"For the last time," the Decurion was saying as the door swung open, "where are the dissident Gauls?" He had a fistful of Beatnix the Druid's tunic.

The druid drew himself up straight, his face becoming visible from the doorway. He had a bruise on his cheek, and the eye on that side was swollen shut. Still, his other eye seemed to look down on the Roman in contempt. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"But we do," Asterix's voice rang out.

Obelix was already moving forward. The Decurion whirled just in time to get a fist in the face. Obelix grabbed him by the sandals, swinging him around his head like a slingshot to knock the stunned legionaries down like ninepins. They ran as if the hounds of hell were after them.

Asterix stepped forward. "O Druid." He had felt another jolt of fear when he'd reached for the sword at his belt – only to find no belt, and no sword. They hadn't deemed it necessary when he and Obelix were just out walking. That was it—from now on he wasn't going anywhere without it. That settled in his mind, he guided the druid to a stool, gently sitting him down. "Are you hurt?"

The druid grinned, showing bloody teeth—thankfully all still there. "It was worth it to spit in his eye. And here I'm supposed to be a pacifist…"

"Here." Obelix appeared next to Beatnix, holding out a cold compress.

Asterix and Beatnix both blinked up at Obelix. The druid reached out and took it, placing it over his swollen eye. "We'll make a druid's assistant out of you yet, menhir-maker," he smiled. "Fetch me the potions for pain and swelling, there's a good lad."

Asterix stared as Obelix rushed to do the druid's bidding, smoothly retrieving the potions from the shelves at the rear of the hut. He found two goblets and measured a dose into each. "Here you are," Obelix said, handing the goblets to the druid. He waited till Beatnix had drained both, then plucked them back in one big hand, grabbed the Decurion by the leg in the other, and carried the whole out to the rainwater drain. For an instant, it occurred to Asterix that him getting injured might not have been the worst thing in the world.

Obelix's voice echoed out with the sound of water splashing. "What do you want me to do with this one?"

"Ah, just dump him in the forest somewhere," called the druid. "The other ones are already spilling the beans to their commanding officer."

Obelix called something back, but Asterix wasn't listening. Their commanding officer… He couldn't help a chill at the thought of the centurion's cold, smug face as he'd ordered the whipping. The agony seemed to resound through him afresh, the desperation, the weakness… he shivered.

"All right, Asterix?" Obelix's arm, strong and sure, wrapped around Asterix's elbow.

"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes…" Asterix faced the druid unhappily, taking in the compress covering his face. "I am sorry, O Beatnix. It was us thumping the first patrol that led them to come out here."

"I don't mind. They think I'm bonkers. It protects me, pretty much. You'd best be on your way. They won't be sending out another patrol until tomorrow, and by then—"

"No." Asterix's insides burned with the bitter ache of fear, but he stood tall and faced the druid resolutely. "No, O Druid. We're not such cowards as to run off and leave you to face the music."

Obelix stepped up beside him. "That's right!"

"Be reasonable. If they find me all alone—"

"They'll torture you to find out where we went." Asterix couldn't quite help the hitch in his voice. By the immediate pressure of Obelix's hand on his shoulder, he could tell he hadn't managed to hide it.

"But," the druid was still talking, "if I—"

"If you nothing." Asterix attempted to smile reassuringly. "Obelix here loves a punch-up."

"It's you I'm worried about, Asterix!" said the druid. "You are still nowhere near being able to—"

"It's all right," Asterix reassured him. "I know enough to stay out of it." Galling, but true.

"I trust your discretion." The druid rose, stoking the fire under his cauldron. "The thing is…" He trailed off.

It was Obelix who probed, "What?"

"Well. It's just that their centurion, Pontius Undulivicius, is… rather perseverant."

Asterix frowned, eyes narrowing. "You mean he might come back for you after we're gone."

Beatnix stirred the cauldron, face in shadow. "If he never finds you here, then he can't…"

"He's found us. We've already thumped two patrols," said Asterix, seeing guilt flit across Obelix's face. "The Romans know we're here already." He couldn't blame his friend, but the end result was that… His brain was spinning furiously, looking for a way out. "If they don't find us here, they'll find you instead, and then…" He couldn't help closing his eyes, just for a second, and there was no way of suppressing the shudder that rattled through him. He couldn't seem to think. The thought of the centurion taking the reclusive druid as he had taken him, torturing him to tell the Romans where they had gone – or just punishing him for sheltering them…

Obelix's arm was warm and soft around his shoulders, careful not to touch where it still hurt. The contact calmed Asterix, and he clenched his fists, pulling himself together. He could almost physically feel a pulse of strength shoring up his depleted reserves through his friend's skin. "We're staying." He took in a rather unsteady breath. "Whether we have to fight them off or do something else to get them to leave you alone, we're not leaving you in the lurch. A fine repayment for your hospitality that would be."

"Really, I've been living here for years, and—"

"It's settled." Asterix folded his arms across his chest, noting how slight the pain was from that movement, knowing it would have been impossible a month ago. "We're staying." Behind him, Obelix murmured agreement.

Beatnix half-sighed. In truth, he would have expected nothing less. He could take care of himself, but, he had to admit, it was a relief to have the two warriors there. "In that case," he said, resignedly, "have an early meal and get some rest, because I'm pretty sure they're going to be swarming all over here first thing tomorrow."