THREE
For somebody used to sleeping in the softest of beds, it ought to be difficult to sleep sprawled out on the hard ground in a nest of blankets, but that hadn't been a problem. Being so tired, Arthur had crashed out into a deep sleep. No amount of hard floor or small stones or silverfish were going to stop his descent into dreamland.
At the start of the night he had lain flat out on his back, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his belly as he outlined the plan for the following day to Merlin who lay beside him, though there was a good foot and a half between them despite sharing a blanket. Arthur got too hot when he slept apparently, and Merlin preferred his space. That was understandable, never having shared his bed, nor ever being likely to.
That jibe had earned Arthur a sharp kick in the shin and the loss of his blanket as Merlin rolled himself up in them and told him to 'shut up and go to sleep'.
Serious consideration had been put towards refining his plan further just to irritate Merlin a bit more, but Arthur had refrained, aware that Hunith was sleeping soundly a little way away.
It was now nearly morning. Dawn had begun to break, lighting up Ealdor in the white rays of a new sun beneath a pale pink and blue sky. Arthur snored loudly on his side, arm slung over Merlin's shoulder. Merlin snored also, but like everything he did, much more quietly than Arthur, laid out on his side, utterly dead to the world. Neither of them had stirred when Hunith stepped over them carefully and quietly on her way out to feed the pigs. She had paused at the door a moment and regarded the two of them cuddled up together with a fond smile. Despite all the bluster and bravado from Arthur, and the snarking and quips from Merlin, she was glad that Merlin had such a friend as Arthur, and vice versa. They truly were two sides of the same coin.
The click of the door latch as she left caused Merlin to stir. He shifted his head against the 'pillow' and blinked. It took a moment to register where he was, and the arm hanging limply over his shoulder. With a frown, he turned his head, rolling his shoulder that he could see behind and came almost face to face with Arthur's snoring, drooling, open-mouthed face.
"Oh, that is disgusting!"
His outburst shocked Arthur awake. The king blinked blearily as Merlin rolled over and shoved him away.
"Wha-?"
"Get off!"
Confused, Arthur found himself rolling over, hit in the face by Merlin's pillow – or more accurately, his balled up jacket – as his servant wriggled free and crawled away to stand. "Merlin!"
"I told you!" Merlin shot back, a safe distance from anything that may be thrown by the king with any accuracy so early in the day, "I like my space!"
Head still a little fuzzy, Arthur propped himself up on one elbow and ran a hand through his messy hair. "I wouldn't hug you by choice!" He returned with incredulity, "I was asleep!"
"If this has to happen again, I'm sleeping the other way around."
Arthur frowned, and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand. "What about the pillow?"
"What pillow?" Merlin scoffed. "The one you hogged all night? I think I'll manage without it, thanks."
"Fine... What makes you think there's going to be an 'again'?"
"I don't know!" Merlin gave an exaggerated shrug. "It's a long way back to Camelot. If we find the horses, there's no guarantee that we'll find our supplies and bedrolls with them."
"Fine." Arthur repeated. "But don't expect the blanket."
Merlin, leaning on the back of the chair that Arthur had occupied for most of the previous evening, opened his mouth to retort, cut off when the door flew open and Hunith darted into the house.
She closed it quickly behind her, and glanced over her shoulder at where Arthur lay. "Merlin-" She turned, surprised to find him up and on the other side of the house. "Lot's men are coming!"
Both he and Arthur shocked into action; Merlin snatching up the tunic Hunith had found for Arthur, and Excalibur, tossing them to the king as he scrambled to his feet, and grabbed his own sword.
Hunith took his arm and directed him away from the front door. "Out the back. Towards the piglet pen."
He nodded his understanding and made for the back door, Arthur following him.
The both of them streaked through the silent village, taking short cuts through gardens and over fences. At the hill from the woods the thunder of hooves could be heard, the jingling of maille and tack. King and servant swung left suddenly, clambering through the railings of the small pen used for raising piglets to where an older man was waiting, waving them to him.
Arthur recognised him from the time spent in the village during Kanen's raids, though he did not know his name. Merlin, however, knew him as Peter and was glad to see him.
"Your highness!" Peter called out to Arthur, "Merlin! Here!" He was directing them to the hidden space below ground in which they had used to hide their grain.
Both king and servant dropped down into it without a word and lay still while Peter replaced the boards to obscure the hole and kick hay over the top of them.
Arthur and Merlin lay there in silence, looking up at the underside of the false floor between the rough ash beams, panting to regain lost breath. They could hear very little of what was going on above ground, but could feel the vibration of approaching horses through the earth at their backs. Earth that felt particularly cold and itchy to Arthur's still shirtless back. He held his tunic balled up at his chest, sword laid along his body in a manner that he found couldn't help but feel as though he were already entombed.
