His horse tired just as the cross roads came into view. With a final spur of energy, the stallion reached the crossing, its flanks heaving. Arthur leapt from the horse, studying the ground. There were some hoof and footprints, but nothing to suggest a cart had passed this way. A sudden thought struck him. What if she left on purpose? She went to give herself up to Lucas. Damn, you fool, Arthur! She wasn't taken; she was running away… away from you! Arthur stood on the road, utterly dazed. All this for nothing. She had gone to die. He felt cold suddenly; the sun was still overhead, but he was frozen to the core. He didn't understand why.

Then he saw it, the wagon approaching. Arthur studied it as it approached; three men were on it, one steering, the others sitting back. He noticed the weapons they had sheathed, all of them potentially his death. These were certainly the people from the woods. The covered trailer caught his eye; a black cover over something square. Arthur paused. He clung to the hope that Cara had not left; the hope that she was in that wagon, and that he could save her. The wagon stopped, its path blocked by the prince and his horse.

The stout driver tipped his hat, 'Mornin' stranger. Say, would you mind movin' we got to get to Mercia - trading to be done.' He sneered. Arthur saw through this man; bandit slaver! His mind cried.

Arthur held his ground, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get in the way, say what's a fine gentleman like you doing trading?'

The slaver smirked proudly, 'Well, it's an honest livin'. Say, what business you in?'

Arthur hadn't expected to talk with this man, but it worked out well, 'I'm Prince Arthur of Camelot.'

The slaver bridled, 'Yeah, and I'm Lord Eldred of Northumbria, get out the way you twerp!'

Arthur tilted his head. He took one last look at the slaver, ripping his sword from its sheath and pointing it to the slavers throat, 'Well, Lord Eldred, why don't you give me the girl you've got in the back?' Arthur leered.

The slaver returned the grin, 'One man against my three; your odds aren't that good.'

Arthur raised an eyebrow, 'Really?' Without a moment's hesitation, Arthur ripped his hunting knife from his boot, throwing it into the chest of the barrel chested man. The thin man jumped at him, a thin knife in his hands. Arthur punched him hard in the gut, drawing his sword and finishing the thin man off with one blow.

'Take her. Take her and leave!' The stout man shuddered.

Arthur shook his head, 'I just did you a favour; no one else to share your profits with. I don't do favours for men I despise.' Arthur retorted, stabbing the man straight through the chest. Throwing the man from his sword, Arthur moved to the trailer. Wrenching the black cover away, he saw Cara's small form huddled to the back of the trailer.

'Arthur!' she cried, tears streaming down her face.

Glancing down, Arthur saw the restraints on her hands. 'I'll be right back.' He said, rushing back to the men, retrieving his knife and the keys to the trailer. They were smeared with blood, but still clicked the lock open. Arthur squeezed into the cage, climbing to the back where Cara was tied. 'Hold still.' He said quietly, taking his knife to the ropes. Cara's wrists were raw and red where she had tugged at the rope. The knife made easy work of the restraints, and Arthur managed to rip them from her hands in seconds. 'You're bleeding.' He said gently, looking at her lacerated wrists.

'So are you.' Cara replied quietly, touching his arm. Arthur winced; he looked down to his arm, seeing a thin rip in his clothes. Shedding his jacket he found the line continued through the skin, leaving a thick ooze of blood. The thin man must have caught him with the knife.

'Come on.' Cara told him calmly, leading him out the cage. Immediately she went to the stout man. She seemed slightly sickened by the blood covered men, but returned with a water skin in her hand. 'Roll up your sleeve sire.' She instructed. Arthur did do, hissing in pain as the cloth caught his wound. 'Hold still.' Cara said, pouring a trickle of water onto the gash in his arm. Arthur bit back the pain, focusing on Cara as she assessed the injury. 'It's deep.' She explained, 'I'll bandage it up for now. We'll find a physician in Guilder to give you something to stop infection. Can I borrow your knife?'

Arthur looked at her sceptically, 'I'm not sure a knife is going to help the situation.'

She gave his a stern look. Arthur handed her his knife, watching her closely. Cara took the knife in one hand, and held the hem of her dress in the other. Using the knife, she hacked off a thick strip of cloth.

Arthur sat, stunned, 'Cara! You can't do that. It's indecent!'

Cara said nothing, sitting beside him, using the more water to wash the cloth. Once it was clean, Cara wrapped it round Arthur's arm, tying it off smoothly. 'Indecency is the last of my worries. Besides, maybe it would do us some good; if we have no money to pay for a sorcerer I might as well show him what else we have to barter with.' Her voice was flat, but Arthur knew she meant it.

'Cara.' He said gently, but she refused to look at him, busying herself with cleaning her injuries. 'Cara. That's absurd. You couldn't… I mean surely the sorcerers will have decency to come to our aid without… giving them anything in return.'

'You have no idea what I would give to see my brother again. If we need a sorcerer, then I'll do whatever it takes.'

Arthur did not let up. With great effort he kept his tone level, 'I won't let you. I'll find another way to pay for a sorcerer.'

Cara looked at him once, flicking her eyes away as soon as they met his. 'Thank you sire.'

* * *