Chapter Seven
Spring 520
Time was running out.
The inevitable clash between father and son was drawing near. According to my latest communication with Pelles, Arthur and his troops were even now at sea, heading toward home. By the next full moon, they would no doubt be matched in pitched battle.
I set aside Pelles’s letter with a sigh and looked out the window across the burned-out shell of the western tower, down to the village below, wondering if Arthur would even recognize his home when he returned. Though this day appeared no different from any other, with tradesmen, fishermen, servants, and soldiers all going about their daily lives, there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, as though we were under constant threat of a storm about to break. If we could feel it even here in
