The two men fighting were sweating heavily: both were armed with a short sword and long knife, their plate armour dented and scratched. The airy room with its high windows was furnished with many weapons, but apart from the two rapidly tiring men, the room was empty.

"Have you had enough, Sir Knight?" said one of the armoured forms, his voice echoing hollowly inside the full faced helmet.

In answer, the other lowered his sword and placed his weapons on the floor of the training hall. Lifting his visor, the grinning face of Percival appeared from behind the metal, sweat pouring down his face. As Arthur also lifted his visor, they moved together and helped each other remove the various sections of armour. Once divested of metal, the two sat together in a window seat, a tall jug of water and two goblets settled on a nearby table.

"So how did it feel?" asked Arthur.

Percival flexed his left hand. "I think the bones are pretty much knitted back together. It certainly took a pounding from you, and although it creaked a few times, I think it'll hold up. To be honest I don't think I'll be using a shield again unless I absolutely have to though, a direct hit on a shield braced by my left arm would not be comfortable."

"That's good to hear Val. I'm glad you're fit again, it's been a long couple of months."

Percival nodded in agreement and changed the subject, a look of concern on his face. "Are you well Arthur, you looked grim this morning after the messenger had arrived?"

Arthur sighed and looked into Percival's worried eyes before replying, his tone soured with disappointment. "King Kurs is dead. We had word from one of our spies in the Saxon camp this morning. It appears Hengist had a younger brother who was not best pleased with Kurs taking the throne, so all we achieved following the battle at Silbury, and the death of Hengist is for naught. We now have to deal with yet another new Saxon king, and I suspect we will have another round of skirmishes along the eastern border."

"Do you need me there to help?" Percival asked.

"No my friend, you have had enough border fighting for now. Bedevere and Bors are on their way and will keep a low profile for a while to ascertain the lie of the land. I do however have another mission for you."

"Your wish is my command, my King," said Percival inclining his head.

"You may regret saying that old friend; it will require a certain amount of diplomacy."

Percival groaned and smiled at Arthur. "So be it, I could probably do with a bit more rest on this arm if I'm honest. How is Anna now?"

Arthur smiled, his expression lighting up as he thought of his daughter. "She was worried when her mother came back home so cut and battered, but thankfully she is young enough to know little of the horrors of war. I never said thank you for trying to talk Guinevere out of fighting Morgause by the way, but you know how stubborn she can be."

"I do now," replied Percival. "This is why I never married."

"Never say never Val," said Arthur grinning. "She did at least save me from having to deal with Morgause. A nunnery would never have forgiven me for sending her to them, and it would've cost me a fortune."

"Why did she kill Lancelot?" Percival asked, his voice hushed. "Of all of us, he was the best."

"He was also celibate," replied Arthur. "I just don't think she could handle that. He rejected her utterly. Lancelot and Guinevere were great friends, and they talked about many things: one of those conversations revolved around Morgause. Every time she came to Camelot she made advances to Lancelot, and in the end, he had to tell her to leave him alone rather bluntly to get his point across.

"He was a handsome man but just wasn't interested in women; he was utterly obsessed with being the best knight he could be, and I think that's what made him so dangerous. Although he had compassion, and was a great friend, once the armour was on and his sword was in his hand, all emotion just switched off. Neither you or I can do that. Grayle can to some extent, but even he is not utterly detached. Lancelot is one of the few people I have ever seen who could do it. He will be missed."

"Are you going to replace him at the Table?" asked Percival.

"Yes, I'll have to, but it's still very raw at the moment. I have someone in mind, and I also have high hopes for young Elyan, given a few years. That lad has promise but he'll need to be trained. He's joined the ranks here for now and has been progressing remarkably well. The boy is a born fighter although he's going through a growth spurt at the moment, and seems to be a little clumsy. Sir Tor was impressed with him up until the point he dropped a mace on his foot." Arthur laughed softly. "Tor is bad-tempered enough at the best of times, Elyan was lucky it was Tor's foot, it meant he couldn't catch him."

Percival topped up his water, reaching across to do the same to Arthur's. "When do you need me to leave?"

"After the banquet, I think. We have a few things to celebrate, and I'd hate for you to miss the feast." There was a clatter of hooves from outside, and Arthur looked out of the window and smiled. "Well, I might've known, mention the word feast, and your father and Bishop David turn up."

~

Mark threw his arms around his son as Percival passed the reins of the king's horse to a waiting stable hand.

"Good to see you lad, now where's that errant grandson of mine?"

"He's off in the grounds somewhere with Iseult and their small chaperone. The three of them have been virtually inseparable since we got back. Anna seems determined to keep them in line." Percival smiled broadly at the Cornish king.

"You're looking well father, the sea air has obviously done you good."

"It was good to get back to my rock," said Mark. "I forget how much I love that remote bit of Cornwall. Morholt sends his regards by the way. Now, when's this banquet, did we make it in time?"

"Yes father, have you ever known David to be late for a meal?"

