Morgana turned back to Sir Ector. 'You may leave here now, your duty has been done. The King has now been returned into our hands, and we shall care for him. Take your men, your battles, and your blood and leave this holy place.'
Sir Ector took a deep breath, and after a moment smiled and shook his head slightly as if deciding against a parting remark of his own. He and Morgana had never seen eye to eye, and that was not about to change now. He turned and accepted his horse's reins from one of his men, and taking a firm hold of the saddle's pommel, heaved himself back up whilst shouting,
'Mount!'
The sound echoed around the confined space as Sir Ector, followed by his men, turned his horse around towards the gate and spurred it into motion, out into the cold afternoon air to be mocked once again by the crows.
'Lay him upon the cot… carefully sisters, carefully. He has taken enough knocks and offences to his person. We shall care for him now as befits our King.' Morgana watched as the two nuns began to remove the King's soiled garments, being careful to treat their King with the care and reverence he was due. Sir Ector's men had already been removed the heavy mail vest, but they cut his tunic and surcoat away revealing his linen camisia, the thin undergarment was soaked with dried blood and stuck to his skin. A bowl of water was called for and then placed on the floor beside the cot; a cloth was used to dribble water onto the camisia until it gradually relinquished its hold upon the King's body. The wound itself had stopped bleeding some time past, yet it still appeared red and angry, and when probed it was seen to be leaking a clear, slightly cloudy fluid.
Morgana inspected it, touching and prodding the livid flesh before sniffing at both the wound and then the King's breathe, taking notice of his white complexion and slow breathing as she did. 'We must cleanse the wounded flesh, and if it continues to weep so, then we may be required to cauterise it with a hot iron. For now, use fresh urine to bathe it and then apply a honey salve. We must keep the evil humours at bay.'
'Yes, Abbess.' The nuns continued, gently removing the soiled linen, cleaning the thin, lifeless body with the wet cloth. Morgana noticed Maude standing by the side of the door. The female warrior appeared lost and uncertain of what she was doing there in the cell.
'You do not have to be here, we can care for the King, he is in the hands of God; you have done all you can for him.' For a few moments the girl didn't move, but then she turned towards Morgana and shook her head.
'He was in my care. The battle was finished, he… he did not seem to be so badly hurt.' She shook her head as if to clear it. 'I was assigned to him, and I shall not leave his side. Do what you will to make him well, I will not get in your way, but I am not leaving.'
Morgana frowned. 'As you wish.' She turned back to the nuns. 'I shall prepare a hot infusion; we shall attempt to improve the King's vigour and rekindle the flame of his health. Let us give our King the very best care, sisters. And pray for him as you work, our King now needs our prayers to guide him through this terrible time.' Morgan ignored the King's protector and watched as the nuns worked, and as she did, she smiled, it had taken a little time and no little manipulation, but Uther Pendragon was now back in her care.
The first few weeks of the King's return to Glastening Abbey passed with Uther seemingly unaware of the world about him. His battered and weakened body lay in the damp cell and was cared for by the nuns who cleaned, fed and prayed over him day and night. However, while his body lay still, his mind wasn't bound by the tortures of his flesh. Memories and dreams plagued his spirit, transporting him through a bewildering series of events and improbable dialogues. Some of his past experiences returned to be lived once more, such as his first contact with the sword Excalibur, handed to him wrapped in a
Sir Ector took a deep breath, and after a moment smiled and shook his head slightly as if deciding against a parting remark of his own. He and Morgana had never seen eye to eye, and that was not about to change now. He turned and accepted his horse's reins from one of his men, and taking a firm hold of the saddle's pommel, heaved himself back up whilst shouting,
'Mount!'
The sound echoed around the confined space as Sir Ector, followed by his men, turned his horse around towards the gate and spurred it into motion, out into the cold afternoon air to be mocked once again by the crows.
'Lay him upon the cot… carefully sisters, carefully. He has taken enough knocks and offences to his person. We shall care for him now as befits our King.' Morgana watched as the two nuns began to remove the King's soiled garments, being careful to treat their King with the care and reverence he was due. Sir Ector's men had already been removed the heavy mail vest, but they cut his tunic and surcoat away revealing his linen camisia, the thin undergarment was soaked with dried blood and stuck to his skin. A bowl of water was called for and then placed on the floor beside the cot; a cloth was used to dribble water onto the camisia until it gradually relinquished its hold upon the King's body. The wound itself had stopped bleeding some time past, yet it still appeared red and angry, and when probed it was seen to be leaking a clear, slightly cloudy fluid.
Morgana inspected it, touching and prodding the livid flesh before sniffing at both the wound and then the King's breathe, taking notice of his white complexion and slow breathing as she did. 'We must cleanse the wounded flesh, and if it continues to weep so, then we may be required to cauterise it with a hot iron. For now, use fresh urine to bathe it and then apply a honey salve. We must keep the evil humours at bay.'
'Yes, Abbess.' The nuns continued, gently removing the soiled linen, cleaning the thin, lifeless body with the wet cloth. Morgana noticed Maude standing by the side of the door. The female warrior appeared lost and uncertain of what she was doing there in the cell.
'You do not have to be here, we can care for the King, he is in the hands of God; you have done all you can for him.' For a few moments the girl didn't move, but then she turned towards Morgana and shook her head.
'He was in my care. The battle was finished, he… he did not seem to be so badly hurt.' She shook her head as if to clear it. 'I was assigned to him, and I shall not leave his side. Do what you will to make him well, I will not get in your way, but I am not leaving.'
Morgana frowned. 'As you wish.' She turned back to the nuns. 'I shall prepare a hot infusion; we shall attempt to improve the King's vigour and rekindle the flame of his health. Let us give our King the very best care, sisters. And pray for him as you work, our King now needs our prayers to guide him through this terrible time.' Morgan ignored the King's protector and watched as the nuns worked, and as she did, she smiled, it had taken a little time and no little manipulation, but Uther Pendragon was now back in her care.
The first few weeks of the King's return to Glastening Abbey passed with Uther seemingly unaware of the world about him. His battered and weakened body lay in the damp cell and was cared for by the nuns who cleaned, fed and prayed over him day and night. However, while his body lay still, his mind wasn't bound by the tortures of his flesh. Memories and dreams plagued his spirit, transporting him through a bewildering series of events and improbable dialogues. Some of his past experiences returned to be lived once more, such as his first contact with the sword Excalibur, handed to him wrapped in a
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