Shalott: End Play E-Book

Felicity Pulman

• Herausgeber: Holmes House Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Five teenagers set out into the unknown to change the legend of Camelot. Instead, they find they are rewriting their own lives and destiny.

Callie has the strong sense that her future is somehow linked to Guinevere, and that her quest is not yet over. But their final meeting puts her life in danger and her future happiness at stake. Cast adrift from all she knows, Callie must first find a way to save herself before she can save her sister and friends. But can she trust the treacherous Morgan le Fay to help her? As past and present collide, Callie's true quest becomes clear - but will she have the courage to see it through?

‘In this extraordinary trilogy Felicity Pulman shows both her understanding of the Arthurian legend, of the Shalott story, and a rich and imaginative capacity to expand and explore its deep meanings for today’s teenagers. This is an unsettling, unusual, intriguing and moving series, rich in character, action and mystery, full of the atmosphere of Arthurian legend, yet without falling into the trap of mere retelling.’ — Sophie Masson

Leseprobe

About Shalott: End Play

Five teenagers set out into the unknown to change the legend of Camelot. Instead, they find they are rewriting their own lives and destiny.

Callie has the strong sense that her destiny is somehow linked to Guinevere, and that her quest is not yet over. But their final meeting puts her life in danger and her future happiness at stake. Cast adrift from all she knows, Callie must first find a way to save herself before she can save her sister and friends. But can she trust the treacherous Morgan le Fay to help her? As past and present collide, Callie's true quest becomes clear - but will she have the courage to see it through?

Contents

About Shalott: End Play PROLOGUECHAPTER ONECHAPTER TWOCHAPTER THREECHAPTER FOURCHAPTER FIVECHAPTER SIXCHAPTER SEVENCHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINECHAPTER TENCHAPTER ELEVENCHAPTER TWELVECHAPTER THIRTEENCHAPTER FOURTEENCHAPTER FIFTEENAcknowledgementsAuthor’s NotesAbout Felicity Pulman Copyright

PROLOGUE

Guinevere shifted slightly to make herself and the baby more comfortable. The infant stopped suckling and looked up into her mother’s face with a dark, unfathomable gaze. Her heart brimming with tenderness, Guinevere ran a soothing finger across the baby’s forehead.

‘All is well, Ana,’ she murmured. As the baby commenced suckling once more, Guinevere uttered a small sigh of content. No wet nurse for Ana, even though Lancelot had offered to find someone for her. She had waited too long to forgo the joyous privilege of nursing her own child, and she treasured these quiet hours alone with her.

For a moment her eyes lifted to the window and the clear sky beyond. A hawk lay on the wind, sharp eyes focused on the ground below, searching for prey. Guinevere shivered, and cradled her child a little tighter in an involuntary gesture of protection. No harm must come near Ana. She would fight to the death, do everything in her power to guard her precious daughter so that, in time, Ana would fulfil the destiny Guinevere had planned for her — to keep the Old Ways alive and to celebrate them once more in court after the death of Arthur.

Ana. All her mother’s hopes and dreams rested on this tiny baby. Even her name was chosen with her destiny in mind, for her name lay within the name of the goddess Dana, the Great Mother who watched over her people, yet who was being driven from memory by Arthur’s Christian court. All the great festivals had been given different names to commemorate Christ’s birth and death rather than the seasons marked by the ancient calendar. With all her heart, Guinevere hoped that one day it would be safe for her and Lancelot to return from exile. And the Queen of the Western Isle’s mantle would pass to Ana, along with the knowledge taught to her by Guinevere.

Ana. Guinevere felt a frisson of fear. Would Dana understand she had named the child in good faith, to honour the Mother Goddess? She bowed her head. ‘Great Mother, please guard and protect my child; give her the wisdom and courage to bring the Old Ways back to the people of Camelot,’ she murmured.

Comforted, she dropped a light kiss on the baby’s forehead. Ana smiled up at her with Lancelot’s crooked smile, and Guinevere’s heart turned over with love and tenderness. Surely now, after all this time, surely they must be safe? Many moons had passed since Lancelot had ridden to her rescue and snatched her from the death by fire decreed by her lord, Arthur. Even now Guinevere trembled with the memory of that fateful day and what had happened to bring it about. A night with Lancelot, a night of joy such as she had never known, a night she’d hoped and prayed might bring about a longed-for miracle — new life in her womb. Even as she’d faced Arthur, her husband and king, the following day, and heard him pronounce both her guilt and her fate, Guinevere had wondered if he was unknowingly sending her unborn child to death.

