Dagonet instantly recognized Tameri, one of the Egyptian women who had come the previous year, but her counterpart, Halima, was not present. Tameri recognized Dagonet as well, for she smiled brightly at him, and he returned it. He had never forgotten her (or Halima) and the night the three of them had spent together. Lancelot was ogling the two of them, a gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes. He noticed one of the women giving Dagonet come-hither glances, he didn’t remember her name, but he recalled her face. Lancelot still could not believe that Dagonet had beguiled both of the Egyptian women to his beds last time. The dark knight set his sights on the other woman; her golden skin, ebony hair. Her clothes were of the finest materials, indicating a high standing in life.

“Ardeth,” Irisi’s musical voice hit him like a cooling breeze.

He could not help but smile and embrace her, accepting the kiss she gave him on his cheek.

“You remember my niece, Raja,” Ardeth said.

Irisi grinned at the little girl. “I certainly do. And it looks like you’ve grown!”

Raja wasn’t as happy to hear that as she might have been in the past. But she politely returned Irisi’s kind greeting, and that of her ladies.

“You have grown...a bit,” Memnon said.

Just then, Muriel took that time to crawl out from her tunic and settle on Raja’s shoulder. Memnon’s eyes flicked to the creature and the corner of his mouth twitched in something akin to displeasure.

“This is Muriel,” Raja said softly.

Ardeth preempted his older brother from making any disparaging remarks, as subtle as they might be. The knights greeted Memnon and the medjai, then the Egyptian women; Lancelot making it a point to give the new lady, Saira was her name, his best welcome. After all introductions and greetings were made, the Egyptian entourage were escorted to their rooms to refresh themselves. Ardeth shot his brother a look that plainly said that they would talk later about their surprise guests. He felt a tug on his tunic and met his niece’s eyes.

“You didn’t say she was coming,” Raja said.

“I was not aware Irisi was,” Ardeth replied. “But that does not mean we will treat her or her ladies inhospitably. Hmm?”

“Me and Muriel are hos-pit-able,” Raja enunciated the word carefully so her tongue wouldn’t trip over the word.

“I know you are, little one. Now, I am going to have a word with Uncle Memnon.”

Raja nodded complacently. She and Muriel went to the stables where Raja knew Tristan would be. The scout heard the soft footsteps of the little girl and turned his head halfway to look at her. The corners of her lips were turned down, and her brow was furrowed. He didn’t say anything, knowing she would speak when she wanted to, and continued to groom Dyne. Raja got her stool so she could tend to Odin. Stable boys were also present, either mucking out stalls or refreshing bundles of hay, or sweeping the haylofts.

“A lovely creature, she is,” Lancelot’s amused voice sounded.

“She is our guest, Lancelot,” Dagonet reminded him, walking passed the besotted knight in black leather.

Lancelot scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Dagonet. I know all about your triple-tryst with two Egyptian women.”

Dagonet stopped abruptly as he raised his brush to groom Ajax.

“Didn’t think I knew about that, eh?”

Dagonet flicked his eyes around the stable, seeing who else had heard. He gave the curly-haired knight a pointed glance, tipping his head ever so slightly in Raja’s direction. Lancelot’s words ended at the tip of his tongue, his own eyes meandering in his cousin’s direction, whom had taken no notice of them. No doubt, Tristan was aware of the topic of conversation though.

“Little cousin!” Lancelot said, and Raja turned in his direction. “What do you know of our new lady guests?”

“No one said she was going to be here!” Raja muttered, her tone causing Odin to shuffle.

“Yes, well,” he backtracked, perhaps his question wasn’t as tactful as he had thought. What in the world was his cousin upset about? Other than the fact that her Uncle Memnon had, once again, been less than cheery when greeting her. “We will have to make the best of it then.” I know I will, he silently added.

“They’re staying for more than a few days this time,” Raja said.

Dagonet was pleased to hear that, but didn’t let on to that. He wondered if Tameri remembered him as well as he did her. And where was Halima? He hoped she was well. Lancelot, too, beamed as he groomed Adonis.

