Have a Little Faith in Me
So have a little faith in me
Put a little trust in me
Every little thing will be alright
Every little thing will be just fine
Have a little faith in me
And I will hold you in my arms tonight
-A*Teens
Chronology: Tristan is 18. Raja is 8.
Raja sighed heavily. She was bored, she needed something to
do. Her brothers had been gone for two weeks; her only pastimes were sitting
with her uncle and helping Jols in the stables. She didn’t understand how the
men could be out there in the heavy snow anyway. She felt like she was sinking
in quicksand every time she took a step in it. Once she had gotten her strength
back after her set back last November when Antonia and her children had
arrived, her uncle took her out for her first day in the snow. Raja remembered
her father telling her about the winters on the island, and it always sounded
beautiful to her...but now she wasn’t so sure. It was only the second week of
December, and the little Egyptian girl had been in
Raja walked into the weaponry and armory room. It was one of the attachments to the stables, so the horses and the battle equipment were near each other. The room was large; weapons mounted the walls and some tables. Raja had to shake her head in mock derision every time she saw the men’s armor. Gods, it was ridiculous. Did they actually fight in those things? No wonder they were undefeated in battle, they probably rendered their enemies helpless with laughter seeing the knights’ in such hilarious getup. Didn’t Arthur realize that not only did he have a broom on his helmet, but a horse’s tail? Hardly formidable. Raja had joked that Lancelot’s helmet had a horse’s ass on it, and Tristan’s helmet looked like a pimple coming out of his head. Nevertheless, Raja got some rags and cleaner to shine their armor.
About an hour later, after a most thorough cleaning, Raja left the armory passing through the stables to go clean up for dinner, but she stopped when she heard sounds of quiet, muffled distress from one of the stables. She perked her ear, making sure that she wasn’t just imagining things, when the sound became more distinct; she walked lightly towards the stable door, slowly opening it. A woman sat huddled in the corner, shabby cloak wrapped around her, knees drawn up, head down, sobbing quietly. She must have realized she was not alone because she abruptly ceased her sounds of grief, snapping her head up to see who was with her. Raja saw the woman’s puffy, blood-shot eyes, she had a light bruise on her cheek, her hair was in disarray, and a small cut on her lip. Raja felt the waves of anguish permeating from the lady, and her heart went out to her.
The woman stumbled to her feet, wiping her face, wincing as she did so. The cloak had fallen away from her arms, revealing the bruises on her wrists, upper arms, and a few small ones near her collar bone. That was when Raja knew what had happened to the woman. She just knew.
“I apologize,” the woman said, gaining her wits, “it was just warm and quiet in here...”
“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Raja assured her gently. She didn’t want to scare this woman away. Little by little, Raja was taking more of the woman’s appearance in. Not only was her cloak shabby and dirty, but her dress was torn as well. Raja surmised that not only was this lady in a bad place, but she didn’t have much money. She was probably one of many who came to the fort looking for work. “I’m Raja.”
The woman’s eyes shot up, surprised that this little girl wasn’t running off telling somebody that she found a fallen woman in the stables – the stables where the knights kept their horses, no less.
“What’s your name?” the little Egyptian girl prompted, smiling amiably.
“Tempest,” she replied.
“That’s a really pretty name,” Raja said. “I like it. Tempest,” she tried the name out.
Tempest grinned at the girl’s enthusiasm over her name, but then the reality of her situation settled in again, and she felt the world close in. What was she going to do? She had only arrived six days ago with little money, just enough to settle herself in a room for a short time. She had been hoping to find work, but it was more difficult than she thought. Now she had no more money to pay the rent for her temporary lodgings. Foolishly, she thought she could trust the man who had offered her help...She should have known better to trust a stranger. Hadn’t that been the reason she left home? To get away from her drunk, abusive father and the man he had been forcing her to marry. The man that had taken her against her will?
Raja felt the change of atmosphere, silently cursing herself. She knew the woman was in pain and here she was babbling on about how pretty a name Tempest was. She looked at Tempest, deep in the eyes, knowing that she was feeling a fast beating of heart, loss of air.
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
“No, I...” her voice broke.
