Galahad tried to sit in a position that would be more or less comfortable with his hands still tied behind his back. The muscles in his arms were protesting loudly against the abuse. He wished he could just stretch his arms and relax his shoulders for a few minutes. Besides him, Lancelot had sunk down on his knees. Galahad could see by the concentrated look on the dark knight's face that he was trying to get the ropes undone. He also noticed how blood was slowly trailing down Lancelot's arm, pooling on the ropes around his wrists, before running down his fingers.

Finally Galahad managed to sit with his legs crossed. He sighed with relief, although he knew it would only be short-lived until his arms started protesting once more.

"You got us in, but did you think of a way to get us out again? What if Merlin doesn't come up with the answers we need or they aren't what we want to know? How are we going to get out of here then?" Galahad asked, watching Lancelot carefully as he went on with his attempts to get his wrists freed.

Lancelot looked up briefly, staring at Galahad, before he shook his head. "We've got two days to figure it out," he answered, his voice lacking any smugness, but laced with fatigue.

For a moment Galahad looked straight ahead in thought. "Arthur gave us four days to return. After that, he'll come looking for us," he said slowly.

Lancelot looked up again, sharply, surprised.

Both men were startled by the sudden entry of two Woads. One of them was carrying a tray with food, water and bandages. He set the tray down without a word. The other Woad had remained at the opening of the tent, his sword drawn. Lancelot and Galahad watched without speaking as well, when the first Woad removed a knife from his side, and knelt down behind Galahad and cut his ropes. He quickly moved to Lancelot, whose hands were also freed. Without speaking up at all, the Woads left the tent again. The guards outside the tent were obviously still in place.

Gratefully both knights moved their arms and shoulders around, stretching sore limbs, flexing stiff joints. Before long, they both attacked the food. They ate in silence for awhile, both men alone with their thoughts.

Galahad glanced over at Lancelot, noting with concern how pale and drawn the dark Sarmatian looked. "Are you alright?" he asked for the first time since they had been taken captive by the Woads.

"Aye, it's merely a scratch," Lancelot answered, reaching for another piece of bread.

"A scratch that managed to colour your entire arm red, that kind of scratch?" Galahad's voice clearly indicated his annoyance at Lancelot's answer.

Lancelot shrugged, nothing like his usual quick-witted self.

"Let me take a look at it," Galahad insisted.

"I'm fine."

"Lancelot…" Galahad replied, sounding threatening, almost growling.

Lancelot stopped objecting and allowed Galahad to take a look at the cut. The cut was not very deep although long, and painful every time he moved his arm. Galahad ripped a piece from the bandages that the Woads had left behind and cleaned the wound with water. Lancelot leaned back tiredly as the younger knight gently bandaged his arm.

Galahad sat back on his heels when he was finished, and looked the dark Sarmatian over once more. "You know that you don't exactly look fine?" he said concerned.

Before Lancelot could reply, three heavily armed Woads strode into the tent. Both knights were roughly pulled up by their arms.

"They are looking for you. Scouts have been spotted. Merlin doesn't want to draw Romans to our camp," the oldest of the three Woads gave as an explanation, while pushing Galahad towards the opening of the tent. One of the other Woad pushed Lancelot after his fellow knight even before he got a chance to go after Galahad himself.

Cold rain poured down on them, soaking them thoroughly immediately. They were lead towards their horses. Lancelot saw with relief that their swords, bows and knifes were draped over their saddles.

"Merlin said to return in two days." As suddenly as they had appeared, the three Woads turned around and disappeared into the grey curtain that the rain had erected.

Lancelot quickly checked his horse before he mounted. "Let's go," he said wisely.

Galahad had already mounted his grey mare, and they rode away, Lancelot leading, Galahad following. Although it was still day, it was dark like dust between the trees. Heavy clouds lay overhead the woods.

After riding for half an hour, they reached a broader path and Galahad fell into step next to Lancelot. He noticed that the dark knight was favoring his right arm while holding the reins, where he normally used his left hand, but Galahad kept silent, knowing that there was nothing he could do for the other man right now anyway.

"Now what?" Galahad asked. "Where are we going?"

"We need to find a place where we can stay alive for the next two days," Lancelot replied. Both of them were well aware that they might have been safer as captives within the Woad camp then just the two of them wandering through a forest festered with enemies. Lancelot looked at the dark clouds that were gliding by faster and faster. "It's going to storm, we better find shelter somewhere."