“Saira...” he said to himself. “Lovely name. Saira. Isn’t it Tristan?” he joked.

Tristan gave him a droll stare.

“Did you see how she looked at me?” Lancelot went on. He sighed, continuing to groom Adonis, while thinking of Saira.

------------------------------------

“It was very last minute, Ardeth,” Memnon said. “I assure you.”

Ardeth arched a dubious brow at his elder brother.

“Truly!” he insisted, taking a sip of wine from the goblet. Memnon and Ardeth were in the latter’s quarters. It was early afternoon now, and everyone was washed and rested.

Ardeth had yet to have a conversation with Irisi, as she and her ladies were still recuperating from the long journey. Memnon had given his men leave for the afternoon. Now, he sat across from his brother, a goblet of wine also in hand. Memnon looked the same as the previous year; impeccably groomed, dark hair trimmed evenly to his shoulders, his black garb was raven-toned without a speck of dust or debris.

“Do you know why she came?” Ardeth asked.

Memnon shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose she just wanted to see you. But I could not very well deny her company without a good reason.”

Ardeth made a small sound of agreement.

They were silent for a time before Memnon spoke. “How is Raja?” Despite his rather aloof countenance towards his niece, he truly did care for her. It had pained him when Ardeth wrote to him of her setbacks, and he had nearly stopped breathing when he read the missive about her being attacked by a Woad during a raid – he, a veteran of war, who had witnessed countless injuries.

“Doing better,” Ardeth replied. “She still gets chest pains when the weather is damp, but her spirits have been good.”

Memnon nodded. “Would not a warmer climate be better for her?” The question was said in a most offhand manner.

To this he sighed. “I do not know how to take her away from here without upsetting her greatly. She would miss them terribly. And I know she would become sick over it.”

“Perhaps we could work something out,” Memnon suggested.

Ardeth gave a close-lipped smile. “Well, we have time enough to think about it. It is your first day here, a decision of such import need not be decided now.”

--------------------------------

Sometime later, the visiting Egyptian women commandeered Raja’s person for dress up before the evening’s dinner. It was extremely rare these days that Raja was in the presence of preening women who fussed over her clothes and hair. Thea and Vanora were the only female influences in her life now, and Raja loved them dearly. But unlike these Egyptian women, Thea and Vanora were not rich.

The little girl was initially suspicious of Irisi’s attentions. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen once she was in Irisi’s quarters with her two ladies. There were trunks open with expensive fabrics spilling out, and a small dress was laid out on the bed.

“I think these blues will go wonderful with your eyes, Raja,” Irisi said.

Raja then remembered the days when her and her walida would dress up in finery on special occasions. Or when Raja would sit in her mother’s room while she was dressed with ladies putting makeup on her beautiful face and setting her long, gorgeous hair. Raja did not dress up much these days, so she felt rather uncomfortable in the pretty garment that Irisi had bought for her.

“I do hope it fits,” Irisi said.

When Saira held up a mirror for her, Raja looked at herself in the expensive smock and was speechless.

Later, Ardeth knocked on the door and Irisi ushered him into the bedroom to look at his little niece.

“Oh, you look beautiful little one,” he said, and Raja blushed.

They all went down to dinner, where food was set out and the imported wines that the Egyptians had brought in caskets were being poured. They had also brought various spices that could not be found in Britain, and also white candles that could light up a room as well as daytime.

The knights were already seated at the round table. Memnon and Ardeth followed the women into the room, and Raja was holding Ardeth’s hand. There were oohs when they saw Raja dressed up like a little princess. The dress was appropriate for a girl her age, it fell to her ankles to reveal sandals with silver straps. She had small silver bangles on her wrists, and her hair was done up in silver clips and clasps.

“You look beautiful, Raja,” Dagonet said, and the others echoed his sentiments.

