It was a question, I am sure, equally to baffle Axl as he came wearily up the mountain slope. When the young girl had first mentioned the giant's cairn, he had pictured something atop a large mound. Yet this cairn had simply appeared before them on the incline, no feature around it to explain its presence. The goat, nonetheless, seemed immediately to sense its significance, struggling frantically as soon as the cairn had become visible as a dark finger against the sky. "It knows its fate," Sir Gawain had remarked, guiding his horse up with Beatrice in the saddle.

Some of you will have fine monuments by which the living may remember the evil done to you. Some of you will have only crude wooden crosses or painted rocks, while yet others of you must remain hidden in the shadows of history. You are in any case part of an ancient procession, and so it is always possible the giant's cairn was erected to mark the site of some such tragedy long ago when young innocents were slaughtered in war. This aside, it is not easy to think of reasons for its standing. One can see why on lower ground our ancestors might have wished to commemorate a victory or a king. But why stack heavy stones to above a man's height in so high and remote a place as this?

"Can it be Querig's mist works its mischief on goats and men alike?"

"If the goat dies first, Axl, do you suppose she'll still sup on meat not living and fresh?"

But now the goat had forgotten its earlier dread and was chewing the mountain grass contentedly.

It was Beatrice who asked this as she held with both hands the animal's rope. Axl had for the moment relinquished the creature while he hammered into the ground with a stone the wooden stake around which the rope had been wound.

"Who knows, princess. But if God cares at all for goats, he'll bring the she-dragon here before long, or it'll be a lonely wait for this poor animal."

"Who knows how a she-dragon likes her meat? But there's grass here to keep this goat a while, princess, even if it's of a mean sort."

"Look there, Axl. I thought the knight would help us, weary as we both are. But he's forgotten his usual manners."

Indeed Sir Gawain had become oddly reticent since their arrival at the cairn. "This is the place you seek," he had said in an almost sulky voice, before wandering off. And now he stood with his back to them, staring at the clouds.

"Sir Gawain," Axl called out, pausing from his work. "Will you not assist holding this goat? My poor wife grows tired from it."

"I see them below," the old knight said. "And nothing now to turn them."

"I speak of your recent companions, sir. The same with whom you travelled yesterday when we met. They emerge from the wood below, and who'll stop them now? For a moment, I raised a hope I merely looked on two black widows strayed from that infernal procession. But it was the cloudy sky playing its tricks, and it's them, no mistake."

The old knight did not react, and Axl, assuming he had not heard, was about to repeat his request, when Gawain turned suddenly, and with such a look of solemnity, they both stared at him.

"Who is it you see, sir?" Axl asked. Then when the knight remained silent, "Are they soldiers? We watched earlier some long column on the horizon, but thought they moved away from us."

"That he did, sir. And now he comes, and on his rope not a goat, but the Saxon boy to guide him."

"So Master Wistan escaped the monastery after all," Axl said.

"Then he joins forces with us," Beatrice said, "to bring down the she-dragon."

"And have our friends in turn seen us here, Sir Gawain?" Axl asked, returning to his task.

"I'll wager that warrior has keen eyes, and sees us even now against the sky, figures in a tug contest, the goat our opponent!" He laughed to himself, but a melancholy lingered in his voice. "Yes," he said finally. "I fancy he sees us well enough."

At last Sir Gawain seemed to notice Beatrice struggling with the animal and came hurriedly from the cliff edge to seize the rope. But Beatrice did not let go, and for a moment it was as if she and the knight were tussling for control of the goat. In time they stood steadily, both holding the rope, the old knight a step or two in front of Beatrice.

"Believing what, Sir Gawain?"

Sir Gawain looked from one to the other of them uneasily. Then he said: "Master Axl, do you still persist in believing it?"

"That we gather here in this forsaken spot as comrades?"

"Make your meaning clearer, sir knight."

"Master Axl, didn't our ways part years ago? Mine remained with Arthur, while yours…" He seemed now to become aware of Beatrice behind him, and turning, bowed politely. "Dear lady, I beg you let go this rope and rest. I'll not let the animal escape. Sit down beside the cairn there. It will shelter at least some part of you from this wind."

Gawain led the goat to where Axl was kneeling, oblivious of Beatrice following behind, still clutching her end of the rope.

"Thank you, Sir Gawain," Beatrice said. "Then I'll trust you with this creature, and it's a precious one to us."

She began to make her way towards the cairn, and something about the way she did so, her shoulders hunched against the wind, caused a fragment of recollection to stir on the edges of Axl's mind. The emotion it provoked, even before he could hold it down, surprised and shocked him, for mingled with the overwhelming desire to go to her now and shelter her, were distinct shadows of anger and bitterness. She had talked of a long night spent alone, tormented by his absence, but could it be he too had known such a night, or even several, of similar anguish? Then, as Beatrice stopped before the cairn and bowed her head to the stones as if in apology, he felt both memory and anger growing firmer, and a fear made him turn away from her. Only then did he notice Sir Gawain also gazing over at Beatrice, a look of tenderness in his eyes, seemingly lost in his thoughts. But the knight soon collected himself, and coming closer to Axl, leant right down as though to remove any small chance of Beatrice overhearing.

"Who's to say your path wasn't the more godly?" he said. "To leave behind all great talk of war and peace. Leave behind that fine law to bring men closer to God. To leave behind Arthur once and for all and devote yourself to…" He glanced over again at Beatrice, who had remained on her feet, her forehead almost touching the piled stones in her effort to escape the wind. "To a good wife, sir. I've watched how she goes beside you as a kind shadow. Should I have done the same? Yet God guided us down separate paths. I had a duty. Ha! And do I fear him now? Never, sir, never. I accuse you of nothing. That great law you brokered torn down in blood! Yet it held well for a time. Torn down in blood! Who blames us for it now? Do I fear youth? Is it youth alone can defeat an opponent? Let him come, let him come. Remember it, sir! I saw you that very day and you talked of cries in your ears of children and babes. I heard the same, sir, yet were they not like the cries from the surgeon's tent when a man's life is spared even as the cure brings agonies? Yet I admit it. There are days I long for a kind shadow to follow me. Even now I turn in hope to see one. Doesn't every animal, every bird in the sky crave a tender companion? There were one or two I'd willingly have given my years. Why should I fear him now? I've fought fanged Norsemen with reindeer snouts, and they no masks! Here, sir, tie your goat now. How much deeper will you drive that stake? Is it a goat you tether or a lion?"

