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Though he tried to keep track of the turns Gavin made, Philip became lost as they went
down a set of stairs to the right and then took another staircase up and turned left. They seemed to be walking in circles.
Gavin stopped in front of a tapestry whose bright colors had long ago faded. Still visible,
however, was the scene depicting a royal stag. Philip recognized the stag, its proud head held high, its regal stance, and its color...white.
Even he had heard of the white stag. The tales told of kings whose hunts for the animal had destroyed their kingdoms. It was said only the one true king of all Britain would succeed in capturing the white stag. And, if the king released the stag, his kingdom would stand forever, his descendants ruling until none were left. There was talk among the villagers that King Arthur had done just that, and he was the true king of all Britain.
Gavin’s hand on his arm pulled Philip back from his musings. Gavin raised a corner of the tapestry and disappeared behind it. Philip followed, trembling as he touched the cloth of legend.
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