Gill bobbed and spun under the water like a pinecone dropped in the breakwater.
“Keep your head above water,” shouted Olivier from the riverbank. “Focus on the bank and walk forward.” But the pebbles that carpeted the river bottom were slippery with algae and had been worn by years of mountain water on its epic annual journey to the sea. Gill struggled to try and find a steady footing just to give him a chance to get this breath back in order that he could continue to the far side of the river. Olivier had been training him now for two months, during this period Gill had often found himself in similar situations. Today’s challenge was to walk from one side of the river to the other. A simple task usually for Gill; he was agile, fit, and even at the deepest of crossing he felt confident. Today however Gill had to try to make the crossing in the most ferocious areas of white-water, hampered by his hands being tied behind his back. “Stay focused,” shouted Olivier again. “Forget about the water, use it to your advantage. Don’t fight nature, work with it.” Gill lifted his head out of the water, his wet hair falling across his eyes, as he finally found a position on the river bed where he could stand and get his bearings again. He straightened his back and looked at Olivier on the far side. That was his goal. He listened to what Olivier said, ‘stay focused’, ‘don’t fight’, and walked. He walked through the white-water one step at a time. He would get knocked over and his body would fill with ice-cold mountain water but it would not deter him. He stood up again and kept walking, until he reached the bank and fell into the arms of his master. “Well done Gill, well done. Your focus is becoming strong and your balance is now excellent.”
Olivier had tried to teach Gill the skills that he had been so desperate to learn. He taught him how to hold a sword properly, the importance of foot positions, the optimum ways to attack or defend. He taught him skills with the bow, the axe, a ball and chain or mace. He taught him self-discipline, developed his reflexes, instincts, balance. Gill was beginning to show great talent, and the master and apprentice were becoming closer every day.
Gill had told his mother that Olivier was training him. Initially she didn’t agree with it, but it had given Gill something to focus on, and when he returned home every night, although he was tired, his mother could see the light slowly coming back into his eyes: his sparkle as she called it. Arlette was worried that it might have been lost forever when he returned home with the cross, and her relief of seeing him happy again far outweighed her worry of the time he spent with Olivier.
Gill knew his mother was anxious with the way his and Olivier’s friendship was developing and he would attempt to relieve his mother’s anxiety when he returned home each evening; telling her stories his training and the things Olivier and him had been talking about. She listened with an attentive ear but never mentioned the idea that she did not approve with him following in his father’s footsteps. Gill understood that the thought of Olivier returning into her life without Etienne was too painful, and respected her silence on the subject.

A further month into his training Gill turned up at Olivier’s house in the late afternoon: but strangely on this occasion he found it empty. Gill searched all the areas that Olivier had shown him. He checked by the lake where Olivier had taken him to learn stealth and patience. It made him smile to recall the day they had spent with their trousers rolled up wading through the shallows trying to catch fish by hand. Gill also walked along the seas edge. It was here that Olivier made him stand in the breakwater and fight Olivier with sticks. He had told Gill the importance of balance and strength, ‘It is not the biggest man who wins a fight Gill,’ Olivier had said to him, ‘but the one who stands up for the longest’. Gill returned to Olivier’s house worried for his friend. He sat with his back against Olivier’s front door and decided to wait for nightfall in the hope his friend would return.
He didn’t have to wait long. Olivier came into the clearing that surrounded his house barely a moment after he had sat, and noticed instantly where his mentor had been. Olivier led into the clearing a beautiful black stallion. Olivier smiled when he saw his student waiting for him, as if he were returning to a hungry family after a days hunting.
“What do you think of him?” said Olivier. “Isn’t he magnificent?”
Gill jumped up and ran over to Olivier. “He truly is a beautiful creature Olivier,” replied Gill, “but where did you get him?” Gill walked around the horse in awe, stroking the horse’s immaculate coat. He had never been able to go near a horse before. The only ones in the city were the king’s, and unless you were a Knight or a Page you would never be allowed to get this close.
“Let’s just say that he found me, and ask no more questions,” Olivier said with wink. “Anyway that is not important Gill. The reason I have brought him to you is that I have been training you now for three months. I have never before seen someone as instinctively gifted with a sword or bow. Gill your father’s blood flows through your veins like a torrent, and I have been blessed to be part of your teachings. He would be extremely proud of the man you have become. You are talented with weaponry, chivalrous with your kin, but to become a great knight your final lesson is to become master of your horse. Gill this is my gift to you.”
