Bellina Saunce Pité returned to the great hall of Castle Spar-Longius arm-in-arm with her new friend, Dame Maledisant of the Castle Orgulous, far across the seas to the south of Britain. Although Bellina was envious of her new friend’s title, and a particularly fine set of bejewelled lace scarves she wore around her slim hips, the two had passed the hours between the close of the feast and the commencement of pre-tournament festivities in pleasant talk. Together they had dissected the behaviour of the ridiculous girl in the scarlet dress, concluding that the girl’s presumption in approaching Merlin and the Lady of the Slates had been an attempt to gain the attention of Sir Lancelot. Then they had moved on to most delightful criticisms of the clothes, faces and physical imperfections of the other girls in attendance.

Bellina was always delighted when she found someone with almost as keen an eye and sharp a tongue as her own. The two young women had laughed so long and hard that Bellina had quite forgotten to warn Maledisant that her shift was showing above her low-cut bodice, or mention that the dress itself had fallen somewhat out of fashion. Living somewhere as remote as Castle Orgulous it was no wonder that Maledisant was a little behind the times. Bellina pitied her new friend, and planned to invite the young dame to visit her in London, where Maledisant would be able to buy more current things from the best dressmakers.

The servants had removed the tables from the great hall, leaving only rows of benches at the edges of what would soon become an arena for dancing. The royal party had gathered on the raised area around King Pellam’s throne, and were talking casually as they awaited the arrival of the champion of lower lists, the official opening of the pre-tourney dance.

The two young women strolled through the crowds of knights and nobles who had gathered around the floor. Bellina’s father and Sir Garlon were talking again, standing up near the high table, only this time the Lady of Slates was with them. Fat old Lady Helen was bending down to speak in a most unladylike manner, one that emphasised how much extra weight she was carrying around her middle. Her ugly dress, which clashed terribly with King Pellam’s robe, was positively disappearing into rolls of flesh formed by her flabby belly. No wonder she had lost her lands, looking like that. Bellina tried not to look at Merlin, who was sitting near them, with his feet dangling from the raised area. The wizard reminded her of things she would much rather put out of mind entirely.

The younger women had gathered to one side of the hall, and it was towards these that Bellina and Maledisant made their way. Bellina once again assessed the qualities of her rivals. Another part of tournament tradition was that the champion of lower lists chose an unmarried girl to partner him in the first dance. Bellina had been honoured by the choice more than once, but at sixteen summers she was not getting any younger. Although she would not have admitted it, she was worried that people were starting to laugh behind her back. She feared that they were taking notice of the fact that she was unwed, and speculating on what was wrong with her.

‘Oh Lord Jesus, not again,’ said Maledisant.

‘Oh! How embarrassing, I can hardly look.’

There was a commotion amongst the gathered girls, as humungous Lady Annow (of whom the joke was that instead of ‘anough’ she said ‘annow’) supported a white-faced, sweating girl who looked ready to collapse to the floor.

‘Elaineof Astolat,’ said Bellina, ‘she’s such an actress.’

‘You don’t have to tell me, my darling Bellina,’ replied Maledisant. ‘Elaine once pretended to faint when my brother was talking weapons at table.’ She turned her hand into a wizened claw and trembled it in front of her, as if she was having difficulty raising it. ‘Lancelot, Lancelot, said Elaine, you talk of my beloved Lancelot. To which my brother replied that no, he was talking about his lances. We call her Elaine the Blank in Castle Orgulous, after what she’s got in her head.’

Bellina was delighted by her new friend’s story.

On the edge of the group of girls was the wonderfully severe Queen Melody of Cornwall. Bellina loved the old woman for her sharp and scathing wit, and sure enough, Melody was shaking her head at the scene Elaine of Astolat was creating around herself.

‘That girl,’ said Melody to the two girls as they passed, ‘faints more than a fencer.’

‘Do you know what is wrong with her, Queen Melody?’ said Maledisant.

‘Something about Sir Lancelot, I imagine. It is always something about Sir Lancelot with girls today. King Arthur should do the country a favour and force the pretty-boy to marry, that would soon take the shine from him. A fat and happy Lancelot would be a great boon to Britain; you girls would get so much more done.’

Bellina looked back up to the raised area. Sir Lancelot wasn’t there.

‘He’s gone, they say,’ said Queen Melody, noting the direction of Bellina’s glance. ‘Rode out of Spar-Longius half an hour ago, looking lost. I suppose that’s what set the Astolat girl off.’

Bellina felt a pang of loss in her belly. Like most girls she harboured dreams of becoming Bellina du Lac, and had spent a good portion of the feast gorging on the sight of the astonishingly gorgeous knight at the high table. She hoped the Cornish queen did not see that feeling reflected in her face.