"What are you saying, princess?"

Handing Axl the rope, Gawain went striding off, not stopping till he stood where the land's edge appeared to meet the sky. Axl, one knee pressed into the grass, tied the rope tightly around the notch in the wood, then looked once more over to his wife. She was standing at the cairn much as before, and though something in her posture again tugged at him, he was relieved to find in himself no trace of the earlier bitterness. Instead he felt almost overcome by an urge to defend her, not just from the harsh wind, but from something else large and dark even then gathering around them. He rose and hurried to her.

"The goat's well secured, princess," he said. "Just as soon as you're ready, let's be off down this slope. For haven't we completed the errand promised to those children and to ourselves?"

"Oh Axl, I don't want to go back to those woods."

"Axl, you never went to the pond's edge, you were so busy talking to this knight. You never looked into that chilly water."

"These winds have tired you, princess."

"The babes, and only a short way beneath the water's surface. I thought first they were smiling, and some waving, but when I went nearer I saw how they lay unmoving."

"Who, princess?"

Sir Gawain, gazing down at the view, had raised his arm in the air, and now without turning, shouted through the wind: "They'll soon be upon us! They come up the slope eagerly."

"I saw their faces staring up as if resting in their beds."

"Just another dream came to you while you rested against that tree. I remember seeing you asleep there and took comfort from it at the time, even as I talked with the old knight."

"I truly saw them, Axl. Among the green weed. Let's not go back to that wood, for I'm sure some evil lingers there."

The goat was pulling at its rope as they passed, but the stake showed no sign of shifting. Axl had been keen to see how near the approaching figures were, but now the old knight came walking towards them, and they all three halted not far from where the animal was tethered.

"Let's go to him, princess, but keep the cloak around you. I was foolish to bring you this far, but we'll soon find shelter again. Yet let's see what troubles the good knight."

"Free the goat? What do I care for your goat, sir? The Saxon warrior will soon be upon us, and what a fellow he is! Go, look if you doubt it! What do I care for your goat? Master Axl, I see you before me now and I'm reminded of that night. The wind as fierce then as this one. And you, cursing Arthur to his face while the rest of us stood with heads bowed! For who wanted the task of striking you down? Each of us hiding from the king's eye, for fear he'd command with one glance to run you through, unarmed though you were. But see, sir, Arthur was a great king, and here's more proof of it! You cursed him before his finest knights, yet he replied gently to you. You recall this, sir?"

"What's this you ask? Too much, sir! Did I not tell you when we met in Merlin's wood to climb this hill no further? It was you both insisted on coming here."

"Sir Gawain," Axl said, "my wife grows weak and must return to shelter and food. May we carry her down on your horse as we brought her up?"

"Perhaps we were foolish, sir, but we had a purpose, and if we must turn back without you, you must promise not to free this goat cost us so dearly to bring here."

"I recall nothing of it, Sir Gawain. Your she-dragon's breath keeps it all from me."

"I don't care for any of these memories, Sir Gawain. Today I seek others from another stormy night my wife speaks of."

"My eyes lowered like the rest, expecting your head to roll past my feet even as I gazed down at them! Yet Arthur spoke to you with gentleness! You don't recall even a part of it? The wind that night almost as strong as this one, our tent ready to fly into the dark sky. Yet Arthur meets curses with gentle words. He thanked you for your service. For your friendship. And he bade us all think of you with honour. I myself whispered farewell to you, sir, as you took your fury into the storm. You didn't hear me, for it was said under my breath, but a sincere farewell all the same, and I wasn't alone. We all shared something of your anger, sir, even if you did wrong to curse Arthur, and on the very day of his great victory! You say now Querig's breath keeps this from your mind, or is it the years alone, or even this wind enough to make the wisest monk a fool?"

"A sincere farewell I bade you, sir, and let me confess it, when you cursed Arthur a small part of me spoke through you. For that was a great treaty you brokered, and well held for years. Didn't all men, Christian and pagan, sleep more easily for it, even on the eve of battle? To fight knowing our innocents safe in our villages? And yet, sir, the wars didn't finish. Where once we fought for land and God, we now fought to avenge fallen comrades, themselves slaughtered in vengeance. Where could it end? Babes growing to men knowing only days of war. And your great law already suffering violation…"

"The law was well held on both sides until that day, Sir Gawain," Axl said. "It was an unholy thing to break it."

"Ah, now you recall it!"

"My memory's of God himself betrayed, sir. And I'm not sorry if the mist robs me further of it."

"For a time I wished the same of the mist, Master Axl. Yet soon I understood the hand of a truly great king. For the wars stopped at last, wasn't that so, sir? Hasn't peace been our companion since that day?"

"My horse, sir? You imply I've no more use of my Horace? You go too far, sir! I don't fear him, even if he's youth on his side!"

"Remind me no more, Sir Gawain. I don't thank you for it. Let me see instead the life I led with my dear wife, shivering here beside me. Will you not lend us your horse, sir? At least down to the woods where we met. We'll leave him safely there to await you."

"My horse, sir? Do you insist his eyes be masked or watch his master's fall? He's a battlehorse, sir! Not some pony frolics in buttercups! A battlehorse, sir, and well ready to see me fall or triumph as God wills!"

"I imply nothing, Sir Gawain, only ask for the assistance of your excellent horse to carry my wife down to shelter…"

"If my wife must travel on my own back, sir knight, so be it. Yet I thought you might spare your horse at least the distance down to the wood…"

"Oh Axl, I'll not return to those woods! Why insist we leave this place now and go down there? Can it be, husband, you still fear the mist's fading, never mind the promise I made you?"

"I'll remain here, Axl, never mind this cruel wind, and if Master Wistan's nearly upon us, we'll stay and see if it's him or the she-dragon survives this day. Or is it you'd rather not see the mist fade after all, husband?"

"I've seen it before many times, sir! An eager young one brought down by a wise old head. Many times!"

"Will you not understand the acts of a great king, sir? We can only watch and wonder. A great king, like God himself, must perform deeds mortals flinch from! Do you think there were none that caught my eye? A tender flower or two passed on the way I didn't long to press to my bosom? Is this metal coat to be my only bedfellow? Who calls me a coward, sir? Or a slaughterer of babes? Where were you that day? Were you with us? My helmet! I left it in those woods! But what need of it now? The armour too I'd take off but I fear you all laughing to see the skinned fox beneath!"

