All the usual disclaimers

All the usual disclaimers...I own no one and nothing, etc., etc., etc.

As usual, italics indicate thoughts.

Follow on to chapter 1 – the aftermath of Galahad's poor piece of decision-making. Please, enjoy… And because Ysolde put forth the request for the aftermath chapter, I hope she will not mind if I steal her story-telling style.

Dagonet relates

Poor boy. I've told Bedwyr repeatedly that he taunts and teases too much; this time he has gone too far – even by his standards (whatever those may be). I fully intend to speak with him once I am certain Galahad is through vomiting.

Vanora has brought me the hot water I asked for so I can brew something to ease Galahad's stomach. If only there was something similar for his mind. I watch her as she pats the top of his head, as if he were one of her own children, before setting off to fill the tankards of drunken Romans.

The other Knights have moved to the far side of the tavern – wanting to stay away both from Galahad, in case he should he puke again, as well as me. They know I am not happy with what their trickery has caused. I can only shake my head. If they think my anger is fierce, wait until Gawain gets word of this… The thought of Gawain rushing back here, huffing and bellowing, brings a slight smile to my face. Agravaine would be proud.

My thoughts snap back to the boy in front of me as he groans. I am uncertain if that means his stomach is not yet empty or if he is recalling his run-in with Tristran. Either way, it will be better if I move him to the alley – less people to gawk or whisper about his ordeal within his notice.

I offer my hand to him, helping him to stand. He looks unsteady as a newborn foal and I am betting he feels much the same. He looks at me wonderingly and I gesture to the alley. He still looks confused, but allows me to lead him out.

Galahad relates

I don't know why I did it. I mean, I know why I did it…but I don't know precisely why I did it. I should have known better with how amused Bedwyr was sending me on my way to find Tristran.

Maybe I didn't believe he was actually with a woman. I mean, this is Tristran, after all. I have seen the women in the tavern; they avoid him as though he were cursed. Even the whores – I am not certain how high of a price one of them would have to name to accompany him to his quarters. Maybe that was what made me do it – curiosity to see just what sort of woman would be in Tristran's company.

Who am I fooling? It was because Arthur assigned me to find Tristran with an urgent message. I am already too much a soldier for my liking, following orders blindly, resembling every other Roman slave.

I shake my head as Dagonet leads me out into the alley. Groaning loudly, I wish I hadn't as another wave of vomit rushes to the back of my mouth. Luckily, Dagonet is prepared and quickly moves out of the way, pushing me toward a wall so I can lean my forehead on the cold stone. It feels lovely against my burning skin.

When I am finished for the…I have lost count of what time this is, to be honest, Dagonet sits me on a step and hands me a tankard of warm liquid.

"Sip," he commands in his low voice.

I listen. The liquid trickles down and I cringe at the taste it leaves on my tongue. I want to spit but stop myself. It would be an insult to him and his healing abilities.

I continue to sip the liquid as he sits silently next to me. I am certain he will want to know what I saw that caused such illness but I sense he will wait until I am feeling a bit stronger. I am thankful for that. He is definitely a Knight to stay on friendly terms with at all costs.

Dagonet relates

The boy sits and sips what I have brewed for his stomach. By his initial expression, I know it does not taste good but he does an admirable job of not letting it show. He just sips and sips. He is engrossed in watching the liquid make patterns in the mug. That is fine. I can wait until he is ready to talk. I have time. We all have time. Time is one of the things that we have aplenty on this island.

He clears his throat. Perhaps he is ready to speak of where Bedwyr sent him in his search for Tristran. None of us were able to get much out of him except a few mumbles of 'Tristran', 'woman', 'live', 'naked' and something that sounded like 'dagger'. The others were still laughing and cajoling the boy when I realized that he was looking pale and dazed; indications that he was about to empty his stomach.

I shake my head. I am an experienced healer but even I did not know one person could vomit so much. I don't know where all this content came from – he is not a large boy. I was waiting to see if the soles of his boots were going to be next. Is this how sick the boy gets every time? I let out a small sigh. For his sake, I hope not. Otherwise it will be a long fifteen years of service for him…

He sits a bit straighter next to me and I hear him quietly whisper thanks. I simply wave it off. He is a brother Knight and I would be a poor healer if I let him sit and suffer. Of course, were it of his own doing that he was vomiting so much…then I might consider letting him suffer a bit longer so he would learn his lesson. Little do I know that I will be enforcing those thoughts a bit too frequently for my liking in the coming years.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, a bit."

I want to pry and prod and dig to find out what he saw, what he knows, but fierce devotion to my own privacy holds my tongue.

