Queen Melody’s secret passageway wound around and down to the tower staircase through a confusing series of doors. As we emerged from a storage room filled with brooms and brushes we nearly collided with Mordred and the stunningly beautiful young woman he was leading by the hand. I had seen Iseult before in Mordred’s memory, but she was even lovelier in person. Her long, wavy black hair, pure white skin and naturally red lips were all as they had been – the years of her imprisonment had, perversely, improved her looks. No wonder the Gauls called her La Belle Iseult, I thought. She was breathtaking.

Queen Melody grasped Iseult’s free hand. ‘My dear girl,’ she said gently.

Iseult gave a small curtsy. ‘My queen,’ she said in a small, timid voice. I felt immediate sympathy with her: I knew what it was like to spend years almost alone, and then be suddenly confronted with many strangers.

‘We saw the riders,’ said Mordred. ‘They’ve come to treat with King Mark?’

‘Nah, lad,’ said Piers. ‘With Palomides and Agravaine and God-damned Bellina Saunce Pité.’

‘You what?’

‘Don’t ask me,’ said Piers.

‘Farmer,’ snapped Queen Melody.

Piers turned to face her.

‘To the cellars immediately,’ said the queen. ‘Prepare your escape.’

Piers nodded, and bundled himself down the stairs.

Iseult stared at the hand of Mordred’s that held hers. She was in a dream, and not, by the looks of it, a wholly pleasant one. ‘What is happening, Mordred?’ she said. ‘Where is Siobahn?’ She spoke of her lover, Siobahn of Braghán.

‘Follow Piers,’ Mordred told his sister. ‘He will get you back to Erin, back to mother and father and Siobahn.’

‘I don’t want to leave you, brother.’

Mordred turned to Melwas behind him. ‘Please, my love,’ he said. ‘You know I have to stay, but please take my sister home.’

Melwas shook her head, resolve on her face. ‘No, Mordred. I will die by your side if I have to.’

‘Melwas, please.’ Even though they were not related by blood, Mordred’s face resembled that of his foster-father after he had been maddened into king Anguish. ‘You know what I am. You most of all. I’m a cursed creature, my love; I’m not worthy of you. I’ll only lead you to your death.’

I felt a terrible emptiness in myself. Now I understood that he had not been in denial about Neave’s words on Orkney. He had been trying to protect those of us who knew from the depths of his feelings. How right Queen Morgawse had been to keep from him from the terrible knowledge about himself.

Tears brimmed in Melwas’ eyes. Her head shook.

‘Take Iseult, please.’

Finally Melwas stepped forward. She took Mordred’s head in her hand and pulled his face to hers.

‘Sod this,’ said Agravaine, though whether that was in response to the situation we found ourselves in, or the kiss between Melwas and Mordred I am not sure. The son of Orkney pounded down the stairs.

‘Stop, Prince Agravaine,’ called the queen. She pointed through a doorway onto the lowest balcony of the tower, where Bellina stood under the blue sky with her back to us, listening to the words from below.

Mordred pushed Melwas away from him, and gave her Iseult’s hand. ‘Go,’ he said.

Melwas hardened her expression, and hauled the resisting Iseult after her.

‘Mordred!’ cried Iseult. ‘Don’t make me go! Brother!’ They disappeared round the corner and we heard no more.

‘Right, then,’ said Agravaine. He came back up the stairs and walked past us to join Bellina at the stone rail. The rest of us hung back in the shadows of the stairs.

‘Daughter,’ called Sir Breuse from below, ‘your long ordeal is over. You are the rebels’ hostage no more. Ask King Mark to open the gates and allow you out. We stand here under a flag of truce. The just King of Cornwall knows the value of a truce; none will be harmed while the king stands here.’

Bellina nodded her head. ‘Yes, Father.’

‘Agravaine,’ cried another voice, Sir Gawain’s. ‘The king has given Gareth and me his permission to revenge ourselves on Sir Lamorak. The King of the Britons offers you amnesty if you join our quest. Your crimes will be forgiven. Come out by the Damosel Saunce Pité’s side, vow to play no further part in this disagreement, and you will not be harmed.’

