Shalott: Into the Unknown 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's quest was simple: to change the fate of the Lady of Shalott on a computer program and save her along with King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. But when the five teenagers find themselves in Camelot, they become caught up in the illicit love affair between Lancelot and Guinevere, the intrigues of the court, and the ambition of the magical Morgan le Fay. Do they have enough courage to survive the dangers they face? And how can they find their way home when everything they have ever known and believed is challenged? What Callie finds in Camelot will break her heart, while her quest will change all of their lives forever.

‘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: Into the Unknown

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’s quest was simple: to change the fate of the Lady of Shalott on a computer program and save her along with King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. But when the five teenagers find themselves in Camelot, they become caught up in the illicit love affair between Lancelot and Guinevere, the intrigues of the court, and the ambition of the magical Morgan le Fay. Do they have enough courage to survive the dangers they face? And how can they find their way home when everything they have ever known and believed is challenged? What Callie finds in Camelot will break her heart, while her quest will change all of their lives forever.

Contents

About Shalott: Into the UnknownCHAPTER 1CHAPTER 2CHAPTER 3CHAPTER 4CHAPTER 5CHAPTER 6CHAPTER 7CHAPTER 8CHAPTER 9CHAPTER 10CHAPTER 11CHAPTER 12CHAPTER 13CHAPTER 14CHAPTER 15CHAPTER 16AcknowledgementsAbout Felicity PulmanCopyright

CHAPTER 1

‘We’ve been looking at Arthurian legend, and now I want you to try an imaginative recreation of one of the stories within that legend for your assignment,’ their teacher had said. ‘Choose someone from the legend to write about, either a noble or a poor peasant, or invent a character to interact with what happens at Camelot.’

Right from the start Callie had been captivated by the story of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, especially the love affair between Lancelot and Guinevere, the quest for the Holy Grail, and how Mordred’s ambition and jealousy had brought the kingdom to an end. For her assignment Callie had decided to answer the question that most intrigued her: could I change the fate of Camelot if I was actually there, interacting with the characters instead of just writing about them?

Callie sat in her father’s studio, staring at her reflection on the blank computer screen. Her outline, frail and insubstantial, was the only evidence she was there. Maybe she wasn’t really? Maybe she was a ghost? She felt like one sometimes, drifting about on the margins. Not like her twin sister El, who lived life to the max, grabbing everything on offer and making the most of it. Callie wished she had El’s self-confidence. Her lack of self-esteem paralysed her, and left her dependent on her twin and her father to organise her life for her.

Except for this assignment. This was an experiment, nothing to do with anyone else, because this version was for her eyes only.

Her first challenge, after finding the key to the studio in its usual hiding place, had been to crack the new password that protected her father’s computer, so that she could use it while he was away at a conference in the States. At one time Callie had been in and out of his studio almost every day — until the argument she’d had with him. He’d insisted that the historical re-enactment scenarios he devised for the Education Department in his spare time were designed to replay events in virtual reality exactly as they had happened in the past, and bring them to life for the students. ‘You can’t interfere with history,’ he’d told her, when Callie kept asking ‘What if …?’ to see what might happen if some element was changed in the various historical events he was recreating.

But interfering with a legend was different, Callie thought. This was the real challenge she’d set herself. If she was successful, she’d share her program with her dad afterwards, in the hope it might help to repair their relationship.

Callie gave herself a mental shake and straightened her shoulders. Camelot. If she didn’t start creating it now, not only would she be late handing in her assignment, she’d also run out of time before her father came home. With a silent prayer to the universe that she’d be able to recreate the scenes she’d already painted from her imagination, she turned to set the timer attached to her dad’s historical programs, ready to choose a date that would automatically change her own scenes of Camelot to how they would have looked at that time. But what date should she choose? The Arthur of literature was a medieval knight, but the legend was based around the deeds of a Romano-British warrior who’d stayed on to fight the Saxons after the Romans abandoned Britain. No, Callie thought. Not history. Legend.

A date came into her mind and she set the timer: 1133 CE. She had no idea who was on the throne in the real world at that time, or what was going on, but she seemed to recall Ms Hope mentioning that the first coherent stories of King Arthur had started to circulate around then. Wasting no more time, she accessed the file of images she’d saved in her dad’s program, looking for the medieval castle she’d imagined, surrounded by fields, a forest, and a river, all scenes she needed to recreate the virtual kingdom she longed to enter.