Peter would have moved away from the piglet pen, he imagined, as not to draw attention to it. Arthur scanned the underside of the boards for any sign of displaced dust, any shake of footsteps or activity. The vibrations beneath had ceased. Now the shout of muffled voices reached his ears.
Beside him, Merlin swallowed, and shifted nervously, his shoulder bumping against Arthur's unintentionally. "They know we're here." He whispered quietly, worried. "In the village."
"Suspect." Arthur corrected him. "They don't know."
Merlin didn't say anything to that, though Arthur knew what was on his mind. If it should be discovered that anyone in the village had helped them, knowing who Arthur was... If it was discovered that the villagers were harbouring them...
Arthur shifted his hand and gripped Merlin's forearm reassuringly, before returning it to his sword's hilt.
The hole was absolutely freezing. It was all Arthur could do to stop his teeth from chattering. There was no way he could put his tunic on. There was barely space to move, let alone get dressed without making noise and attracting Lot's men.
"... Never should have come here." Merlin murmured beside him, shaking his head.
"Merlin." Arthur drew his servant round to look at him, and lifted a finger to his lips. Merlin did as he was told and fell silent, though he did not appear at all easy.
Arthur couldn't blame him. If anything should happen to Ealdor, to the people, to Hunith, then Merlin would be utterly devastated. He himself would... do something. He didn't know what, but the thought of anything happening to the village frightened him more than he could admit.
Through the boards, Arthur strained his ears, just able to hear the enemy riders questioning the villagers. Those that he could hear were being evasive in their answers. All until -
He squeezed his eyes shut, Merlin holding his breath beside him. Both of them could hear Hunith's voice. She was quite close by the sound of it as she acknowledged that two men had passed through the village. She told them that the villagers had done what they always did and provided the travellers with food and water and sent them on their way. Who they were and where they were going was of no consequence in a hospitable village such as Ealdor, and should they wish it, the men of the patrol were more than welcome to replenish their own supplies also before moving on.
They heard nothing further, though they strained their ears. All seemed to be silent. Arthur tried to hear, needed to know what was happening. Any moment now he feared the screams of the villagers, that some little thing could give away Hunith's story as false. He had visions of the boards above being ripped up and himself and Merlin pulled out to be captured or executed. He would fight back, but even he, without his knights, could not hope to defeat an entire Essetir patrol.
His arms felt as though they were going to drop off. He was so cold! Concerned, he looked to Merlin at his side, noting how his manservant shivered so. If he himself was cold, even if he was half-naked, then Merlin must be positively freezing. Maybe the idiot did have a shirt on, but there was a total of zero meat on his angular bones. Inevitably he would be frozen.
Awkwardly, Arthur tossed his unworn tunic at Merlin, who nodded gratefully as it landed on his head, and draped it over his chest as a blanket. It was so large on him that it couldn't really serve as anything else. It may afford Merlin some extra warmth in this hole, but it would do them no favours if they were discovered. The longer it took for the silence to break, the more apprehensive Arthur became.
A chicken began squawking nearby, loud flapping of feathers preluding the first crash of a door and the worried cry of a woman no doubt pulled from her home.
Arthur winced. They were searching the village. He knew that Lot was a suspicious, ruthless king. Arthur feared what lengths may be gone to in order to find evidence of his presence.
His heart skipped a beat. His throat felt dry. Evidence such as the bedding spread out on the ground of a house lived in by a single woman, and a set of muddy, but very fine maille and pauldron draped over the back of a chair at the kitchen table.
He threw a glance at Merlin. His friend had gone very still. Merlin lay on his back clutching the tunic to his chest, his eyes shut. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat, but he did not speak, nor move. He appeared to be listening.
Arthur realised why, goosebumps rising on his skin at the sudden halt in the gentle snuffles of piglets above. The little animals squealed suddenly, a patter of light trotters the sound of them all rushing to one side of the pen away from the fence.
There was a shout, almost above them – one of the patrolmen – Arthur's shoulders tensed. The man hadn't said anything of substance, that may denote suspicion, but he appeared to be calling some of his fellows over. From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin swallow, and turn his head away. He missed the tiny flash of gold against the shadowy earth, beneath his manservant's cheek.
"Oi!" The patrolman shouted, the volume shocking Arthur with exactly how close he was to the pen. "Over there!"
The king drew a breath. Merlin held his.
Another voice, authoritative and familiar as that of the commander who had ordered the partol after them in the first rang out:
"With me!"
Running feet could be heard, the call of horses and jingle of tack as men mounted up. Arthur wished that he could see what was happening. From the thunder of hooves, the resumed vibration of the ground beneath his back, the patrol were passing. They were leaving the village.
