Attack of a Magical Creature (Lancelot and Caitrin

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After leaving Arthur, Gwen, and Lancelot, at the camp outside of Hengist's castle, Lancelot had traveled from town to town, making sure to keep his distance from Camelot. He had received new energy and purpose, something that Gwen had supplied him in their brief encounter.. Before he had only been interested in his own survival, and now he had returned, at least partially, to his knightly purpose of serving and protecting others,

He had little besides his two long-swords, his shield, his bow, and his horse, but he always did what he could, where he could. One day, as he was moving on the road between villages, near the edge of the enchanted Forest of Balor, he ran across a mother and a group of small children, who appeared to be gathering some flowers from the near the roadside, which brought a smile to his face. Suddenly, though, he heard a screech from the nearby tree-tops.

Already dismounted he drew his long-swords and tried to both identify the source of the sound, and take a defensive position between whatever-it-was, and the people by the roadside. He had only enough time to get them into a nearby ditch, when he saw the form descend rapidly. He could not identify it, but when his sword-thrust into the winged creature did not penetrate it, he suspected it to be a magical creature, similar to the Gryphon he had faced more than a year before.

He successfully drove off the the attacking beast, who had probably thought the people would be easy pickings, but Lancelot failed to consider that they might attack in pairs. Without warning another of these winged creatures had descended and attacked him with its talons, scraping two claw marks in his back. In pain, he whirled, just in time for a talon to scrape the front of his shoulder.

In the midst of the struggle the family had run off to safety from the ditch, and either because of the resistance or the fact that the quarry had fled, the creatures retreated to the forest. Lancelot, though, now alone and wounded, collapsed to his knees, feeling strangely weak. His horse was still with him, but the prospect of aid from others seemed remote.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin was pleased with the mornings work. She had walked into Camelot at first light and was now taking the longer route back through the woods to her home. She was wearing a long and elegant cloak this morning and had her hood up halfway on her head, letting her bold red hair peek through. Her dress was in the fitted style and hung around her waist with a thin braided belt. The dress was elegant, soft material and as a deeper blue than her cloak. The trimmings on her dress were beautifully stitched in black. Her sleeves were deep at the front and everything about her screamed that she was of noble birth.

She stepped along the forest path, jumping over a small cluster of rocks for her own amusement and making sure the woven basket she was carrying did not spill its contents. It had been a slow month for Caitrin, with the weather so changeable she had seldom been riding as her Uncle had worried for her health if she did. With nothing else to occupy her thoughts, she had returned to her old habits of herblore. Caitrin had been warned not to spread it about publically that she had been trained in herblore. Since Helgund had been her nurse for years, Caitrin considered herself well practised. Although her Uncle disapproved of it, he had not complained when she had nursed him out of his fever the previous winter with no other reward than the cost of the herbs.

Now Caitrin was more confident in her gifts she had begun to gather a store of medicine’s. She had no intention to sell them, but it would be less expensive for her to nurse her Uncle’s peasants back to health rather than send for a physician from Camelot; and her Uncle enjoyed saving money. One of the tasks Caitrin had been instructed to complete was for one of the young girls who fancied the dairy farmer as her lover. Although Caitrin had tried to explain to the lass that she wasn’t some sort of miracle worker, or a witch, Caitrin did know of herbs which could enchant a lover. Helgund had taught her that twisting rosemary, which symbolised remembrance and love, with willowy stems in a sort of heart that it should attract a lover. Caitrin had never cared to believe it, but young women who came to Helgund swore by it; so who was she to deny popular opinion? Plus, it was a small sense of satisfaction as the young lady in question was lovely and deserved whatever man she wanted,

Caitrin had in her basket the rosemary and willowy stems and also had some assorted herbs for various brews. Her aunt had been suffering with headaches so that had been one of Caitrin’s main concerns. The forest was deathly quiet, as was customary. Caitrin was glad of it though, she had enough of noise and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

At least it was quiet until she heard the footsteps of others.
Against her better judgement, Caitrin rushed forwards, quickly enough to see a small group of people running in the opposite direction. Stunned she looked about, spotting a lone horse. It always pulled with Caitrin’s heartstrings as she hates seeing horses abandoned in the forest; most of the time it was because the rider had been thrown off or had been killed. She dreaded to think how she would feel if her mare ever went missing. Moving towards it, her eyes widened as she spotted a man huddled by the tree. She couldn’t make out if he were hurt or not but common sense told her that he was.

She dropped to her knees, still clinging to her basket and looked at the man, “Hello? Are you alright?”

[Deleted]

Lancelot was feeling weaker and weaker, and wondered if the weakness was from the loss of blood, or from some other cause. He could see the wound on the front of his shoulder, but the loss of blood did not seem to be too great. From the way that his back felt he could tell that the wounds there were across the middle of his back. He could tell neither how deep they were or what the blood loss was. He forced himself to think, and he knew that even some non-magical beasts had poisonous talons. If he was indeed poisoned by the talons of those creatures it could range from making him weak and dizzy to a near-certain death, as with the Questing creature.

If they were magical, he remembered from Gaius, it could make the poison more potent. And he had every reason to believe that it was a magical one. One place he decided he did not want to be was in or by the road-side. He preferred to be under the protective branches of a tree. He dropped both of his long-swords, whistled to his black stallion, Sher-Fore, to come to him, and he grabbed on to the horse’s bridle to help drag him the short distance to the tree, where he could lean up against its trunk. Is this how it was all going to end for him, he wondered. It was not quite what he had envisioned. He had seen himself on some battlefield taking an arrow for Arthur, or some other nobleman he would be defending. Still …. sacrificing his life so that some children could escape and live was a knightly way to die.