Gill stood back in amazement both at the magnificence of the horse, and the generosity of his friend. “But I cannot accept this Olivier, and beside I have never ridden a horse before.”
“Nonsense Gill.” Olivier’s nonchalance to any situation was one of his most endearing qualities. He always made Gill feel like there were no boundaries, only those that you built in your mind. To Olivier anything was possible. His positivism was infectious. “I will teach you to ride this horse and then you will be ready.”
“Ready for what?” asked Gill.
“To fulfill your destiny Gill. The same destiny bestowed on your father. The destiny he was unable to fulfill before he was killed.” Olivier continued. “Your destiny Gill is to lead your people to freedom.”
Gill knew what this meant. He had thought about it since the time Olivier had told him of his lineage. He knew this was the reason his mother protected him from the truth for so long. Gill had heard rumours about the king’s ill health. Whispers were beginning to spread around the market regarding the imminent attack from Chaval. People were getting scared. They wanted to know the king’s next move. The people needed to know how the city was to protect itself without a king or heir. Gill knew what he had to do.
His responsibility was so large it was incomprehensible to Gill: like the distance from the sun or the size of the night sky. The only thing that he could think of was that one day he would be able to face Chaval. He wanted to look in the eyes of the man that had taken his father’s life and his mother’s true love. Gill was ready. Ready to confront his demons and free his people. He looked at his horse: and with his father’s desire in his eyes looked back at Olivier. “Teach me how to ride then master.”

The heat of the summer sun dwindled: replaced with cold clear nights and darker mornings. Autumn leaves turned the landscape. Filled the trees with oranges and reds as if setting them ablaze. The river’s swell reduced as the mountains reclaimed their snowcaps.
“Back straight,” called Olivier as he watched his student ride around the clearing. “Let him know you are his master. Feel his force and harness it.”
Gill possessed the same natural ability with a horse that he had with a sword, and it hadn’t taken Olivier long to hone his riding skills. It was a crisp evening. The night sky illuminated the forest with its astral tapestry.
“That is enough for today Gill. It is dark, the horse needs to rest.”
“Just one more jump,” pleaded Gill, but he didn’t wait for Olivier’s agreement. He tucked his knees and kicked his horse. “Come on my beauty just one more jump,” whispered Gill. “Yah,” and with Gill’s call his horse instantly reacted and galloped to a fallen tree. Gill leant forward and holding his breath his horse jumped the tree and landed safely on the other side. “Well done boy,” said Gill patting his horse on the neck.
He rode up beside Olivier and stopped. Olivier’s approving smile all the recognition he needed. Gill dismounted and walked over to Olivier. He had been sitting on a fallen tree trunk watching his pupil as he effortlessly rode among the trees, dodging the obstacles of thick branches and rope that Olivier had placed. “Olivier, I am ready”.
“I know,” he replied.
“What now?” asked Gill with a playful shrug of his shoulders.
“Only you know that Gill. I have taught you all I can. You now have to make your own decisions as a man. As a knight. Remember what I have taught you; trust your instincts and believe what your heart tells you.”
Gill paused, contemplating his next move, “I need to go and see my mother.”
“Then you must go my friend,” replied Olivier.
“Will you come with me?”
Olivier looked at his feet, retracing on the floor a figure of eight that he had unconsciously been drawing with a stick. He looked up at Gill and stood. “Of course I will come Gill." He picked up his valise and put it across his shoulder. "If that is your wish.”
Gill led the way back to Avalon, with an outer conviction not mirrored with his inner turmoil. The time had come, he had made his decision, and he could wait no longer. The men walked together back to the city in silence. The silence gave Gill the opportunity to work through in his head what was about to happen, what he was going to say. He was aware of the vastness of what he was about to do. He was about to take the next steps to fulfilling his destiny, and he could tell from Olivier’s silence that the enormity of returning to a place that he hadn’t been for nearly eighteen years hadn’t escaped him either. Gill was worried for his mother’s feelings. She knew that one day she would have to see Olivier, but due to the pain it may cause her Gill had never discussed it. He knew that his mother had spent eighteen years trying to rebuild a life without Gill’s father, and that seeing Olivier again would surely bring back painful memories.
They reached the castle walls and Olivier paused. “It will be alright my friend,” said Gill placing his hand on Olivier’s shoulder. “I will show you the way.”
