"'Twill be all right, Ambrosius," Didymus soothed, leading his mount in the door. "'Tis the infirmary. 'Tis where one goest when one is ill."
Ambrosius gave a pitiful whimper, and he could tell that his steed wanted nothing more than to lie down again. But Didymus had heard tell of downed steeds never getting up again, and he wouldn't allow that to happen on his watch. Perhaps the doctors here could help.
"You, there!" Didymus called, looking up at the man in the room. "I say, my steed ist ill. Canst thou aid him?"