It was only an hour later that Dagonet came into the room with a serious look on his face. He remained in the door opening, while allowing his eyes to get used to the darkness. His gaze lingered shortly on Lancelot, before he turned to Arthur. "Arthur. No change?"

With a slight hesitation Arthur answered. "No…"

Dagonet seemed to be too preoccupied to notice Arthur's rather noncommittal answer.

Arthur threw him a quizzical glance.

"We need you to come to the main hall," said Dagonet in an urgent voice. "There are some things you need to know."

Arthur looked at the figure of the sleeping knight, but before he could say anything, Dagonet continued. "I've asked the healer's apprentice to stay with Lancelot. I've told him where we are."

Well aware of the urgency with which Dagonet was speaking, he stood up and left the room behind the huge knight. From the corners of his eyesight he saw how one of the healer's assistants slipped into Lancelot's room and shut the door.

All of his knights were seated at the round table when Arthur entered together with Dagonet. The serious look on Dagonet's face was mirrored on all of their faces.

Arthur remained standing next to the chair he normally occupied. His gaze was drawn to the middle of the room where Lancelot had been lying like dead just two days before. No evidence remained as the floor had been cleaned spotless. A shiver went down Arthur's spine nonetheless.

"Speak." Arthur ordered, feeling the tension in the air.

"We have been talking a lot about who could have attacked Lancelot and why, and we found that there were a couple of other questions we couldn't find the answers to," began Gawain his explanation. "For one, when Jols came to warn me and Galahad that you wanted us gathered here, he asked whether we knew where Lancelot was. He hadn't told him yet that there was to be a meeting at the round table."

Arthur nodded for him to continue.

"So why was Lancelot in the main hall then?"

Arthur nodded again, his eyebrows risen in surprise, a pensive look crossing his features.

"Tristan then suggested that Lancelot might not have been attacked in here, but somewhere else. Which would mean that he was brought here after he was struck unconscious…" Gawain left the underlying question hanging in the air.

Galahad took over. "We figured that the place where he was attacked couldn't be far from here, because someone dragging a bleeding and unconscious knight somewhere should look quite suspicious." Galahad looked at Arthur, who nodded once more. "That's when I remembered the small alcove in the hallway behind this room." Galahad gestured with his left hand in the direction where a small corridor ran directly from the main hall to the stables. "Lancelot once showed it to me. It's a good place to make out with…" Galahad blushed slightly. "Anyway, that's indeed where Lancelot was attacked!"

"How do you know?" Arthur asked sharply.

Gawain stood up from his chair. "We think you better see for yourself."

Puzzled, Arthur followed his knights through the small passage. They stopped before the alcove to allow Arthur to enter. Tristan was already in there with a torch so Arthur could see what the others had seen before.

"Heavenly Father…" Arthur was shocked to find a huge pool of dried blood visible on the floor. It was at least twice the amount of blood that had circled Lancelot's head when he had been found in the main hall.

In silence they all walked back to the main hall and sat down at the round table once more. Arthur sat down this time also. He didn't say anything for awhile, trying to deal with what he had just seen and heard, so many thoughts milling about in his mind.

"Arthur?" The knights were becoming uneasy with Arthur's silence.

Arthur looked up at Gawain who had spoken. Gawain couldn't read his commander's face, but he could sense that something was wrong. Arthur seemed distracted.

"Has something else happened?" he asked tentatively.

"Aye…" Arthur looked all of his knights in their eyes. "Lancelot woke up again a short while ago…"

"That's good, isn't it?" Bors asked confused, looking around the circle of fellow knights and seeing the same confusion on their faces.

"Yes, it is. He remembered nothing of the attack."

The knights were only more confused now. "We knew that already, didn't we?" Gawain commented.

"And he remembered nothing of our conversation yesterday."

The brief silence was quickly broken by various curses from all around the table.

"Damn it! We have to find whoever did this to our Lance!" Bors jumped up, his fist thumping the table in anger.

"Aye!" came the response from his friends.

"And when I get him in my hands, he'll regret ever laying a finger on Lancelot! I'll throttle him so slowly that he begs me to kill him fast!"

"Bors! Enough." Arthur stood up straight. "We need to find out more. Any ideas?" He turned around to Jols who had been standing in the door opening since they had returned from the alcove. "Jols, go to the valetudinarium, and let the healer know that Lancelot lost a lot more blood than we thought at first. Maybe it explains why he's doing so poorly…"

Arthur turned his attention back to his men. "Anyone?"

"Well, Lancelot must have been waiting for some girl. Why else would he have been in the alcove? Maybe we can find her, and find out whether she has seen anything?" Galahad offered.

"Good idea." Arthur glanced over at Bors, who had sat back down again. "Bors, ask Vanora if she has any idea who Lancelot was meeting. She's usually well aware of these things."

Arthur heard how his scout cleared his throat and turned his attention to Tristan.

"Lancelot was obviously carried here from the alcove. If he had been dragged there would have been traces. Considering the amount of blood in the alcove, and the amount of blood Lancelot lost while lying here, he must have lost even more while being carried. Which means that the clothes of his attacker must have been stained with blood. We can ask around if anyone saw someone with bloodstained clothes. Or we can try to find the clothes. I know it's a long shot, but it's not like we have much else to go on right now."

Arthur nodded once again. His scout had a sharp eye for detail. If anyone could find the clothes, he could. Like he had found the water bucket.

"One more thing before we leave," Arthur said while holding up his hand to stop his knights from leaving. "Lancelot wants to return to his own room."

Surprised faces stared at him. "Isn't he better off at the valetudinarium?" "Is he well enough for that?" "He looks much too pale!" Comments and questions bombarded the Roman.

