I have decided with this story not to confine myself within the boundaries of the film as I wanted a chance to write something a little more light-hearted. Of course, it's Tristan so there has to be a little angst (lol) but hopefully a few smiles too. So forget deaths on icy lakes and other such tragedies. I have no idea where this story will go but so long as someone wants to read it and I enjoy writing it, I'll continue and see what happens!

Synopsis

When Tristan finally meets his match, he never expected for one minute it would be wearing a skirt! Being a man used to always having his own way, the woman's infuriating resolve to keep him at arms length proves a tad too much, even for this battle hardened knight. But he was determined to have her yield to him, he would have it no other way.

CHAPTER ONE

"What in the devil's name did you have to drag me here for, Ros?" grumbled Cait as she nudged and shoved her way through the throng of carousing revellers. Reaching her destination, Cait took her place beside her red-headed companion, who had by now settled herself atop a makeshift wooden barrier in order to get herself a more satisfying view of the day's entertainment. Cait on the other hand, chose to stand and with a habitual tug on the greying head wrap that covered all but her small round face, she finally settled her elbows upon the fence next to her friend.

In the centre of a ring of bellowing and cheering faces, two knights obligingly exhibited their ferocious talents with sword and shield for the enraptured on-lookers. The constant crash of metal challenging metal and the adrenalin fuelled roars of the two combatants drove Ros into a frenzy of delighted whoops and Cait into a despondent groan. She knew she should have stayed home today but she had allowed Ros to cajole her into coming. Now she knew it wouldn't be long before Ros had found herself a man's arm to drape herself over and she would be forgotten - left alone to escort herself back to her small dwelling just about a mile south of the wall. Not a prospect Cait welcomed, considering the vast growing numbers of intoxicated soldiers and serfs that revelled all about them. Nearby, the smoky clouds of a roaring communal fire reeked in her nostrils, mingling deliciously with that of the mouth-watering aroma of roasting hog. But as hungry as she was, even the thought of damping her ever growing appetite with a tasty meal, could not wipe the scowl from her brow.

"I wonder ya ever had a joyful day in yer life, ya pitiful wench!" Ros threw across her shoulder as she caught sight of the foul look on her friend's face "What's wrong with ya? The King is wed today, what better reason to be here and making merry?"

Cait's scowl furrowed deeper at the sounds of her friend's spontaneous caterwauls of delight as one of the battling knights (a flaxen haired hulk of a man) knocked his younger, rather fresh-faced opponent clean off his feet and demand that he yield. The crowds that gathered around the arena hollered their approval as the contest was won. The victor let out a roar as he punched his broadsword in the air, taking a moment to absorb the sweet taste of triumph before reaching down his free hand to help up his crest-fallen rival with a broad grin.

Paying no more heed to the doleful woman beside her, Ros bounced up and down excitedly, clapping and whooping her approval whilst hoping desperately to attract the handsome grin her way. There would be a full purse there tonight to be sure, she thought appreciatively and he was a fine looking man indeed with his blue eyes and long sun kissed braids and whiskers.

"Pah! The King indeed!" Cait snipped irritably "The place running amuck with knights and soldiers more like! That's the only prospect to tempt you from your bed afore noon and don't you deny it! Why, one sniff of a fighting man and his gold and it's down with his breeches and up with your skirts for sure! – You've no shame, no! Not one bit!"

Ros cast down a spurious glare at the woman by her side and knowing her friend's chiding for the empty scolding it was, she returned it with a chuckle

"A wizened old nun you are for sure, oh pious Cait of such saintly virtue!" She cooed mockingly with a haughty toss of her long red locks "You'll die a shrivelled, lonely old maid one of these days and………God's bones Cait!! Would you look at that?!" She gasped suddenly and laughed once again as her attention quickly drew back to the two knights now readying themselves to leave the arena.

Cait's eye wandered reluctantly to the cause of Ros's zealous call for attention. There to see that both knights, their brows now flushed red and glistening with perspiration, had cast off their hauberks to their waiting knaves and were now tossing their sweat sodden shirts to the ground. From the sidelines, a small boy ran quickly over to the pair, hauling pails of icy water which slopped over with every stride and most every female in the crowd cheered with wanton delight, as both men took the proffered refreshment and drenched their hot and naked torsos. Ros shrieked with laughter, yelling lewd enticements meant especially for the ears of the victorious blond warrior, the like of which left Cait groaning inwardly at Ros's typically excruciating impropriety.

Thankfully, the tempting aroma of succulent roasting pork once again diverted her attention to the hollow in her stomach, telling Cait that now was as good a time as any to escape the prospect of playing gooseberry to Ros's inevitable endeavour to attach herself to the winning knight now taking his leave.

Leaving Ros with an unlikely promise to perhaps meet up once more later in the day, Cait turned and walked away. But not before she allowed her eyes to linger, just once, upon the last residual droplets of water which now shimmered on their beguiling journey over the taut, muscular frames of the two men making their way from the arena. With a despondent sigh, she sauntered on as her bewildering thoughts drifted way back to the man she had once called husband and who had never given her one single moment of the pleasure that Ros enthused over so passionately.

