Lancelot enjoyed riding. He enjoyed the freedom of cantering away from the Fort. Today, he was following a path through the forest. Tristran had been around this particular area recently and declared it a Woad-free zone so Lancelot was enjoying the moment. A bird of prey circled above him. He wouldn't put it passed Tristran to have sent his hawk to keep an eye on him. He smiled at the thought. Tristran trusted no one but himself and he was a difficult soul to penetrate.
Unfortunately, Lancelot's musings meant that he was no longer paying attention to the path, unlike his horse, Gwen. A small deer shot out of the trees across Gwen's path. Taken by surprise, the mare reared up. Lancelot was an excellent horseman but he was relaxed and taken by surprise. He was thrown off Gwen in a most undignified manner. He rolled to right himself but luck was against him. Gwen had been startled next to a dried up pond. The base of the pond was now thickly carpeted with leaves and, as Lancelot rolled down the side to the base, he would have been assured of a soft landing if it hadn't been for the rather large rock near the bottom. Lancelot's head came in contact with it and he was knocked unconscious.
As he lay motionless at the bottom of the pit, Gwen considered the situation. She waited for a while, searched for food and finally decided that, as Lancelot was obviously not going to take her back to the stables for lunch, she would have to make a her own way home. She turned and started to trot back towards the Fort.
Bors's head ached. He walked along the top of the Fort parapet, hoping the breeze would bring some relief. The previous night had been enjoyable but the after-effects suggested that he had perhaps carried things too far. Still, there were no battles to be fought today so he would be easy on himself.
He looked into the distance. The views of the English countryside, which were currently so serene and not scarred with blood, made him smile. He saw a horse trotting up to the Fort. He frowned in puzzlement. The horse was saddled yet riderless. He scanned the horizon for someone but there was no one about. He wondered if the horse had unseated the rider. He sighed. He wished he could ignore it as he had so wanted a quiet day but he was curious.
His curiosity led him out of the Fort and over to the horse. He calmed her and stroked her nose, recognising the mare.
"Gwen? Was Lancelot riding you? Where have you left him?" A big bear of a man, Bors had, in spite of himself, learned to speak soothingly to horses in a similar way to Tristran. He couldn't pretend that he understood them but he appreciated that sometimes you needed to play their game to get the best out of them.
He started to follow Gwen's hoof marks in the soft mud back the way she had come. Gwen turned and followed Bors who caught hold of her bridle, hoping she would provide some clues. After a half an hour's walk Gwen recognised the area where Lancelot had so suddenly dismounted. She stopped and harrumphed a couple of times. Bors took the hint and looked around. He saw the still form at the bottom of the dip and let out a curse. He let go of Gwen and hurried down. He sank to his knees by the body and pulled it over towards him.
"Lancelot! Bloody hell, what have you done to yourself?"
Lancelot moaned in reply and tried to put a hand to his aching head but failed miserably.
"You big twat," scolded Bors. His actions, however, were a good deal gentler than his words. He checked Lancelot over, making sure that nothing was broken and there were no wounds on his body. He quickly established that the only damage was to Lancelot's head. The wound on his head had bled but clotted quickly and had damp leaves stuck to it which Bors decided it was prudent not to remove at that time.
He glanced up to the track. Gwen was waiting patiently.
"Okay, Lancelot, let's get you to a healer. This might hurt but you can't stay here all day."
Bors was strong and well-built. He put all his efforts into lifting Lancelot into his arms as carefully as possible so as not to distress him further.
"We'll soon have you home," he said, more to himself then Lancelot who was drifting in and out of consciousness. He struggled up the slope and up to Gwen.
"Hold still, you silly nag," he said teasingly but gently. He tenderly placed Lancelot over Gwen's saddled and secured him. Then he started to lead the horse back to the Fort, slowly so as not to jolt Lancelot.
Back at the Fort Bors took Lancelot straight to a healer. The healer tended to the wound and mixed some herbs as a poultice and others as a drink for when Lancelot was able to take it.
Bors sat beside Lancelot for some time in the healer's recovery room, willing his speedy recovery. The healer assured him that he could go but he didn't wish to leave Lancelot alone. After a while there was commotion and Arthur entered the room. Bors was shaken from his thoughts. When he saw Arthur his demeanour changed. He stood up abruptly.
"Stupid fool couldn't keep his arse in the saddle."
"Will he be okay?" asked Arthur, full of concern.
"He's coming round now. His pretty head's taken worst knocks than that. I have to go."
Bors strode out and Arthur took his place.