As if to confirm my observation he said, 'But we will prevail, Bedwyr. We must. Or Britain is lost – and much else besides.'

'I do not doubt it, Bear.' I turned my eyes away from his to view the wide, shimmering sweep of Muir Guidan. It was peaceful and good, with the soft light slowly fading in the deepening sky.

'We will leave soon,' Arthur said, scanning the horizon with me. 'After Lugnasadh.'

That was not many days hence. 'So? But, I thought you wanted to see the shipyards restored.'

'Ector has everything well in hand. Lot has agreed to stay on and oversee the building of the first ships. I am needed elsewhere. We have tribute to collect and horses to break before winter.'

'The tribute!' I had forgotten all about that. 'I would rather fight Picti than collect tribute!'

'We cannot do the one without the other,' Arthur said.

'Then you do not believe the peace we have made with Baldulf will hold?'

The Duke shook his head slightly. 'No, we have not seen the last of Baldulf. And as for the Scot! and Picti – when did they ever heed a treaty?'

'We should have killed them and been done with it.'

'They would return in any case. This way they may learn something. Anyway, if we have to fight again I would prefer an enemy I know. But take heart, Bedwyr, the fighting is over for this year.'

'You are certain of that?'

'Yes.' He grinned and slapped me on the back. 'And we have won glory and honour – not to mention very much gold. We have done well.'

A few days after the autumn festival of Lugnasadh, we sailed for Caer Melyn with the morning tide. Arthur bade each battlechief take three or four ships under our command so that we could begin learning that subtle craft. Saints and angels, but they were more unwieldy than whales! It was like leading a warband mounted on pigs.

Arthur thought to serve warning that Britain's coasts were guarded once more, so we took our time, calling in at various ports along the way and taking every opportunity to allow our presence to be felt. We did learn something of the command of ships and collected tribute from the coastal reahns as well, so it was time well spent.

Nevertheless, upon reaching Abertaff, I was glad to be quit of the pitching beast and set foot on solid ground again. We unloaded the horses and rode to the caer, tired, full of the pleasure of homecoming, eager to settle before the hearth with a jar and a fresh warm loaf.

As we entered the yard – oh, the greeting we received from those who had stayed behind! – Arthur became uneasy. 'What is wrong, Artos?' I asked. The loud halloos still filled our ears as the warriors greeted kith and kin.

He glanced quickly around as one expecting to see his hall in nuns, or a roof aflame. 'Myrddin is not here.'

'No doubt he is inside, pouring out the beer,' I ventured.

'He would be at the gates if he were here." Arthur threw himself from the saddle and rushed into the hall. 'Where is Myrddin?' he demanded of the steward, a gaunt stick of a man, named Ulfin.

'The Emrys is gone, Duke Arthur,' Ulfin replied.

'Where?'

'He did not consult me, my lord.'

'Did he say when he will return?'

'He did not,' replied Ulfin stiffly. 'You know how he is sometimes.'

Then where is Pelleas?' Arthur's voice rose.

'Lord Pelleas came here but left at once. He went in search of the Emrys, I believe.'

Alarm tingled along my spine. 'When did he leave?' I asked, thinking that wherever they had gone, one or the other should have returned by now.

Ulfin cocked his head in calculation. 'Just after Lug-nasadh, my lord. A few days after. And he went alone.'

Arthur dismissed the steward and turned to me. 'I am not liking this, Bedwyr. Something is wrong. I am going to find them.'

'I will go, Artos,' I said. 'You are needed here. The kings will want an accounting of the northern battles.'

The Duke hesitated, fighting the logic. 'Where will you begin?'

'At Ynys Avallach,' I replied. 'Fret not, Bear, I will fetch them back before you know I am gone.'

'Take Gwalcmai with you,' Arthur replied, acquiescing at last. 'Or Bors – both, if you prefer.'

'Gwalcmai will serve.'

One night's sleep with a proper roof over my head, and I found myself in the saddle and on the trail once more. We departed in the grey dawn with the sun a vague rumour in the east, striking off for Ynys Avallach away to the south. To hasten our journey, I piloted one of our ships across Mor Hafren. Though another sea voyage was the last thing I would have chosen, it saved a good many days in the saddle. And I proved myself no mean pilot.

On making landfall, we rode with all haste, stopping only for water and food, and then moving on again without rest. In this way, we arrived at the Tor at dusk the second day from starting out. Evening mist rose from the lake and marshland round about, encircling the high-peaked Tor which poked through the vaporous white fog like an airy island rising above a flat sea of cloud. The steep green hill topped by its graceful palace seemed an enchanted realm – one of those Otherworldly mounds that appear and vanish as they will in the sight of bewildered men.

Now, as I have said, I had never been to the Glass Isle – though from both Myrddin and Pelleas I had heard about it since I was old enough to hear about anything. I felt I knew the place. And I experienced the uncanny sensation of returning after long absence to a home I had never seen before. The druids have a word for this, I think. I do not know what it is.

But, as we climbed the twisting path to the Fisher King's palace in the crimson and purple sunset, I found myself remembering small particulars as if I had grown up there – even to the lark song falling from the fiery sky high above the Tor. Gwalcmai was agog, with eyes the size of shield bosses as he gawked up at the soaring walls and towers. The polished gates – good old familiar gates I had entered a thousand times, and never once before – stood open, and we rode in to be met by the servants of King Avallach.

'They all look like Pelleas!' observed Gwalcmai, in hushed exclamation. 'Are all the Faery so made?'

'Why do you think they are called Fair Folk?' I asked him. Still, it was no less a marvel to me. While we had grown used to Pelleas and knew the truth, seeing others of that race made me want to believe all the idle and ignorant tales told about them.

'Look at that one!' Gwalcmai all but shrieked, as we entered the hall. He was beside himself with excitement. But then, he was from the Orcades.

'Stop pointing! That is the Fisher King,' I hissed. 'Is it the stables you are wanting for your bed?'

King Avallach advanced, dressed all in scarlet satin with a wide belt of silver plates like fish scales, the dark curls of his hair and beard oiled and glistening. His handsome face wore a smile of welcome and his arms opened wide to receive us. Though he could not have known who we were, I felt the quick warmth of his joy.

'God be good to you,' said Avallach, in a voice that came from somewhere deep in his broad chest as from inside a hollow hill. 'Rest and be welcome, friends.'

'Hail, King Avallach, I give you good greeting!' I said, touching the back of my hand to my head in salute.

'Do you know me?' the Fisher King asked.

'We have never met, Lord Avallach. I know you in name and appearance only. Myrddin Emrys has told me of you.' At my mention of Myrddin, the king nodded. 'I come to you in the name of Arthur, Duke of Britain.'

'Yes, yes,' replied Avallach. 'You are friends of Arthur's?'

'I am Bedwyr ap Bleddyn of Rheged, and – '

'So at last I meet the renowned Bedwyr!' roared the great king in his delight. 'God's blessing on you, Bedwyr ap Bleddyn. Arthur has told me much about his sword-brother.'