I shrank back behind a bush, lest I attract his attention and he should be drawn to the shrine. But I might have saved myself the trouble. For, though he looked neither right nor left, as he drew even with the monument, he turned his horse and drove the animal straight up the hill track to the rotunda.

At first I thought to run and fetch the Emrys, or otherwise warn those within, but something stayed me, some familiarity of the rider. For though he was strange indeed to my eyes – dressed in bright red tunic and trousers, with a fine blue cloak edged in fur, and with a silver tore at his throat – I felt I knew him somehow.

He halted, swung from the saddle and jumped down. I had seen another do that just this morning. Gwalchavad had dismounted just that way.

But it was Gwalchavad! Impossible! I had seen him go into the rotunda only moments before. Another then, yet like enough…

Out of the corner of his eye he must have seen me lurking near the thicket, for he turned suddenly, his spear swinging level. 'Please, my lord,' I said. 'Put up your spear, this is holy ground.'

He grinned pleasantly. 'Startle a warrior and take your chances, boy,' he replied. 'I mean no one harm. Have they gone in already?'

I nodded. He dropped the reins to the ground and turned to gaze at the shrine. Then, without a word, he climbed the steps to go in. I rushed after him, thinking to prevent him, but he reached the doorway first and entered. Dreading the intrusion, I hurried after him and entered just in time to see the High King leap to his feet with a look of astonishment on his face.

The others appeared equally astounded, but no one seemed to mind the interruption. Gwalchavad recovered speech first. 'Gwalcmai!' he cried. 'Brother, where have you been?'

Gwalcmai ignored him and went straight to the High King and fell down on his face before him, stretching out his hands to either side. Arthur bent low and gripped him by the shoulder and raised him, saying, 'Rise, Gwalcmai, you are welcome in my company. Get up, brother, and let us look at you!'

Gwalcmai climbed to his feet and embraced his king, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. Gwalchavad pounded him happily on the back and the two brothers fell into one another's arms. In all, it was a glad reunion. Bedwyr and Cai gathered near and clapped hands to him as well.

I saw the Emrys standing by and crept near. 'I tried to stop him,' I explained in a whisper.

'No need,' he said. 'He is one of our own returned from a long journey.'

'Very long?'

'Seventeen years.'

A far journey to take so long, I thought. 'Where did he go?'

'Oh,' replied the Wise Emrys, 'he went in search of himself and found God instead.'

This made no sense to me at all, but I did not pursue it further at the moment. I left the others to their ceremony, and returned to my place at the horse picket. The sudden appearance of the rider put me in mind of another intruder – the one who had come to the rotunda that night. The feeling made me uneasy, though I could not think why.

'I have been several years with Bishop Sepulcius, receiving holy instruction from that good man,' Gwalcmai said. 'And before that I wandered long in Llyonesse, Gorre, and Armorica.'

We were at meat in Caer Lial, having returned from the Round Table at dusk. Everywhere was Gwalcmai welcomed and greeted by one and all. He had been away so long, no one ever expected to see him again, thinking him dead and gone.

On the way back to the city, the Emrys explained to me how it was. 'He went in search of Pelleas,' he said.

'You said he went in search of himself,' I reminded him.

'So he did. He thought he was searching for Pelleas, but it was his own soul that stood in need of saving.'

'Who was this Pelleas?'

The Great Emrys sighed. 'Pelleas was my steward, and my dearest friend.'

'What happened to him?'

The Emrys fixed me with a stern glance from his golden eyes. 'You ask too many questions, boy.' He turned away and we journeyed on in silence.

As we sat in Arthur's hall, I listened closely, to hear any word that might explain the mystery of Pelleas. Gwalcmai spoke freely of his years away from his companions. I learned that he and Gwalchavad were sons of the rebel Lot, who I knew had once been one of the Pendragon's chief supporters.

That was news! Everyone knew that Lot of Orcady and Arthur had been uneasy allies at best. The rumour, never denied, was that Lot had failed to answer the hosting against the barbarians in the days of Cerdic's rebellion. For this was Lot ever outcast from Arthur's court.

But here were the sons of Lot, enemy to Arthur, sitting at his table, enjoying the favour of his presence, honoured among men with tores of silver and rings of gold from the High King's own hand – never languishing in a hostage pit for so much as a single day. It made no sense. Indeed, it served only to deepen the mystery.

'I was six years in Gaul,' said Gwalcmai, 'in the court of the Ffreinc king, Clovis. When he died, I returned to Ynys Prydein and once more took up my search for Morgian.'

At mention of Morgian's name, my interest quickened. I crept closer to the board, clutching my serving jar. What about Morgian?

Gwalcmai turned his gaze to the Emrys and said, 'Her trail led north.' Cai and Bedwyr exchanged worried glances and those at the table grew silent. Clearly, this Morgian was a person of some power – the mere mention of her name cast a shadow over the festivity of the gathering.

King Arthur slapped the table with his hand. 'God love you, Gwalcmai, but it is good to have you with me again! We have much to discuss in the days to come.' The High King pushed his chair back and rose. 'Please, take your ease and enjoy this night, my friends. I will join you again tomorrow.'

Talk continued around the table, but I followed Arthur with my eyes and saw that Gwenhwyvar had appeared in the hall. The High King went to her and embraced her. Together, arm in arm, they passed from the hall to the royal chambers beyond.

Nothing more was said of Gwalcmai's long absence. Gwalcmai wanted to hear about the wars, and the others Were eager to tell him all. Bedwyr, who remembered well each and every array and ordering of each battle from the Glein to Baedun and before, spoke with great eloquence and at length. The others gradually conceded the field to him, encouraging him with remembrances of their own.

Gwalcmai listened to all in a rapture, now with half-closed eyes imagining the battle place, now with cries of amazement and praise for the courage of the combatants. Somewhere in the midst of the long recitation the Emrys left. I do not know when this happened, for I was absorbed in the tale myself. But when I looked up he was gone.

Since the Wise Emrys preferred his silence in the matter of Morgian, I thought that Gwalcmai would not mind speaking about it, so I determined to ask him at first opportunity.

Thus, the next morning when he came to the hall to break fast, I approached him boldly and told him what was in my mind.

'If you please, Lord Gwalcmai, I would have a word with you.'

I think he was taken aback by my presumption – a serv* ing boy demanding council of a battlechief of the High King's retinue. But my boldness appealed to him, I think, or at least it brought him up short. For he stopped and stared at me. 'Do I know you, lad? Were you not at the board last night?'

'I was,' I told him, 'and before that I challenged you at the Shrine of the Round Table.'

The battlechief laughed easily. 'Yes! Yes, now I remember you. Plucky lad, you have a warrior's way about you. Tell me your name, boy, for I ween you were born to higher things than passing ale jars.'

'I am filidh to the Emrys,' I told him proudly. 'It is true that I was born to higher things. Yet I am content to serve the High King however I may – be it ale jars or sweeping floors. I am Aneirin ap Caw; my father is lord of Trath Gwryd.'