When I had finished telling her the truth Palomina left the room without speaking. We all gathered in the main room of the apartments, where Neave said a crisp farewell to us, and Brunor also took his leave. He did not say where was going, but I assumed the boy in the ill-fitting coat would be joining the absent Mordred on the journey to Andalus and Castillo Orgulloso. I had thought someone would suggest that the younger ones should stay behind on Orkney, but though he was green-faced at the thought of going to sea once more, Alisander was coming with us, dragged along, possibly quite forcefully, by Aglinda.

Shortly before dawn Gaheris entered to wish his brother good luck. Although he had been anxious to help win vengeance for his mother, the one-handed Prince of Orkney had been ordered to remain behind as his father’s regent. The two gave each other a white-faced embrace, neither lad yet quite comprehending that their mother was truly gone.

‘Kill them all, Aggers,’ said Gaheris, thumping his brother on the shoulder with his hook. ‘Kill them all.’

‘I will,’ said Agravaine. ‘And if I see Gawain and Gareth you can bet I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.’

‘Aye,’ said Gaheris. ‘Make sure you bring our brothers back here; I’d like to do the same.’ They clasped each other once more, and Gaheris told us that our ferry was loaded and ready to row us out to Palomina’s ship.

‘It is my brother Sagwarides’ ship,’ said Palomina quietly, ‘though I am its captain.’

‘How long will it be?’ said Alisander.

‘Seven days, if this weather holds,’ said Palomina.

* * *

But the weather did not hold. King Lot made the decision to sail his fleet of one-hundred-and-five ships down the east coast of Britain, past the kingdoms of Northumbria and Gore, and then through the narrow channel that separates Britain from Gaul. His argument was that being largely enclosed by land on both sides and containing fewer islands, the journey down the east coast was less risky than that down the west, where the fleet would have to navigate both the islands of Caledonia and the wild seas around Erin. I do not know if the journey would have been any more pleasant down the west coast, but the one we took was bad. Not as bad as the storm that wrecked us on Avalon, but bad enough. It began on the second day, when the rain began to lash down and the winds turned against us. Though some ships in the fleet were nimble enough to tack into the wind, others were old and cumbersome, and by the third day the fleet had become so scattered that King Lot’s flagship ordered the leading ships to drop anchor and wait for the others to catch up.

The atmosphere on Sagwarides’ ship was not helped by us being thrown together at such close quarters. Sagwarides himself was a huge, hulking presence with a very severe face, more severe even than Safeer. I got the impression that he was very protective of his younger sister, and that he did not much care for me, so I mostly kept to our cabin studying Epicene’s papers, even on the rare occasions we were allowed out on deck.

I was frustrated in my studies by the difficulties of the languages in which the texts were written, though within the Egyptian scroll, which was surprisingly easy to translate, I found a little more about the nature of the Fiery Mountain, and its relationship to sources of world magic like the Cave of the Dragon. They were, in a very real sense, the same place, though scattered all over the earth. They each released the same pure magic, which, after the disappearance of the old gods, was the world’s only source of magic. The different kinds of magic only arose when that pure magic was breathed in or otherwise absorbed by a living creature – the scroll did not specify that the creature had to be human. This was all very interesting, and I enjoyed the achievement of arriving at these conclusions, but the insights seemed of little practical value.

Alisander was frequently seasick, and tended to most by John of the Marsh. Melwas kept to herself, and along with Elia was most frequently absent from the cabin when we were allowed out. Bellina was generally by Agravaine’s side. Palomina was rarely with us, she had business to attend to on deck, but when she did enter, she often saw Bellina by my side, though the girl had only settled by me moments before. I knew Bellina too well to think that this was not deliberate. I had seen in her memories how she delighted in provoking other girls to jealousy; she found that game as entertaining as the one where she hid insults within compliments, and waited to see how long her victims took to work out that a slur was contained in kindly words.

The wind dropped once more on the fourth day, and the almost-whole fleet found itself becalmed off the coast of Northumbria, near the island of Fulfarne. As the sailors had little to do when the weather was like this, Palomina allowed us to take the air on deck, and it was then I found myself standing alone next to John of the Marsh, looking at lumpen Castle Fulfarne in the distance.

