Title: Black troubles
Author: Narnaith
Pairings: None
PG: 13
Genre: Action/Adventure/Drama
Disclaimer: I wish I would but I don't own Arthur and the knights.
Summary: A new horse means a lot of trouble for Lancelot.
Feedback is much appreciated :-)
Black troubles
Chapter 1
Nocturnal silence covered the fortress at Hadrain's Wall. Nearly each inhabitant whether Roman, Briton or Sarmatian was sleeping.
Only a dark figure running across the yard disturbed this temporary peace.
Meanwhile Lancelot lay in his bed in fitful slumber. At last he had fallen asleep after tossing and turning for hours. Worries and perhaps anxiety had bothered him the whole day and half the night. His sleep should not be very long this night.
A loud knocking on the door and repeated shouts brought him abruptly back to reality. Immediately alert he sat upright his hands instinctively going over his shoulders to grab his swords. A sharp pain shot through his left upper arm reminding him the last battle two days ago.
His fingers however didn't find the hilts of the twin swords at their usual place. Confused he looked around to find out where they had gone. Slowly he realised that he was sitting on his own bed and his blades were placed beside him on the floor as usual when the knights spent the night in the safety of the fortress.
Suddenly the knocking stoped and the door flew open. Jols nearly fell into the small room. "Lancelot, wake up, it's urgent!"
"I am awake! And if you want to grow old don't sneak up on sleeping people like that especially if these people are knights!" At once he remembered the time and in view of this something must have been happened. The worries that had bothered him the last day returned. "What's the matter? What happened?" Lancelot barely dared to ask this question.
"It's Toros, your horse! He has got a high fever and I'm afraid he won't survive this night!"
Jols had just announced these bad news when Lancelot jumped out of his bed and ran in wild haste towards the stables. His worst fear had become true.
On the way Lancelot's thoughts went back to the events two days ago.
Arthur and his knights had been on patrol looking for a gang of thieves who threatened each traveller on the road. Their search would not last too long.
Tristan who had been out scouting had returned, his hawk perched on his arm. "I found their camp. It's hidden in the woods in a hollow but not too far from the road", he had explained.
"How many are they and how can we get closer without drawing their attention to us?", Arthur had asked.
"Maybe 20, 25 at most. There is a small path running among the trees. If we use it, we will reach the back of the camp. They don't guard this path and so we will have the advantage of a surprise attack."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Bors had interrupted.
"All right. Tristan, you'll lead the way."
They had reached the camp in no time. The small path had led the group of Sarmatian knights to the back of the camp and as Tristan had already found out, it hadn't been guarded.
The thieves had been gathered around a fire bragging their last raid on a well-known Roman merchant dealer when suddenly all hell had broken out.
The knights had reach the camp in total silence avoiding being noticed by the criminals. But after arriving their destination they had stormed the
hollow with loud shouts. The thieves barely had had time to reach for their weapons when their first comrades had fallen to the ground dying or already dead.
Arthur and his knights had crossed the camp on horseback trying to decimate their enemies by trampling them down. Then Tristan had taken out his bow and had fired his arrows with fatal precision.
Dagonet, Bors and Gawain had dismounted from their horses to fight their opponents on foot.
Tristan, Galahad and Arthur had continued their deathly ride through the camp, now also using their swords to bring their enemies down.
Lancelot had just turned his horse around when suddenly one of the ciminals had managed to jump on the horse.
The blade of a small but sharp knife had flashed in his hand. Lancelot had sensed the deathly danger in his back and had thrown himself against his opponent and by his swing both men had fallen to the ground. Lancelot had landed on top of his enemy.
A stiffled moan had escaped from his lips when he had felt the blade penetrating his left upper arm. Ignoring the pain in his arm he had stood up, his twin swords in his hands. The thief had grabbed his large sword lying behind him. Burning with rage the man had held his weapon in front of him and had run towards Lancelot.
Lancelot only had taken a single step aside using his right blade he had sent the man to the ground again. Lancelot then had aimed for his opponent's neck and with one swift motion with his twin swords he had decapitated his enemy. "Well, that was nearly far too easy", he had commented on the criminal's fatal mistake. A quick look around had told him that the fight had almost ended.
Arthur now also fighting in close combat had brought Excalibur up to cut his opponent's throat. Bors and Dagonet had slaughtered every thief who had gotten too close to the two knights. Tristan had picked off a last attacker who had been foolish enough to try to get closer to him to make use of his axe. Galahad and Gawain had brought down their enemies nearly at the same time. Only a few criminals had been still standing.
"Put down your weapons and we will spare your live!" Arthur had announced.
Having witnessed their comrades fate had taught them that they never could beat the Sarmatian knights. One by one the criminals had put their blades down.
"Dagonet and Bors, make sure that our catch has no chance to ecape! There is a nice little dungeon waiting for them." While Bors and Dagonet had been guarding the prisoners the rest of the knights had resheathed their weapons. Tristan had begun to remove his arrows from the deads to replenish his quiver.
