Raven

Night had fallen by the time Godric stirred from his unconscious slumber. He immediately regretted it. His body ached, and every slight shift caused sore muscles to scream in rebellion. Stiff, tired and with every limb throbbing in pain, Godric laid back and sighed quietly. Disjointed memories flooded his mind; his beating from the devilish knight; his father's fury and the feeling of his bleeding and broken body being pummelled repeatedly by the man who had sired him. Talk of wizards peppered his memory and he could hazily remember a tall man and a young boy rescuing him. Strangely, he didn't feel the wave of emotion he'd anticipated. Rather, he felt oddly empty, as if he couldn't muster the effort to contemplate his father's actions. It was a stark contrast to the onslaught of tears which had followed previous beatings he'd suffered.

A muted moan shook him from his stupor. Surprised, Godric peered into the gloom as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He was at the edge of a large room, packed with personal belongings and small straw beds. It didn't take him long to realise that the source of the noise came from the chamber's far side. Two squirming bodies were nestled under the privacy of a large blanket and judging by the sounds they were making, they were revelling in their intimacy. A woman was coaxing her lover with commands that made Godric blush.

Now scarlet-faced, Godric felt his stomach rumble. Hunger pierced his fatigue and he realised that he hadn't eaten since his arrival at Westminster. Summoning the courage to move despite the protests from his aching limbs, he silently rose to his feet. Stiff but pleasantly surprised at the lack of pain he felt, he shifted soundlessly towards the door, the man's eager response to his lover's cries swiftly encouraging his flight. The door creaked slightly when opened, but not enough to distract the lovers from their pleasure and Godric crept away unnoticed.

The corridor was dimly lit by torches. As Godric wandered further from the chamber he noticed the heavy tapestries which adorned the stone walls, telling tales of ancient legends and fantastic beasts. Moving aimlessly on, he began to hear the echo of bawdy songs and loud shouts. Godric hesitated, realising that the sounds must be originating from the great hall.

'How long have I slept for?' Godric pondered quietly, frowning in confusion.

Wanting to remain unseen, he turned away from the festivities and followed the aromas wafting through the halls and corridors. His stomach was growling by the time he reached the kitchens. He approached the kitchens cautiously to avoid any servants who still lingered there. When he arrived, Godric was shocked to discover that the great cooking fires had long since died, although the warmth and scent of rich foods remained.

Creeping warily into the large room, Godric cast a quick eye over the surrounding tables. They were covered in dirty plates, dishevelled baskets and drained flagons from the festivities. Spices and herbs lay scattered amongst the chaos, along with, to Godric's joy, scraps of rich meats, cooked vegetables and mouth-watering fruits. Godric's stomach leapt at the sight. He practically skipped towards the table and was just about to reach them when he heard a soft growl. He stopped instantly, eyes wide, and turned slowly to find a large hound dozing in the kitchen's corner, chewed greasy bones scattered around it. Godric let out a deep breath of relief. The hound's eyes were closed as it slumbered in the kitchen's lingering warmth.

Godric crept closer to the table, arms outstretched towards the meagre but scintillating sight. He was just about to seize his prize when the sound of heavy footsteps resonated from the nearby hallway.

Godric panicked, quickly hiding behind another large bench just in time to avoid a bustling servant, who entered the kitchens with his arms laden with used plates. Godric's gaze lingered hungrily on the dishes as the servant hastily discarded them on a cluttered workbench. However, to Godric's despair, the servant remained in the kitchen to hurriedly prepare more food for the celebrations. Obviously, someone of high importance, perhaps the newly crowned King himself, had demanded a late-night meal.

With his mind racing, Godric failed to notice the figure lurking half-hidden in the shadows until she shifted noisily in discomfort. He spun around quickly to find a pair of dark blue eyes staring back at him from the dark. They belonged to a scrawny, raven-haired young girl, who instantly began giggling quietly at his stunned expression. Before he could react, she raised a finger to her lips, signalling for him to remain silent. Godric could only nod dumbly.