He was where he wanted to be now, but having his head elevated higher than the rest of his body meant that he was even weaker-feeling and dizzier than before, along with the energy he had expended to get there. Perhaps his only chance, and a slim one, was to send his black stallion out to search for some help. He doubted it, but perhaps the children and woman who had escaped might send someone back to help him. Chances were, he reckoned, that they would send someone back, eventually, to get his body, so that he could have a proper burial. He was not that far from Camelot he knew. Would his old friends within the city …. Merlin, Gwen, even Arthur even be aware of his passing? Stop that! ….. he told himself. He had been injured and wounded before, and survived. There was no reason why this would be different was there? Except …. there was something gnawing at the back of his mind that told him this was quite different. Anyway, his dizziness was now bad enough that he had trouble seeing.

He had trouble enough seeing that he was not sure that he could trust what his eyes were telling him. He saw what appeared to be a figure moving out of the forest towards him. But was it man or beast? As it approached it appeared to move as a woman moved, except it was a woman, by the trim of her dress that extended beyond her cloak, to be finely dressed. He could not see her face, but he saw a color, a distinctive shock of red, but the rest covered in a dark cloak. But whoever she was, and what station in life she occupied, what could she do to help him. As he heard her speak he could no longer hold his head up, and his chin sagged into his upper chest. “Hello? Are you alright?” He lifted his head slightly, his pale blue eyes slightly unfocused, and replied haltingly …… “attacked ….. flying beast …. talons …….. wounded ……. mmmmmmm”

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin wasn't panicked by the situation, it wasn't in her nature to panic with things like this. She'd seen death and injured men before; her father being a warrior it meant that it had been a common occurance since birth to hear of men she'd known to die or take ill. She settled herself down beside the man, taking a better view of the situation. He was well armed and well equipt so it was obvious he knew what he was doing. That made the situation more worrying because if he was some kind of knight then whatever had done this was obviously a strong creature.

Caitrin shifted her position to try to see if the man was externally injured in anyway. She winced slighly at the sight of a somewhat large wound on his shoulder. Just because she was used to these kind of sights did not mean that it made it any easier. It was a deep wound but as it was on his shoulder it hadn't hit any organs. Of course the main issue now was whether the wound was going to become septic and infected. He should probably count himself lucky to still be able to speak to her.

Even as the man spoke Caitrin was not fazed. She looked around her quickly and noted the beast must have run off. She nodded at him; he had handsome features and a stature which could only be suited to one of fighting for his living. Caitrin lifted her hood from her head and moved forwards to look at the wound properly; it would need treating. Caitrin was confident in her herblore but she worried that she couldn't treat this man by herself. She could probably have a crack at it but it wouldn't be the safest thing to do.

"Your wound needs treating." She said softly, but making sure he could understand her, "I can take you to Camelot?" She offered; he had a horse besides him so he was in a favourable situation. They could ride astride it and therefore get treated a lot quicker than if Caitrin was helping him hobble down the road. "I am practised in herblore, but you'll need a proper physician."

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The woman in the hood seemed to be calm and collected, Lancelot was willing to admit. But it wasn’t her life that was on the line was it. Despite her affluent appearance, perhaps she had some experience in these matters he thought. Whatever she was going to do, though, she was going to have to be damn quick about, he thought to himself. Surprisingly, he saw that she had sat down right next to him on the ground to get a better look. She obviously was not one who was either afraid of him or afraid to get her hands dirty.

He saw bend in towards him, trying to get a better look at his shoulder wound. Despite her calm demeanor so far he saw the look on her face as she inspected the shoulder wound, gauging from that look that it was a bad wound. “There is at least one wound across my back, milady,” he rasped as he tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to nod in her general direction. Although he was not really a knight, and badly injured, he felt it important to act in a knightly way.

Lancelot was just able to see well enough to notice that she was looking around, this way and that. He interpreted that as her trying to make sure whether his attacker was still around. “Milady,” he rasped again. “I was attacked by at least two winged creatures from the forest that dove toward some children. They were at my front and rear. As far as I know they have gone. I do not know if their talons were poisonous, or if they were enchanted, although I suspect it.” He wondered if and how she planned to treat his wounds.

He saw her remove the hood and saw how toung and pleasing to look at she was and almost managed a smile. He nodded his head about his need for treatment. He shook his head at the mention of Camelot. “I was stripped of my Knighthood there by Uther. I may not be a very welcome patient. I would not want to risk having you be guilty by association. It is possible that Gaius might come see me, if a message is sent.” The torrent of words, however, weakened him, and at the end he grimaced in pain. “If you are unaware of who I am, I am Lancelot Du Lac, once a Knight of Camelot for the shortest of times ……… mmmmmmmmm”

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin considered her position and looked down at the man. He had a familiar face but as with many people at court she could not place him. It was probably nothing anyway. The cut on his back looked sore and she was probably right with her earlier diagnosis that he would need to be watched lest it become septic. She watched him thoughtfully, and gave a small smile, her life never seemed to be what she made of it when she set out in the morning. Camelot had a way of throwing surprises and mysteries in your path. In a somewhat peaceful land Caitrin was surprised the amount of attacks the city of Camelot, and the surrounding villages suffered; mainly at the hand of witchcraft. Caitrin was not a seasoned witch in the traditional sense; she knew a few spells and how to manipulate the herbs one found in the woods. Apart from these, Caitrin viewed herself no different from any other noblewoman, well, apart from the fact her temper and teasing nature preceded her at court.

