The Devil Returns

Spring 1092

Black-Hollow had suffered a harsh winter. The people had been battered by heavy snow and cursed by outlaws threatening violence and robbery as they sought refuge from the cold. Fortunately, by the feast day of St Walburga, the winter snow had finally subsided, although the wind remained bitterly cold and a chill lingered in the frost-bitten land. The outlaws returned to their hideouts in the nearby hills and woods, where they were left undisturbed by the Lord of Black-Hollow and free to prey upon unsuspecting travellers.

However, the villagers went about their annual business, waiting patiently for the coming of the spring so that they could venture out to plow the surrounding, sun-drenched fields. The men of Black-Hollow wandered into the nearby copses, for Sir Edmund granted them permission to look for any spare wood needed to repair well-worn tools and aging homesteads. Women went about their monotonous responsibilities, gossiping in groups as they saw to the day to day needs of their friends and neighbours. Their children ran around them in small gaggles, throwing balls of snow and screaming gleefully.

Luckily, only one homestead needed rebuilding, having failed to bear the weight of the falling snow. However, the sound of working men, tittering women and the youthful games of the children came to a premature end when several strangers cantered into Black-Hollow. All toil and talk ceased immediately at their sudden appearance, for none of the villagers had ever seen men dressed so garishly. The riders were garbed in colourful robes, with long bright cloaks which shone in the pale light. Their hoods were raised, hiding their features from the lingering gazes of the curious locals. The villagers shuffled away from the strange men. Despite not being dressed in mail, their easy confidence and the shields hanging from their saddles radiated an aura of power which instantly distinguished them as noblemen.

The Apple of Avalon and the serpent of Slytherin went unrecognised, but many eyes widened at the sight of the golden lion rampaging upon a scarlet field. Yet, the mysterious figure who bore the coat-of-arms of Black-Hollow was not Sir Edmund. He was taller than Sir Edmund, with a stature some of the oldest crones in the village claimed had not been since Sir Edmund's father, the heroic Lord Godric, had marched to Senlac Hill with most of the men of Black-Hollow and never returned. Certainly not since Sir Edmund's first wedding had such exotic visitors come to Black-Hollow. Their interest piqued, the villagers followed the riders as they rode along the road to Sir Edmund's manor. They made sure that they kept their distance and did not disturb them, for their curiosity did not completely overcome the inherent mistrust of knights and strangers.

Godric Gryffindor glanced back at the small crowd of villagers stalking them, grimacing as he returned his gaze to his father's hall. The closer they rode to the manor, the more his heart was tormented by contesting emotions, transforming the organ into a battleground of dread, anger and unlooked for sense of joy. Godric had been born here, the land where for centuries his paternal ancestors had lived, toiled and died. Despite the foreboding memories of the place which had haunted him for most of his young life, Godric felt his resolve strengthening and by the time he had reached the hall's small wooden palisade, he was sure that returning to Black-Hollow was the right choice. After all, now he had been knighted, Godric believed it was time to confront his father.

Alain and Salazar, recognising the importance of this journey to Godric, had decided to accompany the young knight to his father's hall. Hamon and the rest of Alain's followers stayed at a nearby inn, where the Lord of Avalon's gold kept ale and food in good supply. Unsure of how they'd be received, Alain had wisely guessed that the sudden appearance of a retinue of armed knights would cause an unnecessary stir and would lead to accusations that they were here to trouble the natives with mischief. Knowing of Sir Edmund's bitter dislike of the Lord of Avalon and the magic his kind wielded, Alain thought that if only two men supported Godric, then there was less chance of any disagreements breaking out between the Lord of Black-Hollow and his estranged heir.

Halting their horses outside the palisade's timber gate, they were greeted by a single watchman. The retainer did not notice them. Instead, he dozed against his spear, oblivious to the world as he snored lightly. The small crowd of villagers shuffled to a stop behind them and listened eagerly as Godric's loud voice rose up and startled the watchman from his slumber.

