Chapter 4
Arthur kept mentally tormenting himself for his mistake as he desperately fought against Cenred's men. He should have listened to Leon; after all, Leon had much more military experience than him, and had already been the most trusted knight of the kingdom when Arthur was still a boy. Yet he had respected the King's decision, even when knowing it what wrong. If they both survived that battle, he would make sure to compensate him for his eternal loyalty.
But no: Arthur had not listened to him. He had been arrogant enough to believe he knew better, only because he was the King. He had not made the decision of parting with only twenty men out of arrogance or seeking out for glory, though. He had only had Camelot's best interest at heart, and trying to avoid a war had seemed the best option. Only now he understood he had chosen with his heart, and not his brain. He had not kept his head cold, like his father had advised him a thousand times before. And the price of that mistake was about to be paid by his men.
He knew his men were better prepared for battle than Cenred's were: Camelot had always been intent on carefully training their men so they would be able to protect the kingdom in times of need. But there were like three men of Essetir for every one of Camelot, and the odds were clearly not on their favour.
Arthur was able to get rid of his immediate rival by a deep slash on his neck, so he had the chance of looking around before another one came to his encounter. At least five of his own men were already dead on the ground, and the ones who still had the fortune to stand, were giving the best of themselves to remain alive. All except one: young Gilow, who was covered by spatters of blood –obviously he had been splashed by the numerous fights going around him– and apparently so terrified he could not even move. He had miraculously being ignored long enough to survive until then, but as Arthur looked at him, a soldier from Cenred's army started coming towards him, seizing his sword in the boy's direction.
"Gilow, move!" Arthur shouted, but the young soldier seemed to be petrified, and even though he wanted to do what the King had ordered, his legs didn't obey and remained rooted to the floor.
Arthur could see what was happening and he immediately understood: he had been an inexperienced beginner once too, and there was nothing more terrifying than facing death for the first time, however much trained you had been. His sympathy for the poor boy, plus his sense of duty about taking care of his men, made him run desperately to the boy, ignoring every sword and fight in his way.
When he reached Gilow, the poor boy was about to be stroke down by that one warrior that had noticed his immobility. Arthur threw himself in the way of the falling sword and was able to block it with his own, to which his rival let and outraged cry and attacked again, more forcefully this time, only to be stopped by Arthur's weapon again.
"Gilow, run!" Arthur shouted at his back, as the boy had yet to move, and was relieved to hear slow footsteps that indicated the young knight had finally started walking.
Arthur's opponent, though, took the chance at his distraction and attacked ferociously again. Arthur had been distracted, yes, but he was an excellent warrior and he could still react enough so his head wouldn't be chopped of his body: he jumped to the side just when the sword was about to impact on his neck, but he was not able to completely avoid it and he felt a blinding agony in his shoulder, where the weapon had made a deep slash that was already bleeding profusely.
Arthur tried to make no sound of complaint at the great pain he was feeling, knowing that if Leon or one of the others heard it they would try to come to his rescue, and he wanted them concentrated on their own fights. Odds were bad enough as they were.
Before he had time to give any more thoughts to the battle around him, his rival was already attacking again, and Arthur quickly passed his sword to his left hand, unwounded, and blocked him. He wasn't nearly as strong with his left hand, but the deep cut on his right shoulder left his good arm out of question.
A couple of minutes passed and all Arthur could do was to defend himself, not being given the chance to attack. He fell to his knees by the force of the attacks, but he skilfully put his feet behind the warrior's ankles and made him fall on his back, so he had time to get up. It was the only thing he had the chance to do, as Cenred's knight, completely enraged, threw himself against him once more, even more forcefully than before, taking advantage of Arthur's injury.
Arthur felt to the ground again with an unwilling groan, completely exhausted by the effort and the blood loss, and he knew this time he was not going to stand again. Feeling his moment had arrived, he tried to picture Merlin's smile in his mind, tried to feign he was there with him encouraging and loving him, but he could only imagine his tears when he did not return to him as he had promised.
"I failed you, Merlin" he whispered, not really aware of his surroundings anymore. "I'm sorry" he sobbed, as he saw the blade of his rival's sword coming towards his chest at top speed.
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The morning found Merlin with his eyes still wide open, having not got any shuteye all night. How could he, when Arthur was out there, who knew in which state, facing perils Merlin wouldn't even dare to imagine? It's not like he had expected them to be back yet: even if everything had gone smoothly, they probably wouldn't have been riding in the dark. They would have made camp all through the night and they wouldn't be back until later that day, at the soonest. But that didn't keep Merlin from worrying. From fretting, to be more exact. And he knew he would not get any rest until he had Arthur back in his arms, safe and sound, again.
He had even spent the night in Arthur's chambers, in Arthur's bed, taking comfort in the King's scent remaining in the linens. He was careful that no one knew he was there, as there was absolutely no reason to justify his presence in the King's chamber at his absence. Any other time he wouldn't have dared, and he would have made his way back to Gaius's place, to his own room, the one that had been so little used since he and Arthur had started sharing their lives and their bed. But that night there was no way he could not be there, amongst Arthur's things, where he could almost feel Arthur's presence. It was all the reassurance he could get, and he was surely going to take advantage of it.
As the hours passed, there was nothing he did that would alleviate his fretting even in the slightest. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse at every passing hour and still no sign of Camelot's crest on the horizon. He just moved around like a lost soul until Gaius couldn't stand it any longer and sent him to the market downtown to buy some things he needed for his remedies, hoping to keep him occupied, under the strict promise he would send for him immediately if Arthur came back before he did.
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The news of the return of the King and his patrol reached Merlin's ears when he was still at the outskirts of town with no need of anyone coming to get him, and his legs started running towards the castle before he was even aware of it, his thoughts about what to buy already forgotten. He ran as fast as he could, but even then he couldn't help but to hear the rumours spreading amongst the villagers: that only a few of the men that had left the previous day had returned.
Merlin arrived at the castle's front stairs when Sir Leon was still giving orders to the survivors of such an unfortunate quest to take the injured to Gaius, and to take care of the bodies of the ones that hadn't been so lucky. Merlin's eyes fell immediately to Arthur's usual mount, and he was appalled to see its rider was nowhere to be seen. Merlin approached the horse and his eyes fell immediately to its saddle, mostly covered by blood. He felt like he was suffocating, like there was not enough oxygen to breath, and his knees buckled until he found himself on the floor, unable to say a word or move a muscle. Feeling his heart was about to stop, when the truth was it was beating madly, his eyes got drowned in unshed tears and his throat produced a broken and guttural noise that sounded similar to his lover's name.