"Is it not enough, husband, I swore you an oath, and only this morning, I'd not let go what I feel in my heart for you today, no matter what the mist's fading reveals?"

"Sir, let me implore you again to remember your gentlemanly ways. This wind drains my wife of strength."

"My apologies," the warrior said. "Yet it's all I can do to stop him leaping rock to rock till he breaks himself."

For a moment, all three of them were shouting over each other, the howl of the wind a fourth voice against theirs, but now Axl became aware that both Gawain and his wife had fallen silent and were staring past his shoulder. Turning, he saw the warrior and the Saxon boy standing at the cliff's edge, almost on the very spot where before Sir Gawain had been gazing broodingly out at the view. The sky had thickened, so that to Axl it was as if the newcomers had been carried here on the clouds. Now both of them, in near-silhouette, appeared peculiarly transfixed: the warrior holding firm his rein in both hands like a charioteer; the boy leaning forward at an angle, both arms outstretched as though for balance. There was a new sound in the wind, and then Axl heard Sir Gawain say: "Ah! the boy sings again! Can you not make him cease, sir?"

Wistan gave a laugh, and the two figures lost their rigidity and came towards them, the boy pulling in front.

"What can be the matter with the boy, Axl?" Beatrice said, close to his ear, and he was grateful to hear the gentle intimacy returned to her voice. "He was just this way before that dog appeared."

"The same business as yours, Master Wistan. We crave the end to this she-dragon who robs us of treasured memories. You see, sir, we've brought with us a poisoned goat to do our work."

"It taxed us greatly bringing it here, Master Wistan," Beatrice said, "even if we were helped by this good knight met again on the way up. But seeing you here, I'm cheered, for it must be our hopes no longer rest solely with our animal."

"Must he sing so untunefully?" Sir Gawain addressed Wistan again. "I'd box his ears but fear he'd not even feel me!"

The warrior, still approaching, laughed again, then glanced cheerfully at Axl and Beatrice. "My friends, this is a surprise. I fancied you'd be in your son's village by now. What brings you instead to this lonely spot?"

Wistan regarded the animal and shook his head. "This must be a mighty and cunning creature we face, friends. I fear your goat may not trouble her beyond a belch or two."

"Master Wistan," Axl said, "we share a duty to keep this boy from harm. We must watch him carefully in this high place."

"I hold him by a leash, sir, but can no more control him than a crazed goblin."

"Master Edwin appears anxious to reach those rocks up there. Sir Gawain, what lies in them? I see stones piled one upon another, as though to hide a pit or lair."

"Why ask me, sir?" said Sir Gawain. "Ask your young companion and he may even stop his songs!"

The warrior led Edwin to where Axl had hammered in the stake, and crouching down began securing the boy's rope to it. Indeed it seemed to Axl that Wistan lavished unusual care on this task, testing repeatedly each knot he made, as well as the soundness of Axl's handiwork. Meanwhile the boy himself remained oblivious. He calmed somewhat, but his gaze stayed fixed on the rocks at the top of the slope, and he continued to tug with quiet insistence. His singing, though far less shrill, had gained a dogged quality that reminded Axl of the way exhausted soldiers sing to keep marching. For its part, the goat had moved as far away as its own rope would allow, but was nonetheless gawping in fascination.

But now Edwin's singing was making it hard for them to hear one another, and the boy was tugging more than ever, the object of his attention quite evidently a spot at the crest of the next slope. Wistan gave the rope a sharp pull, then said:

"Well said, sir. I'll tether him, if I may, to the same post as your goat."

As for Sir Gawain, he had been watching Wistan's every movement with care, and -- so it seemed to Axl -- a kind of sly cunning had come into his eyes. As the Saxon warrior had become absorbed in his task, the knight had moved stealthily closer, drawn out his sword, and planting it into the soil, leant his weight on it, forearms resting on the broad hilt. In this stance, Gawain was now watching Wistan, and it struck Axl he might be memorising details concerning the warrior's person: his height, his reach, the strength in the calves, the strapped left arm.

His work completed to his satisfaction, Wistan rose and turned to face Sir Gawain. For a small moment there was a strange uneasiness in the looks they exchanged, then Wistan smiled warmly.

"Now here's a custom divides Britons from Saxons," he said, pointing. "See there, sir. Your sword's drawn and you use it to rest your weight, as if it's cousin to a chair or footstool. To any Saxon warrior, even one taught by Britons as I was, it seems a strange custom."

"Grow to my creaky years, sir, you'll see if it seems so strange! In days of peace like these, I fancy a good sword's only too glad of the work, even if just to relieve its owner's bones. What's odd about it, sir?"

"But observe, Sir Gawain, how it presses into the earth. Now to us Saxons, a sword's edge is a thing of never-sleeping worry. We fear to show a blade even the air lest it lose a tiny part of its edge."

"Is that so? A sharp edge's of importance, Master Wistan, I'll not dispute. But isn't there too much made of it? Good footwork, sound strategy, calm courage. And that little wildness makes a warrior hard to predict. These are what determine a contest, sir. And the knowledge God wills one's victory. So let an old man rest his shoulders. Besides, aren't there times a sword left in the sheath's drawn too late? I've stood this way on many a battlefield to gather breath, comforted my blade's already out and ready, and it won't be rubbing its eyes and asking me if it's afternoon or morn even as I try to put it to good use."

"A difference in custom then, sir. It reminds me of a Saxon I once knew, a fine fellow, and he and I gathering kindling on a cold night. I would be busying my sword to hack from a dead tree, yet there he is beside me, employing his bare hands and sometimes a blunt stone. 'Have you forgotten your blade, friend?' I asked him. 'Why go at it like a sharp-clawed bear?' But he wouldn't hear me. At the time I thought him crazed, yet now you enlighten me. Even with my years, there are still lessons to learn!"

"Then it must be we Saxons keep our swords more heartlessly. For we demand they not sleep at all, even as they rest in the dark of their scabbards. Take my own here, sir. It knows my manner well. It doesn't expect to take the air without soon touching flesh and bone."

They both laughed briefly, then Wistan said:

"There may be more than custom on my side, Sir Gawain. I was always taught that even as my blade travels through one opponent, I must in my thought prepare the cut that will follow. Now if my edge isn't sharp, sir, and the blade's passage slowed even a tiny instant, snagged in bone or dawdling through the tangles of a man's insides, I'll surely be late for the next cut, and on such may hang victory or defeat."