It felt like she was tuning into a realm that was already there, waiting for her to discover it. As if by magic, the scenes she’d already painted materialised on the screen. As she fed them into the Artificial Intelligence system and watched as they seemed to become real, she caught her breath. It was as if she was right there already, in Camelot.

A low, knowing caw caught her attention. A raven was perched on a branch outside the window, its head cocked to one side, watching her with a baleful stare. An involuntary shiver ran through Callie as she met its malevolent gaze. Forcing herself to look away, she focused instead on the characters she’d need for her scenario: King Arthur, his wife Guinevere, and her lover — Lancelot, the bravest knight in all the realm.

The vision of a beautiful woman came onto the screen. Guinevere. Although crowned and wearing a rich robe encrusted with jewels, she seemed somehow vulnerable. King Arthur came next. He turned out to be an ageing warrior with a crown on his head. A handsome knight followed him. Callie paused a moment and caught her breath. Lancelot. No wonder the queen fancied a dalliance with him rather than her husband!

Arthur’s bastard son Mordred then appeared on the screen, followed by Merlin, an elderly man wearing a cloak embroidered with magical emblems. A cliché, Callie thought, but moved on to the enigmatic Morgan le Fay: a beautiful woman who, even as Callie watched, morphed into an ugly old hag. Morgan, it seemed, was a shape-shifter! Intrigued, Callie studied her more closely. There was something familiar about her gaze. Callie cast an involuntary glance at the window; the raven was still watching her intently.

‘Shoo!’ She waved her hands at it, but it didn’t budge. With an impatient click of her tongue, Callie began to import other characters, including the Knights of the Round Table and their ladies — a potent mix of personalities whose intrigues had brought disgrace, despair and finally a bloody battle that had ended a kingdom.

But what role could she, Callie, play? How could she alter the story and so save Camelot? The key was the illicit love affair between Guinevere and Lancelot, the liaison that had divided the court and left the way open for Mordred to split the kingdom and seize power. She uploaded her image onto the screen and made a few quick alterations to her appearance. A long green silk gown in place of her school uniform, with a gold and emerald necklace around her throat, a ring to match, and a jewelled band for her hair. She stared at her new persona. No longer a ghost. But not Callie either. Who, then? She looked as real as all the others at court. But did she have the power to change anything, the power she lacked in real life? That was the question!

Perhaps I could use magic, Callie mused. The Old Ways of the Celts, or maybe the magic practised by Merlin and Morgan? After all, Arthur was conceived because of Merlin’s spell on his father, while Mordred’s aunt, Morgan le Fay, used black magic to wreak havoc on the court, and on Arthur in particular.

Magic. The lines of Callie’s favourite poem came into her mind. The poem about the Lady of Shalott, the ‘fairy’ who was trapped in a tower by a curse, and who spent her days weaving scenes from the world outside that she saw reflected in her mirror. But one day she saw Sir Lancelot riding by and ran to the window, and so she was cursed and had to die. The Lady of Shalott! Maybe she was the key to saving Camelot? Quickly, Callie created a stone tower upriver from the castle, and transferred her image to a room inside. Staying true to the poem, she placed a large square mirror on top of a chest of drawers to reflect what was happening outside.

Callie and the Lady of Shalott. Twin souls, closer in spirit than Callie and her own twin sister. ‘What shall we do?’ she whispered to her reflection. ‘How shall I save you, and how shall we save Camelot?’

With a flutter of excitement, she recalled what their teacher had told them about the Lady. ‘Alfred, Lord Tennyson based his poem on the story of Elaine Le Blanc, a young woman who fell in love with Lancelot, and who died of grief when he would neither marry her nor take her for his mistress.’

The fact that Callie’s surname was also Le Blanc had seemed like a coincidence at the time — but now it felt like a sign.