Raja, once again, blushed furiously and buried her head bashfully in her uncle’s thigh. Irisi sat to the left of Ardeth, and Raja between Ardeth and Memnon, Irisi’s ladies on the right of the elder Egyptian. Throughout the meal, Tameri and Dagonet constantly made eye contact with one another. Lancelot was discreetly admiring Saira. Raja noticed the closeness of Irisi and her uncle Ardeth, and didn’t like it one bit. She got that funny feeling, the same as last time Irisi came to visit, that her uncle was being sneakily tugged away from her. She arranged herself more comfortably on the cushion she was boosted up on.

Tristan noticed Raja’s eyes on her uncle, and he knew what the expression on her face meant as well. He sighed inwardly, knowing this visit was going to be eventful indeed.

Later that evening, Raja went to the stables to show Horus and Odin her new dress. Tristan was already there.

“Isn’t it almost your bed time?” he asked.

Raja nodded. “Uncle Ardeth said I could show Odin and Horus my dress.”

And, indeed, Odin was sniffing around Raja’s person, and Horus came down from the rafters landing near her.

“Irisi said she saw this dress and thought of me.”

Tristan arched his eyebrow, patted Dyne on his back, and put away the grooming implements. He himself wasn’t used to seeing Raja in such finery. She always wore casual clothes, but of the finer materials. She looked like the little noble she was born as, and stood out like a sore thumb amongst the ruggedness of the stables and the smells of hay, horse, and wood.

Raja scratched her head and looked at Tristan uncertainly, as if his opinion meant the world to her. “Do I really look pretty, Trissy?”

“You look pretty, Raja,” he replied sincerely.

And her eyes lit up as if she’d just been given the moon and the stars. Tristan was saved from his odd discomfort when Ardeth entered the stables.

“They liked my dress,” Raja said happily.

Ardeth smiled. “Why ever would they not, little one?” He held out his hand. “Come now, it is time for bed.”

The little girl said goodbye to Horus, Odin, and Tristan; and with her hand in her uncle’s she followed him out of the stables. Ardeth noticed two people up on the parapets as they made their way to the keep and smirked. Dagonet and Tameri. He turned his attention back to his niece who was telling him something funny Muriel the Mouse had done earlier that afternoon.

---------------------------------

Tameri and Dagonet stopped at the corner of the parapets, out of sight from the guards. Tameri took a deep breath, inhaling the slightly chilly air. Dagonet had offered her his cloak long ago, and she wrapped the large garment around her body even tighter. The two had walked mostly in silence, inquiring of one another’s health and of how good it was to see the other again.

After a time, Tameri finally said, “Halima sends her regards.”

Inside, Dagonet’s relief was palpable. “How is she?”

“Very well. She was married not too long ago, and is now carrying her first child.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“It is. But she wanted me to assure you that she remembers you fondly.” She looked at him, and no doubt they were both thinking of the night the three of them had spent together. “I, too, remember you fondly, Dagonet.”

He smiled at her. “And I.”

Her smile lit up the night. She stepped closer to him so she could put her hands on his broad chest, his body was warm beneath his clothes, and she could feel his strong muscles. Dagonet’s body responded, and he was standing close enough against her for her to know. He stroked her cheek, not normally so bold with women, but from the very beginning his heart had beat differently for Tameri. The Egyptian woman closed her eyes to his soft touch, tipping her head just so against his hand. She cupped his large hand, caressing the back of it with her thumb.

“Oh, Dagonet,” she whispered.

He looked at her lips, her full sensuous lips, and could not restrain himself from bending and softly touching his to hers. She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him closer, feeling his hardness against her belly, his hands running down the expanse of her back under his cloak. Their tongues met, exploring, and mating as they no doubt would do in an even more intimate way very soon.

Abruptly, she pulled away. “Oh sweet Isis, I did not even ask!”

He was slightly dazed from the sudden loss of connection. “Ask what?”

“Have you a lover? A wife?” Her hand was pressed flat against her bosom, just over her rapidly beating heart.

Dagonet laughed. “No, no.”

She sighed in abundant relief and let out a breath of sheepish laughter. Tameri could still feel his lips on hers, and she longed to resume their ardent passion. “Tonight, Dagonet?”

“Tonight.” And he kissed her again.