"Of course, sir, take your comfort. Merely a thought struck me seeing you rest that way."

"You're right, sir. I believe it's old age and these long years of peace make me careless. I'll follow your example from here, yet just now my knees sag from the climb, and I beg you allow me this small relief."

Suddenly Edwin stopped singing and began to shout. He was making the same statement over and over, and Axl, turning to Beatrice beside him, asked quietly: "What is it he says, princess?"

"Sir Gawain," Axl said finally. "We look now to you, sir. Let's keep no more disguises between us. You're the she-dragon's protector, are you not?"

"I am, sir." Gawain gazed at each of them in turn, Edwin included, with an air of defiance. "Her protector, and lately her only friend. The monks kept her fed for years, leaving tethered animals at this spot, as you do. But now they quarrel among themselves, and Querig senses their treachery. Yet she knows I stay loyal."

Wistan and Gawain were both staring at the boy with something like embarrassment. For another moment, Edwin continued to shout and pull, then fell silent, slumping down onto the ground, and appeared on the verge of tears. No one spoke for what seemed a long time, the wind howling between them.

"He talks of some bandits' camp lies up there. He bids us all follow him to it."

"She's near, sir. You've done well to arrive here, even if you had good fortune stumbling on that boy for a guide."

"Master Edwin here may prove of greater fortune yet," said the warrior. "For I've a hunch he's a pupil to quickly surpass his poor master and one day do great things for his kin. Perhaps even as your Arthur did for his."

"Then Sir Gawain," Wistan said, "will you care to tell us if we stand near the she-dragon now?"

Edwin, who was back on his feet, began to sing once more, albeit in a low chant-like manner.

"Perhaps Master Wistan here's keen to explain it, mistress."

"Sir Gawain," Beatrice interrupted, "tell a weary old woman if you will. How is it a fine knight like you, and a nephew to the great Arthur, turns out this she-dragon's protector?"

"What, sir? This boy now singing and tugging like a half-wit?"

"On the contrary, I'm as eager as Mistress Beatrice to hear your account of it. Yet all in good time. First, we must settle one question. Will I cut loose Master Edwin to see where he runs? Or will you, Sir Gawain, lead the way to Querig's lair?"

"I thank you, sir," Wistan said. "I'm grateful we spare the boy the danger. Yet I may now guess the way without a guide. We must go to those rocks atop this next slope, must we not?"

Sir Gawain sighed again, glanced at Axl as though for help, then shook his head sadly. "Quite right, sir," he said. "Those rocks circle a pit, and no small one. A pit as deep as a quarry, and you'll find Querig asleep there. If you really mean to fight her, Master Wistan, you'll have to climb down into it. Now I ask you, sir, do you really mean to do such a wild thing?"

Sir Gawain stared emptily at the struggling boy, then sighed. "Leave him where he is," he said heavily. "I'll lead the way." He straightened to his full height, pulled the sword from the ground and carefully returned it to its scabbard.

"I've come this long way to do so, sir."

"Master Wistan," Beatrice said, "if you'll excuse an old woman's intrusion. You laughed just now at our goat, but this is a great battle you face. If this knight will not help you, at least allow us to take our goat up this last slope and prod it down into this pit. If you must fight a she-dragon single-handed, let it be one slowed by poison."

"But Sir Gawain," Beatrice said, "my husband and I've stretched our strength to come this far. We'd walk with you this last slope if there's a way to do so without danger."

Sir Gawain once again shook his head helplessly. "Then let's all go together, friends. I dare say no harm will befall you, and I'll be easier myself for your presence. Come, friends, let's go to Querig's lair, and keep your voices low lest she stir from her sleep."

"Then let's have it over with," Sir Gawain said. "Come, sir, I'll lead the way." Then to Axl and Beatrice: "Wait down here, friends, and hide from the wind beside the cairn. You'll not wait long."

"Thank you, mistress, your concern's well received. Yet while I may take advantage of her slumber, poison's a weapon I don't care to employ. Besides, I lack the patience now to wait another half day or more to discover if the she-dragon will sicken from her supper."

As they ascended the next path, the wind grew less harsh, even though they felt more than ever to be touching the sky. The knight and the warrior were striding steadily before them, for all the world like two old companions taking the air together, and before long a distance had opened between them and the elderly couple.

But Beatrice's step remained determined. "I'll have us go on," she said. "Here, Axl, take my hand and help me keep my courage. For I'm thinking now I'm the one to fear most the mist's clearing, not you. I stood beside those stones just now and it came to me there were dark things I did to you once, husband. Feel how this hand trembles in yours to think they may be returned to us! What will you say to me then? Will you turn away and leave me on this bleak hill? There's a part of me would see this brave warrior fall even as he walks before us now, yet I'll not have us hide. No, I'll not, Axl, and aren't you the same? Let's see freely the path we've come together, whether it's in dark or mellow sun. And if this warrior must really face the she-dragon in her own pit, let's do what we can to keep up his spirits. It may be a shout of warning in the right place, or one to rouse him from a fierce blow will make the difference."

"This is foolishness, princess," Axl said as they walked. "What business do we have following these gentlemen? And who knows what dangers lie ahead? Let's turn back and wait beside the boy."

Axl had let her talk on, listening with only half his mind as he walked, because he had become aware once more of something at the far edge of his memory: a stormy night, a bitter hurt, a loneliness opening before him like unfathomed waters. Could it really have been he, not Beatrice, standing alone in their chamber, unable to sleep, a small candle lit before him?

Indeed Sir Gawain and Wistan had halted on the path ahead to wait for them, and appeared to be in genial conversation. As he came up to them, Axl could hear Sir Gawain saying with a small chuckle: "I'll confess, Master Wistan, my hope's that even now Querig's breath will rob you of the memory of why you walk beside me. I await eagerly your asking where it is I lead you! Yet I see from both your eye and step you forget little."

"What became of our son, princess?" he asked suddenly, and felt her hand tighten on his. "Does he really wait for us in his village? Or will we search this country for a year and still not find him?"

"It's a thought came to me too, but I was afraid to think it aloud. But hush now, Axl, or we'll be heard."

