PEN DINAS
eil, Torn, and four of the Queen’s guardsmen raced to the top of Pen Dinas in the last hour of the day, their horses lathered with sweat.
“Make haste, Keil,” Torn said. “We will lose the sun in moments!”
Keil dismounted and opened the parchment map Sister Aranwen and Cadwyn had painstakingly drawn for him a week earlier. His hands were shaking as he recalled the testy exchange between the two women that day.
“It … it was so long ago, Cadwyn! Wait … wait, I do remember. We were staying at Pen Dinas. It was a moonlit night … the Queen didn’t know I was watching. She walked down to the wall, the one that encircles the tower. She put something behind a rock. It must be the ring. Yes! It is in the wall.”
“In the wall? Sister, there are a thousand rocks in that wall. We have to know which one,” Cadwyn had said with exasperation.
“Patience, child. It is coming back to me. The Queen … she stopped at the rock on the hill … the big one, and then walked straight down from the rock to the wall. She walked with some care, as if—”
“—she was marking the spot! The ring is there!”
Keil scanned the hill below the old tower and spied the large rock embedded in the earth ten paces from the wall marked on the map. He ran down the hill, glancing at the fading sun as he did so. After circling to the side of the rock facing the wall, he walked down the hill in a straight line and knelt beside the wall.
The mortar holding the rocks in place was crumbling and much of it was covered with moss, but there was nothing there to give him a clue as to which of the hundreds of stones could be the right one. The guardsman reached for a square stone and tried to pull it free. It would not move. He tried another and another. All were still held fast by mason’s mortar. Then his eyes fixed on a rock farther to the right, a rock with a slight discoloration in the center. He reached for the rock and gave it a tentative push. It moved.
The guardsman drew in a breath as he placed both hands on the rock and pulled. It came free. He reached into the space behind the rock, and his trembling hand closed on a small wooden box. He drew the box from its hiding place and opened it. There was a golden ring within.
Keil gently closed the box and stood. He turned to Torn and the other guardsmen waiting on the hill above.
“We have done it!”
The taciturn Torn gave him a rare smile and then glanced at the sun, just passing below the horizon.
“Replace the stone, Guardsman Keil, and make haste! We don’t want to be late for the wedding, do we?”
ABBEY CWM HIR
As Percival stood at the altar beside Capussa, waiting for the Queen to emerge from the sacristy, he glanced out the window across from him. Thousands of tents covered nearly every patch of open grass within a half league of the abbey, ranging from the grand and stately shelters erected for the wealthier nobles and knights, to the modest shelters cobbled together by farmers and herdsmen. All desired to gain just a glimpse of the royal couple and to be able to say to their children and grandchildren that they were there on that historic fall day.
Although the church could only hold a fraction of the people desirous of attending the ceremony, the first row had been set aside to honor the members of a departed brotherhood. Thirty gleaming swords anchored in blocks of stone stood in the pew, each engraved with the name of a deceased Knight of the Table.
When Guinevere emerged from the sacristy with the bishop, followed by Sister Aranwen and Lady Cadwyn, the quiet murmur in the church fell silent, and Percival and Capussa dropped to one knee. The Queen, resplendent in a magnificent white dress, walked over to the two men, a radiant smile on her face.
“Please rise,” Guinevere said and extended her hand to her betrothed.
Percival took her hand, and the couple walked over to the waiting bishop. When the marriage vows had been said, Capussa, standing beside Sir Percival, handed the Knight the wedding ring. Guinevere’s eyes widened as Percival slipped the golden ring on her finger, and for a moment, she stared at it, remembering a wish made long ago, one that now had been granted. She glanced over at Sister Aranwen and Cadwyn, seated two paces away, and smiled, a look of profound gratitude on her face.
Guinevere turned to Percival and the couple kissed. When they parted, the Queen and the Knight stared into each other’s eyes in silence, as if willing the moment to last forever. Then the royal couple turned and faced the assembled notables in the church, and they were met with a thunder of applause that shook the very walls of the old chapel.
As Sir Percival waited for the joyous clamor to die down, he looked over at the line of swords standing in the front pew, silently witnessing the ceremony, and for a moment, they were standing there—all of them. His gaze moved from Lancelot to Kay, to Tristan and Gawain, and each of the others, until at last, it came to rest upon the knight at the end of the pew—the knight with the rogue’s smile and the devil-may-care look he would never forget.
Then, in a heartbeat, the Knights disappeared. As he stared at the line of steel sentinels left behind, Percival said a silent prayer for his departed brethren and asked for their prayers as well, for he knew he would need them in the days to come.
Guinevere saw the look on his face and whispered, “Percival, what is it?”
The Knight looked down at his beautiful wife and Queen and smiled. “I was just saying good-bye to my brothers.”
THE END
