'Let him enter,' Arthur commanded. 'We will hear what he has to say.'

The gate was opened and the rider entered. Arthur came to stand before him. 'Do not bother to dismount,' he told the messenger. 'Deliver your charge. What has Cerdic to say to us?'

The rider's brows rose slightly in surprise that we should know his mission already. 'Lord Cerdic asks that he may draw near your stronghold.'

'To what purpose?'

'He would speak with you.'

Arthur glanced at Cai and Bedwyr before answering. Neither made any objection, so he said, 'Go and tell Cerdic that I grant him leave to approach. He may bring three advisers with him – but no more than three.'

The messenger inclined his head and, wheeling his horse, rode back the way he had come.

We waited for Cerdic on the ramparts, the mist beading up on our cloaks and hair. And, but a short while later, we saw the war host of Cerdic and the rebel kings crest the far-off hill and begin their traverse of the long valley that stood before Caer Melyn.

'He has brought them all,' breathed Cai. 'Every motherless one of them.'

'Good,' said Arthur. 'Let there be an end.'

Merlin, too, stood on the rampart watching. But he said nothing.

When the war host reached the foot of the hill they stopped. We watched, then, as four riders came apart from the rest and continued on up the hill. Closer, we could see Cerdic flanked by two of his allies – Idris and Maglos, who rode a little behind him. Between Idris and Maglos rode a third man.

It took a few moments to discern the identity of the third, but when we did all became clear.

'Bors!' cried Cai. 'In God's name, they have Bors with them.'

Alas, it was true, Bors rode between Idris and Maglos, his hands and arms bound behind him. The warriors murmured darkly at this, but Arthur silenced them with a quick cut of his hand.

The four rode to the gates and stopped. 'Hail, Arthur! I give you good greeting,' called Cerdic insolently. 'What? Is this how you receive your masters – quaking behind closed gates with your sword hi your hand?'

'I agreed to listen to you,' Arthur replied coolly. 'Content yourself with that. You will receive no welcome cup from my hand.'

Cerdic barked a mocking laugh. 'Do you think me in the habit of accepting the hospitality of a thieving whorespawn of a Duke?'

'I will kill him for that,' muttered Cai under his breath.

Arthur ignored the taunt. 'If you have something to say, Cerdic, speak out. I am waiting.'

'I have come to make a bargain with you -' began Cerdic.

'Arthur, no! Do not do it!' shouted Bors, for which he was rudely silenced with the back of Maglos' hand across his mouth. Blood spurted from his split lip.

'Lay hand to him again,' warned Arthur ominously, 'and you will lose that hand, Maglos.'

'Save your threats, Duke Arthur,' Cerdic sneered, 'you are not in authority here. The bargain is this: the grain you have stolen from each of us, for the life of your minion, Bors. I make this offer once, and once only. What do you say? I will wait while you confer with your advisers. But I warn you, do not keep me waiting long.'

'Since you are so impatient, I give you my answer at once. Hear me now: kill Bors and his warband if that is what you intend. For I have vowed that none of you will ever so much as see a kernel of that grain except under one condition.'

The smile left Cerdic's face. He turned and spoke a few hasty words to his allies. 'What is this condition of yours?' asked Cerdic.

'Swear fealty to me, and renew your pledge of support. Then, when you have paid the tribute that you owe into the war chest of Britain, I will give you back your grain.'

'Never!' spat Cerdic. 'I will never swear fealty to you!'

Then you will not have the grain.'

'I will kill him!' screamed Cerdic, thrusting a finger at Bors.

'Do what you will with him. I will not trade the grain for anything except the fealty and tribute promised me.'

'You value the grain more than his life?' demanded Idris incredulously.

'I value the life of my friend no less than I value my own. But I value Britain above all. This war between us will be ended.' Arthur spoke boldly and with supreme assurance.

‘The grain stays here until you swear the oath of fealty to me.'

'May it rot in your mouths!' cried Cerdic. 'I will burn this fortress to the ground.'

'And then what will you tell your people when the winter hunger gnaws at their bellies? What will you tell them when their children starve?' replied Arthur in a voice as cold as the tomb.

Idris and Maglos winced; it was not in them to support Cerdic to the hurt of their people. Indeed, I believe they had grown weary of supporting him and wanted to make an end.

'Well, Cerdic? I am waiting. What is it to be?'

Cerdic writhed with indecision.

'You have lost, Cerdic,' said Bors through bloodied lips. 'Give in with honour.'

'No! I can still fight. We will fight you and take back what is ours.'

'We have fought all summer, Cerdic, as we have each summer for four years. I tell you there will be an end to this war between us.'

'Not while I have breath to curse you, bastard!'

The day had grown cold and the mist had turned to a light rain. Idris and Maglos glanced at one another uneasily. They were cold and dispirited. They had reached the end of their patience and endurance, and wanted nothing more than to be done with it.

'Lord,' began Idris, 'we have no choice but to do as he says.'

'He is right,' Maglos added. 'Let us end it here and now.'

'Do you desert me, too? Be gone, then. Take your men. I will fight him alone.' Cerdic's eyes flashed with hatred – and the sudden light of desperate inspiration. 'What say you, Bastard of Britain? Will you fight me for it? Or are you the coward men say you are?'

'I am not afraid to fight you, Cerdic.'

Then come out from behind your walls and we will fight.'

'No, Artos,' said Cai. 'Allow me to fight in your place.'

'Peace, brother,' replied Arthur. 'It will be well.'

'You are not going to fight him,' Bedwyr said. 'He is already beaten. Idris and Maglos are deserting him. He has lost.'

Arthur shook his head sharply. 'He does not know it. And I will not suffer him to leave this place to continue his treason against me. Those who support Cerdic must know that they have failed at last. I tell you the truth, I will have the fealty of all, or the fealty of none.'

So saying, the Duke turned back to Cerdic. 'I will fight you, Cerdic. If you win, you can take back the grain. But if I win, you will make an oath of fealty to me. Do you agree?'

'I agree,' answered Cerdic hastily. 'Let us begin.'

At Arthur's command the gates of Caer Melyn were opened and Cerdic, Idris, Maglos and Bors entered. 'Unbind him,' Arthur told them. Idris drew his knife and cut the thongs at Bors' wrists.

Then Arthur mounted his horse and, taking up his sword and shield, called out to all of us gathered around him. 'Hear me now, Cymbrogi! If I am killed, let no one lift a hand against Cerdic. I am not to be avenged. Let all men among you avow it.'

The warriors answered in a single voice. 'Let it be as you say!'

With this, Arthur gathered up the reins and turned to meet Cerdic, who had taken his place across the yard.

Bedwyr turned to my master. 'Myrddin, stop this. Nothing good can come of it.'

'Oh, a very great good can come of it. For, if Arthur wins he will have won Britain. That is worth the risk, I think.'

Bedwyr appealed to me, but I knew better than to try persuading Merlin once he had spoken his mind – as soon persuade a mountain to uproot, or a stream to reverse its course. 'Let be, Bedwyr,' I told him. 'Have faith.'

'I have faith in Arthur,' he replied. 'But I trust Cerdic not at all.'