'Who are you?' the watchman spluttered rudely, covering a yawn and rubbing at tired eyes with a gloved hand. The watchman did not recognise the tall knight or the flamboyant companions below him and Godric judged that the retainer must have come to Black-Hollow after Godric had been fostered in Avalon.

'A friend,' Godric called back, the retainer's uncouth behaviour already irritating his frayed emotions, 'luckily for you. Is it now common practice for the men of Black-Hollow to sleep on duty and leave Sir Edmund's hall unprotected?'

'What's it to you?' the watchman huffed indignantly, cheeks burning in embarrassment when he glanced past Godric and realised that many of the local villagers were within hearing distance. He coloured and scowled at the newcomers.

'It matters,' Godric answered loudly, 'because by sleeping during your watch you have endangered all who dwell here. If we were enemies rather than knights of Avalon, then you'd already be dead.'

'Who?' the watchman asked in bemusement, his brow furrowing as he gripped his spear tightly, sensing an argument brewing.

'Merlin,' Salazar mumbled quietly, 'are all Muggles so idiotic? This oaf is stupider than Hamon.'

'My name is Godric Gryffindor,' the young knight called coolly, throwing back the mantle of his cloak to reveal his face, 'you are greeting the son of Sir Edmund and the heir to his lands!'

A startled gasp escaped the onlookers as many wide eyes watched the tall, red-headed knight, in disbelief, unable to grasp that this man was the sickly wraith they could scarcely remember. Those who did remember held their children close, pulling them away from the strangers out of a misplaced fear of Godric's cursed existence. Dark tales had been spun by the local priest, tales that he had been fostered by devil-worshippers and pagans in the fae-marshes to the north. These tales had further damaged Godric's already unpleasant reputation amongst the locality. Yet, despite their fears, many chose to remain and watch in fascination as Sir Edmund's infamous son confronted the unfortunate watchman, who quickly paled as he slowly recognised the name.

The retainer disappeared and they could hear him hurriedly conversing with an unseen comrade. Meanwhile, Black-Hollow's gates remained shut, and the three strangers were beginning to sense an insult.

'They do know we can do magic, don't they?' Salazar said drolly, speaking in French so that none of the watching locals could understand. Godric smiled, recognising his friend's amusement. Whilst his grief over Rhyannon's death had lessened as the winds of winter passed, Salazar could still be struck by occasional bouts of misery and self-loathing. It always gladdened Godric's heart to see Salazar regaining some of his old spirit. Alain shook his head in reply, his knowing smirk hidden in the shadows of his grey cloak,

'I doubt any wizard other than us has ever traveled to this place,' Alain explained, stroking his horse's mane to sooth the beast when the tense atmosphere began to unnerve it.

A gruff voice barking orders from behind the closed gate swiftly ended their conversations. The gate began to open with a groan of creaking wood and iron, revealing the first glimpse of his father's hall Godric had seen in over half a decade. Granted entry, Godric led his companions into the small courtyard, their eyes unconsciously scanning the hall for any sign of impending danger.

It was not needed, for Sir Edmund's household knights were content to hover at the edges of the courtyard and not approach the strangers. Starved of entertainment by the closing gates, the villagers disbanded back to Black-Hollow. Back in the courtyard, when Godric glanced at the hall's door, he saw a flash of red hair disappearing as a small figure was quickly ushered into the hall by a fretting maid.

However, their attention was soon drawn to the only figure who dared to greet them and Godric found himself smiling as he recognised Siward's scarred features. He quickly dismounted with accomplished ease and strode to meet his family's most loyal follower. Despite his youth, Godric was already notably taller than most men, but he chuckled when he realised that the old warrior still dwarfed him, having stubbornly refused to yield to the rigors of age. Only his pale white beard and the more grizzled nature of the steward's battle worn face betrayed his age.

