" Arthur?"
It was Gawain; his voice was unusually shrill, his worried eyes darted onto every tree. "Well?" he cried incredulously. His horse snorted and pranced around Arthur's. Arthur sighed and cast a woeful look into the snow. He knew by law he was not allowed to follow his knight, but it pained him not to abandon is post and keep searching.
"Gawain ride ahead." he called with forced indifference. Gawain nodded and bolted off.
He retuned a few minutes later
"Nothing, he must have strayed off the path, he would not last long in this." Gawain looked frantic; his rational half was telling him to do as Arthur said, but blind instinct and care for his comrade was screaming at him to bolt back and search for Tristan till he was found. Arthur nodded. Gawain's eyes flashed, "You would just leave him to die!" he yelled drawing his knife and advancing on Arthur. Arthur raised a hand and grabbed Gawain's wrist
"I have no choice Gawain." He answered wearily. Gawain looked sceptical. But he rode beside Arthur, who repeated everything the bishop had told him.
If Arthur had thought that Gawain's anger would subside he was wrong. He remained silent only long enough for Arthur to finish before exploding:
"Arthur you won't …..you cannot…. Bloody Romans!" he yelled finally and jabbing his horse in the gut, he rode off, sending snow into Arthur's face.
00oo00oo
They made slow progress, arriving despondent and soaked, at the gate. The Bishop greeted them "Arthur, I see you have one less." He gave a satisfied smirk. Arthur looked at him bitterly
"Tristan fell and we could not find him."
"Did you not look for your knight Arthur?" the Bishop taunted, smirk still firmly in pace.
"He released one of out prisoners."
"Then he is a traitor and what you did was just."
Arthur was little comforted by these words and he let it show.
00ooo000o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Tristan shivered. He opened his eyes, feeling slightly disorientated. The trail ahead of him was blurry at the edges and the falling snow only severed to further mar his vision. Tristan pulled himself out of the snow and quickly tried to figure out where he was. An arrow was firmly lodged in his arm; it's dark and crude shaft protruding from his armour. Considering that it was doing a good job of stopping the flow of blood and the fact he had nothing to bind it with, Tristan concluded it should stay there. The best plan now was to walk while he could and try to reach some form of civilisation.
00ooo000ooo0000ooo00000ooo
Thanks for the reviews. This is a Looooong story so bear with me. More soon.
