'Perhaps our meeting was fated, Igraine.' He gazed down at her as she leant silently against him. 'I would take you from him, make you mine. I wish to protect you, to hold you always. I…'
'Igraine!' The shout came from just a short distance away, and the couple quickly stepped apart, with Uther turning to watch the dancers and Igraine withdrawing once more into the shadows. Uther glanced back and saw Duc Gerlois walking uncertainly towards him. The Duc was showing signs that he had been drinking heavily, he held a clay cup, carelessly spilling its contents as he walked, his head turning left and right, searching for his wife. Face flushed; he wore the familiar scowl set rigidly in place, but then his eyebrows rose as he recognised his King and he stopped short. The clay cup fell and broke
