These assertions brought more questions from Cai, Bedwyr, Cador, and the others who, despite Arthur's hazy recollections, seemed determined to solve the mystery. Those who were there, however, appeared reluctant to speak. Gwenhwyvar made but simple comments of correction, while Llenlleawg and Myrddin spoke not at all. They were, I suspect, unwilling to scrutinize the miracle too closely, and were content to allow the mystery to remain.

In the end, however, the continued assault on the mystery grew too much for Myrddin. Drawing himself up, he strode to the table and struck the board with the flat of his hand. 'Enough!' he shouted, his voice a command even the deaf would obey.

Glaring down along the board at those huddled on the benches, he said, 'Listen to your mindless nattering! You stand in the presence of a holy miracle, and you yammer away like foolish children without a thought in your heads.'

'We only want to understand,' complained Bedwyr sourly.

'Silence!' roared Myrddin. The terrible scowl on his face challenged anyone to speak, and no one deigned to brave the challenge. 'Since you desire to know,' he continued stiffly, 'I will tell what can be told. The bowl, as you have it, is called the Grail – know you that it is none other than the welcome cup used by our Lord Christ himself at his last meal when he sat and supped with his friends. On that same night he was betrayed, and the next day was scourged and crucified.

'One of the Christ's many followers was a wealthy merchant known to us as Joseph of Arimathea, the same who provided the meal that night, and the tomb as well. Joseph kept the cup, which the Lord had blessed, and when the first believers were driven from Jerusalem, he brought the holy vessel to Britain. Joseph and his friends established the first church in the west, and it was here on Ynys Prydain that they raised the first altar to the Risen Christ.

'Alas, that first church passed from this worlds-realm, for the people were not yet ready to hear and receive the True Word.

Joseph and those with him died in their time and were buried beside the lake beneath the Tor, where Avallach and Charis now reside, and where the monks have raised their abbey, but the Grail abides. Through means unknown to any save Avallach, who alone guards it, the Cup of Christ is preserved.

'In truth, it is the holiest object that abides on earth. Its marvels are beyond telling, and I know whereof I speak, for once, when I was stricken and dying, this selfsame Grail preserved and healed me, and behold! now it has healed Arthur.' Raising an admonitory hand, he said, 'But I warn you, do not think to discover the how or why of it: no man can tell you how it effects its healing, nor why some are healed even while others perish. Truly, it is enough to know that it endures as a special sign of God's good pleasure; accept it, revere it, and let it be. Instead of worrying heaven and the angels with your ignorant chatter, you should rather throw yourselves to the ground and repent of your folly.'

So saying, Myrddin turned abruptly and departed. The company sat for some moments in silence, pondering Myrddin's curious warning. Then, slowly, talk resumed, somewhat more respectful this time, but no less excited. After a time, Arthur, visibly moved by what the Emrys had said, spoke his mind. 'Myrddin is right; this is a thing too holy for idle speculation. We would do well to guard our tongues.'

'Better still,' suggested Cai, 'we should pay homage to the cup – for healing our king.'

To Cai's manifest amazement, everyone agreed wholeheartedly. Arthur commended the plan and lauded Cai's suggestion, embellishing it with the small addition of a special contingent of monks to offer prayers and psalms on behalf of the holy object and the realm. Thus would the Pendragon establish his reign, and the Kingdom of Summer commence.

Dazzled by glory, we all retired to our sleep that night in a mood of high expectation. Surely now, after the Saecsen wars and the battles fought to subdue the invading Vandali, we could lay aside our weapons and embrace the practice of peace so long abandoned in our homeland. We dreamed that night of returning to peaceful pursuits, growing contented and prosperous, and enjoying the fruits won by our swords' harsh labours. Having dreamed the glorious dream, we rose the next morning to greet the sun rising on a new and splendid epoch, the beginning of the Summer Kingdom, Taliesin's oft-told vision when peace, love, and honour would govern Britain's island brood.

Arthur regretted that he could not ride south at once. 'Be at ease, Bear,' steady Bedwyr reassured him; 'the council is soon finished – a day or two more, and we are done here.'

As we might have expected, Myrddin thought little of the notion. 'Has it not occurred to any of you,' he inquired tartly, 'that there is good reason why the Grail has remained hidden all these years? I have every confidence Avallach knows best what to do. Hear me, Arthur: do not think to meddle. Leave it alone.'

But Arthur would not listen. Thanking the Emrys for his advice, he proceeded to do the opposite, and the plan quickly grew to include not merely a simple service of homage, but a perpetual choir, too, and a church in which to house them all. 'A seemly structure,' Arthur said, 'where any who are weary and oppressed can come and see the cup blessed of the Saviour King himself.' He was convinced that just beholding the sacred vessel would work wonders for those who made pilgrimage to view it.

This, he said, would be the first of many marvellous undertakings with which he would commence his reign. More and greater ventures would follow as bright dawn follows storm-torn night.

Nevertheless, Bedwyr had summoned the lords and petty kings of the region in the king's name, and much as Arthur desired to hasten south to Ynys Avallach, he must abide until the council finished and the Vandal problem was laid to rest for once and all. The necessity rubbed him raw, but he endured, filling the time with schemes and dreams which he elaborated at great length to any who happened near. Oh, it was a wonderful sight to see, and one which I thought had passed forever: Arthur, in the blazing vigour of untempered youth, inflamed by his vision of a Holy Britain even now entering the harmony and prosperity of the Summer Kingdom.

Myrddin held himself apart, viewing this turn of circumstance with a sour expression. Although he appeared ill-disposed towards Arthur's schemes, he yet seemed loath to quench the fire that kindled them. Like everyone else, I suppose, he was only too happy to have Arthur hale and whole once more, and could not bring himself to steal even the smallest mote of the king's joy, or dampen the Pendragon's ardour – not that anything could.

When I asked him what he thought of Arthur's plans, the Wise Emrys merely shrugged. 'It matters not a whit what I think,' he intoned somberly. 'The High King will have his way in this, come what may.'

I thought this strange, or at least unusual. Myrddin's behaviour was often inexplicable, but rarely proud, and never mean-spirited. No one else seemed to notice Myrddin's gloomy indifference, and this concerned me, too. I began to meditate on what Myrddin had said about the Grail, and weighed his words against Arthur's zeal, but arrived at no firm conclusion.

Still, as I looked around me, I saw that at least one other held some portion of Myrddin's reserve. Gwenhwyvar, who had at first matched Arthur's fervour with her own, now appeared to be waning in her enthusiasm. As the others were all too caught up in the golden glow of important doings, I decided to discover Gwenhwyvar's heart in the matter.

'It is not lack of faith that has brought me to this pass, but lack of strength,' she confided. 'That man wears me out. He has ten new plans before sunrise, and those ten have each spawned ten more before dusk. He hardly sleeps, and all the scheming makes him amorous. I get no rest, Gwalchavad. Truly, it is like sleeping with a whirlwind.' When Gwenhwyvar realized what she had said, the colour rose to her slender throat. 'Do not tell him I said that.'