“I know it will Gill,” replied Olivier. “I have been waiting for this moment for a very long time. I have dreamt of the day I would return, but now my strength evades me."
“Just follow me my friend.” Gill bent down and squeezed through the hole in the wall that was starting to show wear from the numerous times Gill had passed through. He paused the other side half expecting his friend to not appear, but he did not have to wait long. Olivier sighed and puffed as he pulled his large frame through the gap in the rampart. Gill smiled when he saw his friend stand up and brush himself.
“A knight should not have to enter a city this way," sighed Olivier indignantly.
"Come on, lets go,” replied Gill turning and heading in the direction of his home. They made their way into the city following the shadows cast from the houses.
“I am glad that night is upon us Gill,” said Olivier, short of breath, trying to keep up with Gill as he sped with stealth from one shadow to the next.
“Why is that?” replied Gill without breaking stride.
“Well you are the only person I have seen in a long time my friend,” said Olivier. “I don’t think I’m ready for a welcoming party just yet.” Gill turned around and smiled at his friend, and Olivier winked in reply. The streets were almost empty. The market had long since packed up for the day, and most people were already taking their places at home in front of their fires. Their solitude gave Gill comfort, he was still unsure as to how the town would react to Olivier’s return, and wanted his mother to be the first person in Avalon to witness it. Olivier put his hood up so as to not draw attention from the few remaining townsfolk in the streets.
“I think there is little chance of anyone still recognising you,” said Gill as he noticed his friend’s attempts at concealment.
“Better to be safe. I did used to draw an eye in my time." replied Olivier stroking his beard and flattening his tunic. "It his strange," continued Olivier. "This city has long been committed to memory Gill. The noises smells, and sites are ones that I thought I would never experience again.” Olivier stopped in the street and spun around looking from house to house. Gill turned and watched in silence allowing his friend to savour the moment.
“Has it changed?” Gill asked.
“There are more houses, and the streets seem a lot quieter: but I still feel the same sense of welcoming,” replied Olivier. “There is a warmth to this city Gill. I cannot explain it. In fact it does not need definition: but I feel at home again.” Gill put his arm around Olivier and pointed in the direction of his house.
“This is my home Olivier. Will you let me and introduce you to my family?”
“As you wish my friend,” replied Olivier. They approached the house and Gill opened the door his hands trembling. Gill turned to look at Olivier, he had frozen in the street behind him.
“Are you alright Olivier?” said Gill. Olivier paused as if witnessing the epiphany.
“I recognised the house instantly,” replied Olivier. “I remember leaving the city. Your father slowed his horse down here,” Olivier pointing up the road from the house. “Your mother then came out of that door and your father lifted her onto his horse right here, right at this very spot Gill.” Olivier lifted his hand to his face and bowed his head. “I feel as if he is here now Gill.” Gill walked back from the door and placed Olivier’s head on his shoulder.
“I would like to think that he is Olivier,” replied Gill. “I like to think that he is always with me. Come on let’s go in, it will be fine.”
Arlette turned with a start as she heard the door opening.
“Gill is that you,” called Arlette from the back yard.
“Yes mother,” replied Gill. Arlette walked through the backdoor; hair tied up and a basket of freshly dug vegetables under her arm, wiping the mud off her hands on her apron.
“The onions are really doing well this year Gill,” she said as she placed her basket on the table. “I made a stew for dinner,” Arlette continued still without looking in the direction of door. “Wash your hands and set the table, it won’t be long.”
“Mother, stop,” said Gill trying to bring his mother’s attention to the guest he had brought home. Arlette stopped chopping and turned to face her son. “Mother, this is Olivier.”
“Hello Arlette,” Olivier broke the silence formed by Arlette’s stunned reaction. Arlette just stared at him motionless. A ghost she had carried in her dreams for eighteen years had just walked through her door. “Please forgive me for startling you,” continued Olivier. Arlette turned away from them and began chopping again. She picked up the chopped onions and walked over to the pot hanging over the fire and dropped them in. A splash of hot water jumped from the pot and landed on Arlette’s hand.
“Dam,” The burning water started to scold her hand and she rushed back to the chopping board and put her hand in the bowl of cold water she was using to wash the vegetables. “I am so clumsy,” cursed Arlette.
“Mother are you alright,” Gill asked as he walked toward his mother. “Please stop what you are doing.”
“I am sorry if I have startled you Arlette,” repeated Olivier.
