At the dead of night, out of the shadow of the castle battlements, crept a young mother with her sleeping baby in her arms. Silently she stole across the pastureland, through slumbering villages, past outlying farms until she reached the distant forests and high moorlands. Only then did she feel safe from the conspirators who had killed her husband, the young Percival’s father. And there she raised her child, forgotten, in the high wilderness among the moorland goats.