Such dark days! But all was now well. Her rival for Lancelot’s love had disappeared on that day, along with her companions, and the child for whom she had yearned was now safe with her parents at Joyous Gard.

Guinevere lifted Ana to her shoulder. As she gently patted the baby’s back, she looked about her at the symbols of Lancelot’s love. Six hanging tapestries. They covered the stone walls and added richness and colour to her bedchamber. Lancelot had commissioned them within just a few days of bringing her to Joyous Gard, summoning the pattern-maker to their enchanted garden to record their hours spent on sweet kisses, music and poetry, dancing, and playing with the fabulous creatures Lancelot had encountered on his travels and brought home with him.

But the tapestries were not the only record of her life. Schooled by Cathbad the Druid and the ministers at the court of her father, King Leodegrance, Guinevere had learned to read and write before her marriage to the king. Now in exile on this island across the sea, she was putting those skills to good use, telling the story of Arthur and how he had united his people to do battle against their common enemy, so that Ana would know that her mother was once married to a brave and noble king. Guinevere had felt great grief and remorse as she recorded the high hopes and ideals of Arthur. Paying tribute to her husband helped, in some small way, to ease the guilt she felt in not being able to love him as he had deserved to be loved.

On a second parchment, Guinevere had written the story of her own life at court, and of her love for Ana’s father. Others might tell lies, spread rumours, and judge the lovers harshly while they were not present to defend themselves at court. Guinevere was determined that Ana should read and know the truth for herself.

Ana burped loudly, wrenching Guinevere from painful memory. Her lips curved into a fond smile. As she put the baby to her breast once more, her eyes lifted to the window. The hawk had disappeared. The hunt must be over. Perhaps, even now, Lancelot was coming to her? She listened intently. Yes. She could hear his tread on the stairs, becoming louder as he drew closer. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought of seeing him. The door flew open and Lancelot was by her side, his lips pressed to hers in an ardent kiss. He straightened then, and threw off his cloak.

‘Good hunting?’ Guinevere asked.

‘Not today. I’ve been with my steward. We’ve been inspecting the harvest. A little more rain, a little more sunshine, and we shall have enough bread and wine to see us comfortably through the coming winter, and with enough hay and feed in the barn for our animals to keep meat and milk also on the table.’

He smiled as he scooped the now sleeping Ana from Guinevere’s arms and cradled her to his broad chest. Gazing at them both, Guinevere felt such joy she thought she must surely burst with happiness. And yet, even as she basked in the light and warmth of Lancelot’s love, still she was uneasy. Sadness shadowed Lance’s brow; she knew he regretted his treason against Arthur. She wondered if he also mourned the disappearance of the Lady Charlotte.

Everything comes at a price, she thought, especially happiness.

She stood up and walked to the window, pushing aside the shutters to gaze out across the golden stubble of harvested wheat, the fruit-laden trees in the orchards and the dense red and green-leafed vines. The air smelled sweet and sunshine warmed her cheeks. How beautiful was this land across the sea! And how happy and comfortable she was, here at Joyous Gard with Lancelot.

‘Who could have dreamed we would find such happiness after all that has befallen us,’ she murmured.

‘I would feel more comfortable if I knew that Lady Charlotte and her company were safe.’ Lancelot came to join her at the window, carrying his sleeping daughter in his arms. ‘One moment they were riding in front of us, the next moment …’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘I would swear they just disappeared, yet that cannot be possible.’

‘They took a different road from us, that’s all,’ Guinevere said sharply, stung by his concern for the lady.

‘If they had turned onto a different path, I would have followed them.’

‘Even though Lady Charlotte betrayed you when she sold the Ninth Diamond you won for her at the tourney?’ Guinevere strove hard to keep the jealousy out of her voice as she reached up to touch the diamond at her throat.

Lancelot ignored the gesture, though his lips tightened momentarily. ‘They too were riding for their lives, Charlotte and her twin sister, and Stephen and his friend. I was the only one of us bearing arms. I would have followed them to protect them, and to keep us all safe.’