-----------------------------------

Ardeth closed Raja’s door behind him with a soft click. It took less time to settle her down for the night than he had thought it would. Surprisingly, she had had no questions about Irisi and her presence, or any inquiries as to why Irisi had given her a dress. Perhaps, it was just that his little niece was just too tired; it had been a long day. The Egyptian debated whether he should go to his own quarters or to Irisi’s which was in the opposite direction from his.

She had been no less affectionate with him, although she had been discreet in Raja’s company at dinner. Even he did not know why she had come to Britain. To inform him of something? Was she to be married, or was she already so? The thought filled him with no jealousy.

He decided to bid his brother goodnight, and after he had done so, he found his feet to be moving to Irisi’s room. He knocked softly, for she might have already been abed, but she answered the door, her eyes saying that she had been waiting for him. He knew she was wearing one of her sheer nightgowns under her silk robe.

“I wanted to bid you a good night,” he said.

Irisi smiled her succubus smile. She reached out to take his hand, pulling him inside her room. It had always been this way with them. First meetings sounded few words, only unbridled lust for one another’s bodies. He latched the door behind them and fell into her without hesitation. Her hands ran all over him, through his shoulder length hair and further down his body to that aching shaft below his waist. She whispered his name, once, twice, before they fell together on her bed in a tangle of limbs.

------------------------------------

The next day took them all to the training grounds. The four medjai, Amun, Omari, Tor and Khai accompanied them, but were not joining in. They were glad to be off of their horses, readily stretching their legs. Their mounts also needed a good rest. The three women were seated in the shade with a good view of the landscape. Raja rode out on Odin with the knights and their steeds. She looked miniature on the large body that was her friend. But she was a very well trained rider and she and Odin had an innate affinity for one another. While the knights practiced their drills, Raja and Odin plodded around in the distance.

Irisi joined Ardeth and Memnon, casually taking Ardeth’s elbow. “Is it safe for her to be riding an animal so large?” she asked. Her brightly colored dress whispered with the breeze, her natural aroma filled Ardeth’s nostrils, reminding him of things they had done the previous night...and this morning - twice.

“I would not let her if it was not,” Ardeth replied.

Memnon was watching his niece with a half-grin on his face. She always had impressed him with her quick learning of an animal’s behavior. Raja’s natural communication with Odin made it seem as if they were extensions of one another. One would think she had been riding for years. Naturally, because of her size, her saddle and stirrups had had to be custom made not only for Odin, but for her.

Odin went from walking to trotting and Raja smiled, her giggle traveling on the wisps of wind. Horus and Penelo flew overhead and Odin reared up on his hind legs.

Irisi gasped, thinking that Raja would surely fall off.

But the little Egyptian staid expertly. When Odin planted all fours back on the ground, Raja waved to the two winged creatures up in the air.

Memnon chuckled, seeing Raja’s finger tap Odin for a change of pace. “She still will not use her spurs.”

Ardeth echoed his brother’s amusement. He added for Irisi, “When she first began to learn how to ride, she could not bring herself to use her spurs to dig in to the horse. So she uses clicking noises and finger taps.”

“We’re going to jump!” Raja called over to them.

Ardeth gave her permission with a nod, and Raja urged Odin forward towards the jumping poles. She situated herself, more than confident in Odin’s ability. She clicked her tongue to let Odin know she was ready and he began to move forward. They cleared the first hurdle like a knife through butter, then the second, which was higher than the first.

“Has she been able to successfully cross over all of them?” Memnon asked.

Ardeth did not answer, and let him discover for himself. Raja and Odin flew over the last one, landing on the ground, triumphant. Odin’s muscles moved beneath his black coat like molten thunder. Raja had a wide smile on her face and she was patting Odin on his withers affectionately. They walked over to her uncles, coming to a stop.

“Very good, little one,” Ardeth said.

“That was wonderful, Raja,” Irisi told her sincerely.

She was slightly out of breath, so the tinge of rouge on her cheeks could have been from flattery or exertion. Memnon approached Odin, and the animal glared at the man in an almost defiant manner, but showed no fear. Raja petted Odin in comfort.