He released the breath he did not realise he held with a vibration of his lips, and turned his head to his servant.
Merlin was blinking back at him, that curious expression of innocence plastered all over his face that he sometimes took on for no apparent reason. "That was lucky."
"Mm." Arthur didn't know what else to say. It was lucky. Something had drawn the patrol off, though down here he couldn't see or say for sure what it had been. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it.
He took a breath, about to ask for his shirt back when the hay covering the boards was pushed aside and the boards themselves lifted.
Both king and servant blinked at the sudden glare of bright sunlight on their faces. Arthur feared there may have even been a squeak in there somewhere, but chose to pretend that it had never happened.
His vision cleared to reveal the familiar faces of several of Ealdor's villagers staring back at him with fearful, yet curious expressions on their faces.
Despite being a king, he didn't really like being a spectacle. He couldn't be aware of exactly how much of one he was at that moment. The revered and mighty king of Camelot, sprawled out half-naked at the bottom of a hole in the ground beside the equally well known and tatty form of his personal manservant. He didn't really have time to think on it as two sets of hands grasped his forearms and hauled him from the ground.
The craggy, weathered face of Peter looked back at him, concerned. "Sire. Are you well?"
Arthur nodded and looked round to see Merlin being lifted from the hole in a similar manner to his own less than elegant exit. "I'm fine." He answered in as close to his composed and kingly tone as he could manage. "Thank you."
Peter looked pleased. "It is our pleasure, Sire. We owe you our lives after your assistance against Kanen."
"Really. You don't owe me anything." Arthur insisted, holding his hand up. "It is I who owe all of you. It is more than I can ask of you to put yourselves in danger for my sake. As long as I remain in your village, that is what you are doing."
"Really, Sire." Peter returned levelly. "It is no trouble to us. Our village falls within Lot's lands, but our loyalty lies with you."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered villagers. It was touching to hear, but Arthur shook his head. "That is very dangerous talk." He told them, though there was no reprimand, nor anything stern in his voice. "Especially in these parts. I am grateful to you, to all of you for your silence, but I cannot stay any longer and put your village in danger." He threw a glance at Merlin. "As soon as we find our horses, Merlin and I will gather our belonging and leave."
Kind as he was being, there was a definite finality to Arthur's tone that none would argue with. Not even Merlin this morning, it seemed. Though that could have less to do with agreement and more to do with being torn from his bed and shoved in a hole in the ground, but Arthur chose to see it as a private blessing and not question it.
Staying in Ealdor was not an option. Not when it brought danger down on the village and its people. He and Merlin had to go as soon as they feasibly could.
Seeing that no further excitement was forthcoming, the villagers began to disperse back to their homes and daily routines. Hunith grasped Merlin's arm and took it to walk with him back to their home. She chucked him on the cheek fondly, and offered him a proud, affectionate smile as they went.
Exactly what that was in aid of, Arthur couldn't guess. He moved to follow, but paused, stayed by something he had glimpsed from the corner of his eye. Frowning, he glanced over his shoulder towards the path out of the village into the trees to the North. The one taken by the patrol as it was now indented with multiple hoof prints.
A thin wisp of smoke rose from the woods some way from the village. It appeared as though risen from a camp fire.
Arthur stared at it, uncertain. That had not been there before, he was sure. Then again, running half-nude through the village at the crack of dawn to be sequestered in a freezing hole beneath a pig pen wasn't conducive to real awareness of his surroundings.
Still... He watched the smoke rising over the trees, eyes narrowed a little in thought. He was sure that it had not been there.
He could swear that it hadn't.
… Couldn't he?
The patrol had moved on after spending a short time searching the woods for the source of the smoke. According to Luke, one of the village's younger farmers (a young man who was quite handy with a quarter staff, Arthur recalled) they had headed North along the border. That came as both a relief and a worry to Arthur. They would no doubt be doubling back around, trying to intercept him as he made a run for it back to Camelot's lands. However, the patrol didn't know that he knew what they didn't know. Namely that he was still in the village, and that he knew what they were trying to do. It was good to be a step ahead.
So he and Merlin made their way through the woods to the South of Ealdor, back the way that they had come towards the ridge, and freedom. The patrol must have spent much of the previous evening, and probably the night searching the woods. The undergrowth had been crushed flat, and hooves had turned the mud either side of the river to soup where they had crossed.
Arthur led the way this time, sword in hand as he crept across the smashed ferns and nightshades. He moved as fleetly and silently as a wolf stalking its prey, the great hunter that he was. Merlin meandered along behind him, stepping softly, but still cracking twigs and rustling leaves beneath his badly coordinated feet. He was trying, but even his best attempts at moving silently rendered all of Arthur's efforts redundant. It was a wonder they caught anything when they went out hunting.