She gave a rare smile at the thought of Ros with her devilish, flaming red hair and saucy sway in her hips. Hard-headed and resilient as she was though, Ros was not a one for hard work and toil but instead, much preferred making her way in life along with many of the other loose skirted women who trailed round the camps after any knight or soldier willing to pay for their companionship. It was an easy living, she always said and besides it was far better than working the fields or castle kitchens. 'There'll be plenty of time for that', she always said, when beauty faded and she could no longer hold the eye of a man in need of a wench to warm his bed. For all Cait's protests to the contrary, if she were truly honest, there were moments in her life when she believed she almost envied Ros's wanton ways as near as much as she disparaged them. But Cait never allowed thoughts such as those to be dwelled upon and certainly never repeated out loud. It was always far easier for her to deny that unfathomable longing than to confess it.

As unlikely as it seemed, these two had found a friendship together. Not the deep, impenetrable bond of blood brothers however, but a pleasant and satisfying friendship none-the-less. A friendship that in the least, helped to ease the loneliness both women felt at times in their life. Even Ros - who in spite of her demand throughout the male populace of the community, had precious few friends or family. Most women, seeing her wild beauty and brazen attitude as either threat or competition, had only the wish to keep her as far away from themselves and their lovers as possible.

Why the two of them had struck an accord, neither woman could ever quite fathom. Two could never be so different in both looks and existence.

Maybe it was because Ros had been one of only a handful who had offered Cait friendship at a time when she was at her most vulnerable and lost, that made it easy for Cait to over-look Ros's dubious living and for Ros? - Perhaps it was merely because Cait posed no competition for her? Though deep down and for all that most thought of her, Ros wasn't without a heart and something of the sadness that had lingered in the eyes of that friendless, stubborn and often churlish young thing that had arrived at her village eight years ago, had touched her. She knew the girl would find no rescuing light in the man that had brought her there, for few knew men as Ros did and one thing had been for sure, she had known that that husband of Cait's was not of the same inclination as the men that she preferred were. In truth she had pitied the poor, ignorant soul he had brought here - him having no more desire for her than the admiration of her strong back and healthy constitution. It was clear to Ros that was all he had wanted from Cait. Working the land was back-breaking work and he could ill afford to hire the help he had needed. So, for the price of a sack of fowl and a three month old sow, he bought himself a wife instead and so came Cait of the western hills to the small southerly village within the sites of Badon Hill in the north east of Briton.

Arriving at Badon Hill more than eight summers past, Cait had been well aware that the man by her side had married her merely from necessity than from any sense of affection, after all, he had shown her nothing that would have convinced her otherwise in their brief acquaintance of just two days length. But a discovered secret dalliance with a handsome young infantry man from the 31st Roman Legion that had been camped near her village some months before, safety secured that upon the asking, her father - who couldn't rid himself of his shameful daughter quick enough – had been more than willing to pack her off on her way up north to her new life. Despised by her family and scorned by most in her community, Cait was equally as happy to go with the man who had quite simply, by chance, passed through her village that day.

Although now, any possibility that Cait could ever have be regarded as a pretty girl had long since been hidden beneath her head wrap, smock and haughty scowl - back then, she had possessed (although rarely bestowed) an enchanting smile and a certain feisty charm that was perhaps only apparent to those men that cared to look for it. Her husband, Ewen, apparently had not been of those men. At the time, this had suited her just fine. For she no more harboured any feelings of affection for him than he did her and his offer to take her off her father's hands she knew would be the only respectable offer ever likely to be forthcoming, with her past liaison so well renowned and abhorred amongst her small village community. She was her father's disgrace and a day hadn't gone by for Cait without reminder of it. She bore the scars to prove it.

As they had trundled away, leaving the memories of lost love, degradation and cruelty behind, Cait felt cleansed by a great sense of relief. She had however, in her haste to be rid of her unhappy past, given no thought as to the other duties that would be required of her in her new role as wife.

The only memory Cait had of her wedding night had been the frantic grunts and detached fumbling that lasted mere moments but had been painful and frightening in their desperation. Whatever short-lived happiness she had found in the arms of Cassius Aquila of the 31st, her experience of love had still been in its infancy and his gentle courtship not yet fully awakened her womanhood. But his tender caresses and warm kisses had always left her giddy with longing. In contrast, Ewen's pathetic assault on her person had left her feeling nauseous and violated. There had been no affection, not even desire in his clumsy pounding- more a sense of reluctance, distaste even. One the fifth night, with the feel of his thick, rough fingers pulling at the hem of her night shift, Cait knew she could take no more and had whispered beseechingly

"Please don't"

For the first time, her husband raised his head to look upon her face and Cait's distraught eyes had been met with only those of willing reprieve. The act it seemed was as disgusting to him as it was to her. And with an overwhelming sense of relief to both, he had left.