‘It would have been so much better if we had vanished along with them.’ As soon as Guinevere said the words, she regretted them. What had happened next was the greater part of Lancelot’s sorrow; she tried never to remind him of that fateful moment. But perhaps it should be spoken between them, so the poison building from that hurt might be lanced before it burst and overwhelmed them both.

She put her arms around Lancelot and Ana, drawing them close. ‘Those knights came after us with only one purpose — to capture and take me back to Arthur, and to kill you. I was in mortal fear when I saw you were one against so many, yet you fought like a lion and won our safety. You were not to know that Gareth was among the knights. They kept their faces guarded so that you could not know. Please, do not reproach yourself, Lancelot. Those knights knew they would be fighting a champion, and they took their chance against you. And they lost. I can only be glad of it, for if they had won we would not be here, and neither would Ana.’

‘You speak the truth and yet, had I known Gareth was among them, I would as soon cut off my right arm than kill him. He was as dear to me as mine own brother. No, I did wrong that day, Guinevere. I should rather have crippled their horses instead. We could still have made our escape.’

‘And Arthur would have sent more, and yet more knights in their place.’ She laid her hand on Lancelot’s arm. ‘Come, it is done. You must try to forget.’

‘Arthur will not forget. Nor will he forgive us. And neither will Gareth’s brother, Gawain. That is why sentries are still posted on the battlements day and night to keep watch, to keep us safe.’

‘No one can come across the sea without our knowing of it. You told me so yourself,’ Guinevere protested.

‘True, it is difficult unless you know the way or have a guide,’ Lancelot agreed. ‘When the tide is in, and Joyous Gard is surrounded by water, the hidden rocks and savage currents protect us. And when the tide is out, no one would dare to cross the causeway from the mainland without a guide, lest he be swallowed up in quicksand. Besides, my people are loyal. No stranger may enter my domain without it being reported to me.’

‘Why then do you need to post sentries? Surely we are safe now?

‘If Arthur comes, if he finds someone to show him the way, then I mean to be ready for him.’ A spasm of pain contorted Lancelot’s features. ‘How shall I face him, Guinevere? He was my friend. My brother-in-arms. My lord and king.’

‘Your rival,’ she contradicted, her tone a little too sharp.

Lancelot sighed. ‘That too,’ he admitted quietly. ‘You are my only consolation, Guinevere, you and our child. For you I would give up my life, even my soul.’

‘Tish,’ she said, a false brightness in her tone as she tried to lighten his mood. ‘We have been here almost a year, and there has been no sign of trouble in all that time. You may be sure Arthur has forgotten all about us by now. He was always more concerned with being a king than being a husband.’

Guinevere stepped back from the window and took the sleeping infant from Lancelot’s arms. She dropped a kiss on Ana’s fuzzy dark hair, then lowered her into her cradle and drew up the covers.

‘Come.’ She took Lancelot’s arm. ‘I have been in my bedchamber most of the morning, and I crave a little fresh air. Shall we walk upon the battlements before dining?’

Lancelot nodded. Guinevere called for Ana’s nurse to keep watch over the baby, and together they left the bedchamber and climbed the stone spiral to the top of the keep. With a sigh of pleasure, Guinevere surveyed the patterned mosaic of fields, orchards, vineyards and forest spread before her. Sunlight lay upon them like a blessing, while the cooing of pigeons sang a sweet accompaniment in her ears.

She walked on, Lancelot by her side, to survey the far side of the castle. The tide was in; water surrounded the island, covering the treacherous sands and jagged rocks in its depths. The sea lapped at the stone walls of the castle, calm and gentle today, yet Guinevere had witnessed the wild storms that frequently ravaged the island fortress, seen waves thunder and smash against the walls in an agony of boiling foam and pluming spray while flashes of lightning cracked open the sky.

A glimpse of white caught her eye. She squinted into the sunlight. A sail? Lancelot had seen it too. He said nothing but stood beside her, quietly waiting. The minutes stretched long as the speck drew closer, finally revealing itself as a craft of considerable size. The sail bore a huge cross, which meant the travellers came not from Arthur, but from the Pope in Rome. Yet a red flag at the rear of the boat spoke otherwise. It was the flag of the red dragon. Arthur’s flag. The Pendragon had come for them, with all the might and authority of Rome behind him.