As he moved, Arthur put all of his valuable hunting skills to good use, scanning the area for any sign of enemies, or the horses. It was no easy task. Such a mess had been made of the woodland floor by the patrol overnight that making out any individual or specific horse became an utterly impossible task.
They had crossed the small bridge near the river and began making their way up towards the bracken path ('Great. More adders.') when Arthur caught a faint crack nearby. Automatically he grabbed Merlin and flung him against a tree to the right.
Surprised, Merlin threw a glance at his king, but kept his voice low at the sight of Arthur peering out from around another tree a few feet away. "What is it?"
Arthur raised a finger to his lips, and flattened himself back against the rough, mossy bark of his own tree.
It was a few seconds more before Merlin sensed what Arthur had, a few more before they both heard what they had sensed. Voices, and approaching footsteps.
"They have to be found." A rough voice, similar to that of the bandit who had harped on about the cave echoed through the trees to their ears. " We don't have a choice."
"Of course." A second voice, also familiar reached them, before giving what sounded like a suppressed yawn. "Do you have any idea how much he'll fetch? The king of Camelot? We catch the slavers, they'll give their right arms for such a prize."
"Forget the slavers. You seen the bounty Lot's put on his head?" The first asked with a chuckle. "Wants it for a bauble to decorate his castle wall."
"Hefty sum, is it?"
"... A king's ransom."
The pair of them guffawed with laughter before the sound of their footsteps halted a few feet from the trees where Arthur and Merlin stood in apprehensive silence.
"What about the other one?" A loud hack and an exaggerated spit onto the forest floor could be heard. Merlin made a disgusted face. Arthur did not react. The bandit went on. "That skinny one won't fetch much from the slavers. I doubt Lot'll want him."
"Oh no? Didn't get a clear look at him, but I'd wager that he's the king's personal manservant. Arthur doesn't go anywhere without him. They're very close, I hear. Skinny he may be, but the boy is a real little workhorse. Has to be. The royal brat is very demanding."
"That streak of nothing is Merlin?"
Arthur cocked a glance at his manservant, half expecting a smug expression, or at least a raised eyebrow screaming silent 'told you so's' back at him, but Merlin's face held nothing of the sort. In fact he was staring at the ground, a deep frown on his face. If anything, Arthur would have to say that he looked more upset that they had mentioned him by name than smug that somebody thought him anything but lazy.
"I'd bet my life on it." The second bandit replied somewhat gleefully. With a swish of bracken, the two bandits moved off on a heading around to the left of the trees where Arthur and Merlin hid.
Hearing their steps, Arthur threw a look at Merlin, despairing to see the idiot had not moved and remained staring at the forest floor. He waved a hand, trying to get the sullen fool's attention, failing spectacularly. Merlin was too deep in thought to notice. Of all the times to start thinking!
Arthur changed tact and paused a moment to ensure that the bandits had started talking again to quietly call his manservant's name. "... Merlin."
No response.
Arthur made a face, and tried again. "Psst! Merlin!"
Still nothing. Not loud enough. Merlin was too distracted. Arthur cast about, locating a stray acorn on the ground near his feet. Quietly as he could manage, he scooped it up and threw it at Merlin. That got the idiot's attention, when it hit him in the cheek.
Shocked, Merlin looked up to see Arthur giving him the 'what is wrong with you?' face that was always more reminiscent of a constipated dog. At a loss to explain, Merlin gave an exaggerated shrug. Arthur rolled his eyes and began making hand signals.
Again Merlin shrugged, and mouthed the word 'What?'
With a quiet huff, but actively exaggerated body language, Arthur signalled again, more slowly and finished with a questioning look that should be clear enough in itself. 'Alright?'
Merlin responded with a confused face, and shook his head.
Arthur's lip curled in frustration and anger. He abandoned all pretence of cool command, jabbed a pointing finger to the undergrowth among the trees away to Merlin's right and mouthed very clearly, very purposefully 'GO THAT WAY.'
with a glance to his right, Merlin looked back at Arthur, and nodded his head in such a deliberate, clear and sarcastic manner that Arthur had half a mind to kill him himself before the bandits had the pleasure, and mouthed back 'O-KAY.'
Watching the irritating servant start away relatively quietly, Arthur cautiously peered around his own tree to the left. The two bandits were heading to their right, swinging around into the trees along from where he stood hidden. He hurried after Merlin and ducked down into the tall bracken before they could see him, tugging Merlin down after him by the hem of his scruffy old jacket .
Merlin landed with a thump on his backside, and turned quickly to snarl at Arthur, "Don't do that."
"Shhh." The king pointed through the bracken stalks towards the two pairs of dirty, scuffed boots that were heading purposefully towards them.
