The knight shrugged. "I'm not sure - you know this Arthur fellow better than I do. He doesn't wanted you, and nobody else." He stole a glance at the barbaric invaders. "The only way we'll be escaping this deathtrap is the same way we made it in - we'll have to charge through. You'll  ride with me, and for that, you'll need to be strong enough to hold on tight." It was a savage reality - the sheer momentum of the charge and ferocity that occurred as the armoured knight and his mount ploughed through the enemy ranks was something that mounted warriors spent all their lives training for, for which they were armoured and braced. It was rough and brutal, and would almost certainly prove debilitating or even fatal for the wizened old servants in Elizabeth's employ. His gaze fell on each of them, and he winced with regret. "I'm sorry, milady, but the best hope for them is to slip away while we have the horde distracted. You, on the other hand, must come with us".  For a forbidden second, he found himself admiring her lithe, voluptuous young form - like him, he energy of youth still flowed through her. She was fit in her own way - and already, he had tasted her stubborn nature. There was most certainly hope for her.