Far o’er the waves, across the sea,

I’d drift along quite happily,

Or maybe out on field and fen,

I’d circle round some forest glen.

I envy bee and butterfly,

Maybe the birds could tell me why

I wipe a teardrop from my eye,

I sit alone, for I can’t fly.”

In actual fact it was Gawjo who was wiping a teardrop from his eye, his mind wandering back over the seasons. “Ellayo my wife used to sing that, almost as pretty as you do, Song. Of course, she was much younger in those days.”

Song stroked the old gray head of her grandpa. “She’s still young at heart, you’ll see.”

Gawjo stretched out, closing his eyes. “Maybe I will, if we live through what lies ahead, young ’un.”

*

Outside it began to rain, softly at first, increasing as a breeze sprang up over the vast reaches of the hidden lake.

One of Silth’s ceremonial cloaks, held on the spearpoints of two soldiers, provided cover for Mokkan against the driving rain. The Marlfox was in high spirits, far too cheerful to allow a wet morning to ruin his joy. Striding across a high-walled roof at Castle Marl, he peered over at the ground far below. “Set it up here!”

With the aid of twelve slaves, Wilce and Ullig staggered forward, bent beneath the weight of Queen Silth’s palanquin. Grunting and groaning, they strained upward until it rested precariously atop the wall. Wilce and Ullig stood bareheaded in the rain among the slaves, awaiting King Mokkan’s pleasure. He flicked a paw dismissively at them. “You two, shove it over!”

It needed only a slight push, and then there was several seconds’ silence, broken by a rending crash. The Marlfox giggled like a youngster as he stared over the walltop at the smashed palanquin on the ground.

“I always hated that thing. Tell somebeast to burn what’s left of it when the weather clears up. Right, follow me, come on, come on, all of you!”

Wilce and Ullig exchanged apprehensive glances before running in the wake of slaves and soldiers after Mokkan, down the winding slopes of the castle’s corridors. The Marlfox rushed helter-skelter in the lead, and arrived at the door of Castle Marl’s main chamber smiling and exhilarated.

“What took you so long? Haha, getting too fat, Ullig, and you Wilce. Inside, all of you, step smartly now!”

A big carved oak chair had been set in the center of the floor. Mokkan practically skipped over to sit on it. He banged his paws down on the chair arms. “What d’you think? Not bad, eh? Of course, it’s not a real throne, but it’ll do until I have one made. The throne of High King Mokkan. Hahaha, I like that! If my fool brothers and sisters have survived they’ll meet a fine welcome if they try to return.”