They had been right about the bridge, but on spotting the soldiers there, had decided to rest amidst the pine trees until the men had gone. For at first the soldiers had not appeared to be stationed there, but merely refreshing themselves and their horses at the waterfall. But time had passed and the soldiers had shown no signs of moving on. They would take turns getting onto their bellies, reaching down from the bridge and splashing themselves; or sit with their backs against the timber rails, playing dice. Then a fourth man had arrived on horseback, bringing the men to their feet, and had issued instructions to them.

After a punishing climb for much of the morning, the party had found its way obstructed by a fast-flowing river. So they had made a partial descent through shrouded woodlands in search of the main mountain road, along which, they reasoned, there would surely be a bridge across the water.

Though they did not have as good a view as Edwin's high in his tree, Axl, Beatrice and the warrior had observed well enough all that had passed from behind their cover of greenery, and once the horseman had ridden off again, exchanged questioning looks.

"It's desirable we do so by nightfall, sir," said Axl. "We hear the she-dragon Querig roams that country, and only fools would be abroad there in the dark. What manner of soldiers do you suppose them to be?"

"They may remain a long time yet," Wistan said. "And you're both anxious to reach the monastery."

"I'm sure that's so," the warrior said, then fell silent for a moment, gazing down at the bridge. The soldiers had seated themselves again and seemed to be resuming their game. "Even so," he went on, "if we're to cross the bridge under their gazes, let me propose this much. Master Axl, you and Mistress Beatrice will lead the way and talk wisely to the men. The boy can bring the mare behind you, and I'll walk beside him, my jaw slack like a fool's, my eyes wandering loosely. You must tell the soldiers I'm a mute and a half-wit, and the boy and I are brothers lent you in place of debts owed you. I'll hide this sword and belt deep in the horse's pack. Should they find it, you must claim it as your own."

"Not easy at this distance, sir, and I've little knowledge of local dress. But I'd suppose them Britons, and ones loyal to Lord Brennus. Perhaps Mistress Beatrice will correct me."

"It's far for my old eyes," Beatrice said, "but I'd suppose you right, Master Wistan. They have the dark uniforms I've often seen on Lord Brennus's men."

"We've nothing to hide from them," Axl said. "If we explain ourselves, they'll let us go by in peace."

They emerged from the woods still some way from the bridge, but the soldiers saw them immediately and rose to their feet.

"No doubt, mistress. But men with arms, far from their commanders, aren't easy to trust. And here I am, a stranger who they may think good sport to mock and challenge. So let's call the boy down off the tree and do as I propose."

"Is such a play really necessary, Master Wistan?" Beatrice asked. "These soldiers may often show coarse manners, but we've met many before without incident."

"Master Wistan," Beatrice said quietly, "I fear this will not go well. There remains something about you that proclaims you a warrior, no matter what foolish look you wear."

"I'm no skilled player, mistress. If you can help improve my disguise, I'd hear it gladly."

"It's your stride, sir," Beatrice said. "You have a warrior's way of walking. Take instead small steps followed by a large one, the way you might stumble any moment."

"That's good advice, thank you, mistress. Now I should say no more, or they may see I'm no mute. Master Axl, talk us wisely past these fellows."

They wore no chainmail or helmets, but their identical dark tunics, with straps crossing from right shoulder to left hip, declared clearly their trade. Their swords were for now sheathed, though two of them were waiting with hands on the hilts. One was small, stocky and muscular; the other, a youth not much older than Edwin, was also short in stature. Both had closely cropped hair. In contrast, the third soldier was tall, with long grey hair, carefully groomed, that touched his shoulders and was held back by a dark string encircling his skull. Not only his appearance, but his manner differed noticeably from that of his companions; for while the latter were standing stiffly to bar the way across the bridge, he had remained several paces behind, leaning languidly against one of the bridge posts, arms folded before him as though listening to a tale beside a night fire.

As they came closer to the bridge, the noise of the water rushing down the rocks and under the feet of the three awaiting soldiers grew more intense, and to Axl had something ominous about it. He led the way, listening to the horse's steps behind him on the mossy ground, and brought them to a halt when they were within hailing distance of the men.

The stocky soldier gave no reply. Uncertainty was crossing his face, and he glared at Axl with a mixture of panic and contempt. He cast a glance back to the young soldier behind him, then finding nothing to enlighten him, returned his gaze to Axl.

The stocky soldier took a step towards them, so it was to him Axl addressed his words. "Good day, sirs. We mean no harm and wish only to proceed in peace."

It occurred to Axl there had been some confusion: that the soldiers had been expecting another party altogether, and had yet to realise their mistake. So he said: "We're just simple farmers, sir, on our way to our son's village."

"Two brothers just come under our care who we must do our best to train. Though as you see, one's still a child, and the other a slow-witted mute, so the relief they bring us may be slender."

The stocky soldier, now collecting himself, replied to Axl in an unnecessarily loud voice. "Who are these you travel with, farmer? Saxons by the look of them."

As Axl said this, the tall grey-haired soldier, as though suddenly reminded of something, took his weight from the bridge post, his head tilting in concentration. Meanwhile, the stocky soldier was staring angrily beyond both Axl and Beatrice. Then, his hand still on the hilt of his sword, he strode past to scrutinise the others. Edwin was holding the mare, and watched the oncoming soldier with expressionless eyes. Wistan, though, was giggling loudly to himself, his eyes roving, mouth wide open.

The stocky soldier looked from one to the other as though for a clue. Then his frustration seemed to get the better of him. Grabbing Wistan's hair, he tugged it in a rage. "No one cut your hair, Saxon?" he shouted into the warrior's ear, then tugged again as though to bring Wistan to his knees. Wistan stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet, letting out pitiful whimpers.