Raja waited for her to say no more. She took the lady by the hand. “You can stay with me. Come on.” She brushed off the woman’s protests, knowing that it was just ridiculous pride that was keeping the lady from accepting Raja’s help. She held Tempest firmly by the hand, ignoring everyone walking by in the dusk.
“This is my room,” Raja said, not letting go of Tempest’s hand until the door was closed. “You’ll stay here with me until I get you on your feet.”
Tempest was once again taken back at the small girl’s demeanor. Maybe she was older than she looked? But even she at aged nineteen could see the look of too many lives lived in the little girl’s eyes, and she felt a kinship with her, this miniature stranger. She took a quick once-over of the large room and it did not take a genius to figure out that Raja was not of a lower class. The room was not lavish, but it had the definite air of someone who was educated. Book were everywhere, papers were neatly stacked on a desk of fine wood.
“Sit here,” Raja told her, settling Tempest in one of the cushioned armchairs in front of the fire.
“You really do not have to do this,” Tempest interjected. “Your parents...”
“My parents are dead,” Raja informed, her silver eyes piercing, hard yet sorrowful. “My uncle Ardeth and I live here.”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Tempest apologized, she could have slapped herself.
“That’s all right.” Raja’s hand settled on her shoulder. “I have more family here. They should be back soon, in fact! They’ve been gone for nearly two weeks. But enough about me. You’re hurt and you’re hungry, I can tell.”
Well, that was true, but Tempest felt a bit guilty about taking advantage of the girl’s hospitality.
“I know what happened to you,” Raja said bluntly, not without compassion. “You don’t have to hide from me.”
The room was quiet; Tempest stared at the little girl. “Oh,” was all she could manage. Then tears filled her eyes, running unchecked down her face. Her shoulders shook with agonizing sobs. She instantly felt Raja’s arms around her, comforting her, murmuring something in a language unknown to her ears. After she gradually composed herself, gathering up some semblance of dignity she felt a little better. But her heart jumped in her throat when a knock sounded at the door.
“It’s okay,” Raja said to her, “it’s my uncle. He’s really nice, you’ll like him.”
Ardeth opened the door, his face barely registering surprise at the strange woman in his niece’s room. He had heard the sobbing, and he knew it wasn’t his niece’s so he had given it a moment. And it was simply obvious that this woman had gone through a terrible ordeal by the looks of her.
Raja kept a soothing hand on Tempest’s shoulder. “This is Tempest. Tempest, this is my uncle Ardeth.”
She didn’t know what to do. True, she had not traveled much, she had lived in a small village most of her life, but it was clear this man was a man of power and great stature. When she went to stand up he gestured with his hand.
“Please, do not get up,” Ardeth said, his voice gentle.
Tempest swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding politely, trying to speak.
“Shall I have food sent to the room then, little one?” he asked his niece. Trust Raja to help a person in need, no questions asked. He would talk with her later; he knew the woman was no threat.
Raja said something in Arabic, and went to hug her uncle before he left the room.
“Is he angry?” Tempest asked. “I can leave, I really-”
“Oh, you’re just like my friend Tristan,” Raja said.
“Tristan?”
“Hmm-mmm,” Raja nodded. “He’s not here right now. He’s a knight, out on patrol.”
“One of the Sarmatian knights?” She had heard all about them, one would have to be living under a rock and not have heard about them at least once.
“Yeah. See, one of the knights, Lancelot, is my cousin. That’s why my uncle brought me here after my parents died, because other than him, Lancelot is the only blood relative I have. His father and my father were brothers. I think of him more as a brother than a cousin really, I think of them all as brothers. Well, except for Tristan, he and I have an indefinable relationship. I take care of all of them.”
She told Tempest all about her family until the food was brought to them. Tempest immediately dug in, having not eaten anything substantial in days. When she was finished, Raja sent for a warm bath, and while Tempest cleaned herself up, the little Egyptian got her a nice, warm shift to sleep in. Raja also got a pair of knee high socks from one of her drawers. She had knitted a pair for everyone, and had knitted even more because the men wore their socks out rather quickly. Raja also got her a clean dress and some breeches for the following day. There wasn’t much she could do about her bruises, and luckily she had no internal injuries.