Guinevere squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, trying to ward off her fear. Lancelot uttered a choked exclamation of despair as he put his arm around her and hugged her close to him. She gazed up into his dear face, her vision blurring with tears. A movement beyond Lancelot caught her attention. It was the hawk, gliding closer, intent on its prey. Guinevere felt its shadow pass over her, and in that moment she knew they were lost, and the future with them.

CHAPTER ONE

‘Listen, El, I want to apologise. That thing with Josie was all a big mistake.’

Callie broke her stride, but El didn’t. She shot out her hand to grip Callie’s arm and marched on with determined steps, dragging her twin sister along with her.

Greg hurried to keep pace with them. ‘I’ve got tickets for the Brazza gig tonight. Will you come with me?’

‘No.’ El kept on walking.

‘It’s your favourite band. That’s why I got a ticket for you.’

‘Take Josie.’

‘I told you. It’s all off between us.’

‘Does Josie know that?’ El stopped and looked at Greg, her face stony with contempt. ‘Or are you hoping I’m going to tell her, just like you left it to her to tell me you didn’t want to go out with me anymore?’

‘No! She knows it’s all off between us, I swear she does.’

‘Drop dead, Greg.’ El swung on her heel and marched on, leaving Callie to run after her.

‘What was that all about?’ Callie asked as she caught up with her sister. ‘I thought you were still rapt in Greg?’

‘He’s a weasel.’ El pushed through the students clogging the doorway into the classroom and flopped down at her desk. ‘But I’m glad that’s over,’ she admitted, with a grin. ‘I was dreading seeing him again in case I made a total fool of myself. But you know what? I feel good about it. It was dead easy telling the creep what I thought of him.’ She cast a glance at a blonde girl who was leaning out the door, checking the corridor and stairs beyond. ‘Maybe I should warn Josie?’

‘She wouldn’t believe you.’ Privately, Callie felt like cheering her sister for standing up to her one-time boyfriend and the girl who’d taken El’s place while she was in hospital. They’d all thought El was dying, but that hadn’t stopped Greg from dumping her and getting together with Josie.

‘Who wouldn’t believe what?’ Meg asked. She dropped her backpack on the floor and plonked herself down at a desk beside them.

‘Greg just asked me out.’

Meg gave a long, slow whistle. ‘And?’ She exchanged a glance with Callie. Both of them knew how devastated El had been when she found out Greg had dumped her.

‘I told him to drop dead.’ El smiled as Meg gave her a high five.

‘Does that mean you’ll go out with Stephen now?’ she asked.

‘No! Anyway, he hasn’t asked me.’

‘I bet he will,’ Meg predicted confidently.

‘Why should he? We usually argue whenever we meet.’

‘That’s cos you’re so similar. That’s why you should be friends at least,’ Meg urged.

‘It’s not going to happen,’ Callie said. ‘Even if you can’t see it, and even if Stephen won’t admit it yet, I reckon he and Hal might …’

‘No!’ El gave a grunting laugh. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I think you may be right.’ She looked at Callie. ‘I wish we could sort out your problems with Lancelot as easily. Be honest, there must be someone living in this century you’d like to go out with?’

Callie didn’t answer. She pulled out a notebook and started to flip through it.

‘Lancelot escaped with Guinevere. You know that, Callie,’ El said impatiently. ‘We were there when it happened. And you know what happens next. Even I know what happens next, cos you kept me awake half the night grumbling about it.’

‘Yeah. Ms Hope’s rapt in our sudden interest in Tennyson’s poetry, and how much we know about the legend of King Arthur. This is one subject we’re going to pass for sure.’ Meg grinned at the thought.

Callie sniffed, and blinked back her tears. Not only had she not succeeded in changing the legend, she couldn’t shake the growing sense that she’d left something undone, that something was desperately wrong.

Guinevere’s words came back to her: You have to survive this! And so must I. We have not yet ... Callie was filled with a fear that had no form and no name, and was all the more frightening because of it. She kept her head bowed as she continued trying to hide her tears.

‘It’s over. You know it’s all over,’ said El. ‘After Lancelot rescues Guinevere from being burnt at the stake, he takes her to Joyous Gard, but a messenger from the Pope persuades her to go back to Camelot to heal the kingdom. Meanwhile Gawain persuades Arthur to make war against Lancelot in revenge for the death of his brother, Gareth.’