Wistan smiled. "I believe, sir, it's this very gift to withstand strange spells won me this errand from my king. For in the fens, we've never known a creature quite like this Querig, yet have known others with wonderful powers, and it was noticed how little I was swayed, even as my comrades swooned and wandered in dreams. I fancy this was my king's only reason to choose me, for almost all my comrades at home are better warriors than this one walks beside you now."

"You overestimate me, sir. Yesterday, needing to bring down that soldier under your gaze, I was all too aware how a man of your skill might view my small accomplishments. Sufficient to defeat a frightened guardsman, but far short of your approval, I fear."

"Impossible to believe, Master Wistan! Both report and observation tell of your extraordinary qualities."

"What nonsense, sir! You're a splendid fellow, and no more of it! Now, friends'-- Gawain turned his gaze to include Axl and Beatrice --"it's not so far now. Let's be moving on while she still sleeps."

They continued in silence. This time Axl and Beatrice did not fall behind, for a sense of solemnity seemed to descend on Gawain and Wistan, making them proceed in front at an almost ceremonial pace. In any case, the ground had become less demanding, levelling to something like a plateau. The rocks they had discussed from below now loomed before them, and Axl could see, as they came ever nearer, how they were arranged in a rough semi-circle around the top of a mound to the side of their path. He could see too how a row of smaller stones rose in a kind of stairway up the side of the mound, leading right up to the rim of what could only be a pit of significant depth. The grass all around where they had now arrived seemed to have been blackened or burnt, lending the surroundings -- already without tree or shrub -- an atmosphere of decay. Gawain, bringing the party to a halt near where the crude stairway began, turned to face Wistan with some deliberation.

"Will you not consider a last time, sir, leaving this dangerous plan? Why not return now to your orphan tied to his stick? There's his voice in the wind even now."

The warrior glanced back the way they had come, then looked again at Sir Gawain. "You know it, sir. I cannot turn back. Show me this dragon."

Sir Gawain led the way up the side of the mound and on reaching the rocks signalled for them to wait. He then peered over carefully, and after a moment, beckoned to them, saying in a low voice: "Come stand along here, friends, and you'll see her well enough."

The old knight nodded thoughtfully, as though Wistan had just made some casual but fascinating observation.

"Very well, friends," he said. "Then keep your voices low, for what purpose should we wake her?"

Axl helped his wife onto a ledge beside him, then leant over one of the rocks. The pit below was broader and shallower than he had expected -- more like a drained pond than something actually dug into the ground. The greater part of it was now in pale sunlight, and seemed to consist entirely of grey rock and gravel -- the blackened grass finishing abruptly at the rim -- so that the only living thing visible, aside from the dragon herself, was a solitary hawthorn bush sprouting incongruously through the stone near the centre of the pit's belly.

As for the dragon, it was hardly clear at first she was alive. Her posture -- prone, head twisted to one side, limbs outspread -- might easily have resulted from her corpse being hurled into the pit from a height. In fact it took a moment to ascertain this was a dragon at all: she was so emaciated she looked more some worm-like reptile accustomed to water that had mistakenly come aground and was in the process of dehydrating. Her skin, which should have appeared oiled and of a colour not unlike bronze, was instead a yellowing white, reminiscent of the underside of certain fish. The remnants of her wings were sagging folds of skin that a careless glance might have taken for dead leaves accumulated to either side of her. The head being turned against the grey pebbles, Axl could see only the one eye, which was hooded in the manner of a turtle's, and which opened and closed lethargically according to some internal rhythm. This movement, and the faintest rise and fall along the creature's backbone, were the only indicators that Querig was still alive.

"Now a little of this comes back to me," Axl said. "I remember Merlin's work here and dark it was too."

"Can this really be her, Axl?" Beatrice said quietly. "This poor creature no more than a fleshy thread?"

"Is she sick or perhaps already poisoned?" asked Axl.

"Yet look there, mistress," Gawain's voice said behind them. "So long as she's breath left, she does her duty."

"Dark, sir?" said Gawain. "Why dark? It was the only way. Even before that battle was properly won, I rode out with four good comrades to tame this same creature, in those days both mighty and angry, so Merlin could place this great spell on her breath. A dark man he may have been, but in this he did God's will, not only Arthur's. Without this she-dragon's breath, would peace ever have come? Look how we live now, sir! Old foes as cousins, village by village. Master Wistan, you fall silent before this sight. I ask again. Will you not leave this poor creature to live out her life? Her breath isn't what it was, yet holds the magic even now. Think, sir, once that breath should cease, what might be awoken across this land even after these years! Yes, we slaughtered plenty, I admit it, caring not who was strong and who weak. God may not have smiled at us, but we cleansed the land of war. Leave this place, sir, I beg you. We may pray to different gods, yet surely yours will bless this dragon as does mine."

"She simply grows old, sir, as we all must do. But she still breathes, and so Merlin's work lingers."

"What kind of god is it, sir, wishes wrongs to go forgotten and unpunished?"

"Foolishness, sir. How can old wounds heal while maggots linger so richly? Or a peace hold for ever built on slaughter and a magician's trickery? I see how devoutly you wish it, for your old horrors to crumble as dust. Yet they await in the soil as white bones for men to uncover. Sir Gawain, my answer's unchanged. I must go down into this pit."

Wistan turned away from the pit to look at the old knight.

"You ask it well, Master Wistan, and I know my god looks uneasily on our deeds of that day. Yet it's long past and the bones lie sheltered beneath a pleasant green carpet. The young know nothing of them. I beg you leave this place, and let Querig do her work a while longer. Another season or two, that's the most she'll last. Yet even that may be long enough for old wounds to heal for ever, and an eternal peace to hold among us. Look how she clings to life, sir! Be merciful and leave this place. Leave this country to rest in forgetfulness."

Wistan came past Axl and Beatrice, and down the rough-hewn steps. When he was once more at the foot of the mound, he looked around him and said, in a quite new voice: "Sir Gawain, this earth looks curious here. Can it be the she-dragon, in her more vigorous days, blasted it this way? Or does lightning strike here often to burn the ground before new grasses return?"

"You know I cannot, Master Wistan."

Sir Gawain nodded gravely. "I understand, sir."

"It's as I thought. Well then."

Gawain, who had followed him down the mound, also came off the steps, and for a moment the two of them strolled about randomly like companions pondering at which spot to pitch their tent.

"Then I must ask you in turn, sir knight. Will you leave this place to me and return now to your fine old stallion awaits you below?"

