Thankyou so much to all my lovely reviewers! because of all the reviews I've written this chapter as fast as I could. it's a bit shorter than usual, but the next one will be longer. hope you all like!

Arthur, the knights and Guinevere fired arrow after arrow, always aiming for the edges of the group of Saxon. Men fell and as the other saw the pattern they bunched up, trying to avoid the deadly arrows.

The commander, Cynric I think his name was, yelled for his men to hold the lines as the ice started to crack and grind. I flew lower, desperate to see what would happen.

Arthur crouched down and put a hand on the ice. He shook his head, and with my hawk sight I could see the anger, horror and resignation on his face.

I was to far up to hear what they were saying, but the knights and Guinevere fell back and drew their swords. They were going to fight. Dagonet tossed his sword in his hands, restless. He sighed, threw down his sword and took up his axe. Then, with a cry, he ran onto the ice.

I felt as though my heart had jumped up into my throat as crossbow bolts whistled around the huge knight. The others took up their bows again, shooting for the men who were aiming at Dagonet.

Dagonet hacked at the ice with his huge axe. It started to crack and splinter, and Cynric renewed his yells of "kill him!". I had to do something – any minute now Dagonet was going to be shot. But what could I do? I'm a hawk – I can't stop the arrows from hitting Dag.

Or could I? I couldn't stop the arrows once they were in the air, but I could spoil the Saxon's aim…

I dived, knowing that I was putting myself in danger now. I screeched loudly and raked my claws across a Saxon's face as he fired. I heard him swear as his arrow went wide.

I dived and pecked, clawed and screeched – anything to distract the Saxon. One aimed at me, and I felt the edge of the bolt brush the feathers on my wings.

I rose into the air, and looked for Dagonet. What I saw almost made me fall out of the air. Dagonet had two crossbow bolts – one in his left arm, the other in his right shoulder. the wounds weren't all that serious, but he had lost a lot of blood - the snow around him was stained red. Were either of them serious? I couldn't tell, but I had done my best.

It was up to the healers now to see whether or not he lived.

Tristan scouted ahead, but I stayed with the other knights to watch Dagonet. He was pale, unconscious and shivering – but he had a chance.

Tristan came back and reported that it was clear to go ahead. He called me to his arm, and I gladly landed. He fed me a piece of meat and smiled slightly.

'So, you try to help us, hey?' his voice was low and teasing.

I clicked my beak and nudged his hand. He stroked my smooth feathers, then nudged his horse into a trot.

As soon as we reached the fort, Dagonet was rushed inside to a healer. Bors waited impatiently as the Bishop rambled on about "how great God is, to let you triumph!". He obviously just wanted to be with his friend, who even now was dangerously close to death.

I didn't hear what Arthur said, but it had an interesting effect on the Bishop. He looked bitter, angry – even guilty? Lancelot snatched their release papers from a Roman and handed them to each of the knights. He gave two to Bors – "for Dagonet".

Gawain, Galahad and Tristan stood still for a moment, none of them feeling the triumph and happiness they had expected. Gawain glanced the way that Bors had gone, hurrying to see Dagonet.

Tristan sighed and held his arm out for me. I flew down from where I had been perched on the roof, and he headed towards the stables. He gave his horse half an apple, then ate the other half himself. He sighed heavily.

'You know, girl,' he said softly. 'For years, we've waited for these papers. Flimsy bits of parchment that hold the worth of our lives. But now that we have them, they don't mean anything. Dagonet might die…'

He sighed again, and rubbed a hand over his face. He seemed suddenly tired. I nudged his hand softly with my beak, trying to comfort him.

'If he dies, the Romans will pay.' Tristan's voice was low and raw. 'He deserved his life.'

I chirped softly and shifted uneasily on his arm. He looked up, and gave a slightly twisted smile.

'Am I scaring you?' he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'Sometimes I scare myself.'

He shook his head, left the stable. He watched Gawain and Galahad head towards the tavern, but their step was slow and they were silent. With Dagonet near death, all of the knights felt that their freedom had come at a high price.

That evening, and the sombre mood still had not lifted. Tristan didn't join the other knights in the tavern. Instead he took another apple and headed towards Hadrian's Wall.

He sat on the wall, far enough away from the gate that the Roman patrol wouldn't disturb him. I hovered high above, watching as he carved his apple with his knife and ate.

Something in the distance flashed in the light of the setting sun. A sudden chill struck through me as it flashed again. I flew as fast as I could towards it, and my suspicions were confirmed. The flash had been the sun reflecting off a sword blade.

