Merlin's Gold

Merlin's Gold - Chapter 15 - Lending a Hand

Chapter 15 – Lending a Hand

Carne came to with bright sunlight spearing into his brain. He rolled over, groaned and lifted himself to his feet, staggering as a wave of nausea overcame him. He sank back to his knees and paused to gather his breath. As his vision swam back into focus, he swore and forced himself back to his feet. Looking at the sun, he got his bearings, and moved slowly and painfully to the north, blood still oozing from the gash in his head.

After a few miles, he heard hooves and stopped, squinting into the sun. Recognising the stark white shield of Grayle, he waved his arms, fighting against a new wave of nausea, and sank to his knees again, passing out in the dusty grass.

"Here, drink a little of this." The calm tones of a recognised voice brought him back from the darkness, and he opened his mouth. Carne spluttered but managed to swallow a small mouthful of water, opening his eyes to see the concerned face of Gawain above him.

"Are you able to tell us what happened?" asked Percival, concern etching his features as he appeared from over Gawain's shoulder.

"Traitors, my Lord. They've taken Mark. I'm sorry, Sir Knight, we tried but we were outnumbered." 

Carne clenched his teeth and forced himself to his feet. Looking at the group of men he nodded at them in greeting. Battle ready men nodded back at him. Merlin, Percival, Gawain and Grayle, with a dozen strong group of soldiers from Tintagel, Exeter and Camelot, one of the many mixed patrol groups Morholt had instigated to build trust amongst the men. He looked back at Percival. "Jowan betrayed us. He was riding to the rear of the group. We'd spotted a small Saxon raiding party and were readying our weapons when Jowan took out the two soldiers who had ridden along with us and turned on me. He clattered me across the back of the head, and that's the last thing I really recall. He knocked me off my horse and all I remember is a lot of shouting, the Saxons coming up to us, and I passed out.

"When I came to, I was alone with two dead bodies. Mark and Camlan were missing. May I have permission to come along, Sir Percival? I have a score to settle."

Percival looked at the grim-faced and bloody man and nodded. "Ride with Grayle. Which way do we need to go?"

The man pointed to the south, and soon they were retracing his footsteps, tracking the raiding party southwards.

~

Mark opened his eye, his vision restricted not only by losing the sight on his left-hand side but by the tears of pain and humiliation blurring his view. This was not the way he wanted to die, mewling and screaming and unable to fight. This was not how a king should face the enemy. The pain of his wounds reminded him yet again of where he was. Morgause had left him tied to the tree in silence, presumably letting him suffer to build the suspense of what she would do to him next. He could still feel the fingers in his left hand, even though he knew it was gone: knew because she had triumphantly waved it in front of his eyes, allowing one of her men to undo his left forearm so he could see the tarred stump. She had shown him the burnt and sorry remnants of his eye too, capering madly around him with it held to her forehead, making jokes about having a third eye, while the laughter of her sycophants echoed around the copse. The jeering laughter of her men had been constant throughout his ordeal. Her small band of men of course now included Jowan. And one more.

Camlan.

What a fool he'd been. He'd trusted so easily, blinded by the man's skill and prowess as a warrior and teacher. This time he had fallen hard for giving that trust. Seeing Jowan betray him had been bad enough, but to see Camlan leaning over him, obviously enjoying his misery, had brought a fresh howl of misery to his lips. No wonder they had been taken so easily if Camlan had refused to fight.