‘Come with us, brother,’ shouted Sir Gareth.

Agravaine hunched over the rail. His back shook

‘’Tis true,’ said another voice, thin and reedy. King Arthur’s voice. ‘So I have said and so it is, Prince Agravaine of Orkney. Whatever treasonous loyalty you have pledged to these rebels is surely trumped by that you owe your blood.’ A sob appeared in the king’s voice, though I did not believe in it. ‘Our blood, Prince Agravaine. Morgawse was my own sister, my nephew, as she was your mother. I would not have her murderer alive in my lands, even though he be ordained a knight of my table round. As you are of my blood, your little indiscretion will be forgotten.’

‘What of the others?’ replied Agravaine. ‘What of my friends?’

No answer came from below.

Agravaine turned back to look at us. There were tears in his eyes.

‘Lastly,’ King Arthur went one, ‘I reiterate my offer to Sir Palomides. Can you hear my voice, my good knight? If any of the May-children from beyond the bounds of my lands desire to go in peace, they may do so. They may do so on the condition they never again step foot on British sand, soil, stone, grass or...’

Elia giggled bleakly to herself. ‘He’s set himself a bit of a challenge here... or plank of wood, or brick, or –’

– ‘Or any part of my land whatsoever – or its skies – they may live in peace in any country they choose to settle, forever untroubled by the laws of this land; a law more fair, gentle and just than their own.’

I felt an ache deep within me. That Palomina should be so true and I so false... to refuse that offer. The thought lashed my soul. I looked to the blue sky and prayed to the Lord Jesus for forgiveness.

‘We remain under this flag of truce one hour,’ cried Arthur. ‘After that hour, all offers and pardons are void, and none of you will be shown mercy. So your king has decreed.’

‘So our king has decreed!’ echoed the other men. The call was matched in fits and starts down in the camp, though the men there could not have heard what had been said.

Agravaine and Bellina came back into the tower. Bellina was trying to suppress a smile of delighted relief, but Agravaine was white-faced and shaking. I found I couldn’t meet his eye.

‘Do you want to go with them, Agravaine?’ said Mordred.

I sneaked a look at the Prince of Orkney. His cheek pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Finally he shook his head, though there was uncertainty in his gesture.

‘Well I am going to join my father,’ said Bellina. ‘Queen Melody, if you would have the gates opened for me?’

The old queen regarded with Bellina with distaste. ‘Of course, my dear.’ Her voice was tinted with the same tone she’d used to speak of Sir Tristan.

* * *

Sir Bersulus and Sir Amant were waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. Their swords were drawn, Amant’s with more enthusiasm than the older man’s. Behind them were one hundred unshaven and starving soldiers. They had caught all the others who had preceded us down the stairs, and were waiting for us to come down.Melwas, her face bloodied and bruised from fighting the men, was restrained at the points of four spears. Piers was holding Iseult, determinedly not looking at the Palomides, who the soldiers had with his arm twisted behind his back.

‘My queen,’ said Sir Bersulus sadly. ‘The king orders you and our guests to attend him.’

‘Of course, Sir Bersulus. I beg a moment to show Damosel Saunce Pité to the gate.’

Amant shook his head. ‘Come to our king now, you witch.’

Petal launched herself from the stairs at Amant’s face. ‘Take that back, you bastard!’ she snarled. The soldiers gathered around us laughed at her anger. Amant batted the serving-girl away, crunching the pommel of his sword into her face. She went down hard on the stone floor.

‘There was no need for that, lad,’ said Piers, his temper breaking. ‘That was unknightly of you.’

But before Piers could get to the red-headed knight, the point of Amant’s sword was at his throat. ‘And what would you know about knighthood, peasant?’

‘It’s alright, Piers, it’s alright,’ said Petal, pushing herself to her feet. She rubbed her face. ‘The nasty little prick couldn’t hurt me if he tried.’

Piers laughed in Amant’s face as Iseult pulled him away from the sword.