“Want me to brush your hair?” Raja asked.
Tempest smiled. “All right.”
Raja set about it. She gave a blanket to Tempest, combing her long, brown hair gently. “I brush Tristan’s hair all the time. He never lets me put cream in his hair though, no matter how many times I tell him that it will soften it up. He only lets me comb and braid his hair.”
Tempest liked hearing Raja talk about her family. The little girl’s voice was soothing. “He braids his hair?”
Raja giggled. “Yeah, but don’t let that fool you. He is very strong and intimidating. A lot of people are afraid of him, but if they really knew him, they wouldn’t be. But don’t tell anyone that.”
“The secret is safe with me.”
Raja plaited the woman’s hair, realizing that this normal looking person had never once looked at her as if she were odd. Raja was usually a good judge of character, minus the mishap with Claudius and Claudia last month. She was still mentally berating herself for that slipup. She had let her childish notions take over her common sense. Sometimes her mind got caught between child and adult, people have often said that she had an old soul. But at times, simply because of her age, she was treated like a young girl, which was ...confusion again.
Raja insisted that Tempest take her bed. It was big enough for two and half peoples, so Raja took the other side. Tempest was momentarily startled when a small mouse tittered its way on Raja’s pillow.
“This is Peepers. Don’t worry, he’s clean,” Raja promised.
Tempest smiled and gently ran her finger over Peeper’s back. Raja was pleased that she wasn’t afraid of the small mouse, most women were. They talked quietly for a while, eventually falling off to sleep.
Raja woke in the middle of the night when Tempest began mumbling in her sleep.
“No...please. No...” Tempest pleaded.
Raja had never heard anyone else have such nightmares. Tempest didn’t scream like she did, but it was as equally distressing. Raja put a hand on Tempest’s forehead, realizing that it was rather warm. She scurried out of bed, soaking a cloth in the wash basin, wrung it out and put it on Tempest’s forehead. The little Egyptian sat crossed legged on the bed near the ailing woman, quietly singing the lullaby that was often sung to her to calm her ills. Raja monitored the woman’s temperature, making sure it didn’t spike unexpectedly. Tempest gradually calmed, Raja’s lulls becoming mere whispers.
“I won’t let him hurt you again,” Raja whispered. “I’ll protect you.”
----
Tempest woke to the aroma of food. She felt rested, but still sore from her injuries. She let her vision come into focus, seeing Raja arranging fresh food on the table. Tempest could tell the little girl had already washed and clothed herself.
“Good morning,” Raja greeted her happily.
“Morning,” Tempest replied, smiling. “I must have slept late.”
“It’s a little before
“
“No worries Tempest. Rest. You need rest,” the small one insisted. “There are clothes laid out for you there.”
Tempest saw clean clothes indeed laid out for her on the end of the bed. She ate first with Raja, grateful once again for the filling food. Raja left her while she washed and dressed, taking the dishes with her. Tempest made the bed, not quite knowing what else she would do. She still needed to find work, and certainly could not live off Raja’s help. Indeed, she also feared stepping outside. What if she saw the man again? The Roman that had duped her with his kindness? How could she go out with these bruises on her face?
Raja opened the door, presenting Tempest with a clean cloak, free of rips and tears.
“Oh, thank you, Raja. I...I’ll pay you back.”
Raja pursed her lips, hands on her hips tapping her small foot. “You are definitely like my friend Tristan.”
“How so?”
“Months ago, I made him some clothes, and he kept going on about how he would pay me back. And I kept telling him that it was a gift! A gift. I had to slap him upside the head! But I won’t do that to you.” Raja smiled an impish smile at that.
“Very well,” Tempest thanked her profusely. “I am very grateful.”
“Bah,” Raja waved her hand, blushing. “My uncle spoke to some people, and there is need of another maid for the keep. There is also work in the laundry and tavern.”
Tempest didn’t know what to say. Just like that her unemployment was solved.
“I’ll take you to the lady that oversees the cleaning of the keep and laundry. Then there’s Vanora, she’s about your age but practically the head of the tavern. She’s really nice.”