'Welcome back,' Siward greeted Godric, who thought he caught a flicker of a smile beneath the man's beard. Salazar and Alain dismounted gracefully behind them.

'It's good to be back,' Godric admitted, returning Siward's smile. The fact that he spoke the truth surprised Godric, because, despite all the abuse he had suffered in Black-Hollow, familial loyalty was buried deep within his heart and still demanded that his heart was drawn to the place of his birth.

'By God, lad,' Siward said, scrutinising the younger man with an experience forged on the field of battle by a man who had spent most of his long life leading men, 'you're the mirror of your grandfather.' The old warrior's pride was obvious and when Siward's eyes fell to the sword girded at Godric's hip, his reluctant smile finally broke forth.

'Your grandfather was a great warrior,' Siward said fondly, 'you must be same if you've been knighted at your age. Can you use that sword?'

'As well as anyone,' Godric replied humbly. Both Salazar and Alain scoffed loudly at Godric's modesty, allowing Siward to read more into their response and Godric's flushing face. The old warrior had served three generations of Godric's family and he had always prided himself on his ability to read men well, silently acknowledging everything Godric had humbly left unsaid.

'Good,' he finally said. He glanced at the shield which hung from Godric's saddle, his gaze momentarily lingering on the rampant lion. He nodded approvingly but didn't comment any further. He suspected that it would be better to not confront the estranged relationship between Godric and Sir Edmund, especially before the two men had had a chance to meet again. Sensing Siward's uncertainty, Godric swiftly directed their conversation down a different road.

'Is it common for the men of Black-Hollow to sleep whilst on watch?' Godric commented lightly, gesturing at the watchman they had encountered on the gate. Realising that he was being scrutinised, the retainer shifted nervously in the wall's shadows. After entering the courtyard, Godric had briefly scanned his father's followers and determined that they lacked the discipline and prowess of the warriors who guarded Avalon.

'That'll be Adam,' Siward grumbled, sending the watchman scarpering with a single withering glare, 'he's usually got a good head on his shoulders, although he's plagued by idleness and thinks more with his prick these days. I swear that if he was rutting with one of the unmarried girls from the village again, I'll thrash the little shit for it.'

'I'm sure a stern talk about his misdeeds will discipline him enough,' Alain interjected, ever the peacemaker. Siward glanced at Alain, his eyes lighting up in recognition as he bowed in respect,

'Greetings, Lord of Avalon,' the old warrior said, 'I apologise for any insult caused by the men of Black-Hollow. We received no word of your coming, or else we would have offered you a warmer welcome.'

'No harm was done,' Alain reassured him, 'the fault is ours. We should have sent a messenger ahead but had little time to do so. We were traveling in the area and Godric insisted that we could not pass by without pausing on our journey. Many years have passed since he was last here.'

'I hope you did not meet with any trouble on the road here.'

'No,' Godric said curiously, 'should we have expected too?'

'Outlaws,' Siward nodded, spitting into the mud, 'bands of the bastards. They're up in the hills and woods between here and Thanesfell. Lately, they've been growing bold, raiding homesteads and assaulting locals. They rob anyone who crosses their path. A young lass went missing a few weeks back and some of your father's deputies were murdered. Sir Edmund will have to clear the bastards out of their lairs by the year's end.'

'Is Sir Edmund home?' Alain asked cautiously

'Sir Edmund is not here,' Siward said apologetically, 'he rode out with an armed guard earlier this morning on a hunting expedition with some of the lords and knights of the neighbouring lords. They left this morning and can be expected to return soon…'

'Great,' Salazar said, 'because we need more people to witness this meeting.'

Siward scowled at Salazar. However, before he could utter a word, he was interrupted by the patter of scurrying feet. A little girl with bright, flaming hair was scampering towards them, having dashed out of the great hall in a bid to escape her nurse and purposefully muddying her skirts by splashing in the puddles on her way. Godric heard Siward release an exasperated groan escape from Siward.