Galahad relates

My stomach is feeling better. I think the combination of whatever awful liquid this is and the silent companionship has helped calm me. I am thankful Gawain was not here when I returned. I love my brother, and know he only wants to look out for me, but sometimes he can be overbearing.

I swallow more of the liquid – what is this stuff anyway? – and clear my throat. Perhaps if I share what I saw with someone it will help. Besides, they all know of Tristran's mating habits, right? I mean, they have all lived here together for some time.

Swallowing another gulp, I mean sip, I look up toward the sky, trying to think of how to begin.

"I didn't realize he was serious, you know…"

The big man next to me shrugs. "Sometimes it is difficult to tell with Bedwyr when he is serious and when he is teasing; even after you have known him many years."

He appraises me quietly. "Would it have stopped you from going to find Tristran for Arthur had you known he was not joking?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because Arthur wanted to speak with Tristran. I told him I would find Tristran and send him to him. What else could I do?"

"Precisely. And that is why you will, despite other opinions, make a good Knight one day."

I am not certain why, but that small bit swells my confidence. It also encourages me that despite all, I did the correct thing.

"Yes, you did the right thing. Which is not always the smartest thing. Remember that. Smart and right are not always one and the same."

Smart and right not always the same. I don't understand it but I am not going to argue it at this moment. I am simply thankful for the ear to listen.

He is silent again, waiting for me to continue. I take another sip of the vile liquid – why is it that everything that is good for you tastes so horrible? I cannot control my muscles this time as they react and contort my face into some ghastly expression. For his part, Dagonet pretends not to notice but I am fairly certain he gets some strange pleasure from my disgust. Could it be that all my new brothers are twisted and insane in their own ways? Is this what this island does to reasonable men? That might go a ways toward explaining a few things about some of them…

My thoughts trail off as he shifts on the step. Although he has shown great patience so far, I know every man has his limit and I fear Dagonet is reaching the end of his.

"Bedwyr told me that Tristran was not at the forge, only after he wasted a good amount of time not answering my question, I might add. Then when he did, all he said was that Tristran had left with some woman…Bedwyr said they were cuddling and kissing…" I shake my head in disbelief; I have seen Tristran on the battle field – cuddling and kissing are not things I picture him readily engaging in. I pause and notice that Dagonet's eyebrows have risen. Perhaps I am wrong about them knowing anything about Tristran's affairs.

"So you decided to track him and the woman down?" There is a level of incredulity in his voice that almost borders on admiration.

I nod as I take another sip and gag. Damn this liquid. Can one become sick from something that is supposed to heal? Before I can form an answer, I hear a soft chuckle next to me.

"Oh Galahad…"

"What? I did the right thing, right?"

The chuckle is now a laugh. "Yes, in a manner of speaking, but you do need to learn when the right thing is really the wrong thing."

I look at Dagonet, thoroughly confused. How can completing an errand for your commanding officer be the wrong thing when earlier he said it was the right thing?

He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, still highly amused, and encourages me to continue. I look doubtful but he nods through his mirth, motioning for me to continue talking as he takes the mug of now cold liquid (the cooler it becomes the viler it seems to taste) and sets it on the ground.

"Umm…" I have momentarily lost my thoughts and pause to regain them. Damn, he took the mug. It tasted horrible but gave me something to fidget with.

"Oh yes, I left the forge to track down Tristran…" My voice trails off as the memories come flooding back. The dark path where at times I swore there was only one set of footprints (Could he actually have been carrying her? Why?); the double-back to the forge (Had he been listening to Bedwyr and me?); ending up at the door to some strange room with even stranger noises coming from inside. I shiver involuntarily as the sounds come rushing back to my ears.

"I finally tracked him down at some room – I am guessing his companion's room. I knocked but there was no answer. I wasn't sure what to do, Dagonet. I really wasn't." I shake my head remembering the indecision as I stood at the door. I had needed to alert Tristran that Arthur was seeking his counsel, but at the same time, it was a rather awkward situation.

He nods his head, sympathizing. "That would have been a tricky situation for any of us, not just you, Galahad. You want to deliver your message, have been told it is urgent but find yourself in a most…delicate…predicament."

Yes, yes…delicate indeed. Too bad I had witnessed anything but a delicate predicament. I snort, a habit I have picked up from Gawain, and wrestle the sickness I feel rising so I can continue.

"Well, I am not certain how…umm…delicate it was. I swear, Dagonet, I did not want to open the door, but I had to." He nods in understanding. "I…umm…well…" I scratch the back of my head, uncertain how to relay what I saw. Taking a deep breath, I decide that I cannot say it any way other than how I saw it.

