Chapter 4

The day of the trip dawned clear, but cold enough for white frost cling to plants in ditches and ravines. As they road in the faint dawn light, it was obvious winter was setting in. Birds were scarce, and there were fewer tracks winding through the forest floor.

The group rode North and East toward the lands held by Lord Byron. On a normal journey it was about two days to ride to his lands. Arthur aimed to make it in before noon on the second day, to give them plenty of time to start on matters of court business. It didn't work out that way.

Within three hours of riding, they found a young man, maybe 17 years old and an old woman, sitting on the cold ground, beside the road, leaning on a tree, looking shell shocked. Neither of them had a coat. The woman's lips were an awful shade of blue.

"What has happened here," Arthur demanded of them.

Neither moved. Neither answered.

Arthur turned to look behind him, "Merlin," he ordered. "Check them over."

Merlin jumped out of his saddle, grateful to stretch his legs. He grabbed his satchel and walked over toward them, until he was less than a foot away. He knelt down so he was eye level with the young man.

The boy was pale, but his hands had enough color to suggest that he was used to farm work. His eyes were a deep brown, still totally blank, despite Merlin's proximity. Merlin reached over and touched his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Merlin asked.

The boy's eyes flicked over in surprised, took in the group around him, and then he started shaking like an aspen leaf.

"You're safe. No one here will hurt you," Merlin promised, gripping his shoulder a bit tighter. "These are knights from Camelot."

The boy nodded briefly and looked down. Merlin saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

"My name is Merlin. I've been training with a physician. Can I check you over?"

The boy nodded again. Merlin took his arm and felt for the pulse. It was racing. His hands were cold, his eyes still dilated. He was in shock that much was certain. Merlin pulled out a flask of whiskey that Gaius had packed for him. He pulled out a small cup and poured the drink into it. Then Merlin slipped his riding cloak off and pulled it over the boy's shoulders.

As the liquor hit the boy's stomach, his face began to return to it right color. The young man took a deep breath and snuggled deeper into the cloak.

"May I examine her," Merlin said, gesturing to the woman beside him.

The young man nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"What's your name?" Merlin asked gently.

"Philip," the man breathed.

"Who's she?" Merlin asked.

"My auntie, Marie," Philip answered. "I was taking to her home before winter. We never made it."

"What happened," Arthur asked.

Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. Without him noticing, Arthur had dismounted and was standing right behind him.

"We were attacked yesterday by a group of strange men. They were huge and spoke some different language. They took our food, our blankets, everything. We kept walking, hoping to find someone. A while back, my aunt just sat down by this tree and she hasn't moved since."

"It's a wonder they didn't kill you," Arthur said.

The boy nodded and tears welled in the corner of his eyes, "They almost did."

Merlin took the woman's arm and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He moved to her neck and felt for it again. He waited for a very long time and just when he thought she was dead, he found it. Critically faint. Merlin fumbled for the drink, poured her another cup, and then squeezing her nose shut, he forced the liquid down her throat. He stood up went back to the saddle bag and found a blanket. He took it back and wrapped the woman in it.

Most of the knights had dismounted. Lancelot offered the boy some food. He took it warily and began wolfing it down. Arthur pulled Merlin off to one side.

"How are they?"

"The boy should be fine. He's not injured. He spent a night outside in cold without shelter or a coat. They were smart, if they had stopped walking, they would have frozen to death. There is nothing wrong with him that a cup of ale, a roaring fire and a good hot meal won't fix."

"The woman," Arthur asked.

Merlin shook his head, "She's alive, but she's very weak."

"What should we do with them?"

Merlin thought about it for a few seconds, "We need to take them back to the boy's village. They have family there. They must have some kind of shelter, and some person who could take care of them."

Arthur bristled, "We don't have time. We have to get back to Camelot as soon as we can."

"You leave them here, they will die. Even if you provisioned them, gave them food, water, blankets, and cloaks, they're both too weak to survive another night out in this. Leaving them here is a death sentence."

Arthur looked torn and then in a moment, he straightened. "You're right. We will return them to their village. So much for getting to Byron's in lightening time," Arthur said sighing.

The old woman ended up tied in Lancelot's saddle with the knight riding behind her, bare back, to make sure she didn't fall. The boy settled in behind Merlin.