"It's something always puzzled me too, Master Wistan," Gawain was saying. "For even when younger, she remained above, and I don't suppose it's Querig made this blasted ground. Perhaps it was always thus, even when we first brought her here and lowered her into her lair." Gawain tapped his heel experimentally on the soil. "A good floor, sir, nevertheless."

"That's well observed. Well, then, it's no bad spot!" Sir Gawain looked up at Axl and Beatrice, who were still up on the ledge, though now with their backs to the pit. "Master Axl," he called cheerfully, "you were always the great one for diplomacy. Do you care to use your fine eloquence now to let us leave this place as friends?"

They both laughed, then Wistan said:

"Indeed." Wistan, his back to Gawain, was also testing the ground with his foot.

"A needless worry, sir. See how the ground lifts slightly before the cliff there. As for the opposite edge, it's too far the other way and plenty of thirsty soil first."

"Though perhaps a little short in width?" remarked the knight. "See how that edge rolls over the cliffside. A man who fell here would rest on friendly earth, sure enough, yet his blood may run swiftly through these burnt grasses and over the side. I don't speak for you, sir, but I'll not fancy my insides dripping over the cliff like a gull's white droppings!"

"I'm sorry, Sir Gawain. You've shown us much kindness and we thank you for it. Yet we're now here to see the end of Querig, and if you'll defend her, there's nothing I or my wife can say on your side. Our will's with Master Wistan in this matter."

"I see it, sir. Then let me ask at least this of you. I don't fear this fellow before me. Yet if I should be the one to fall, will you take my good Horace back down this mountain? He'll welcome a pair of good Britons on his back. You may think he grumbles, but you'll not be too much for him. Take my dear Horace far away from here and when you've no more use of him, find him a fine green meadow where he may eat to his heart's content and think of old days. Will you do this for me, friends?"

"We'll do it gladly, sir, and your horse will be the saving of us too, for it's a harsh journey down these hills."

"On that point, sir." Gawain had now come right to the foot of the mound. "I urged you once before to use the river, and do so again. Let Horace take you down these slopes, but once you meet the river, search for a boat to take you east. There's tin and coins in the saddle to buy your passage."

"But Sir Gawain," Beatrice said. "If your horse takes the two of us, then how's your fallen body to be carried from this mountain? In your kindness you neglect your own corpse. And we'd be sorry to bury you in so lonely a spot as this."

"We thank you, sir. Your generosity moves us."

For an instant, the old knight's features became solemn, almost sorrowful. Then they creased into a smile, and he said: "Now, mistress. Let's not discuss burial plans while I still expect to emerge victorious! In any case, this mountain's no less lonely a spot to me now than any other, and I'd fear the sights my ghost must witness on lower ground should this contest go another way. So no more talk of corpses, madam! Master Wistan, have you anything to ask of these friends should fortune not go your way?"

"We'll do so, sir," Axl said. "We'll seek the best for him, even though the wound he carries makes his future a dark one."

"That's well said. Now I'm reminded I must do even more to survive this meeting. Well, Sir Gawain, shall we go to it?"

"Like you, sir, I prefer not to think of defeat. Yet only a mighty fool will believe you anything other than a formidable foe, no matter your years. So I too will burden this good couple with a request. If I'm no more, please see to it Master Edwin reaches a kind village, and let him know I considered him the worthiest of apprentices."

"Yet one more request," said the old knight, "and this one to you, Master Wistan. I raise the matter with embarrassment, for it touches what we discussed with pleasure a moment ago. I mean, sir, the question of drawing the sword. With my heavy years, I find it takes a foolishly long time to pull this old weapon out of its sheath. If you and I faced each other, swords undrawn, my fear is I'd provide you with feeble entertainment, knowing how fast you draw. Why, sir, I might still be hobbling about, muttering small curses and tugging at this iron with one grip then another even as you take the air, wondering if to cut off my head or else sing an ode while waiting! Yet if we were to agree to draw our swords in our own time… Why this embarrasses me greatly, sir!"

"Not another word on it, Sir Gawain. I never think well of a warrior who leans on the speedy draw of a blade to take advantage of his opponent. So let's meet with swords ready drawn, just as you suggest."

"I thank you, sir. And in return, though I see your arm strapped, I vow not to seek any special advantage of it."

The old knight drew his sword -- indeed it seemed to take some time -- and placed the point into the ground, just as he had done earlier at the giant's cairn. But instead of leaning on it, he stood there regarding his weapon up and down with a mixture of weariness and affection. Then he took the sword in both hands and raised it -- and Gawain's posture took on an unmistakable grandeur.

"I'll turn away now, Axl," Beatrice said. "Tell me when it's finished, and let it not be long or unclean."

"Well then, sir. With your permission."

"I'm grateful, sir, though this injury's a trivial one."

At first both men held their swords pointing downwards, so as not to exhaust their arms. From his vantage point, Axl could see their positions clearly: at most five strides apart, Wistan's body angled slightly to the left away from his opponent's. They held these positions for a time, then Wistan moved three slow steps to his right, so that to all appearances, his outside shoulder was no longer protected by his sword. But to take advantage, Gawain would have had to close the gap very rapidly, and Axl was hardly surprised when the knight, gazing accusingly at the warrior, himself moved to the right with deliberate strides. Wistan meanwhile changed the grip of both his hands on his sword, and Axl could not be sure Gawain had noticed the change -- Wistan's body possibly obscuring the knight's view. But now Gawain too was changing his hold, letting the sword's weight fall from the right arm to the left. Then the two men became fixed in their new positions, and to an innocent spectator, they may have looked, in relation to one another, practically unchanged from before. Yet Axl could sense that these new positions had a different significance. It had been a long time since he had had to consider combat in such detail, and there remained a frustrating sense that he was failing to see half of what was unfolding before him. But he knew somehow the contest had reached a critical point; that things could not be held like this for long without one or the other combatant being forced to commit himself.

