Work Text:
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The First Cut is the Deepest
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When the tree Gaius had chosen as his backrest cast shadows across the page rather than just keeping the sun out of his eyes while he read, it signalled the end of his leisure time. With a sigh, he marked the page in the text with the sliver of wood he used as a placeholder and put the book in its embroidered bag before stashing it in his pack. His neck and shoulders were tight from being hunched over as he read and he stretched the ache out while checking the position of the sun. It was earlier than he'd expected and Gaius realised he still had time to gather something to make up for his absence that day, not that Darius would say much about his disappearance beyond asking him if his day had been constructive. Gaius grinned as he shouldered the pack and headed deeper into the forest. Darius was an easy task master and his opinions on what was constructive were as diverse as his experiences in a life that was counted in centuries rather than decades, but he was always appreciative of some of the odder fruits of the forest that weren't so easy to come by; luckily Gaius knew exactly where a particular fungus in which Darius had expressed an interest only days before could be found, even if he would have to climb a tree or two to gather it.
Sound travelled differently away from the forest floor and while perched in the branches of an accommodating tree Gaius realised the forest was not so quiet as it had seemed on the ground. There was the characteristic jingle-clomp-snort of horses and their tack overlain by the babble of voices from one direction; a hunt, he presumed as the forest was home to a diverse range of animals as well as the plants and fungi that were his usual objectives. He paid little heed to the sounds once he had categorised them in his head and concentrated on not breaking the fungus he was gathering into pieces as he carefully stowed it in his pack, there was room enough in the forest for him and the hunt and he felt it was highly unlikely that he would need to encounter them.
The first shouts gained his attention just as he was beginning his descent from the tree. He paused to listen, wondering what had started the commotion when the scream of a horse in pain ripped through the air, closely followed by another and another until they were silenced, presumably by killing the affected horse. It was only then that he realised there had been another voice in that scream, one that could still just about be heard over the general cacophony of shouts; that of a child in pain.
Gaius didn't remember how he got down the tree so fast without doing himself an injury, but he was running in the direction the screams had come from in what seemed like no time at all, ducking branches that plucked at his hair and jumping muddy patches that sucked at his feet, like he had wings. His pack thumped against his back as he ran and he thanked all the gods – plus Blaise, and Darius, for insuring that the habit had become second nature – that he never went anywhere without at least *some* medicines in his pack and the wherewithal to make more from fresh ingredients if required.
He knew he had reached the place when he burst through the trees into the lightness of a clearing to be confronted by what seemed to be a wall of steel but resolved itself into several men with swords. He glanced past them as best he could to take in the scene. There was a dead horse at one edge of the clearing and near to that was a shapeless lump that he thought could be the child he'd heard but he was prevented from moving closer by several feet of steel pointing at his chest.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the owner of the swordpoint that was actually touching his chest.
"My name is Gaius. I'm a…" He had to think for a moment; he couldn't describe himself as a doctor as he didn't class himself as one, he was more than a herbalist or apothecary though his work contained elements of both disciplines and he certainly wasn't going to tell them he was a warlock when his magic was no more than the glue that held everything else together, plus how could he tell them he was still essentially an apprentice? "I'm a physician; I was gathering supplies when I heard the noise. I wondered if I might be of some assistance?"
Swordpoint man stepped back and sheathed his sword. "I believe you just might," he said. "Let him through." The other soldiers melted out of Gaius' way and he stepped into the clearing. He didn't pause to wonder what sort of picture he must present, he probably looked more akin to a madman with his hair in disarray, having been pulled from its binding by his flight through the trees, probably covered in leaves, possibly worse; he had a job to do. The lump resolved itself into a boy with dark hair and pale eyes, face drawn and white with pain and possible shock. There was blood on the ground, but most of it appeared to belong to the dead horse.
"Has he been moved?" Gaius asked a soldier as he approached.
"As little as possible; we moved the horse off him." Gaius shrugged his pack aside, knelt beside the boy and laid a hand on his forehead; the skin was cool but lacked the clammy chill of someone who was bleeding out.
"My name is Gaius, I have come to help as much as I can." The boy nodded in agreement with a gravity belying his years; that as much as the escort of soldiers marked him as noble.
"Do what you must," he said.
Gaius removed the cloak covering the boy; one leg was obviously broken and there was a temporary, though competently applied, field dressing to a laceration on his arm. First things first, he needed to discover if anything besides his leg had been broken.
"Did you hurt your back or your neck when the horse fell?"
"I don't think so, my back doesn't hurt like my leg and I can move everything." The boy demonstrated, though it obviously caused him pain. Gaius placed a hand on the boy's chest to stop him.
"I don't think you need to do that again. Let me give you something for the pain, then I'll take a closer look at you and see about setting that leg before you're moved." He sat back on his heels to find swordpoint man hovering. "You, get a fire started and boil me some water. Then I'll need strips of cloth and wood to use as splints." Gaius nodded at the boy, "He shouldn't be moved until that leg is immobilised and I can't do that with thin air." Gaius rummaged in his pack until he found the bottle he wanted and helped the boy raise his head until he could drink. "Just one small mouthful, lad, this is a potent draught." The boy complied with a brief nod of understanding. Gaius took off his jacket and laid it under the boy's head, then covered him back up with the cloak while he waited for the medicine to work.
"My name is Uther," the boy said as his eyes drifted shut. Gaius heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, as if someone was surprised that Uther had offered his name willingly, but he ignored it. He turned his attention to the dressing on Uther's arm and set his fingers to undoing the knot keeping it in place when he realised he recognised the work; it was an unusual knot, but very effective for keeping a field dressing in place without causing undue pressure to the wound beneath. Gaius had learned it from Darius.
"Who dressed this arm?"
"I did." The soldier who answered was the one who had been close to Uther when Gaius arrived, the sandy hair and blue eyes giving him an air of innocence that Gaius suspected was at odds with his real age.
"It's good work; you did well." Gaius set to cleaning the wound; it had stopped bleeding and would not need stitching, for which he was thankful. He carefully rebound it and checked his patient, Uther seemed to be as relaxed as he was going to get; it was time to see to the leg.
With the assistance of two of the soldiers and Uther's full compliance, setting and splinting Uther's leg was easier than Gaius had first thought it would be; the break had been a relatively simple one and the bone had luckily not pierced the skin. Another dose of painkiller and a freshly prepared infusion of willowbark and valerian to reduce inflammation and keep him relaxed and Uther was as ready to be transported as he ever would be. The soldiers had set up a stretcher of sorts that could be carried between two horses which would reduce the chances of Gaius' hard work being undone by their journey.
Gaius was checking over the set up of the stretcher, ensuring that it was safe and would not put Uther at risk of falling. He realised that Uther was watching him with drug-blown eyes and paused in his fussing.
"Thank you, Gaius," Uther said.
"I am just glad I was close enough to be of assistance."
"So am I. My brother's physician is not as kind or gentle as you are. When I have my own household I will have *you* as my physician."
Gaius said nothing, merely stood back and let Uther and his entourage get underway. He watched them until they were out of sight, at a loss to explain the way his heart had leapt within him at Uther's words; he suspected it would not be the last he saw of the boy.