“A wonderful creature,” Memnon finally said.

“He is,” Raja said with a nod.

“Not a war horse though,” he commented, seeing the flawlessness of Odin’s coat. The horse snorted and whipped his head to the side, his gorgeous mane rippling haughtily, out of Memnon’s reach in defiance.

“Odin is very brave!” Raja stuttered indignantly, the loudest she had ever spoken to her uncle. “And noble,” she continued, “true, too!”

Memnon smiled at his niece, glad to see her showing some passion.

“See, here.” Raja pointed to his upper shoulder. “He has a scar. We were riding too close to the bushes and a branch scratched him. He bleeded-”

“Bled,” Memnon corrected.

Raja nodded. “Yes, bled. But Jols healed him.”

Memnon made a show of peering closely at said scar. “Ah, yes, I see it.”

“Very brave,” Raja said to Odin softly. “You hurt his feelings, Uncle Memnon.”

The elder Egyptian was taken aback at her statement, and he hid the twitch of wry amusement on his lips.

“Perhaps an apology is in order, brother,” Ardeth said, goading him.

He hmmphed in response. Now it was getting a bit ridiculous. As if a horse could have hurt feelings in an emotional sense. Ardeth could see that his brother would not consent to any such thing, so he changed the subject, Raja’s sharp cough catching his attention.

“I think that is enough for today, little one,” Ardeth said. It had been almost an hour and a half.

“Oh, no!” Raja protested. “Me and Odin wanted to do archery.”

He almost relented, but she coughed again, and he did not want her to exacerbate her lungs. Raja frowned but did not try to argue. They walked over to where the medjai, Tameri, and Saira were sitting. Ardeth helped Raja down, and she went and sat in the shade with the ladies while Odin grazed. The knights were still doing drills.

“And where were you this morning, my friend?” Saira asked.

Tameri pursed her lips and her eyes flicked towards Saira and back to Dagonet. “You know. You are just trying to get details.”

Saira laughed softly, careful to keep her voice down because Raja had just come to sit near them. She let it go, already knowing that Tameri and Dagonet were involved in a love affair. The same went for Irisi and Ardeth. Irisi had long been in love with the man, and still held hopes that he would return to Egypt. From the little she saw, for this was only her second day in Britain, it was quite obvious that Raja was Ardeth’s main concern, just as Irisi had once told her. It was also clear that Ardeth cared for her in turn, but it was not all-consuming.

She turned her attention back to these foreign knights. They were rather handsome. She had taken to them during dinner last night, seeing that they were likable fellows who had been dealt the bad fate to be born as they were, Sarmatian, and taken from their homes to serve Rome. She could not imagine ever being forced to leave her beloved Egypt. And especially not to this rather dreary island. It was spring and the evenings held a chill! But the day was blue and mild right now, and she was rather enjoying it. Saira watched the knight with tattoos and braids, for he vaguely reminded her of the medjai with their own stoicism and bodily markings. She had not seen him...Tristan, she recalled his name, smile, not once. His hair was mussed, and his bangs fell haphazardly over his eyes, - he looked like a wild vagabond - although it did little to obscure his vision for his aim was dead-on, and it was apparent he was the best archer of them all.

Then there was Raja’s cousin, with his dark good looks and devil-may-care smile and curly hair. She had seen the way he had looked at her, undressing her with his enigmatic eyes that held promises of erotic nighttime activities. A whistle blew and the knights halted, their training day ended.

Tameri stood, eyes meeting Dagonet’s. He wore a sleeveless white shirt that showed off his muscular arms that were slick with perspiration. She walked to him and handed him a flagon of cool water.

“Did you enjoy the view?” Lancelot asked Saira, his husky voice sounding near her ear.

She let the shiver dissipate from her spine before facing him. “You and your fellow knights are well practiced,” she replied.

Lancelot chuckled with a half-cocked smile. “We are well-practiced in a lot of things,” he said with a subtle suggestion. “On and off the battlefield.” And he so enjoyed the knowing smirk she gave him.