"She…he…they…" I begin haltingly, looking down at my boots, "umm…I know it will shock you, Dagonet, but I am relatively inexperienced with women…" I glance upward and he diverts his eyes quickly. A little too quickly. And is that a chuckle I hear being suppressed? I am on the verge of defending my manhood when I remember Gawain's advice: just don't say anything, Galahad, until you have something to defend. So I simply clear my throat and pretend not to have seen the amusement. Dagonet does much the same, clearing his throat and motioning me to continue.

"Well…I am not certain the customs or preferences of the women of Britain, but I think that most women do not wish to have a dagger anywhere near their body. For that matter, neither do most men… Tristran had a dagger... She was naked and the sounds she was making…I swear, Dagonet, I have never heard a woman make such noises before. And the way she was wrapped around him…" I shudder at the images emblazoned in my mind and look at Dagonet, waiting for confirmation that I am not crazy; he is staring at me, wide-eyed and slack mouthed. I shrug and continue.

"He noticed me in the doorway. I am not sure…I mean, I know he knew I was there but he didn't react, Dagonet. Didn't do anything…well, anything except what he had already been doing. She, well, she seemed to be enjoying herself too greatly to pay notice to anything else. At least until he paused. Then she noticed. I almost think she snarled at me, Dag, I really do. Like some animal. Then she threw a mug at my head… She missed. Not by much, but she missed."

I pause and rub the side of my head where the contents from the thrown mug had splashed my hair. I brought the fingers to my nose and inhaled…smelled like mead, but one could never be certain.

Dagonet relates

I could not believe that Galahad had actually witnessed Tristran with a woman. And lived to tell. I don't think the boy realizes how close to death he came this night. I am not certain but I am guessing that the only thing that saved him was…well…actually I am not at all certain what saved him.

What in all of Sarmatia is he doing? I notice he is rubbing the side of his head and smelling his hand. Is this some strange Izyghen custom? I have seen Lancelot do something similar... I run my hand over my face in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Rubbing my jaw, I am not quite certain what to say to the boy. I feel as though I should warn him about Tristran, but if he did not skin the boy in the doorway…

I stop rubbing my jaw when I hear snickers from the doorway, accompanied by various choking and gagging noises. I look up and realize that the rest of the Knights are standing there and, judging by the mix of expressions, have been for some time.

The ones who can speak are cajoling Galahad with various remarks about his bedroom prowess, or lack thereof. I have tuned them out, not wanting to listen to them tease the boy any longer. Besides, I am pondering how Tristran will react when he finds out everyone knows. Because he will. Not due to any great scouting and snooping abilities; simply because one (and most like more) of my brothers will not be able to keep their mouths shut. Oh no, Tristran will not be happy about this.

As if on cue, the Shadow appears from around the corner. He moves toward the group with a silent, cold glare and they collectively take a large step back. His privacy has been intruded upon; he is irritated. I am on-guard as he is headed toward Galahad. I move forward slightly, silently letting Tristran know that I will step in to protect the boy if necessary. Our eyes meet for a second and I am reassured that he means the boy no physical harm. Tristran is aggravated but also knows Galahad's intrusion was not without purpose. That is what saved him – he was on an errand from Arthur and not simply being a snoop.

Stopping in front of Galahad, who, to his credit, has not slunk off to a corner to hide but who has tried, unsuccessfully, to become one with the stair he sits on, Tristran simply stands for a moment and glares at the other assembled Knights, backing them further away. He leans down so that his nose touches Galahad's and whispers something meant only for Galahad's ears. No matter how I strain, I am unable to make out the quiet, gravelly threat being conveyed. Galahad becomes impossibly paler. Don't vomit on him, Galahad. Oh Goddess, please don't let him vomit on Tristran… I know that if he does that, all bets are off and I will not be able to get to him before Tristran cuts his throat; the only person I have seen vomit on Tristran and survive was Bors' youngest daughter.

Tristran must be done with whatever he has to say because Galahad is slowly nodding his head. He stands back to his full height, throws another cold glare at the gawkers and, turning to leave, gives me a slight nod before vanishing back down the alleyway. I stand rigid and silently contemplate the myriad of things Tristran might have chosen to threaten Galahad with should the latter even contemplate invading his privacy again.

I sigh deeply and return to the present when I hear the cries of "Galahad!" "Dagonet!" and hear the unmistakable sound of vomit splashing the paving stones. It is going to be a long fifteen years indeed.