‘You alright, lad?’ said the big grey-haired man, fingering the hilt of his jewelled sword, which was much too rich for a peasant to own. I wondered if he was of a noble family who had fallen from riches, but did not ask.

‘I-I-I-I-I-I am, John.’

He let out a long sigh. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘B-B-B-B-Bleak, I’d say.’

He smiled wisely. ‘Perhaps you’re right, young Lord of the Lake.’

We stood in silence for some time, the ship rising and falling very gently. I looked up at him.

‘Y-Y-Y-Y-You asked m-me about M-M-M-M-Margaret, when w-we first m-met.’

‘I did.’ He did not look at me, but continued staring out to sea.

‘W-W-W-W-Would you l-like me to t-tell you now?’

Still he did not look down. ‘I would.’

And so I told him of his daughter. I began with how I had arrived at Caerleon, and of the coldness of that night in the hold of King Arthur’s ship. I told him how Margaret had offered to share her blanket with me. ‘W-W-W-W-We were all scared, b-b-b-b-b-but when the t-t-time came she w-was ready. She saved Aglinda’s life.’ I didn’t tell him about the last I had seen of her, the real Margaret, when she disappeared down down into the cold blackness. ‘She w-w-w-was pure and s-sweet, and though I only knew her f-for a short t-time, she was a f-fine friend. I-I-I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for h-h-h-h-her.’

He wiped a tear from his eye. ‘Aye, that was my Margaret alright,’ he said. Finally he looked at me. ‘Thank you, Drift. I’m glad she wasn’t alone.’ He patted me on my hunched shoulder and turned back to the waters. ‘There’s something I don’t understand. Aglinda says – she’s quite confused, mind – but she says Margaret came back for a time. That you spent time with her after the wreck.’

His voice was so full of hope that I didn’t want to tell him the truth, but I knew I had to.

‘That w-w-w-w-w-wasn’t her, John. It was M-M-M-Merlin using M-M-M-Margaret’s form to trick m-m-m-m-me.’

The man from the marshes took a long, shuddering breath, and said nothing. I touched his hand and walked away from him, feeling guilty that I had talked as much about myself as his daughter. We find our own faults when we describe the strengths of others.

Before I could reach the cabin John spoke again: ‘Drift.’ I turned, and saw he was facing me with a look of cold fury on his face. ‘I’m going to kill him for that, if I get the chance.’

I nodded, and feeling that I didn’t want to speak to the others at that moment, avoided the cabin and went below decks. Palomina’s men were lying bored in their quarters as I squeezed between their hammocks: some were playing games of dice, others talking in a bored version of their own language. None of them paid me any heed as I walked towards the mess, where the ship’s cook was stirring two bubbling pots, one of spiced meats, the other of a plain-tasting grain they called rice. The cook gave me an unfriendly look as I went through his kitchen, but I had heard something beyond the mess that intrigued me. I came to a hatch that led down to the hold, and put my ear to it. I was right: Elia was playing her harp down there.

The bard had disappeared for long stretches during the journey, and I had assumed that Palomina was using her to listen to messages shouted from the flagship, which was a much quicker way of receiving orders than the laborious process of signaling with flags. The bard was not usually shy about singing a song, so it was unusual to find her practising in private. I had never known her to do so, apart from those long weeks on Avalon when she had attempted to teach herself the trumpet. Though, I reflected, those practices had not been as private as she’d intended: the infernal racket of that blaring instrument had made Castle Eudaimon a much less pleasant place than Lady Bertilak intended. I pulled open the hatch and the music of her harp stopped immediately.

I went down the steps to the hold, bringing the hatch down above me. Lovely smells of herbs and meats met my nose – this was clearly the cook’s store. As I descended I saw candles burning in the corner. Elia, her back to me, was craning her neck to see who was coming. Beyond her, chained to an iron ring, was Sir Dinadan.

‘Welcome, Lord of the Lake!’ cried the fat knight when he saw me. ‘You look more bent than last I saw you; voyage ain’t been that bad, has it?’