She drew in an excited breath as her imagination took flight. If she could make Lancelot fall in love with her new persona, then the lady wouldn’t want to die. Guinevere would stay faithful to King Arthur, and the court would unite behind Arthur to vanquish the ambitious and evil Mordred. Simple, really. Except …

Except it hadn’t happened then, so nothing would change now unless Callie was prepared to change the fate of the Lady of Shalott by making something different happen. But what, and how? She studied her image on the screen. With a shock of recognition, she realised what was wrong. Her lowered lids and shy expression distanced the lady from reality. This was the face of a dreamer, not a fighter. She would need courage to change her destiny, courage and the will to enchant Lancelot, to make him forget Guinevere and fall in love with her instead. Callie picked up the stylus. Could she change the lady’s character just by changing her own expression?

The door flew open behind Callie and crashed against the wall. El bounced into the room and skidded to a stop. ‘I might have known you’d be hiding in here!’ She leaned against the wall, fanning herself against the heat. ‘I thought you weren’t allowed in Dad’s studio while he’s away?’

‘I’m just playing with an idea, it’s nothing important.’ Mentally cursing herself for not making sure she’d closed the door properly, Callie leaned close to the screen, trying to shield it from her sister’s inquisitive gaze.

‘You’ll be in trouble if you stuff up whatever it is he’s working on.’

‘This is just something for our English assignment, it’s nothing to do with Dad’s historical re-enactments.’ But everything to do with my future, Callie added silently. ‘I’ll delete everything before Dad gets home from the States,’ she lied. ‘He’ll never know.’

‘That you’ve been in here?’ El regarded her with a sceptical expression. She poked her head around the door and shouted, ‘Meg! I’ve found her! We’re in Dad’s studio.’ She elbowed Callie aside to look at the screen. ‘Who’s that supposed to be?’

Callie knew El would keep on at her until she was given an answer. ‘The Lady of Shalott. I decided to recreate the poem.’ She hoped it was safe to admit that much.

‘That loser,’ El snorted. ‘She should’ve run off with Lancelot instead of lying down in a boat and dying as she drifted down to Camelot.’ She leaned closer to study the screen. ‘God, you’ve made her look just like you! Except …’ She looked from the scene to Callie. ‘There’s something different about her,’ she said with a puzzled frown.

‘Who looks like who?’ Meg, their friend and neighbour, stood at the doorway.

‘Quick! Don’t let Honey in!’ El rushed forward at the sound of an excited yelp. But she was too late. Their golden labrador catapulted through the open door and launched herself at Callie in a frenzy of excited licks and wriggles.

‘Poor Honey.’ Callie jumped up and grabbed the squirming dog. She walked across the room and pushed Honey outside, closing the door with a determined bang. She leaned against it and folded her arms. ‘I hate shutting her out,’ she said, as a frantic scratching started outside, accompanied by a mournful howl. ‘But it would be a dead giveaway if Dad found dog hairs in here.’

Meg glanced curiously at the workstation, the huge screen and keyboard controls, and the complicated instrument panel and apparatus housed below. ‘Aren’t you meant to come in here while your Dad’s away?’ she asked.

‘No, I’m not. But I thought I’d try to use his historical data to create my own program for our English assignment.’ Callie moved swiftly, backing up against the screen once more to hide it from view. She wished they’d go away. She’d been enjoying herself until their intrusion.

‘Dad barred her because he doesn’t want Callie interfering with historical events,’ El said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘El’s exaggerating.’ Callie cast a resentful glance at her twin. ‘Dad designs educational programs so students can witness historical events and evaluate them.’ As she noticed Meg’s look of bewilderment, she added, ‘You know, you could be there to watch what happened during the early settlement of Australia, or the time King John signed the Magna Carta in front of the barons in England, or the so-called Boston Tea Party that led to America’s break with Britain — or any other nation-changing events in history.’

‘Only Dad got cranky cos Callie kept on wanting to change things around, to see what would happen next.’ El giggled.

Callie felt her throat constrict. She swallowed down tears. Her questions had been innocent enough: what if the French had colonised Australia instead of the British? What if King John had refused the barons’ demands? What if Britain had managed to negotiate with America, and they’d stayed part of the British Commonwealth? But her father’s impatience had erupted into anger. And pain. Callie had seen the expression in his eyes as he’d roared, ‘That’s enough, Charlotte! You’re as bad as your mother!’ For a moment, he’d looked as if he hated her. Even though he’d apologised later, and told her he missed her visits to his studio, Callie knew he didn’t welcome her interference and so she hadn’t gone back.