‘Come on, my dear,’ said Maledisant, pulling at Bellina’s arm. ‘We shouldn’t keep Queen Melody.’

Bellina felt another feeling entirely when the door opened behind King Pellam’s throne, and Elia ambled out onto the stage, her harp in hand. The shame of her servant’s stupidity rushed right through her.

‘I say, is that your –’ said Maledisant, but Bellina had broken their linked arms and was reaching through the crowd to help Lady Annow with Elaine the Blank. Anything to stop people from connecting the little bard to herself.

Unseen by Bellina, Elia wandered across the stage, wholly oblivious to the shame she was causing her mistress, or the dishonour she was doing the royal party by crossing their platform. She went to the lip of the stage and dropped to the floor. Though she did not watch, Bellina heard the titters as the bard wandered through the crowd of girls towards her. The next thing Bellina knew Elia was pulling at her skirts, disturbing their perfectly orchestrated pleats.

Of the many things in her life Bellina Saunce Pité tried to forget, which ranged from the death of her mother in childbirth to the endless succession of stepmothers she hated, Elia represented the most recent. After they had returned to Britain on the Saracen girl’s nasty longboat, Bellina had hoped to put everything that happened in Castle Eudaimon behind her. More than that, she had hoped to eliminate it entirely from her life. She had sent for her father as soon as they landed at that horrible little village on the coast, and he had come for her without delay.

But instead of taking her straight back to London as she wished, Sir Breuse had decided to hear the whole story from the mouth of Mordred, who Bellina found a fraction handsome but wholly wrong in the head. She hated the boy from Erin for the way he had treated her throughout their time on Avalon. Despite Bellina’s protests, her father had been angry enough with Arthur to agree to quietly support Mordred’s campaign against the King of Britain. Though Sir Breuse would do nothing overt against Camelot until he was certain that the opposition was strong enough to win, he promised to begin testing the waters among his acquaintances in London and the Kentish lands. Mordred had asked Bellina’s father to take Elia into their household, both to tell their tale, and also to spy on Arthur and his allies when the Saunce Pités visited Camelot. All the things that Bellina had hoped to strike out of mind had thus become a permanent part of her daily existence.

‘I need a word, Bellina,’ said Elia, her hand dirtying her mistress’ skirts.

Bellina felt a flash of rage. ‘Address me properly,’ she said through gritted teeth.

Elia sighed. ‘Can I have a word please, Damosel B? It’s really quite urgent. Over there.’ She pointed towards an empty corner of the room.

‘What do you think you were doing coming out of the royal apartments?’ said Bellina as they crossed into the empty space.

‘I just went for a listen about, you know. And I heard some interesting stuff. But I, uh, got a bit lost on my way back.’

‘You should be up in the gallery with the other musicians.’

‘I know, I know; I’ll go. It’s just I need you to bring someone back to the chamber tonight.’

Bellina was stunned at the girl’s impertinence. As if a Saunce Pité would ever risk her reputation in that way.

‘You don’t have to come in, don’t worry, but I need to talk to that boy we met on the road – Balin of the Isles, remember? The one with the angry girl in the pigeon-skin cloak you talked to at table. The lass in the scarlet dress. They joined our wagon-train with that fat lad with the nag.’

‘Is he here?’ Bellina looked around. Of course she remembered the boy, she had been delighted by how jealous his glances at her had made the pigeon-girl.

‘He’s not here yet,’ said Elia with a grin. ‘But he will be shortly. And I’m sure you can use your, er, your womanly… Look, you’re pretty, yes; just make it look natural.’

Bellina was tempted to refuse, but what Elia said next changed her mind.

‘Oh, and congratulations by the way!’

‘Why?’ said Bellina.

‘You’re to be married; I heard a moment ago.’ Elia was remarkable for the sharpness of her hearing, able to hear conversations in locked rooms from three doors away. ‘Your father just offered you to Sir Garlon, and the Knight Invisible accepted.’

Bellina’s heart jumped in her chest. As she had told the girl in the scarlet dress, Sir Garlon was very rich. But he was not what she imagined for her husband. He was older, and not as pretty as the boys she truly desired. It was a good match, but she wished her father had consulted her before concluding the agreement. Bellina tried to suppress her emotions, concentrate on the surfaces of things; that was how she had taught herself to banish disappointment from her mind.

‘Oh, Elia,’ she said, as the bard made to go back up to the gallery with the other musicians.

‘Aye, Belli – I mean, yes, mistress.’

‘This discussion should also look authentic, I think.’ And with that Bellina Saunce Pité slapped Elia hard in the face for the embarrassment she had caused.