Now wasn’t the time however to wonder at her faults and good areas. There was still a man in front of her who needed treatment. If his clothes hadn’t given him away as a knight, his words certainly did. Even in his condition he was still acting courteous. “I’ve seen that wound, it will need treating and watching lest it go septic my Lord.” She replied, drawing back from him with a small smile. She watched him as he told her his story. He was a knight right down to the heroic duties. She rolled her eyes, she perhaps had another chivalrous Arthur on her hands. She knew all his knights were trained to put their lives on the line for any other person, so she deducted that he must have trained in Camelot at some point. Merican soliders, like the ones her father had trained, would never have put their neck on the line for anyone unless they were sure it would give them a good turn in return. "You are indeed brave my Lord." She said dutifully, wondering what to do next.

If she could not take him to Camelot then where could she take him? With some patients you could not leave them from the place the incident had taken place in. This was not one of those wounds however, he would be all the more better with a warm bed and with his wound freshly dressed. She decided quickly that she would have to take the man to her home, her Uncle would not be pleased, but she could not nurse him here.

He told her his name, and then she remembered him. She had been in the crowd at his knighting ceremony. As she remembered, Caitrin had been chasing off her most recent suitor at the time. "I remember you." She said softly, "I was at your knighting ceremony." He probably hadn't even noticed her, why would he? She was one face among a large crowd on one of the most exciting days of the mans life, "You won't know me, my name is Lady Caitrin de Archer, I am the ward of Rouland de Archer who lives not far from here." She bit her lip through nervousness and looked him over, "I will have to take you there to see to your wounds." She then looked up at the horse, "Can you ride?"

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She appeared to be done looking at his various wounds. She was close enough, now, with her hood down, even with his hazy vision, to get a good look at her. Her hair seemed to be her most distinctive feature, but overall, she was pleasing to look on, he thought. However, he also thought she had a strange, questioning look on her face, as if she thought she recognized him, and was trying to figure out who she thought he looked like. But how would such a lady as this ever have had the opportunity to know Lancelot, especially given the kind of nomadic soldier he had been? He wondered what they were to do now. Her first choice, obviously, was to take him within the confines of Camelot, which was basically the last place he was interested in going. He wondered if she questioned her own abilities, and wanted the assistance of others, or were his wounds so serious that she thought she had to take him elsewhere. “Why Camelot, milady?”

She did not seem to be the type that would waste too much time or energy. She appeared to be someone who would get right down to business. He didn’t have to wait too long for her to offer her take on his situation. “I’ve seen that wound, it will need treating and watching lest it go septic my Lord.” Her view seemed to be reasonable and based in common sense, Lancelot thought. In fact, he had seen similar types of wounds on the battlefield. Generally, however, they were from the thrusts of swords, not the slashes of the talons of flying creatures. He had thought that it was perhaps time to tell more of his story, which he had. He saw her roll her eyes, though, and he wondered if he had made a mistake in telling her anything more than what had to do with his wounds. After all, why would his past interest anyone, he thought to himself. However, she did remark on his bravery, so he was a bit undecided about what she really thought about him, and whether it mattered.

Lancelot knew that he had made it quite clear that he preferred not to go to Camelot. Would she try to take him there anywhere, or would she try to get someone from there to come and see him and treat him here? Or would she try to get him somewhere close by to get him out of open? His mind was not too clear, but if her analysis was true, and the talons weren’t poisonous, then these wounds might be something he could recover from, he thought hopefully.

At the end of telling her his story, and indicating that he had been a Knight, he had indicated his name. He saw immediately a look of recognition on her face, which surprised him. He had not thought that he had been around in Camelot for anybody to remember him. “And what do you remember of me? You were there? Well, the Knighting ceremony, as well as the celebrations after, was pretty much a blur anyway. I remember the King, of course, and Arthur, Merlin, Gwen, and Morgana, but few others.” She seemed to hesitate slightly, as she identified herself. “It is my honor, Lady Caitrin, t o have met and been cared for by you. If you think that is the best alternative to Camelot, then so be it. Can I ride? Well …. There is only one way to find out isn’t there? Sher-Fore will lay down for me, and then you will have to help me up and guide me onto his back. Can I count on your assistance, milady?”

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin wiped her palms on her dress, wondering if she did have the skills to nurse this man back to health. The wound was not deep, and he was still able to speak to her with his wits intact so she doubted if it was a magical wound then it was that serious either. Taking him to Camelot was obviously out of the question and Caitrin bit her lip nervously. She would have to try her best and send for the physician to come to her Uncle's home. She prayed he was not in when they arrived back, he had little sympathy with those who were not friends with Camelot; especially those with magic. She couldn't remember why the knight had been banished, perhaps it was for possessing magic; in truth she had no idea. She remembered his knighting ceremony, but she had been recalled home soon after to meet with one of her Uncle's old friends. "Camelot might have been safer for you to be treated, that is all." She shrugged. A small ripple of wind tore through the forest so she pulled her cloak around her shoulders, "My Uncle will not be best pleased if I treat you at my home, but there is no other alternative." She was gravely serious. Caitrin could not clean and dress the wound here; there was no way it could stay clean, nor could Lancelot then gain the sleep he would need to fight off any fever.

She looked over the man, trying to remember that day in Camelot. She had been to many ceremonies, and that one was rushed through at any rate. She had only been in Camelot on her Uncle's business but had stayed for the festivities; it made it look as if her family was entwined with the day to day running of Camelot. "I was there at your ceremony, I remember it more now even though it was a while back. The festivities afterwards were... eventful." She gave him a small smile as she remembered the festivities. She had been chasing off her latest suitors with some sucess. However, most had been popping their own eyes out at the revealing dress the Lady Morgana was wearing. Caitrin's dresses, though extravagant were never that revealing.