The girl paused briefly, reassuring herself that the servant's attention was solely on the meal he was preparing. Then slowly she stretched out her hand, the palm facing the pile of leftover foods on the nearest table where an apple sat untouched. Godric frowned, wondering what her intentions were, for she was too far away to physically reach the delicately perched apple. She glanced at him and flashed a devilish smile in his direction. Then suddenly, with a whoosh of air, the apple was in her hand.

Godric's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Were his eyes deceiving him? The girl grinned as she took a large bite out of the apple, before quickly tossing it the small distance between them to where a completely unprepared Godric still sat gaping. He didn't even attempt to catch it and with a painful thump, the apple hit him in the head, eliciting another fit of silent giggles from his companion. Godric's mind cleared as he shook it, then picked up the fruit and eyed it speculatively, as if determining whether the apple had somehow become corrupted. Who was this girl? Godric glanced at her, then at the fruit as she urged him to eat the apple, a suggestion reinforced by the instantaneous growl which erupted from his stomach.

The succulent apple tasted heavenly as its juices dripped from his lips, but the girl was no longer watching. Instead, she was staring at a large plate filled with scraps of tender meats, roasted vegetables and baked bread. Godric devoured the apple as the girl's eyes narrowed in concentration and once again raised her hand. However, nothing happened, and the plate refused to budge. Frowning, the girl tensed, and her face hardened in determination. The air quivered around her. Suddenly the plate shifted, hovering softly off the wooden surface and drifting steadily towards the two children. The girl trembled, and a bead of sweat dribbled down from her raven crown. Halfway through its journey, the plate shuddered, but the girl's concentration was solely on the task at hand. The servant accidently masked any sound that the two thieves made by loudly humming a bawdy tavern song. To the girl, the slumbering hound and even Godric were forgotten until, with a relieved sigh, the plate dropped soundlessly into her hands.

The girl smiled at her accomplishment, and it widened when she noticed Godric gaping at her in awe. A slight flush coloured her cheeks before she hastily began piling the tasty trinkets into her dress, regardless of the mess that the grease and oils made. She passed Godric half of the plate's contents, who could barely control the urge to pounce on the food. Meanwhile, the girl turned her attention once again to the unmanned kitchen bench where a goblet of half-drunk wine stood. She caught Godric's attention,

'Watch this,' she mouthed, grinning confidently. Godric frowned when he noticed her next target. After the events which had transpired recently, Godric didn't want anything to do with wine. He felt elation transform into a rising dread, but couldn't put a finger on the cause. Then it hit him. The kitchen had descended into silence and the servant had finished preparing his meal. Godric turned and tried to warn the girl, but it was too late. The girl had already raised a hand towards the wine. She caught a flicker of Godric's frantic attempts to catch her attention and glanced at him, breaking her concentration.

With a loud crack, the goblet went shooting off in the opposite direction to where the two children hid. Unfortunately, the servant turned at that precise moment, his arms laden with exquisite dishes and the flying goblet hit him hard in the face. Half-blinded by the wine, he cried out in astonishment. Wiping at his eyes and cursing, the servant looked frantically around before his eyes suddenly landed on Godric's companion, who knelt frozen amidst the chaos. Distracted by his find and with his face swiftly reddening in anger, the servant began to pace towards her.

'Little bitch,' he spat angrily, noticing for the first time the scraps of food wrapped up in the girl's dirty dress, 'thief!'

He charged forwards, so determined to reach her that he failed to see the half-eaten apple soaring through the air until it struck its intended target. A pile of dirty plates and dishes suddenly cascaded to the ground with a resounding crash. Twisting round in fright at the sudden eruption of noise, the servant lost his footing, falling to the ground with a heavy grunt and dropping the vast burden in his laden arms with a resounding crash. The slumbering hound woke with a jolt and began howling and barking madly, adding to the chaos.

Godric and the girl shared a quick glance, the boys hand still outstretched from when he'd launched the apple and instantly reached a silent agreement. Then they were gone, racing out of the kitchen with their arms loaded with spoils. The dazed servant caught a glimpse of two shapes disappearing and shouted for them to stop, but the two children were long gone by the time his wits returned. Picking himself up and rubbing down his food-stained tunic, he began to piece together a new meal, grumbling incessantly about the lack of respect shown by children these days.

