The rope above them creaked ominously as they descended, a reminder of the slender thread keeping them from plummeting into the depths of the Pit.

Iseult clung to Grayle with her free hand, her grip painful on his arm as the circle of light above them got smaller and smaller, only the anaemic light of the lamp providing any barrier against the darkness that threatened to swamp them. From above, the discordant sound of fighting echoed faintly down the shaft, the screams of the dying mingling with the clash of steel, and shouts of the fighters.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Iseult.

"We are reacting to one of Merlin's feelings," whispered Grayle. "He brought me down here when they first cleared the shaft. It seems like an eternity ago now what with all that's happened, but this is where we found the treasure. Two of the chambers at the east and west contained the Dragon hoard Merlin had prophesied. Arthur came down here too, and that's when they found the Dragon Blessed weapon: the southern chamber was a tomb."

"Yes, but why are we being sent down here now?"

"I can only assume Merlin thinks the time is right for the northern chamber to be looked at."

"But what's in it?"

Their feet hit the base of the shaft and Grayle spoke sombrely into the gloom. "We're about to find out."

~

As Arthur hurried towards the defences, another flight of arrows sped from the raised platform in the centre of the upper fort, prompting a roar of apprehension and fear from the advancing Saxons, followed shortly after by the repeated thudding sound of arrows hitting raised shields.

"Guinevere! Reduce your fire for a while, let them think we've run out of arrows," he shouted up at his wife who waved her acknowledgment. The arrow fire reduced suddenly and, at a shouted order from the Saxon commanders, the blond-braided warriors flooded forwards, powering up the slope as a few desultory bow shots headed skywards.

Arthur reached the southern edge of the circular fort, joining Mark on the step to peer over the wall at the incoming mass of men. He raised a hand above his head, sword in hand as if raised in challenge. He looked over his shoulder at his wife who raised her hand to acknowledge his intention and, as he roared in defiance at the Saxons, prompting an answering roar from the defenders, he dropped his hand and Guinevere behind him shouted the order. The front rank of the Saxons dropped like a stone, scythed down like new-mown hay. Guinevere had staged the archers, producing a rolling and continuous arrow barrage that took down several ranks of the incoming army before their shields were raised again.

Arthur, looked about, casting around for a particular figure. "Elyan!" he called and the boy appeared beside him dressed in a pot helm and ill-fitting chainmail vest. "Go to Queen Guinevere and ask her how many arrows and ballistae bolts she has left, report back to me as quickly as you can."

"Yes, sir!" the boy said and sped away.

"Mark, how're we doing?"

"We're about to get attacked Arthur!"

"I know that. I meant how many are we facing?"

"I think there's still well over a thousand of them, they're getting confident now, look."

Mark pointed to the rear of the advancing force where Hengist could be seen striding up the hill, his standard bearers carrying the fluttering flags showing Hengist's wolf's head banner marching either side of him. Morgause, dressed in a light leather jerkin and trews walked up beside him. Hengist was shouting, exhorting his troops onwards to victory.

"Well, things are about to get interesting," said Arthur. "All we can hope for now is Sir Bedivere and Sir Bors turn up with the men from the south coast."

Elyan appeared next to his elbow. "Sir, the Queen says they are down to a quiver each bowman, with only a few ballistae bolts left. "Orders sir?"

"Tell her to stand down for now lad, if she sees an opportunity she is to use it, but until then, I think we're hand to hand. Once you've delivered that order, stay with Guinevere please."

Elyan remained quiet.

"Elyan?"

"Permission to stay here sir?"

"Denied," Arthur leaned down and spoke quietly to him. "I need you to protect the Queen and Iseult lad, please. You are the last line of defence, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," said Elyan sullenly and ran off to the queen without looking back.

"Good lad that," said Mark brusquely, unclipping his mace from his belt. "Cross weapons for luck Arthur?"

"Aye," said Arthur, touching Excalibur to the solid-looking mace. "Let's pound some heads."

~

"This one?" said Iseult quietly, touching the carved pillars at the north side of the chamber.

"Yes," said Grayle. "The others are empty, and I have no idea what to do other than break into this one, and see what we find. Merlin seems to think whatever we do will have some impact on what's going on, so I think we need to get on with it."

He reached up and started removing the stones blocking the narrow gap between the massive vertical pillars, handing the blocks to Iseult who stacked them to one side. He lifted the lantern to the gap and looked back at Iseult with a finger to his lips, his face pale in the flickering light of the shaft. He motioned her to the other side of the shaft and spoke as quietly as he could into her ear.

"It's an old barrel vault," he breathed. "The roof is composed of interlocking stones, but it's badly deformed, and some of the blocks look like they're about to drop out. It's much larger than the other chambers for some reason and it's very dusty. If one of those blocks falls, the whole ceiling could come down. We'll need to be really quiet, only talk out here."

Iseult nodded.

"Do you want to stay here?"

"No," she hissed, "we've only got one light. You stay here."

He grinned at her. "All right, we'll go in together." He held out a hand and they moved into the last chamber.

~

Mark roared in anger as a Saxon warrior appeared in front of him, the man's axe burying itself in the rim of his shield, making his stump ache in sympathy. The Cornish king's mace crumpled the man's helmet and he disappeared from view, instantly replaced by another warrior who Arthur removed with a brutal backhand of Excalibur. In the brief lull that followed, Mark, breathing heavily, stepped down from the wall, motioning a soldier over to help him remove the axe still clamped in the wood of his shield.

"Find me a new shield please soldier," he said, fumbling with the straps.

"Yes, sir."