–– 8 ––

Tristan hurried towards Arthur's quarters. His boots squelched with every step as they were soaking wet with rain. Drops of water were falling down his braided hair, leaving a trail behind him as he ran through the hallways.

Without knocking, he entered Arthur's rooms. Gawain, Dagonet and Bors were there as well. Their commander instantly stood up from the chair in which he had been sitting, a worried expression lining his features.

"They've been captured by Woads," Tristan said after he closed the door behind him.

Curses broke the silence as the scout's words settled heavily in their hearts.

Gawain looked towards Arthur. "Do we still wait four days?" he asked doubtfully.

The Roman thought for a few moments before he spoke up. "Knights, prepare to leave!"

–– 8 ––

Rain turned into hail, hail turned into snow. Before Lancelot and Galahad were able to find a suitable shelter against the rain underneath some thickly leaved trees, they got caught in the storm.

"Fits the mood," Lancelot stated, his voice dark and ominous. He dismounted, leading his black stallion and Galahad's grey mare to the nearby bushes, tying them securely to make certain they weren't left stranded without their horses. He let himself slid down a tree, resting his head back against the stem.

Galahad pulled his cloak from one of his saddle bags, and bread and water from the other, before he walked over to where Lancelot was seated. He handed him a piece of bread, before he settled down next to the older knight. Almost immediately he became aware of the clattering of Lancelot's teeth. "You're cold…"

Lancelot drew his cloak around him tighter, although it was as wet as he was himself. "I'm fine."

Galahad responded with irritation and genuine concern. "You're not fine! You're soaking wet, you're cold, and you don't look any less exhausted than you did when we were still in that tent!" He took a deep breath before he continued. "When is the last time you actually slept?" he asked, the picture of how Lancelot must have spent the last couple of days clear in his mind all of a sudden.

Lancelot didn't answer.

"You look like you haven't slept since the Romanuses were killed…"

"Close…" Lancelot mumbled more to himself than to answer Galahad's question.

In a softer tone Galahad continued. "Why don't you get some sleep? We're not going anywhere anytime soon. We have to wait this storm out before we can get moving again. I'll keep watch while you sleep. Not that there's much to watch out for in this weather. Not even the Woads will be moving about today."

"I don't need sleep." Lancelot's dark tone clearly said not to argue with him, even though his whole posture told a different story.

Galahad kept silent, familiar with the stubborn streak of the man sitting next to him. Instead he moved closer to the dark Sarmatian, sharing body warmth. He could feel the tremors coursing through Lancelot's body. When Lancelot didn't object, he threw his cloak around the both of them. They sat like that for quite a while, staring at all the different forms of water that were falling from the sky.

"Arthur asked us to keep you safe, but he really didn't have to ask. We've all been worried about you, Lancelot," Galahad confessed in a quiet voice. "It's not like you to hide in your room…"

"I've never been accused of murder before either," Lancelot answered equally quietly, unable to keep the pain at the accusations out of his voice. "The Romans force me to kill people in a battle not my own, and now these same Romans accuse me of murder!" He could feel the anger inside of him flaring up again.

"We never thought you did it!" Galahad's voice was anything but quiet now. Forcefully he continued, "Bors' remark was awkward, but no one of us ever believed you were responsible, Lancelot! I think only a few people in the whole fortress considered it true, or wanted it to be the truth!"

"But those few were enough to get us in this situation right now," Lancelot answered.

Galahad stared at his boots, not knowing how to answer the dark knight, realizing that he was right.

"Thank you for going with me."

Lancelot's voice had become even more soft, hardly audible to Galahad's ears, but he heard the words. He pulled the cloak even tighter around himself and the shivering knight. "Always."

"When did Arthur ask you to hold watch during the nights?" Lancelot asked the question that had been on his mind ever since Galahad had shown himself to him in the stables.

"The first day after the killings already," Galahad answered.

Lancelot turned his head to Galahad in surprise.

The younger knight smiled at him in amusement. "We took bets as to how long it would take before you left the fortress."

"Who won?"

"Arthur."

Lancelot chuckled.

"He knows you well, Lancelot," Galahad said with a grin on his face. "Gawain, Tristan and Bors thought you would leave sooner than two days. Dagonet and I both guessed longer."

–– 8 ––

Lancelot and Galahad spent the most of the next two days shielding from rain and snow and moving from shelter to shelter to avoid being found by Woads. They had a few close encounters with Woad warriors nonetheless. One Woad almost stumbled over them, quite literally.

