A/N: thanks for all the great reviews. I guess I'll stick to this format, since it seems to be popular. This chptr is a little hard to follow because Germanus's dialogue is written with his accent included. Also I just realized my comp. has been auto correcting "Gawain" to Gwain, ACK! So sorry for the misspelling.
"Lancelot" said Tristran quietly; "If we do not remove that arrow, she will die" He looked up at the knight
"Best do it now when she's only semiconscious" Lancelot swallowed loudly then turned her over. There protruding from her shoulder was a barbed arrowhead, glistening with her blood. As quickly and gently as he could he snapped the arrowhead, jarring the shaft. Her eyes sprang open in pain as she moaned feverishly. Closing his eyes and praying to gods he claimed not to believe in he turned her back over and taking a deep breath, pulled on the shaft of the arrow. She screamed, writhing in agony, the tears ran down her face, mixing with the light rain that had begun to fall. He stopped, wild-eyed and panted,
"I cannot do it. To cause her this pain is something I cannot do"
"You must" urged Tristran.
"I don't like anything that puts a man on his knees" he thought and dropped and with a hiss, pulled the shaft clear of her shoulder. Shrieking again at the unimaginable pain, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed again, this time completely unconscious, her face pale with a blue cast. Close to tears himself, he picked her up gently, and admitted,
"she needs a doctor" Tristran nodded and Arthur, his brow furrowed as he walked over to an imposing old man on horseback, watching them.
"Bishop Germanus." He said decisively. The man had a pointed gray beard with the wary look of a politician about him. He smiled and nodded saying in a heavily accented tone
"Ahhrthoor Cahstoos" "Thee eemage ohhf your fahhther" Arthur smiled briefly at this then turned as he looked worriedly at Lancelot, who held Camille, suspicious of the old Roman. Underneath the carriage, a short, scrawny, rodent faced man mumbled in Latin fervently, tears of absolute fear drying on his face. Crawling to the edge he peered out and asked Galahad
"Who is she; this demon woman casts black magic as she kills I heard the barbarians refer to her as 'twayblade'?"
"Just be glad she saved your disgusting hide" Galahad spat at the man, furious
"Yeah" agreed Bors "I personally would have left you to rot" then added on second thought
"Or maybe just dispatch you myself right off the bat to save from hearing the annoying whinging coming from beneath the wagon where you was hiding." The little man, who's name was Horton, was far too cowardly to glare at Bors, though he thought himself superior, and so lapsed back into his tearful sniveling.
"But she is a barbarian, like them! Are they all devils?" As if overdone by this thought, he commenced fervent Latin mumblings.
"Save your prayers boy, your god doesn't live here" Gawain ordered disgustedly. Thoughtfully, he looked down at a Woad, bleeding and clutching at his entrails weakly in the mud. Taking pity on the man he sent him off to the next world with a blow of his mace, spattering the carriage wheels-and Horton, with the man's blood. With a terrified squeak, the little rat-man scuttled deeper into the underbelly of the carriage. Back with Bishop Germanus, Arthur asked quietly,
"Bishop? That woman with your caravan, how did she come to join you?" The old man frowned
"Youh meeen that one dreassed aas a mahn?" his words contemptuous as he pursed his lips in distaste. Not liking the man's superiority but needing more information he pressed,
"Yes, how did she come to you?" "Wehl" the bishop answered, seemingly bored "Shee rohd ahp clahming she waas ohn a meesion for rohm. Wee deedn't beeleeve her but she hahd a message frohm wohn ohf my supeeriors. Wee where to gif her the location ohf the pope's godchild, Alecto, as she had urgent beesnus weeth hees fahther." Arthur looked shocked at this
"She was on a mission for Rome? Are you sure?" Now looking rather annoyed the Germanus replied
"Ohf course. Thahts what I said eesn't eet?" Concerned Arthur nodded and then left to speak to Lancelot. He found his friend at the other end of the caravan, administering a rough bandage to Camille's shoulder, in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He looked up his eyes frantic
"We must leave now Arthur. I have to get her to a doctor or she.." he broke off, not allowing himself to give voice to his fear. "I understand Lancelot, we will leave right away" Arthur reassured him. He turned and went to retrieve his horse, then gave the command to move out. Tristran, standing nearby held Camille as Lancelot climbed up into the saddle. Tristran lifted her, surprised to find that she was very light, and handed her into Lancelot's arms who laid her head against his chest, before wrapping his arms around her to find the reins. The other knights gathered around his horse as if they felt that by surrounding her, protecting her, they could ward off the death that was slowly gaining a handhold upon her. When they were finally in sight of the wall, they gave a collective sigh, and unwittingly increased their pace, desperate to get her to a doctor. As they clattered through the gates, Lancelot could not help but remember, watching her that night as, in spite of her, that single tear had slipped down her cheek. He knew there had been others she had not allowed herself to weep in front of him. In spite of her care not to be seen, he could had heard her sobs, proof that she was not the enchantress or spirit they had once believed her to be, but a woman, who even behind her pride, could not keep the tears from falling as she rode off to what should have been her death. How had she known, he wondered, that she would die? And was it fate, or just a coincidence that cheated death that he had found her in time? The horses pawed to a stop, and carefully dismounting, he roared for a doctor. Almost frightened by his vehemence, willing hands, pushed forward a little man in a gray tunic, who glanced around nervously before stuttering
"I'm not really a physician, really more of a simple herbalist but-" he got no further. Tristran swept in behind declaring,
"You'll do" and marched the man off to a room, followed by the knights and Lancelot, who held Camille as if she was made of glass and would shatter in his arms. Together the two men laid her on a bed and Lancelot smoothed her hair back from her face tenderly before retreating behind the little herbalist anxiously. Gently the man eased off the rough bandage, his eyes widening at the angry wound that met his eyes. Peering closer, he smiled suddenly.
"When I first saw this wound, I was sure the lady had internal bleeding and would die despite any precautions I might take. But it seems however" he went on hurriedly, nervous as Lancelot's knuckles turned white "That the arrow was poisoned, a common plant venom found in a meadow flower. Luckily, I have the antidote for this and if administered within the next hour, I must say I believe your lady will be quite herself in about a week." A smile split all of the faces in the room, as Bors swept the little herbalist into a bone crushing bear hug in thanks. Tristran spoke for Lancelot, who was far too overwhelmed to say a word.
"Many thanks sir. Arthur's knights will never forget your kindness this day. Should you ever need the assistance of a strong hand, bow, or blade, do not delay in seeking us out." The other men nodded, grateful, although more than one found it rather humorous that the seven most elite warriors in Briton owed a debt to a short little village herbalist, who made up for his size in stoutness of heart. The herbalist ran off and returned a few minutes later, with a tiny bottle of serum, which he applied with an even tinier brush on her wound. A shiver ran through her body and a moment later she opened her eyes, blinked, and whimpered softly. Kneeling by the low bed Lancelot released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
"How?" she asked weakly "You saved me?"
"We saved you" he smiled nodding towards the rest of the men who were smiling contentedly.
"Couldn't let him try by himself" Bors chuckled "He would have gotten us all killed!" She laughed with the rest but suddenly spasms of coughing racked her body, making her shudder and gasp as she sank back on the pillow
Pleeeeeeeeease review! Check out Lalane's Galahad fic for probably the biggest laugh yr gonna get in a long time