The gates swung shut behind us. We heard the bars scrape back into place.

At the centre of Merlin's sphere of power the distortion was much less than at the edge. I could feel the magic in me being drawn towards the wizard, but the world appeared as it did the others, save for my awareness that we were within the crystal bubble. It created a glassy distortion above our heads, not unlike the border of the Lake.

The six riders — Arthur, Gawain, Gareth, Tristan, Sir Breuse and the Sessite general — stared at us in silence. They had been joined on the ridge before the castle gates not just by Merlin, but also by hundreds of soldiers. A battalion of bearded Sessites crowded the narrow road to the left, while a more regimented troop of clean-shaven British waited for orders on the right. Beside me, Alisander sobbed at the sight of the Sessites. I placed my hand on his shoulder, while Aglinda hugged him to her on the other side. The girl was full of courage, and stared at each of the six riders in turn, though none of them paid her any attention. Sir Tristan's eyes moved between Melwas, Iseult and Bellina. The foul, dirty man licked his lips at the sight of the three girls. King Arthur giggled to himself, amused by the poor, unarmed army King Mark had sent to meet him. Sir Gareth curled a white-gloved finger at his brother, inviting Agravaine to cross over to him and Gawain.

It was Bellina who broke the silence. 'Elia,' she said, looking straight at her father, 'would you like to re-enter my service?' It was a generous offer, and one I was surprised she made; Bellina had never much cared for having Elia as part of her entourage of servants.

'No, Damosel B,' said the bard, not looking at her former mistress. 'Thanks, but no.'

Without a glance at the rest of us, Bellina ran towards her father. Sir Breuse nodded at her, unsmiling. He helped his daughter climb up in front of him on his horse. With a last glance at the rest of us beneath the gates, he pulled on his reins and set their mount to walking. The British soldiers parted to allow Sir Breuse and his daughter through. Bellina never looked back.

'There's a surprise,' said Piers with a sigh.

Still amused by the sight before him, King Arthur dismounted and came towards us. He looked up to the top of the wall and smiled witheringly. I followed his gaze and saw King Mark on the battlements, observing the scene below. The three remaining knights of the round table followed their king's lead; they dismounted and lined up behind Arthur.

The king of the Britons stopped ten paces from us. Arthur looked from face to face, his tired eyes expressing immense pleasure at our predicament. He reached down to his belt, and drew Excalibur with a flourish. The fighters amongst us tensed, but the king did not attack. I felt the wash of familiar magics from the blade. Up close it seemed not to glow, but rather to reflect green light, though there was no light source to give the shining blade that colour.

He held up his sword and drew it along the line, pointing at each of us in turn. The blade shook slightly in his hand, as if it was too heavy for his thin wrist. The point came to rest on Palomides, who was furthest down the line from me.

'Sir Palomides,' said Arthur in his thin, grating voice. 'You have made your decision? You are too clever a man to die here. Why suffer for a cause not your own? Go, good Saracen; leave these shores and multiply your father's riches elsewhere.'

Palomides stepped away from the wall.

''Mides!' cried the anguished Piers. 'What about those who drowned with us, man? What of Epicene? Where's your loyalty?'

'This is not my fight, and not yours either, my love,' said Palomides. 'This is a battle for lords and kings, not traders and peasants. Come with me, please. The lands I could show you, the plants and the flowers. There are things you could not dream of in this world that I will show you. It is not worth us throwing away our lives here.'

The silence hung in the air between them for long moments.

'You devil!' bellowed Piers finally, tears streaming down his cheeks. 'I always said you were a devil! Plague and famine on you and yours!'

A chill ran through me. There was our Saracen Aeneas sailing away. Before the gates our peasant Dido burned on his pyre, offering curses.

Arthur strode along the line and shoved the point of Excalibur under Piers' chin. 'This one dies long and slow, Sir Tristan.'

'Yes, my king,' said the Cornish knight.