The group stayed on the main path for another half and hour before diverting on a side path to get back to the boy's home. It only took an hour ride after that to reach the little village.

As they rode into town, their red capes streaming behind them, all the people left their houses and shops to come and stand in the main square. They stared wide eyed as the troupe of solders fell into formation behind Arthur.

Merlin dismounted, quietly from his place behind Arthur. He helped the boy, who was still stiff with cold, off the horse. Arthur dismounted as well.

Arthur addressed the group, "Citizens of Camelot. We come in peace. My troupe was heading north to the lands of Lord Byron when we found this lad and his aunt along the road. They had been robbed and are nearly dead of cold. Are they of your village?"

With Merlin's help, Philip limped forward.

From the crowd, a woman cried, "Philip."

She ran up to him and caught him in a fierce hug. He started to cry again, onto the top of her head.

Percival helped Lancelot get the old woman off the horse. Percival gently carried the little lady forward. The woman, who was still hugging her son, looked over and cried harder.

"Marie," she cried. "Oh, Marie." To Arthur she said, "Yes, My Lord, they are of this village. Philip is my son. Marie is my mother's sister.

Arthur stepped forward to the woman, "Madam, my, ah…" Arthur stumbled for a word and then pointed at Merlin and came up with, "servant here, has some medical training. If you would like, he can look over them and give them treatment."

"Yes, My Lord, I would be grateful. Our nearest healer is two villages over." Her eye's flicked to Merlin and to the woman in Percival's arms.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord," the mother said, letting go of her son, her eyes bright with tears. "But might I have the privilege of knowing your name, so I may know who saved my son's life."

Arthur smiled and bowed to her. "I am Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot."

With that pronouncement, she fell to her knees in shock. The rest of the people in square followed her example in a cascade.

Arthur bid her to rise and said, "Madam, your son and your aunt need care. Merlin," Arthur said, nodding to him.

Merlin returned the nod.

"We need to get them warm," Merlin said to her.

"This way," she said, indicating a house along the north side of the square.

An hour later, Merlin left the house, his cloak back on his own shoulders. He felt absolutely exhausted. There wasn't much he could do for Marie. He found it hard telling the family that she probably wouldn't survive the night. They took it well. Apparently the woman was quite a fighter and had been at death's door before. They still held onto hope that she would pull through.

Merlin looked around the square. It was well into the afternoon now. There were a few peddlers on the street, selling a bit of everything, but there were no knights anywhere. Their horses, his included, had been tethered up to a hitching post on the south side of the square. Merlin headed over toward what looked like an inn, near to the horses.

He walked in. The happy chatter of voices filled the room and bright hot firelight shone from a huge hearth fire. All of the knights were sitting at tables around the room. Arthur was on the far end, talking with one of the townspeople. Arthur turned when the door opened and gestured for him to come over. Merlin sighed, looked longingly at Lancelot, who was eating what looked like a mutton stew and drinking ale.

"Merlin," Arthur said, as he approached. "Have you finished?"

"I've done as much as I can for them," Merlin replied. "Time will tell."

The man at the table asked, "Will Philip be all right?"

Merlin turned to him. The man was some undeterminable age between 30 and 50. His hair was the color deer fur and his long face had rough scratches of a beard that wouldn't quite grow.

"He'll be just fine. A couple of days of rest, some of that stew that the knights are eating, and a warm fire will set him to rights in a few days. I'm not sure about the Marie though. If she's strong enough to survive the night, there's a chance."

The man nodded. He stretched out his hand to Merlin, which Merlin took surprised.

"Thank you, my Lord. Philip is my only son. A good boy if there ever was one. I will always be in your debt." Then the man stood up and then bowed low to Arthur. "Sire, I'll say it today and to my dying day, there will never be another king in this land as great as you." He raised he voice to a shout, "Long live Prince Arthur."

The crowd answered back, "Long live Prince Arthur!"

Philip's father bowed low again to Arthur, bowed to Merlin, and then left the inn, leaving Arthur and Merlin at the table. Just as Merlin was about to order some of the stew, Arthur stood up.

