Free At the Crossing Places by Kevin Crossley-Holland

away.”
    There’s quiet for a while, and now I see King Arthur’s whole army has come to a halt.
    â€œFor each man loyal to the crown, there is some Sir Pellinore, ready to take the law into his own hands,” Merlin’s voice says, “and for each Sir Pellinore, a man intent on treason. Hunt down your enemies wherever they are—King Brandegoris and King Clarivaus, the King of the Hundred Knights, King Lot of Orkney. Oblige them to swear their allegiance; and if they will not, put them to death. A weak king soon fosters enemies.”
    â€œThere will be a fierce battle,” says a dark voice in the wood.
    â€œThat’s what your dream means.”
    â€œWe’ll topple King Arthur.”
    â€œAnd we’ll sweep him away.”
    Now King Arthur’s knights shout and separate, they canter away to left and right. There’s a wind at their backs, and the linen surcoats over their armor tug and flutter.
    Arthur-in-the-stone raises his gold shield, and the scarlet dragon ramping on it roars at whatever is lying in wait for it.
    â€œThe dark forest of my life,” Arthur says.
    â€œBut not alone,” says Merlin’s voice.
    The herald puts his trumpet to his mouth. He gives a long blast and Arthur’s knights canter forward, followed by the foot soldiers. Now the king’s enemy breaks cover. Hooting and howling, they run out of the trembling wood…
    At this moment, there was a loud smacking and cracking on the stone steps up to my room. Hurriedly, I wrapped my obsidian in its cloth, and then there was a clout on the door.
    It was Izzie, podgy and pink-faced.
    â€œWhy are you making all that noise?” I asked.
    Izzie waved a stick and then smacked the wall with it. “It all echoes,” she said. “Is this your room?”
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œWho’s that man?” Izzie asked, pointing at my clay tile.
    â€œIzzie!” I said. “What do you want?”
    Izzie giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “Lord Stephen’s ready to ride to Verdon,” she said, and then she giggled again and ran back down the steps, trailing her stick behind her.
    â€œNow,” said Lord Stephen as we set off, “this country will be new to you. North through Bryn and Einion.”
    â€œWelsh?” I asked.
    â€œThe names are Welsh but the land’s English. It’s east of Offa’s Dyke. The muster’s at midday and it’s seven miles to Verdon, so we must keep moving.”
    â€œI’m looking forward to seeing Winnie,” I said.
    â€œAnd I want to know exactly how many Marcher knights have decided to take the Cross,” Lord Stephen said.
    What I didn’t tell Lord Stephen was that I was nervous Sir William might show up. “Adventure and the land oversea burn in his blood,” Sir John had told me before I left Caldicot, saying that he wouldn’t be surprised if Sir William decided to go crusading one last time.
    The first unlucky thing yesterday was that Izzie stopped me from seeing the battle between Arthur and his enemies. And then, while we were riding alongside the graveyard at Bryn, Lord Stephen made an awful choking sound and sneezed.
    â€œGod bless you, sir,” I said.
    â€œRight next to all these graves,” said Lord Stephen, shaking his head. “I couldn’t help it.”
    It wasn’t long before the angry dead took their revenge on us. About one mile after we had left Bryn, Lord Stephen’s palfrey went very lame; and then, while we were struggling along, we saw two brown-and-white pigeons sitting on the path in front of us.
    â€œThe pigeons of Caehowell!” Lord Stephen exclaimed. “First my sneeze, then this lame beast, and now these death-pigeons. Aman may choose to ignore one omen, but we can’t ignore three. We weren’t meant to travel today.”
    And with that, Lord Stephen patted his palfrey and wheeled him round.
    Before long,