Lancelot had pulled Galahad to the side behind a large tree when he had become aware of the man walking towards their shelter. The dark Sarmatian had immediately realized that the Woad was not aware of their presence as he was not trying to obscure the noises he was making while walking at all. But he was heading straight for their hiding place and Lancelot knew he would have to deal with the Woad fast and silently. He signaled to Galahad to remain silent while he gripped his knife tightly within his fist. When the Woad was separated from them only by the tree they were hiding behind, Lancelot stuck out his leg. The unexpected obstacle sent the Woad flying to the ground. Before he could even start to think of recovering, Lancelot had jumped on his back already, slung his arm around the man's neck, pulling his head backwards and exposing his neck, which the Sarmatian slit with a swift motion from his knife, spraying blood over the forest floor everywhere.

Galahad had looked on stunned until Lancelot had pointed out the large group of Woads passing very close by. They had escaped discovery only by a hair's breadth.

–– 8 ––

Tristan waited until his commander and fellow knights had caught up with him. He had been sent off to scout around by Arthur several times each day, and each time he had come back with the same answer.

Arthur looked at his scout questioningly.

Tristan shook his head. "No trace of them. They are not in Merlin's camp anymore, of that I'm certain."

"They must have gotten away. It doesn't make sense that they would be transferred to another camp." The muscles of Arthur's jaw were tense as he considered the possibilities.

"Lancelot is an expert in erasing his traces. And the rain is taking care of the rest," Tristan stated quietly. "If I can't track him, at least the Woads can't either."

–– 8 ––

Uncertain of how to proceed, Lancelot and Galahad just rode into the Woad camp slowly. They could see how word about their arrival spread fast as blue painted men and women rose to their feet, pointing, talking, running. Soon one of the Woads that had been with Merlin the previous time came towards them. "Follow me," he said, turning back to where he just came from.

Lancelot dismounted, with Galahad following quickly. They followed the Woad until they reached a large tent at the edge of the camp. Leaving their horses, the two Sarmatian knights stepped inside. The tent was fitted with a large table, and lit by several oil lamps. Merlin was seated at the table with several other Woads next to him. One of them had his hands tied behind his back.

Lancelot and Galahad looked on puzzled, surprised.

Merlin addressed the knights without any delay. "We found the answers you wanted. We were betrayed as were you. You can take him with you to your commander." The Woad leader nodded to the man with the bound hands.

Relief flooded Lancelot. He was the first to find his tongue again. "What did happen?"

Merlin spoke to the bound Woad and ordered him to tell once more what he had told him earlier. When the man had finished, relief had left Lancelot once more, a feeling of dread, anger and pain in its place. He could hear Galahad cursing in their native tongue next to him.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot and Galahad had been traveling through the rain for half a day already, back to Hadrian's wall. Their captive was riding in front of Galahad. His hands were tied in the front this time and Lancelot had fastened the rope to Galahad's saddle as well to ensure that the Woad wouldn't be able to just jump off the horse.

Lancelot suddenly became aware that they were being followed. Woads, he knew immediately. He turned around to Galahad and signaled to him to urge his horse on to as much speed as she could muster. The grey mare was strong and fast but she was carrying two men.

Lancelot lead the way, his bow ready in his hand. Still unexpectedly arrows flew by his head. He yelled to Galahad to take the path to their right, while he pulled back his own horse, turning the stallion around and racing after Galahad.

Woads appeared on the path before Galahad, effectively blocking the way in front of him. He drew his sword from the sheath hanging over the mare's shoulder while he pulled her to a stop at the same time. Lancelot was next to him within seconds. The dark knight jumped from his horse while reaching over his head for his twin swords.

Lancelot realized immediately that they were outnumbered, that they could never take on such a large group and expect to come out on the winning side. He let the rage inside him consume him and lend him strength to fight with everything he had. He wielded the twin swords with as much precision and vigor as he always did and soon several dead Woads were lying at his feet. He tried to look around him to see how Galahad was faring, but the younger knight had been driven away from him and was engaged in battle several dozen feet away. Lancelot did notice that the Woad that had been their captive was now freed and watching the fight.

Suddenly the sound of Galahad screaming out in pain reached him and he turned around in time to watch how the young Sarmatian was forced on his knees. Galahad tried to get up but his opponent was raising his sword for a final swing already.