Arthur has come to discover a very important fact of life.
It doesn't always work of course, and there are times he doesn't even need it. But he's learned that, more often than not, if he gets thrown into a wall or battered round the head, it might be a good idea to keep his eyes shut just that second or so longer. The world apparently doesn't like him watching when it cleans up whatever mess he got himself into this time. And if he's lucky, his enemy might have tripped over a root, or had an unfortunate meeting with a tree branch. Perhaps a sword or spear came flying out of the ether to save his sorry hide. In which case he'll find the nearest guard and clap them on the shoulder, praising them for a job well done and deliberately ignoring any protests. Because if there's one thing he's learnt other than that his personal angel likes to remain unseen; it's that it hates him acting suspicious.
So, Arthur loudly proclaims his good luck, and lets his feet carry him from the scene of disaster, wondering if next time he'll risk cracking his eyes open just a slither or whether the fates will give him up for a lost cause and finally turn their back.