The pair of adventurers finally came to a stop when they found a small den in the shadows beneath a stairway, out of sight of the revellers who still feasted nearby. Out of breath from sprinting blindly through the maze of dimly lit corridors, silence fell between them as they looked at each other.

Then the girl was laughing, her cackle echoing off the stone walls. Godric stared at her as if she was mad, but couldn't help the wry smile which flickered at his lips. Soon his gentle laughter joined hers.

'Did you see his face?' asked the girl. She attempted to impersonate the servants face, failed miserably, and then bent forwards again, clutching her stomach as her body trembled with more giggles. Godric didn't trust himself to speak. He was suddenly nervous. He'd never spoken to a girl his age before. Young maids were present in Black-Hollow, but none had ever crossed his path, most likely warned away from him by the fears and suspicions of others. This wild wraith-like girl with her unfamiliar brogue made him feel awkward and slightly ill at ease. The girl soon regained control of her laughter and began picking at the spoils they had pilfered from the palace kitchens.

'Here,' she said after noticing the yearning look Godric was giving the food. She offered him a small smile and he blushed in return, causing her impish grin to widen. They shared their meagre feast in silence. After a while, Godric risked a glance at his companion, only to find her watching him curiously.

'You're very ugly,' she stated innocently, her voice muffled as she wiped away the grease at the corners of her mouth. Godric was sure he looked indignant; he certainly felt it. She'd just insulted him after his quick thinking had allowed her escape from the servant's clutches.

'Thanks,' he replied, somewhat grumpily. The girl's eyes widened,

'No, I didn't mean,' she said quickly, 'I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that your face is very ill-looking, all bruised and swollen like that' Godric frowned. She probably had a point, he reluctantly mused in silence. After the two beatings he'd suffered recently, he wasn't surprised to discover that he looked battered and ill-kept. He sighed, picking absentmindedly at the remains of his meal.

'Don't worry about it.'

'How did it happen?' the girl blurted inquisitively,

'I had an accident,' he said uncomfortably.

'Must have been quite an accident,' she acknowledged, before finally realising the effect her inquisition was having on her companion. She shrugged, deeming it a private matter he didn't want to discuss. They slipped into silence again, the girl wary and Godric sullen. However, curiosity soon got the better of Godric's inquisitive nature,

'How did you do that?' he asked her quietly,

'Do what?'

'What you did in the kitchens, to get the food?'

'I just summoned them,' she replied modestly, 'I can't do much, and it's just a little trick I've learned.'

'It was incredible,' Godric told her earnestly.

'Oh,' the girl said, her cheeks reddening faintly at his praise. They shared a smile.

'How did you do it?'

'I'm not supposed to say,' she asked, suddenly unsure, 'my father made me promise. Why do you want to know?'

'It's just,' Godric shrugged, 'I never thought what you did was possible,'

'I shouldn't have done it,' the girl admitted, 'not in front of you anyway…'

'Do what?' Godric asked, intrigued. The girl hesitated, staring at him piercingly. Godric sensed that she was silently judging whether he was worthy of some untold and forbidden knowledge.

'Magic,' she finally said.

'Magic!' Godric exclaimed, gaping at his companion, 'That…that was magic?'

'Yes,' she nodded, giggling at his stunned expression. She bit noisily into a slab of meat tearing greasy scraps off the bone whilst Godric considered this new information. Magic. Magic really existed. He remembered how the girl had performed the strange miracle by summoning the food to her. Was he the same? Was it magic rather than an evil spirit within him? He felt suddenly revitalised by the possibility that he may not be evil after all.

'You should smile more.' Godric was snapped out of his internal musings by the girl's comment. She was smiling softly at him, before she stuck out her tongue and added cheekily, 'it makes you slightly less ugly.'

Godric hadn't realised that he was grinning. He simply rolled his eyes, before throwing an apple core at her in response. She gasped, before laughing and shoving him playfully back. His laughter soon joined hers. He felt exuberant, a sensation which had been missing for much of his life. His brother's untimely death had robbed him of any meaningful childhood bond and fear kept the children of Black-Hollow away. As he playfully wrestled with the girl, he revelled in the uncomplicated happiness of youth. Eventually, their game subsided, especially when Godric's bruised and battered body began to protest. They sat in contented silence, their meagre feast finished and forgotten.