‘So what’s your dad doing in the States?’ Meg asked.

‘There’s an international conference on the latest experiments in artificial intelligence and virtual reality, and their potential for the future,’ El said. ‘Although he might have abandoned that to chase after this new thing he’s been working on,’ she added thoughtfully.

‘Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s meant to be kept secret,’ Callie warned.

She remembered their last conversation before she’d stopped discussing her father’s new projects with him. He’d been excited about some new concept he was working on. ‘If I could figure out how to bend or freeze time for just a nanosecond, I’m hoping it might be possible to actually enter another time and dimension rather than experiencing events through virtual reality,’ he’d said. She wondered how far he’d progressed with his experiments. A wave of sadness washed over her at the thought that once he would have discussed each new breakthrough with her. Now she wasn’t even sure what he’d be talking about at the international conference.

Meg laughed. ‘I won’t say a word, I swear.’ She crossed her heart. ‘What’s he working on?’

El shrugged. ‘Ask Callie. I don’t understand what he’s talking about half the time.’

‘Neither do I now,’ Callie said sadly. She became aware that both Meg and her sister were still looking at her expectantly. ‘He’s contracted to the Department of Defence Science and Technology. He creates simulations of famous battles as a way of teaching military history and also for training recruits in decision-making. But his main job is to set up and play through potential domestic and international crises and work out how to deal with them, like acts of terrorism, or an invasion, or cyber-attacks, or even another pandemic like the one we’ve just been through — but much more deadly.’

‘God, it’s horrible just to think about it!’ Meg shuddered. ‘I guess the potential for destruction is so much worse now than it was in the twentieth century,’ she added thoughtfully.

‘But he’s doing that at work, not here,’ Callie said. Her fingers caressed the keyboard. She itched to be left in peace.

‘So what are you doing in here then?’ Meg asked.

‘I’m using Dad’s historical data and his new multi-tasking processor to help me create the world of Camelot for our English assignment.’

‘Do you know how to do that?’

Callie shrugged. ‘I’m doing game development and software coding at school, so I thought I’d give it a try. I’ve set up the scenes I want but that’s as far as I’ve got.’

‘And once it’s done you’ll be losing yourself in dreams about medieval knights and ladies and forbidden romance.’ El laughed. ‘Just as well Dad’s not here.’ She turned to Meg. ‘He’s always nagging Callie to stop daydreaming and stay focused. He says she spends most of her time lost in space. And it’s true!’

‘No, it’s not. But it’s hard to argue with Dad. Even though El and I are twins, we’re quite different. He can’t seem to understand that.’

‘It’s more than that. It’s because you’re artistic, like our mother. He still hasn’t forgiven her for leaving us.’

Callie flinched. El hardly ever mentioned their mother, but Callie missed her dreadfully. As soon as she’d seen how Callie loved to draw pictures, she’d given Callie a large box of paints of her own, the box that Callie still used. She had shown her how to look at forms, colours and shadows, to understand perspective, and she’d encouraged her to experiment with different media. Callie wished she could talk to her father like she used to talk to her mother. Her mother would have understood her hopes, her dreams for the future. She had tried once, but her father had cut her short.

‘Combining art with technology, Callie? You sound like your mother when you talk like that. She couldn’t deal with reality either.’

Callie had stuttered into silence and gone off to her room. Seizing a block of paper, she had sketched her mother’s face, so well-remembered even though she’d been gone for nearly six years. As the face came to life under the charcoal, Callie had found herself crying and cursing. She wondered if the pain would ever go away as, with shaking fingers, she had ripped the sketch into tiny pieces.

‘Can’t you get your mum on side? Can’t she help you change your dad’s mind?’ Meg asked, giving Callie a sympathetic smile.

‘We don’t even know where she is.’ As usual, El answered for Callie.

‘One of these days I might go and look for her,’ Callie said defiantly.

‘Dad would never let you!’

‘I can see why you enjoy playing with this.’ Looking uncomfortable, Meg tapped the screen. ‘That girl looks even more like you than El does,’ she said.

‘That’s the Lady of Shalott,’ El said, with a snigger.

