Mordred blinked. ‘The court is Christian. Those who still followed the Old Ways quickly chose Christ when the time came to go in search of the Holy Grail. And we defend ourselves under the cross in battle, so that we are not mistaken for the barbarians.’
‘And you, Sir Mordred?’ Meg thought of his aunt Morgan and his belief in her prophecy. ‘Which god, or goddess, do you worship?’
Mordred sighed. ‘My family has always followed the Old Ways,’ he said obliquely.
Meg had finished her salmon. Still hungry, she picked up the slice of bread and was about to take a bite when Mordred grasped her arm.
‘The trencher is not for us, lady. It will be given to the poor to eat, along with our scraps, after we have feasted.’
She dropped the bread quickly, feeling stupid, and Mordred’s squire placed on
