The wooden, horse-drawn wagon was everything Jack had feared it would be- bumpy, loud and smelly- but it couldn't be any worse on the Doctor than being dragged along behind Jack on the road. He sat next to the still-unconscious Time Lord, trying absentmindedly to mop the blood off of his own head with a handkerchief he'd found in one of the Doctor's pockets. He was also desperately trying to remember his early Earth history. As far as he could remember, even people who thought there really had been a King Arthur didn't think there was a real Camelot-called-Camelot. So, that being the case, where exactly were he and the Doctor being taken?

With that thought in his head, he was less surprised to see the electric street lamps as they entered the city than he might otherwise have been. Once he'd noticed the street lamps, he also noticed that the men in the gatehouses (also in plate armor) were carrying what appeared to be some form of laser pistol. It was bizarre. If they had the technology for laser weapons, why were they still riding horses and wearing plate mail? The streets, aside from the lamps, were the very picture of a grimy medieval city from the movies. If the people in charge in this place really had high technology, they weren't spreading it around much.

Ancelyn pulled back and level with the cart. "Your head looks better, Sir Jack," he said. "I did not ask- have you ever visited the Shining City before?"

If this dirt-covered, squalid place was a Shining City, Jack felt that Ancelyn needed better standards. "My first time," he answered, biting his tongue. He had a strong suspicion that this might be a case of warlords hoarding the technology for their own benefit, while their people suffered. He was trying to withhold judgement until he had a better sense for this place. There was one thing he was utterly certain of, however: this was not Earth, not in any time period he'd ever studied.

"Ah, then you are a lucky man!" Ancelyn said, smiling. He seemed entirely unaware of his guest's unease. "There is no city like it on God's earth."

"Is this where the king lives, then?" Jack called out. The streets were noisy, and bumpier here than outside the city. It made carrying on conversation difficult. He shifted the Doctor's head into his lap to try to cushion it from the bouncing of the cart.

"Not here," Ancelyn said, a touch condescendingly. "You will know it when you see it." Grinning, he spurred his horse forward, leaving Jack and the Doctor behind again.

Ancelyn was correct. A few minutes later, they turned a corner, and Jack became aware that he had fundamentally misunderstood something. The streets and houses they'd been riding through were not the Shining City of Camelot. They were passing through an undercity, mere slums on the outskirts. What he saw before him as they cleared the close-hanging medieval houses was a startling skyline of white-silver towers that gleamed in the setting sun. The complex was surrounded by a great black wall, which was itself surrounded by a deep trench. There was a bridge leading over the trench, and a gate through the wall. These gave the complex the vague appearance of a medieval castle, but it was much, much larger than any of the many castles that Jack'd visited during his exile in Britain. Furthermore, the towers were more reminiscent of New New York than Edinburgh.

They were stopped at the gatehouse before the bridge, and Jack could see Ancelyn speaking with the gate guard. This guard pulled some sort of device off his belt. Ancelyn presented his shield, and the guard pointed the device- presumably a scanner of some sort, then- at it, and waved Ancelyn on. The guard looked distastefully in Jack's direction as they passed. Whether his disdain was reserved for Jack or for the dirty wooden cart, Jack did not know. They passed over the bridge, and into the city.

Ancelyn pulled back again. "The houses of healing are very close; we might go there if you think your friend needs aid in haste. But I would suggest we go to the court, instead. The king has his own healers there, and it may be that his wizards and mages will be better able to unravel whatever sorcery it is that afflicts your friend."

Jack nodded, and reached down to check the Doctor's pulse- it was still steady, four beats. "I think he's as stable as he's going to be, so if you think it's better to continue, that's fine. But I'd rather not travel too much farther- all this bouncing can't be good for him." He wondered briefly whether the "wizards and mages" were the engineers responsible for the glass and metal of this very modern-looking city- which was still peopled by people who looked like they were dressed up for a BBC period drama.

Ancelyn looked down at the Doctor with a touch of concern. "It is not so far. Look, you can see the towers of the king's castle, which soar above all others in the city."

He pointed, and Jack noticed a few towers that seemed a bit taller than the others. It was difficult to tell exactly how far away it really was, but he supposed the Doctor could make it that far. "Lead the way," Jack said.


There was another guard and gatehouse as they entered the castle complex. All the security was starting to make Jack nervous, particularly since he might well have to outrun a witch burning squad after the healers got a good look at the Doctor. After scanning Ancelyn's shield, they were allowed to ride into a largish courtyard. Ancelyn jumped off his horse and handed it off to a solicitous-looking young man, who disappeared with the horse and returned a few moments later with two other men and a stretcher. Jack helped them transfer the Doctor onto it and, at last, reclaimed his coat. Ancelyn came over to the back of the cart, and offered him a hand down.

"We should see my lord first," Ancelyn said, with a touch of apology in his voice. "and then we will see you and your companion to the healers. But I fear he would be vexed with me if I were to usher strangers into his house without allowing him some word of welcome. I promise that the servants will be most gentle in conveying him, though- it will be exactly as if he were ensconced already in his bed." Ancelyn looked earnestly up at him.

Jack sighed, and took Ancelyn's hand, jumping down off the cart. He doubted that Ancelyn's people could do much for the Doctor's alien physiology anyhow. Still, he wasn't thrilled at having him paraded around when he was in this condition. "If it's necessary," he said, to Ancelyn, his voice more snappish than he meant it to be. Ancelyn recoiled. With some effort, Jack put a smile on his face. "Sorry," he said. "Long day. Let's meet your king."