With the passing weeks an ease developed between them and although not happy, her relief at never having to be touched by her husband again and his, at not having to touch her, allowed a certain civility to nurture between them. But the newfound tranquillity would prove to be short lived.

Within six months of Cait's arriving at the wall, Ewen fell ill with the sweating sickness. Eight days later Cait found herself a widow, completely alone but certainly not helpless. Ewen had been a good provider, she could not deny him that – she had a solid roof above her head, no sign of a child in her belly and she had a strong back as well as an ever growing strength of spirit. There was nothing for it but to stay and work the fields for her bread. She needed nothing more. It was hard work, but she was no stranger to heavy toil and always carried out the chore without quandary or complaint. Without a man now to help provide there was little else for a woman such as she, save the ignominy of whoring for coin and unlike Ros, that she could never do. Having tasted both the sweetness of affection and the coldness of indifference, Cait had sworn she would never be taken without love again. She would sooner starve than suffer that and as she had more than convinced herself that there would be precious few suitors knocking at her door, she would just have to forget such notions of finding a true and loving heart and instead work hard and take care of herself. Ewen's rejection of her physically, however much welcomed, had surely left its mark on Cait. Any interest shown in her had always been met with suspicion and rebuff, with Cait believing that their only real interest was her meagre possessions and not for one minute because they found her in the least bit attractive and worthy of attention. How could they? Even her own husband had found her repulsive.

Gradually Cait had taken to scraping her long tawny hair away from her face and winding it up beneath an ugly linen head-wrap high upon her head and wearing loose heavy smocks that gave no hint of the curves that lay beneath it, thus giving the woman a slightly severe appearance beyond her years. Slowly, any male interest in her waned and she inevitably became thought of as frosty and aloof. A no-hoper where any amorous inclination might be sort and so the would be hopefuls, over-time, ceased to come knocking.

Amazingly, it had been some years later before Cait finally realised that it had not been any lacking in herself that was to blame for her husband's antipathy, when she had confided the truth to Ros one day. Ros had laughed incredulously and said, "Did ya not ever wonder at his preferrin' the company of the old blacksmith's girly-faced son to your own, Cait? Can ya really be so green?"...

...A sudden screech and a painful peck of her arm roused Cait from her reminiscing, causing a startled wail to slip through her lips as she found herself the unwitting victim of a much vexed hawk. So wrapped in her thoughts was she, Cait hadn't noticed the bird perched upon a post and as she had passed so closely by, the hawk had given Cait no doubt of it's annoyance at having it's personal space so rudely encroached upon.

"You little Devil's beastie, you!" Cried Cait "That I should wring your neck for the harpy you are!" The hawk gave Cait an insulting screech and flapped its powerful wings as if daring her threat. Cait glared and opened her mouth to curse once more just as a tall figure emerged from the gathering around the hog roast fire she had been making her way toward.

An unfathomable whiskered face with sharp tawny eyes stared icily through a tangle of shaggy brown hair lay strewn across both face and shoulders. Struck quite silent, Cait found herself staring back just as intensely, captured by both curiosity and fascination. As if seeing for the first time in this faintly exotic face, something strange and new. But this was not something new to her, this was something she remembered. Something she had glimpsed once before, the first time her eyes had unwilling been met with this same icy stare and which again, as then, threatened to pierce through her normally steadfast deportment. But she stood fast, her obstinate pride simply refusing to allow herself to be ensnared and thrusting her hands upon her hips, threw him back an arrogant glare.

Cait saw no flicker of recognition in the dark eyes that held her own; she instead heard only the sound of a clicking tongue which was answered by the hawk as it hopped the short distance over to the man's now outstretched and gauntleted hand. His mildly accusing eyes never once left her own and inevitably Cait could hold even her mulish countenance no longer and felt her cheeks begin to colour faintly. He stared a moment longer, making Cait shift uncomfortably under his silent chastisement. He lifted a finger and caressed his companion's feathery breast gently as if soothing it from the offence of Cait's remarks and then without further expression, he turned and walked away.

Feeling herself unable to prise her eyes from his tall, lean form, Cait watched, entranced as he strode away with a confident and arrogant swagger that was so obviously all his own. She cursed below her breath at the peculiar pound in her chest and even more so at the bewildering disappointment that his unrecognising eyes brought to her. It had been such a fleeting crossing of paths some two autumns ago and until just a few moments ago, one that Cait had believed she had finally forgotten. As he disappeared into the crowds, Cait found it impossible to fight the need to see his face just one more time. If only to convince herself that he truly was as ill favoured as she'd made herself believe, following the months he had preyed unwontedly upon her thoughts. That he really was nothing more than an arrogant, conceited oaf. That he truly held no conjurer's spell upon her.

Just one more time, she told herself as she began once more to tousle her way through the exuberant crowds.