"Now and again I get strong — I don't know how to explain them — feelings," said Lancelot, his tone measured and even. Lancelot most assuredly did not have any magical skills… he was nothing like Merlin, who possessed the most amazing magic. But occasional hunches and powerful intuition? Sure.
Morning light gave way to afternoon clouds and cool drizzle, but still, the men pressed on with few breaks. Lancelot enjoyed Percival's company. The young man was quiet but friendly. …show more content…
"Anyway, what do you mean 'if' I stick with you?" asked Percival. "My word's good and I want to help."
"I figured." Lancelot glanced over his shoulder and noted the sun's position in the sky. "Well, time to get going..."
Percival held up his hand and cocked his head to the side, a look of concentration on his face. Within moments, Lancelot understood what was going on — hoofbeats approached. The men vaulted over the fallen log and ducked their heads. Meanwhile, the rumbling sound of hoofbeats grew louder and louder. It sounded as if at least thirty men were riding by. Percival peeked over the top of the hiding spot. The man sank down again, his face a frightening shade of white.
"Cenred's men!" said Percival too loudly.
It appeared as if Percival was about to leap to his feet, but Lancelot slapped one hand over Percival's mouth and pinned him down by the shoulder with the other.
"Percival, don't," whispered Lancelot. "Now's not the time. Your time will come."
Cenred's riders passed without issue, but Percival's jaw was set in a stern line and he trembled as the men galloped