'By the way,' she said quietly, watching him, 'thank you.'

'What for?' Godric asked in bemusement,

'For distracting that kitchen servant,' she reminded him, 'I thought I was caught for sure; it was very heroic.' She said it teasingly, almost mockingly, but the slight flush betrayed how grateful she truly was for Godric's recklessness. Soon, it was Godric's turn to blush,

'It was nothing,' he tried to deflect her praise humbly, not used to having it directed his way. The girl shook her head,

'No,' she insisted, 'it wasn't nothing. I'd have been in a lot of trouble if I'd been caught.'

'You'd have got away,' Godric responded naively, 'you can do magic.'

'Magic can only do so much,' the girl told him sagely, rolling her eyes at his ignorance, 'magic couldn't heal my mother and it won't stop my father from betrothing me to the highest bidder…' She hissed this bitterly, before sighing, her eyes suddenly downcast.

'If you hadn't intervened, I'd have been caught…and…and I would have brought great shame to my father.' Godric's eyes widened as the girl's unexpectedly subdued countenance, her thoughts dwelling on other things. He remained silent, unwilling to quench his curiosity. He understood the need for privacy better than anyone.

'My father is a great wizard from the glens in the far north,' she burst out suddenly, glancing at him, 'I'm very proud of my heritage and I love him greatly. But our family is impoverished.' She paused, gesturing with her hand at the filthy dress she wore and her untidy hair. She seemed ashamed of it; the mischievous glint in her eyes gone. Godric immediately missed its presence. 'He's very insistent on regaining our family's honour and wealth. That's why we've come to this coronation. So that my father can find a man to marry me too.' She glanced at Godric, who sat enraptured by her tale.

'Surely you're too young to marry?' The girl smiled at him.

'I'm almost twelve,' she admitted sadly, 'which is old enough to be betrothed. I don't think my father wouldn't marry me off yet, not until I'm fifteen at least. He loves me too dearly and the few years until then are enough time for me to become the greatest witch I can be.' Her passion was clear to see. She seemed to realise it at the same time he did, for she blushed even more in embarrassment. Suddenly the girl stood up, awkwardly dusting off the crumbs and dirty stains that her dress had accumulated.

'It's late. I should be going before my father realises I'm gone.' She began to retreat, before pausing and turning her attention back to Godric with a playful smile, 'Before I leave, what do I call my modest, ill-looking paladin? Tristan or Bedwyr? Perhaps Roland or Cuchulainn?' Godric shook his head,

'Just Godric,' he replied shyly,

'Godric,' she whispered, trying the name before smiling and saying grandly, 'Well my good Sir Godric, I'll bid you farewell'. She winked playfully at him, before scurrying hurriedly away.

'Wait,' Godric yelled, surprising even himself. The girl paused, looking back, 'what do I call you?' The girl seemed to hesitate, contemplating her answer. Then she grinned at him impishly,

'Call me Raven.' She stood still for a few moments longer, before turning down the corridor, dancing all the way and singing a song in the enthralling language of her native glens. Enchanted by the music, Godric stood rooted to the spot; simply content to watch the girl seemingly glide away as she danced. She looked back at him one last time and smiled brightly when she caught him still watching her. Then she was gone, disappearing into the gloomy corridors like an elf or wraith from folklore.

Godric returned to Lord Alain's quarters in a daze, his mind still consumed with thoughts of the girl dancing and singing as she disappeared into the darkness. He was unaware of how he reached his destination, for all he could think of was that impish smile. The chamber was quiet, the throes of passion which had greeted Godric earlier having long since ended. Now sleeping figures lay strewn across the room and a heavy stench of stale alcohol lingered in the air. Godric paused at the entrance before bravely stalking inside, hoping that he wouldn't disturb any of the figures dozing drunkenly in the dark. He'd barely stepped forwards when a soft cough broke the silence, alerting Godric to a foreign presence. Twisting around, Godric found a tall man standing in the shadows of the door and instantly recognised him as the stranger who had confronted his father about the brutal beating. This was the infamous Lord Alain of Avalon. Alain greeted Godric with a warm smile, before gesturing towards a small door to the side of the chamber.

