Grayle knelt in the shelter of the great north transept of Exeter Cathedral, his head lowered in silent prayer. The first sight of the vaulted ceiling of the completed section of the building had left him awestruck, even though the Cathedral was only partially complete. The nave, where he knelt, was still bare of tapestries and paintings that would one day adorn its walls, but the sheer architectural splendour had had a massive impact on the trainee knight.

As he finished his prayer, he sat back on one of the rough wooden pews, and drank in the sight of the sun streaming in through the giant stained glass window. The gentling evening light projected onto his face in a myriad of rainbow colours as the sun went down, the natural orange light filtered and changed, cascading around him like a waterfall.

"God's work is magnificent indeed isn't it my son? It's a beautiful evening."

The softly spoken words jolted Grayle from his reverie, and he started to rise from his seat. A strong hand on his shoulder kept him seated, and he looked up into the dark eyes of a large man in full church finery. He made to sink to his knees but was again restrained by the firm hand on his shoulder.

"There is no need to kneel before me as there is no one here but us. But I would like to join you if I may. You seem to have chosen the best seat in the house."

Grayle nodded mutely as the Bishop of Exeter sat next to him, his eyes intent on the sunset.

"It will take us many years to finish," he said eventually. "But I think it will be worth it."

He proferred his hand and looked at Grayle. "David," he introduced himself. "And you are?"

"Grayle. Grandson of King Mark of Tintagel, I'm honoured to meet you, Your Grace." he replied formally.

"Ah, I wondered from your dress whom you might be. You are obviously the scion of a well to do house, and yet you do not carry arms. You are a knight in training perhaps?"

"Yes, Your..." Grayle paused as the Bishop waved an admonishing finger, the large man grinning broadly at him.

"Um... David," he continued. "As the guards explained at the gate, I am not allowed to bear arms within the city walls until I have completed my training. Until then, I obey the rules along with all other visitors. I hope to be presented formally to King Arthur soon though when my father deems me ready."

"But..." added David looking into his eyes.

Grayle looked startled, the unbidden 'but' always hovering forever silent on his lips, and then impulsively decided to trust the man. "I just wish sometimes I could train, and serve God."

Grayle cast his eyes to the floor. It was not something he had admitted to Percival or Mark, for fear of offending or upsetting them. As eventual heir to the Cornish throne, he would be expected to become ruler of the Kingdom of Kernow at some point in the future.

"You can serve the Lord in many ways, my son," stated David quietly. "Sometimes we have to fight for what we believe in, and even stoop to using the weapons of evil to do so. As long as you hold God in your heart and fight for good, I believe you will serve him well.

"Something to think on perhaps. Now, my young friend, would you do an old fat man a favour and escort me home? We seem to be losing the last remaining light."

David rose from his seat, lifting his staff of office from beside him where he had leant it against the pew. "My quarters are on the other side of the square, and I believe we are expected by your father and grandfather, who have kindly agreed to meet with me."

Grayle rose from his seat and smiled at the man. "Thank you for your kind words David, I will consider them in my prayers."

"Come on lad, my stomach is rumbling and my housekeeper is a wonderful woman, who cooks marvelous food: roasted fowl awaits us."

The two men walked companionably across the Cathedral green, the Bishop still talking about food. As they walked, Grayle noticed he seemed to use the staff less as a walking stick, and more as a way of pointing out interesting things as he wandered along. Although being well past middle age and somewhat corpulent, the man still moved well, despite an obviously damaged leg, and carried himself alertly.

As they approached the Bishop's quarters, the man turned to Grayle and opened his mouth to ask a question, only to be halted by a piercing scream from the shadows at the rear of the partially completed cathedral building. Grayle spun around looking for the source of the noise and noticed a group of men struggling with a slender form by one of the scaffold covered main buttresses to the north wall.

Without thinking, he took off like a hare towards the source of the sound. Another scream rent the still evening air as he ran, his white clothing plainly visible in the waning evening light. A glint of steel flashed in the shadows, and the girl stilled in terror as the blade was pressed to her throat.

"Put down the knife," shouted Grayle as he approached. He could see more clearly now as his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the shadows; there were four attackers, one held a knife to the girl's throat, the other three turned to face him, spreading out as he drew close.

One approached, an evil grin twisting his face into a sneer, his eyes darkened pools of malice in the poor light. "Bugger off boy, you can do nothing. Take your fat friend and disappear. We intend to have a little fun here, and all you can do is get hurt."

