Page 97 of The Road to Avalon
“Oh my God.” I dropped to my knees as well, ripping off my helmet. “No no no. Arthur. Arthur!” My voice rose in panicked beseeching of who knew what deity or power. I reached for his left hand.
His fingers squeezed mine.
“Arthur!”
His eyes flickered open, unfocused for a moment and bloodshot. I bent over him, cradling his head, my fingers touching his face. “My darling. My love.” I looked up at the other men, searching in desperation for faces I knew. Llawfrodedd’s appeared.
Bedwyr wrapped a bandage around the wound in Arthur’s arm, over the broken mail and his tunic.
“Cei.” Arthur’s voice came out as a mumble, incoherent and faint.
Cei stumbled forward from amongst the men and fell onto his knees by my side. He’d thrown his helmet off, and his graying red hair stuck wetly to his head.
“Cei.” A faint grin spread over Arthur’s face.
Cei’s bloody hand covered mine and Arthur’s. “We beat the bastard. He’s dead.” His anxious blue eyes met mine. “Gwen killed him.”
Arthur gave a tiny nod. “I saw.” He coughed and winced, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. “The bastard didn’t see that one coming.” A little chuckle escaped his lips.
Bedwyr slipped his fingers under Arthur’s jaw to feel for his pulse. “We need to get you out of here.”
Arthur’s eyes closed for a moment.
I nodded, frantic with fear. “Yes. Get this horse off him. Now.”
For answer, Bedwyr frowned at Taran’s inert body, resting on Arthur’s leg. “We’re going to need some help.”
“Is Medraut really dead?” I asked, fearful that he might be lurking, despite the spear right through him, ready to finish Arthur off, just the way villains in horror movies are never truly dead when you think they are. “Did Ireallykill him?”
Bedwyr nodded and jerked his head. “Over there.”
I looked where he pointed. A spear stood upright like a flagpole, protruding from a corpse’s chest. HadIdone that? Had I finally killed him? Should I have done it long ago and avoided this terrible day? If only I had.
“That was you, was it?” Bedwyr said, wrapping another bandage around Arthur’s free right leg where a gash had sliced through his leather braccae. “I need to stop this bleeding.” He turned to the waiting men. “Get hold of the horse’s legs, and pull when I say.”
Taran must have died almost instantly. Not much blood marred her shining coat. I wouldn’t look at her beautiful, dead face.
The men set their backs to it and heaved on her legs.
Arthur groaned, and I clutched his hand tighter. “It’s going to be all right. We have to move your horse.” I looked up. “You’re hurting him. Be careful. Do you have poppy juice?”
Bedwyr nodded. “I do, but it’ll suppress his breathing too much, and I don’t want to risk that. He’ll have to put up with the pain.”
A huge figure pushed its way between the crowding warriors, helmetless and with his blonde hair dark with blood but recognizable anywhere. Theodoric, seemingly unhurt. Had he seen his dead son lying on the plain? He could share our grief. Everyone’s sons were dead now. The flower of Arthur’s army.
“Here. Let me.” He put his brawny shoulder to Taran’s body and heaved the weight off Arthur as the other men tugged her clear of him by her legs. Bedwyr put his hands under Arthur’s arms and dragged him out from under. Theodoric relaxed his hold and the horse’s body slumped back into place.
Arthur’s eyes rolled up into his head as he went limp in Bedwyr’s arms. A little more blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and my heart did a frightened flip. Internal injuries?
I looked at his leg. It lay at an awkward angle and blood soaked the leg of his braccae below the knee.
“It’s broken,” Bedwyr said without even touching the leg. “Badly.”
Even I could see that. “What can you do?” I asked, grabbing his arm.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Not much when a leg’s broken like that.” He put his hand on the left side of Arthur’s chest, pressing with gentle fingers. “His ribs are broken, too. The horse rolled right over him and crushed him. That blood around his mouth shows me he has blood pressing on his lungs. I’ve seen an injury like this before. It’s not survivable.”
“What? You haven’t even looked. How can you know?”