The bandits halted a short way from the bracken, and glanced about, just visible in shattered slashes of colour through the twirling fronds obscuring their prey. They were definitely searching... just not very effectively.
"Lot's men are going to try and get to them first." The first said in a deadpan, breaking the silence.
"Undoubtedly." The other agreed. "Lot don't want to pay out the bounty. He's a tight-fisted old sod."
"Shouldn't have put it out there, then. Everyone'll be looking for his highness for that amount of coin. The border will be sewn up tighter than a virgin's undies before nightfall. There's nowhere for him to run, and nowhere he can hide. The whole of Essetir will be out for his head. There's not a village this side of the ridge he can trust to take him in."
In the bracken, Arthur and Merlin glanced at once another.
Neither of them missed the bigger problem, though. By nightfall they would be more or less stuck. If there was a bounty on Arthur's head, then every thug, slaver, mercenary and general nutter out there would be on their way to stop him getting back into safe territory.
"If we find them, I want dibs on the beanpole." The spitting bandit chuckled quietly. "There's a pretty penny on him, too. Less mucky stuff there, seeing as Lot wants him alive. Don't blame him, really. Being so close to the king all the time, he's worth his weight in gold with the information he could be persuaded to let slip."
"... And Lot does like to be persuasive."
Beside him, Arthur saw Merlin tense.
"Come on."
The bandits started to move away.
"Better find them before the law does."
They crashed away through the woods, back towards the river and the bridge.
Once sure that they were gone and out of earshot, Arthur and Merlin stood up and brushed themselves down. More accurately, Arthur brushed himself down. Merlin gaped after the vanished bandits. He remained that way while Arthur began searching around in the bracken for his sword. Without warning, he let out an indignant huff and threw his hands in the air. "Great. Just perfect. Why do these things always happen to us?"
Arthur straightened and threw a cautious glance about the woods. "Calm down, Merlin."
"Calm down?" Merlin chuckled mirthlessly, staring at the king in disbelief. "You heard them. We're hunted men. There's going to be an army of bloodthirsty madmen standing between us and Camelot, after our heads for a bit of gold. That's if we don't go now, and have to make it all the way back to Camelot without horses or supplies. So either we get our heads chopped off and die, or we try and make it home and – guess what – die of starvation, thirst, exposure or, I don't know, exhaustion? Take your pick! There's plenty to choose from!"
"Will you shut up." Arthur hissed, scanning the woods warily. "There are bandits out there looking for us."
"How could I forget? To claim the bounty on our heads. A bounty, Arthur!"
"That's pretty standard for a king."
Merlin slapped his own forehead and made as if to turn away, only to whirl back round and resume his complaining. "But not for me! I'm a serving boy. It's a little disturbing to have people want to kill me for money. No, sorry." He corrected himself. "They want to kill you for money. Me, they want to drag back to Lot's castle and torture for information on where you keep your dirty socks. That's not the most noble secret to die defending, so excuse me for being a bit upset."
"Merlin." Arthur huffed, arms folded over his chest. "Stop whingeing for a minute and let me think."
"Oh, that's a new one. Careful you don't strain yourself."
"Shut up. We need to get over the border as soon as possible. There will be somewhere we can take shelter on the other side - one of the outlying villages, while we send word to Camelot. If you would stop being so melodramatic, we could get moving now before the army of bloodthirsty madmen turns up."
To Arthur's great surprise, Merlin did shut up. Though the idiot didn't look pleased about it.
The king returned to trying to locate his sword. It took a moment, but he pulled it up out of the bracken and stuck it through his belt in a purposeful way that he hoped reinforced the fact that the argument was finished, and threw another cautious glance around the woods. Scanning them revealed no further sign of immediate bandits, so he nodded to Merlin and started away towards the bracken path once more. "Right. Come on."
They hadn't gone too far before Merlin's silence inevitably broke and he began picking holes in Arthur's plan.
"If we leave right now, my mother is going to be worried about us."
Arthur acknowledged that fact, but already had a solution prepared. "We'll send her a message once we're clear of the border. We're not at war with Lot, despite how desperate he seems to display my head in varying locations around his castle. A message runner from a Camelot village shouldn't arouse too much suspicion. Letters are sent from kingdom to kingdom all the time, as you well know."
"So you want me to send a letter to my mother telling her that we have escaped?" Merlin nearly threw his hands in the air in despair again. "That'll turn out just fine!" He exclaimed, thoroughly exasperated. "Dear mother. Arthur and I have successfully evaded Lot's forces and are safely on our way home. Thank you for sheltering us and lying to the patrolmen. I'm sure the village will still be standing the next time I visit. Love Merlin. Brilliant, Arthur. Inspired."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "In code, you idiot. We wouldn't make it so blatantly obvious." He sniffed, and straightened his tunic. "Hunith's a clever woman. I'm sure she could work it out."