Tempest was overwhelmed; it was all like a dream. She made sure to thank Ardeth, he said that he was happy to help and if she needed anything else she was not to hesitate to ask. Raja took her to meet Ruby, a tall, stout woman with brown braided hair with flecks of grey. She was loud, but not obnoxious, and fair. Ruby instantly took to Tempest, knowing a good, diligent worker when she saw one. She also clucked her tongue in a fashion that related she had seen many bruised women. Tempest would start immediately with work, which she was all too happy to do.
Reluctantly, Raja left Tempest, her newfound friend. She
sighed heavily, heading to her uncle’s study for her daily teachings. A couple
of hours past
”How’s my favorite girl?” he greeted, hugging her gently so he wouldn’t press her against his sharply studded armor.
She kissed him on the cheek, then he set her down, the other knights greeting her with hugs of their own. Lancelot no longer blushed when his cousin hugged him ardently, planting a kiss on his cheek. In fact, he realized that it got him swooning looks from the ladies.
“You all have to meet my friend,” she said to them. “She’s working right now, but later, you have to meet her.”
“She?” Lancelot inquired.
Raja looked at him through half slit eyes, pointing a finger at him. “You stay away from her.”
Before the knights went and cleaned up, Raja gave them each a new pair of long socks, certain their current ones were in smelly condition. They rested and ate, Raja read a bit and managed a nap in the interim. She woke up around sundown, which was surprising to her, she rarely managed more than an hour’s nap, and always tossing and turning at that. She wanted to go straight to the tavern, but her uncle made her sit and eat, observing that she was losing a bit of weight, which he didn’t like, she couldn’t afford to be thinner. Raja enjoyed her vegetable soup, slathered in thick gravy and pepper, conversing with her uncle.
She gave her uncle a hug before heading off to the tavern to see Tempest. It was already getting loud and raucous in the bar, but Raja scanned the room for Tempest, immediately seeing her talking to Vanora in the back. She headed towards her, greeting Vanora as she stopped in front of them.
“Raja,” Tempest said, smiling, “I was just telling Vanora how you and your uncle have helped me tremendously.”
“He was happy to do it,” Raja replied. “Do you want to meet my friends?”
Vanora laughed. “I was telling her about them earlier.”
“Well, you come meet them.” Raja took Tempest’s hand. “They’re over there. Come on, Vanora.”
The three of them walked over to where the knights were sitting, Raja introducing each of them to Tempest. Bors gave Vanora suggestive looks, still completely enamored with her. They said hello to Tempest politely, tactfully ignoring the slight bruise on her cheek. Lancelot stood up, kissing Tempest on the hand.
“A pleasure,” he said in his best swarthy voice.
Tempest gave him a look that implied she knew all about him. “I certainly see the resemblance between you and your cousin. She has told me all about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Raja.
“Oh, certainly, good things,” Tempest said, pressing her lips together in an attempt not to laugh. “I see your hair has grown back very nicely.”
Vanora erupted in laughter, the other knights joining her.
Lancelot shot his cousin a semi-furious look, a blush creeping up his neck.
“Come, come, Tempest,” Vanora took her lightly by the arm, “I’ll show you the ropes. You needn’t work that long tonight, it’s best you ease into it slowly.” The two women said goodbye.
Raja took a seat between Dagonet and Tristan, Lancelot sat across from her, still peeved. Bors sat with his head rested on one of his hands, gazing at Vanora walking away with a lustful stare.
“Her hips drive me wild,” Bors mused absently.
“Where did you find her?” Lancelot asked, referring to Tempest. “I think I can bring her into my clutches.”
Raja kicked him in the shin from under the table. “I said stay away from her.”
“You can’t stop me!” Lancelot retorted.
But Raja didn’t answer. Her back went rigid, her pupils contracting to miniscule dots as she saw Tempest’s face drain of color near a table. A Roman had her by the wrist, gently, but with a look of lechery in his eyes. That was the man. The little Egyptian pulled the dagger from her sheath swiftly, and before anyone could stop her, she threw it with perfect precision at the Roman’s table, the tip of the blade landing right between his fingers.