'Follow me,' he told Godric gently, 'we can speak plainly there.' Godric nodded and shuffled into his uncle's private chamber. With a swish of his robes, Alain followed and swiftly closed the door soundlessly with a flick of an odd wooden stick which had suddenly materialised in his hand. Godric, having already seen magic being performed in such a manner, barely flinched at the display. However, his eyes did widen when Alain effortlessly conjured two cushioned chairs, both flamboyantly coloured and comforted with pillows, an opulent decoration in contrast with the rather spartan quarters. Once Godric was seated, Alain summoned a small table, which drifted over slowly before being placed beside them. It was adorned with a small feast and two goblets of scented wine.

'I thought you might be hungry,' he told him, 'but I suspect your appetite has already been satisfied after your exploits in the kitchens.' Godric baulked and looked worriedly at the man before him. He was shocked that he had been caught. Did Alain know what transpired in the kitchens? Judging by the knowing look he was sending Godric, he surely suspected.

'How did you know?' stuttered Godric. Alain chuckled quietly, although he looked strangely apologetic.

'I'm sorry for intruding on your privacy,' he admitted, 'but I saw it as a necessity to place a tracking charm on you, to determine your whereabouts if you awoke in a particularly adventurous mood and to guarantee your survival.'

'A tracking charm?' Godric gasped, nonplussed.

'It's a magical spell which enables me to know of your whereabouts. There is no reason to fear, as it leaves no lasting marks and I have already removed the enchantment. I simply deemed it necessary, especially in the present climate. There are dangerous men who would like to see you dead, Godric. This coronation may have afforded them the perfect opportunity whilst I was distracted by my duties to the new King.'

'Is the coronation over?' Godric asked in surprise,

'Yes, although the festivities will likely continue throughout the night.' Godric nodded, unable to keep his disappointment from showing. He'd missed the King's coronation. Alain studied him in silence before Godric finally dared to meet his gaze. Alain had greying fair hair, but still looked remarkably youthful despite being middle-aged. Startling blue eyes twinkled in the firelight.

'Tell me Godric, do you know who I am?' Godric nodded slowly, 'Good. I am Lord Alain of Avalon, Grand-Sorcerer and loyal advisor to the King of England, as I was to his father before him. Did you also know that I am your uncle?'

Again, Godric nodded warily. This was the first time in his short life that he had ever met his mysterious uncle. He remembered that Lord Alain's name had been mentioned on passing occasions throughout his life, although it was often accompanied by a curse unless spoken by his mother. Alain nodded in satisfaction,

'Excellent, that will make things easier,' he acknowledged, 'Sadly I didn't know your mother well, even though we shared a father. She was only a small child when I was apprenticed to my master. As a child, Alys was a sweet little thing and from what I hear, she became a remarkable woman. I attended her wedding, but that was years before your birth. I was truly saddened to learn of her death and even more aggrieved to hear about your brother. It was cruel for your brother to be killed so soon after.'

Godric sat silently in the face of his uncle's compassion. He hated to be reminded of that time; of the losses he still felt so keenly. Something stirred in him and Godric recalled that his uncle had been absent at his mother's funeral.

'Why weren't you there?' He said accusingly. Alain frowned but seemed to understand what drove Godric to refer to his absence.

'I had no choice,' he admitted soberly, 'your father wouldn't allow it and I did not wish to stir up an old and bitter argument, especially over my sister's grave. So, I respected Edmund's wishes and stayed away. It was the same with your brother. Our paths never crossed at court, although I remember that the Old King spoke well of him.' Godric continued to sit in silence, although his uncle sounded sincere enough.

'But we'll speak of your father later,' Alain continued, 'We have more important matters to discuss. Firstly, do you know what you are?' Godric simply stared blankly back, 'or put more simply, have you realised that you can do certain things; things that others cannot do?'

