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61

Excalibur’s

Master

10

‘Well, my name’s Guinevere, but everyone calls me Gwen.’

‘That’s a pretty name.’

Gwen didn’t blush. She was too hardened to care whether a boy

thought her name was nice.

Wart helped Gwen load the wagon again, and since Wart’s party

had left him behind, Gwen felt obligated to give Wart a lift to the

tournament.

As they reached the gates of the town where the tournament was

being held, Mordie’s legs started to shake. The weight of two people

and a pile of wood seemed to be too much for him to bear after his fall.

‘Come on boy, just a little further, we’re almost there,’ Gwen said

soothingly.

‘What’s his name?’ Wart asked.

‘Mordie, short for Mordred.’

Wart gave her a smile.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. I’ve just always liked that name.’

They continued on in silence until they reached the town square,

where a huge crowd had gathered around the front of a little chapel.

They lodgedMordie in a stall and delivered the wood to the irritated

herald in charge.

‘You’re lucky I don’t box your ears!’ he said gruffly.

The two of them returned to the square, but before they could

push their way through the crowd, there was a sharp, ‘Wart!’

Gwen’s head snapped around and Wart flinched as a man in

armour, little older than a boy, strode towards them, metal jostling.

‘Where have you been? I need a sword for the tournament! Mine’s

missing! Honestly, Wart, can’t you do anything...’

Gwen, who was not at all interested in this conversation, and also

thought that Wart didn’t appreciate his knight berating him in front

of her, decided to go ahead and force her way to the front of the

crowd. Being of quite a small frame, this was easy.

An odd sight greeted her. A large, beefy man in armour was

straining with all his might on something that was stuck fast through

a great stone placed below an anvil. The man, panting and bent

almost double, drew away, so that Gwen could see that it was a sword.

Just then, an odd feeling filled her from top to toe. Regarding the

weapon, even from a distance, with its intricate golden handle and

gleaming silver blade, gave her an unusual sense of hope. As her eyes