‘And while Arthur’s out of the way, Mordred tells everyone he’s dead and seizes the throne,’ said Meg, quoting their English teacher.

‘And tries to seize Guinevere too,’ El added. ‘So Arthur comes rushing back, and he and Mordred fight a battle at Camlann and kill each other. And that was the end of Camelot.’ El draped an arm around Callie’s shoulders and gave her a sympathetic hug. ‘It’s all over, and you have to forget him,’ she advised. ‘It’s time to come back to the real world.’

‘How do we know those old chronicles got all the details right?’ Callie asked. ‘They don’t even mention us when Arthur condemned Guinevere to burn, but we were right there!’

‘That’s probably cos we disappeared from the scene when we zapped back here. I expect the witnesses didn’t know what to say about us, so they didn’t say anything at all.’

‘You’re not planning to go back there again, are you?’ Meg asked.

Callie shook her head. ‘What’s the point? It’s all too late.’

‘So it’s time to deal with the here and now,’ El said crisply, as she waved an airy hand towards the guys congregated at the back. ‘Pick someone. Anyone. And I’ll see if I can fix up a date for you.’

‘No, thanks.’ Callie shook her head. ‘I love Lancelot. I always will.’

Despite her good intentions, El gave a snort of laughter. ‘I agree he’s a legend, but he’s not real in our world!’ she spluttered.

Not real? Callie felt a surge of grief. Lancelot seemed far more real to her than anyone right here in the classroom.

There was a ripple of movement as everyone scattered to their desks.

‘Callie?’ Ms Hope’s voice rang through the quietened classroom.

Callie looked up. Their English teacher had come through the door and was walking towards her, looking worried.

‘You’re very pale. I hope you haven’t caught what El was suffering from?’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’ But Callie didn’t feel fine. She felt utterly miserable and frightened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d failed both herself and Guinevere.

Ms Hope was still talking to her. ‘I meant to ask you if you know what’s happened to that student you brought into class a few weeks ago. Lev? I haven’t seen him again. Do you know where he is? Do you have any idea what’s become of him?’

Callie didn’t feel up to trying to explain that Lev was now in Camelot, so she kept mute.

‘I’ve spoken to the school counsellor about him and she says she’s definitely able to help. I think I’m right in saying that Lev has no home?’ Ms Hope continued.

‘He has now,’ El muttered under her breath.

‘What was that?’ The teacher shifted her bright gaze to El.

‘Lev’s moved away. He’s found somewhere else to live,’ said El. ‘A long way from here,’ she added quickly, forestalling Ms Hope’s next question.

‘I’m very glad to hear that.’ She gave Callie a last frown of concern before turning to the rest of the class. ‘Today we move from Tennyson to Oodgeroo Noonuccal, the first Aboriginal woman to publish a book of verse in Australia,’ she announced.

Callie exhaled a silent breath of relief that they’d no longer be discussing Camelot in class. It was over. She knew, with a terrifying certainty, that she’d never again go to Camelot for there was nothing left for her there. She had loved Lancelot and lost him not once but twice, and now she had to deal with life in the twenty-first century.

Callie snatched up her poetry book to hide her bitter tears. It made it so much worse to know that Lancelot believed she’d sold the diamond he’d given her rather than cherishing it as she’d wanted to do. If only she could have seen him one more time, just to explain what had really happened. Instead, Lancelot had rescued the queen and they’d fled to Joyous Gard where no doubt they were blissfully happy. By now, Lancelot might well have forgotten she’d ever existed.

The thought shrivelled Callie’s soul. She felt sick with the knowledge, sick and fearful. The last days of Camelot might already have played out to their inevitable and tragic conclusion. Arthur and Mordred both dead; Guinevere in an abbey in Amesbury and Lancelot in a hermitage, where they would spend the rest of their days stricken with grief and remorse over their role in Arthur’s downfall.

Callie blinked as a sudden thought struck her. Guinevere in an abbey? That didn’t sound right. Guinevere was no Christian. That had been part of the trouble between her and Arthur — that she and her acolytes still paid homage to the Great Mother, the Mother Goddess. So what had really become of Guinevere and Lancelot? Had she conceived a child with him? Would they live happily ever after at Joyous Gard, just like in a fairy tale? And would Lance ever think about the Lady Charlotte, who’d loved him more than life itself, or was his heart now so filled with Guinevere that he wouldn’t spare her even a moment’s thought?

