'Worrier!' Cai scoffed. 'What can possibly happen to the cup with us guarding it?'

It is one of mortal humans' more cunous traits, that the appearance of a thing is more greatly esteemed than its true character. This is invariable, I find. Perhaps it is that a phasing image evokes the beholder's best sympathies and the desire to be united to the thing admired; then again, fools that they are, perhaps they simply believe that nothing which attracts them could ever bring them harm.

They are woefully wrong in this, of course, as in so much else. Be that as it may, it is precisely this oddity which has served me so well. That Morgaws is beautiful, there is no doubt. I made her, flesh and blood, for just this purpose. Fairest of creatures, she is nevertheless my creature. I taught her everything she would need to know to accomplish my will and desire. I taught her everything, and taught her well. She is that empty vessel which can be made to contain whatever its owner requires.

Born of the union between my dutiful son, Lot, and me, Morgaws is truly bone of my bone and blood of my blood. From the moment she came into the world, I have moulded her to my will. Like all infants and children, she was born with a desire to please those in authority over her, those who controlled her food and shelter, warmth and security. With consummate skill, I manipulated her childish desires to serve my purpose, and she responded magnificently. Morgaws is my finest creation: revenge made flesh.

Together with the rest of the Cymbrogi, we hastened back to the Tor to prepare ourselves for the council to take place at midday. In the warriors' quarters, men rushed to and from the baths while others shaved and dressed in their finest clothes. Still others were busily burnishing their swords, spearheads, and shield bosses.

Thus inspired, I washed and shaved, too, and put on my better clothes, and by the time I had finished scouring my sword, the Cymbrogi were already gathering in the great hall. I found Rhys and Cador, and walked with them to join the rest. The tables and benches had been removed from the hall, and everyone was pressed tight at one end of the huge room.

We three pushed our way to the front of the assembly, as was our due – only to find that the Pendragon was already in attendance. He was sitting in Avallach's thronelike chair, facing the Dragon Flight, who formed a loose circle around him, beginning with Bedwyr at his right hand and continuing around to Llenlleawg at his left. Gwenhwyvar stood behind the throne, her hand resting on Arthur's right shoulder, and Myrddin beside her, tall and as silent as the oaken staff in his hand.

Cador, Rhys, and I quickly took our places at the bottom of the circle opposite the king, who acknowledged our arrival with a slow nod of approval. Seeing that all were assembled, he raised a hand to Myrddin, who then stepped forward to stand before the king. Taking his staff, he raised it high and brought it down sharply with a loud crack, and then twice more.

Planting the staff firmly, he made a circuit around it, passing once, twice, three times, gazing steadily into the face of each man as he passed. This done, he lifted the staff and held it lengthwise across his chest and, in a voice both solemn and profound, began to speak:

'Fortunate among men are you! I say again, fortunate are you, and all men alive to hear what passes in this hall. I tell you the truth: many generations of men before you have lived and died longing for this day.'

Myrddin paused, his golden eyes scanning the company before him. 'Heed the Head of Wisdom: this day, the sun has risen upon the Kingdom of Summer. Henceforth, and until the stars fall from the sky and the sea swallows our island, the kingdom now begun shall prevail. You, who stand before your king, bear witness: the Lord of Summer has taken his place upon the throne, and his reign is commenced.'

At these words, the assembled warriors gave out a tremendous cry – a joyous roar to alert all Ynys Prydain that a new kingdom had come into existence at the High King's command. It was some time before the Emrys could make himself heard. Finally, when the acclaim had abated somewhat, he continued.

'The praise of true men is a boon of great blessing, and the inauguration of the Summer Realm is right worthy of praise,' he said. 'Yet the Kingdom of Summer will not be honoured in word only, but in deed. For this reason, and for this purpose, the Fellowship of the Grail is begun.'

If the first proclamation brought forth cheers, this last brought a hush of anticipation as deafening in its way as the shouts of praise. I held my breath with all the others as the Pendragon rose from his chair and came to stand beside his Wise Emrys. Arthur, wearing his golden tore and serpent armband, Caledvwlch gleaming naked at his side, raised his hands in lordly laud of his decree.

'The Fellowship of the Grail,' Arthur said, his voice echoing the strangely stirring words, 'is the first expression of the Summer Realm. But what is it? Is it a brotherhood dedicated to the service of the Most Holy Grail? Yes, it is that, and it is more: it is an alliance of true and kindred spirits, kinsmen united not by blood, but by devotion to a common duty. That duty is to guard and protect the Grail and all those who will come as wayfarers and pilgrims to the shrine of the Blessed Cup.

'Hear me, Cymbrogi! It is a high and holy duty to which I have called you. For many years the Grail has been guarded in secret, hidden for its protection and watched over by its keeper, Lord Avallach. Soon, however, the Holy Cup will be unveiled for the blessing of Britain and her people. A secret no longer, it will be delivered into our keeping, and we will become its guardians and protectors. The skills we have learned in war, and honed in constant battle, those selfsame skills will be turned to the nurture of peace. Our swords will become the weapons of our Lord Christ on earth. No longer will our adversaries be mere flesh and blood, but the powers and rulers of darkness.

'The Fellowship of the Grail is begun in you, my loyal friends. You will be the first, and those who come after will follow the path you mark out with your steps. Therefore, I charge you, my Cymbrogi: walk worthy of your calling.'

So saying, he lowered his hands, turned, and seated himself once more. The Dragon Flight, inspired by high-sounding words and the prospect of glorious deeds, greeted the Pendragon's declaration with loud acclaim. They cheered and cried pledges of loyalty to the new Fellowship. When, after a time, the cheering began to die away, Cai shouted to be heard.

'Lord and Pendragon,' he said, his brash bawl of a voice loud above the clamour, 'I know full well that I am one with my swordbrothers in welcoming the inauguration of the Summer Realm, and like them I pledge sword and self to the cause you have just proclaimed. Your words are fine and high, as befitting the occasion, and I suppose you are loath to demean the noble Fellowship with tiresome explanation. Yet, though I chance the scorn of those blessed with keener wits than mine' – Cai turned this way and that, as if to acknowledge those he held above him – 'even so, I deem it worth the risk to ask: how are we to accomplish the duty which you have laid upon us, and which we right readily accept?'

This brought good-natured laughter from all those looking on. Cai, ever practical, could not hear a cause proclaimed without knowing how it would be accomplished. Of course, once Cai had cracked the wall, the rest came pushing through the breach, all of them demanding of the king, in one way or another, what they were meant to do, and how they were meant to do it.

I could not help noticing that Myrddin made no move to aid the king, but stood leaning on his staff and observing the clamour with cool indifference, as if to say, Who would stir the hive must brave the buzzing.