As the column of men, horses, and wagons drew into the main palisade, Merlin stalked out of the command tent, his face drawn and angry. He flicked them a small nod of recognition in passing and disappeared from view. Mark, his face taut with annoyance followed but seeing the new arrivals he changed direction to talk to them, his face relaxing into a smile.

"Welcome gentlemen to the biggest and oldest pile of mud in the country." There was a bitter edge to Mark's words, and Percival gave him a worried look as he dismounted. He embraced his father and noted with pride the white cross of Cornwall on a black pennant fluttering from the pole at the top of the tent.

"Come inside my canvas castle gentlemen, Morholt will sort out your horses and arrange the men you've brought with you."

Minutes later, Mark, Percival, Grayle, Gawain, Daniel, and David sat around a rickety wooden table in Mark's command tent. After Gawain had been introduced to Mark, Percival outlined recent events at Camelot. Once Mark was satisfied he was fully apprised of current affairs, he started to discuss the situation within the camp.

"We have yet to start digging in the mound, other than to raise fortifications. Merlin seems to be waiting for a sign or something that will help him decide what needs to be done. Meanwhile, as you can see, we have utilised both the miners and the soldiers to fortify the camp, and we have started arranging the materials we'll need to start the dig. All we need now is to decide where."

"And that is something we will decide now," said Merlin grumpily as he stomped back into the tent unannounced. "I need you three with me." He pointed in turn to Gawain, Grayle, and finally Daniel, who visibly shrank back from the gnarled finger.

"Come on children, I haven't got all day."

Grayle stood, his eyes afire with curiosity and followed the old man outside, Gawain and Daniel followed in his wake. Mark's eyes lifted to the heavens as Percival chuckled.

As the rest of them left the tent, they joined a bemused crowd of onlookers as Merlin gave orders in peremptory fashion to the three he'd pulled from the tent.

"Now, stand here and hold hands in a circle. I will stand in the middle. Don't be an idiot boy," Merlin scolded Gawain who had crossed his arms. "I'm asking you to hold hands, not dance a jig."

They stood in the centre of the compound, Merlin with his hands raised and eyes shut as the three young men closed a slightly embarrassed circle of linked arms around him. Abruptly, the old man's eyes opened and he smiled grimly, ignoring the growing crowd of interested men who surrounded them.

"There," he said, pointing towards the summit of the hill.

"Cadan!" he shouted, and the mining foreman ambled over to him, as did Mark, Percival, and David.

"We dig there, at the top of the hill. Will you join me?"

"Of course, my Lord," said the heavyset man, and followed Merlin up the grassy slope.

"Merlin!" called Mark. "Are you serious? You want to tunnel downwards from the summit?"

"I don't know yet," came the faint reply from the receding form of the old man.

"Blasted, awkward, cantankerous, pig-headed...." Mark marched up after the old man, swearing under his breath, each footfall prompting a fresh expletive. The other men in the party trailed after them looking puzzled and amused by turn.

As they reached the top, Merlin, seemingly unaffected by the brisk climb, pulled out a slender forked stick made of freshly cut hazel and wandered around seemingly at random across the top of the mound.

"What the hell is he doing now?" muttered Mark.

"'e's divinin', my King," came the quiet voice of Cadan next to him.

"He trying my patience," muttered the king darkly.

"Oh, stop your chuntering man," grumbled Merlin, "I'm almost done. Aha!"

He stopped dead as the hazel branch twisted violently in his hands. Marking the point with a rock, he moved away from the spot in the mound that had provoked such a violent reaction in his Y shaped stick, and approached the mark from another direction, stopping several yards short of the previous location. By approaching from several more compass points, Merlin quickly marked out a rough circle on the ground about twelve feet across, smiled in satisfaction at Mark, and then addressed Cadan.

"Well my mining friend, this is where we start. Are your men ready?"

"It's better 'n diggin' ditches, my Lord," he noted, prompting another dark look from Mark. "I'll bring up the lads, and we'll make a start."

As Cadan walked unhurriedly away from the group, Mark approached Merlin. "Are you sure about this Merlin?"

Merlin gave the worried looking King a rare smile. "You worry too much, my liege," he said and patted the bearded cheek of the king, then wandered away humming to himself.

"There are times when I could quite cheerfully throttle some people," Mark muttered and turned to look at the grinning faces surrounding him.