“You did not startle me Olivier. I knew this time would come,” Arlette replied as she took her hand from the water, and wrapped it in a wet cloth. “You had better sit. Dinner is almost ready.” The men did as they were told and sat at the table looking to one another for a guide as to what to do. “Stew?”
“Mother please join us,” Gill said ushering his mother to sit at the table, but she carried on preparing dinner impassive to Gill’s request.
“Arlette please sit down we need to talk.”
“Do not tell me what to do Olivier.” Gill realised that Olivier was trying to subdue the situation but his request only seemed to antagonise his mother. Her reply was barely a whisper. “I have waited for eighteen years, eighteen years for you to return with my love, and now you turn up at my door without him and tell me to sit down.” The volume of her voice increased throughout her statement until the point she was almost shouting. “How dare you?” Gill and Olivier were thrown back in their chairs as she turned to confront them.
“Please don’t be angry mother, I asked Olivier to come. You know he has helped me greatly. I now understand who I am, I know the truth.”
“The truth, what do you know of the truth Olivier,” said Arlette. “You have lived a lie for eighteen years Olivier. You have lived the life of a dead man, and now you return telling my son of the truth.”
“He had a right to know Arlette,” said Olivier.
“What right? Do not talk to me of rights.” Arlette shouted back.
“He is old enough to know the truth Arlette. Mature enough to know who he really is.” Arlette stared at Olivier, fire burning in her eyes, and turned back to the pot. She picked up the spoon and began carefully stirring.
“Mother I am sorry that it has happened this way. I never meant to hurt you,” said Gill.
“It is not your fault Gill,” the volume of her voice now decreasing.
“I will always love you mother, and I understand why you have protected me from the truth about my father, however I am a man now. I need to fulfill my destiny. I need to see my Grandfather, the king. I need to let him know who I am. I need to tell him what my father never had time to.” Arlette looked at Gill and smiled; her maternal warmth clearly visible now to her son. She then turned to Olivier.
“Olivier,” her face lost its emotion: but her eyes were full of steel and purpose. “I want to say thank you. You have helped my son over the past months to come to terms with who he is. I did not agree with the training that you have given him. I never wanted him to fight, to be a knight. I lost Etienne due to war and you must be able to understand that I do not want to lose my only son too.”
“I do understand Arlette, and I am sorry that it was not you who told him about his father,” replied Olivier.
“The only man that I ever loved, that I ever trusted, trusted you.” Arlette took hold of Gill’s hand. “I therefore trust you to help Gill, but god help you if you let him down.” Arlette then stood up from the table and walked back to the pot of stew and continued to stir. Gill looked at Olivier and rose from his chair, he didn’t want to say goodbye to his mother, he didn’t need to explain where he was going. In silence he made his way out of the house, closely followed by Olivier.
Together they started in the direction of the castle. Gill looked up at the stars hoping to get inspiration or a sign. The constellations gave nothing but a vivid perception of how unfathomably far away the answers were. The castle gates appeared without them breaking their silence. The night was cold, but nervous anticipation kept them warm. Standing at the gates Gill looked at Olivier for the final time before their lives changed forever. He lifted his hand to the small door beside the giant gate that marked the entrance to the castle walls and went to knock on it. Olivier stopped him.
“Gill, I have not come here for a fight, but I will not run from one.”
“Hopefully it will not come to that my friend,” replied Gill raising his hand to the door and wrapping on it three times. Silence. Seconds then minutes slowed. Still no reply. A small window in the door creaked open and a face became visible.
“What do you want?” enquired the guard in a malevolent tone from behind the door.
“We are here to see the king,” said Gill aware that the tremor in his voice was clearly audible to the guard. The guard slammed the window shut. Another eternity of silence passed. The window then creaked open again.
“And why should the king want to see you?” asked the same guard.
"I've already had enough of this," said Olivier to Gill. "Does he not realise what it has taken for us to come here." Without Gill having time to react, Olivier thrust his hand through the small window in the door and grabbed the guard by the back of the head and smashed it against the inside of the door.
“What did you do that for?” shouted Gill as Olivier pulled his hand from within the window allowing the guard to slump to the floor.
“Sorry Gill but he was starting to irritate me,” replied Olivier, but before he had a chance to fully justify his actions the castle gate swung open and five guards brandishing swords came running out.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Gill shouted dropping his sword to the floor to show he had no intent of fighting, “I have come to see the king, my grandfather.” The guards froze.
“But the king does not have any family,” replied a guard.