There was the slightest glimmer of amusement at the edge of Queen Melody’s mouth. She nodded at Petal, acknowledging the girl’s good service. ‘Very well. Take us to my husband, good Sir Bersulus.’

‘Madam,’ he nodded. ‘We’re – that is – we’re to take you to the gates.’ He glared at Sir Amant, and then politely stepped back to allow his queen past.

The soldiers formed a hollow square around us, releasing Palomides and Melwas from their restraints. The Saracen went towards Piers, but the farmer shrugged him away. Sir Amant gave the order, and they marched us through the huge great hall, where the starving peasants were barely disturbed from their weak slumbers by the stamp of marching boots. The queen went regally, her head upright and proud.

We passed through the great hall and into the open air. As we approached the black gates of Tintagel the guards fanned out to reveal King Mark, tiny and alone before the two enormous doors. The soldiers formed three sides of a box against the gates, and pushed us towards their king at the points of their spears.

I staggered as the world warped more madly around me. The walls and the soldiers broke and shattered, they appeared at strange angles. The gates seemed to bubble as if they were liquid. The magical grittiness beneath the skin of the land became painful, sticking sharply into me where before it had been only a constant irritation.

Agravaine, who could not see any of this, caught my arm before I fell. ‘Never fear, pal. There’ll be a way out.’

‘M-M-M-Merlin’s outside the g-g-g-gates. We’re almost at the centre of his power.’

‘We’d better stay indoors today, then.’

‘Wife!’ shouted King Mark. He came slowly towards us. I’m not sure if it was Merlin’s aura shaping the sound, but it seemed as if the whole world had fallen silent apart from Mark’s boots crunching in the sawdust and sand and the snorting, bull-like rage of his breath.

‘Yes, dear husband.’ said Queen Melody, her emotionless face opposed to King Mark’s twisted anger. The king stood too close, trying to intimidate her. He was a full foot shorter than his wife. She was unmoved by his temper; I suppose she had seen him like this many times before.

‘You...’ The king’s voice trailed off. He swiped his fist in the air beside her head, but did not strike his queen. ‘You...’ He pointed a thick, stubby finger at Iseult.

‘Aye, husband, I have delivered Princess Iseult to her foster-brother.’

The king turned from his wife, and released his frustration in a frantic windmill of kicks and punches at thin air. He bent double, scuffing up a cloud of sand. When he pulled himself back to his full height his bald head was covered in beads of sweat. He pushed Melody to one side and stared at Mordred and Iseult.

‘You would destroy me,’ he said. ‘Destroy my kingdom... These children steal into my castle, they eat my food, test my resolve. They insult me. They break my law. Am I not a good king? Have I not been just?’

‘Mark,’ said Melody. She touched his arm tenderly. He tore himself away from her.

‘You support them against me, wife? This one –’ he lashed a finger at Elia – ‘this one who sings songs that mockmy dignity? Oh yes, you nasty little satirist, I have ears everywhere in Tintagel.’

Elia turned to Sir Amant. ‘Cheers, chum,’ she said, her voice quite resigned. Amant stared straight ahead, ignoring her.

‘And this one,’ he approached Mordred, shaking with rage. ‘This one believes his need more important than my holy vow? First my son brings his accomplice the Moor for our hostage, then this foundling steals into Tintagel for blood not his own?’ The king’s hand went to his sword. ‘I should share your blood with the sand, you two dogs of Erin.’

Mordred pushed the king away from Iseult, hard in his chest. Mark staggered back. The soldiers surrounding us went for their weapons, all but Sir Bersulus, who had bowed his head so as not to see his king in the grip of this terrible madness.

‘Hold!’ called the king to his men. He was shaking, breathing hard, but when he spoke again he was almost calm. ‘And now, Melody, I learn that you are conspiring with these, these –’ he couldn’t find words for us. ‘Conspiring with them to flee Tintagel.’ He bowed his head. ‘Oh wife, you are no wife at all. Why, why did I not listen to my son all those years ago? You are foul, Melody. Foul. You did it, did you not? It is as Tristan said: you poisoned him. You tried to kill my son. And I banished him.’ He wiped tears from his eyes. ‘Out of my blind love for you. My only son.’

