‘I have never heard of Camelot.’ John pointed at the misty outline of the tall tower in the distance. ‘That castle yonder is Harundel, built almost a hundred years ago by the Earl of Shrewsbury, Roger de Montgomery. But the king owns it and he is now in residence. And we are his subjects.’
‘Harundel?’ Callie echoed, her eyes following the direction of his pointing finger. ‘I must have mistaken it,’ she said quickly. ‘But which king owns it now, King Arthur — or his son, King Mordred?’
To her surprise, John began to guffaw loudly. His brother joined in his hearty laughter. ‘Begging your pardon, my lady,’ he said, as his mirth subsided and he remembered his place. ‘Someone has been telling you a fairy story, for I have never heard of either of them.’ His eyes twinkled as he looked up at he