'Eleanor,' a nursemaid called tentatively from the shadows of the hall's door, but her pleas went ignored as the little girl skidded to a halt beside them, almost slipping until the old warrior's undiminished reactions managed to halt her fall. Beaming at the scowling Siward without a trace of remorse, Eleanor turned her curious gaze to the strangers, who were doing their best to smother their amusement.

'What are you doing here?' an aggravated Siward demanded sternly,

'Who are you?' she said inquisitively, completely ignoring the steward as her gaze fell on Godric.

'Eleanor!'

'Siwy, I'm being the lady of the manor,' the little girl explained seriously, hushing the stunned steward in a manner Godric had never witnessed before. Godric admired her bravery; if he'd ever dared to call the old warrior "Siwy" then he was certain he'd have been throttled. Alain smiled at the young girl and Salazar was forced to hastily mask an amused chuckle as a cough. In contrast, Siward's complexion reddened at Eleanor's dismissal, desperately fighting the affectionate smile which threatened to betray the stern glare he leveled at Eleanor.

'Shouldn't you be with your nurse?' the steward scolded her pointedly. Godric glanced at the nursemaid. The woman was obviously terrified of their presence, for she had not moved beyond the threshold of his father's hall and was repeatedly making the sign of the cross to ward off the evil of Godric's presence. He vaguely recognised her from his childhood in Black-Hollow.

'Maybe some people do know we are wizards,' Salazar chuckled dryly. However, not everyone was terrified by the reappearance of the strange boy who had once lived in Black-Hollow. Eleanor was regarding Salazar curiously, before blushing shyly when the handsome wizard met her gaze. Not long ago, this would have amused Salazar greatly, but since Rhyannon's death, he had greeted these attentions with unease. Yet, Eleanor did not dwell on the handsome wizard for long. Instead, her little ears perked up when he mentioned wizards and any talk of sorcery were enough to distract her.

'Who is this?' Alain asked kindly when it appeared that Godric was too lost for words to greet the little girl accordingly.

'I'm the lady of the manor when my father isn't here,' Eleanor said boldly,

'Mm…' Siward murmured doubtfully, but a scowl from the young girl shushed him. Her interest returned to Godric, especially when she glimpsed the shield hanging off his nearby horse and recognised the similarities it shared with her father's coat-of-arms.

'That's a lion,' she said excitedly, pointing at the rampant creature, 'my father has a lion on his shield too.'

'He does,' Godric finally croaked. Eleanor looked up at him and frowned,

'Do you know my father?' she inquired.

'I do,'

'How?'

'Eleanor,' Siward tried to distract her, but his interruption was silenced when Godric held up a hand to calm his protests.

'Because I am his son,' Godric admitted ruefully. His sister regarded him in confusion before her eyes widened and she uttered a startled gasp.

'Godric?' Eleanor inquired tentatively. She seemed astonished that the towering man was her half-brother. When Godric nodded, her face broke into a beaming smile and she practically leaped up and down in unrestrained excitement, 'you're my brother Godric?'

'Yes,' the young knight revealed, laughing at her eccentric behaviour, 'I am your brother.'

Eleanor stopped bouncing, her smile falling as quickly as it had appeared. She suddenly looked concerned and upset.

'I'm sorry I didn't recognise you,' she exclaimed sadly, 'I've never met you before…'

'It's fine,' Godric spluttered in panic, unused to dealing with such swift changes in behaviour, and he'd lived with Salazar for five years, 'as you said, you've never met me before. I did not expect you to know me. Honestly, I'm surprised you've even heard my name?'

'So am I,' Siward interjected, looking bemused, 'your father never talks about you. I didn't think anyone did these days, but I must be wrong.' He didn't seem happy with that realisation.

'Tilda told me,' Eleanor said, pointing at her cowering nurse and causing the woman to shriek in fear, 'but she didn't say very nice things about you. She said that you did bad things.'