‘Wotcher, Drift,’ said Elia. ‘Dinadan’s just teaching me a song.’

‘One of my own composition,’ said Dinadan with pride.

‘Aye, it’s not bad,’ said Elia. ‘Want to have a hear?’

I pulled an empty crate up behind Elia and sat down, keeping a close eye on the knight.

‘Where were we?’ said Elia.

‘Do you know I can’t remember,’ said Sir Dinadan. ‘Let’s sing it from the beginning, my dear, for the lord of the lake’s amusement.’

The song was a quick and jaunty one, though as it went on its content made me nervous:

There was a king of Cornwall ey-o

With wife so fair that he thought ey-o

‘As this’s the life that’s decreed for me

‘I ne’er’ll require more beauty’

With an M and an A and an R and a K-o

That’s good King Mark of Tintagel-o

He got on wife a goodly son-o

Of the name of Tristan ey-o

But who should come then ‘pon the scene

But an evil wench named Melody

With an M and an A and an R and a K-o

That’s bad for Mark of Tintagel-o

The first fair wife she swooned so ey-o

So to Mark comes his dear son-o

‘Father Mark oh will you hear

‘That Melody is a poisoneer?’

With an M and an A and an R and a K-o

What nasty times at Tintagel-o

That first wife soon goes oh-no ey-o

Mark’s end is loose, so oh-no ey-o

He scoops another to be his queen

Goes by the name of Melody

With an M and an A and an R and a K-o

That saucy Mark of Tintagel-o

At this point the volume of their singing dropped. Gradually, over the course of the next verse, they rose again to a crescendo. 

Tristan comes to see the King-o

‘Evil’s here, oh can’t you see-o’

But when he falls so very sick-o

Mark can’t see the hand of queen-o

From his bed that good son calls-o

‘She’s murdered me, oh father dear-o’

And so he sneaks, this weakened son-o

To the cliffs of Cornwall ey-o

‘While Melody she doth live here

You’ll ne’er again see me come near!’

With an M and an A and an R and a K-o

Ta’ra son of TintagHell-o

That foolish king rages so ey-o

’Gainst his son, against his say-so

While Mark lives with that damned queen

His lady’s crimes go all unseen

With an M and an A and an R and a K-o

Poor King Mark of TintagHell-o

Poor King Mark of TintagHell-o

Poor King Maaaaaaaaaaaaark of TintagHell-o

Elia laughed when they were done, and turned to me. ‘Good, isn’t it?’

I could see why the bard liked it – she had a taste for the gruesome – but I thought it a dangerous song. ‘B-B-B-B-But it’s not t-t-t-true.’

She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t have to be true. Songs have their own special sort of truth.’

‘B-B-B-B-B-Besides,’ said Dinadan, mocking my stutter, ‘they do say that Queen Melody poisoned Mark’s first wife, and tried to do away with my friend Sir Tristan too, back when he was a lad.’

‘S-S-S-S-S-So they say. B-B-But I know for a f-f-fact that T-T-Tristan still g-g-goes to T-T-T-T-Tintagel.’

Dinadan raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Do you now, L-L-L-L-L-Lord of the Lake?’

‘Aye,’ said Elia. ‘After Merlin captured him, Tristan took Brunor to –’

I raised my hand to stop her. ‘Hush, Elia. Sir D-D-D-D-D-Dinadan d-doesn’t need to know that.’

The little bard huffed. She never liked to be told what she could and could not say – or sing, for that matter. I stood, and touched her arm to indicate that she should follow me.

‘Oh dear, I think you’re getting a telling off from the Lord of the L-L-Lake, m-m-m-my dear,’ laughed Dinadan. ‘Better hurry along.’ His face beamed in the weak light.

‘B-B-B-B-Be careful what you say to h-him,’ I said, when the hatch was shut behind us.

‘Of course Drift, I’m not an idiot,’ Elia said briskly. I had offended her.

‘W-W-W-W-What’s he d-doing here, anyway?’

She tapped her nose, as if it was her secret to keep, but then thought better of it. ‘He was always our hostage, ever since you caught him,’ she said. ‘Palomina hopes Arthur will exchange Dinadan for her brother.’