“Please go to the king and tell him I am here. Please tell him I am his grandson, and I have his son’s closest friend Olivier the son of the king of Citeren with me. Tell him we wish to speak with him.” The guards looked at one another unsure what to do.
“Wait here,” barked one of the guards at the two men. “Remove your weapons.” Olivier dropped his sword and they both lifted their arms to prove that they were unarmed. There were four guards, thickly set, with a belligerent demeanour. The fifth guard, who had been thrown against the inside of the door, slowly picked himself up from the floor wiping blood from his nose, and walked over to Olivier.
“Stand down,” said the apparently most senior guard halting the other guards desire for retribution.
The guards searched the men, and when they were satisfied they were unarmed one of them left and ran into the castle, the other four remained, not taking their eyes from Gill or Olivier, willing either of them to make a move and give them an opportunity to vent their anger.
The guard that had run into the castle returned shortly after, sweating and gasping for breath.
“Follow me,” he panted. The other guards looked at him perplexed, but the message barer shrugged his shoulders and indicated to Olivier and Gill in the direction of the castle. The guard led the way. Through the large outer gate of the castle walls and into a courtyard. It was a large square, flanked at either side by the outer walls from which they had come,  and in front of them stood the castle. Gill had never been this close to the building before. The only glimpses he had ever had were as an inquisitive boy when he patiently waited outside the gates for the infrequent times they were opened to let a royal or dignitary pass through. A stolen moment of longing for how it must be to live a life of privilege. It was a beautiful building, opulent and grand. A residence fit for its inhabitants. Large stone steps leading to an arch the height of three men marked the entrance. They were led into the castle. Gill’s heart was beginning to double in speed. With every step he took it felt that he was stepping closer to the realisation of who he truly was. The four guards didn’t leave Olivier or Gill’s side. Once in the castle, still in silence, echoes of their footsteps rhythmically pounding off the walls like a marching army, they were led up a large stone spiral staircase. The staircase opened out to a long corridor only lit by the dim flickering of a few candles sporadically fixed along the walls. They walked along the corridor until reaching a thick wooden door at the very end the guards stopped. The largest one paused, as if to gain his composure, and then knocked.
“Enter,” came a voice from inside. The guard cautiously opened the door and signaled for the men to enter. Gill noticed the room was darker than the corridor from which they had come due to only one candle in the far corner of the room being alight. He could make out that it was a large room with scarcely any furniture. The only thing breaking the uniformity of the walls was a table and chair, and a large bed in the corner opposite to where they were standing. “Come closer,” said a muted voice from the direction of the bed. “My guard has told me that you desire to speak with the king.”
“We do sire,” replied Gill.
"And is it true the son of Citeren is here?"
"It is Sire," replied Olivier. There was a pause, the room stood in time.
"Can you explain to me how the dead speaks?" said the king. Olivier stepped in front of Gill.
"I did not die Sire."
"Well then you must be an impostor," replied the king.
"I can assure you Sire I am not. The last time we spoke was on the day your son and I rode for Chaval. You entrusted in me the safety of your son, my closest friend. I have failed you both."
"If this is true where have you been for the last eighteen years?" asked the king. Gill noticed the guards were still beside them, all had their hands on their swords. “And for what reason do you request my counsel?”
“I have something I need to tell you Sire,” said Gill coming to Olivier's aid.
“Answer my questions,” the king replied.
“I,” started Gill, still trying to get the words he wanted to say in the right order in his head before they clumsily fell from his mouth.
"I am an old man and you will have to speak up,” the king demanded. “Come closer I can not see you in the shadows.”
Gill edged closer to the bed. He could see for the first time, as the candlelight spread the face of an old man. A drawn ashen face. Obviously a face that used to be hansom before the strains of life had taken their toll. It was still a face that instantly commanded respect however. The king's warm pale blue eyes set Gill’s mind slightly at ease.
“Now I can see you,” the king said, “continue.”
“Sire, I have been practicing in head what I wish to say ever since I found out who I truly am but the words now evade me,” Gills mouth was dry, his palms sweaty, he was frustrated with himself with his unintelligible response. The king did not reply letting the uncomfortable silence draw the words. “I,” Gill continued summoning any strength left in his body. “I am your grandson.” The words were out. Gills body tensed as he waited for a reply.