Callie gave up all pretence of listening to Ms Hope. She rested her elbows on her desk and shielded her face with her hands to hide the tears sliding down her cheeks.

‘I think you should take Callie home, El. She’s obviously not well.’

Callie felt the light touch of Ms Hope’s hand on her shoulder. Embarrassed, she hunched down into her seat, trying to become invisible.

‘Okay.’ El hooked her arm through Callie’s, and hauled her to her feet. ‘I told Callie she was too sick to come to school today,’ she said in a loud voice as she hurried her towards the door.

Callie felt a flicker of gratitude that El was still looking out for her, even if she couldn’t understand her sister’s misery.

‘Shall I call an Uber?’ El asked, once they were outside. She pulled her phone out of her backpack.

Callie shook her head. ‘I’d rather walk.’ She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand and blew her nose. ‘I’m fine really, apart from the fact I’ve just made a total idiot of myself,’ she mumbled.

‘Who cares?’ El tucked her phone into her pocket and fell into step beside Callie. As they kicked through drifts of crisp autumn leaves, she said, ‘You really did love old Lancelot, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah. I really thought I’d be able to seduce him, and take him away from the queen. I never expected to fall in love with him instead.’ Lancelot. It hurt even to hear his name. Callie tilted her head to study the fiery red and gold liquidambars blazing a line down the street. ‘I wonder what season it is in Camelot now? I put in a date before we went the first time, but their days seem to pass far more quickly than ours in real time.’

‘So Camelot might have come to an end already?’

Callie shrugged, trying to ignore the cold fear that lay like lead in her belly. ‘Dad’s tried to explain how his own program at work is designed to intersect time and space so that participants can observe other times and other countries. At least that’s the theory of it; he hasn’t got it to work yet. And he doesn’t have the right equipment to make it work at home. So we still don’t have any idea how the five of us managed to get to Camelot.’

‘What I don’t get is why only you could remember what happened there the first time, but we could all remember the second time we went?’

‘I think it might be because I erased all of you from my scenario because I didn’t want you to interfere. But I didn’t have time to delete you from the program itself before the accident that sent us there the first time. It’s the only reason I can think of, because last time we went, you were all in the program and I saved it.’

‘All except Meg.’

‘No, I deleted her image when I thought we were going to Tintagel. Lev was already in Camelot — and so was Magrit. It’s just so, so lucky that Meg didn’t come with us.’ Callie sighed. ‘Dad’s been experimenting; he’s desperate to do what we did. Even though he’s imported maps covering all of Europe, he hasn’t been able to time-travel anywhere at all. He’s so cranky he can’t do it!’

‘It’s good the maps are there now. They’ll keep Lev safe from leaving your program by mistake.’

‘Yeah, because he does move around,’ Callie agreed. ‘According to the legend, Sir Lavaine followed Lancelot to Brittany. Lance gave him land there, and all sorts of other privileges.’ She pulled a face. ‘Malory also says that he married Sir Urre’s sister, Dame Felelolie.’

‘Not Magrit? I really thought they had something going between them.’

Callie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what became of her. There’s no mention of her at all. But it was all so long ago, and in another realm, that it’s amazing those old annals got to tell any part of the story at all.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Although I sometimes wonder if we were actually creating some of it just by being there,’ she added.

El tipped her head to the side. ‘You may well be right,’ she acknowledged. ‘Or maybe it wasn’t you at all; maybe it was all to do with magic?’

‘Are you suggesting we had no control over what happened there, or even any choice about going?’ Callie frowned at her sister.

‘I don’t know. I’m just saying.’

Magic? Certainly both Nimue and Morgan were capable of working magic, Callie thought.

‘When you set up the scenario, maybe you were opening a portal through to Camelot. But it was actually Morgan, or Vivien, or that other high priestess, Nimue, who brought us through?’ El continued.

Callie’s eyes widened. ‘That could be why Dad’s not getting anywhere with it!’ She clicked her tongue. ‘He’ll be so disappointed if that’s what really happened.’

‘So are you going to forget about old Lancelot now and get on with your life, or are you going to keep trying to go back there?’ El asked.

