'Now?' said Cai. 'We have just this moment returned from there.'

'Now,' Bors insisted. 'I want to see this marvel for myself. If it is as you say, even a moment is too long to wait.'

'But the shrine is closed now,' I explained. 'Even if it were not, people in their hundreds have waited through the day to see it, and now must wait through the night as well. They stand ahead of you, brother. But never fear, I have the watch tomorrow, and I will take you and make certain you get to see it.'

Bors yielded with good grace. 'Very well,' he said, 'if I must wait, then at least I tarry in good company. Bless me, but I am sorry I missed the fighting. Was it bad?'

'Bad enough,' I replied. 'The Saecsens were worse, of course, but the Vandali were nearly as bad – fiercest when backed into a corner. Fortunately, Arthur saw to it that did not happen very often. Mostly, we chased them up and down the valleys. They had their women and children with them.'

'God in Heaven!' He shook his head in disbelief.

'Truly,' I declared. 'It seems they had been forced to flee their homeland in the southern seas somewhere, and they were looking for new lands for settlement.'

'They chose the wrong place when they chose Britain,' Bors said.

'They tried lerna first,' I said, 'and when we chased them away from those green hills, they came here. It took the whole summer, but we vanquished them at last. Even so, they have not done too badly.'

'No?' He regarded us dubiously.

'For a truth,' Cai declared, nodding. 'In return for peace and sworn allegiance to the High King, Arthur gave them lands in the north.'

'He never did!'

'Did and done,' I told him, and related the story of how Arthur had undertaken single combat with the Black Boar, and received the deadly wound which ended in the miraculous healing. 'I believe it is for the best,' I concluded. The Grail is established, Britain is at peace, and the Kingdom of Summer is begun. Never has there been a better time to be alive.'

Bors regarded me curiously, trying to determine if I was sincere or not. Unable to decide, he reached for the cup instead, took a long draught of the ale, whereupon one of the serving men appeared to say that Avallach called for his guests to take their places at the board. We hurried into the hall, where we were joined at table by Bedwyr and Cador, and some others eager to renew their acquaintance with Bors. The talk was fine and amiable, the ale flowed freely, and we spent the evening pledging and repledging our undying friendship to one another.

'I wish Llenlleawg were here,' Bedwyr said at one point. 'This is just the tonic that would do him good.'

'To Llenlleawg!' proclaimed Cai grandly. 'The finest warrior who ever drew sword or sat horse.'

'I will drink to that,' declared Cador cheerfully, raising his cup high.

'To the finest warrior that ever drew sword!' echoed Bedwyr, and we all acclaimed the sentiment with a noisy rattling of our cups.

We were then overtaken by a sudden and irresistible urge to drink the health and virtue of every single member of the Dragon Flight, fine men each and every one. Night was far gone when I finally found my bed. The warriors' lodgings were full, so I took off my boots and curled up in the corner. It seemed that I had merely closed my eyes when I was roughly roused by someone shaking me by the shoulder.

'Wake up!' said a voice loud in my ear. 'Lord Gwalchavad, please, wake up!'

I opened one eye, and recognized the face hovering above me in the dark. 'Tallaght, what are you doing?'

'I am trying to wake you, lord,' he said.

'You have achieved your ambition,' I replied, and made to roll over. 'Now go away and let me sleep.'

He started shaking me again. 'Forgive me, lord. You must come with me. There is trouble.'

I sat up. 'What trouble?' I demanded, pulling on my boots.

'I cannot say,' he answered. 'Rhys says the Pendragon has roused the Dragon Flight. We are summoned to the yard at once.'

As we were no great distance from the hall, I could hear men moving quickly and quietly in the corridor beyond. By the time we joined them, the yard was in turmoil: men rushing everywhere at once to saddle horses and procure weapons by torchlight. I caught sight of Rhys, leading Arthur's mount from the stables.

'Rhys!' I shouted, running to meet him. 'Are we attacked?'

'The shrine,' he shouted breathlessly as he passed without slowing. 'Something has happened at the shrine.'

'Well, what is it, man?'

'How do I know?'

He hurried on, so I concerned myself with saddling my horse and arming myself. I had just strapped a sword to my hip and got hold of a spear when Rhys' hunting horn called us to be mounted. I swung into the saddle and saw Arthur across the yard, his face set in that expression I have come to know well: the serene, unhurried calm of a skilled craftsman assembling the tools of his trade. Unlike other men when riding into battle, the Pendragon becomes more himself rather than less.

Even-tempered by nature, in a fight Arthur is never uneasy or alarmed, never worried or distressed, never fear-fraught nor less yet unnerved. Myrddin has said that he believes Arthur truly lives only in the fight. 'Many warriors live to fight,' Myrddin told me once, 'but Arthur comes alive in battle – the way an eagle only conies alive when it takes flight.'

'He is courageous,' I agreed.

'What is courage but the mastery of fear?' said the Wise Emrys. 'But there is no fear in Arthur. Tell me, does the eagle fear the wind that frees him to fly?'

Well, the Eagle of Britain was ready to soar, and those who recognized the sight knew well what it meant.

We rode through the gate and pounded onto the winding Tor path in the dark – there must have been fifty or more men clattering down the hillside at Arthur's back. Gaining the lakeside path, we flew past the monastery, scrambled over the lowland, and made directly for Shrine Hill, where we found the place in chaos.

People were stumbling around in the darkness, for the moon had set and dawn had not yet come, and they were shouting at one another; the women were wailing and children were crying, but I could not see what had happened to cause such distress. There was a crush of confusion at the foot of Shrine Hill; Rhys gave forth blast after blast on the horn, and we forced our way through the clinging throng and rode for the hilltop.

The shrine itself was peacefully quiet, and we swiftly discovered why: the warriors charged with guarding the shrine were dead. They lay on the steps leading to the entrance to the shrine where they had fallen. All had been attacked with a sword and suffered horrific wounds – several had lost limbs, and one had been decapitated.

Arthur took one look at the carnage and said, 'Who had the watch tonight?' His voice was tight, as if he were speaking with immense difficulty.

'Llenlleawg,' I answered.

Without another word, the king turned and mounted the steps to the shrine. He stepped inside, only to emerge a moment later, his face frozen in a rictus of shock and dismay.

'Arthur?' said Bedwyr as the king strode past. 'Is he inside?'

But the king made no reply and, without so much as a backward glance, walked back down the hill.

Seizing a torch from the hand of a nearby warrior, Bedwyr dashed to the entrance of the shrine. 'Well?' Cador shouted at him.

When Bedwyr did not answer, Cador cleared the steps in a bound and dashed inside. I could see the torchlight playing over the interior of the shrine, and then Cador appeared in the doorway looking shaken and unsteady. Thinking to see Llenlleawg dead in a pool of blood, I leapt up the steps to the door of the shrine and looked inside – but there was neither blood nor body. Indeed, the shrine was completely empty…

Owing to my relief at not finding Llenlleawg's corpse, it took a moment for the awful significance to break over me. But when it did, it burst with all the fury of a tempest: the shrine was empty… the Grail was gone, Caledvwlch was gone, and Llenlleawg was nowhere to be found.