I did not return to the Tor that night, but remained on the hillside near the shrine, wakeful and curiously agitated; I could not hold a thought in my head for a single moment before it slipped my grasp and flew away. Try as I might, my thoughts scattered far and wide like birds a-frighted from the field. Now and then, one of them would return to roost – I must tell someone! I would think – and then flit!… It would vanish, and another would take its place. I have seen it! I have seen the Grail!

In this way the night passed. At last, as the sun rose above the line of tree-topped hills to the east, I rose, too, and made my way back to the Fisher King's hall. The inner yard was already stirring as the Cymbrogi made ready to go out to their day's labour at the shrine. I entered the yard to the open stares of those who were preparing to leave; most of those gaping at me smiled, some laughed outright and I wondered what they thought amusing. Was it that I had, as they imagined, lost my way in the dark and was forced to spend the night outside? Or did they believe me to have slept in a serving maid's bed?

Ignoring their derisive smirks, I proceeded to the hall, and was met while crossing the yard by Bedwyr and Cai as they came to see the work party away. 'Good day to you, brother,' said Bedwyr; then, looking at me more carefully, added: 'Though it appears you have had the best of the day already.'

Cai was more direct. 'Man, next time get yourself beneath a bush to nap,' he advised, and they both walked off, shaking their heads and laughing.

I stared after them; the inexplicable behaviour of everyone around me was rapidly sapping my lingering tranquillity – I could feel my pleasant, peaceful mood melting away like dew before the midday sun. I vowed to myself that the next person to make jest of me would answer for it. As it happened, the next person was Arthur.

The king came bolting out the doorway as I stood watching Cai and Bedwyr. He slapped me on the back and said, 'Greetings, brother! I have missed you these past days. I am going to the shrine. Ride with me.'

'Nothing would please me more,' I said, took two steps with him, and remembered that I must attend the council instead. 'Forgive me, Arthur, I am forgetting myself,' I said, and explained that, owing to my duty to the council, I could not accompany him.

'Ah, well, tomorrow, then,' he said, then stopped abruptly and looked me in the face. 'The Fellowship is important, Gwalchavad. It will soon take on an eminence of the highest order. Wherever men hear of the Grail Fellowship, their hearts will burn within them. It will become a beacon fire, and all Britain will be illumined by the blaze.'

He smiled suddenly. 'Speaking of fires, it seems you have stood too near the flame, my friend. Farewell!'

Bewildered and annoyed by my baffling reception, I proceeded into the hall in search of bread and a little ale. The Cymbrogi had broken fast, but there was plenty of their leavings to make a meal, so I gathered a bit of this and that onto a platter and settled on one of the benches to eat in peace, and to see if I might recover my former good cheer. I took up one of the small loaves, tore it, and began to eat – only then remembering that I had missed my supper last night and was famished. I was washing down the bread when I saw Myrddin sweep past the entrance to the hall. Hurrying as he was, I had time but to shout his name as I leapt to my feet and started for the door, thinking to catch him before he vanished again.

But before I had taken half a dozen paces, he reappeared at the doorway. 'I have been searching for you,' he said, hastening to meet me. 'They told me you did not return from our walk last night, and I thought -' He broke off, staring at me as he stepped nearer. Then his golden eyes widened and his face assumed an expression of knowing wonder.

'What?' I asked, suddenly reminded of my curious treatment at the hands of my comrades. 'Will no one tell me what is the matter?'

'You have seen it,' observed Myrddin sagely. 'You have seen the Grail.'

I seized him by the arm and drew him further into the hall as if to keep the secret from being overheard. 'What makes you think that?'

'Your face,' he replied, raising a hand to my chin and turning my head to the side. 'You have the look of someone who fell asleep in the sun – your skin is red.'

'Red!'

'Sunburnt,' he said. 'Only, you and I both know there was no secret rising of the sun last night.'

'Sunburnt,' I said, 'but – ' I touched my fingertips lightly to my face; the skin was as dry, with tiny raised bumps like sun blisters, but there was no pain or discomfort, and the flesh felt cool to the touch. Nevertheless, I believed him.

'As you did not return to the Tor, I surmise that you spent the night at the old shrine,' the Wise Emrys explained. 'That is where I first saw the Grail.'

Reluctant still to demean the radiant vision with poor words, I replied, 'I cannot rightly say what I saw.'

He smiled knowingly. 'There is no need, Gwalchavad. I have seen it, too, remember.'

'But why me, Myrddin?' I asked. 'I am not the most devout of men – far from it! There are better Christians than me, and a good many hereabouts. Why me and not one of them?'

'God knows,' he answered. At my disapproving frown, he said, 'That is to say the Spirit moves where it will, and no man may make bold to let or hinder.'

'But I thought the Grail was real – a real cup, that is. What I saw was…' I faltered. What had I seen?

'Oh, it is very much a real cup,' Myrddin assured me quickly. 'But the hallows of this world, the holy and sacred objects given to us for our blessing and edification, are never limited to mere physical manifestation.'

At my confused and baffled expression, the Wise Emrys went on to explain. 'The Grail is no ordinary material object – a cup of bronze or silver, as you suppose. Although it is that, it is also a spiritual entity with a spiritual existence.'

'A hallow – is that what you called it?'

'Indeed. What you saw last night in the shrine was the hallow. That is, the spiritual manifestation of the Grail.'

'A vision of the real cup.'

'If you like,' Myrddin allowed. 'But one is no less real, as you say, than the other.'

'I saw the hallow, then, but what does it mean?'

He shrugged. 'I have no idea.'

'But it must be a sign,' I insisted. 'It must betoken something – something important.'

'God alone knows the why and wherefore.'

That is no answer,' I growled.

'Then ask God for another.'

Myrddin made to move off, but I followed him with my questions. 'What am I to do, Myrddin?'

'Watch and pray,' he advised, repeating his homily of the day before.

'Is that all?' I demanded, losing patience with his irksome reticence. I suppose I should have known better than to demand of a bard the meaning of a vision. They delight in posing riddles, but answers interest them not in the least.

'What more would you have me say?'

'Perhaps you could tell me this, at least,' I said. 'Why were you looking for me?'

'When I learned you had not returned to the Tor, I feared for you.'

'You thought that what happened to Llenlleawg might have befallen me.'

'It was in my mind,' Myrddin allowed, but said no more. A moment later, Bedwyr and Cai returned to the hall, saw us talking, and joined us. The Emrys greeted them and said, 'You must be about your business. Come to me when you have finished, if you like.' He left then, and we took our places at one of the tables to wait for the others, and I finished my meal.

To my relief, neither Cador nor Llenlleawg mentioned my reddened skin, and we began our deliberations where we had abandoned them the day before. We talked throughout the day, and with better resolve; no one, I think, wanted to spend a third day grappling with the others over fine points of custom and ceremony.