"My knights," he said loudly. "We must depart. Return to your horses." Then in a lower voice to Merlin, he said as he handed him a half a dozen coins. "Settle up will you?"

As the knights filled out after Arthur, Merlin walked up to the bar. Merlin had the account settled in a trice, but before he turned to leave, a slim girl bowed to him.

Blushing furiously, the girl pressed a little package tied up in a towel in his hand and then she hurried away. Merlin opened the package and found a glass jar of golden honey. Merlin smiled.

"Would thank her for me," Merlin asked the barman. "It's a grand gift. Honey prevents infections and helps healing. But more importantly, when I put it on the prince's bread in the morning, he gives me less chores to do."

The barkeeper laughed from his belly, which was rounder than his head.

"She's to wed Philip in the spring," he said. "Expect she wants to thank you."

"She didn't need to do that," Merlin said, feeling his own blush coming on.

"I don't need to do this either," the barkeeper said handing Merlin a hunk of bread, some cheese, and a sealed flask of what could only be ale. "But seeing as you did save my daughter's future husband, and your prince is running off before you ate anything."

The barkeeper eyes twinkled as he shook Merlin's hand and then said, "Thank you lad."

Merlin smiled and nodded, then hurried out to join the group.

Arthur seemed to be trying to make up for the hours they lost saving Philip and his aunt. They rode much later then they usually would have and only stopped when it was too dark in the forest to see the trail, meaning that they had to set up camp in the near dark.

Merlin was hungry, sore, exhausted, and beyond annoyed with Arthur. Arthur only agreed to stop when Merlin pointed out that if they got lost it would take more time to find the proper trail in the morning then it would to just finish the ride from where they were. Arthur told him he was girl, but he stopped a few minutes later.

Despite the darkness, the knights were able to set up camp in no time. Merlin divvied out food, a meal of dried beef, fruit and day old bread. Afterward, he was so tired he asked Arthur permission to turn in. Arthur granted it, but gave Merlin a strange look. Whether it was because Merlin asked permission to go to sleep, or because it was still very early, Merlin didn't know. He really didn't care either. He had a headache and maybe a fever. All he wanted was to sleep. He wrapped himself up in his cloak, his remaining blanket, and an extra blanket he tossed in for Arthur. He fell straight asleep.

He woke up again to someone shaking his arm and repeating his name softly. It was Arthur. Merlin didn't even open his eyes.

"What?" Merlin asked, droopily.

"I need your help," Arthur said.

Merlin rolled over to face the other way, "Tomorrow."

"Merlin," Arthur demanded.

Merlin didn't turn to face him, "What's so bloody important that can't wait until morning."

"Blood, ironically enough."

"What?" Merlin asked, forcing himself to sit up.

"Sir Reginald cut himself on Sir Edwin sword. Apparently he didn't see it when they changed watch."

Arthur helped pull Merlin to his feet.

"If some clotpole hadn't made us ride until dark, maybe he would have seen it," Merlin said.

"Just fix him up, Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin did or at least he tried. Sir Reginald's cut wasn't deep, but it was long. Merlin hymned and hawed over whether it needed stitches, until he realized it would be far to dark to even attempted stitching it closed. He would have to check it again in the morning. He sealed the wound with his gifted honey and then bound it tightly.

Merlin stumbled back to his bedroll and wrapped back up. He was on the verge of sleeping again when Arthur's asked quietly.

"Have you ever considered leaving my service and becoming a physician in one of the villages?"

"No," Merlin said, wrapping deeper into his blankets.

"Why not?"

"I'll always be your servant, in one way or another, until the day I die."

"You wouldn't have to Merlin," Arthur said, quietly. "You have enough skills to be a physician in almost any village in Camelot."

If you only knew about all my skills, Merlin mused. Aloud he said, "Are you sacking me?"

"If you left my service, you would have a good life, maybe in even a better life than working as my servant."

"Look, if you going to sack me would you hurry up so I can go back to sleep?"

"I don't understand you Merlin," Arthur said.

"Yes, you do. You just won't admit it to yourself," Merlin answered.

"No, Merlin, I don't. Why would you willingly stay a servant when you could be so much more?"

"You're going to have to answer that one for yourself Arthur," Merlin said. "But I guarantee you already know the answer."