While Kation was gone, Tristan laid out all the weapons on the single narrow bed – checking them over and listening for the slightest sound of trouble. He was also pretending he wasn't worried about how long she was taking. What if she had been caught?
A slithering from above announced her arrival. She was very fond of using the rooftops as her personal pathways. He stood and crossed the room to open the shutters – but as he did so, he met a slight resistance and then heard a sharp gasp.
"Shit, oh shit!" he heard her very quiet but panicky voice from beyond the shutters.
"Kat?" he whispered softly, throwing the shutters open and looking about for her.
"Down here, idiot!" hissed a voice below him.
Leaning over the lip of the window, he looked down to see her dangling by her fingertips from a small crack in the wall. She was glaring up at him and Tristan saw that there was no way she would be able to scramble back up to the window. Without a word, he turned away and retrieving a blanket off the bed, tied a knot in the corner and threw it out to her.
"Where's a rope when you need it?" she grumbled, grabbing the blanket above the knot and letting Tristan haul her up. As soon as her hands were level with the windowsill she clung to it and pulled herself into the room. Tristan seized her shoulders and pulled her in, closing the shutters. When he turned back to her, he saw that her lips were blue from the cold and she was shaking.
"So?" he asked impatiently, watching her as she pushed the weapons to one side, sat on the bed and yanked off her boots to rub some warmth back into her feet.
She shot him a warning look and pressed a finger to her lips before answering in a low voice. "Found an awful lot of damning evidence. And by that, I mean I've had to lock up the entire room from the inside. I couldn't even begin to move it all in here tonight."
"If you locked the room then how are we supposed to get to it again?"
"Through the window," she said promptly.
"And what does the evidence suggest?"
"That Baron Donatus is indeed involved in a conspiracy with the Prefect," she sighed and leaned against the wall. "And that's not the worst of it…"
"What could possibly be worse than conspiring with the Prefect?"
Kation looked weary. "Well how would you quantify conspiring with the Prefect in his scheme against Arthur, while simultaneously double-dealing with the Woads?"
That threw Tristan off-balance.
"He's what?!"
"Quiet!" she hissed, flapping her arms frantically. "Some of them might be here even now!"
"Woads here? This far from the Wall?" Tristan scoffed. "They wouldn't dare."
"Would I lie about this? They've been here – I'm sure of it." She looked angry now. "And they wouldn't be painted blue, either. From what I can tell, they are trading information and resources." Her grim expression slid to one of surprised outrage. "No wonder the man's annual crop reports are so damnably consistent!" she pulled a blanket around her shoulders and huddled into it, looking resentful.
Tristan frowned at her for a moment, but couldn't contain himself. He burst out laughing. Kation looked up at him, alarmed. "What now?"
"Of all the things…" he mumbled, shaking his head. "Crop reports… clearly they were our first clue in this sorry mess." He moved the weapons to within easy reach against the wall or on the floor and sat down on the bed beside her. "And considering how much you loathed them as well…" he chuckled again, and it earned him a sharp jab to his side.
"Oh please shut up. I'm freezing and I'm going to sleep." She didn't even bother to wriggle out of her tunic, she simply burrowed under all the blankets, still shivering, and curled into a tight ball.
Tristan watched her for a long moment, then pulled off his boots and outer garments. It would be foolish to change completely in case something happened.
"So they could be anywhere," he muttered as he carefully arranged his sword to be within reaching distance by the girl's head.
She gave a muffled moan and rolled onto her back, one arm tossed over her eyes. "And look like anyone, especially since the baron is helping them to hide." She sighed.
"Then we truly are surrounded by enemies," he remarked. "Now move over, I shall take first watch." He nudged gently at her side. She grumbled and rolled over to the far end, taking all the blankets with her. Tristan sighed and sat at the foot of the bed, arranging the weapons so that they were close at hand. Kation had done enough for the moment and would rest.
~oOo~
Gawain asked Arthur if he could accompany his commanding officer to the baron's villa the next morning.
Alright, that wasn't strictly true. He insisted that he had to go, regardless of anything else that was going on. Conspiracies, insurgents, spies and murderers hardly registered as bad things compared to the thought of Tristan taking advantage of a girl he now firmly believed to be his responsibility. The scout was a man of honour, but Gawain was certain that there was more to those two's loaded looks and meaningful glances than just nefarious conspiracy.
But now he had it on authority that Tristan had been seen kissing Kat'. His little kitten was in the clutches of a man who had finally succumbed to his baser instincts!
Clearly it was Gawain's solemn duty to castrate him.
Honestly, of all the men who might have harassed Kat, he hadn't thought Tristan would have been foolish enough to do so. That girl had a pretty ferocious mind and tongue. But she wasn't strong enough to fend him off for long – he had to rescue her! Who knew what she had suffered already?!