Even so, he was taken aback by the suddenness with which Gawain and Wistan met. It was as if they had responded to a signal: the space between them vanished, and the two were suddenly locked in tense embrace. It happened so quickly it appeared to Axl the men had abandoned their swords and were now holding one another in a complicated and mutual armlock. As they did so, they rotated a little, like dancers, and Axl could then see that their two blades, perhaps because of the huge impact of their coming together, had become melded as one. Both men, mortified by this turn of events, were now doing their best to prise the weapons apart. But this was no easy task, and the old knight's features were contorted with the effort. Wistan's face, for the moment, was not visible, but Axl could see the warrior's neck and shoulders shaking as he too did all he could to reverse the calamity. But their efforts were in vain: with each moment, the two swords seemed to fasten more thoroughly, and surely there was nothing for it but to abandon the weapons and start the contest afresh. Neither man, though, appeared willing to give up, even as the effort threatened to drain them of their strength. Then something gave and the blades came apart. As they did so, some dark grain -- perhaps the substance that had caused the blades to fasten together in the first place -- flew up into the air between them. Gawain, with a look of astonished relief, reeled halfway round and sank to one knee. Wistan, for his part, had been carried by the momentum into turning a near circle, and had come to a halt pointing his now liberated sword towards the clouds beyond the cliff, his back fully turned to the knight.

"God protect him," Beatrice said beside him, and Axl realised she had been watching all the while. When he looked down again, Gawain had lowered his other knee to the ground. Then the tall figure of the knight fell slowly, twistingly, onto the dark grass. There he struggled a moment, like a man in his sleep trying to make himself more comfortable, and when his face was turned to the sky, even though his legs were still folded untidily beneath him, Gawain seemed content. As Wistan approached with a concerned stride, the old knight appeared to say something, but Axl was too far to hear. The warrior remained standing over his opponent for some time, his sword held forgotten at his side, and Axl could see dark drops falling from the tip of the blade onto the soil.

Beatrice pressed herself against him. "He was the she-dragon's defender," she said, "yet showed us kindness. Who knows where we'd be now without him, Axl, and I'm sorry to see him fallen."

He pressed Beatrice close to him. Then releasing her, he climbed down a little way to where he could see better Gawain's body lying on the earth. Wistan had been correct: the blood had flowed only to where the ground rose in a kind of lip at the cliff's edge, and was pooling there with no danger of spilling over. The sight caused a melancholy to sweep over him, but also -- though it was a distant and vague one -- the feeling that some great anger within him had at long last been answered.

The warrior seemed then to notice the sword still in his hand, and made as though to thrust it into the soft earth at the foot of the mound. But at the last moment he stopped himself, the blade almost at the soil, and straightening, said: "Why clean this sword yet? Why not let this knight's blood mingle with the she-dragon's?"

Wistan, who had all the while been staring down at the fallen knight, now came slowly, somewhat giddily, to the foot of the mound, and when he looked up appeared to be in something of a dream.

"I learned long ago," he said, "not to fear Death as I fought. Yet I thought I heard his soft tread behind me as I faced this knight. Long in years, yet he was close to getting the better of me."

He came up the side of the mound, his gait still somewhat like a drunkard's. Brushing past them, he leant over a rock and gazed down into the pit, his shoulders moving with each breath.

"Master Wistan," Beatrice said gently. "We're now impatient to see you slay Querig. But will you bury the poor knight after? My husband here's weary and must save his strength for what remains of our journey."

"Bravo, sir," Axl called down. "Now there's nothing stands between you and the she-dragon."

"Then hurry, sir," Beatrice said, "and finish the task. For though she's feeble, we'll not be easy till we know she's slain."

"Are you well, sir?" Axl asked eventually.

But Wistan seemed no longer to hear her, for he was now gazing at Axl with a faraway expression.

"He was a kin of the hated Arthur," Wistan said, turning to her, "yet I'll not leave him to the crows. Rest assured, mistress, I'll see to him, and may even lay him down in this pit, beside the creature he so long defended."

"Master Axl," the warrior said, "we may not meet again. So let me ask one last time. Could you be that gentle Briton from my boyhood who once moved like a wise prince through our village, making men dream of ways to keep innocents beyond the reach of war? If you have a remembrance of it, I ask you to confide in me before we part."

"If I was that man, sir, I see him today only through the haze of this creature's breath, and he looks a fool and a dreamer, yet one who meant well, and suffered to see solemn oaths undone in cruel slaughter. There were others spread the treaty through the Saxon villages, but if my face stirs something in you, why suppose it was another's?"

"What are you saying, husband?" Beatrice pushed forward, placing herself between Axl and the warrior. "What quarrel can there be between you and this warrior? If there is one, he'll need strike me first."

"I thought it when we first met, sir, but couldn't be sure. I thank you for your frankness."

"That man was one I once adored from afar, and it's true there were times later I wished him cruelly punished for his part in the betrayal. Yet I see today he may have acted with no cunning, wishing well for his own kin and ours alike. If I met him again, sir, I'd bid him go in peace, even though I know peace now can't hold for long. But excuse me, friends, and let me go down and end my errand."

"Then speak frankly to me in turn, for it's a thing shifts within me since our meeting yesterday, and perhaps, in truth, for far longer. This man you remember, Master Wistan. Is he one of whom you would seek vengeance?"

"Master Wistan talks of a skin I shed before we two ever met, princess. One I hoped had long crumbled on a forgotten path." Then to Wistan: "What do you say, sir? Your sword still drips. If it's vengeance you crave, it's a thing easily found, though I beg you protect my dear wife who trembles for me."

Down in the pit, neither the dragon's position nor posture had changed: if her senses were warning her of the proximity of strangers -- and of one in particular making his way down the steep side of the pit -- Querig gave no indication of it. Or could it be the rise and fall of her spine had become a little more pronounced? And was there a new urgency in the hooded eye as it opened and shut? Axl could not be sure. But as he continued to gaze down at the creature, the idea came to him that the hawthorn bush -- the only other thing alive in the pit -- had become a source of great comfort to her, and that even now, in her mind's eye, she was reaching for it. Axl realised the idea was fanciful, yet the more he watched, the more credible it seemed. For how was it a solitary bush was growing in a place like this? Could it not be that Merlin himself had allowed it to grow here, so that the dragon would have a companion?

Wistan was continuing his descent, his sword still unsheathed. His gaze rarely strayed from the spot where the creature lay, as if he half expected her to rise suddenly, transformed into a formidable demon. At one stage he slipped, and dug his sword into the ground to avoid sliding some way down on his backside. This episode sent stones and gravel cascading down the slope, but Querig still gave no response.

Then Wistan was safely on the ground. He wiped his forehead, glanced up at Axl and Beatrice, then moved towards the dragon, stopping several strides away. He then raised his sword and began to scrutinise the blade, apparently taken aback to discover it streaked with blood. For several moments, Wistan remained like this, not moving, so that Axl wondered if the strange mood that had overtaken the warrior since his victory had momentarily made him forget his reason for entering the pit.