Ignoring the charms in his words, as was Caitrin's way, she hastened to think what on earth to do next. Caitrin was glad to hear the horse would lie down; she would have to teach her mare to do that. "If I hold the reigns you can hold onto my waist." She said thoughtfully, "It it only a five minute ride away from here to my Uncle's." She would have been shocked if a nobleman had asked her to share her horse, but this was an emergency at any rate; plus she had offered so it didn't count. She crouched down, extending her hand, "Here, let me help you up."

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Lancelot is having to fight to keep his consciousness. He notes the hesitation in …… Lady ….. Lady Caitrin’s face. Will she be able to help him, or will their only choice be Camelot? With each passing moment, not really knowing how bad his wounds were, he felt himself getting weaker and weaker. He saw that she was biting her lip. Why was she doing that? Was she considering doing something radical or dangerous to help him? “What are you thinking on, milady? You seem concerned. I hardly think that Camelot would have been very ‘safe’ for me.” Her suggestion shocked him …. Was there no other place to go? “Are you sure that that is the best alternative. He may not allow you to bring me into your home, or it may get you into trouble with him. After all, if he remembers me or my name, he may recall that it was Uther himself who stripped my Knighthood. He may not want to risk Uther finding out that he or one of his household took me in, and then show his displeasure. Are you sure you want to take that risk. Now …. I’m not saying that Uther is a bad king. In many ways he has been a good king … Camelot has prospered. However, he is not a man who is of a tolerant and forgiving nature either.” He could see by the look on her face that she was being very serious. He just wanted to make sure that she understood the risks.

Lancelot wondered how carefully that she was considering the ramifications of bringing him into her home. The look that he saw now on her face was a different one, as if she was thinking of events from long ago and/or far away. Suddenly she seemed to give him a very analytical look, but it was not as before, when she was looking him over for wounds. Her next words confirmed it. “Yes …. That was what you just said. However, even though I should remember someone with your appearance, there are very few people I remember, even from the celebrations. I suppose the word ‘eventful’ is one that could be used. Arthur talked to me for some time, and then when he had moved on, the Lady Morgana came over and asked me some questions. I was quite nervous having the King’s ward ask me questions.”

She was quite beautiful and I was just the newest Knight of Camelot. One of the things that Lancelot had learned over the years was that he should be confident in himself, but not so much as to be over-confident. That would more often than not be looked as being disrespectful to his fellows, so he tried not to boast. Those who tried to stand out from their fellows, whether they be knights or just ordinary soldiers often set themselves up for a fall. It seemed to him that she paid little heed to the words that he had used …. perhaps he had been too forward. In any case, she moved quickly on the practical side to try and figure out how to get them on their way. “Yes …. that makes sense …. and more importantly sounds like it could work. Lets get to it. I’m not sure I have a surplus of time to waste. Sher-Fore …. here …. down.” His voice had changed, so that it was one of authority, and the horse quickly obeyed. “Before we start could you go over by the roadside over there? I believe that is where I left my two long-swords.” When she came back he took her hand and he climbed on the back of his Arabian stallion. “Up,” he commanded, and slowly the horse rose from the ground. “Thank you, milady, for your assistance. You said that your home is close-by?”

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin chewed over her lip. There was no doubt that taking Lancelot back to her home did not worry her slightly. However, her Uncle would not remember who he was because he hadn’t been in Camelot that day. The most he had heard of the event had been from Caitrin’s lips, and that had mainly been about the length of the Lady Morgana’s dress. It had churned Caitrin’s stomach as all the eyes in the room had been on Morgana, as usual. Although Caitrin did not want to be the centre of attention all the time, stealing the lime light once in a while would be nice. “He will not remember you.” She confirmed, “And it will be on my head.” Now she had decided that there was no turning back. She could sense that Lancelot was probably becoming weaker as the conversation grew on so she hastened the conversation along a little; there would be ample chance to speak once he was resting.

“The Lady Morgana has that effect on people.” Caitrin smiled at Lancelot, like many men he had probably fallen for the woman’s charms, “But I did not stay long that evening, my Uncle had need of me my Lord.” She had rode back the same night of the festivities, slightly merry but able to ride the short distance home.

Caitrin helped Lancelot to his feet and watched the horse listen to his commands. It took Caitrin a few moments to realise what Lancelot was talking about with the swords but then she spotted them, discarded, across the road. She picked them up and brought them back to him and he put them at his sides; they weren’t causing him any discomfort that she could see. She helped him over to his horse, setting him down before she followed his lead, taking the reigns and sitting in front of Lancelot. It was altogether a rather awkward way of sitting as it meant that Lancelot would either have to hold onto her waist or reach past her and hold onto the reigns; either way it meant he wouldn’t fall off and break his neck so it was a worthy alternative in her eyes. She held on tightly to the reigns as the horse rode up and nudged it into a gentle trot. They wouldn’t be able to go that fast or else Lancelot would be in more pain than it was worth. “It is only a few minutes ride away my Lord.” She confirmed as the horse re-joined the path and began to quickly walk along it. “Are you comfortable there?” Caitrin asked, more out of politeness than anything else, if he wasn’t comfortable then there was not much to be done about it. Her basket of herbs was resting in the crook of her arms as she grasped the reigns, but it was held stable and the herbs would probably survive the journey. “You will feel better once you have rested my Lord.” Caitrin confirmed confidently, then, after a few minutes had passed she happily looked back at Lancelot, “Look, my Uncle’s house is just over there, past the row of trees and the fields.”

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It seemed to Lancelot that she had definitely given up on the idea of taking him to Camelot for treatment. If he was still alive, he figured that she had Gaius in mind to treat him. He would have been fine with Lancelot …. he trusted him. After all, Gaius had treated him after his first encounter with the Gryffon, when he had done what he could to save Merlin. He wondered now why Merlin had just not tried to use magic on the creature, but of course, magic may not work on a magical creature like that, he considered. He did notice, though, when he glanced at his present savior that she was still gnawing over her lower lip. He inferred from that that even though they had decided against Camelot that she wasn’t comfortable with her choice about taking her home. “Are you sure he won’t remember me? Was he not at the Knighting?”