"Arthur, you don't understand! They're in danger!" Gawain exclaimed, leaning halfway over Arthur's desk as his leader clipped his cloak onto his breastplate.
"From what?" Arthur asked, far too mildly.
"The baron!" And each other. He didn't vocalise the latter, knowing that Arthur wouldn't understand.
Lancelot, Dagonet and Kahedin were watching this exchange with interest. But they didn't bother interfering. The horses were ready and they were about to ride out – but a still mildly-intoxicated Gawain was demanding to go too. And that was funny enough to warrant observation. Gawain could have strangled the lot of them.
"Oh let him come," Dagonet said gently. "Otherwise he'll just fret and drive everyone mad." Lancelot was going to be left in charge and didn't need anything to exacerbate his hangover.
"Very well… be ready to ride out with us in an instant." Arthur said sternly.
Gawain straightened, grinned in a particularly savage way, and sprinted out. By the time the others joined him, he was hopping from foot to foot with impatience.
Lancelot, still a little grey from the aftereffects of his merry-making the previous evening, watched stood by Arthur's horse Glaucus as the knights prepared to leave. "A little drunken bird seems to have told Gawain something the rest of us already knew." He said happily.
"What do you mean?" Dagonet asked as he climbed onto his horse.
"He means," Kahedin said, taking up the tale, "that Tristan was seen kissing his slave and it's about time too."
Arthur's face darkened but he said nothing. And then, muttering something about 'last hopes', led his men from the stables as Lancelot waved cheerfully and then disappeared back to the tavern for some breakfast.
Boiling with fury, Gawain gripped the reins tightly and wished he could gallop the whole way to the baron's villa. And when he saw Tristan he would bury his axe in that man's—
"Plotting murder then?" a voice broke his reverie and he twisted violently in his saddle to see Kahedin grinning at him.
"You can sod off."
"I don't know why you're so upset – it's not like he's your brother. Otherwise I'd be on your side."
"That's not the point and you know it!" Gawain seethed. "He," and he spat the word sarcastically, "might as well be – don't deny that we have a duty of care!"
Kahedin looked away his expression thoughtful, and then he nodded solemnly. "I know what you mean. I know he is Tristan's, but he is just so… vulnerable. And that bastard doesn't seem to care for him. Granted our friend was worried about him after the attack, but did he do anything to protect Kat? No, he had us do it."
Gawain thought he sounded resentful. "It shows us how much he trusts us," he argued. "After all, can you imagine Kat being left in Bors' care?"
Kahedin shuddered. "Or worse: Gaheris."
Gawain could not disagree with that. The man was not one to care for others even under duress.
Their journey was incident free but breathtakingly fast, so Arthur arrived at the baron's villa in very good time. Clearly Tristan's arrival had put the wind up their quarry, because the baron greeted them in person. He was tall and had once been powerfully built, but the muscle had gone slightly soft. But doubtless the man was still capable of fighting.
"Ah! Arthur Castus, I bid you welcome!" he said amiably, every inch the happy host. "Your knight arrived very late last night; I do not believe he has even risen yet—"
But as he spoke, Tristan strode into the doorway. He was heavily armed; even his sword was slung over his back. This was so unusual that Arthur and the knights tensed. Tristan was communicating silently that there was trouble afoot. And, completely ignoring his host and commander, addressed his fellow Sarmatians in their own language. "We have serious trouble. Why aren't there more men?"
"They are on their way," Dagonet said. "Why?"
"Where's Kat? What have you done to him?!" Gawain hissed, leaning down in the saddle to glare horribly at the scout.
Tristan frowned back up at him. "In the baron's records room – guarding the evidence. He has barricaded himself in and will whistle if the room is attacked."
"Oh that's a fine thing!" Kahedin laughed bitterly. "The boy will be dead before Gawain has a chance to save him from you."
Tristan, looking bewildered, shot Dagonet a quizzing look. The giant warrior shrugged and smiled slightly. "Your romantic drama lad, not mine."
"What?" Tristan hissed, even more bewildered.
Gawain, his patience snapping, let out a muted roar and physically hurled himself at Tristan, diving from the saddle his hands outstretched to grasp the scout about the throat. But Tristan neatly side-stepped the attack with a disapproving set to his mouth.
Kahedin and Dagonet stifled their smiles, but Kahedin couldn't help but remark something in Latin: "That's one way to dismount."
Arthur, who had been explaining a need to speak to the baron in private, turned to stare in astonishment at his knights' behaviour. But he relaxed marginally, since Dagonet and Kahedin had also dismounted and were leading their horses away to the stables with Tristan, chattering away in their own, incomprehensible language. Perhaps things were not so dire as Tristan was leading him to believe.