Then Dread Morgian's dark minions attacked.

'Cut me free!' cried Arthur, struggling to his feet.

I staggered towards him, amazed that I could move again.

'Hurry, Gwalchavad!' Behind him, I glimpsed Morgian's massed battlehost surging to the attack.

There was no shout of command, no battle cry. One moment they were standing at the ready, and the next they were in motion, swarming down upon us.

'Gwalchavad!' cried the Pendragon, holding out his chained hands. 'For the love of God, man, cut me free!'

I was beside him in an instant. Raising the sword, I took careful aim, and brought the blade down sharply. The blow made not the slightest mark on the chain. I tried again, and yet once more – with no greater success than before – and then the enemy was upon us.

Turning to meet the attack, I put myself between the king and the onrushing foe, and shouted for the others to join me. 'Bors! Gereint!'

Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Bors as he raced to take his place at my right hand. Expecting Gereint on my left, I turned, and when I did not see him, I shouted for him. He did not answer.

'Gereint!' I cried again.

'Here I am!'

I heard his voice behind me as he dashed for his place on my left. He came up with me, but did not stop. Instead, he raced on ahead. I saw a flash of gold in his hands as he blew past.

'He has the Grail!' Bors shouted.

Gereint, holding the Blessed Cup between his hands, ran to meet the foe alone. Lofting the Sacred Bowl, he cried, 'In the name of Christ Jesu,' he shouted, 'be gone!"

Confusion descended upon the onrushing host. The foremost ranks halted ia mid-step and fell back. Those behind kept coming, trampling the leaders underfoot before they could halt themselves.

The young warrior, defiant and unafraid, stood in the midst of the chaos. 'In the name of the Father God, the Blessed Son, and the Holy Spirit,' Gereint shouted again, 'I command you to leave this place. Return to Hell!'

All at once there arose the sound of a thousand wings taking flight, and the enemy host flew. They appeared to shrivel and diminish, wrinkling and shrinking like the flesh of rotten fruit in the sun. Even as we stood looking on, they became no more than husks of grain, brittle and dry, and though there was no wind, they appeared to rise up into the air as if scattering and dispersing before a mighty gale. The power that had called them and sustained them was broken, and now they fled, away from the realm of light and life, and back to the nameless pit from which they had been summoned.

Spinning and tumbling into the void, the last of them disappeared and they were no more. A great peal of thunder broke over us and I looked up to see the leaden vault of the sky crack open and a single shaft of light stabbed down into the gloom of the forest. Like a spear thrown from on high, the beam struck the chapel, transforming the stone to silver, dazzling our light-starved eyes. In the same moment a scream pierced the air high above us- a wounded cry, dying away even as it was born. Myrddin lifted his head at the sound and said, 'Morgian is defeated.' His voice sounded tired and old, but the light in his eye was undimmed. 'We have driven her back to her darksome lair and, God willing, she will not trouble us again for a very long time.'

The thunder cracked once more and I felt something wet on my face. 'It is raining!' someone shouted, and as the word was uttered, the heavens opened and down poured the precious water. The blessed rain fell from the sky, striking down through the empty air to bathe the long-parched earth.

We raised our faces to the glorious water and drank it down.

'The chains -' called Gwenhwyvar, holding up her hands, 'I am free!' Myrddin and Arthur held out their hands, and Rhys and Peredur. As with Gwenhwyvar, wherever the rain touched the links, the chains parted and the pieces fell to the ground, the shattered links melting like ice.

Standing in the rain beneath that low, leaden sky, I looked around and understood that we alone had survived; of all the multitude, only we were left: Arthur and Gwenhwyvar, Bors, Gereint, Peredur, Rhys, Myrddin and me, and, alas, Llenlleawg. Dazed and bewildered, we all gazed at one another, trying to comprehend our miraculous survival.

Arthur moved to where Bors and Gereint and I stood. Falling to one knee, he put Caledvwlch point downward on the ground and held the bare blade in both hands. Then, as if swearing a solemn oath upon the Holy Cross, he said, 'Most noble friends, I owe you my kingdom and my life. No king was ever served by more loyal and honourable men, and no king was ever more aware of his failing. I beg your forgiveness, and offer my pledge, as I would offer it to Jesu himself, that I will never forget the debt of gratitude and honour that I, and all Britain, owe you.'

Bors, touched by the king's words, rushed forward and embraced him, saying, 'Rise, Arthur, rise. You owe me nothing, and there is nothing to forgive. I did only what I have ever done in your service.'

Gereint, shamed at the sight of his king kneeling to him, bent his head nervously and looked away. I stepped forward and prostrated myself before Arthur. 'Lord Pendragon,' I said, 'it is I who must beg your forgiveness. It is through my weakness that this evil has befallen us.'

Arthur stood, reached down, and raised me to my feet. 'Where is the fault? You have remained steadfast through all things. What lord could ask more?'

So we stood together, my king and I, the rain falling over us. Gwenhwyvar, Rhys, and Peredur joined us and, in delight and eagerness, everyone began talking at once.

'God love you, Bear, but it is Earth and Sky to be with you again,' Bors said, his grin wide and handsome. 'I thought I would never see any of you again.'

It was exactly what Bedwyr would have said, and grief awakened at the words. 'Lord,' I said, turning to Arthur, 'I fear the answer, but I must know. What happened to the rest of the Cymbrogi?'

'I never saw any of them after the fire,' replied Arthur sadly. 'We all became separated in the forest. I fear they are dead. Rhys, Myrddin, and I somehow stayed together. I thought we were the only ones left until we saw you.' He then told us how they were ambushed in the darkness while they slept; Llenlleawg, leading a host of the foe, delivered them to Morgaws, with whom they found Gwenhwyvar and Peredur bound and waiting. 'There was nothing we could do,' Arthur said. 'You saw how many warriors she commanded. We fought, but were overwhelmed from the start.'

We then told Arthur how it was with us: how we had come upon the chapel and had cleaned away the defiling filth. We told how the Grail Maiden had appeared and returned the Holy Cup, how we had found Caledvwlch in the well and fended off each attack made on the chapel.

'You have done well,' Myrddin declared. 'Heaven has blessed your efforts. Your reward is assured.' Lifting a hand to the chapel, he said, 'Come, let us thank God for the victory he has given us.'

'You are right to remind us of the source of our salvation,' replied Arthur. 'But say not that we have won a victory this day; rather, say that God in his mercy has cut short the tribulation and spared our lives.'

The Wise Emrys motioned to Gereint, who, bearing the Most Holy Grail, entered the chapel. We followed, silently, each wrapped in his separate thoughts, to join the young warrior at the altar. He had replaced the cup and it sat on the stone, glimmering softly in the light of its own gentle radiance. The king gazed long upon the cup, then bowed his head and wept for his lost Cymbrogi. In this he was not alone; I, too, gave myself over to my grief for the dead, as did we all.

After a time, Myrddin stirred and, in his clear, strong voice, began singing a lament for the dead. He sang The Last Returning, a fine and fitting song for a warrior who has fallen in the fight and will not be going home with his king. Then the Wise Emrys led us in prayers of thanksgiving for our deliverance.