“What the hell!” Lancelot looked back and forth between where the dagger had landed and Raja.
Tristan observed a look he had never seen on Raja’s face before. Instead of her pupils wide and vacant, they were just mere dots, the irises of her eyes swirling with molten silver.
“Who the fuck threw that!” The Roman shot up from his seat, extracting the dagger from the table.
The second he had let go of Tempest, she had stumbled off, running out of the tavern. Raja popped up from her seat, standing in front of the Roman in seconds. The knights were right behind her, confused as hell, stuck between the accuracy of Raja’s throw, and the stark malevolence in her eyes.
First she said in Sarmatian, “Please, do not do anything, yet.” Then in English, “I threw it,” Raja spat, looking up at the Roman that towered over her. Dagonet put a large hand on her shoulder, but Raja didn’t feel it.
The Roman looked at the men backing her, then at the dagger in his hand. Then he burst out laughing. “You don’t have to cover up for one of these men.” He shot a look of obvious disdain at the Sarmatians, obviously not believing that a child could have thrown with such accuracy.
“I’m not covering up for anyone,” Raja sneered. “Give me back my dagger.”
When the Roman stared at her, her brothers all put their hands on their weapons, tensed and ready for defense. Three men that sat at the Roman’s table all stood, touching their weapons, ready to defend their Roman brother.
“I think I’ll keep it,” the Roman said. “Looks like it worth a fortune.” He observed the intricate carvings, and the luscious gem on the butt of the hilt.
Raja’s face betrayed nothing, all the madness was in her eyes. It was a side of her that rarely came out. But when it did it came out in full force, the side of her that erupted when she was defending one of her own.
“Give it back to her,” Tristan’s voice was laced with monotonous death.
The rest of the tavern was as silent as a graveyard. The Romans snickered at the small girl and her barbarian brethren. All of them, both sides, were in stances ready for battle. Dagonet’s hand was still on Raja’s shoulder. No one saw Vanora leave the tavern to find either Arthur or Ardeth. She was also worried about Tempest’s disappearance. She had seen the look of fear on her face.
The weapon was held out of Raja’s reach, but she made no move.
“You're a bad man” Raja hissed.
It was so low that it only came out as harsh release of air.
“Pardon me,” the Roman said condescendingly.
“You're a bad man” Raja said louder. “A bad man!"
The knights looked at Raja and back at the Roman, who looked
startled. Tristan wasn’t the only one who surmised that Raja had been violated
back in
“Raja.” Tristan said her name.
“Don’t do anything,” Raja stressed in Sarmatian.
“You’re insane,” the Roman said.
The knights’ stance became more protective. Raja held tightly onto Tristan’s wrist, though her small hand did not wrap entirely around it.
“That’s not the first time I’ve been called that,” Raja told him evenly. Her calm was eerie. She raised her small hand, her eyes never leaving the Roman. “Give me back my dagger.”
The Roman scoffed. “Why should I?”
Raja was silent for a moment. “So I can kill you.”
The Romans were momentarily taken aback at the little girl’s statement. Then they burst out laughing. The knights quickly looked at Raja. She may have been small, but they could see the determination in her eyes.
“And what is my crime?” the man asked.
“You did a bad thing to her.”
“Who?”
“You know who. Or have you done so many bad things to women you can't remember?”
The Roman blinked, recovering with a smirk.
“I want my dagger.” Raja still stood with her arm outstretched. “Now.”
It was dawning on the knights, more so than the Romans. The bruise on Tempest’s cheek. Raja’s protectiveness over her. The fact that she did not want Lancelot, or probably any man to proposition her.
The Roman sighed with mock resignation. “Oh, all right.” He held the dagger out to her, hilt first.
Raja snatched it away, holding the flat of the blade against her wrist. She lacked brawn, but the one thing she always had on her side, her greatest asset was speed. She bent her knees just slightly to wring herself away from Dagonet’s grasp, then she sped forward, covering the few feet between her and the Roman, plunging the sharp blade into the Roman’s thigh. He screamed in a mix of rage and pain. Raja tried to twist the blade, but the Roman grabbed her by the hair. All that had happened within seconds.