'Gaul,' said Arthur, turning to Melwas. 'My, you are a pretty one, aren't you? Would you like to stay with me, my lovely? I could make you most rich. No? Then go, and give my compliments to Sir Meliagraunce your father. Remind him to put you to your sewing in future, as is proper.'

Melwas swept her hair back, and stared defiantly at the king.

She stepped forward.

Alisander gasped in shock; his gasp transformed into a moan before it faded to nothing.

'I would see Camelot before returning to Gaul if I may, your grace,' said Melwas.

Arthur was surprised. 'I think she likes me, Tristan,' he said as Melwas walked past him. Melwas stood several paces behind Palomides, her head bowed, her face hidden from us by her long red hair. Mordred remained silent, not reacting at all to Melwas' betrayal.

The king strolled along the line once more, his eyes fixed on Agravaine. The Prince of Orkney quivered as Arthur approached. 'I'm sorry,' Agravaine whimpered, and burst away from us. He swiped at his brothers as they tried to greet him. We watched as Gawain and Gareth led their horses through the British soldiers, Agravaine following behind.

'Godspeed, brother,' Mordred called after him, though Agravaine did not know that they truly were related by blood. 'Avenge her well.'

'The rest of you,' said Arthur, 'well, I'm afraid I have no more offers to make.'

'Arthur.' Merlin came forward and whispered in his ear.

As the wizard spoke Arthur's eyes fell on me. He frowned. 'Really?' said the king. 'That thing?'

Merlin nodded and stepped back, his oily eyes never leaving me.

'You: boy of the Lake,' snapped Arthur. 'Step out of line. Your mother lady Nemue has always been a good friend to me. You live.'

I shook my head. I couldn't desert my friends, not after everything they had done for me. I remembered Avalon, how Palomina's arrival had saved me from stealing power over the world at the expense of my soul. I thought of how they accepted me, when even my own family did not. Lord Jesus help me, I even thought of Bellina, and everything she had taught me about what it was not to love. If I had struggled to be loyal before, now was the time to prove how much I would sacrifice for them. I would not be the judas of this tale.

I looked down the line. At Alisander and Aglinda; at Elia and Queen Melody; at Piers and Iseult and Mordred.

I remembered Mordred's eyes, when he told us that we must take any chance we were offered. There had been meaning in that look.

I felt sick. Water dripped from my fingers, splashing the stones like hard rain.

I stepped forward.

'I knew you weren't the real Drift,' hissed Aglinda. I looked over my deformed shoulder and saw anger and hurt and hatred in the girl's face. 'I said it from the start.'

'Come here, young man,' said Merlin. I did as he said. I went and stood by Merlin's side. 'Never fear, Lord of the Lake,' he said quietly. 'Once I've got my beautiful spear back I'll give you a nice quiet life, just like your mother. You'll not feel a thing after that.'

'So where was I?' said Arthur, still parading in front of the seven left before the gates of Tintagel. They were tiny before the huge walls. Cornish soldiers lined the high battlements, their king at the centre, flanked by Sir Amant and Sir Bersulus. Mark and Amant looked down impassively, but there was great torment on Bersulus' face.

'Arthur,' said Merlin in a chiding, parental tone.

'That's it, that's what I had to say!' cried Arthur gleefully. 'I have no offers for you May-children.' He turned smartly, and strode back to Sir Tristan, sheathing Excalibur as he came. 'Except one,' he said suddenly, spinning on his heel. There was a delighted, idiotic smile on his face; he had enjoyed his theatrical flourish. 'I propose a trial by combat, Mark! By a drawing of the lots. A champion of the May-children, versus one of these two champions of mine.' He clasped Sir Tristan's shoulder. The huge Sessite general dropped the flag of truce to the ground, and dismounted from his horse. It was only then that I recognised the man: he had changed much in the intervening years — acquired a thick beard and much muscle — but he was the same raider who had thrown Alisander's father from the cliffs, and left him a bloody pulp those several years before.