Chapters (72)
- Cover
- Preface
- Title page
- Dedication page
- MAPS
- Prologue: THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS
- Book I: THE DOVE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- Book II: THE FALCON
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- Book III: THE WOLF
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- Book IV: THE RED DRAGON
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- Book V: THE COMING OF THE BEAR
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- The Legend of Merlin
- Author’s Notes
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Mary Stewart
“Well, all right, but some of them have got mighty big hoofs to walk over you with. Do you want Christian burial?”
“I don’t really mind. I suppose I’ll work my way up to Christian baptism fairly soon, if the bishop has his way, but till then I’ve not signed on officially for anyone.”
He laughed. “I hope they’ll give me the flames when my turn comes. It’s a cleaner way to go. Well, if you won’t listen, you won’t listen, but don’t face him on an empty belly, that’s all.”
“I’ll promise you that,” I said, and went to forage for supper. After I had eaten, and changed into a decent tunic, I went to look for my grandfather.
To my relief Camlach was not with him. The King was in his bedchamber, sprawled at ease in his big chair before a roaring log fire, with his two hounds asleep at his feet. At first I thought the woman in the high-backed chair on the other side of the hearth was Olwen, the Queen, but then I saw it was my mother. She had been sewing, but her hands had dropped idle in her lap, and the white stuff lay still over the brown robe. She turned and smiled at me, but with a look of surprise. One of the wolfhounds beat his tail on the floor, and the other opened an eye and rolled it round and closed it again. My grandfather glared at me from under his brows, but said kindly enough: “Well, boy, don’t stand there. Come in, come in, there’s a cursed draught. Shut the door.”
I obeyed, approaching the fire.
“May I see you, sir?”
“You’re seeing me. What do you want? Get a stool and sit down.”
There was one near my mother’s chair. I pulled it away, to show I was not sitting in her shadow, and sat down between them.
“Well? Haven’t seen you for some time, have I? Been at your books?”
“Yes, sir.” On the principle that it is better to attack than to defend, I went straight to the point. “I . . . I had leave this afternoon, and I went out riding, so I—”
“Where to?”
“Along the river path. Nowhere special, only to improve my horsemanship, so—”
“It could do with it.”
“Yes, sir. So I missed the messenger. They tell me you ride out tomorrow, sir.”
“What’s that to you?”
“Only that I would like to come with you.”
“You would like? You would like? What’s this, all of a sudden?”