The Du Lac Chronicles Book #4
by Mary Anne Yarde
Two Prophesies. Two Noble Households. One Throne.
Distrust and greed threaten to destroy the House of du Lac. Mordred Pendragon strengthens his hold on Brittany and the surrounding kingdoms while Alan, Mordred’s cousin, embarks on a desperate quest to find Arthur’s lost knights. Without the knights and the relics they hold in trust, they cannot defeat Arthur’s only son – but finding the knights is only half of the battle. Convincing them to fight on the side of the Du Lac’s, their sworn enemy, will not be easy.
If Alden, King of Cerniw, cannot bring unity there will be no need for Arthur’s knights. With Budic threatening to invade Alden’s Kingdom, Merton putting love before duty, and Garren disappearing to goodness knows where, what hope does Alden have? If Alden cannot get his House in order, Mordred will destroy them all.
“I think you are wasting your time. There is no need for relics and ancient weapons. We have God.”
“Well then the next time you are speaking to God could you ask him to send us an army of angels and several legions of knights on horseback,” Pert replied.
Everyone turned to look at Pert for his words were bordering on blasphemy and his tone was disrespectful.
Pert tore at the bread he had been given with his teeth and began to chew slowly.
“Your tongue is as sharp as the serpents,” the Abbot stated with contempt. “With the passing of the years and the hardships you have faced I would have thought you would have learnt by now when to keep your opinions to yourself.”
Pert scoffed and carried on eating.
“He and I never did see eye to eye,” the Abbot explained to Alan and Bernice. “Even as a young knight, he was always opinionated.”
“Pert was a knight?” Alan asked, but the Abbot ignored him.
“Arthur never complained that I was opinionated,” Pert replied.
“No, I don’t suppose he did.”
Pert scoffed again, but the Abbot ignored him.
“Were you there when Arthur died?” Bernice asked.
Alan stood up straighter. He was interested in the Abbot’s answer. Even Pert, he noticed, had stopped chewing and was looking at the Abbot.
“Yes. Bedwyr brought him here. I tried my very best, but the wound was fatal. There was nothing I could do but make his last moments as comfortable as I could. He didn’t want to die. He said there was too much still to do. He breathed his last in this very room.”
“Where is he buried?” Alan asked.
“I am afraid that is a secret,” the Abbot replied. “There are those who would desecrate his grave and steal his body away. Only myself and one other knows where Arthur rests. When will you retrieve the Shield?” The Abbot turned to Pert when he asked this question.
“Tonight, after the castle has fallen asleep.”
“The castle?” Alan asked.
“That is where the Shield is,” Pert stated.
“That is where Percival… I mean that is where Wihtgar said it was as well.”
“Everyone in Wessex knows it is there. They just don’t know where it is,” Pert said matter-of-factly. “Believe me, they have looked. They would kick themselves if they knew where it really was.”
“The best hiding places are the ones in plain view,” the Abbot replied thoughtfully.
“Well you should know, my Lord,” Pert said, rising to his feet and brushing the breadcrumbs from his clothes. “You buried Arthur after all.”
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