Godric snorted and shrugged, although Salazar's brow furrowed disapprovingly. Godric had expected it, for his very existence had once been a point of contention between a knight trying to preserve his familial dynasty and the local people whose fear had been sparked by the strange things his son could do. Yet, not even the lingering prejudices held against him could burst the warm sensation which suddenly stirred within him. He was pleasantly surprised by Eleanor. Whenever Godric had thought about the half-sister he had never met, a little girl forced to live with his morose and temperamental father, he'd expected to find a timid and sorrowful waif rather than the exuberant maid stood before him.

'Are you really a wizard?' Eleanor blurted out abruptly, unable to contain herself. Siward almost choked at her impropriety.

'Yes,' Godric answered cautiously, unsure of how she knew, but wagering that his father wasn't responsible for it.

'Can you really do magic?'

'Yes,' Godric replied, provoking delighted laughter from Eleanor.

'Tilda said that you can turn me into a toad,' Eleanor babbled enthusiastically, 'she says that wizards come to take naughty children away. She said wizards eat them or turn them into slimy toads…'

'How delightful,' Salazar commented dryly, revolted by the ignorance of Muggles.

'Could you do it?' Eleanor continued, looking at Godric expectantly.

'I can if you want?' Godric replied in bewilderment. He'd never turned anyone into a toad, although admittedly there were many occasions when he had been tempted to transfigure both his sworn brothers when their jests began to nettle his patience.

Eleanor looked appalled.

'I don't want to be a toad,' she said incredulously, 'you could turn Tilda into a horse when she annoys me. I could ride one then; father never lets me near his horses.'

'I wonder why,' Siward muttered beneath his breath, exchanging a knowing glance with Godric. The young knight's expression turned sheepish.

'Show me magic,' Eleanor demanded enthusiastically. Godric raised a questioning eyebrow at Siward, who merely shrugged expressionlessly. Looking back at his expectant sister, Godric discovered that he didn't have the heart to disobey her.

Godric drew his wand and effortlessly summoned a discarded bucket and stray stone to him, eliciting a startled gasp from the Muggle onlookers. Then, with a wave of his wand, the two objects shifted shape as they were engulfed by multiple tendrils of magic until the transformation was over and two dolls sat in their place. One was a knight clothed in a scarlet tabard and the other was a woman, clad in robes befitting a princess. Smiling in satisfaction, Godric was about to hand them over to his sister when he felt a spell slip past his arm. An intricately woven golden lion appeared upon the small knight's breast. Salazar smiled, clearly the culprit as he holstered his wand. The servants and retainers who watched on murmured in amazement, for many of them had never witnessed magic being cast before. Even Siward seemed warily impressed by.

Eleanor gasped in awed delight, a reaction so reminiscent of Godric when he had first been exposed to the magic of Avalon that it caused both Alain and Salazar to burst into a laughter.

'She's definitely your sister,' Salazar chuckled as Eleanor squealed her thanks and leaped up to take the dolls from a grinning Godric's hands and hugged them tightly. Her enthusiasm instantly brightened Black-Hollow's gloomy atmosphere.

'Now, run along,' Siward told her, abruptly interrupting Eleanor's intelligible chatter.

'But I'm being a lady…' Eleanor tried to protest, her ecstatic behaviour coming to an end. 'Eleanor,' Siward said sternly, emphasising the foolishness of trying his patience. Eleanor must have recognised it, for she sighed dramatically and the foot she was prepared to stamp halted immediately. She glared at Siward, before turning back to her brother and his companions, staring up at Godric with large, hopeful eyes.

'If you stay for a meal,' Eleanor said to him, 'can you sit beside me? I want to see more magic.'

'I wouldn't dream of sitting anywhere else,' Godric promised with a chuckle. She flashed a happy smile at the three visitors before scurrying away, her face glowing with glee as she reached the disapproving Tilda and was quickly ushered into the hall.