Godric considered his answer. Harsh beatings at his father's hands had engrained the demand for secrecy deep within him. However, those violent displays differed significantly from Alain's gentle inquisition.

'Yes!'

'Do you understand your abilities?' Godric shook his head,

'Our local priest said that it was a sign that an evil spirit or demon lived in me,' He was suddenly interrupted by a bark of laughter from Alain.

'That does not surprise me,' he said, shaking his head with a wry smile, 'tensions between wizards and the Church are commonplace. They consider us pagans, evil-doers and fear our magic. In return, wizards treat religion with contempt and disdain, seeing it as a blight on society and a haven for prejudice and violence. However, do not let past experiences cloud your open mind. Not all priests feel this way and you may meet more than one wizard who is intrigued by the idea of religion and worship many Muggle gods fervently.'

Godric listened intently to Alain. He truly despised Father Thomas, a man who had tormented him since that fateful day when he was six years old. Only time would tell if Godric would heed his uncle's wise counsel.

'The truth, Godric, is that you are a wizard.' Godric stilled and his breath seemed to stop. A wizard? He had long suspected he was different from others, but to believe that the sickly, unwanted second son of a minor nobleman was in fact a wizard was beyond belief. He wanted to be knight; to wield a sword and ride a fine warhorse. To discover that he was a wizard shattered his childhood dreams.

'That's not possible,' Godric finally breathed. Alain smiled patiently,

'Oh, it is Godric. You do not harbour evil within you. It is magic which flows in your blood; strongly too if judged by your recent magical feats. You have been denied knowledge of the world you belong to for far too long. The Otherworld of secrecy and sorcery. You, my nephew, are a wizard!'

Godric sat in silence, barely able to conceive what he was hearing. Magic. He could do magic. The image of a young girl summoning food shot through his mind.

'All this time,' he stuttered, his emotions in turmoil, 'all this time, it's been magic?' Alain nodded, smiling warmly at his young nephew.

'Welcome to the world of magic, Godric,' he said, 'As a young wizard, you will need to be trained. I will complete this task. From this night on, you will be joining my household as my apprentice and squire. I will seek to teach you the laws and skills which govern the use of magic, as well as all you need to know to survive in our world. In return, you will remain loyal to me…'

'I want to be a knight!' Godric blurted out abruptly. Alain raised an eyebrow in surprise, but his easy smile soon widened,

'It is not uncommon,' said Alain thoughtfully, 'for wizards to adopt the ways of Muggle knights.'

'Muggle?' asked Godric in confusion, unfamiliar with the term.

'It's what we call non-wizards,' Alain explained patiently. He gestured with his hands towards the chamber's bed and when Godric turned, he noticed a large broadsword resting there, 'as you can see, I have some skill with a sword. It is useful for a wizard to have more than one trick up his sleeves. Magic knights are called Fae-knights and can fight with both magic and Muggle weapons, as well as holding a powerful status in the Muggle realms. It will take time to accomplish this, but if you are motivated, dedicated and serve me well, then I see no reason to deter you from this ambition.'

For the first time, Godric returned his uncle's smile. A Fae-knight. His childhood dreams were still a tantalising possibility. However, reality soon came crashing down.

'What about my father?' Godric asked, watching Alain's features darken slightly, 'he will never allow it.'

'I have taken it upon myself to remove you from your father's reach. I fear that if my squire Salazar hadn't alerted me to the danger Edmund posed to you, then it would be too late, and we wouldn't be having this conversation.' Godric nodded. From what he could hazily recollect, his father was uncompromising in his fury and would have continued his brutal beating until Godric was dead. It was a hardship to accept, but Alain spoke a stark and tragic truth.

'Besides,' Alain continued, 'in his generosity, the new King has deemed Edmunds's loyalty to his father worthy of reward. He is to marry again; a young Norman woman called Eleanor le Broc. She is a ward of the King and he has seen fit to provide her with a fitting dowry. It is a generous offer, one in which your father was keen to accept.'

This news surprised Godric. His father was no longer a young man, nor had he reached his dotage. However, it could be said that he was past his prime. To discover that he would have a new mother-in-law stunned Godric and he couldn't dispel the rising resentment at his mother being replaced, although he did feel a flutter of pity for the young woman whose duty it would be to please his ill-tempered father.

