I slept well that night – despite the sensation of phantom waves heaving beneath me. As we broke fast next morning, the messenger returned with a token from the lord and a message urging us to come to him at once and receive a proper welcome.

King Ban of Benowyc was kinsman to Hoel, the king who had sheltered Aurelius and Uther from Vortigern when they were young. Hoel it was who had sent a warband to aid Aurelius against the Saecsen war leader Hengist. Thus the name of Merlin was well known to Ban, and to many others.

We mounted our horses – I vowed never to complain of the saddle again – and proceeded at once to Benowyc, where Ban was awaiting us with all eagerness. It was no great distance, and we soon reached our destination: Caer Kadarn, a large, well-kept stronghold on a hill overlooking the sea to the north and west.

'Hail, Merlin Embries!' he called from horseback as he rode out to greet us. 'Long have I desired to meet you.' He leaned from his saddle and gripped my master by the arms in the manner of kinsmen. 'Greetings and glad welcome to you. My hearth is yours for as long as you will stay – and I pray that stay be long.'

My master accepted this greeting graciously. 'Hail, Lord Ban! We have heard of the hospitality and courtesy of the kings of Armorica. Surely you must stand foremost among them to welcome strangers this way.'

This reply pleased Ban enormously. Indeed, the Annpr-icans enjoyed praise and ever sought means to elicit flattering words. 'But you are not strangers, my lord,' Ban said. The name of the great Embries is a name of renown and respect among us. You are merely a friend we have not owned the pleasure of meeting until now.'

As I say, the Armoricans were ever mindful of our good opinion, and eager to secure it. This they accomplished adroitly and without undue effort, so adept were their skills.

We were conducted to Ban's hall, where he had prepared a small meal of welcome: seeded bread, cheese, and a kind of heavy sweet wine. We tasted of these and listened as Ban described the events of the summer, and how he and his brother, Bors, the battlechief of Benowyc, had fought three battles against the Angli and Jutes in Gaul.

'I would like to meet your brother,' Merlin said.

To which Ban replied, 'Fortunate men bring their fortune with them I find. For, indeed, Bors is expected to return here the next day but one. He will want to greet you, too.'

We spent the day talking and riding, for Ban was keen to show us his realm, and to hear us praise it. As it happened, this was no burden to us for Benowyc was a fine and fair place, good to look upon, blessed with wide fields, forests of tall timber, and long, lush hunting runs second to none. Therefore was Ban a wealthy king.

Like many rich men, Ban proved overproud of his possessions, and took pleasure – perhaps too much – in showing them, speaking about them, lauding them and hearing them lauded.

Still, he had the respect of his people, who knew him to be a calm and steady ruler, and generous in his dealings. And whatever else might be said, he had not allowed his fondness for wealth to corrupt his good judgement. He was not one to make another feel abused or cheated.

Bors, on the other hand, was head to heel the warrior: hasty, intemperate, easily incited to arms and action, as fond of boasting as of drinking – and he was a champion of the cups, I can tell you! Nevertheless, he was superbly skilled in battle and in leading men, a ferocious fighter, possessing both the strength and temperament of a charging boar.

But the brothers shared the same love of life and hatred of the barbarian. Ban and Bors could be counted on to aid any who warred against the enemies of order and right. And, with their wealth, this aid could be considerable.

This was why Merlin had come, of course: to tell them of Arthur, and secure their good will and support. As their kinsman Hoel had aided Aurelius, Merlin hoped Ban would aid Arthur.

But there was another reason. It was something Merlin had glimpsed in the black oak water of the Seeing Bowl – an ancient druid object he sometimes employed to search out the tangled pathways of time. He would not say what he had seen, but it disturbed him and he wanted to discover its source.

The second day we were with Ban, the warband returned. A lavish meal – put on as much for our benefit as for the warband's, I believe – had been laid in the hall and we supped well. Bors, expansive in his pleasure at being home, turned to Merlin with a jar of beer in his hand. 'What is this I hear about you, Merlin? They tell me you are a bard. Is this so?'

Bors meant no disrespect, so Merlin suffered his ignorance with good grace. 'My lord," he replied modestly, 'I have been known to stroke the harp now and then. Some find the noise agreeable, I believe.'

Bors grinned and slapped the board with the flat of his hand. 'By Lud, that is a fine thing! The harp, you say? Well, I am your man, Lord Embries.'

'Pledge me no pledges until you have heard me play,' Merlin told him. 'Armorican ears may not find favour in what they hear.'

Bors laughed loudly at this. 'Play then, I say, that I may judge the value of British noise.'

At my master's bidding, I fetched the harp, ready tuned, and brought it to him. And, as was the custom in that land, the women, who had taken their meal elsewhere, now entered the hall to hear the tales sung. They came into the hall and found places at the board with the men, or near the hearth.

As it happened, Ban had a harper in his court, a young man named Rhydderch, whom everyone simply called Rhys: a thin, long-boned youth, unremarkable in aspect except for his eyes, which were large and wonderfully expressive, the colour of wood smoke. We had heard him play the night before.

At the sight of Merlin's harp, Rhys rose from his place at one of the further tables and made his way to the king's board. There he stood a little removed, watching intently as Merlin came to stand before the assembly.

'What would you hear, my lord?' asked my master.

Ban thought for a moment, then replied, 'As this is a friendly gathering, let us hear a tale of friendship and honour.'

Merlin nodded and began strumming the harp. The first notes leapt into the hushed hall, shimmering like silver coins flung from an Otherworldly purse, as Merlin's fingers wove the melody for his words.

The tale Merlin offered was Pwyll, Lord of Annwfn, as fine a tale of honour among friends as any that exist. It was especially fitting that night in Ban's hall, for through it Merlin was claiming friendship on behalf of Arthur, just as Arawn claimed it of Pwyll in the tale.

When he finished, the hall sat rapt, unwilling to desecrate the blessed silence following Merlin's inspired song. Then, as the last notes faded back into Oran Mor, the Great Music, as waves fall back into the gifting sea, we heard a crash. Bors was on his feet, his bench thrown over.

The battlechief climbed upon the board, where he stood gazing down at Merlin in awe and wonder. Bors raised his hands into the air and declared to all gathered in the hall, 'My people, hear me now! May I fall dead upon these stones at once if ever a man has heard such song beneath this roof. I say this noble service shall be rewarded… ' he grinned expansively and added, 'yes, even to the half of my kingdom.'

So saying, Bors jumped to the floor before Merlin and gathered my master in a fierce embrace. He then removed one of his golden armbands and placed it on Merlin's arm, to the delighted approval of all gathered there.

The people cheered and Ban banged his cup on the board, calling for more. But Merlin refused, begging pardon and promising to sing again before leaving. It was not his custom to flaunt his gifts.

After it became clear that there would be no more singing that night, the warriors and their women began drifting off to their various sleeping-places. Ban and Bors bade us good night and left us to our rest.