Arthur held up his hand once more to stop the questions. "I don't think it's wise either, but knowing Lancelot he won't let up until he's back in his room. I don't want him agitated over anything, so if the healer gives his okay, I won't fight it. And maybe he's better off in familiar surroundings, maybe it will allow him to sleep more peacefully. Can someone of you go to his room and light the fire?"

"I'll do it," Gawain offered.

"Thank you." Arthur said gratefully before he left the hall in a hurry.

–– 8 ––

Arthur was starting to wonder if Lancelot would wake up again at all this day. Vanora had come by to bring him his supper, but that seemed hours ago already. He had talked with the healer briefly also. The healer had stressed that it was important for Lancelot to get some food and water inside of him to stop his strength from waning any further. Arthur sighed. He had been sighing a lot the past days. It seemed Lancelot was trapped in a kind of vicious circle. Where the blood loss had drained his strength and was keeping him asleep so much, the concussion was making it nearly impossible for the Sarmatian knight to keep any food or drink in his stomach, the one thing he needed most to get stronger again.

"You worry too much."

The weak voice held something of the normal Lancelot, and when Arthur looked up, he saw a slight smirk on the pale face of his friend. He also noticed how the bruises on his face were starting to show all colours of the rainbow.

"You give me enough reason to worry so much," Arthur retorted.

Lancelot flinched slightly at the words, both because of the content as well as the way the words made his head pound stronger.

Arthur walked over the bed and sat down on it. "How are you feeling?"

"As bad as I look if your face is any indication."

Arthur shook his head in amusement. Always and everywhere Lancelot had his way with words. Arthur realized that the unfamiliar stillness was what was most unsettling about watching his friend lie in bed all day – Lancelot was rarely silent, never still. "The healer says you should eat something. Do you think you could drink some broth? It's good. Vanora made it."

"No.. No…." He swallowed against the nauseous feeling that was rising from his stomach.

Arthur knew how Lancelot was feeling, but he also knew he had to press on. "You might actually feel better. You need to get your strength back up."

"My head hurts." Weariness was already becoming apparent in Lancelot's eyes once more.

"Just a few sips," Arthur urged. Afraid that the knight was going to fall asleep on him again, he offered what he knew Lancelot wanted most of all at the moment. "If you drink some of the broth, I promise to transfer you to your own bed."

"Today?" Lancelot's eyelids quivered and stopped when they had fallen halfway down.

"Today." Arthur pledged solemnly.

Lancelot struggled to sit up, but didn't get very far. Arthur had already moved towards him. "Let me help you!" Wrapping his arms around Lancelot, he gently pulled him forward, supporting his neck with one hand. Mindful of what had happened the previous day, he held Lancelot until he could feel him straightening a bit by himself. When he could look into the knight's face, he saw that he had his eyes closed. "Are you feeling dizzy?"

"Yes," Lancelot spoke drawlingly. Slowly his eyes fluttered open again. Arthur was almost starting to regret that he had pressured Lancelot into drinking something when he saw the bewilderment and pain in the brown eyes.

Arthur waited patiently while Lancelot tried to calm his shaking body by taking deliberate deep breaths. It took a few minutes before Lancelot looked Arthur in his eyes. "Okay."

Cautiously, Arthur released his support to Lancelot's back with one hand and reached out for the bowl with broth. He placed it at Lancelot's lips, not trusting the other man to be able to hold on to the bowl with trembling hands. After a first tentative sip, the Sarmatian drank more eagerly, draining the bowl completely. The still lukewarm liquid was soothing to his dry throat.

Pleased that Lancelot had drank all of the broth, but wary of any signs of nausea, Arthur placed the bowl behind him on the bed. He turned around just in time to see Lancelot's eyes closing once more. "Lancelot?"

"I'm awake." Lancelot's voice betrayed that he was close to sleep nonetheless.

Arthur watched worriedly how Lancelot was slumping forward in his arms. "I'm going to lie you back down now. Are you ready?"

A heavy sigh escaped from Lancelot when he lay back onto the bed again. He opened his eyes briefly. "Don't forget your promise…" He was asleep the moment the last vowel left his lips.

Arthur sighed yet again. "Stubborn…" he mumbled while standing up from the bed. He grabbed the empty bowl, and placed it on the small table. Then he turned back to the bed, and arranged the two heavy fur blankets in such a way that Lancelot would stay warm when he lifted him to carry him to his room.

Bracing himself, Arthur brought his arms underneath Lancelot's body. As gently as possible, he pulled the sleeping knight to his chest. Lancelot's head settled on his shoulder. Slowly he began the walk to the building where the knights' quarters were. Arthur took extreme care to not jostle Lancelot's head too much, cradling the limp body close.

Gawain, Galahad and Dagonet had obviously been waiting for them, and approached immediately. "Sweet Goddess…" In the light of the many torches of the hallway the extent of the bruising on Lancelot's face became visible, as did the ghostly pallor of his skin. The blood red stained bandage mismatched nicely with both.

Galahad opened the door to Lancelot's room and stepped aside to let Arthur through. "Is he alright?" he asked doubtfully.

Arthur didn't answer until he had placed the curly haired man on his own bed. He continued to look at Lancelot while he shook his head. "I don't know. He drank some broth, that's good, but other than that…"

Looking around the room, Arthur noticed the makeshift bed next to Lancelot's. "Thank you."

"We didn't think you would want to leave him alone just yet. And it might be kinder on your back than spending another night sleeping in a chair," Gawain smiled.

"Amen to that!" Arthur chuckled quietly.