Queen Melody closed her eyes a moment. ‘I did.’

The soldiers groaned.

‘Mark – husband – I poisoned that evil boy.’ She took his hand, stroking it as she spoke. ‘My love, he killed our daughter. Our daughter. He was of age, a man of fifteen winters, and she a babe in swaddling clothes.’

The king tore his hand away from her. ‘Liar!’ he screamed.

‘I found him, Mark. A knight of fifteen holding a pillow over our month-old daughter’s face.’

‘Gods,’ said Elia quietly. ‘Well there’s a new verse for Sir Dinadan’s song.’

The queen reached out to embrace her husband, but he stepped away.

‘You are no Queen of Cornwall, Melody. You never were.’ He looked at us. ‘And you. As you are so keen to abandon Tintagel I give you leave to go. Sir Amant, Sir Bersulus, open the gates and put them all out, this old witch with them.’ With that he turned his back and walked away. The soldiers parted to let him through.

‘Mark!’ shouted Melody. ‘Mark!’

The king stopped in his tracks.

‘Not the girl, my king. Not the maid.’

Petal ran to her queen. ‘No, my lady. Let me come with you.’

Melody ignored Petal’s pleading. ‘The girl is a loyal Cornishwoman. What she has done was always under my direction, and thus was enacted out of the love and obedience she owes to you. Do not punish her on my account. That would not be just of you.’

The king did not turn; but he did nod.

‘No, my lady, no,’ begged Petal. ‘Don’t make me leave you again. Please.’

Melody leant down to the girl, and caressed her face tenderly. She brushed Petal’s curls from her face. ‘You are a good girl,’ the queen said softly. ‘Amant,’ she said in a tone of command, ‘take her away.’

The red-headed knight advanced, and grabbed Petal by the wrist. He dragged the weeping, pleading girl away through the line of soldiers. Moments later he reappeared, and strode towards the gate.

‘Sir Bersulus,’ said Melody. The older knight had not moved as the king had ordered. ‘Sir Bersulus, obey your king.’

The knight stood to attention, meeting his queen’s gaze. There was an awful sadness in him. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘aye, my good lady.’ He turned on his heels and marched towards the gate.

The soldiers advanced, pushing us forward. We were jostled together as they squeezed us towards the gates.

‘Save yourselves,’ said Mordred, as the black doors loomed larger. ‘Any of you who can, save yourselves.’ He pulled Melwas back to him. He looked deeply into her green eyes, and kissed her on the lips. ‘Save yourself, my love.’

‘No, Mordred,’ she said. ‘I stay by your side always.’

‘Aye, we all stand by you,’ said Piers, glancing at Palomides. The Saracen stared ahead, not meeting the farmer’s eye.

‘You mustn’t,’ said Mordred, ‘not if you’re given a chance.’ I felt his hand on my shoulder. His black eyes tried to tell me something he could not say in words.

‘N-N-N-No,’ I said, my heart hammering at my ribs. ‘I-I-I-I won’t.’

‘We’re beside you, Mordred,’ said Aglinda.

‘We are,’ said Alisander, grasping his friend’s hand.

‘Do you mind if I write a song about that, my lady?’ said Elia. ‘Sir Tristan’s poisoning – the true story.’

‘Gods and monsters,’ said Bellina, shaking her head at the bard’s obsession. Even in these moments before we were likely to die Elia harped on her music.

Queen Melody actually laughed; she was delighted by the idea. ‘Not at all, girl. Please do.’

‘just one question: did you kill Mark’s first wife too?’

‘No, my dear. The pox took her.’

There was a series of clanks as Sir Amant and Sir Bersulus drew back the two massive bars across the gates. Then, slowly, slowly the huge black doors opened to reveal the six horsemen before the gate. Beside them stood Merlin. The empty eyes of his ram’s skull staff seemed to follow us as the soldiers pushed us through the gates at the ends of their spears.