But then with something of the unexpectedness that had characterised his contest with the old knight, Wistan suddenly moved forward. He did not run, but walked briskly, stepping over the dragon's body without breaking stride, and hurried on as though anxious to reach the other side of the pit. But his sword had described a swift, low arc in passing, and Axl saw the dragon's head spin into the air and roll a little way before coming to rest on the stony ground. It did not remain there long, however, for it was soon engulfed by the rich tide that first parted around it, then buoyed it up till it swam glidingly across the floor of the pit. It came to a stop at the hawthorn, where it lodged, the throat up to the sky. The sight brought back to Axl the head of the monster dog Gawain had severed in the tunnel, and again a melancholy threatened to sweep over him. He made himself look away from the dragon, and watch instead the figure of Wistan, who had not stopped walking. The warrior was now circling back, avoiding the ever-spreading pool, and then with his sword still unsheathed, began the climb out of the pit.

"It is, princess. Yet there's still a question I wish to ask this warrior."

Wistan took a surprisingly long time to climb out of the pit. When at last he appeared before them again, he looked overwhelmed and not in the least triumphant. Without a word, he sat down on the blackened ground right on the rim of the pit, and at last thrust his sword deep into the earth. Then he gazed emptily, not into the pit, but beyond, at the clouds and the pale hills in the distance.

"Despondent? No matter, I'll regain my spirit soon, mistress. Yet just at this moment…" Wistan turned away from Beatrice and once more gazed at the clouds. Then he said: "Perhaps I've been too long among you Britons. Despised the cowardly among you, admired and loved the best of you, and all from a tender age. And now I sit here, shaking not from weariness, but at the very thought of what my own hands have done. I must soon steel my heart or be a frail warrior for my king in what's to come."

"It's done, Axl," Beatrice said.

After a moment, Beatrice went over to him and touched his arm gently. "We thank you for this deed, Master Wistan," she said. "And there'll be many more across the land would thank you if they were here. Why look so despondent?"

"It's justice and vengeance await, mistress. And they'll soon hurry this way, for both are much delayed. Yet now the hour's almost upon us, I find my heart trembles like a maid's. It can only be I've been too long among you."

"What is this you speak of, sir?" Beatrice asked. "What further task awaits you now?"

"I didn't fail to notice, sir," Axl said, "your earlier remark to me. You said you'd wish me to go in peace, yet that peace couldn't hold much longer. I wondered then what you meant by it, even as you descended into this pit. Will you explain yourself to us now?"

"I see you begin to understand, Master Axl. My king sent me to destroy this she-dragon not simply to build a monument to kin slain long ago. You begin to see, sir, this dragon died to make ready the way for the coming conquest."

"Conquest, sir?" Axl moved closer to him. "How can this be, Master Wistan? Are your Saxon armies so swelled by your cousins from overseas? Or is it that your warriors are so fierce you talk of conquest in lands well held in peace?"

"Surely you speak in the confusion of your victory, Master Wistan," Beatrice said. "How can this be? You see yourself how in these parts it's your kin and mine mingle village by village. Who among them would turn on neighbours loved since childhood?"

"It's true our armies are yet meagre in numbers, even in the fenlands. Yet look across this whole land. In every valley, beside every river, you'll now find Saxon communities, and each with strong men and growing boys. It's from these we'll swell our ranks even as we come sweeping westward."

"Yet see your husband's face, mistress. He begins to understand why I sit here as before a light too fierce for my gaze."

"Right enough, princess, the warrior's words make me tremble. You and I longed for Querig's end, thinking only of our own dear memories. Yet who knows what old hatreds will loosen across the land now? We must hope God yet finds a way to preserve the bonds between our peoples, yet custom and suspicion have always divided us. Who knows what will come when quick-tongued men make ancient grievances rhyme with fresh desire for land and conquest?"

"Can he be right, Axl? Surely he speaks in a fever?"

"He may yet be mistaken, princess, but this is no fever. The she-dragon's no more, and Arthur's shadow will fade with her." Then to Wistan, he said: "I'm comforted at least, sir, to find you take no delight in these horrors you paint."

"How right to fear it, sir," Wistan said. "The giant, once well buried, now stirs. When soon he rises, as surely he will, the friendly bonds between us will prove as knots young girls make with the stems of small flowers. Men will burn their neighbours' houses by night. Hang children from trees at dawn. The rivers will stink with corpses bloated from their days of voyaging. And even as they move on, our armies will grow larger, swollen by anger and thirst for vengeance. For you Britons, it'll be as a ball of fire rolls towards you. You'll flee or perish. And country by country, this will become a new land, a Saxon land, with no more trace of your people's time here than a flock or two of sheep wandering the hills untended."

"You speak of Master Edwin, sir?"

"I'd take delight if I could, Master Axl, for it'll be vengeance justly served. Yet I'm enfeebled by my years among you, and try as I will, a part of me turns from the flames of hatred. It's a weakness shames me, yet I'll soon offer in my place one trained by my own hand, one with a will far cleaner than mine."

"I do, and I dare say he'll be growing quickly more calm now the dragon's slain and her pull gone from him. That boy has a true warrior's spirit given only to a few. The rest he'll learn fast enough, and I'll train his heart well to admit no soft sentiments as have invaded mine. He'll show no mercy in our work ahead."

"Master Wistan," Beatrice said, "I still don't know if you speak only in a mad fever. But my husband and I grow weak, and must return to lower ground and shelter. Will you remember your promise to bury well the gentle knight?"

"I promise to do so, mistress, though I fear even now the birds find him. Good friends, forewarned as you are, you've time enough to escape. Take the knight's horse and ride fast from these parts. Seek your son's village if you must, but linger there no more than a day or two, for who knows how soon the flames will be lit before our coming armies. If your son will not hear your warnings, leave him and flee as far west as you can. You may yet keep ahead of the slaughter. Go now and find the knight's horse. And should you find Master Edwin much calmed, his strange fever passed, cut him free and bid him come up here to me. A fierce future now opens before him, and it's my wish he sees this place, the fallen knight and the broken she-dragon, all before his next steps. Besides, I recall how well he digs a grave with a stray stone or two! Now hurry away, gentle friends, and farewell."