As his wife spoke, a small movement made Axl turn back to the soldiers still on the bridge. He saw then that the tall grey-haired man had raised an arm; his fingers all but formed a pointing shape before softening and collapsing in an aimless gesture. Finally he let his arm fall altogether, though his eyes went on watching with disapproval. Observing this, Axl suddenly had the feeling he understood, even recognised, what the grey-haired soldier had just gone through: an angry reprimand had all but shaped itself on his lips, but he had remembered in time that he lacked any formal authority over his stocky colleague. Axl was sure he had once had an almost identical experience himself somewhere, but he forced away the thought, and said in a conciliatory tone:

"He doesn't speak, sir," Beatrice said. "As you see, he's simple. He doesn't mind rough treatment, but he's known for a temper we've yet to tame."

But the stocky soldier was still tormenting Wistan. "He'd be unwise to lose his temper with me!" he bellowed. "Let him do so and taste his price!"

"You must be busy with your duties, gentlemen, and we're sorry to distract you. If you'd let us pass, we'll soon be out of your way."

Then finally he let go of Wistan and strode back to take up his position again on the bridge. He said nothing, looking like an angry man who had completely forgotten why he was angry.

The noise of the rushing water seemed only to add to the tense mood, and Axl wondered how the soldiers would react were he to turn and lead the party back towards the woods. But just at that moment, the grey-haired soldier came forward until he was level with the other two and spoke for the first time.

"This bridge has a few planks broken, uncle. Maybe that's why we're standing here, to warn good people like yourselves to cross with care or be down the mountainside tumbling with the tide."

"That's kind of you, sir. We'll go then with caution."

"Your horse there, uncle. I thought I saw it limping coming towards us."

"Those boards are rotted with the spray, and that's why we're here, though my comrades think there was some further errand must have brought us. So I'll ask you, uncle, if you and your good wife have seen any strangers on your travels."

"We're strangers here ourselves, sir," Beatrice said, "so wouldn't quickly know another. Though on two days' journey we've seen nothing out of the ordinary."

"She has a hurt foot, sir, but we hope it's no serious thing, though we don't mount her, as you see."

Noticing Beatrice, the grey-haired soldier's eyes seemed to soften and smile. "A long walk for a woman of your years to make to a son's village, mistress. Wouldn't you rather be living there with him where he can see to your comforts each day, instead of having you walk like this, unsheltered from the road's dangers?"

The grey-haired soldier went on regarding her gently. "It may be, mistress," he said, "you've not a thing to worry about. I'm myself far from my mother and father, and not seen them in a long while. Perhaps harsh words were said once, who knows? But if they came to find me tomorrow, having walked hard distances as you're doing now, do you doubt I'd receive them with my heart breaking with joy? I don't know the kind of man your son is, mistress, but I'd wager he's not so different to me, and there'll be happy tears no sooner than he first sees you."

"I wish it right enough, sir, and when we see him, my husband and I will talk to him of it. But then it's a long time since we saw him and we can't help wonder how he'll receive us."

"You're kind to say so, sir," said Beatrice. "I suppose you're right, and my husband and I have often said as much, but it's a comfort to hear it said, and from a son far from home at that."

"Go on your journey in peace, mistress. And if by chance you come upon my own mother and father on the road, coming the other way, speak gently to them and tell them to press on, for their journey won't be a wasted one." The grey-haired soldier stood aside to let them pass. "And please remember the unsteady boards. Uncle, you'd best lead that mare over yourself. It's no task for children or God's fools."

The stocky soldier, who had been watching with a disgruntled air, seemed nevertheless to yield to the natural authority of his colleague. Turning his back to them all, he leaned sulkily over the rail to look at the water. The young soldier hesitated, then came to stand beside the grey-haired man, and they both nodded politely as Axl, thanking them a last time, led the mare over the bridge, shielding her eyes from the drop.

Once the soldiers and the bridge were no longer in sight, Wistan stopped and suggested they leave the main road to follow a narrow path rising up into the woods.

"I've always had an instinct for my way through a forest," he said. "And I feel sure this path will allow us to cut a large corner. Besides, we'll be much safer away from a road such as this, well travelled by soldiers and bandits."

For a while after that, it was the warrior who led the party, beating back brambles and bushes with a stick he had found. Edwin, holding the mare by her muzzle, often whispering to her, followed closely behind, so that by the time Axl and Beatrice came in their wake, the path had been made much easier. Even so, the short cut -- if short cut it was -- became increasingly arduous: the trees deepened around them, tangled roots and thistles obliging them to attend to each step. As was the custom, they conversed little as they went, but at one point, when Axl and Beatrice had fallen some way behind, Beatrice called back: "Are you still there, Axl?"

"I was just thinking, Axl. Our warrior's not a bad player at that. His disguise might have had me fooled, and never letting up with it, even with that brute tugging his hair."

"He performed it well, right enough."

"They'll be missing us, no doubt, princess. But we're not away long, and the pastor understands our wishing to see our own son."

"I hope that's right, Axl. I wouldn't want them saying we're gone just when they have most need of us."

For a while they continued without talking. Then Beatrice said again: "Are you still there, Axl?"

"Still here, princess." Indeed, Axl was just a few paces behind. "Don't worry, these woods aren't known for special dangers, and a good way from the Great Plain."

"I was thinking, Axl. It'll be a long time we're away from our own village. Don't you think it a wonder they let us go when there's still a lot of planting to do, and fences and gates to be mended? Do you suppose they'll be complaining of our absence when we're needed?"

"There'll always be some to say so, but the better of them will understand our need, and would want the same in our place."

"I was remembering about it, Axl. And I was thinking maybe it's because of our lack of a candle I first took this pain I now have."

"Go carefully through that blackthorn there. It's not a spot to take a fall."

"Do you remember, Axl, there was talk last winter of a sprite seen near our village? We never saw it ourselves, but they said it was one fond of the dark. In all those hours we had of darkness, I'm thinking it might sometimes have been with us without our knowing, in our very chamber, and brought me this trouble."

"I'm thinking it was maybe the darkness did it."

"What's that you're saying, princess? How can that be?"

"It wasn't right of them. To take away our candle."

"Still here, princess."

"I'll be careful, Axl, and you do the same."

"We would have known had it been with us, princess, dark or not. Even in thick blackness, we would have heard it move or give a sigh."

"How can it be the darkness gave you the pain, princess?"

"Who cares about that now, princess? And the summer coming."

