'Where?' whispered Gereint, stepping closer. 'I see no one.'

'There,' Bors replied, indicating the place with the blade in his hand. 'You there – waiting in the shadows. Come out!'

'Careful, brother,' I warned. Taking my place behind his right shoulder, I motioned for Gereint to guard Bors' left side. 'There may be more lurking in the trees beyond.'

We advanced halfway across the clearing and stopped. 'You there!' called Bors sternly. 'Come out and declare yourself.'

From the deep-shadowed darkness a voice called out. 'Bors! Gwalchavad!'

'It is Peredur!' said Gereint, starting forward.

Bors caught him by the arm and pulled him back with a warning look as a solitary figure stepped from the surrounding wood into the clearing. We waited. The young warrior stepped nearer and I recognized the familiar shape and stance at last.

'It is Peredur,' Gereint insisted, and hastened to welcome his friend. 'I feared you had been killed by the beast long since. Have you seen the others?'

'Is there no one else here?' Peredur asked, looking past Gereint to Bors and myself. 'Arthur and Myrddin – are they here?'

'It is only the three of us,' Gereint told him. 'We have seen no one else since coming to this part of the wood.' Raising a hand to the chapel behind us, he said, 'We have seen the Grail. It was here.'

'Truly?' wondered Peredur. 'I would give much to have seen that.'

The remark was innocence itself, but the way he said it made our holy experience seem a petty thing. If we had said we had seen a green dog, or a calf with two heads, it might have drawn the same remark.

Bors scrutinized the young man closely. 'Where is your horse?' he asked.

'Oh, nearby,' answered Peredur indifferently. 'I have ridden hard and the animal is tired. I found a trail -1 think the others used it not long ago. Come, we can find them and -'

'Did you come by way of the burning oak?' asked Bors abruptly. I noticed he had yet to put up his weapon.

'No,' answered Peredur. 'I came a different way.'

The young warrior seemed disinclined to say more, but Bors pursued the matter. 'Which way would that be, then?' he said, more in the way of a demand than a question.

Peredur turned and looked Bors full in the face. 'I came by another way,' the young man said, speaking plain and low. There was an edge to his voice I had never heard before.

'Who can find their way in this wood?' said Gereint.

'How long have you been waiting out there?' demanded Bors.

Peredur's eyes narrowed as he gazed at Bors, but he made no reply.

Bors did not allow the query to go unanswered. 'It is perfectly simple,' he said, bristling with animosity. 'How long were you standing out there waiting for us?'

Gereint, who had been eager to interpose himself between the two, looked to me for help. I warned him off with a motion of my hand and he stepped back. Peredur put out his empty hands in a show of goodwill. 'Your suspicions are ill-placed, my friends,' he said with an awkward laugh. 'Yet I bear no grudge. Indeed, I forgive you right readily. Come, now, let us put aside this contention and think what we must do to unite ourselves with our swordbrothers once again.'

Peredur turned away and made to step around Bors. He had taken but one step when Bors seized him by the shoulder and yanked him back around. 'Stay where you are!' he shouted. 'Gwalchavad, relieve him of his sword.'

Knife in hand, I stepped slowly towards the young warrior, saying, 'Stand easy, brother. There is nothing to fear. We are your friends.'

'You behave like enemies!' he snarled, backing away. The hate in his voice struck me like a balled fist.

'Stand!' said Bors, repeating his command with a jerk of his sword.

The man before us opened his mouth to protest, then hesitated – only for an instant, but when he spoke, his demeanour had altered completely. The hate and suspicion fell away from him and he became so mild and contrite I felt ashamed of myself for doubting him.

'Cymbrogi,' he said, 'it is me, Peredur. Why are you treating me so poorly?' Raising an inoffensive hand, he made to step by us. 'I am so glad to see you. Truly, I thought I would never see any of you again. How long have you been here?'

'Forgive us, brother,' Gereint said with a sigh of relief. 'We did not mean to offend you.' He put up his sword and glanced at Bors expectantly. Bors, too, lowered his blade.

'We should try to find Arthur and Myrddin,' Peredur said. 'They cannot be far away. I will show you the trail. Come with me, it is not far.'

Instantly, my senses pricked. I felt a thin thrill of fear ripple across my shoulders. Without a second thought, I stepped swiftly to Peredur. My knife flicked up in the same quick motion, and I pressed the keen edge hard against his throat.

'Step away from us, Gereint,' I commanded. 'Bors, take his weapon.'

Peredur gaped in disbelief. 'Have you gone mad?'

'Perhaps,' I replied as Bors, sword upraised, quickly snatched the blade from the young man's hand. From the corner of my eye I glimpsed the chapel, and it came into my mind how we might discern the truth. 'But you will forgive us our madness, I think. We will not be deceived again.'

I grasped him by the upper arm and, my knife still hard against his throat, I pulled him forward.

'Where are you taking me?' he asked, growing frightened.

'To the altar,' I answered, 'where men's hearts are tried and known.'

The Grail is gone.

Morgaws telk me that it disappeared. The lying bitch insists she had it secured, and that from the moment Llenlleawg delivered it to her, the casket never left her sight. The casket she possesses still, but the cup is gone; what is more, she claims it vanished at the moment the king's champion attacked his king. Morgaws will pay for this blunder. Oh, yes, she will pay dearly. I taught her better than this. Could she not see how much they valued the Grail – that alone should have warned her to be on her guard. How could she be so blind?

The insolent cow insinuates that it is my fault for not warning her of the cup's true power. I remind her that whatever else it may be, the cup is just bait in a trap so far as she is concerned, and that whatever powers it might possess, the gaudy trinket certainly did not divert the doom which even now crushes our enemies in its cold embrace.

The disappearance of the cup makes not the slightest difference; it will not change anything. All is ordered as I have planned, and even now the end swiftly approaches. Already, events are hurtling towards the consummation of my plan: my crowntaking, and the reign of terror to follow. My triumph will be devastating.

Some monarch, upon accession to the throne, declare the pardon of their opponents, and the forgiveness of sins practised against them. I shall do the opposite, however. The blood will flow from one end of Britain to the other! I think I shall begin with bishops, and then… well, all in good time.

First, I must have that cup. Morgaws will devote her full attention to its recovery – before the fools somehow discover what it was they let slip away. The thought that they might get hold of it again does not sit well with me. It may be time for me to intervene.

'Brother,' said Peredur, dragging his feet, 'there is no need for this. You are anxious over nothing.'

I drew the young warrior forward a few paces, whereupon he stopped. 'Gereint,' he said, pleading, 'you are my kinsman. Tell them – tell them.'

Bors stepped behind us and prodded the reluctant warrior from behind with the sword point in the small of his back. 'Move along, friend.'

Peredur, outmanned and unarmed, seemed to accept his lot. He nodded and proceeded docilely. 'You are wise to be suspicious,' he said after a few steps. 'But you know me. What can you possibly hope to achieve? It is meaningless.'