‘No, I’m not ever going back. I’ve had enough. Besides, the Camelot I created was wiped.’ Callie shivered with the memory. With an effort she dragged her thoughts back to the present. ‘After you contracted the plague the first time, and then I came back with scorched feet and ankles next time, Dad made me promise not to try any more experiments on my own.’ She heaved a gusty sigh. ‘I just wish I knew the real reason why we managed to get to Camelot — or maybe were summoned to Camelot.’

‘Do you think we went back for some other reason than saving Camelot?’

‘I’m beginning to think so. That didn’t work, but …’ Callie hesitated, wondering if she could put her anxiety into words.

El voiced it for her. ‘Maybe your quest isn’t over yet? Maybe we do need to go back one more time?’

Icy needles prickled down Callie’s back. Danger. Darkness. An overwhelming sense of evil. She shuddered and briefly closed her eyes. Now she could hear a cat crying. Or a baby? She opened her eyes and looked around. No cats; no baby either. Yet she’d heard these sounds before, in Camelot. A child crying. What did it mean?

She stopped dead as the wails increased in volume. The infant sounded terrified. Alarmed, Callie scanned the busy street more carefully, but she couldn’t see any babies, crying or otherwise.

A truck roared past, grinding its gears and drowning out all other sounds.

‘You may be right,’ Callie admitted, with a shudder. ‘Maybe we were taken there for some other reason. But I really don’t want to go back again and risk seeing Guinevere and Lancelot together.’

‘The last time we were there we were lucky to escape with our lives,’ El said thoughtfully.

‘And that’s why I’ve promised Dad I won’t try to go there or anywhere else again.’

‘If you’re worried about it, why don’t you ask Dad to stay in the studio and monitor us? He’d be able to act instantly to get us out of trouble if necessary.’ El’s eyes lit up. ‘Or we could try going somewhere fun instead — like a Roman orgy, for instance!’

Callie gave a reluctant grin. ‘It’s a thought,’ she admitted, ‘but I can’t see Dad agreeing to that, can you?’

‘He’d probably want to come too!’

‘Nah.’ Callie shook her head. ‘He’s much too involved with Veronica.’

‘I don’t suppose it’s easy facing two teenage girls who don’t want their father to get married again.’

‘She’s such a try-hard!’ Callie was silent for a moment. ‘I can’t believe he just let Mum go away like that!’ she burst out.

‘It was Mum’s decision to go back north. You heard her. That’s where her life is now, and her friends and everything.’

‘Yeah, but she can paint just as well here as she can there. She’s got some old friends here too.’

‘Face it, Callie. She came to see us when I was sick, but she could have visited us long before then if she’d really wanted to see us. Dad couldn’t have stopped her. She only came back because Gran told her about me.’

‘She didn’t come before because she thought we didn’t want to see her.’

‘Pfft!’ El snapped impatiently. ‘If I loved my kids, I’d make every effort to see them, even if just to explain why I had to go in the first place. Mum didn’t even phone us, never mind coming to see us.’

Callie was silent for a moment, digesting the truth of El’s words. Although she’d tried to harden her heart against her mother after she’d returned so unexpectedly, Callie had loved having her home again. But, just when she began to hope her parents might be reconciled, her mother announced she was going back to Queensland. Because of Veronica? Callie didn’t know, but she bore a grudge against their father’s new partner because of it. She kicked at a pile of leaves, sending them scattering in a shower of red and gold.

‘So you don’t think we should go back to Camelot — or even try for a Roman orgy?’ El asked, with a sidelong glance at Callie.

‘No. I don’t want to go anywhere. Dad’s right — it’s dangerous to interfere with the past. It has all sorts of unforeseen consequences. I’m happy to leave him to experiment on his own now.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ El grinned at her. ‘How shall we spend our free afternoon,’ she asked. ‘Should we go to the movies, maybe see that new romcom everyone’s raving about?’

Callie gave a mournful sniff. ‘No romance, thanks. I couldn’t stand it.’

‘What about shopping for some trendy new gear?’ El sidestepped a woman pushing a stroller.

Callie gave a wan smile. Suddenly, she stopped dead. She could hear the terrified wails of a baby again. Her face went white as she peered after the young mother and her sleeping child.

‘Callie?’ El grasped hold of her arm and gave her a shake.