“And what makes you think this?” replied the king, oddly deliberate in his response. Gill couldn’t determine whether the king’s voice was evoking a sense of antipathy or disbelief. "And you man," the king continued in the direction of Olivier who was still cloaked in the shadows, "step forward."
Olivier did as he was asked.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” the king replied. “Is it truly you? My god Olivier, but I thought you were…”
“I have been my Lord. I died the day your son and I rode back from Chaval. The day Chaval’s men ambushed us. The day I was unable to save Etienne’s life.”
“Where have you been Olivier? What happened? Why did you not return?” The king’s voice was now full of anguish.
“Sire, your son, Gill’s father and I were cowardly attacked by eight of Chaval’s men, on our return from delivering parley to the King of Chaval. I managed to escape but Etienne was not so fortunate. I was unable to help him Sire. I could not save my friend.” Olivier kneeled down by the side of the king’s bed. “I have never been able to forgive myself. I could not return to Avalon. I do not expect you to forgive me Sire, and I have not come here for your forgiveness. I have come to deliver Gill to you. I feel that it was the dieing wish of your son that one day I would bring Gill here to meet his Grandfather.” Olivier placed his forehead on the king’s hand that lay beside him on the bed. “I am truly sorry that I could not save your son, and that he is not here to introduce Gill to you himself.”
“But how do you know this Olivier?"
Gill took the cross from inside his tunic, knelt beside Olivier and placed it in the king’s hand. Tears began to fall from the king’s eyes as he realised what he had been given. The king stared at the cross as it lay across his palm. “I have never forgotten my son Olivier,” said the king. “I have thought about him everyday, but touching this cross now, holding it in my hand, makes me feel like I am actually touching my son again,” the king closed his hand around the cross. “This cross makes me realise that my son was not just a beautiful dream. This is testimony that there was once a time, nearly two decades ago, that my beautiful son walked beside me,” the king lifted the cross to his mouth and tenderly kissed it.
"Sometime after that fateful day I found this cross in my Valise Sire." explained Olivier. "He had told me that he was to be a father on the day we left for Chaval, and I believe that he put it there so that I would know what to do should anything happen to him."
“Olivier, why did you not come and tell me what happened straight away? Why did you not tell me about the cross, about Chaval?”
“I could not Sire, I did not know how,” replied Olivier.
“Did I not deserve that much?” the king’s stare had shifted from the cross to Olivier’s eyes. “From that fateful day Olivier, when I ordered my son to his death until now I have lived a life of painful unknowing. I have grieved Olivier.”
“Sire I have lived a life of regret from that day also. Please try to understand. When you live a life without hope, each day blurs into one, days become months; months become years. There are no seasons, nor night or day; I had nothing to live for. I would wake each morning and wish that it were I, and not Etienne that died. I would curse the sun for rising each morning."
"Do you not think I have lived this life too Olivier," said the king.
"But then I found a reason to live again Sire. I found Etienne’s cross. It was his legacy to me. I felt that he had given me this cross in order that one day I would pass it to his child. I found something to focus my life on, to ensure that this young man one day was able to be here, in front of his grandfather. On this evening I have now completed what Etienne asked of me. It is not enough, I know, but I pray that I have pleased him. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I should have come to you straight away, but I knew Etienne Sire. He was an independent man, and man who made his own decisions." The king took Olivier's hand. "I did not come to you after I had found the cross because I felt that Etienne would have wanted his son to make the decision to come and see you himself. Gill could make his own decision when he was ready. Perhaps I was wrong, and if so I am infinitely sorry, but I am glad now that I waited. When I gave Gill the cross and told him of his lineage he did want to come and see you. I am proud today to be next to a young man who has grown into a person that Etienne would have been proud to call his son.” Gill placed his hand on Olivier’s shoulder.
“Olivier I do understand, and I am not be angry with you,” the king said, starting to realise Olivier’s remorse, and the undeniably difficult situation that he had found himself in. ”I can tell that you have suffered as I have.”
“Sire,” Olivier rose from his knee and Gill did the same, “I must say first that Etienne told me, on leaving Avalon for the last time, that he was desperate to tell you he was to be a father. He had found true love, love that was returned in equal proportion by a beautiful amazing woman.”
“Then why did he not tell me?” desolation visible in the king's face.
“He wanted to Sire. He told me that he was going to when we returned from Chaval but he did not get the chance.” Olivier paused as the king rolled on to his back wiping the tears from his eyes. “This young, strong, brave man is Guillaume.” continued Olivier. “His mother is Arlette, she still lives in your city, and cares for Gill and his uncle.”