Merlin inclined his head. That was true. Though he was still not done. "We can't stop too close to the border. There's nothing stopping them from just coming over and getting us."
"Setting foot on Camelot soil is an act of war." Arthur replied flatly. "They won't follow."
"Right."
They couldn't have gone more than five steps before Merlin piped up again. "Isn't that the same rule for almost every land of the five kingdoms?"
Arthur clenched his teeth and rolled his eyes. "Yes."
"Ah. So, you and I are here. In Essetir."
"...Yes." The king did not like where this was going.
"Essetir, which belongs to Lot."
"Yes, Merlin."
"The kingdom whose soil you are currently setting foot on."
"Shut up, Merlin."
"Yes, Sire." Merlin fixed his eyes on the ground, trying to hide his smirk. Despite the look on his face, he hadn't forgotten the gravity of the situation. "Say that Lot abides by the act of war rule-"
"-Merlin!"
"- Even if he does, what's to stop the other bloodthirsty madmen chasing us all the way to Camelot?"
Arthur furrowed his brow. That was a good question, actually. One he had better be able to answer. "As soon as we reach a village, we will send a message to Camelot. What's the nearest village? Lower barrow? The knights will come and meet us."
"Not that they'll have time to get to us." Merlin muttered. "They'll all be after us as soon as they see us."
Arthur grit his teeth so hard he feared a moment that they might crack. "Then we'll have to make sure they DON'T see us, won't we?"
Merlin raised his hands in a half-hearted placating gesture, but didn't say anything further. Arthur had employed his warning tone. It was time to shut up.
They trudged on in silence, stopping occasionally while Arthur surveyed the area for threats. Now that he had been through these woods once, the king had a good idea that he could find his way back. Despite being dragged through them at blistering pace the first time, his extensive knight training had done its job and noted down various landmarks he had not been aware of on a conscious level. The start of the bracken path was near a large rabbit warren, while the steep slope he and Merlin had slid down could be reached by taking a left at a tree that bore an uncanny resemblance to an old man.
Before long they came to the gorge where their mad chase of the day before had taken its interesting turn. Arthur had managed to traverse the bog safely this time, leaving no footprints on the springy tussocks between the pools of filth. At the edge of the gorge (because that, he decided, was a much better description of the thing than 'canyon'), he halted, and strained his eyes to see into the forest on the far side.
The evidence of their chase was clear to see in the battered undergrowth and thoroughly molested bramble bushes. Though he couldn't see too far into the trees due to their growing density the further they grew from the gorge, he could hear voices. Laughter and banter that normally permeated the atmosphere of a camp. He ought to know. Making camp seemed to have become a favourite past time of his and the knights'.
He grabbed the scruff of Merlin's jacket and hauled the gangly servant into the shadow of the huge oak tree that stood at the very edge of the gorge.
Merlin did not protest at being dragged again. He merely threw a concerned glance at Arthur when the pair of them were safely hidden behind the tree. "What is it?"
Arthur frowned, and craned his neck to see over the idiot's head, and the far side of the gorge. He pursed his lips, taking a second to listen to the distant joshing voices. They were too far away to make out exactly what was being said, though the tones were definitely more social than business-like. "Sounds like a camp, just through the trees."
"Bandits?"
Judging by the colourful language? "Most likely."
They couldn't go back that way. With just the two of them, they couldn't run the risk of being spotted. Yet they had to get to the border...
Merlin leant around him suddenly, shooting a glance past the oak, along the edge of the gorge. "There's a way down just over there." He murmured in a low tone, and inclined his head towards a small area of exposed earth littered with aerial roots jutting from the side of the gorge. "If we follow the path below west, it eventually leads up to the ridge."
Arthur's eyebrows rose. The ridge, and the border. "Good thinking."
That he had said those words to Merlin of all people surprised him, but Arthur clapped the skinny man on the shoulder in true manly knight fashion to put across his approval in the clearest way possible that did not involve verbal praise. He had to admit it; Merlin was not completely useless. Weak and girlish with a tendency towards whining, yes, but not useless. His knowledge of the area was proving invaluable. Once sure that the way was clear, Arthur left the shelter of the tree and made for the roots.
It took a few minutes to climb down into the gorge ensuring that their progress was as quiet as possible, but once they were down, the going was much faster. Much of the path was sheltered from above on one side or the other. They only had to worry about being spotted from three of the four directions.
At some point, Arthur would later be unable to pinpoint when exactly, Merlin took the lead for a little while. He knew where he was going, which made things so much easier. All the while Arthur kept a close watch on their surroundings.