Saxons. An unreasonable hate built up in me. It was because of the Saxons that Dagonet was dying. Because of them that the knights had risked their life. I wanted to kill them with my own hands.

Instead I turned and flew fast back to Tristan. He looked up as I landed beside him. I screeched and flapped my wings as I turned to look towards the Saxons. Their drums were now faintly audible, and Tristan stood with a curse. He hurled what was left of his apple to the ground and hurried back to the fort. I flew above him.

Arthur was fetched by Jols, and he came running to the wall with Guinevere close behind. Lancelot scowled out at the hundreds of campfires. The sound of war songs drifted towards us on the cold night air.

Arthur was shocked, but resigned. He knew that the knights weren't in any condition to fight – Gawain, Galahad and Bors drunk, Dagonet dying, Tristan and Lancelot mutinous. The half Roman commander looked down at the frightened villagers. He shook his head and turned back to the Sarmatians.

'Knights,' he said. 'My journey with you must end here. May God go with you.'

He turned and strode from the wall. Lancelot and Guinevere glared at each other, then followed. Tristan looked at Bors, who was drunk but worried over Dag. Then the dark Sarmatian turned and left.

Gawain and Galahad looked at each other, then followed Tristan down the steps. Bors looked out once more at the Saxon, then staggered off towards the room where Dagonet was.

I looked once more at the Saxon camped outside the wall, then took to the air. Tomorrow, the Saxon would begin their assault on Hadrian's Wall. The knights would leave – and Arthur would stay. Stay alone to face the army.

I shuddered and flew after Tristan.

The next morning, the knights left. I saw Dagonet as he was carried out of his room and into a wagon – the same wagon where he had tended Lucan. The boy was inseparable from the gentle knight, and climbed in after him.

Dagonet did not look good. He had not regained consciousness, and his wounds were beginning to get infected despite everything the healers were doing. He was pale and in a fever – I knew there was little hope he would make it.

The knights led the caravan away from the fort. The Bishop was once again in his carriage, staring out at the figure of Arthur on the hill. From my perch on Tristan's arm I could see Arthur.

Arthur was on his horse, clad in full armour on the top of a hill, perfectly visible to everyone. In one hand he held a standard. He looked like a God of war, and I could sense the knight's pain at leaving their commander behind to die.

At last Bors could stand it no more. He kicked his horse into a canter, halted at the base of the hill and raised his sword. He called a war cry, but for a moment Arthur didn't answer. Bors lowered his sword, looking stunned.

Then Arthur answered, raising his standard. Bors watched a moment longer, then wheeled his stallion around and back to his position riding beside the cart that held Dagonet.

Tristan sighed, and I could feel frustration growing in him. He wanted to fight, he wanted to take out his anger. The fury he had felt at Arthur the last few days was gone – turning his back on his commander was hard, and even harder was running from the Saxon.

Eventually we were out of sight of Arthur. Then the war drums started pounding, and a shout from the Saxon was audible even from where we were.

The horses neighed and turned, fighting their riders. They knew the sound of war, and didn't understand why they were running away. Lancelot calmed his horse, his face serious. He looked up with a sigh, his eyes dark.

Gawain gave a slight smile, then looked at Galahad. His closest companion grinned fiercely, and Bors looked to where Vanora and his children were watching him. Vanora nodded slowly, understanding, and one of Bors' numerous children raised a hand in farewell.

'Hey.' Tristan turned to me and clicked his tongue. 'You are free.'

He raised his arm and I took off. I knew that this might be the last time I ever saw him alive. I circled once above their heads, then flew off into the smoke.

My heart felt like it was being cut in half. I wanted desperately for Tristan to stay safe, but I knew that he would never settle to a life of peace. He was a man of war, and always would be.

The smoke cleared enough a little later for me to see the knights with Arthur on the hill. They raised their standards, screamed a war cry, then plunged them into the ground.

I wheeled away, heading for the forest. I would always remember the knights like that – silhouetted on the crest of a hill, ready for battle.

But it pained me to know that this might be the last time I saw them before they left this world.

So, Dagonet isn't dead yet. my excuse for that is the hawk managed to distract the Saxons enough so that their arrows didn't hit him in the chest and kill him. Hope it didn't seem too unlikely.

next is Badon Hill. a bit of suspense here, because I haven't yet decided who lives through it.

Anyway, please review!