"Now I think of it, Axl, I think there were times last winter I woke in the night, you fast asleep beside me, and I was sure it was a strange noise in the room roused me."

"It wasn't that kind of sound, and it was more than once I thought I heard it. And now I'm thinking of it, it was around the same time the pain first came."

"Likely a mouse or some creature, princess."

"Well, if it was the sprite, what of it, princess? Your pain's nothing more than a tiny trouble, the work of a creature more playful than evil, the same way some wicked child once left that rat's head in Mistress Enid's weaving basket just to see her run about in fright."

"You're right what you say there, Axl. More playful than evil. I suppose you're right. Even so, husband…" She fell silent while she negotiated her way between two ancient trunks pressing against each other. Then she said: "Even so, when we go back, I want a candle for our nights. I don't want that sprite or any other bringing us something worse."

"We'll see to it, don't worry, princess. We'll talk to the pastor as soon as we return. But the monks at the monastery will give you wise advice about your pain, and there'll be no lasting mischief done."

It was hard to say if Wistan had been right about his path cutting off a corner, but in any case, shortly after midday, they emerged out of the woods back onto the main road. Here it was wheel-rutted and boggy in parts, but now they could walk more freely, and in time the path grew drier and more level. With a pleasant sun falling through the overhanging branches, they travelled in good spirits.

"I know it, Axl. It's not a thing to worry me greatly."

As the clearing came more into view, they saw it was of a fair size: perhaps once, in more prosperous times, someone had hoped to build a house here with a surrounding orchard. The path leading off from the main road, though overgrown, had been dug with care, ending in a large circular area, open to the sky except for one huge spreading oak at its centre. From where they now stood, they could see a figure seated in the shadows of the tree, his back against the trunk. He was for the moment in profile to them, and appeared to be in armour: two metal legs stuck out stiffly onto the grass in a childlike way. The face itself was obscured by foliage sprouting from the bark, though they could see he wore no helmet. A saddled horse was grazing contentedly nearby.

Then Wistan brought them to a halt again and indicated the ground before them. "There's a solitary rider not far before us," he said. And they did not go much further before they saw ahead of them a clearing to the side of their road, and fresh tracks turning into it. Exchanging glances, they stepped forwards cautiously.

"Answer him, Master Axl," Wistan whispered. "Let's discover what he's about."

"We're simple wayfarers, sir," Axl called back. "We wish only to go by in peace."

"A limping one, sir. Otherwise we are four. My wife and I being elderly Britons, and with us a beardless boy and a half-wit mute lately given us by their Saxon kin."

"Declare who you are!" the man called out from under the tree. "All bandits and thieves I'll rise to meet sword in hand!"

"Shall we go to him, Axl?" Beatrice asked.

"I say we do," Wistan said, before Axl could respond. "He's no danger to us and sounds a man of decent years. All the same, let's perform our drama as before. I'll once more affect a slack jaw and foolish eyes."

"Then come over to me, friends! I have bread here to share, and you must long for rest, as I do for your company."

"But this man is armoured and armed, sir," Beatrice said. "Are you certain your own weapon is ready enough, packed on a horse amidst blankets and honey pots?"

"How many are you? And is that a horse I hear?"

"It's well my sword's hidden from suspicious eyes, mistress. And I'll find it soon enough when I need it. Young Edwin will hold the rein and see the mare doesn't stray too far from me."

They turned into the clearing, and as they approached the oak, Axl saw that indeed, the knight was no threatening figure. He appeared to be very tall, but beneath his armour Axl supposed him thin, if wiry. His armour was frayed and rusted, though no doubt he had done all he could to preserve it. His tunic, once white, showed repeated mending. The face protruding from the armour was kindly and creased; above it, several long strands of snowy hair fluttered from an otherwise bald head. He might have been a sorry sight, fixed to the ground, legs splayed before him, except that the sun falling through the branches above was now dappling him in patterns of light and shade that made him look almost like one enthroned.

"Come forth, friends!" the stranger shouted, not adjusting his rigid posture. "No harm will come to you! I'm a knight and a Briton too. Armed, it's true, but come closer and you'll see I'm just a whiskery old fool. This sword and armour I carry only out of duty to my king, the great and beloved Arthur, now many years in heaven, and it's almost as long surely since I drew in anger. My old battlehorse, Horace, you see him there. He's had to suffer the burden of all this metal. Look at him, his legs bowed, back sunk. Oh, I know how much he suffers each time I mount. But he has a great heart, my Horace, and I know he'd have it no other way. We'll travel like this, in full armour, in the name of our great king, and will do so till neither of us can take another step. Come friends, don't fear me!"

Axl held Beatrice's arm as she lowered herself down onto the gnarled roots of the oak, then he sat down himself between his wife and the old knight. He felt immediately grateful for the mossy bark behind him, the songbirds jostling above, and when the bread was passed, it was soft and fresh. Beatrice leant her head against his shoulder, and her chest rose and fell for a while before she too began to eat with relish.

"Poor Horace missed his breakfast this morning, for we were on rocky ground when we awoke. Then I was so keen to press on all morning, and I admit it, in an ill temper. I wouldn't let him stop. His steps grew slower, but I know his tricks well enough by now, and would have none of it. I know you're not weary! I told him, and gave him a little spur. These tricks he plays on me, friends, I won't stand for them! But slower and slower he goes, and soft-hearted fool I am, even knowing full well he's laughing to himself, I relent and say, very well, Horace, stop and feed yourself. So here you find me, taken for a fool again. Come, join me, friends." He reached forward, his armour complaining, and removed a loaf from a sack in the grass before him. "This is fresh baked, given to me passing a mill not an hour ago. Come, friends, sit beside me and share it."

"You must forgive my not greeting you sooner, sir," she said. "But it's not often we see a knight and I was awe-struck by the thought. I hope you weren't offended."

But Wistan had not sat down. After giggling, and otherwise amply displaying his idiocy to the old knight, he had wandered away to where Edwin was standing in the tall grass, holding his mare. Then Beatrice, finishing her bread, sat forward to address the stranger.

"Our son's village is another day away now we're come by the mountain road, wishing to visit a wise monk at the monastery in these hills."