"I don't know what the hell you lot think you're smiling at?" He took a deep breath. "Right, let's get things moving!" he roared, barking orders at the assembled men. "Back to work! Percival, you will now take charge of the men, the patrols and training. Gawain, Grayle, you will assist. Morholt will be in charge of the camp. David, Daniel, I need you to provide some support and organisation to this rabble, if you would be so kind. Let's get this show on the road."

A ragged chorus of "yes, my King" echoed around the top of the hill and Mark nodded in satisfaction. "Right, let's get digging."

~

A week later, the top of the hill was a very different place. After consultation with Mark and Merlin, Cadan had efficiently stripped the area of turf and topsoil and had then proceeded to take off the top part of the cone of the hill to make the working area flat, using the materials to form low defensive breastworks near the top of hill.

"It's a bit like taking the top off a boiled egg," remarked Merlin as he discussed the situation with the leaders of the group over breakfast one morning. Mark, Percival, Grayle, David, Daniel, Gawain, Cadan and Morholt met most mornings to discuss progress, patrols and camp news, so as to plan the day's events.

"We've leveled most of the top area now, and have finished the defensive bank just below the original summit of the hill. This has created a working area of about fifty yards across. Just behind the turf bank, Cadan has used the remaining materials to form a second defensive bank which is more vertical and if necessary could be used as a small fort although it could do with some good stone to make it a little more solid. This will be added to as we carry on, but it's a good start for now. Steps have been cut in the slope leading from this position to the summit, and a winch system using some of the pack animals has been constructed, from my own design, which will drag materials to the summit in small carts. I know it's taken a little while to set up Mark, but it will speed things up in the long run."

"Well done Merlin," said Mark, "and Cadan, my thanks to you too. You have both worked miracles in a short time, despite a slightly grumpy monarch being in charge."

"Should've bought more bacon," whispered Grayle to Percival, who covered his mouth with a hand to disguise a smile.

"I may be grumpy grandson, but my hearing is still intact."

Grayle looked abashed for a few seconds but grinned again as Mark added, "but I do miss my bacon."

"And that brings me neatly on to the subject of camp. Morholt, over to you."

"Thank you, my King," started Morholt. "Stores are good, although we have run out of a few things; bacon obviously, but we have plenty of staple rations, and the scouts bring in some fresh game to supplement things. We are expecting another supply train in a week or so from Camelot. I'll send out a couple of reliable soldiers to meet them and guide them in nearer the time.

"As my Lord Merlin has said, we have a strong perimeter here at the base of the hill, and the fort at the top is nearing completion. The work is keeping the men busy and fit which is good, and that exercise combined with regular patrols and drills is keeping them occupied.

"With the men from Camelot you brought with you, Sir Percival, we now have one hundred and fifty fighting men, twenty ancillaries including camp cooks, fletchers, a smith, pot boys, stable hands and several trackers, your good selves, and of course Cadan and his twenty strong band of diggers. Almost two hundred souls gentlemen that need feeding, but above all need to be kept busy and tired enough to be happily knackered, but not so tired that if the Saxons arrive to join the party they can't fight them off. There have been a few brief scraps between the men, but a few hours with Cadan usually convinces them that being good is better than being in the Pit."

"Ah yes, the infamous Pit," said Mark, smiling at Cadan. "How're getting on with that gentlemen?"

Cadan inclined his head at Merlin, prompting him to speak. The big man wasn't really comfortable yet with the members of the group, feeling out of his depth in the company of a bishop, several round table knights and various well to do nobles. He had however formed a strong bond with Merlin, who despite his awesome reputation had quickly demonstrated to Cadan that he was a practical man with a firm grasp of engineering principles and practice.

Merlin smiled thinly and spoke to the small group of men. "We're benefiting hugely from Cadan's mining expertise and, with a bit of engineering I've picked up on my travels, we have rigged up an efficient, balanced 'A' frame crane, that helps remove the spoil. Cadan has suggested a round shaft due to the potential for collapsing ground and I have agreed. It will take a little longer to construct, but it will be more stable, and safer. We are currently only about four feet below the main working area, which was lowered by about six feet from the original top of the cone, but we are progressing well."

"Good to know we're making some progress," said Mark smiling. "Now then my son, what's happening out there?" Mark looked at Percival who rose and addressed the table.