The party began making their way back to the fortress. Raja was chatting with Tristan all the way, and Saira glimpsed him smiling from something the little girl had said. That surprised her.

“Yes, our scout isn’t as cold-hearted as he appears to be,” Lancelot said, noticing her eyes on Tristan. Gods, she wasn’t interested in Tristan was she? Of all the injustices in the world...

“I think it’s very sweet,” Saira said. “The two of you share similarities.”

“Do we? What might those be?” He immediately puffed for forthcoming compliments.

“Well, you are both very cute.”

“Cute?” Lancelot rejoined. “Perhaps you mean to say...devastatingly handsome...”

Saira laughed. “Well, Raja is a beauty, but I do not think most would use ‘devastatingly handsome’ to describe her.”

They passed through the South gate and the horses were led to the stables.

“I would love to have the pleasure of your company, but I must wash,” Lancelot said. “Perhaps later we can have a drink.”

Saira gave him a closed lipped smile and contemplated his suggestion. “We’ll see how the rest of the day goes,” she finally answered, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he would not obtain her that easily.

----------------------------------------

Needless to say Lancelot did not get Saira into his clutches. He realized he was going to have to work a bit harder than he usually did with the other women around the fortress. But he was determined to have her before she left for Egypt. A few days later he offered to take Saira for walk and she agreed. He was out in the courtyard before her so he waited patiently. But a commotion not too far away caught his attention. The little form of his cousin walking in the direction where he knew there was another chicken sale taking place. Daniel, an old man, bred chickens for the chicken fighting craze, and would usually auction them off.

“Damn it all,” he cursed under his breath. To intercept his cousin or continue to wait for Saira? With an impatient growl, he hurried over to his cousin who was getting closer to the crowd.

Raja got lost in the horde of people, oblivious to the fact that her cousin had spotted her. But she had noticed a beautiful chicken in a cage who reminded her of Beauty. She was so small that she went unnoticed by the crowd as she made her way to the chicken. It was behind the man who was shouting out prices. Raja stood near the cage that was on a table.

“That’s bloody robbery!” someone shouted.

“Take it or leave it!” Daniel spat back.

Ignoring the ruckus, she said, “Hello.”

The chicken tipped its head.

“I’m Raja. What’s your name?” Her finger poked through the cage to pet the animal on its head. “You are very beautiful.”

Lancelot finally spotted her, talking to the chicken! This was not good. She would get attached and wonder why all the feathered beasts were in cages, and she would get upset, and he did hate to see her cry.

“Hey, hey!” Daniel shouted. “Get away from there!” His chubby face was mottled red as he sauntered over to the girl petting his prized chicken.

Raja’s eyes met the big man’s but she didn’t move. He wore brown breeches and tunic, he was bald, and he had craggy skin from childhood acne.

“I know all about you, girl!” the man said. Indeed, he did. He and others always saw her walking around with a coterie of various animals. It was damned queer the way they followed her around. Yet, she was nice enough, never a harsh word for anyone. “Get away! Shoo! Shoo!”

“Watch how you talk to my cousin, Daniel,” Lancelot said.

Daniel pursed his lips and reined in his temper, not wanting to piss off the dark knight. “Just get her away from my chicken.”

“Can I take her with me?” Raja asked.

Lancelot took her hand, ready to steer her away from an impending confrontation.

“Bloody hell, no!” Daniel cried.

Lance nudged Raja behind him so he could give Daniel the fierce sneer that was pulling on his face. “Do not yell at her.” His dark eyes flashed.

“Get her away from the chicken, Lance. I mean to make good money off of her.”

Raja wasn’t really paying attention to them, she was still too enamored with the chicken who was staring at her with pleading eyes to free her from her jail.

“Come on,” Lancelot said.

“But-”

He scooped her up in his arms before she could protest further. With one last venomous glare at Daniel he walked away. Raja kept her eyes on the chicken the whole time.

“Lucille is sad, Lottie.”

He silently groaned. She had a name for it. That was not good.

“She doesn’t want to be in there.”