"Not offended at all, mistress, and glad of your company. Is your journey still a long one?"

The knight had said this glancing towards Wistan, only to find the latter walking towards him, the foolish look vanished from his features.

"Ah, the holy fathers. I'm sure they'll receive you kindly. They were a great help to Horace last spring when he had a poisoned hoof and I feared he wouldn't be spared. And I myself, recovering some years ago from a fall, found much comfort in their balms. But if you seek a cure for your mute, I fear it's only God himself can bring speech to his lips."

"Allow me then to surprise you, sir," he said. "Speech is restored to me."

"Don't blame my friends, sir knight," Wistan said. "They were only doing as I begged them. But now there's no cause to fear you, I would cast off my disguise. Please forgive me."

"Far from home, sir, and these roads should be strange to me. Yet at each turn it's as if another distant memory stirs."

The old knight started, then, armour creaking, twisted round to glare enquiringly at Axl.

"I don't mind, sir," the old knight said, "for it's as well in this world to be cautious. But tell me now what sort you are that I in turn have no cause to fear you."

"It must be so, and I heard I was born not in the fens but in a country further west of here. All the more fortunate then to chance upon you, sir, supposing you might be Sir Gawain, from those same western lands, well known to ride in these parts."

"Ah. Far from home indeed."

"The name is Wistan, sir, from the fenlands in the east, travelling these parts on my king's errand."

"It must be then, sir, you came this way before."

"Ask freely."

"If my hours were my own, I'd ride west this very day and breathe the air of that country. But I'm obliged to complete my errand and hurry back with news of it. Yet it's an honour indeed to meet a knight of the great Arthur, and a nephew at that. Saxon though I am, his name is one I hold in esteem."

"I'm Gawain, right enough, nephew of the great Arthur who once ruled these lands with such wisdom and justice. I was settled many years in the west, but these days Horace and I travel where we may."

"This gentleman now sits beside you, he's the good Master Axl, a farmer from a Christian village two days away. A man of familiar years to yourself. Sir Gawain, I ask you now, turn and look carefully at him. Is his face one you've seen before, though a long time ago?"

"Sir Gawain, with my speech so miraculously restored, I would ask a small question of you."

"I take pleasure in hearing you say so, sir."

"Good heavens, Master Wistan!" Beatrice, who Axl thought had fallen asleep, was leaning forward again. "What is this you ask?"

Wistan, who had been standing over where they were sitting three abreast beneath the great oak, now crouched down onto his heels. Perhaps he had done so to appear less challenging, but to Axl it was almost as if the warrior was wishing to scrutinise their faces more closely.

"Master Wistan," Axl said, "I've seen you look strangely at me from time to time since our first meeting, and waited for some account of it. What is it you believe me to be?"

"I mean no harm, mistress. Sir Gawain being from the west country, I fancy he might have glimpsed your husband in days past. What harm's in it?"

Sir Gawain gave a chuckle, and moved his torso forward. He seemed eager for amusement, as though indeed he had just been invited to participate in a game. But as he gazed into Axl's face, his expression changed to one of surprise -- even of shock. Instinctively, Axl turned away, just as the old knight appeared almost to push himself backwards into the tree trunk.

"Let's for now have Sir Gawain do as I ask," Wistan said, "and it's only a small turn of his head needed. See it as a childish game if you will. I beg you, sir, look at this man beside you and say if you've ever seen him in days past."

"I don't believe this gentleman and I met till today," said Sir Gawain.

"Forgive me, mistress. This country awakens so many memories, though each seems like some restless sparrow I know will flee any moment into the breeze. Your husband's face has all day promised me an important remembrance, and if truth be told, that was a reason for my proposing to travel with you, though I sincerely wish to see you both safely through these wild roads."

"Well, sir?" Wistan asked, watching with interest.

"Are you sure? The years can be a rich disguise."

"But why would you know my husband from the west when he's always lived in country nearby?"

"That's what it must be, friends!" said Sir Gawain. "Horace and I often mistake a face for one from the past. See there, Horace, I say. That's our old friend Tudur before us on the road, and we thought he fell at Mount Badon. Then we ride closer and Horace will give a snort, as if to say, what a fool you are, Gawain, this fellow's young enough to be his grandson, and with not even a passing likeness!"

"Master Wistan," Beatrice interrupted, "what is it you search for in my husband's face? Why ask such a thing of this kind knight, until this moment a stranger to us all?"

"Never mind it, princess. Master Wistan has confused me for someone he once knew."

Indeed, Gawain had slumped forward. He now straightened and breathed a sigh. "Well enough, thank you for asking. Yet Horace and I have gone many nights without a soft bed or decent shelter, and we're both weary. That's all there is to it." He raised his hand and caressed a spot on his forehead, though his real purpose, it occurred to Axl, might have been to obscure his view of the face beside him.

But Wistan, rocking gently on his heels, was gazing steadily at Axl. "I believe it must be one I loved, mistress. For when we met this morning, my heart leapt for joy. And yet before long…" He went on looking at Axl silently, his eyes almost dreamlike. Then his face darkened, and rising to his feet again, the warrior turned away. "I can't answer you, Mistress Beatrice, for I know not myself. I supposed by travelling beside you the memories would awaken, but they've not yet done so. Sir Gawain, are you well?"

"Master Wistan," Beatrice said, "tell me this much. Does my husband remind you of one you loved as a child? Or is it one you dreaded?"

"Best leave it now, princess."

"You may be right, Master Wistan," Axl said. "Yet I saw on the bridge Lord Brennus's guards seemed not to be passing their time idly, but stationed there for a purpose, and if not for the mist clouding their minds, they might have tested you more closely. Can it be, sir, you're some enemy to Lord Brennus?"

"You speak fairly, sir. This country, as you say, is well settled and at peace. Yet here I am a Saxon crossing lands ruled by Britons, and in these parts by the Lord Brennus, whose guards roam boldly to gather their taxes of corn and livestock. I wish no quarrel of the sort may come from a misunderstanding. Hence my disguise, sir, and we'll all of us move more safely for it."

