By Vera Chapman
A mystical glimpse into the mythical age of Arthurian chivalry. Ursulet, daughter of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, captured via Saxons and doomed to lsoe her kin and background. Knightly chivalry is beset through darkish Age barbarity during this richly woven tapestry of heroes and heroines, monsters and saints, temptresses and magicians.
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Quiet smiling maidservants removed Ursulet’s wet shift, and clothed her in a beautiful dress of sky-blue and gold, and replaced her soaking sandals with soft warm slippers. Then they led her to a table, where the lady in white served her with delicious food and drink. The maid-servants said no word, but vanished. After a while Ursulet began to ﬁnd words. ’ ‘That you will ﬁnd out in time,’ her benefactress said. ‘Let it sufﬁce that I know who you are. ’ Ursulet looked up sharply. ‘Yes, of course, for you are King Arthur’s daughter.
The Saxons? Ha, yes. You’d do better to stay here and work for Hertha and Burl. They’re all right. Yes, Burl is a randy beast, but Hertha won’t let him touch you, she’s as jealous as the devil. ’ Her eyes strayed to the charm about Ursulet’s neck. ‘Here, what’s this? ’ ‘Oh, of course you wouldn’t say so, but you needn’t be afraid to tell me — I’m on good terms with plenty of them, though I’m not one myself — lots of people would say I am, for they’ll say that of anyone who knows anything. ’ ‘I’m not a witch, if that’s what you mean,’ said Ursulet.
You want to ﬁnd the Princess, and restore her to Arthur’s throne, do you not? Well, let me tell you, your dear old godsibs in there, Sir Bedivere and the lady, your great-aunt Lynett — they don’t know where she is. But I know! ’ He leant forward, gripping the rail of the faldstool. ’ The red lips laughed at him. ‘Yes, I know where she is. ’ he whispered. ‘Come with me and I will show you,’ and she sidled round again to his left, and up till she stood by his left shoulder. ‘Come with me. It will do you more good than all this ancient formality.