Tristan punched the Roman in the face, Dagonet pulled Raja away, the blade coming free from the Roman. The other Romans came to their friend’s defense, ready to attack Tristan who was grappling with the injured Roman. Lancelot and Bors came to Tristan’s defense. Raja squirmed violently, trying to release herself from Dagonet’s grasp. She began screaming in a mix of Sarmatian and Arabic, the crowd in the tavern either cheering on the fight or standing in shock and awe.
Out of nowhere, a voice spoke that sounded as if it were being said from every corner of the tavern. It was not a scream, or a yell, but a mere rising of a voice that sounded like a god speaking from above. Everyone stopped moving, talking, probably breathing as Ardeth walked through the tavern towards the melee, it was as if he were floating. His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes were pure black. Arthur stood behind Ardeth.
“Separate. Now.” Ardeth commanded. The knights and Romans let go of each other without hesitation. Ardeth’s voice was hypnotizing, a voice that commanded obedience. The Egyptian looked at the Roman on the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his thigh. “Get him to the infirmary,” Ardeth ordered. Two people came forward, taking the Roman from under the shoulders, aiding him out of the tavern.
“No!” Raja yelled, she began trying to extricate herself from Dagonet’s hold. Her rage was turning into distress. “I’ll kill him!” Her face had a light splattering of blood on it, her small hands slick with it, her blade dripping red.
Despite Raja being held by Dagonet, Ardeth still towered over her. He said one word in Arabic, just one, and Raja stopped, her uncle’s voice rendering her immobile.
“You may release her, Dagonet” Ardeth said. When Dagonet hesitated for a mere moment, not certain whether Raja would try to run, Ardeth said, “Not to worry. She is going nowhere.” Ardeth looked at Raja.
Dagonet lightly set her down, and indeed she did not disobey her uncle.
“Come,” Ardeth said to her. He held out his hand for her dagger, which was promptly placed in his hand. “Arthur, I shall leave you to your men.” He nodded respectfully at the commander, leading Raja from the tavern.
Arthur looked at his knights, a little worse for the wear, but they did not suffer as badly as the Romans. The Sarmatians looked unapologetic for their actions, of course they held no sympathy for the Romans, the bane of their existence.
Everything was dealt with expediently that night. The commander of the Romans was incensed that his men had become belligerent with Ardeth’s niece. He couldn’t stress enough the power Ardeth wielded in many countries, how high born he was, how wealthy. Even he had the utmost respect for the Egyptian. They tried to defend themselves, they were the ones who were attacked first. When they said the little girl had started it, their commander became even more enraged. Blaming a child! Ardeth’s child! How pathetic and cowardly it was to blame a little girl.
Arthur was calmer with his men. The knights explained the situation, although they did not fully understand the reason for Raja’s actions.
“I think,” Dagonet spoke, “that Raja believes the Roman she stabbed raped Tempest.”
“Wouldn’t put it past him,” scoffed Lancelot.
They were in Arthur’s office, having spoken their piece, all but Tristan who leaned against the closed door with his arms crossed.
“So she has no proof?” Arthur asked.
The knights mumbled, but quieted when Tristan spoke.
“Raja wouldn’t have done what she did unless she had been sure.” His tone was definitive, he did not elaborate.
“Well, nevertheless,” Arthur sighed, “Raja’s actions are not my responsibility. But yours are,” he said, looking at his men. “I spoke briefly with the Commander of the other men, he says that no accusations will come against you, he does not hold his men blameless.”
Lancelot snorted. “He’s afraid of Ardeth.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Bors seconded.
Dagonet stopped the direction that conversation was heading in. “How’s Raja?”
“I don’t know. I believe Ardeth is talking to her in her room,” informed Arthur.
Bors chuckled. “Who’d have thought little Raja had such aim!”
Before anything further could be said, a loud knock rapped against the door. Tristan casually moved from against the door, opening it to reveal a pale-faced Jols.
“The stables,” Jols said breathlessly.
----
All of them made haste to the stables, not seeing anything amiss until they looked up.
“Tempest” Raja yelled, pushing her way through the men. She still had dried blood on her. Ardeth had walked in behind her, she would not calm until she had found Tempest, she would not. The stables was the first place he had taken her. She found her.