"Master Wistan," Axl said, "since we're now speaking frankly, perhaps I may in turn ask something of you. You say you're in this country on your king's errand. But why so anxious to adopt your disguise travelling through a country long settled in peace? If my wife and that poor boy are to travel beside you, we'd wish to know the full nature of our companion, and who his friends and enemies might be."

"Very well, sir," he said, "I'll speak fully. I don't mind doing so before you and this fine knight. We've heard rumours in the east of our fellow Saxons across this land ill used by Britons. My king, worrying for his kin, sent me on this mission to observe the real state of affairs. That's all I am, sir, and was going about my errand peaceably when my horse hurt her foot."

For a moment Wistan appeared lost in thought, following with his eyes one of the gnarled roots stretching from the oak's trunk and past where he stood, before burrowing itself into the earth. Eventually he came nearer again, and this time sat down on the stubbled grass.

"I understand well your position, sir," said Gawain. "Horace and I often find ourselves on Saxon-governed land and feel the same need for caution. Then I wish to be rid of this armour and taken for a humble farmer. But if we left this metal somewhere, how would we ever find it again? And even though it's years since Arthur fell, isn't it our duty still to wear his crest with pride for all to see? So we go on boldly and when men see I'm a knight of Arthur, I'm happy to report they look on us gently."

"Horace and I find our king's name well received everywhere, sir, even in those countries you mention. For Arthur was one so generous to those he defeated they soon grew to love him as their own."

For some time -- in fact, ever since Arthur's name had first been mentioned -- a nagging, uneasy feeling had been troubling Axl. Now at last, as he listened to Wistan and the old knight talk, a fragment of memory came to him. It was not much, but it nevertheless brought him relief to have something to hold and examine. He remembered standing inside a tent, a large one of the sort an army will erect near a battlefield. It was night, and there was a heavy candle flickering, and the wind outside making the tent's walls suck and billow. There were others in the tent with him. Several others, perhaps, but he could not remember their faces. He, Axl, was angry about something, but he had understood the importance of hiding his anger at least for the time being.

"It's no surprise you're welcomed in these parts, Sir Gawain," Wistan said. "But can it really be the same in those countries where Arthur was once such a dreaded enemy?"

"Master Wistan," Beatrice was saying beside him, "let me tell you in our own village there are several Saxon families among the most respected. And you saw yourself the Saxon village from which we came today. Those people prosper, and though they sometimes suffer at the hands of fiends such as those you so bravely put down, it's not by any Briton."

"The good mistress speaks truly," Sir Gawain said. "Our beloved Arthur brought lasting peace here between Briton and Saxon, and though we still hear of wars in distant places, here we've long been friends and kin."

"The question does you credit, sir. My reply is that my uncle was a ruler never thought himself greater than God, and always prayed for guidance. So it was that the conquered, no less than those who fought at his side, saw his fairness and wished him as their king."

"All I've seen agree with your words," Wistan said, "and I'm eager to carry back a happy report, though I've yet to see the lands beyond these hills. Sir Gawain, I don't know if ever again I'll be free to ask this of one so wise, so let me do so now. By what strange skill did your great king heal the scars of war in these lands that a traveller can see barely a mark or shadow left of them today?"

"You touch the heart of it just there, Master Wistan. Slaughter children, you say. And yet Arthur charged us at all times to spare the innocents caught in the clatter of war. More, sir, he commanded us to rescue and give sanctuary when we could to all women, children and elderly, be they Briton or Saxon. On such actions were bonds of trust built, even as battles raged."

"What you say rings true, and yet it still seems to me a curious wonder," Wistan said. "Master Axl, do you not feel it a remarkable thing, how Arthur has united this country?"

"Even so, sir, isn't it a strange thing when a man calls another brother who only yesterday slaughtered his children? And yet this is the very thing Arthur appears to have accomplished."

"Master Wistan, once again," Beatrice exclaimed, "who do you take my husband to be? He knows nothing, sir, of the wars!"

But suddenly no one was listening any more, for Edwin, who had drifted back to the road, was now shouting, and then came the beating of rapidly approaching hooves. Later when he thought back to it, it occurred to Axl that Wistan must indeed have become preoccupied with his curious speculations about the past, for the usually alert warrior had barely risen to his feet as the rider turned into the clearing, then slowing the horse with admirable control, came trotting towards the great oak.

Axl recognised immediately the tall, grey-haired soldier who had spoken courteously to Beatrice at the bridge. The man still wore a faint smile, but was approaching them with his sword drawn, though pointed downwards, the hilt resting on the edge of the saddle. He came to a halt where just a few more of the animal's strides would have brought him to the tree. "Good day, Sir Gawain," he said, bowing his head a little.

"Forgive me, Sir Gawain. I wish only to question these companions of yours." He looked down at Wistan, who had again let his jaw drop slackly, and was giggling to himself. Without taking his eyes off the warrior, the soldier shouted: "Boy, move that horse no closer!" For indeed, behind him, Edwin had been approaching with Wistan's mare. "Hear me, lad! Let go the rein and come stand here before me beside your idiot brother. I'm waiting, lad."

The old knight gazed up contemptuously from where he sat. "What do you mean by this, sir, arriving here sword unsheathed?"

Edwin appeared to comprehend the soldier's wishes, if not his actual words, for he left the mare and came to join Wistan. As he did so, the soldier adjusted slightly the position of his horse. Axl, noticing this, understood immediately that the soldier was maintaining a particular angle and distance between himself and his charges that would give him the greatest advantage in the event of sudden conflict. Before, with Wistan standing where he was, the head and neck of the soldier's own horse would momentarily have obstructed his first swing of the sword, giving Wistan vital time either to unsettle the horse, or run to its blind side, where the sword's reach was diminished in scope and power by having to be brought across the body. But now the small adjusting of the horse had made it practically suicidal for an unarmed man, as Wistan was, to storm the rider. The soldier's new position seemed also to have taken expert account of Wistan's mare, loose some distance behind the soldier's back. Wistan was now unable to run for his horse without describing a wide curve to avoid the sword side of the rider, making it a near-certainty he would be run through from behind before reaching his destination.