Mark released the damaged shield and looked around the compound, assessing the situation. Cadan and a few miners still waited by the Pit, looking anxiously into the depths. Guinevere and her archers stood waiting on the raised platform, making all targets count with the few remaining arrows they had. Merlin stood watching with hooded eyes at the carnage surrounding them. There was fighting on all sides now, the Saxons had them circled, and even Percival was battling despite his injured arm, the sling bound tightly to his body to keep it out of the way. He had found a pike from somewhere and was using its length to great effect as a stabbing weapon. As Mark watched, the pike was snatched from Percival's hands, and his son drew his bastard sword, hacking at an enemy soldier with a massive overhand blow. David was battling still on the other side of the compound, holding the western side by sheer presence, singing a hymn in his booming voice, blood streaming down his face from a cut on his forehead, his hammer smiting any head appearing over the parapet. The combination of his churchlike garb and warlike persona seemed to be having a deleterious effect on the morale of the warriors attacking, and they shied away from him, preferring to attack either side of the corpulent churchman.

The soldier arrived and helped him strap on a replacement shield. "Thank you, please go and relieve Joss to the north, tell him Mark suggests a backup squad to plug any gaps, as we did in the lower fort, I think we may need it soon."

"Yes sir," the man replied and ran to the northern side of the compound as Mark made his way back to join Arthur.

~

As Grayle and Iseult made their way into the vault, their feet disturbed centuries of dust that had filtered down through the small cracks and chinks between the blocks forming the roof. They moved as carefully as possible, heading for the rear wall of the chamber where a package lay shrouded in dust. Iseult pulled out a couple of kerchiefs, motioning to tie them over their mouths. Thus attired, they reached the rear of the chamber, Grayle passing the lantern to Iseult.

A long, dust-covered, and tubular shape lay against the wall, and Grayle reached forwards, gently lifting the package from its resting place. It was awkward, but not overly heavy, and he lifted it, freezing as a piece of metal hit the stone floor with a clank. Both of them stood immobile and watched in horror as a fine stream of dust fell from between a few of the stones in the roof. After a few seconds, the trickle stopped, and both breathed out slowly, aware only afterward that they'd been holding their breath in trepidation.

Grayle tapped Iseult on the shoulder and motioned to the gap in the pillars, both of them moving quickly to try and escape the choking dust spreading through the chamber. As they made it into the shaft, both took off their masks, breathing heavily with relief.

"We're not out yet," said Grayle quietly. "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh yes," said Iseult. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

"What was that for?" he said, "not that I'm complaining of course."

"For luck, come on let's get the hell out of here, this place is scaring me."

"Aye, me too."

The two of them made their way back to the bosun's chair, holding the package between them. Having only one hand spare, Grayle placed the lantern in the empty eastern chamber rather than try and carry it back up to the surface, and pulled the guide rope three times in signal. After a few seconds, the chair began to rise back up the shaft towards the distant circle of sunlight above.

They emerged into chaos, the mingled screams and battle cries, and discordant clash of metal and weaponry deafening them both after the quiet confines of the Pit. Cadan helped them off the Bosun's chair and stood to one side with his crew of miners as Merlin bustled toward them.

"What did you find?" he asked over the battle noise pervading the fort, his eyes shining with anticipation as he looked at the parcel.

"I've no idea," said Grayle, "we'll need to unwrap it."

The three of them gently laid the package on the ground and, ignoring the battle going on around them, unwrapped the bundle, carefully opening layer after layer of protection and oil-heavy flax. As Grayle removed the last layer, Merlin moved his hand towards the last canvas wrapping, the last layer protecting what lay within, and then stopped.

"No," he said. "I cannot touch that, it is not for me to do." He looked at Iseult, and his face crinkled in a smile. "My lady, you were absolutely right, this is for you to do. You must be the first to touch this."

With shaking hands Iseult unfolded the canvas wrapping, revealing an ancient standard, carefully rolled and stored to prevent it from degrading. The visible portion of the ornately woven flag showed traces of fine silver wire and flashes of red and gold in the colouration. Iseult reached forward and touched the cloth of the flag, surprised to find it resembled nothing she had ever touched before.

"What is this?" she asked looking at Merlin.

"I have only seen this once before," he whispered. "It is a cloth made from a type of fibrous stone, woven together. If cared for, it does not degrade, and the wire interwoven within it gives it strength and resistance to being torn. It is the design that is important."

The three of them carefully unrolled the flag, the standard extending to well over eight feet long. Merlin breathed deeply in satisfaction as he looked at the rampant red dragon, a mace clutched tightly in one claw: the ancient heraldic symbol of the Summer Country gleamed red and gold in the sunlight, and the three of them looked on in wonder.

"Cadan!" called Merlin, "Do you think you could make me a flagpole?"

The miner nodded and moved away to a nearby stack of timber, Merlin turning to face the others. He smiled fiercely at Grayle and Iseult and then drew them close. "Was there anything else down there?"

"No Merlin, I think we were lucky to get out when we did, the roof was incredibly unstable. There was a deep layer of dust and the old barrel vault-style ceiling looked as if blocks were about to start unraveling at any moment. We dislodged a piece of metal that, in hindsight, was probably part of what would have been a flagpole fitting, and the slight noise that made when we dropped it almost brought down the roof."

"And that's the reason I sent you down there because you use your eyes and your brain. It sounds like we were lucky we didn't cause a collapse when we were bringing out the treasure. It's a good job Cadan insisted the men work quietly down there. Well done the two of you."

Merlin ran off to talk to Cadan, suddenly animated, waving his arms around as he talked to the calm and steady Cornishman.

"What the hell is he on about?" said Iseult.

"I've no idea," replied Grayle, "but I hope he's got something in mind, I think we're in trouble." He gestured to the ring of men that fought around them, weapons raised around the entire circumference of the hilltop fortifications.

The Saxons had them utterly surrounded.