“Indulf claims to be the victor who defeated the Morholt.” Tristan shot Lancelot an incredulous look. “He offers the split headpiece as proof. He brags that it washis swordthat clove the Black Knight’s skull in two.”
Tristan leapt to his feet and slammed his hands down on the table. Fury pounded in his temples. “Thebloody bastard!Islew the Morholt!! And he claims MY victory!”
Lancelot stood and turned to face him, his expression grave. “There’s more. And it gets worse.” The White Knight began pacing the length of the wall near the window. Tristan followed him with furious eyes.
“Indulf claims that you fled the battlefield, cowered by the Morholt. He denounces you as a traitor for abandoning your country. In a stolen ship. While the rest of the army faced the onslaught of the Viking assault.” Lancelot lowered his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees. He placed his head in his hands and said quietly, “They claim that I pursued you, tried to reason with you, and when that failed, I returned the ship—without you—to Tintagel.”
As if to minimize the blow of his words, Lancelot softened his voice. “Indulf, in alliance with the dwarf Frocin—and backed by Vaughan and Connor, who claim to be witnesses—have convinced your uncle Marke to banish you from Cornwall as a traitor, a thief, and a coward—thereby stripping you of your status as heir to his throne.”
Tristan staggered, the words a painful physical blow.
“King Marke has agreed to the banishment. He’s rescinded you as his heir… and has proclaimed Indulf the new champion of Cornwall.”
Tristan stormed back and forth along the wall, his head pounding, his stomach roiling with rage. He couldn’t breathe. This was impossible. His uncle would never banish him. Or replace him with Indulf!
Lancelot said gently, his eyes wary, “There is more, Tristan. You should sit down to hear the rest. It gets worse.”
Tristan shot Lancelot a glance of utter disbelief. “Worse? What couldpossiblybe worse?”
Lancelot stared at his feet, his voice barely audible. “The dwarf Frocin—and his close friend Indulf—have suggested to King Marke that an alliance with Ireland is in the best interest of Cornwall. They have suggested aroyal wedding. Between King Marke of Cornwall, and…” his eyes rose to meet Issylte’s.
“Queen Morag of Ireland.”
Issylte shot to her feet, her hands clasped over her mouth. “The queen whopoisoned myfather?” She turned to Tristan, her eyes ablaze. “This dwarf Frocin. I have seen him. In myvisions.”
She walked to the window and stared at the spray of the fountain in the courtyard, as if its healing waters could calm her ragged nerves. She faced the two knights whose eyes locked with her own. “Just before my father died, I had asighting. My stepmother and a dark wizard with the yellow eyes of a snake were standing beside my bedridden father.” She shuddered as the icy numbness of wolfsbane shivered up her limbs.
Issylte turned to Tristan, seated at the table, and Lancelot, sitting on the edge of the bed. “In the vision, I saw them poison my father.” Her voice hoarse with grief, she spat, “And two weeks later, we received word that the king of Ireland was dead.”
Shaking, pacing, she recounted her most recentsighting.“A few days ago, when I was with one of my former patients, I had another vision.” She wiped her hands on her dress to calm their trembling. “Of a hideous dwarf with piercing black eyes.” The memory sent a wave of nausea rolling through her.
“He was with the dark wizard and the queen, hovering over a bed-ridden king. Just like when I saw them beside my father’s bed in the earlier vision. But this king I did not recognize.”
Issylte wrung her hands, her heart racing. “The wizard gave the queen a vial. She added drops to a chalice. and made the king drink, just as she had done to my father.” Issylte locked eyes with Tristan, seated before her. “This king I did not recognize… Could it beyour uncle, Tristan? Could the wicked queen who murdered my father now be poisoningKing Marke of Cornwall?”
Lancelot and Tristan exchanged quick glances, then looked back at Issylte, who sat down at the table and whispered, “I saw the same dwarf in asecond vision.” The atmosphere in Tristan’s room shifted, as if Frocin’s dark presence hovered, lurking in the shadows.
“He held a prisoner—a pregnant woman—high in a tower, hidden in a dark forest. She was desperate to escape, peering out a window above the trees, as if she wanted to jump.” Issylte rubbed her arms, warding off an evil frost. “The dwarf entered the woman’s room. She recoiled in terror. He stared directly at me.He could see me watching him.His black eyes were empty, cold…evil.” Issylte buried her face in her hands, shivering uncontrollably.
She looked up, her eyes widened with fright. “I told Gwennol—the woman I was with—about the vision. She said it must be Frocin, for he has a fortress with a tower. And it’s hidden, deep in the Forest of Morois. On the outskirts of Cornwall, where she is from.” Issylte turned to Tristan. “This must be the same dwarf that is allied with Indulf, the knight who denounced you. And claimed your victory.”
Nodding, his face livid, Tristan turned to Lancelot.
“There is more,” the White Knight said gravely, standing to face Tristan and Issylte, who exchanged quick, uneasy glances. “A royal wedding between Cornwall and Ireland will take placein the castle of Tintagel after a year,” he announced with a smirk, “allowing a sufficientperiod of mourningfor the widowed queen. And, as King Marke’s new champion, Indulf has received a title of nobility, becoming the new Earl of Dubh Linn. With the dwarf Frocin as his loyal ally.”
Lancelot spat, “They plan to resume the slave expeditions that had been so prosperous to the Irish crown before the death of the Morholt.”
Issylte shuddered with horror.
The White Knight turned to Tristan. “But now, with the queen betrothed to King Marke of Cornwall, the attacks will focus on the coast of France. They’ll assault Bretagne, Armorique, Normandy. Even Anjou and Aquitaine.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched with rage.
Lancelot sat down to face him, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “A second wedding will also take place at the castle of Tintagel, with the blessing of King Marke.”
At this, Tristan raised an eyebrow.
Lancelot’s voice was barely audible. “Indulf, the new Earl of Dubh Linn, will marry Elowenn, Vaughan’s younger sister.” Lancelot sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Her family is delighted to be elevated to a position of royalty. Which they’d hoped to achieve by marrying Elowenn toyou.”His lip raised in scorn, the White Knight smirked, “Needless to say, everyone isthrilledwith Indulf’s new title of nobility and the appointed lands. They look forward to both weddings with great anticipation and celebration.”