Gawain had already gathered the most part of the horses which had followed their natural instinct during the fight and had tried to get away to safety. Lancelot had let his gaze wander over the mayhem in the hollow to find out were Toros had gone. He had found his black stallion close to the place were this stupid criminal had dared to attack him. He had walked across the battle field and had taken hold of the horse's reins. But when he had tried to take the stallion across the hollow to join his fellow knights he had noticed that Toros had avoided to put his weight on his right front leg. Immediately Lancelot had kneeled down to have a look at the leg. He had found a deep wound covered with mud and dirt which was bleeding freely. Toros had started to become nervous and had tried to escape from Lancelot's grip. "Shh, easy, it's all right, boy. Let me have a look at it. I promise you I will not hurt you."
Lancelot hadn't noticed that Arthur and Galahad had crossed the battlefield to see what had kept Lancelot back from joining the others.
"Is he hurt?", Galahad had asked.
"Yes, he has got a deep gash on his leg. There is a lot of dirt and mud inside. I think someone of these stupid bastards must have pierced him with a blade and he fell to the ground. He managed to get up again but now he barely can walk."
"It's a luck that we aren't far from home. Do you think he will manage to make it back to the fortress?"
"If we don't have to hurry he will make it." With these words Lancelot had arisen. A flash of pain had crossed his face when his wounded arm had knocked against his horse's chest. Only then Arthur had noticed Lancelot's arm bleeding.
"What about your arm? You're wounded, too. And don't tell me it's Toros' blood for I won't believe you."
Lancelot had looked down at his torn sleeve and the deep cut in his skin. The blood was still seeping out.
"It's just a scratch. Nothing to worry about", Lancelot had assured. But Arthur knew his friend well enough to see that the wound had been bothering Lancelot and that he never would admit that.
"Galahad, get Tristan. And you, my friend, sit down!", Arthur had ordered. Reluctantly Lancelot had sat down on a tree stump standing behind him. But a glance at Arthur's face had told him that it was pointless to start a discussion about that topic.
Galahad and Tristan had returned closely followed by Gawain who had wanted to see what had been going on there.
Tristan had kneeled down in front of Lancelot his saddle bag beside him.
"I have to tear your sleeve to have a look at this cut and to bandage it."
"Get on with it, but I tell you it's just a small scratch. Toros needs your help, not me!"
When the cloth of Lancelot's tunic had been removed it had turned out that the gash had been deeper than Lancelot had tought.
"I'm sorry, but this cut will require some stitches. But it'll have to wait till we are in the fortress. For now I'll bandage it to stop the bleeding. Then I will have a look at Toros", Tristan had suggested.
"Do what you want but BE CAREFUL!"
When the bandage at Lancelot's arm had been done Tristan had examined Toros' leg. It had seemed the animal had sensed that the scout had just wanted to help him. Tristan had gently cleaned and bandaged the wound.
"It looks pretty bad. I tried to clean it but it's possible that this wound will become infected", Tristan had proclaimed.
Finally Arthur had given the signal for his Sarmatian knights and their prisoners to set off.
While the rest of the knights had taken the criminals to the fortress to hand them over to the Roman authorities, Lancelot accompanied by Galahad had followed taken his stallion by the reins and accompanied by Galahad. It had taken them a lot of time to arrive the fort at Badon Hill because they had had to rest frequently but none of them had talked. Just the essentiel information had been exchanged between the two knights. Serious worries had bothered Lancelot the entire way to the fortress. And these worries had grown until now even more.
After the cut in Lancelot's arm had been stitched he had made his way to the stables to check on Toros. The black stallion had continued been still avoiding putting any weight on the injured leg.
During the next two days Lancelot had stood by his horse the entire time. He had even slept in the stables the first night.
When he had checked the wound the following morning he had noticed that the leg had been hot and swollen. Horrified Lancelot had recognized the symptoms of a dangerous infection.
They had treated the wound with medicinal plants but the infection had only become worse. In the late evening Arthur had ordered that Lancelot should spend this night in his bed. Lancelot had only agreed when Jols had promised him that he would wake up Lancelot if Toros would got worse.
Unfortuntately that event had come to pass.
When Lancelot reached the stables he found his stallion lying down on the hay ground covered with sweat and tortured by shivering fits. The infection of the leg had gotten worse.
Jols arrived trying to catch his breath. Lancelot looked up from where he kneeled. "Jols, get Tristan! Hurry up!"
After Jols' deaprture back towards the knights' quaters Lancelot turned his attention back to Toros: "Come on, it's not time to lie down! And it's no time to die on me now more than ever!" He patted the horse's neck to calm him down and to motivate him to stand up. But the animal didn't react.
Finally Tristan appeared. One look at the horse told him that the infection would be deadly and all attempts to help would be in vain. The inflammation had developped into a blood poisoning.
Tristan approached Lancelot to tell him the terrible truth. He placed a hand on Lancelot's right shoulder. "Nobody can help him. His blood is poisoned. All we can do for him now is to release him from this agony."
Lancelot suddenly realized that Tristan was right. "I'll do it!", he whispered almost inaudibly. Tristan nodded silently, drew his dagger and passed it to Lancelot. The scout understood that this was very important for Lancelot.
His dark eyes filled with tears Lancelot took the dagger. "I'm so sorry, boy. Farewell!" With these words he pierced the stallion's heart with one quick movement. The horse was dead immediately.
Lancelot droped the weapon and disappeared before Tristan or Jols could say a word to comfort him.
Tbc