Tempest had climbed the ladder to the hayloft to tie a rope to the rafters. She hung lifeless. Someone was already up by the rope, ready to cut her down. Another man stood below, ready to catch her. Tempest’s body fell into the man’s outstretched arms. He set her on the ground.
Raja let no one deter her. She fell by Tempest, cradling her in her small arms, singing the Arabic lullaby in a vain attempt to wake her deceased friend. When Ardeth heard Raja’s pitch become louder, he went to pull her away. Raja’s hand clenched Tempest’s clothes, not wanting to let her go.
“I’ll take care of her!” Raja’s voice was muffled, buried in Tempest’s neck. “Go away! I’ll protect her!”
Ardeth bent down on one knee, speaking to her gently.
“No,” her voice came out in a distressed rumble. “I said I’d take care of her. Go away!” From her knees, a viselike grip on Tempest, Raja tried to drag her away from the rest of them.
The scene was heartbreaking. Lancelot walked away, never able to stand seeing his cousin in so much pain. Jols, Bors and Dagonet were soothing the horses, the animals felt the panic in the air. Tristan stood and watched his Raja, once again wishing there was something he could do. If she had only gone to him, he would have killed the man for her if it would have brought her closure. He shouldn’t have let Raja stand there in the tavern defending herself, he should have done something immediately. He hated seeing the blood on her hands and face.
Ardeth managed to pry his niece’s hands free from Tempest. When he picked her up she struggled, arms outstretched to the prone figure of Tempest. Ardeth’s hold on her was firm as he walked steadfastly from the stables. It took hours of soothing, for Ardeth knew that demands would not work on her, to get Raja’s rage to subside enough for her uncle to clean her up and put her to bed.
----
Despite the hardness of the earth, a hole was dug in the graveyard that was for the deceased villagers, and a day later Tempest was buried. Raja had known her a mere day, but her heart ached as if she had known the woman her whole life. Raja asked her uncle if they could get her a gravestone, and though they were expensive, he consented. Her name was carved in calligraphic letters on the stone, and below it was the Eye of Horus.
The sky was dark and cloudy the day of her funeral, the snow fell heavily. After Vanora and the knights had departed from her gravesite, Raja stayed, standing still as an oak tree next to Tempest’s grave. Ardeth stood a few paces back, letting his niece have her space. Raja, for once, seemed immune to the cold. The wind lashed at her face, her hair blew in the wind like a black velvet curtain. When a half hour had passed and Raja still showed no signs of moving, Ardeth approached her ready to take her back inside.
He kneeled on one knee next to her. “Come, little one, it is much too cold for you now. You can visit later.”
“Why did she do it, uncle?” Raja whispered. “I told her I would take care of her.”
He sighed and pulled her towards him. “No one can say for sure why a person decides to take his or her own life. Every individual has a breaking point.”
“I don’t understand,” Raja’s voice cracked, a tear falling down her cheek. “Why is she dead but that man is still alive? He should be dead. I failed her.”
“No, Raja. You failed no one. In life, a person can only do so much for another. You did all you could. And killing that man would not have changed anything for Tempest.”
“Will he live?”
“He lost a lot of blood,” he told her plainly. “It is uncertain at this time.”
“I want to kill him,” Raja sobbed.
“I know little one. The need for vengeance is strong when a loved one has been treated unjustly. But your mother and father would not want you to have his blood on your hands, and neither do I.”
She nodded, sniffling. Indeed, she had been disgusted with the bitter smell of blood on her hands. She did not enjoy it, but deep down she felt that she had a wrong to right.
“I’m sleepy,” she said.
Ardeth picked her up, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, burying her face in his neck, crying the whole way.
----
Every day, Raja went to stand next to Tempest’s grave, trying to get a connection, hoping to find understanding. After the first week she developed a cough, and her uncle no longer let her stand outside. A few days inside and her cough was gone. But a week later she collapsed in the hallway, a strong fever settling upon her. This was not new to Ardeth. Sudden afflictions such as this had been happening periodically to Raja since she was a child. Her temperature rose and fell, rose and fell. Her cough was persistent, flecks of blood spotted her lips.