He shook his head in the negative at her next words, “And I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you taking such risks. It would not seem to be the Knightly thing to do.” The longer they talked, though, the dizzier he seemed to be. He closed his eyes so that things would stop spinning ….he hoped. He opened his eyes slowly after a few seconds, and happily, things had gotten more stable.

They had then talked again about his Knighting celebration, and got into a discussion about Lady Morgana. Lancelot wondered about the effect that Caitrin was referring to. Was it because she was a highly-ranked person at court, or was it because of her beauty, or was it a combination of the two? From a distance, to Lancelot, it had been her high rank, but the closer she got the more her appearance made him nervous. He had been so afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. He did get the feeling, though, from the tone of her voice, that there was something about Morgana that she didn’t like or approve of. He wondered if she was jealous in some way, or if that was just the way it was between girls or women. “I see, well if he had need of you I could see why you left,” referring to her Uncle. “But there is no reason to refer to me as a Lord. I am far too ordinary these days.”

Thankfully he saw her hunt his swords down and re-sheathe them in their proper place. It gave him some comfort that his weapons were now back with him. Sher-Fore came over and lay down as commanded, and she assisted him on. It was not an easy thing for him to his balance as he got on and the horse slowly got up after she got on in front of him. He thought it would be more proper for him to take the reins. However, he knew that she wasn’t dizzy like he was, and he could maintain his balance and position on his horse better if he hung on to Caitrin. He hoped that she didn’t mind, but he didn’t see that he had any other real choice. “That is one good thing I suppose …. That it is only a short way ahead,” he said. “I do not think it has much to do with comfort, what we are doing milady, but with necessity.” He heard her say that he would be feeling better soon, and replied in a whisper, “That is well, since I doubt I could be feeling worse.” He heard her say that their destination was just over the next tree-covered hill, but he merely nodded his head, since it was pounding too much for him to giver her an intelligent reply. He just hope he would remain conscious until he could be helped off his horse. He wondered if she noticed the weakening grip he had on her waist …..

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin found herself laughing as Lancelot asked if her Uncle would remember him from his knighting ceremony. She shook her head to give him a quick answer before she composed herself. The thought of her Uncle emerging from his home for anyone was quite laughable. He only appeared when the King summoned him, or if Caitrin nagged him enough. “He rarely comes to Camelot, I usually go on my own.” She said carefully, “He is not one for society.” It was true enough, the only society Rouland accepted was that of his own family, or nobles who he had alliances with. In truth, Caitrin had only seen him at a few functions, and she had been in Camelot for nearly three years now; it seemed like an age ago when she was dancing in the Mercian courts.

Caitrin didn’t need telling by Lancelot to look out for herself and to be careful about the risks she was taking. She took a risk merely by living in Camelot with her magically abilities. She took risks by helping to heal those on her Uncle’s lands with Helgund’s remedies. Many of them she was sure used elements of magic within them but she was never quite sure. “I am well aware of the risks I’m taking,” She smiled at him, “I take the risks upon my own head.”

She was taken aback when Lancelot told her not to refer to him as a Lord. She was used to calling most noblemen lords, but perhaps Lancelot was not, but then again, why would he have been a knight of Camelot if he wasn’t a noble; weren’t they all supposed to be noblemen? Deciding that thinking about that situation would cause her a headache, Caitrin merely nodded politely and turned to him, “Should I just call you Lancelot then?”
Caitrin was careful to manoeuvre the horse gently so that Lancelot was in as little pain as was humanely possible. The horse handled differently to her own mare who was soft and responded to Caitrin’s touch. This was a male horse, designed for a knight and was therefore harder to keep at a slow pace. She kept a firm grip on the reigns as the horse nudged forwards. She felt Lancelot hold onto her waist, but his grip got less and less as the ride continued. Sensing the growing urgency to get to their destination quicker she nudged the horse on a faster trot, holding Lancelot with one of her hands; her other hand holding onto the horses reigns.

They reached her home quickly, but Lancelot’s grip was now so feeble she doubted he could have managed a few more steps. “Can you get your horse to lie down?” She asked him, turning around as the stable boy came to meet them.

“My Lady?” The boy quizzed, looking at the man behind her,
“This knight has been wounded, it was safer to bring him here rather than to Camelot, fetch some of the other servants and help this man to the spare room.” The horse had now laid down and Caitrin got off as her servants steadied Lancelot to take him to the room.

“Is my Uncle here?” Caitrin asked the boy quickly who shook his head,

“Lord Rouland went to view his lands this morning my Lady, with instructions he would return mid afternoon.” Caitrin nodded, that would give her time to treat Lancelot and save him the embarrassment of listening to her and her Uncle squabbling like children.

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As soon as the question about her uncle remembering him had been asked, she started smiling and laughing. Lancelot was puzzled. He didn’t mean it as a joke. Why did she find it to be so humorous? Obviously she sensed his puzzlement; as she went on to explain that he rarely went into Camelot. “A wise man then. It sounds as if we would find much to agree on,” he said and grimaced at the same time. When he had recovered from the brief surge of pain he continued. “I was raised in a small village, and then when I went out on my own, was on the roads traveling. I tried to stay away from the big towns as much as I could. I generally found such places to areas where trouble was just waiting to happen.” Lancelot wondered if he would ever really want to settle down and stop being a nomad.