Axl noted all this with a sense of admiration for the soldier's strategic skill, as well as dismay at its implications. There had been a time when Axl, too, had once nudged his horse forward, in another small but subtly vital manoeuvre, bringing himself in line with a fellow rider. What had he been doing that day? The two of them, he and the other rider, had been waiting on horseback, staring out across a vast grey moor. Until that moment his companion's horse had been in front, for Axl remembered its tail flicking and swaying before him, and wondering how much of this action was due to the animal's reflexes, and how much to the fierce wind sweeping across the empty land.

It took both Axl and Beatrice, one on each arm, to bring the old knight to his feet, but when finally he straightened to his full height in his armour and pulled back his shoulders, he was an impressive sight. But Sir Gawain seemed content to stare moodily at the soldier, and eventually it was Axl who spoke.

Axl pushed these puzzling thoughts away as he struggled to his feet, then helped up his wife. Sir Gawain remained seated, apparently stuck to the foot of the oak, glowering at the newcomer. Then he said quietly to Axl: "Sir, help me rise."

Edwin sulkily returned to Wistan's side and looked enquiringly at the warrior. The latter was still giggling quietly, a line of saliva spilling from one corner of his mouth. His eyes were roaming wildly, but Axl guessed the warrior was in fact taking careful measure of the distance to his own horse, and the proximity of his opponent, and in all probability coming to the same conclusions as Axl's.

"Sir Gawain," Axl whispered. "If there's to be trouble now, I beg you assist me to defend my good wife here."

"I recall you well, uncle," the grey-haired soldier said. "Though when we last met a strange spell had fallen on us guarding the bridge that we forgot our very purpose being there. Only now, my post relieved and riding to our camp, it all suddenly returns to me. Then I thought of you, uncle, and your party slipping past, and turned my horse to hurry after you. Boy! Don't wander, I say! Remain beside your idiot brother!"

"Why do you come upon us like this, sir, and we but simple wayfarers? Do you not remember how you quizzed us not an hour before by the waterfall?"

"I'll tell you what slipped our mind when we last met, uncle. We'd just received word of a Saxon warrior left a nearby village bringing with him a wounded lad." The soldier nodded at Edwin. "A lad the age of that one there. Now, uncle, I don't know what you and the good woman here are to this matter. I seek only this Saxon and his lad. Speak frankly and no harm will visit you."

Axl nodded gratefully, but now the grey-haired soldier was dismounting. Again Axl found himself admiring the skilful way he did this, so that when finally he stood to face Wistan and the boy, he was once more at exactly the correct distance and angle to them; his sword, moreover, was carried so as not to exhaust his arm, while his horse shielded him from any unexpected assault from the rear.

"There's no warrior here, sir. And we've no quarrel with you, nor with Lord Brennus who I suppose to be your master."

"I'll do so on my honour, sir. Rest assured of it."

"Do you know what you speak of, uncle? Lend a mask to our enemies and you'll answer to us, whatever your years. Who are these you travel with, this mute and this lad?"

Axl saw that for the first time the soldier had made an error. He had come too close to his opponent, and although it would be a hideous risk, it was now conceivable for Wistan to move very suddenly and seize the arm holding the sword before it could strike. Wistan, however, went on giggling, then smiled foolishly at Edwin beside him. This latest action, however, seemed to arouse Sir Gawain's anger.

"As I said before, sir, they're given to us by debtors, in place of corn and tin. They'll work a year to pay their family's debt."

The soldier gave this consideration -- Axl's voice had carried unexpected authority -- uncertainty entering his manner. "Sir Gawain," he asked. "What do you know of these people?"

"They chanced on us as Horace and I rested here. I believe them to be simple creatures."

The soldier once more scrutinised Wistan's features. "A mute fool, is it?" He took two steps forward and raised the sword so the point was aimed at Wistan's throat. "But he surely fears death like the rest of us."

"Sure you're not mistaken, uncle?"

"I know not whom you seek, sir, but it wouldn't be these poor Saxons. And while you spend your time with us, your enemies move freely elsewhere."

"They may be strangers to me only an hour ago, sir," he boomed. "But I'll not see them treated with rudeness."

"Do you dare speak to a knight of Arthur that way, sir?"

"Can it be possible," the soldier said, completely ignoring Sir Gawain, "this idiot here is a warrior disguised? With no weapon about him, it makes little difference. Mine's a blade sharp enough whichever he may be."

"This doesn't concern you, Sir Gawain. I would ask you to remain silent."

"How dare he!" Sir Gawain muttered to himself.

The grey-haired soldier, perhaps suddenly realising his error, took two paces back till he was exactly where he had been before, and lowered the sword to waist height. "Boy," he said. "Step forward to me."

As Edwin came nearer the soldier reached out with his free hand. A tussle ensued as Edwin tried to fight him off, but the shirt was soon dragged up the boy's torso, and Axl saw, a little way below the ribs, a swollen patch of skin encircled by tiny dots of dried blood. On either side of him, Beatrice and Gawain were now leaning forward to see better, but the soldier himself, reluctant to take his gaze off Wistan, did not glance at the wound for some time. When finally he did so, he was obliged to make a swift turn of his head, and at that very moment, Edwin produced a piercing, high-pitched noise -- not a scream exactly, but something that reminded Axl of a forlorn fox. The soldier was for an instant distracted by it, and Edwin seized the chance to break from his grasp. Only then did Axl realise the noise was coming not from the boy, but from Wistan; and that in response, the warrior's mare, until then languidly munching the ground, had suddenly turned and was charging straight for them.

"He needn't speak, uncle. Only raise his shirt and we'll know if he's the one left the village with the warrior. Boy, a step closer to me."

"He speaks only the Saxon tongue, sir, and a shy boy too," Axl said.