He didn’t answer, simply patted her on the back, and continued to carry her away. Reaching the courtyard again, Saira was there waiting for him. He was mildly embarrassed to be caught soothing his cousin, but his instincts refused to let her go. Lancelot smiled at her and she returned the endearment.

“Hello, Raja,” she said.

Raja had a frown on her face, but she managed a grin. “Hello, Saira. How are you today?”

“I’m doing just fine. How are you?” She looked back and forth between the cousins.

Raja sighed like a put upon individual. “Lucille is trapped. But I can’t take her with me.”

“Lucille?”

“Lucille the Chicken,” Raja told her. “Over there.” And she pointed towards the crowd.

“Oh.” She glanced at Lancelot, who shrugged.

“Lancelot took me away from that mean man.”

“I’m sure it was for a very good reason, Raja,” Saira assured her.

The little girl nodded. “Lancelot does take good care of me.” She rested her head on his shoulder in silence. And Lancelot realized his cousin had no intention of letting him go.

“Lancelot and I were going for a walk, would you like to join us, Raja?”

“Oh...” She lifted her head from his shoulder. “It’s my resting time though.” And Lancelot set her down. “Uncle Ardeth and I drink tea and I have to nap. Or sometimes Tristan and me play Chess. There he is!” Raja saw Tristan coming from the direction of the stables. The scout saw them and walked over, noting the disconsolate expression on Lancelot’s face.

“Hello, Tristan,” Saira said with a soft smile.

Tristan nodded, and said to Raja, “You haven’t drunk your tea.”

Raja scuffed her foot. “I was just about to. But Lucille...” She stared back sadly in the chicken’s direction.

Tristan arched an eyebrow at Lancelot. “Come on,” Tristan said to Raja.

The little Egyptian sighed and took Tristan’s hand. “Lancelot will take good care of you,” she said to Saira and smiled up at her cousin with adoration. They said their goodbyes and watched in quiet as Raja and Tristan made their way into the keep.

Saira caught the worried expression on his face, but when he turned back to her it was instantly covered with one of his amiable masks.

“Shall we?” Lancelot offered his arm to her and she received it graciously. They left the gates of the fortress and he and she walked leisurely in a nearby forest.

“That was especially lovely of you to see to your cousin,” she said. “She cares a great deal about you.”

He smirked.

“No need to be bashful, Lancelot!” She laughed. “You care deeply for her, hmm?”

He nodded.

“I think that’s wonderful,” she mused. “When a man can openly show affection such as you did today.”

Then Lancelot realized he had accrued favor with her. She saw him caring for Raja and her good opinion of him went up a few notches. Wasn’t that just a kick? It was always Raja that unintentionally got him into the good graces of most women who tried to spurn his advances. He should have thought of that sooner.

“How do you like Britain, my lady?” he asked, turning away from the topic of his cousin, and the delving into his feelings for her, because he did love her greatly, but that was for him to know. He didn’t want anyone else to know the extent of his feelings, for what if Raja was to leave? The idea of a separation made his stomach turn sour and heart ache. She was the one innocent thing in his life and he cherished it above all else. If no one else knew how much he loved her, maybe it would hurt less if she were to leave.

Saira contemplated her answer. “It is very green.”

Lancelot chuckled ruefully. Saira stopped to pick up a dandelion that had turned white with the fragile seed heads.

“You make a wish on these,” Saira said.

“I’m not much for wishing.”

“All right. I shall make one for you.” And her lips puckered sensuously, and she blew, the white speckles flying away on the wind, carrying the secret of her wish.

“What did you wish?” he asked.

“If I tell you it won’t come true!” And she giggled, finding herself standing very close to him. So close she could feel his breath. When he bent down to touch her lips, she did not back away. Saira accepted his kiss, the hairs of his well coiffed beard tickling her nose.

When they parted Lancelot could still feel her soft lips on his mouth. “Should we return to the fortress?”

“Hmm,” she deliberated, looking up at the sky. “It is early yet. Let us walk some more. But later Lancelot. Later.”

INDEX NEXT