King Arthur, prince of kings, jewel of kings, lily and rose of kings—I was his son. My heart fluttered like linnet wings at the thought; it warmed me in the long, cold winters of Lothian. I was his son; surely he would acknowledge me; surely there was Princeliness in me.

As if hanging on a slender chain of gold, my life waited for the day when I would ride into Camelot, for the moment when I would first look upon his face.

BOOK TWO

The White Stag

5

CAMELOT.

Out of the Forest Perilous at last, blinking as shadows gave way to sunlight, I halted my horse to stare. Gull lay down like a nesting bird beside me, and the four retainers at my back halted, not even grumbling as I gazed. Across a rising sweep of green meadow, there it stood, the flower of castles, tower above tower above outer wall and inner wall and barbican and bastions and keep, as mighty as if it had grown out of the bones of earth, as if the stone giants had raised it there, but—shining white. Not stony gray but white, like cloud froth, sea spray. Camelot aspired so mighty yet so water-lily white in the morning sunlight that I clutched the reins and could not speak.

One of my retainers said gruffly, “Well, lad, ye’ve done it.” They had depended on me to guide us there, all the monthlong way from Lothian, for Camelot is a castle under a spell; one cannot find it by maps or ordinary means. It will welcome no one who is not meant to be there. I said nothing, for my heart began to pound with doubt; it was not I who had brought us through the Forest Perilous to Camelot, but Gull. All I had done was follow her.

Still, I would ride up the grassy rise to Camelot. I would ride in and find my father, upon whose welcome the course of my life depended. I could not do otherwise.

I swallowed hard and took breath to order us forward, but at that moment I heard a merry clamor of bugles and laughter, the great gates roared open, and I gazed anew as a bright cavalcade spilled out of that white castle. I saw green caps, red and blue cloaks thrown back, lords and ladies cantering in happy confusion on pleasure horses streaming with silken trappings, white and blue and gold. Then I knew that this was the morning of May Day, and the nobles of Camelot were going a-Maying.

My fifteenth birthday. I would meet my father today.