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was best at, but he knew that, and he laboured at them with a will.
    Little brother, you make a fine man.
    Sir Bedivere bowed. “Our thanks to the lady of the house.” The words fell awkwardly from his unaccustomed tongue, but there was unmistakably dignity in his speech. “We accept with honour and great pleasure.”
    Yestin stood aside, and let the knights circle the table to take their places at the board with Sir Bedivere at mother’s right hand. Elen wished she could sit with them too, and hear what was said, but her work was a long way from done. Women and boys spread out through the hall with pitchers of cider and beer. The wine was reserved for the high table and Elen and Carys served there themselves. Old Beven sat before the nearest fire with his harp and played sweetly, singing light and gentle airs.
    Once the drink was served, the food was processed in. First came her mushrooms stewed with onions and served with plenty of good brown bread. Then came silver trout from the river, cooked in their own broth and served on long wooden platters with fresh herbs sprinkled over and around them. Then came roasted wood pigeons stuffed with more herbs and the very last of the previous years chestnuts and covered with peppery gravy. They’d traded six head of cattle for that pepper, but the way the men of Camelot exclaimed over it made Elen believe her mother had been right to acquire it.
    Last came two swine, roasted whole and shimmering in their glaze of broth, thyme and honey, filling the entire hall with their luscious scent. Their arrival, each born in at shoulder height by two boys in white tunics, sent a cheer through the hall. The men of Camelot raised their wine cups to their hostess, and even Urien smiled and clapped his hands in appreciation as the great dish was set on the high table.
    The evening passed in enjoyment and fellowship. Urien kept his manners and spoke only to the men on his left and right, although he watched the men from Camelot most carefully. But so too did every other man in the hall.
    Slowly, the swine were picked down to the bones. Beven at last began running short of songs and was bringing out his most ancient jokes. Elen’s feet ached from running back and forth, and her hands were weary from hefty the jugs of cider and jars of wine, but she was proud and happy. They had shown their house to be a proper one, worthy of respect.
    As if to prove her thought, Sir Bedivere rose to his feet. Beven laid his hands against his strings, stilling them.
    In the silence, Bedivere bowed toward Adara. “If my lady permits …?” Mother nodded her assent. Sir Bedivere gestured to Kynon who also stood and bowed. He spoke, pitching his voice to carry to all assembled. “My captain, Sir Bedivere bids me speak in praise of this high house, and all within, but first and foremost Lady Adara who has given three outlanders such brave and honourable welcome.”
    A cheer went up at these words, and cups were raised. Elen felt herself smiling. She also found her gaze drifting to the silent knight with the blue eyes. He was watching Sir Bedivere and Sir Kynon with all signs of attention. Did he understand the man? She still had not heard him speak once during the entire feast. He only watched.
    What do you see?
she wondered.
And what do you make of it?
    â€œTrue friendship between men is a rich treasure,” Kynon went on. “It is a glory to go in quest of it, and one of the rewards of Heaven to find it.” The speech was beginning to sound rehearsed, but it was pretty and proud nonetheless. “How much moreso then is friendship between great chiefs and kings? For when there is friendship between kings, there is peace and prosperity between their lands, and all of Heaven and Earth must smile upon them and shower them with plenty for as long as their friendship shall last.”
    More cheers went up at this, and more toasts were drunk in praise of it. But not by