'Hail, Great King! And hail to all your people!' said the foremost visitor. 'We are come from the court of Lucius, Emperor of the East, to beseech you in his name, and to deliver his desire into your hands.'

With that, the man withdrew from his robe a sealed parchment which he passed to the Pendragon. The parchment was opened and Arthur ordered it to be read out before all those assembled. In a voice loud and clear, the Emrys stood beside the king and this is what he read:

'Lucius, Procurator of the Republic, to Arthur, High King and Pendragon of the Britons, according to his deserv-ings. I marvel greatly at the unthinkable pride which has inflamed you. You hold all kingdoms in your hand and deem yourself most fortunate, esteemed among men. Yet you do not spare a thought for Rome who taught you the law and justice you so rightly honour.

'Need I remind you that you are a Roman subject? Do you so lightly consider Rome? You think to set the Western Empire in your hand, and who is to prevent you?

'Yet I, Lucius, tell you that while one enemy draws breath beneath the blue sky of Rome, you are no true ruler! Barbarians beset the Seven Hills and roam at will through the empty Forum. Enemies kill our citizens and despoil the land. Free and loyal Romans are carried off in chains to serve foreign slave masters. The cries of the homeless and dying echo in the Senate, and jackals mutilate the corpses of children.

'We hear of the Mighty Pendragon, Exalted One of Britain, King of Champions. All day long the praise of Arthur fills our ears. Your renown has spread to the ends of the earth, Right Worthy Ruler. But do we see your armies rise to the defence of your birthright? Do we see you lift your hand to help those who granted you the benefits you now flaunt?

'Have you forgotten the debt you owe? If your courage is even half so great as the fame-singers tell, why do you delay? The barbarian dog tears at the throat of the Mother of Nations. Where is the Wonderful Pendragon?

'You call yourself Emperor! Call yourself a god! You know not who you are, nor from what dust you are sprung, if you do not offer protection to the Mother of your youth. You are but a faithless craven if you do not march at once to restore the Pax Romana.'

Silence reigned long in the hall when Myrddin Emrys finished reading. That such an acrimonious and belittling message should be delivered to the High King at the moment of his triumph shocked the assembled lords. Arthur withdrew at once to his council room to confer with his lords, sixty in all, and determine what answer he should make to the Emperor Lucius.

Once gathered at the board, Arthur spoke in a stern and solemn voice. 'You have been my closest companions, my Cymbrogi; in good times and bad you have supported me. Help me yet again. Give me benefit of your keen wisdom and tell me what we are to do in the face of such a message as this.'

Cador was first to speak. 'Until now, I have feared that the life of ease which we have won would make cowards of us, that we would grow soft during these years of peace. Worse, our renown as champions of battle would be forgotten, and the Flight of Dragons would cease in our young men's memories.' He smiled as he looked about at his sword brothers. 'Perhaps it is to save us from this indignity that God has allowed this rebuke to reach us. Can we really enjoy our peace when the Seat of the Empire is befouled by barbarians?'

Some readily agreed with Cador, but Gwalcmai was quick to speak up. 'Lord King,' he said, jumping up, 'we should not dread the folly of our young men. If they forget the sacrifice that we have made to bring about this holiest of realms, that is their loss not ours. Even if it were not so, peace is infinitely preferable to war.'

Gwalcmai's words greatly calmed the more quick-tempered among them, and many agreed with him. So the council was divided and began hotly debating the matter among themselves. Arthur listened to all that was said, a frown deepening on his face.

When this had gone on for a while, Ban of Benowyc in Armorica stood and silenced the argument with upraised hands. 'Lord King,' he declared loudly, 'long have I served you in goods and gold and men. I do not think it boast to say that no other lord has supported you more loyally or steadfastly.

'Now then, it is all the same to me whether we go to Rome, or whether we stay. What do I care for the opinions of the idle young men among us? Such renown as I have is sufficient for me; I do not need to raise my name still higher for my own sake.

'Yet I wonder if there might be some greater benefit to be won by marching to the defence of Rome. If, by doing so, we could extend the peace we have enjoyed to the rest of the world, even now suffering the vengeance of barbarians, would this not be a worthy thing? Further, would it not be accounted sin to us to ignore this plea for help, when we could so easily give it?

'I am an old man and no longer need the acclaim of others to think well of myself. But neither do I enjoy a private peace when others suffer injustice that I could prevent.'

At these words the council roared its approval. Who could disagree with such sane logic, they cried. This is surely what must be done. It is not for ourselves that we save Rome, they said, but for those who suffer the barbarians' oppression.

When all had spoken and order was once more regained, the High King stood slowly. 'Thank you, my brothers,' he said, 'for giving me your sound advice. I will withdraw now to consider which way I will go.'

Arthur turned and left the chamber and the lords returned to the feast – all except Bedwyr, Cai, the Emrys and myself, who followed him to his private chamber.

'I cannot believe you would even for a moment consider going to Rome,' Bedwyr said, wasting no time. 'You are power mad if you think to honour Lucius' letter with action.'

'Speak your mind, Bedwyr,' replied Arthur with a grin. 'Unbind your tongue and do not hold back.'

'I mean it, Bear,' said Bedwyr icily, 'nothing good can come of it. No Briton who marched to Rome ever returned. Macsen Wledig went to Rome and they beheaded him. Constantine became emperor and they poisoned him. It is a snake-pit. Stay far away from there.'

Cai disagreed. 'How can he call himself emperor if he abandons the Seat of the Empire to barbarians? Go to Rome, I say, free it, and carry the throne back to Britain. Then it will be saved for all time.'

I did not know what to think. Both arguments appealed to me. It was true that Britons who entertained dreams of empire tended to die upon reaching Rome. Equally true, it seemed to me, that to allow the heathen to defy justice tainted the peace we had laboured so long to achieve.

So it was that we, with Arthur, looked at last to the Wise Emrys. 'Why do you stare at me?' the Emrys said. 'You have already made up your minds. Go and do what you have decided to do.'

'But I have not decided,' objected Arthur. 'God knows I am adrift here.'

The Emrys gave his head a shake. 'Nothing I say will change the heart within you, Arthur. I marvel that you have not already given the order to sail."

'What have I done to deserve this abuse?' asked Arthur in a wounded voice. Tell me and I will make it right.'

'I tell you this. If you uphold the council of men like Cador and Ban, then you deserve the abuse that comes to you!'

'But I do not uphold their council. I am asking for yours.'

'Then hear me well, for when I have finished I will speak no more about it.'

'As you will,' replied Arthur, sitting down in his chair.

'Listen then, O King, to the Soul of Wisdom!' The Emrys, in the manner of the druid bards of old, pulled his cloak tightly around him and stood before the king, head erect, eyes closed, voice raised in declamation. 'Through all things I have laboured, to this end only: that the Kingdom of Summer might be born in this worlds-realm. In you, Arthur Wledig, this has been accomplished. You are the Champion of Light that was foretold of old; you are the Bright Promise of Britain, you are the Chief Dragon of the Island of the Mighty, you are the Favoured One of God, who has so richly blessed you.