The soldier's own horse had made a panicked motion behind him, causing him further confusion, and by the time he had recovered, Wistan had gone clear of the sword's reach. The mare kept coming at daunting speed, and Wistan, feinting one way, then moving the other, produced another shrill call. The mare slowed to a canter, bringing herself between Wistan and his opponent, enabling the warrior, in an almost leisurely manner, to take up a position several strides from the oak. The mare turned again, moving smartly in pursuit of her master. Axl supposed Wistan's intention was to mount the animal as she came past, for the warrior was now waiting, both arms poised in the air. Axl even saw him reach towards the saddle just before the mare momentarily obscured him from view. But then the horse cantered on riderless towards the spot where so recently she had been enjoying the grass. Wistan had remained standing quite still, but now with a sword in his hand.

A small exclamation escaped Beatrice, and Axl, placing an arm around her, drew her closer. On his other side, Gawain made a grunting noise which seemed to signify his appreciation of Wistan's manoeuvre. The old knight had placed a foot up on one of the raised roots of the oak, and was watching with keen interest, a hand on his knee.

"I stand here to protect this good couple, sir. Otherwise, this dispute is not my concern, as you so lately reported. This warrior may be your foe, but he isn't yet mine."

"Sir Gawain," the soldier said, a new note in his voice, "I hear you move at my back. Do you stand with me against this foe?"

The grey-haired soldier's back was now turned to them: in this, of course, he had had little choice, for he had now to face Wistan. Axl was surprised to see that this soldier, so controlled and expert only a moment ago, had become quite disorientated. He was looking towards his horse -- which had trotted some way away in panic -- as though for reassurance, then raised his sword, the tip just above the level of his shoulder, gripping tightly with both hands. This posture, Axl knew, was premature, and would only exhaust the arm muscles. Wistan, in contrast, looked calm, almost nonchalant, just as he had done the previous night when they had first glimpsed him setting off out of the village. He came slowly towards the soldier, stopping a few steps before him, sword held low in just one hand.

"If fifty fierce Vikings fell to him, what difference can one old and weary knight make to the outcome now, sir?"

"What reason have I to take arms against a man simply for being a stranger? It's you, sir, came into this tranquil place with your rude manners."

"This fellow's a Saxon warrior, Sir Gawain, and here to do us mischief. Help me face him, for though I'm keen to do my duty, if this is the man we seek he's a fearful fellow by all accounts."

There was silence for a while. Then the soldier said to Wistan: "Do you stay mute, sir? Or will you reveal yourself now we face one another!"

"Sir Gawain," the soldier cried, "will you come to the aid of a fellow Briton, I ask you once again. If this is Wistan, it's said more than fifty Norsemen have fallen by his hand alone."

"I'm Wistan, sir, a warrior from the east visiting this country. It seems your Lord Brennus would have me hurt, though for what reason I know not since I travel in peace on an errand for my king. And it's my belief you mean to harm that innocent boy, and seeing this I must now frustrate you."

"Name the mischief I bring," Wistan said, "travelling peacefully through your country, a single sword in my pack to defend against wild creatures and bandits. If you can name my crime, do so now, for I'd hear the charge before I strike you."

"No charge to name, then, yet you hurry here to slay me."

"Sir Gawain, I beg you help me! Fierce as he is, the two of us with careful strategy might overcome him."

"I beg you, do not jest, Sir Gawain. This is a wild fellow, and he'll strike at any moment. I see it in his eye. He's here to do us all mischief, I tell you."

"Sir, let me remind you, I'm a knight of Arthur, no foot soldier of your Lord Brennus. I don't take up arms against strangers on rumour or for their foreign blood. And it seems to me you're unable to give good cause for taking against him."

"You force me to speak then, sir, though these are confidences to which a man of my humble rank has no right, even if Lord Brennus himself let me hear them. This man is come to this country on a mission to slay the dragon Querig. This is what brings him here!"

"I'm ignorant of the nature of your mischief, sir, but have faith enough in Lord Brennus's desire to be free of you."

"I've no wish to lie to a knight of Arthur, so let me declare it. Further to my duty reported earlier, I've been charged by my king to slay the she-dragon roams this country. But what objection could there be to such a task? A fierce dragon bringing danger to all alike. Tell me, soldier, why is it such a mission makes me your enemy?"

"Slay Querig?" Sir Gawain sounded genuinely dumbfounded. He strode forward from the tree and stared at Wistan as if seeing him for the first time. "Is this true, sir?"

"Sir Gawain, if you'll not come to my aid, I fear this is my final hour! I implore you, sir, remember the affection Lord Brennus has for Arthur and his memory and take arms against this Saxon!"

"A dispute for some other time, Sir Gawain. Let me first attend to this soldier who would make an enemy of me and my friends when we would go by in peace."

"Slay Querig?! You really mean to slay Querig?!" Sir Gawain was now shouting. "But sir, this is a mission entrusted to me! Do you not know this? A mission entrusted to me by Arthur himself!"

"Lay down your sword, sir," Wistan said to the soldier, "and I may spare you yet. Otherwise end your life on this ground."

The soldier hesitated, but then said: "I see now I was foolish to suppose myself strong enough to take you alone, sir. I may be punished yet for my vanity. But I won't now lay down my sword like a coward."

"By what right," Sir Gawain cried, "does your king order you to come from another country and usurp the duties given to a knight of Arthur?"

"It is my duty to slay Querig, Master Wistan! Horace and I have laid careful plans to lure her out and we seek no assistance!"

"Why be angry, sir? You know not what you're about! You think it an easy matter to slay Querig? She's as wise as she's fierce! You'll only anger her with your foolishness, and this whole country will need suffer her wrath, where we've hardly heard a thing of her these past several years. It requires the most delicate handling, sir, or a calamity will befall the innocent right across this country! Why do you suppose Horace and I have so bided our time? One misstep will have grave consequences, sir!"

"Forgive me, Sir Gawain, but it's many a year you've had to slay Querig, and small children have become grown men in the time. If I can do this country a service and rid it of this scourge, why be angry?"

"Then help me, Sir Gawain," the soldier shouted, now making no effort to hide his fear. "Let's together put out this menace!"

"Sir Gawain, I hang here between life and death as a fly caught in a web. I make my last appeal to you, and though I don't understand the full part of this matter, I beg you consider why he comes to our country if not to do us mischief!"

"He gives good account of his errand here, sir, and though he angers me with his careless plans, it's hardly reason to join you in arms against him."