The corridor that they walked through was wide, tall, and lavishly decorated. Jack kept pace with Ancelyn as they followed the stretcher-bearers up to an enormous, gilded door. Ancelyn stepped forward. "Hail, good knights," he said, and clenched his fist across his chest in salute. "I met strange travelers along the road- they were sore in need of help, and I thought it best to bring them here. They come to offer greetings to my lord, and beg his aid. I am Ancelyn ap Gwalchmai, and I have earned the right to the ear of my king."

One of the guards shifted his stance, and saluted back at Ancelyn. "I am Amlyn ap Bradwen, and I know you, Ancelyn. You are in good favor with our king, and he will see you." It had the cadence of a ritual utterance. The other guard touched a panel, and the enormous doors swung in, revealing an enormous hall. Jack could see, at the far end, a raised platform, with a throne.

The first guard touched his throat, and spoke. His voice echoed through the hall, obviously amplified. "Sir Ancelyn ap Gwalchmai, returned from his travels. He comes in the company of-" he paused a moment, looking at Ancelyn.

"Sir Jack ap Harkness, Captain of the company of Torchwood, and his companion," Ancelyn supplied.

"Sir Jack ap Harkness, Captain of the company of Torchwood," the guard repeated. "And his companion, taken ill on the road. They come to seek counsel and aid from your majesty."

Ancelyn and the stretcher-bearers moved forward into the hall, and Jack followed. The doors swung silently closed behind them. The hall was lined with people, both standing and sitting, and they gawked at Jack as he passed. As they reached the other end of the hall, Jack was surprised to see that the man sitting in the throne was a teenager- no older than 16. He sat stiffly in the enormous chair, a golden circlet laid over a mop of honey-brown curls. Held loosely at his side was an enormous sword which shone strangely in the light, as though it were more than mere steel.

Ancelyn turned to Jack, and spoke quietly. "Sir Jack- this is my lord, King Arthur Pendragon, High King over all Britain." Jack was not surprised to discover that there was an Arthur in Camelot. It was starting to feel as though he were trapped inside a weirdly anachronistic reenactment of somebody's 33rd century idea of Arthurian romances.

"Ancelyn!" Arthur cried, with obvious joy. "You are returned home to us once more. And you bring us guests."

"Yes, Majesty," Ancelyn replied, formally. "I met them on the road, and thought that it would please you to meet them. It may be that you can help them, as well- as you can see, they are in need of aid."

The king peered down at the Doctor, held at waist level by the stretcher bearers. Jack had wiped the worst of the blood off of him, but he still looked deathly pale. The Doctor was usually a presence, a force of nature, and it was painful to see him looking so small and still. Jack closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself calm.

When he opened them again, he saw Arthur looking at him. The king's eyes were a pale blue, and it was a disconcerting sensation to be so closely examined by them. "I have never heard of this 'Torchwood'," Arthur declared. "Where is it?"

"Very far away, your Majesty," Jack said, and smiled. This was not his first time dealing with royalty. "I will tell you about it, if you like."

"Why have you come to our lands?" Arthur asked, his voice filled with curiosity. "Have you some business here?"

Jack shook his head. "We never intended to come here- we were traveling elsewhere, when our... ship was damaged. Sir Ancelyn was kind enough to bring us here, so that my friend might rest and recover."

"Has he a name, your friend?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "Is he your servant, or perhaps a brother-in-arms?"

"Neither," Jack shook his head. He was barely able to keep a smirk off his lips at the idea of the Doctor as his servant. "He is a scholar. He is known by many names, but if you were to ask him, he would tell you to call him 'the Doctor'."

Arthur scowled. "'The Doctor'? That is no sort of name. Has he not a real one?"

"If he does, I don't know it. Hopefully, he'll wake up soon, and you can take it up with him. Your Majesty." Jack tacked the honorific on at the last moment.

"Hopefully sooner, rather than later. Well, I will not keep you standing here, when you and your 'Doctor' should so clearly be taken to the healers' beds. If you are well enough, though, I hope that you at least will dine with us tonight, Sir Jack. I would hear more of this 'Torchwood'." He nodded, and it was a clear dismissal. Arthur hesitated a moment, though, and then called out, "Ancelyn! See our guests to their rest, and then attend us. We have been too long without your company."

"Yes, Majesty," Ancelyn murmured, and then he herded Jack out of the hall.

"You're in the king's favor," Jack said to him, once they were clear of the hall.

"His Majesty has few companions at all close to his own age," Ancelyn said, a trifle defensively. "He finds those few he has to be very dear to him. I fear to say, though, that the king's foster-brother, Kai, disapproves of me. He feels that I am a bad influence, and sends me out on long patrols. I think that he hopes that distance will make his royal brother like me less. I suspect that if I were to spend more time here, it would sooner cure the king of his liking for me, but Kai is not a subtle man."

"Are you?" Jack asked, impudently.

"A subtle man?"

"A bad influence." Jack wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"It derives from an unfortunate incident involving some beehives and our liberal interpretations of the requirements of lance practice," Ancelyn said, with as much dignity as he could muster. "We were much younger, at the time, and I would not say that I was the sole instigator." Ancelyn paused, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps Kai would not hold it against me so, if it had not been his horse that we borrowed."