‘Is that the character you’ve chosen?’ Meg tilted her head, assessing the figure. ‘But it’s you, isn’t it, Callie? You’ve put yourself in the tower.’

‘Yes.’

‘And I can see why. I mean, I don’t say you’re going to die for love or anything stupid like that,’ Meg added quickly. ‘But you’re a bit otherworldly, just like her.’

El strolled over, her gaze moving from the screen to her sister. ‘Meg’s right. I never thought of it before, but you’re exactly like the Lady of Shalott.’

‘I am not!’

‘Yes, you are.’ El traced the outline of the figure on the screen. ‘When you’re not at school you spend all your spare time on your own, either drawing or painting, or working on your computer. You hardly ever hang out with us. Does she, Meg?’ She turned to her friend and Meg nodded in agreement. ‘Like now,’ El continued. ‘We were looking for you to see if you want to come down to the mall with us, to grab an icecream and check out the sales. But I bet you say no.’

Callie sighed. She wished El would back off, respect the differences between them and give her some space. ‘You’re right. I’ll say no,’ she agreed.

‘But I can see why you want to stay and work on this,’ Meg said again, clearly trying to defuse the tension between the twins. ‘It all looks so real, with the tower and Camelot in the distance and everything!’ She smiled at Callie. ‘I wish you could do my assignment. I don’t even know which part of the legend to choose. It’s all so boring.’

‘Boring? How can you say that!’ Callie exclaimed. ‘This is all about Utopian ideals of chivalry and democracy and perfect love, yet Camelot is destroyed through ambition, lust, jealousy, hatred — it’s like a soap opera you could watch any day on the telly. But the story of Elaine of Astolat is really sad because she’s in love with Lancelot, and it’s never going to work out for her.’

‘I thought this was the Lady of Shalott?’ El pointed at the screen, clearly confused.

‘It is. Tennyson based her on the story about Elaine of Astolat, and I’m using her as my character in my assignment — a woman who spends her life locked in a tower, weaving the scenes outside her window that are reflected in her mirror. But then she catches sight of Lancelot and falls in love — and she dies because she looks out at him and invokes some sort of curse. But I …’

No, Callie wouldn’t tell them about her plans for the lady. It would be an open invitation for El to interfere if she did.

CHAPTER 2

‘But?’ El cocked her head, waiting for an answer. Callie stayed silent.

‘But maybe we can do something about that?’ With a grin, El snatched up the stylus and sketched a lopsided square next to the figure in the tower.

‘What are you doing?’ Callie brushed her hand away and hurriedly deleted the drawing.

‘Giving her an iPhone. Download it properly and give her some music so she can have a party.’ El giggled. ‘She’ll also need some mates to keep her company.’

Callie’s hands clenched into fists. ‘She’s supposed to be alone,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Where does it say that?’ Meg picked up one of the books that lay in a pile on the workstation, and checked out the illustration beside the poem. ‘Actually, she looks absolutely miserable,’ she observed.

‘Put us in with you,’ El demanded. ‘I want to be there as well.’

It took all Callie’s willpower not to lash out at her sister. If this experiment worked, it would prove to her father that it was possible to combine her artistic ability with computer studies. She didn’t want to waste precious time fooling around now. But she knew El wouldn’t give up until she’d got her own way. Recognising defeat, she turned to her. ‘I’ll need a photo,’ she lied.

‘Just add it from the file.’ El pulled out her phone and took a quick photograph of her friend. ‘And here’s Meg,’ she said, pressing ‘share’.

Callie imported the two images, placing her sister and Meg beside the lady in the tower.

‘I want a red velvet dress, long, and embroidered with gold and pearls,’ El instructed. ‘And a gold girdle with a dangling purse like you’ve got. And I want rubies and pearls around my throat, and rings and things.’ She gave the green-robed figure a disparaging look. ‘You should give her a bit more jewellery too. Those lords and ladies used to dress up in the Middle Ages.’

‘You’d know, of course,’ Callie grumbled as she selected the gown El wanted.

El tossed her head. ‘We saw that old movie on telly the other day, remember?’

‘First Knight?’ Callie snorted with laughter. ‘That’s the Hollywood version. It’s nothing like the real story. At the end of the real story, Lancelot goes into exile, Guinevere goes to Amesbury Abbey, and Arthur and Mordred kill each other at the Battle of Camlann.’