Sir Gawain looked at the soldier with a puzzled air, as if he had forgotten for the moment who he was. Then he said in a calmer voice: "I'll not aid you, sir. I'm no friend of your master, for I fear his dark motives. I fear too the harm you intend to these others here, who must be innocents in whatever intrigue enfolds us."

"Fight now, soldier," Wistan said, his tone almost conciliatory. "Fight and be done with it."

"Will it do harm, Master Wistan," Beatrice said suddenly, "to let this soldier surrender his sword and ride away? He spoke kindly to me before on the bridge and he's perhaps not a bad man."

"I thank you once more, mistress. But this is no time for me to soften my heart with such thoughts. Fortune may favour me yet in this contest, no matter this man's reputation, and then you may regret you ever wished me kindness."

"Your kindness touches me, mistress," the grey-haired soldier intervened, never taking his eyes off Wistan. "But I'm no scoundrel and won't take rude advantage of it. What the Saxon says is true. Spare me and I'll do just as he says, for duty allows me no other course. Yet I thank you for your gentle words, and if these are to be my last moments, then I'll leave this world a little more peacefully for them."

"Perhaps he would willingly swear an oath not to betray us."

"What's more, sir," Beatrice said, "I've not forgotten your earlier request, concerning your mother and father. You made it then in jest, I know, and it's not likely we'll encounter them. But if ever we do so, they'll know of how you waited with longing to see them again."

"If I do as you ask, Mistress Beatrice, he'll take news back of us and surely return before long with thirty or more soldiers. There'll be little mercy shown then. And mark you, he means sinister harm to the boy."

"Pardon me, mistress," Wistan said, "but I would the boy witness all that unfolds, just as I was often made to do at his age. I know he'll not flinch or retch to witness the ways of warriors." He now spoke several sentences in Saxon, and Edwin, who had been standing by himself a short way away, walked over to the tree and stood beside Axl and Beatrice. His eyes, watchful, seemed never to blink.

"Most likely so," Beatrice said and sighed. "Then Master Wistan, you must do your best for us. I'll look away, for I take no pleasure in slaughter. And I bid you tell young Master Edwin do the same, for I'm sure he'll only heed if you command it."

Axl could hear the grey-haired soldier's breathing, more audible now because the man was releasing a low growl with each breath. When he charged forward he did so with his sword high above his head in what seemed an unsophisticated, even suicidal attack; but just before he reached Wistan, he abruptly altered his trajectory, and feinted to his left, his sword lowered to his hip. The grey-haired soldier, Axl understood with a twinge of pity, knowing he stood little chance should the combat mature, had wagered everything on this one desperate ploy. But Wistan had anticipated it, or perhaps it was that his instincts were enough. The Saxon side-stepped neatly, and drew his own sword across the oncoming man in a single simple movement. The soldier let out a sound such as a bucket makes when, dropped into a well, it first strikes the water; he then fell forward onto the ground. Sir Gawain muttered a prayer, and Beatrice asked: "Is it done now, Axl?"

Edwin was staring at the fallen man, his expression barely changed from before. Following the boy's gaze, Axl saw that a serpent, disturbed in the grass by the soldier's fall, was now sliding out from under the body. Though dark, the creature was mottled with yellows and whites, and as it revealed more of itself, travelling swiftly across the ground, Axl caught the powerful odour of a man's insides. He instinctively stepped to one side, moving Beatrice with him, in case the creature should come searching for their feet. Still it kept coming their way, parting in two around a clump of thistle, as a stream might part around a rock, before becoming one again and continuing ever closer.

"It's done, princess."

"Come away, princess," Axl said, leading her. "It's done, and it's as well. This man meant us harm, though the reason's still not clear."

"Let me enlighten you as far as I can, Master Axl," Wistan said. He had been cleaning his sword on the ground, but now rose and came towards them. "It's true our Saxon kin in this country live in good harmony with your people. But we've reports at home of Lord Brennus's ambitions to conquer this land for himself and make war on all Saxons now living on it."

"If I'm aghast, sir, it's because there's a sound ring to your words. When I was a young man, I once faced a dragon in an opposing army, and a fearful thing it was. My comrades, hungry for victory the moment before, froze for fear at the sight, and this a creature not half the equal of Querig in might or cunning. If Querig is made a servant of Lord Brennus, it will surely tempt new wars. Yet it's my hope she's too wild to be tamed by any man." He paused, looked towards the fallen soldier and shook his head.

"We at home hear more, sir," said Wistan. "That Brennus entertains in his castle a dangerous guest. A Norseman said to possess the wisdom to tame dragons. It's my king's fear Lord Brennus means to capture Querig to fight in the ranks of his army. This she-dragon would make a fierce soldier indeed, and Brennus would then rightly harbour ambition. It's for this I'm sent to destroy the dragon before her savagery turns on all who oppose Lord Brennus. Sir Gawain, you look aghast, but I speak sincerely."

"I hear the same reports, sir," Sir Gawain said. "It was another reason I wouldn't side with this wretch now gutted like a trout. I fear this Lord Brennus is one who would undo the great peace won by Arthur."

Wistan strode over to where Edwin was standing, and grasping the boy by the arm, began gently to lead him towards the corpse. Then for a little while the two of them stood side by side over the soldier, Wistan talking quietly, pointing occasionally, and looking into Edwin's face to check the response. At one stage, Axl saw Wistan's finger trace a smooth line through the air, as perhaps he explained to the boy the journey made by his blade. All the while, Edwin went on gazing blankly at the fallen man.

Sir Gawain, appearing now at Axl's side, said: "It's a great sadness this tranquil spot, surely a gift from God to all weary travellers, is now polluted by blood. Let's bury this man quickly, before anyone else comes this way, and I'll take his horse to Lord Brennus's camp, together with news of how I came upon him attacked by bandits, and where his friends may find his grave. Meanwhile, sir"-- he turned to address Wistan --"I urge you return straight away east. Think no more of Querig, for you can be assured Horace and I, hearing all we have today, will redouble our efforts to slay her. Now come, friends, let's put this man in the earth that he may return to his maker peacefully."