There was still no sign of Spumador or Bryn. That annoyed Arthur greatly. As flighty as his bay could be, he was strong, and fast. Camelot knew no better jousting horse. If the stupid thing couldn't be found, then he would have to charge Tyr with finding him a new one. The stableboy had a way with horses, and an eye that was unparalleled. He would do right in finding a new horse... Though Arthur still wanted Spumador...
Midday had come and gone by the time the ground began to slope steeply upwards. Arthur had retaken the lead once the gorge began to recede and Merlin started to tire. He trudged along with sword in hand, Merlin trailing along wearily after him, arms folded around himself. If memory served, this hill would plunge down into a valley on the far side, which in turn sloped all the way up to the ridge of Essetir, and the Camelot border. Having seen the valley a few times from the ridge, Arthur thought that he could maybe picture it in his head as he climbed. Running on Hunith's porridge, he felt surprisingly weary himself. It was no better than he remembered it, but after the meagre meal of the previous evening, he had been grateful for it. If he was feeling hungry now, it was no wonder Merlin was so weedy having grown up on the stuff.
Finally they reached the brow of the hill, breaking out of the trees into a rocky area that had long ago suffered deforestation. Merlin's feet ached and his legs felt like like two pieces of damp string. Reaching the top of the hill was a blessed relief. He did not have time to enjoy it however, as Arthur's hand was around his wrist, flinging him down into a patch of dying bracken and heather with an involuntary 'oof!'
He opened his mouth to query the king's continued manhandling when his eyes fell on Arthur's reasons. All of them, spread out across the foot of the ridge on the far side of the valley. Merlin's heart sank. Essetir soldiers. Hundreds of them. Milling about near the border and in the valley below. Lot's army had been massed nearby. Why, they still did not know. Somehow, Merlin doubted that this was the real reason.
Only a section of them was here, and they appeared to have been placed strategically to guard the main border crossing points. He cast his eyes along the ridge, able to make out more men positioned in and around the trees. This was a blockade.
Beside him, Arthur spoke, his voice low. "We've known for some time that Lot has had his eye on Camelot. If he was to try and take it now, I have handed him the perfect opportunity."
"Arthur." Merlin turned to his friend, noting the sullen look, and the worry on his face. "That's not true. They have to find you first."
Arthur was silent. Lot knew well enough. He knew that Camelot's knights looked to their king for strength and guidance. Perhaps more than in any other kingdom. To remove Arthur would leave Camelot vulnerable. Without their king, Camelot may well fall. A war would be more easily won.
Despite himself, Merlin swallowed. He and Arthur were hemmed in. The patrol searched to the North of Ealdor, the ridge was under close watch, and the bandits held the South. The only way was further into Lot's territory. They were trapped. Beside him, Arthur shook his head.
"It's only a matter of time."
"Oi." Merlin fixed the king with a stern look. "Don't talk like that. They haven't found you. Not yet."
What difference did it make, really? Arthur stared at the rough ground on which he lay, shielded by the dense undergrowth. He was stranded in enemy territory. Without his knights. Alone. The whole of Essetir was looking for him. What chance did he have?
"The odds aren't great." He uttered, more to himself than to Merlin. "Myself and a sword against an entire army of trained soldiers, bandits, and any layperson in need of coin."
"Hey." Merlin nudged him. "You've got me."
Arthur snorted a gentle laugh, though there was no mirth in it. "That makes me feel so much better."
"I know these woods, Arthur." Merlin pressed, his tone level, a deadly serious expression on his face. "I'm not completely useless. I will not let any harm come to you."
He was serious. Arthur looked at his friend, that familiar confused and uncertain expression on his face that always sprang up when he tried to fathom out his steadfast companion. "You amaze me, Merlin." He said after a moment quietly considering the man next to him. "You are always willing to face certain death for me without question. I can never understand why."
Merlin shrugged, and settled back onto his stomach to resume watching the enemy milling below. "It's my job." He answered, a certain gravity to his words that almost sent a chill down Arthur's spine, before adding lightly "If you die, then there won't be anybody to pay my wages."
Arthur couldn't help the smirk that found its way onto his face at that, and settled down beside his best friend. "Can't have that." He murmured. "They'd miss you at the tavern."
No answer was given to that. No verbal answer at the least. Merlin did squeeze his eyes shut a moment in some semblance of a wince, before opening them again and settling his chin on his arms to watch the soldier's movements.
As they lay there, completely hidden from those working so hard to stop their escape, Arthur began to formulate a plan. As plans went, it was pretty thin on the ground in terms of details, but the bare bones were sensible, and something he could work with. To be exact they were imperative: Get a message to Camelot. Get the knights to Essetir to either find him or negotiate his safe passage over the border to friendly territory. Leave.