“I am your Grandson Sire,” Gill said looking the king in the eyes. “I have not long known this. If you want me to leave then I will, and I will never speak a word of this to another soul, but I come to you to tell you this out of respect for you and my father.”
“I can see your father in your face Guillaume.” the king paused, his neck arching as he look to the ceiling of his chambers.
"I am sorry Sire," said Gill. "I should not have come. I will leave."
The king did not reply. He remained staring at the ceiling as Gill turned and began back in the direction of the door.
“Stop," the king said, lifting himself into a seated position. "I don’t want you to leave. I owe you so much. My actions have meant you have been robbed of a father, of your childhood.” The king looked up from Gill to Olivier. “And I also want you to stay Olivier. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I do not blame you for my son’s death. I blame myself and I blame Chaval.” Gill could see the warmth coming back into the king’s face, as if the love that had been missing for so long from his body was slowly returning. “I have so many questions to ask you both, but for now I ask one thing. I am an old man and I need rest. I ask you both to return to your homes and collect your possessions. I ask that you come back to the castle tomorrow morning to live with me.” Gill did not turn to Olivier, he stayed looking at the king and he could tell that coming to the castle would have been his father’s wish.
“We will sire,” replied Gill. With Olivier by his side. Gill turned and walked through the door taking a final look at his grandfather. The king looked back and smiled. It didn’t matter to Gill that his grandfather was the king, or that they were in the castle, finally he had found out who he truly was. It was a moment that Gill had been waiting for his entire life.

 “What is it?” Beni shouted as a guard burst into the soldiers living quarters.
“Beni, Beni I have important news.” Beni stood up begrudgingly having to leave his three friends to continue their game of dice without him.
“Not here,” Beni whispered in the guard’s ear who was still trying to catch his breath. Beni led the way out of the quarters and waited for the guard to follow before closing the door behind him. Beni looked around to make sure they were on their own.
“Go on then,” whispered Beni. “This had better be important, or so help me I will make you pay for interrupting my game.”
“It is Beni, It is,” replied the guard.
“Slow down.”
“I’m sorry Beni, I’m sorry. It’s just that. Oh you won’t believe me. It’s the king.”
“What about the king?” Beni shouted before he realised the circumstances and started whispering again. "What about the king?”
“It’s the king Beni. He has a grandson.”
“What?”

 Gill left the castle with Olivier, completely confused by his emotions. He hadn’t known what to expect from his meeting, and the king’s reaction perplexed him. He had made the move, fulfilled his father’s wish, but it felt that the encounter had created more questions than it answered. Olivier put his arm around Gill’s shoulders.
“What are you going to do now then Gill?” said Olivier. Gill continued walking; head down, not knowing how to answer his friend. He felt that the crossroads that he thought his life was at, now had many more directions in which to take.
“Go and see mother,” he replied finally.
“I can tell Gill that this is a new beginning for you and your family. And the relief I feel from finally fulfilling my obligation to your father feels like a beginning for me too.”
“I am glad my friend that you have finally found peace, and I pray that you speak the truth with the new beginning for my family,” replied Gill. “I think mother has always wanted to live in a castle.” He turned to Olivier giving him a smile.
"You are so like your father my friend."

The light was still on when they arrived back at the house. Gill could see his mother sitting in her usual position in front of the fire sewing. Sebastian was asleep, and there was a pot boiling above the fire. As the men entered the house she looked up at them and smiled. Gill made his way to her and she stood up, without saying a word, they took each other in their arms. As her head lay trembling on his shoulder Gill could tell that she was starting to cry, and now he was unable to hold back his tears. “I am so sorry I haven’t said anything before Gill,” she said.
“Mother I understand,” replied Gill.
“I love you Gill, and I will support you in whatever you decide to do.” She hadn’t let go of him; she didn’t want to take her cheek from his chest.
“The king wants us to move to the castle,” said Gill.
“But I don’t know how to live in a castle Gill. Who will look after the vegetables?”
“We will learn how to live in the castle together, as a family, with the help of the king.” Arlette paused and Gill could feel her pulling him tighter.
“And what do you want to do son?” asked Arlette. Gill paused; he had been pondering the same question ever since the king had asked him. Questions were spinning round his head: What is best for my family? How will it be living with a king? What would my father do? The final question gave him his answer.
“I want to go,” he replied, “I want us to go.”