Lancelot sensed that Caitrin was a fairly independent sort and not used to be told what to do, or even asked. It seemed to him that she tensed up a bit …. perhaps became a bit defensive …. when he indicated that he wasn’t comfortable with her taking risks for him. He didn’t want her to inadvertently to get in trouble for no good reason. After all, he should be responsible for himself, shouldn’t he? He wondered, though, whether she was over-reacting a bit. There couldn’t be anything else she was hiding, could there? No, he told himself, that didn’t make sense.

“That is well then. I just wanted to be sure that you knew what you were doing, and potentially what the risks were.” Finally, he gasped and whispered, “well …. I wouldn’t want anything nasty to happen to that pretty little head of yours.” When he told her not to address him as Lord he noticed a look of confusion and some bewilderment on her face. “There is no reason to think on the matter hard, so that you may figure it out. All that you need to remember is that one of the quickest ways to be un-knighted is to find that the Knight is not noble. And yes, Lancelot is just fine …. feel free to call me that.”

It was not a long trip they were making, at least that was what Lancelot had been told. With each step that his horse took it seemed to magnify the pain, both in his shoulder and in his back. Despite this, though, he could sense the skill that she was propelling Sher-Fore forward, with some speed he noted. He could see that they were traveling a bit faster, and he did what he could to hold on, but it seemed to be a loosing struggle. He felt her hand reach out to him to steady him, and he responded with a quiet, “Thank You,” and finally they reached the house that he figured must be their destination.

As the horse had stopped Lancelot figured they had reached the end-point of their travel, and this was confirmed by Caitrin. She requested him to direct his horse, and so he did, directing it ……. [color=blue”Sher-Fore ….. down ….. now,”[/color][/i][/b] and the horse quickly descended as a stable boy had come out to assist. She quickly sent him out to seek more servants to help, after briefly describing his ailment, and the boy ran off. Within moments there were servants that helped both of them of the horse’s back. “Make sure they tend to Sher-Fore properly,” he softly spoke. Caitrin inquired after her uncle, and Lancelot thought it was favorable that he wasn’t there, but he would return later. It would be more difficult for the uncle to remove him after he had been moved in. “Don’t you think I should be taken somewhere to rest for a bit, milady?,” he said a bit cheekily.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin was always comfortable in herself whilst present in male company. She always knew how to conduct herself correctly and was never fazed by male company, however, Lancelot was proving a problem. She could not act as a lady would to a lord because he was not a Lord, but neither could she be too curt or stubborn with him as she would have to treat him later. As he commented about her pretty little head she gave a small smile to him, turning to him and commenting,

“I should not have you worry about my pretty little head Lancelot, I can look after it myself.” One of the reasons Caitrin was sure she would never be settled in wedlock was because she was incredibly independent and stubborn. She knew she would not be able to live under a husbands law because she made her own law and lived by that.

Caitrin’s servants bustled round them. She surrounded herself with strong serving women because she wouldn’t be able to live with ladies who were weak and feeble minded. One of her maidservants hastened to make a bed ready for Lancelot. She commanded two of her male servants to carry Lancelot inside and help him into the bed; after all it would be unseemly for the womenfolk to help him. “Take him to the chamber, I shall try to heal his wounds there.” She said confidently and a chorus of ‘yes miladies’ came pouring back to her.

Caitrin gave the small woven basket to one of her maids as she answered Lancelot, “My servants will take you to one of our spare rooms; I will treat you there.” She flashed him a smile and set to her own work. Then she remembered his first question and called after him, “Your horse will be well tended.” Taking the reigns herself, she led the horse to the stables which confirmed her servants words that her uncle had indeed left for the morning. After handing the horse over to the stable boy she rushed inside to her own stores, gaining all the essentials she needed. They had fresh water, and herbs to rub on the wounds, that would do for now. Lancelot had feared that the wound would be infected magically, and for that Caitrin could do very little, but she would try.

Taking her equipment she entered Lancelot’s chambers where her servants had helped him into the bed, “I have here herbs to treat your wounds.” She said softly, standing opposite him, “You will need to take your shirt off.” Her mouth formed hard around the words, she wasn’t embarrassed because it wasn’t in her nature, she just hoped Lancelot, for his part, would be obliging.

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As they moved toward wherever they were heading, Lancelot’s mind began working over several things. Of course he had been injured in battle before, but he had never felt that he was this close to death before. He had no idea how bad his condition was, but he knew it was not good. It seemed more likely, though, with this woman’s care he was much more likely to survive, he thought. He did wonder, outside of her, how welcome he would be where she was taking him.

He wondered if she would have been willing to help anybody in this way. Obviously, though, anybody else she would have been able to transport them quickly to Camelot, and there would probably have been few questions. He spent several moments thinking about her, wondering exactly what she thought of him. He thought that if she did not have a positive view of him, she probably would not be taking the time and effort she had so far.

In his mind, though, it seemed as though she was a bit stiff in their conversation so far. At the beginning she had wanted to call him Lord, when she recognized him from the Knighting ceremony. She seemed to be taken aback when he told her not to. Apparently, since he had been a Knight of Camelot she assumed that he had been a noble and would want to be addressed as such. He thought she seemed pretty independent and confident in herself. That seemed to be especially the case in her comment back to him. He hoped she had not been insulted by his remark.

Her words confirmed her as an independent-type. She obviously didn’t want any protection from him, as if he in his present state could provide any. He had wondered if she was married, but given her remarks so far, figured it would not be a welcomed subject. In short order they had reached the front of the residence, and though Lancelot was somewhat disoriented he could clearly hear Caitrin’s voice giving out instructions, and he could sense the movement of people around him. Almost at the same tine she both told him where he was being taken, and reassured him about his horse. Just as he was taken inside he thought he saw her take Sher-Fore’s reins herself, he was satisfied that the horse would be well taken care of. He let his body relax as he was being carried in, hoping that his body would soon find a comfortable bed.

