Thanks reviewers and boondockgal who has reviewed all my king Arthur stories. Cheers
Tristan awoke to the gentle sway of the caravan; his head spun as he got up.
Steadying himself against the wooden frame he glanced out of the door, looking for away to leave unnoticed.
Arthur rode in front of him; halting his escape "Mount up Tristan." he said harshly, before trotting up to join Bors.
"Thank you for your compassion," Tristan snapped back.. He swung onto his horse from where he stood and rode up, just behind Gawain. He winced, willing a side path to appear: riding home with his sullen companions was not a welcoming option.
His head was still spinning and he grabbed the saddle to hold himself steady. Gawain glanced back at him worriedly.
"Tristan," he mouthed, "Are you ok?" Tristan nodded slightly and Gawain copped a cuff on the ear form Bors.
" Tristan ride ahead and check that the rode is clear,"
Tristan inwardly groaned; he had no wish to bolt up ahead, but did so anyway.
It was becoming increasingly clear that he was not doing a very good job as scout: he was having too much difficulty staying awake and fighting back the dizziness to see or hear anyone in the woods, however if there had been anyone there, they would have shot him by now, as he was making enough nose for an entire army. Apparently the Woads hiding in the trees agreed; two arrows flew from afore mentioned: one struck him squarely in the shoulder. Tristan spun to see where it had come from, but before he could find its source another arrow went hurtling past his face; the throb in his head increased tenfold and he tumbled to the ground hitting the snow with a dull thud. His horse neighed and bolted to avoid the volley of arrows, leaving her master lying in the snow.
Arthur looked up at the sound of hooves scrambling; Tristan's horse bolted into view, her rider missing. Arthur grabbed the reins and looked back along he track worriedly. He had been too hard on Tristan he knew that now. A feeling of sickness was rising in his chest, he could never live with himself if he had brought Tristan to harm, but if he looked for him he mightn't live at all.
Flashback
The Bishop smiled warmly but fakely at Arthur, who nodded in return. ""Arthur!" he greeted him with the same feigned warmness. "I have something I need to tell you, come let us go somewhere quieter to talk. Feeling confused Arthur followed the Bishop in to a quiet side room. He could not see why he would bother: there was enough noise in the tavern to mask even the loudness conversation. " Arthur," the Bishop repeated, all pretence of happiness falling from his voice. "Arthur you a good commander. A Roman commander" Arthur nodded slowly. Was there going to be a point to this little conversation? "But Arthur." The Bishop went on oblivious to the sceptical look in Arthur's eyes " I have seen you men disobey you and go unpunished."
"You point. Bishop" Arthur said calmly. " Arthur," the Bishop's voice lowed dangerously "If you want to command any one who is hurt or lost disobeying you cannot be helped or found."
When Arthur still failed to acknowledge this, the Bishop's voice rose to a shout. "Arthur by allowing them to do this you are displaying no more wisdom then the pagan savages". Arthur's voice had risen too. " By allowing them to do this, Bishop, I keep their respect and trust. They are my men I command them how I wish." The Bishop opened his mouth and then closed it again, mastering himself. " We have no need to fight like peasants Arthur." He said his voice silly yet threatening. " I will not impose on you how to control your men. I trust your judgment Arthur, but if you are lenient with your men or if they disobey you, someone will be punished" the Bishop drew a swift finer across his jewel encrusted throat then smiled again with all the warm of an ice storm "Remember this Arthur and good luck."