"I heard that," growled David from behind him, "and your boy had better be looking after my niece, or I'll spank him."

Percival turned and sketched a quick bow, grinning at the corpulent clergyman as he clasped his hand in greeting. "They're fine David, and they're behaving with all due decorum."

"Good man. Now where's the kitchen, I'm hungry?"

"Who else are we expecting?" asked Mark as they made their way into the castle.

"Not too many people I don't think. The main event is Grayle's naming and confirmation of knighthood, but as he will likely become a Round Table knight, I suspect most of the local monarchy will want to be there to have a look at him. Sir Ecrivain's widow arrived earlier today too."

"Ecrivain died? I'd not heard that."

"Aye, he left his lady only hours after getting married to join in the battle. They didn't even have time to get to know each other. Tragic really, they say she's lovely."

"Grandfather!" Grayle appeared around the corner of the stable and hurried over, Iseult and Anna following hand in hand behind him at a more sedate pace.

"Hello lad," said Mark, bestowing a huge hug, before leaning over and hugging Iseult, making her blush.

"Do I get a hug?" Anna's plaintive voice sounded from down by his waist.

"No, my princess, you get a bow." Mark dropped to one knee before the little girl who regally extended a hand to be kissed, which got ignored by Mark as he swept her up into a hug, tickling her with his beard.

"Will you be my escort to the banquet, Uncle Mark?" she asked as he carried her into the castle. "Grayle said he can't as he's taking Iseult, and Percival is grumpy."

"Of course Anna, I would be honoured." Mark smiled broadly at the little girl and went to meet Arthur and Guinevere.

~

The following evening, once everyone had eaten, Arthur finally got to his feet, waiting until the noise died down before speaking. "My lords, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us this evening. Some of you have travelled far, but we have news and cause for both sadness and celebration.

"As many of you now know, we managed to retrieve the gold from Silbury Hill. We retrieved much of value," he waved an arm at the Dragon Banner hanging from the wall of the great hall, "but we almost lost so much. Had it not been for the heroic actions of our soldiers, and the Cornish miners who rushed to prevent a breach we would have perished. Notably too, Elyan of Avebury, Daniel of Marlborough, his uncle Sir Ecrivain, and the Church Knights performed acts of heroism above and beyond the call of duty. Without their bravery we would have been sorely pressed to achieve what we did. Daniel passed away at the battle and sadly Sir Ecrivain was injured, and the wound, although not serious at the time, caught an infection and he died not long after the battle. His widow joins us tonight in his stead, thank you for gracing us with your presence, my Lady Isobelle."

A tall woman in her early thirties stood from a nearby table and bowed to Arthur, replying her thanks in a deep honeyed voice. Percival jumped as his father dropped his knife with a clatter, startled to see Mark open-mouthed and staring at the lady as she continued to speak. Percival looked at Grayle who sat with Iseult on the other side of the table and smiled broadly as his son started to cough to try and cover his laughter.

"Father," said Percival in a whisper, "you're staring."

"Wuh? Yes, I am. I mean, am I?" Mark flushed. "Er... yes. Sorry." He smoothed his hair and fiddled absently with the highly polished silver cap adorning his stump, a cap that matched the patch covering his ruined eye. He stopped abruptly as Iseult leaned over to lay a hand on his.

"Mark, you look fine. Percival will introduce you later."

"Ah, yes. Um, am I really that obvious?" Mark said somewhat plaintively.

"Yes, my King, I'm afraid you are. But your taste is immaculate," said Iseult with a smile.

Arthur resumed speaking, his voice growing somber. "And it is with great regret that I inform you officially of the loss of our dear friend and advisor Merlin, a truly remarkable man who I have known all my life, and who did so much to create this land in which we now live. He was a friend and advisor to me but was also a great source of support to my family, and everyone who knew him. His body has been interred in a place befitting his role and station in life."

After a moment's pause, the king gestured to Grayle who rose from his seat and made his way to the dais where Arthur stood. As Grayle made his way through the hall, Arthur continued to speak.

"And now to happier news: it is our great pleasure to welcome a new member to the court. Following his heroic defence of the Lady Iseult, with whom he had been charged with the role of defender, and his steadfast refusal to leave his colleagues, he has joined our defending forces here at Camelot. During the defence of Silbury, he saved Iseult from a potentially mortal blow from the witch Morgause and, because of his selfless actions and great bravery, I hereby bestow the title of Squire of the Court upon Elyan of Avebury. Please come and join us Squire."

Elyan, who stood open-mouthed with astonishment by Queen Guinevere's chair was given a sharp nudge by a royal elbow, prompting him into motion. He stumbled slightly on a rug but righted himself in time to kneel in front of Arthur, who laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Arise Squire, now be a good lad and fetch my sword please." As Elyan sped away, Grayle arrived at his elbow, and Arthur looked at him and smiled.

"Please kneel," said Arthur and held out a hand into which Elyan placed the grip of Excalibur. He leant down, and a few whispered words of conversation passed between the two them, Arthur eventually nodding his agreement, and standing up with a broad smile on his face.