Two weeks later she was able to sit up, but a bit too weak to talk. Tempest never left her mind, the Roman never left her mind.
When Tristan sat with her, her sickly pallor worried him. The first week of January, Raja was still bed ridden, and still had not said a word to anyone. Ardeth always left the room when Tristan came to sit with Raja. And for the last few days Tristan had taken to sleeping in the armchair next to Raja’s bed every night.
The sun was setting, Tristan and Raja had both been dozing. Her eyelids fluttered open, her sight focusing. Weakly, she reached for the cup of water on the nightstand beside her. At the small movement, Tristan’s eyes shot open.
“Don’t move,” he said. He got the cup for her, holding her head up gently so she could sip from the cup.
She rasped, “How long have I been asleep?”
“The last time you were awake was three days ago.”
She gave a tired grunt of understanding, blinking, then she giggled.
“What?” Tristan asked, surprised at her sudden amusement.
Raja cleared her throat. “Peepers.”
“What about him?”
She smiled wider this time. “On your head.”
He felt a flutter of movement on his head, grabbing the small mouse. Peepers hung from his tail on Tristan’s fingers. “Is that where you’ve been then?”
“Mice like places they can burrow,” Raja said. “Your hair is perfect for that.”
He snorted, setting Peepers into Raja’s hands. “Well, hurry up and get better so you can comb my hair.”
She coughed and laughed at the same time. She stroked Peeper’s back with her finger. “Is he dead?”
Tristan knew who she was referring to. “No. He and his legion are leaving to another village in the morning.”
“I failed her. And I couldn’t save her.”
“You couldn’t have done anything. She killed herself, she was already gone.” Tristan’s voice was harsher than he’d intended for it to be. Truth? He had seen Tempest once in his life, in the tavern. The only reason her death bothered him was because it was putting Raja in a darker place which was making her sick. And the fact that this Roman was alive and Tempest dead was eating at her all the more.
“Still.”
“She wasn’t your responsibility.”
“I was taking care of her.”
”You have your own demons to grapple with, you shouldn’t have tried to take on hers,” he lectured.
“Isn’t that what you do with me though? I take care of you.” She looked at him pointedly, sorrowfully.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Tristan sighed heavily. “You can’t save everybody, Raja.”
“I’m not trying to save everyone. I was trying to save her.”
“How did you expect to drive away her demons when yours are always so close behind you?” He turned and winced, he hadn’t worded that right. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t like you trying to put her death on your hands.”
“I thought,” a tear fell from her eye, “if I could give you peace, then I could do the same for her.”
“Hey,” Tristan wiped the tear from her face with the pad of his thumb, “I don’t think you can compare me and her.”
She shrugged. “At least she won’t have bad dreams anymore. Do you think... death is the only way to stop bad dreams?”
He didn’t like the way she had worded that. He knew what was going through her mind again.
“Trissy?”
“I don’t know, Raja. But I told you before, you’re not going anywhere.” He held onto her wrist. “Okay?” When she didn’t answer he squeezed tighter. “Did you hear me?”
“Okay.” This time it was she who held tightly to his hand. “If that man had done to me what he did to Tempest, what would you do? Was I wrong to want to kill him?”
----
It was still dark when the small contingent of Romans left the fort. The Roman with the injured leg was among them, still in pain but strong enough to travel, and still embarrassed him that it was a small girl who had inflicted his grievous wound. As they traveled, none of them noticed the man following them. The gait of a man who was hunting prey.
When it was the right moment for the man, he hid among the trees, his horse some distance away. Hidden among the brush, he released an arrow that went through the injured Roman’s head. A commotion was brought about, thinking they were being attacked by Woads, but no more arrows flew through the air. There were no war cries.
Tristan rode back to the fort. He had had a dream the night before that that man had attacked Raja. That Roman was capable of it, and Tristan was taking no chances. This gave Tristan a small peace of mind, and when Raja heard that the Roman was dead, he knew it would give her peace of mind as well. It was only mid afternoon when Tristan arrived back at the fort. Just in time for him to eat lunch with Raja.