Accordingly, we all agreed with Cai's observation of the previous day that, yes, the Grail was a rare treasure requiring protection. Therefore, the first rule of the Grail Fellowship would be to protect the shrine wherein the holy vessel was contained. The five of us – Arthur's battlechiefs, that is – would choose the guards from among the members of the Fellowship. Further, in order to ensure proper reverence and vigilance, each member of the Fellowship would be required to swear sacred oaths of loyalty and allegiance, not only to Arthur, Lord of the Summer Realm, but also to the Lord Christ, whose cup it was our sworn duty to protect.

That much was easy to agree upon, which we promptly did -and then our swift forward march quickly bogged down in the mire of minutia. Questions arose which we had not anticipated, and for which, once raised, answers must be found. What, for example, if a member of the Fellowship should disobey his duty, or fall into disgrace? How should the remedy be determined? Should there be orders of rank among the members of the Fellowship? If so, how should these be comprised?

All these and more beset us, and for each one we answered, two more sprang up to take its place. Thus the day passed, and I began to fear we would be at our task forever, when Bedwyr, who observed what was happening, suggested a compromise: that we begin with what we had agreed upon, but retain the right to amend or add rules to the ordering of the Fellowship whenever the need arose.

By this time, tempers were frayed and it felt as if we had been treading on eggs all day long. We were fairly panting for a cool drink, and Cador went off to fetch it. No sooner had he gone than Llenlleawg, having grown increasingly peevish as the day wore on, pushed himself to his feet and declared that he was not so thirsty that he could not wait until supper. 'If we have finished,' he said curtly, 'I will beg to be excused further discussions. A matter awaits my attention elsewhere.'

'Yes, go, by all means,' Bedwyr told him. 'We have finished, God willing. Unless you have any objection, I will inform Arthur that our deliberations have borne fruit, and that we have reached an end for the time being.'

The tall Irishman inclined his head in assent and took his leave at once.

'He could not wait to get free of us,' Bedwyr observed. 'It is not like him to be so hasty.'

'Especially with ale in the offing,' Cai added meaningfully.

'No doubt the cut and thrust of a blade is more suited to his nature,' I allowed. 'This wordful striving is tedious; it makes my head ache.'

'Aye,' agreed Cai, 'it does that.' He thought for a moment, then added, 'I say we should ride out to the new shrine and take word to Arthur. After sitting in this hall the whole day, I could use a breath of fresh air.'

'After the ale,' amended Bedwyr.

'Oh, aye, after the ale,' replied Cai, surprised that there should be any question about that.

'I am for it,' I said. Consequently, when Cador returned bearing the jug and cups himself, we all hailed him a hero, drank up, and raced out to join the work party at the shrine.

Nothing much had changed since the last time I visited the site. A few more stones had been placed along the line of the circular wall, and additional timbers erected. The heap of stone was somewhat larger, but that was all – despite the many eager hands available, for all the Cymbrogi were employed.

'The work is going well,' Arthur said happily, dragging his forearm across his sweating brow. We found him standing atop the hill, bare to the waist and covered in rock dust. The sweat made little muddy rivulets where it had trickled down his back and sides. 'Indeed, far better than I hoped. I think we will be able to hold the rites of consecration at the Christ Mass.'

'Look at you, Bear,' Bedwyr commented. 'Grey as a ghost, and filthy with dust. Have you been rolling in the stuff?'

That the Pendragon of Britain should be toiling in the dirt did not surprise me in the least. Arthur was so eager for the Grail to be enshrined so that the Summer Realm might commence in full, I think he would have moved whole mountains with his bare hands if that would have helped. We all agreed that if the work continued at pace, the shrine would certainly be finished in time to mark the turning year.

'Now, then, have you anything to show for your labours?' the king asked.

'We have indeed, lord,' Bedwyr replied, and began relating all we had discussed, and the decisions we had reached. We each took it in turn to supplement Bedwyr's admirably succinct, if somewhat flat-footed, report with comments of our own.

Arthur listened, nodding from time to time, and when Bedwyr had finished, declared himself well pleased with the result. 'It is just as I hoped,' he said, his smile quick and warm with approval. 'You have done your king good service.'

As he turned his gaze towards the heap of stone and timber, I saw the light come up in his eyes, and he said, 'Guardians of the Grail… I am pleased.' Facing us once more, he added, 'To you is granted the highest honour of a warrior in this worlds-realm. So be it.'

Over the next days, a few embellishments were added to the ordering of the Fellowship, but the basic structure we had erected remained intact. The Cymbrogi expressed enthusiastic support of the Fellowship, and as the work on the shrine slowly proceeded, so their zeal increased; it seemed their ardour, like the king's, knew no bounds.

With the passing days, something akin to religious fervour took hold of all who laboured on the new shrine. It seemed as if faith raised the circle of stone. Indeed, curious happenings became commonplace: a heavy stone slipped and fell onto a man's hand as he tried to lift it onto the wall, but instead of his fingers being crushed, he received not so much as a pinch or scratch. Two workers, using nothing but their bare hands, stopped a wagon laden with rubble from rolling downhill when the wagon hitch broke – it had taken two oxen to pull the wagon in the first place. Another man, who had worked himself into such a frenzy that his hands became blistered, had his blisters healed overnight while he slept, so that he was able to renew his exertions the next morning.

There were several minor accidents as well, mind: a fully laden horse stepped on the foot of one poor fellow and crushed two toes, which then had to be cut off. Another unfortunate slipped in the mud and hit his head against one of the lower steps; he bled like a stuck pig from an ugly gash, and had to have his hair shaved off in order to dress the wound. Neither of these, nor one or two others, were blessed with any miraculous cures, however, and instead had to be carried to the abbey for the monks to tend.

Once out of sight, the afflicted were swiftly forgotten in the general excitement. Thus the small miracles loomed larger than perhaps they ought, which served to heighten the euphoria. Bishop Elfodd said that the miracles were signs heralding the dawn of a peace to last a thousand years. Once the Grail Shrine was consecrated, he said, the Age of Peace would begin, and all Britain would be blessed with signs and wonders.

Strange to say, then, that as the elation of those around me waxed the greater, my own fervour waned. Perverse creature that I am, the intense, almost ecstatic jubilation of my comrades combined with my own sinful pride to produce the opposite reaction in me. I quickly came to view both the shrine and the Fellowship with distaste; what I once held in kindly favour became offensive to me. I could not bear to look at the shrine without shrinking from it. The very mention of the Grail Fellowship put my teeth on edge. Well, the fault is mine; I own it and confess it freely, so that you will know what manner of man I am.

See, now: I do not shrink from the truth, even when it tells against me. Indeed, though it brings me no pleasure, I write this so all may believe me when I relate the horror of what is to follow.