Quite how he was going to send this message, he didn't know. Until he had that detail worked out, and the knights could arrive, he had to go to ground. So did Merlin. His manservant was in just as much danger as he was himself. They had to hide, and as much as he hated to admit it, Arthur knew that there was only one place he could do that with any safety.
Ealdor.
The only place in the middle of this hostile region that held any loyalty towards, and any inclination to help him. He didn't want it to be so, but there was no choice. As he had said to the villagers, his presence would place them, and their homes in danger, but his life meant more than his own survival. He was not just a man. He was a king. One who's people looked to him for support, as well as to draw courage. His life could mean the difference between Camelot's survival, its conquest, and its fall. To believe that of himself was neither boastful nor arrogant. It was truth. The knights told him often enough. Merlin told him often enough.
… Merlin.
Arthur glanced to his side at the scruffy man beside him. The clumsy, bumbling idiot who just then looked more cool, more calculating, and strangely, more sharp and dangerous than any military commander as he watched the enemy soldiers. If it wasn't Merlin he was looking at, Arthur could almost believe what the fool had said about not letting any harm come to him; that it was the soldiers who ought to fear.
All the same, as silly as that thought was, he did take heart in his ridiculous friend's presence. Despite all the jokes, all the goading, teasing and banter, deep down Arthur knew that there was nobody who gave him courage and instilled such strong self-belief in him as Merlin. The fine sword at his belt was proof enough of that.
He felt a sudden rise of fear. If anything should happen to Merlin during this sojourn in Essetir... It would be all his fault. Arthur felt a cold pang of worry at the thought, and turned his head away from his friend to focus on the enemy. He didn't know if he could live with himself, should anything happen to Merlin. Especially not because of his own stupid decisions. It surprised him how much that idea frightened him. He had lost Merlin before, and had not stopped searching until he was found. The relief that Merlin was alive had been overwhelming. Had the outcome been anything different... Arthur shook his head lightly, barely perceptibly, though from the brief flick of Merlin's eyes towards him, it had not gone unnoticed. If Merlin had not been found alive and well, he honestly didn't know what he would have done.
His tattered friend was one of the constants of his life. One of the things he knew that he could not do without. Guinevere, Merlin, the knights and Camelot. The four cornerstones of his life that, when one was removed, caused everything he believed himself to be to come tumbling down.
Right now, all of them were under threat. He had to find a way out of this mess. If he didn't, then Camelot would be in danger, and with her, Guinevere. The knights would battle to their last defending both Queen and kingdom, and Merlin would be all to happy to kill himself in service to his king.
There were small creatures Arthur had once read about, that lived in far off lands and were strangely compelled towards throwing themselves from cliffs and drowning. Lemmings, he thought they may be called. Merlin was akin to a lemming in many ways; small, beady, and with a predisposition towards greeting death with open arms. Sometimes his willingness to drop dead was quite alarming.
Whatever happened, though, Arthur was determined to get back to Camelot. There would be no war with Essetir. Lot wouldn't display his head as a rather attractive trophy, and Merlin wouldn't commit lemming suicide*. They would both get back to the citadel, and Guinevere's waiting arms safely and have the biggest breakfast Camelot had ever seen. Because lurking at the back of his mind was the inescapable fact that, despite the army, bloodthirsty madmen, bandits, shifty peasants and violently disposed king standing between him and safety, Arthur was absolutely starving.
Should Merlin have been able to read his mind just then, he would no doubt be trying not to laugh out loud. As anyone who lived in Camelot's citadel knew, and Merlin knew all too well, you didn't get between the king and his meals.
So it was with an uncomfortably growling stomach that Arthur focused himself on the enemy with single purpose, and familiarised himself with their positions, weaponry and movements. He was going to get back to Camelot, no matter what they all thought. He threw a glance at Merlin, finding his loyal servant to still be watching the soldiers with careful concentration and attention to detail. Yes. He was going to get home, and he was going to take his lemming with him.
- At last! This chapter is finally done and dusted. Took forever and would not turn out the way I wanted, but it is done. On to the next now that it is out of the way! Also, having to research lemmings for a Merlin story? Didn't see that one coming. Probably weren't known of at all in 6th Century Britain, but I rather like lemmings, and Merlin does fit the bill as a closet lemming with his insistence on dying for Arthur every five minutes.
* Lemming suicide is a misconception. They have incredible urges that result in mass migration, often across rivers that are too wide for them. Inevitably, there are casualties. The cliff thing comes from being flung off cliffs for the purposes of film. Glad that sort of thing is no longer encouraged. Poor little lemmings :'(
To the guest reviewers, Guest, Said the liar 13 and Guest Mark II: Thank you all! You're lovely! xxx
Next: Magic, Arthur's understanding of 'normal' and the shed.