"We're running regular patrols out into the countryside in all directions, but focussing more in the east to south arc, where we suspect we'll catch first sight of the Saxons. If, of course, they're coming to join us, although I suspect that that might be a given, judging by one of the messages we received from King Arthur yesterday. The Saxons maimed his most recent messenger, sending him back tied to his horse with his tongue cut out. I think we can assume talking is out of the question and fighting will be next. It's now a case of where and when. I suspect 'where' might well be here."

Percival looked grim for a moment and carried on in a somber tone. "The fletchers have been busy, the smithy is running smoothly, and we have a good store of arrows, spearheads and bolts for the ballistae. Merlin has designed and built one ballista so far, with two more under construction. Several of the Tintagel and Camelot soldiers have siege weapons experience and have been useful in the construction process. We are prepared, but the longer we have, the more prepared we will be. If we're lucky, we will get the treasure, and be able to run away before Hengist and his unruly mob arrive here.

"Run away?" questioned Gawain. "Do we not want to fight?"

"Discretion is the better part of valour," noted Percival. "Besides, I'd rather fight either one on one or hit and run, than be stuck behind a wooden wall or some hastily thrown up breastworks."

"Oh come on son, where's your sense of fun?" Mark smiled at him and looked at Gawain. "Don't worry lad you'll get a fight. And ignore him," he pointed at Percival. "You can't beat a good siege."

"We've run out of bacon," Grayle reminded him.

"Then go out and find some more boy, make your grandfather happy. An army marches on its stomach, and I fight better with bacon in mine."

There was a subtle cough from Morholt, and Mark turned to see one of the sentries standing at the open flap of the command tent.

"The scouts have returned Sir," said the sentry, "you wanted me to let you know."

"With your permission, my King?" Mark nodded and Morholt carried on talking to the sentry. "Please bring them straight in Gareth, thank you."

Seconds later, two scouts dressed in camouflaging greens and browns entered the tent, bowing to the assembled men.

Morholt spoke anew. "My Lords, this is Carne and Jowan." He gestured to each of the men in turn. Both men wore the white cross of Tintagel and were dark, tall, weathered, and hard looking men in their thirties, the only main difference in appearance was the infectious smile of Jowan, who seemed immensely happy to be in the presence of his king. Carne however remained taciturn.

"Welcome gentlemen," said Mark. "Please report."

Jowan, visibly bubbling with enthusiasm, spoke first. "Yes, my King. Well, we've been scouting to the south; so far we've been furthest from the camp, and have been leaving sign for the trackers and scouts behind us, occasionally passing along messages to take back and so on. Up until a few days ago, we'd not seen a thing. But yesterday we saw something different. We've been taking it steady, making sure that we weren't going to be seen by anyone and are always careful not to reveal ourselves to locals either. Anyway..."

"What my friend is trying to say," broke in Carne abruptly, "is that we've spotted enemy scouts to the southeast, about eighty miles away. Not far behind them is a large force of warriors, probably around two thousand fighting men, with all the ancillaries plodding along behind them."

"Lots of warriors," added Jowan, still smiling at Mark for some odd reason, despite the bad news.

"How long?" said Mark grimly.

"I reckon five days to a week, my King. They're still in Saxon lands at the moment, heading towards the western point opposite the Whyte Isle. I think they'll mass there, and then, once they've got themselves ready, they'll strike north to head for this place. The scouts of theirs we've seen have certainly been looking up in this direction. We'll keep an eye on them."

Carne lapsed into silence as the news sank into the men seated before them.

Morholt dismissed the trackers and they sat in grim silence for a while, before Mark spoke again.

"Right then gentlemen. It seems we're under some pressure. We have a week at the most to get ourselves defensively ready. During that period we need to do our utmost to find the treasure, and get it out and away back to Camelot. Your orders, gentlemen, are as follows.

"Percival, send messengers to Arthur informing him of our situation. Then, you, Gawain, and Grayle need to keep the men on their toes. Drill them, shore up the defences, practice defensive manoeuvres, and make sure the archers and ballistae operators are aware of their field of fire. Get Camlan involved too, he's experienced enough in fighting to get them drilling properly, and probably has siege experience too.

"Percival, you are in charge of the patrols and men in the field. Morholt, you will keep running the camp from day to day. Merlin, Cadan, keep those men digging, we need to find that treasure as quickly as we can.

"Your Grace, you and Daniel are to support the men, keep them feeling blessed. Merlin can deal with the pagans amongst us. But, above all gentlemen, I suggest you offer up a few prayers to the deity of your choice. Time to hope and pray gentlemen: pray we get through this one in one piece."