Lancelot was unsure how long he had been lying on the soft bed when she spoke to him next. “Herbs?,” he said. “Yes …. yes …. that makes sense. I have often heard that herbs have healing properties. What? My shirt? Well …. yes …. I can see why it might be necessary. Do you really need to?” He had never allowed himself to be undressed, even partially, in the presence of a female, since he was a boy, and that had been his mother. He honestly couldn’t come up with a good practical objection, but almost any movement caused him pain, especially with his shoulder wound. “If it must be removed, it must. However, I must ask if you would unbutton it and remove most of it yourself, that is, if you want to keep my pain to a minimum, and I would rather do that if possible,” he said, giving her a shaky smile.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin's servants had done a fine job at preparing the room for Lancelot at such quick notice. None of them asked questions either which was always useful. They'd learnt over the years that knowledge just got them into trouble with Lord Rouland, so many of them now merely tried to plead ignorance.

She hitched up her skirts as she made her way up to Lancelot's room. Past healing his wound she had no idea what she was going to do with the man. Of course her Uncle would have to live with the fact they had a guest under their roof for the foreseeable future because she couldn't move him now, and Rouland would hardly want any trouble on his hands. As Caitrin entered Lancelot's room her servents bobbed their heads to her and left the room promptly, leaving the pair quite alone.

Caitrin wasn't sure if Lancelot was being serious about her helping him take his shirt off. Her cheeks because a soft hue of pink but she nodded all the same to show she would help him. She had seen enough men without their tops on to know what to expect, she'd just never undressed a man before, and hadn't expected to until she was married. She sat down beside Lancelot, undoing the lace at the front of his shirt before helping him to move the shirt past his body and over his arms. All the while, Caitrin was praying her Uncle didn't come into the room, he had a habit of turning up when she least wanted him to.

Caitrin placed Lancelot's shirt next to her before looking over the man. She remained cool and collected, despite their close proximity. It would be a lie to say Lancelot was unattractive at any rate, but those thoughts were not for now, there were wounds to be tended to.

Caitrin took one of her cloths which had been dabbed in water and settled herself behind Lancelot, "This is going to sting," She said quietly before starting to clean out the wound. She could feel him tensing up towards her touch but continued all the same because she knew it needed to be done. Caitrin then lent down and began to fiddle with the herbs which had been collected by her and decided which ones to use in the wound.

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Lancelot did not know exactly how much time had passed since he had been brought into the house, as he opened his eyes and looked around the room he was in. At least the bed was soft and comfortable, he thought to himself. He just barely remembered the two men who had quite easily picked him up, even with all his chain mail, and carried him in here.

As he remembered there had been 4 or 5 women bustling about, preparing the bed and other things in the room while he was being held like a sack of potatoes until the room was ready enough for him to be deposited. Yes … yes …. it was becoming a bit more clear now. Them, as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone, and it was just Caitrin and he in the room. She must be a person of some authority, his cloudy mind reckoned, for servants to respond so quickly.

One thing was for sure, once she had entered, and the maidservants had cleared out she was right down to business, which Lancelot thought was probably a good thing. The more quickly his injuries were tended to the better would be his chances. However, still, he was surprised about her initial request, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. If his wounds were going to heal, she would have to have direct access to them. However, his wounds just hurt too much for him to sit up and get all of the layers off by himself. He, honestly, would need her assistance. He would prefer that he didn’t, because that presented the notion that he was weak, or unable to do things for himself, which he didn’t find very knightly

Lancelot did not know if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but when he asked her to help him, he could have sworn he saw her blush. What was she blushing for …. He was the one taking off his shirt. After his outer uniform and mail had been removed, she had gotten down to his shirt, untying the lace ties at the front, and helping pull the shirt off, one arm at a time, hoping not to pull too many scabs apart. Finally, after what had seemed like hours the shirt was off. He wondered if she was going to make some smart remark about his appearance, or if she was just going to ignore things.

It seemed, to him, that she was going to try to ignore him as much as could. But finally, after removing the shirt to another place, she looked over his body and its damage. She started into the wound cleaning bit straightaway, warning him that it would not feel great, and it didn’t. He thought that he managed to wince only slightly. Once the cleaning process had progressed and finished, which he thought never would, she shifted her attention to some items she had brought. “What are those?,” he asked.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Caitrin didn’t mean to be quiet around Lancelot, but she was unused to the close proximity with a man on his own. She knew there was nothing sexual or intimate about their meeting, but it was still something she had to overcome herself. She smiled back at Lancelot and supressed her blush as the shirt was removed. A quick glance over him and she was satisfied, at least for now, “A good thing the attack did not leave more of your body wounded,” She grinned, continuing to spin her words, “It would have undone all the training that a chest like that obviously took.” She had probably gone too far and embarrassed him, or she had broken the ice that him sat opposite her half naked had created. She gave him a small smile before continuing her work and then moved so she was sat to the side of him, giving her full focus of his wound. She already had her ingredients ready but looked as if she was mashing them together, patients often liked it if they thought the medicine was specially prepared for them.

She began to dab the mixture on a cloth as Lancelot spoke. Caitrin looked up and then back down at her mixture, “Its ivy leaves and vinegar, its one of the strongest healing plants I have in my possession.” Although it did not seem like an incredibly complex mixture, Caitirn had always used it, it was one of Helgunds favourites because as long as you carried a vial of vinegar with you, ivy was never far from hand and therefore you could have relief from wounds wherever you were. As Caitrin waited for the cloth to soak up all her mixture, she took a second cloth which had been bathed in water and began to clean out the wound; there was no point in healing a wound if the thing causing the ailment was still concealed within it was there?