'So, what does he want from me?' Godric finally muttered, 'Why did he let you take me? He hates you.'

'I will not insult your intelligence Godric. Your father hopes to sire a new heir to replace you. Edmund is an uncompromising man and whilst it did not come to blows between us, I was forced to remind him that it was I who had a hand in influencing the King's judgement, especially regarding his recent success. Whilst you are fostered in my household, you will remain the heir to Black-Hollow for as long as Lady Eleanor doesn't give birth to another son. Only time will tell, and I'll try everything in my power to ensure that you become your own man. You will have to work hard to achieve your ambitions Godric, but I sense great potential in you.'

Alain spoke evenly and with complete certainty. Godric flushed at his uncle's encouragement.

'It is late,' said Alain suddenly, clapping his hands together, 'and we have a demanding day ahead of us. Although you have already slept for an age, you are still recovering from your injuries. Once we reach Avalon, I'm sure my wife will insist on treating any lasting hurt you still bear and then lament at my own inadequate healing skills.' He smiled, 'when you are fit and healthy, then you will join my squires Salazar and Hamon, who will teach and aid you in your duties. Especially Salazar, as he is also training to be a wizard. If you require it, I'm sure they will be more than willing to help you adapt to your new responsibilities.' The warm smile and twinkling eyes rested on Godric and the boy realised that he was being dismissed. Running a hand through his red hair, Godric stood hurriedly. He paused as he reached the door,

'Lord,' he asked inquiringly, 'who was that man in the palace courtyard? The man who attacked me?' Alain frowned slightly, and the smile slipped from his face, making his features seem cold and harsh. However, he seemed pleased that Godric had enough wits to ask,

'The man who accosted you is called Sir Robert of Bellême. He is a powerful magnate whose family holds swathes of land in both Normandy and England. He is a formidable man from a long line of wizards and his family have a well-earned reputation for violence and sadism.'

'Bellême,' whispered Godric. It all came flooding back; the tall brooding figure with the cold eyes and natural disposition of a killer, who had come within a whisper's breath of murdering Godric. He was a man who had no qualms with killing a child, especially a boy who had seemingly insulted his family honour. He had sensed a fear of Bellême radiating from the crowd and remembered how the powerfully built knight had intimidated his father. Godric shivered, recalling Bellême's promise that he would have revenge for his bruised pride. Alain sensed his unease,

'Bellême isn't usually a man who displays his anger publically. He prefers to vent his narcissistic tendencies in private, but you caught him at a bad time. Unfortunately, he is not the most loyal servant of the new King and is an outspoken supporter of Robert of Normandy's claim to the throne. However, Bellême only seeks to serve himself. He is no friend of mine, but neither are we enemies. Tonight, Bellême's followers are out looking for you, but some of my chosen men are standing guard close by and the King will not allow violence to mar his coronation. Consequently, Bellême may hold a feud against you. Godric, you must understand now, that as Lord of Avalon, I can only protect you for a time. I don't doubt that Bellême will one day seek to do you harm. You are also discovering our world at a dangerous time. Wizarding Britain is a fractured place, filled with rival factions, warring cultures and violent, self-serving wizards. It would be wise to remain vigilant if you want to survive.'

Godric gulped, visibly paling. A feud? Rival factions and violent wizard? What world was Godric being thrown into? He realised that he was fiddling with his hands nervously and hurriedly stopped in case he humiliated himself in front of his uncle. Instead, Alain stood and strode over to Godric to place a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.

'It is my duty to protect you, Godric and I promise I will, to the best of my abilities. By ignoring your plight, I have failed you in the past. But I promise, from this night on, that I will do everything in my power to keep my sister's son alive.' He smiled and Godric returned it half-heartedly.

'Thank you, Lord,' he whispered absentmindedly, his mind whirling with thoughts of wizards and knights. Alain squeezed his shoulder and Godric basked in his uncle's reassuring smile.

'Now go and rest,' he said kindly, 'we have a busy day ahead of us. Tomorrow, we leave for Avalon.'