'From that moment, the combined kingdoms of Rhiannon and Manawyddan became known as the Isle of the Everliving. The realm flourished as never before, producing a bounty of all good things, and becoming the envy of all the world.

'Many tales are told of this enchanted island, but this tale is finished. Let him hear it who will.'

The Grail is mine! The single most potent talisman in all the world, and it is mine!

Oh, Morgaws, my lovely one, you have done better than you know – better, even, than that simple sot of a nephew of mine will ever know. And to think Avallach had it all this time! All these years, Avallach kept it hidden away, never sharing the secret with anyone.

Of course, if I had so much as imagined Avallach possessed such a relic, I would have taken it long ago. He would never have given it to me; when did Avallach ever give me anything? Truly, if he had ever favoured me with even the crumb of consideration he shows the hound sniffing around his stables, things might be far different now.

But did the mighty Fisher King ever lift a finger for me? Never! It was all for Charis, always for Charis. She had everything, and I had nothing. Taliesin should have been mine! Together, we would have ruled Britain forever.

Charis, Goddess of the Stinking Masses, will yet curse the day of her birth. I might have killed her any of a thousand times – it would have been so easy! But death would merely end her suffering, and I want her torment to linger long.

No, it will not be Charis who dies; it will be the wretched Merlin and his clumsy creature, Arthur, swiftly followed by his simpering slut of a queen and her ox-brained champion. They will all go weeping and wailing to their graves – but not before they have seen their ridiculous dream destroyed by the one real power in this world. They had the Grail, the fools, they had it in their hands and failed to discern what it was they held.

Well, before I am finished, they will rue their ignorance. They will gnaw out their own bowels with regret. They will claw out their own eyes as they watch their absurd Kingdom of Summer, all sweetness and light, shrivel away like dung on a hot rock.

This will cause Avallach no end of pain – literally. For, now that I have the Grail, the pain will truly last forever.

Rising the next morning, we formed the columns and journeyed deeper into the Wasteland. The wind was cold out of the northwest, but the sky stayed clear and bright, and I took heart, for the Pendragon was in better spirits than I had seen him since the Grail disappeared. This, I surmise, was to Myrddin's credit; his song had put everyone in fine mettle. Though far, far ahead on the horizon I could see the dark grey-blue cloud line of a winter storm rising in the south, I considered we were more than a match for whatever came our way.

By midday the storm had made little progress, and I began to think it might pass us by, or hold off altogether. When we stopped to make camp for the night, I walked with Myrddin to a nearby hill to see what we might learn of the region. The sun was setting in a violent blaze of red and grey. Pointing to the heavy band of blue-edged darkness clearly visible on the horizon, I said, 'I have been watching it all day, but the storm has not advanced a whit.'

'Yes,' he murmured absently. Squinting his golden eyes against the glowing sky, Myrddin surveyed the long blue-black line. I observed that the wind, which had been at our backs through the day, had died down now, and the land was quiet -save for a small, distant rhythmic rumbling, like that of ocean waves pounding against cliffs.

At last, the Wise Emrys said, 'When we discussed your sojourn in Llyonesse, you said nothing about a forest. Why was that, Gwalchavad?'

'Lord Emrys,' I said, turning my face towards him, 'I mentioned no forest for the simple reason that there was no forest.'

Lifting a hand to the squat stripe sitting thick and dusky on the far horizon, Myrddin replied, 'There is a forest now.'

'How can this be?' I wondered aloud; doubting him never occurred to me. 'I did not think we had come so far out of our way. We must have wandered further astray in the fog than I imagined.'

'No, Gwalchavad,' Myrddin said, 'we have not wandered out of our way.' He turned and began walking back to camp, leaving me to ponder the more subtle implications of his words.

Did he mean, I wondered, that the forest had grown up since I had last passed this way? Or that the forest was always there, but I had not seen it? Could I have ridden through a forest and never noticed a single tree?

Either alternative was as unlikely as the other. Possibly, some bedevilment had blinded me to it, or caused me to forget. I decided to ask Peredur about this, and discover what he remembered.

I found the young warrior helping raise the picket line for the night. As when in war, Arthur had commanded the horses to be picketed, rather than tethered, so they might be readied more quickly should need arise. I called him from his work. 'Follow me. I have something to show you,' I said, leading him away.

He fell into step beside me, and I asked, 'Do you remember when we were here last time?'

'I have been trying my best to forget.'

'Well, I would ask if you recall passing through a forest during our sojourn in Llyonesse.'

'Forest!' he exclaimed. 'Why, the place is barren as a desert -as you very well know. If we had – ' Realizing that I was in earnest, Peredur stopped and regarded me strangely. 'Lord? Forgive me, but I thought you in jest. Why would you ask such a thing?'

We gained the hilltop where Myrddin and I had just stood. There, I pointed to the bruise-coloured line hugging the gently undulating southern horizon, and said, 'See now! A forest where none was seen before.'

Peredur gaped at the sight, glanced at me, and then returned his gaze to the tree line, visible now as a blue-black band below a swiftly fading twilight sky. 'It might be clouds only.'

'The Emrys is in no doubt,' I replied. 'Trees – not clouds.'

The young man's face squirmed into a frown. 'Myrddin cannot be faulted, I suppose,' he allowed reluctantly. 'It must be that we strayed far from the trail when we rode in the fog.'

His tone did nothing to quell my suspicions, but I agreed and we returned to camp and helped finish the picket by tying horses to the central line, before hurrying to one of the four large fires that had been lit to keep us warm through the night. There was a stew of salt pork, black beans, and bread for our supper: bland-tasting mush, but hot and substantial after a cold day in the saddle. When the meal was finished, some of the warriors tried to get Myrddin to sing again, but he would not. He said a sword is made dull by dragging it out all the time, and he wanted a keen blade when next he reached for it.

So we huddled near the fire and talked and dozed instead, and night tightened its grip on us. One by one, the Cymbrogi succumbed to the all-pervasive silence of the blighted land. We wrapped ourselves in our cloaks, closed our eyes, and tried to sleep. Sometime during the night, the wind rose again, this time gusting from the south, colder. I tasted snow on the icy air, and edged closer to the fire.

We awoke to a hard frost and wind like a knife cutting through our cloaks. There was no snow, but a low grey sky spat dry sleet on us, making for a miserable slog as we began the day. We broke fast, and started out, only to halt again as we crested the first hill.

Myrddin flung out his hand, and Arthur pulled hard on the reins; his mount reared. The company stopped behind us, alert to danger. I heard the dull ring of weapons being readied. The Emrys glanced over his shoulder and motioned me to draw alongside.