Now the mixture had been absorbed by her cloth she placed her hand gently on Lancelot’s shoulder to steady him, “This will sting.” She promised him and kept her hand firm at his shoulder, even if he said he wouldn’t wince, he probably would; everyone did and Lancelot’s wound was quite deep. She dabbed the cloth against his wound, gentle at first and became more forceful, entering the wound fully with her cloth and holding it there for a few moments before removing it, relieving Lancelot from the pain she was sure he would be suffering. She caught his eye playfully as she then reached for the bandages in her basket, “Now, that wasn’t that bad was it?” She asked, giving him a small wink, “Do not reach for your shirt,” She warned him quickly, “I have not finished with you yet.” Now he could take that comment in whichever way he so chose, but Caitrin wasn’t finished yet, she still had to dress the wound and ensure it stayed clean, and that Lancelot recovered back to his full health.

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Now that it was just the two of them, at least as far as he could tell, Lancelot wondered if she was going to talk to him some more. Most females that he had run across in his travels had been barmaids in local taverns. They had been fairly talkative. He had always figured that was part of their function, to make conversation with men in various states of drunkenness, However, even the very few noble women he had interacted with, such as Lady Morgana were talkative in their own right. This one, though, just stuck to the business at hand. E wondered, if she had any interest in him as a person. He figured that she must, or she would not have taken these chances, or be tending to him now. She was quite difficult to figure out, he thought, as she removed his shirt, and took a quick glance. He saw, at his chest. She spent more time analyzing his shoulder wound. He thought, once again, that he saw the slightest sign of some color as she moved from his chest to wounded shoulder. He noticed she did not keep eye contact.

Finally, she spoke, but of course it seemed to be only in reference to the healing business at hand. “I think that it was more than sufficient as it was,” he said, smiling weakly at her joke at his expense, although he could appreciate it. She smiled at the end of her little comeback, but he was at a loss at what she really meant, so he came back with a question of his own, not knowing how she would respond to it. “Obviously took? I’m not sure what you could possibly mean,” he deadpanned, wondering whether this girl could be embarrassed as easily as this former Knight of Camelot could be, and whether he would be able to provoke another response. He watched her carefully mash the ingredients together, just as he had watched Gaius, the Camelot Court Physician, do some time ago in the past. Well, he thought, she wasn’t afraid to come right back and answer his question. The next question, of course, was whether she was giving him the true information. He shook that off, within a moment, telling himself he had no reason to doubt her.

“Is that so? … then I should consider myself lucky. The healing profession, I have found is a curious one. The Court Physician, in Camelot, seemed to rely on science, while I know others think that the use of certain potions and herbs is closer to magic. What do you think?” He noticed that she was using two different cloths on the wound, one that was wet and one that was not. He waited for her to explain her methods. He had no desire to interrogate her. But he could see that her mind was at work. Despite his best efforts not to flinch from the pain caused by her treatments, he could not help himself. He was afraid that it made him appear to be weak, and that was not a perception that he cared to display. “No, of course not … not as much pain as I thought there would be,” he said quite truthfully. Within a moment, though, she seemed to change the subject, or had she. Was she still talking about treating him, or was she referring to something else. He wondered if he had turned red at all. “My shirt? Yes …. well ….I wasn’t sure if you were finished yet. What else were you planning on?,” he asked in an open-ended way, so she could take it any way she cared to.

[Caitrin de Archer]

Needless to say, Lancelot certainly interested Caitrin. However, she supposed the time for getting to know each other would be once he was recovered. She didn’t know how badly the wound had affected him or how it was affecting his responses. It seemed that he was becoming better and more able to construct proper sentences as their experience grew on. In her view, that could only be good because it showed that Lancelot was indeed recovering. He was handsome, there was no denying it. But their close proximity was unnerving in a way, because even if there was nothing in it, she had never been this intimately close to a man.

She laughed at his response while she continued to prepare her ingredients. That was typical of a man, to deny knowledge of what she meant and then to win another compliment. She smiled back at him and shrugged softly, “Well, although men do not like to admit it, they also enjoy looking good in order to attract women. That is what I mean. Wouldn’t you agree?” Caitrin would never be seen dead without her hair being brushed and without wearing one of the dresses her Uncle had bought her. She never liked to think of herself as vain, but she knew there were parts of her which did focus on her appearance an awful lot.

As he mentioned that herbs were closer to magic she bit her lip. She had never really conversed with the court physician about her methods for that very reason. She knew Gauis was a man of science and believed in reason. Caitrin however had learned her skills from a sorcerer. For all she knew, everything Helgund had taught her was entwined with magic. She could even be using it right now without even realising. She realised she had been quiet for too long, the topic of magic was always entwined with a raw anger for Uther at the fact she could not practice her gifts. She found her reply was more nervous than she had intended it, “I assure you my Lord, there is no magic here.” It was a quick and stubborn answer and probably made her seem guilty rather than innocent. “My remedies are made by using the earths resources, but the only difference with the court physicians is that my knowledge has been passed down to me.” She gave him a quick smile as she cleaned out his wound. Caitrin did think she was special in a way for her gifts. After all, none of her family knew sorcery or herblore. She noticed Lancelot watching her and explained her methods quickly, “I’m cleaning out the wound before I apply anything, or else I will just be applying over any possible infection and that will not help anything.”

Now they got to the shirt. Caitrin was regretting mentioning it in a way but she grinned all the same, the smallest twinge of red in her cheeks. “I need to bandage your shoulder.” She replied in a mercenary way and folded her arms raising her eye brows. She flashed him a quick smile though to let him know she was joking, “Why? What did you think I meant?”

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