‘Whatever.’ El wasn’t interested. ‘Look.’ She pointed at the illustration facing the poem. ‘She’s all dressed up, just like we should be.’ She reached for another book in the pile and inspected the cover. ‘Le Morte Darthur by Sir Thomas Malory.’ She pulled a face. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to read all these books as well?’

‘I’m interested in the Middle Ages, and this is a great story.’ Callie grabbed the book from El and hugged it to her chest.

El raised her eyebrows and sighed. ‘So, give me the sort of jewellery she’s wearing,’ she said, getting back to her main concern.

‘Have it your own way.’ Callie checked the illustration and began to select pieces of jewellery, each one grander and more elaborate than the one before. Perhaps when El and Meg had finished admiring themselves, they’d get sick of tormenting her and go away. ‘What about your hair?’ she asked.

‘Leave it loose, like yours. It looks nice.’ El touched her hair. It was dark and wavy, like Callie’s, but tied back in a pony tail. ‘And also give me a jewelled band around my forehead.’

Callie studied the image coming to life before her, noticing the small, subtle differences. She hadn’t intended them, but they were there in El’s broad swimmer’s shoulders and athletic body, and her bold, confident, twenty-first century gaze.

‘What about you, Meg?’ Callie looked at the image on the screen: Meg’s slight frame and quizzical expression. ‘I’ll have to give you long hair,’ she said, lengthening the cropped hairstyle, stroking the dark hair straight and long down Meg’s back. ‘And I’d better take that ring out of your nose, and erase our watches and things.’ She placed a gold circlet set with jewels around Meg’s forehead, and dressed her in a gown of peacock blue with a gold embroidered trim. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

‘I look fantastic!’ Meg pirouetted, then sank low in a curtsy.

El giggled as she glanced at Meg’s frayed jeans and bright T-shirt. ‘It’s a bit more upmarket than what you’re wearing now.’

Meg straightened hurriedly. ‘I don’t get a big allowance like you two. Anyway, clothes don’t matter. It’s what’s inside that counts,’ she snapped.

‘Take us on a tour through what you’ve done.’ Seeming oblivious of Meg’s resentment, El gestured towards a shelf behind Callie. ‘Do we need headsets and hand controls?’

‘No. I’ve only just started importing the scenes and creating some of the characters from the legend, so that’s all I can show you.’

El and Meg moved behind Callie as she picked up the control pad to animate their figures and set the scenes in motion on the screen.

‘So we’re going to Camelot now?’ Meg asked, as they moved down a flight of stone steps and out of the tower.

‘Yes. I used my imagination to design it all.’ Except it seemed to have sprung into life without any conscious effort on her part, Callie thought, with a sudden shiver of premonition.

‘At least we look the part.’ Meg glanced at their figures on the screen.

‘Yeah.’ El laughed. ‘We look really medieval. I wonder what sort of underwear they wore in those days?’ She reached out to check, but Callie’s slap stopped her.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ she hissed.

‘So where’s Camelot then?’ Meg asked as the path took a bend through meadows starred with yellow and white daisies. They were approaching the bank of a river now. Glints of sunlight on water marked its passage through a girdle of green trees.

‘Over there!’ Callie pointed towards the stone walls marking the site of a fortified castle. In the distance, fields of ripening crops stood golden under a blazing sky.

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro’ the field the road runs by

To many-towered Camelot …

Callie recited the words under her breath as the scene unfurled in front of them. ‘I’ve designed it as Tennyson’s poem described it. The tower is behind us now, and Camelot’s downriver. No one knows where it really was, or even if it existed, although historians through the ages have tried to locate Arthur’s stronghold along with the sites of the various battles he fought. But it’s a legend anyway, so it doesn’t matter.’

The road ran on down, skirting the green forest to run parallel with the dark, shining river that looped once more and came out into the open. The river was framed by the hanging fronds of weeping willows and formed a natural boundary for one side of the walled settlement. Meg and El watched, fascinated, as they walked towards a heavy wooden door set into the high stone walls.

‘Take us into Camelot,’ said El.

