took an oath by the blood of my hand (гет)

He had been called The Weeping Monk for so long he had all but forgotten the name he was born with and it sounded stale and wrong on his tongue as he murmured it to the child he held protectively in front of him. Percival, or Squirrel as he preferred, had saved his life. The child had distracted the Holy Trinity knight from the killing blow, allowing the cloaked monk enough time to reach for his sword and his will to survive and slaughter the last of them. He could barely stand by the time the deed was done and it had been Squirrel who had grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and dragged him towards his horse, who as if sensing his distress, had galloped through the smoke to halt nearby. He had dragged himself into the saddle, grunting in pain and then pulled Squirrel up in front of him, cradling him protectively against his wounded and bloodied chest.
OR
The start of Lancelot's redemption.