Lifting his sword, he tapped Grayle lightly on both shoulders with the blade and held out his spare hand, raising Grayle to stand next to him, facing the hall of people.

"I am pleased to announce we have a new Knight of the Round Table. Following the recent retirement of Sir Tor, and the completion of his training, I present to you our newest Knight, Sir Tristan of Cornwall. Please give him welcome."

People thumped tables and stamped feet to show their appreciation as Grayle, now Tristan, made his way back to his family and friends.

"Good choice of name son," said Percival smiling broadly. "Father Tristan would have been proud."

"I felt it time for a change, and my old name was a link to a past that no longer haunts me. I owe Tristan so much, and now I can honour him properly."

"So you intend to stay a while at Camelot?" asked Mark.

"Arthur has asked me to stay here for a while, and work with him and David on building stronger links with the Church Knights." Tristan looked over at Percival, a look of sadness on his face. "I'm afraid I will no longer be able to accompany you father."

"Son, you have my blessing on whatever you choose in life, and I am pleased for you. I never expected you to stay by my side my entire life. All things change, and now you are a fully fledged knight, with a beautiful lady by your side. I am proud of you lad, probably more than you could ever know."

Percival raised a goblet to Iseult and his son, toasting them formally. "Now, if you have any sense you'll ask David's permission to marry this girl and make a life together."

Iseult blushed and leaned into Tristan's arm. "One thing at a time Percival," she said smiling. "I have to think long and hard about my future father in law, remember."

Mark spluttered into his ale, laughing as he slapped his son on the back but stopped as a tiny hand tugged his robe, the diminutive Princess Anna asking for a dance as Percival laughed in turn.

~

Percival settled his saddlebags on his horse, his chain mail jingling as he tightened the cinch. It was early, the morning after the banquet. Arthur had come to him before he retired for the evening, asking him to carry out a mission to the east on the morrow.

He was alone.

The morning sun cast pale shadows across the stable yard, faint sounds of the stable hands and kitchen staff filtering through the air with the early light.

He smiled. It had been a while since he'd been on the road, and he was looking forward to getting out and doing his job again. Diplomacy: not a word he was used to, but it appeared his job was changing. A crunch of shoes on gravel made him turn to face the sound, and the twin smiles of his son and father greeted him.

"Good luck son," said Mark, enveloping him in a trademark bear hug.

"May God speed you," said his son once Mark had relinquished hold.

"Thank you for coming to see me off," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Will you be alright on your own?" asked Tristan, a worried edge to his voice.

"I'll be fine lad, don't you worry about me."

"He will not be alone." Arthur's baritone cut quietly through the air, and he moved out from the shadows of the stables. "I have a surprise for you Sir Knight, although I suspect it may not be an immediate blessing."

Arthur grinned as Elyan moved out from the stables, blinking dozily in the morning sun, and turning to swear briefly at the stubborn beast he was trying to coax into the morning air.

"Are you ready Squire?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, sir," saluted Elyan, dropping the reins and having to scuttle after the mule as it tried to make its way back to its hay.

"For me? Oh, Arthur, you shouldn't have," Percival said as he watched in dismay as Elyan hopped out from the stables clutching his foot where his mount had trodden on his toes. "Really Arthur, you honestly shouldn't."

"We couldn't send you out alone Percival," said Arthur, trying to unsuccessfully to ignore the laughter coming from Mark and Tristan.

Elyan finally got the mule under control and joined them, smiling shyly at Percival. "If you would have me as page, Sir Knight, I would be grateful. King Arthur has briefed me on my duties."

Percival held out a hand and Elyan grasped it firmly.

"I suspect we'll get on well enough. Tor says you have promise, so that's good enough for me. Shall we go?"

Elyan leapt onto his mule and sat eagerly as Percival mounted his horse. The two mounted forms rode slowly away, and Percival turned to wave at the men standing in the courtyard before engaging his new page in conversation.

The three men in the yard watched them go; Mark placing an arm around his grandson's shoulders, Arthur standing with one arm raised in farewell.

A light wind rustled the branches of the trees lining the start of the long road to the east. All was at peace in Arthur's Camelot, and the legend of The Dragon of Silbury still held thrall over the Saxons. Although the balance of power had shifted again on the Saxon Shore, the remembrance of the recent defeat meant they would not unduly trouble the west for a while, and Merlin's Gold rested safely within the castle treasury.

As the breeze played idly with a few fallen leaves, making them dance around the hooves of the Knight and his new page, the sound of Percival's voice reached clearly back to the trio as they moved from the courtyard; Percival's warm and friendly, Elyan silent for a few moments, listening intently. As they began to move through the arch in the castle walls Percival waved a final farewell. As he did Elyan spoke, the question drifting gently back with the wind to the three men, sparking a broad smile across the bearded face of Arthur, a deep and heartfelt sigh from Percival along with a pointed glance over his shoulder, and further merriment from Mark and Tristan.

"Why did King Arthur tell me to ask you about a meat pie?"

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