Grayle could hear the Bishop puffing his way across the green behind him, slowed by his leg. He was more intent however, on the figure of the woman in the shadows who, with the knife at her throat, had been rendered powerless as one of the men ripped feverishly at her clothing.

Thinking desperately, he removed his leather belt, wrapping one end around his fist. Normally the belt would have carried his dagger and scabbard, but it now provided a small defence against an attack. The buckle swinging loosely on its short leash, Grayle faced the man, watching his movements and looking for an opening.

"If you're thinking of joining in, or doing something foolish, I would take the hint and go aw....." the end of the sentence was stopped abruptly, as Grayle whipped the dangling belt buckle across the face of the man with the knife, a dark spray of blood visible in the air as the man screamed in agony. Grayle took a step forwards, planted a foot deep into the man's groin, and punched him in the side of the head as he fell, knocking him cold.

"Well done lad," puffed David as he joined him. "Right, let's sort these ruffians out shall we." He grinned fiercely at the boy and then whirled his ministerial staff into action as two of the remaining three footpads rushed them.

One immediately fell to the floor, the wind knocked out of him as the Bishop's wooden staff of office planted itself firmly in his belly. Grayle blocked a clumsy knife thrust with a forearm, and punched hard and precisely, breaking his opponent's nose, then smashed him off his feet with a second blow to the side of the jaw. Three men down, Grayle turned to see the fourth man walking calmly towards him, brandishing a long hunting knife. He was tall, broad, and had an evil-looking scar running down his face, a face that held the confident look of a born brawler. Keeping his eyes on the man, Grayle bent down and picked up the fallen knife from the first man he had downed, preparing himself to meet the attack of the longer and far more dangerous hunting knife. But, as the man raised his blade to attack, a foot suddenly appeared between his legs from behind, doubling him over, and the Bishop swiftly stepped forwards and clattered his staff across the man's head, rendering him unconscious.

As the man fell senseless to the ground, the owner of the delicately placed foot appeared from behind him. Grayle's mouth opened in sudden wonder, as a young woman, desperately trying to hold her tattered dress in place, smiled grimly at him, tears standing in her eyes.

David moved past the stunned youth and swept his cloak off his shoulders to enfold the now weeping girl in a massive hug, enveloping her in the warm folds.

"How many times have I told you not to walk unaccompanied across here in the evening?" he chastised softly.

"I'm sorry Uncle, they caught me unawares."

As David comforted the girl, several members of the town guard appeared to investigate the hue and cry, and Grayle found himself explaining the situation to them. David had a very brief word with them, and escorted the girl the remaining few yards to his house, talking to her in a reassuring tone. Grayle, not knowing what else to do, followed numbly in his wake, gathering the Bishop's staff, and putting his belt back on as the guards cleared up the detritus from the recent fight.

As they reached the house, the girl was whisked away by the housekeeper, who muttered darkly about young girls not having any sense, and then the door closed, leaving David and Grayle alone in the hallway.

David put his hand on Grayle's shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. "Thank you, lad. You are a credit to your house, and your father. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"I think I owe you one too, Your Grace. I couldn't have done that on my own."

"As of now lad, I really must insist that you call me David, none of this official nonsense." He smiled. "You fight well."

"You're not too bad yourself David," noted Grayle. "Uncle?" he questioned.

"Ah yes, my niece, Iseult. Her parents died a few years ago, and she lives with me now: a good girl, although prone to disobedience and solitary walks.

"Before we go in and meet the others, I'd like to give you something to mull over. Have you heard of the Church Knights?"

Grayle nodded and David carried on. "They always need talented sons of the church to join them. I myself was a Knight until I was called to a different office. My fondness for food may also have had something to do with it." David smiled and patted his large waist happily. "As Bishop, I can recommend anyone I think worthy. You would serve the church and your country. You may marry, but only with the permission of the church, and you will receive land and an income.

"There is significant scope for study and you are certainly more than welcome to use my library while you're here, and that of the Cathedral. You will also get to make the pilgrimage to the Holy Land, protecting those of the faithful who make the journey with you. The only prerequisites are that you are a trained knight and believe in God. Think on it, it might provide you with some way of achieving what we talked about earlier on."

Grayle smiled his thanks, his thoughts suddenly whirling with possibility.

"Well lad, I think we'd better go and see the rest of your clan in the Round Room, we are meant to be meeting with them after all. And over dinner, I believe we have a tale to tell them."

David clapped a meaty arm around Grayle's shoulders, and the two of them moved towards the smell of dinner wafting invitingly along the hall.