'She has the servants wrapped around her little finger,' Siward said grudgingly.

'Not just the servants,' Godric smirked, having noticed the effort SIward had gone to keep a smile off his face. Not even Salazar, the most cynical and jaded of them all, could find any harsh words to say about little Eleanor. Siward grunted, shaking his head knowingly.

'She's a light in this dark place,' Siward said with an honesty and sadness which belied his usually thorny exterior, 'although it's been many years not since anyone has demanded my attention as much as she does. Not since you were a boy. As you've probably realised, she has your curiosity.'

'Merlin help you,' Godric chuckled wryly, pitying the steward. Then noticed Siward's bemused expression,

'Merlin?' Siward asked in confusion,

'Sorry,' Godric apologised sheepishly, 'I forgot Muggles are unaccustomed to wizarding ways.'

'I know who Merlin is, lad,' Siward said ruefully, before looking at Godric appraisingly, 'although I always thought he was just a myth conjured by a clever poet. Don't pity me so badly. Eleanor isn't quite as problematic as you. For such a sickly child, you always had a way of finding trouble. I've never forgotten that incident with the horse…'

'Neither have I,' Godric murmured softly. It was hard to forget his first memory of magic when he had accidentally apparated away from a bolting horse. It felt like the incident had occurred in another lifetime; a different world where he was still a second son with a mother and brother he could depend upon. But that world had been lost to Godric a long time ago. He thought of the happy little girl he'd just met and feared for her, 'has Eleanor any signs of magic?'

'No,' Siward sighed. Alain was well versed in the timeless mistrust many Muggles had of wizards and ignored the steward's inability to mask his relief. Alain, who was used to Muggle prejudice and mistrust, ignored the slip. Salazar, less experienced than his former master, couldn't fully hide his irritation. Godric wasn't angered, for he understood the catalyst for Siward's relief. The steward didn't want Black-Hollow's villagers treating Eleanor like they had Godric. Godric shared the steward's sentiments, for he would never wish for Eleanor to be exposed to the same abuses he had suffered.

'Nothing out of the ordinary anyway,' Siward continued, 'not like you. Strange, unexplained happenings had a habit of occurring in your presence, even as a babe. Floating objects, missing items and bursting sparks which crackled like lightning when you were angered.'

'Such things are common in children with magical blood,' Alain explained helpfully, 'no child can control magic without training.'

'Well, it's not his father's blood which causes it,' Siward noted, 'I've served the Lords of Black-Hollow since Godric's grandfather's day and no one showed any hint of magic until Godric. It must have come from his mother…'

'Is that so bad?' Salazar asked peevishly.

'I meant no insult,' Siward growled, scowling at the disapproval which radiated from the proud young wizard, 'I have known many women in my life, but I have admired none more than Lady Alys. She was a serene little thing, but her frail body hid an iron will and a spirit which could rival many of the warriors I have known. Especially when it came to her children.'

'She was a good woman,' Alain noted solemnly, 'I intend to visit her grave whilst I am here. As her brother, it shames me to have shirked that duty for so long.'

'That is honourable, Lord,' Siward said, pleased with Alain's decision, 'and I can understand why you have delayed it. Sir Edmund is not the most receptive of men these days, especially when it comes to magic.'

'Hopefully, that will change,' Godric muttered softly.

After signally for the servants to take the men of Avalon's horses to the stables, Siward had just begun to usher the three travelers towards Black-Hollow's hall when a distracted watchman cried out that a band of riders was galloping towards the manor. His shout echoed off the timber walls, shortly followed by the rolling thunder of approaching hooves. A pair of retainers hurried to reopen the gates and a dozen mounted men rode clattered into the courtyard, armed with hunting spears and short bows. A pack of barking hounds leaping about their horses, whilst servants followed them at a run, bearing the prizes of a successful hunt.