Callie tapped a key and then, when nothing happened, she tried another. To her relief, the door swung open to let them through. They walked on past thatched huts of wattle and daub, the dwellings becoming larger and more prosperous-looking as they approached the heart of a small settlement. Dominating the skyline were the towering stone walls of a castle set high on a grassy hill, protected by a drawbridge straddling a deep moat. Flags flew from the turrets, but the stronghold seemed deserted.

‘Arthur’s court,’ Meg announced with satisfaction as they crossed the drawbridge. ‘Have you got him interacting with Guinevere? And Lancelot?’

‘Not yet. I’ve created them, but I haven’t put them in place. This is all I’ve done so far.’ Callie’s sensitive touch drew up the portcullis and opened huge doors of carved oak that led them through an antechamber to a corridor bordering a courtyard. Scarlet roses twined over a wicker trellis, and flower-filled gardens cast brilliant splashes of colour against the grey stone flagging.

‘Through here.’ Callie guided them to a short, wide flight of stone stairs that took them up to the Great Hall. Bright embroidered tapestries depicting hunting scenes decorated the walls. These were interspersed with stone pillars bearing sconces which at night would hold flaming torches to illuminate the room and its colourful hangings. By day the torches were unlit and the room looked dark and gloomy.

‘I haven’t had time to put in too much detail,’ Callie explained. ‘And I really need to get on now with writing the program for it,’ she added, hoping they’d take the hint and leave her alone.

‘Dad doesn’t come home until next weekend. Will you take us on a proper virtual tour of the whole thing when you’ve got it done? I want to meet Guinevere and Arthur. And Lancelot, of course.’

‘If you like.’ Callie saved and closed the program with a couple of taps. She waggled her fingers in a farewell wave.

‘But we’ll just fix up the lady in the tower before we go.’ El had read her sister’s mind. ‘And you’re not to delete us after we leave, Callie. I don’t want her to be left on her own.’ She swung around to face her sister. ‘I know! Let’s put some guys in the tower with the three of us. If she could have partied on in her room, I reckon she’d never have fallen for silly old Lancelot, and she wouldn’t have died.’

‘What?’ Callie was startled that El’s thoughts seemed to be running parallel to her own. Almost. But she was trying to recreate the poem with her own subtle variations, not fall in with El’s crazy schemes. She certainly wasn’t going to allow her to mess everything up.

‘Get back into the program, Callie. We’re going to change the legend,’ El said firmly.

Callie felt a moment’s panic. ‘No!’ She crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘I’ll do it later, I promise.’

‘Now!’ El commanded. ‘Take us back to the tower.’ And then, as Callie still made no move, she reached out to the keyboard. ‘Come on!’

‘No!’ Callie tried to knock El’s hand away but her sister wouldn’t budge. For a moment they stood glaring at each other, until Callie acknowledged defeat and reluctantly brought the tower scene back to life.

‘Okay, now put some guys in,’ El said, as their figures appeared once more. ‘You can start with —’

‘Lancelot!’ cried Meg. ‘Put Lancelot in the room with the lady, then she won’t have to look out the window at him.’

‘Good idea,’ El agreed. ‘Go on, Callie. Put him in. You said you’d already keyed in the characters and I want to see him.’ She picked up the book of Tennyson’s poetry from Callie’s pile. ‘I bet there’s a picture of him somewhere.’ She found the poem and began to read.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;

On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow’d

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

She pulled a face. ‘Ugh. Poetry.’ She dropped the book back on the pile. ‘You’d better put him on horseback, Callie.’

‘You can’t have a horse in the tower,’ Meg objected.

Callie’s fingers moved over the keys, bringing the image of Lancelot back onto the screen: the perfect knight who was part of her plan. She knew every feature on his face. She was half in love with him already.

‘Ooh-er! Not bad!’ Meg nudged El. ‘I wouldn’t mind going out with him myself.’

‘I’m betting he’d bore you to death.’ El checked out the tall, handsome figure with his pious expression.

‘He’s not boring!’ Callie flashed to the defence of her imaginary hero. ‘He’s the most tragic figure of them all. He was the one caught in the middle — between his love for Guinevere, who was both the queen and Arthur’s wife, and his loyalty and duty to the king. Even though he was the best and bravest knight in Camelot, because he loved Guinevere he was judged unworthy to find the Holy Grail. In the end, his guilt drove him mad.’