The leading rider brought his horse to a sudden halt, a hawk perched on his outstretched hand ruffling its feathered wings attentively. He frowned in surprise at the sight of the three majestic horses being led to the stables and the jubilation of the hunting party was swiftly replaced by loud gasps of admiration and envy when they saw the mighty steeds of Avalon. Ignoring his companions and the irate falcon flapping madly on his arm, the riders gaze shifted from the horses to the great hall until they locked upon the four men standing at its threshold.

For the first time in six years, the Lord of Black-Hollow locked gazes with his estranged son. He hid his shock at Godric's miraculous apparition well, but the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed his well-hidden emotions. Godric stared back just as expressionlessly, the icy claw of dread enveloping his heart. The years had not been kind to Sir Edmund of Black-Hollow. Waxy skin, tired eyes, and a diminished stature all suggested that Sir Edmund had met hardship in the years since Godric was fostered in Avalon.

Nevertheless, Sir Edmund's gaze still sent a shiver down the younger man's spine, for the last time it had fallen upon Godric, the Lord of Black-Hollow's hands had stained with his son's blood. The strained silence was palpable, until Siward, ever the mediator between them, could no longer stomach their quarrel and sought to intervene.

'Sir Edmund,' the steward called out, 'we have visitors from Avalon. I was about to offer them a meal at your table.'

'Thank you, Siward,' Sir Edmund said curtly, unable to take his eyes from his son. The Lord of Black-Hollow would never admit it, but it was as if Sir Edmund had been flung back into the past to the year where three battles had decided the fate of England. He remembered returning from a similar hunting expedition with his elder brother and their household warriors. Sir Edmund had killed his first boar that day, and when they returned it was to find his father standing at the threshold of his hall where he welcomed them with a proud smile upon his battle-scarred face.

Now, the imposing figure who stood outside his hall was a son he was loathed to admit siring, but who looked like Sir Edmund's father reborn. Except for those cursed eyes, an heirloom of his mother's blood and which regarded Sir Edmund just as coldly as the glare he was receiving. The Lord of Black-Hollow's gaze briefly fell to the sword at Godric's hip and the young knight felt pride bloom within him when another flicker of shock crossed over his father's face.

'Avalon?' one of Sir Edmund's companions asked inquisitively, confused by the presence of these exotic strangers and obviously unfamiliar Alain's coat-of-arms, 'who are these strangers, Sir Edmund?'

'This is Lord Alain,' Sir Edmund finally found his voice. He looked as if he'd been forced to swallow poison as he dragged his gaze away from Godric to glare at his erstwhile brother-in-law, a man he hated more than any other, 'he is the ruler of Avalon and the brother of my first wife.'

Alain bowed his fair head and smiled amicably, despite having little respect for Sir Edmund. He chose to ignore the venomous glare he was receiving from the Lord of Black-Hollow.

'It is an honour to see you again, brother,' Alain commented, before greeting Sir Edmund's companions. None bowed back, for they were still stunned by the appearance such a great lord. Yet, their astonishment was amplified when Sir Edmund was shaken from his bitter stupor and gestured at the three strangers.

'My son Godric was fostered in Lord Alain's household,' the Lord of Black-Hollow explained coolly, 'he now stands amongst the Lord of Avalon's companions.'

Godric tensed as all of Sir Edmund's companions gaped in his direction. Some may have remembered the young man's name, but Godric doubted that they would see much of the little, timid child he had been in the man stood before them.

Sir Edmund dismounted, thrusting the reins into the hands of a passing servant and giving the hawk to his falconer. He appeared conflicted, his hesitance a clear indication of how unwelcome the men of Avalon were. But adherence to custom soon overcame his unwillingness to host the unexpected arrivals. Sir Edmund fiddled with his heavy cloak as he addressed them, refusing to look at his guests.

'Welcome to Black-Hollow.'

Standing at the threshold of the hall where he had been born, Godric had never felt more unwelcome in his life.