Arthur

'I – I am your servant,' I stammered, and blanched at my ineptitude.

Charis honoured me with a smile. She linked arms with her son and they began walking back to the yard together. I was happily, and gratefully, forgotten in their reunion. I was more than content to follow on behind. Fragments of their conversation drifted back to me, and I listened.

'… sorry to leave the Tor,' Charis said, 'but it is for the best… '

'… difficult, I know… much closer… be together more often now… '

'… a blessed place. We will be happy here… the Tor… too many… Avallach could not abide it… so much has changed… '

We reached the gates; Charis halted and embraced her son, holding him for a long moment. 'I am glad you have come; I could not be happier. Arthur has been so good to us. We will do all to repay his trust and generosity.'

'There is no need. I have told you, the High King views Avallach as an ally, and needs a strong hand to hold this island. It is an ancient and holy place – there should be a church here. With you and grandfather here, there will be a church and more: a monastery, a llyfrwy for your books, a hospice for the sick. Your work will flourish here.'

The Lady of the Lake kissed her son, and they walked through the gates. We crossed the yard and entered the king's hall to be greeted with rich cups of silver and horn filled with sweet golden mead. I was offered to drink as well, and did so, but it might have been muddy water in my cup for all I noticed. The hall of the Fisher King stole away my thirst.

High-vaulted the roof and many pillared, the structure could have held three hundred warriors at table with room for the bards, priests, stewards, serving boys, dogs, and all the retinue that went with them. At one end of the long room lay an enormous hearth, at the other a screen of gold-painted ox-hide, with the king's chambers beyond. The floor was of white cut stone, covered with fresh rushes; the pillars were timber, stripped, bound together and carved in upward spiralling grooves.

The king had ordered chairs to be set up, but we did not sit. Instead, we stood sipping the mead and talking – rather, they talked, I simply stared about me at the hall. Hearth and pillars, tessellated floor, and high-pitched roof – it was unlike any I had ever seen. What I saw, of course, was Fair Folk craft, blended with the lively artistry of the Celt.

Later, after our evening meal, the Great Emrys sang in the hall of the Fisher King for his mother and all gathered there. He sang The Dream ofRhonabwy, a tale I did not know and had never heard before. Both beautiful and disturbing, I believe it was a true tale but its truth had not yet taken place in the world of men; much of the song's meaning had to do with future things, I think. Though the High King was not directly mentioned, Arthur was several times implied.

This is what Myrddin sang…

In the first days of Ynys Prydein, when the dew of creation was still fresh on the earth, Manawyddan ap Llyr ruled in the Island of the Mighty, and this is the way of it.

Manawyddan, firstborn of Mighty Llyr, lived long and attained great renown through deeds of courage and valour. He had a kinsman, a man of lesser worth and rank, and this cousin, Medyr, became chafed and annoyed seeing the glory his kinsman enjoyed while he himself had nothing. So up he jumps one shining morning and calls to his tribesmen. 'Lieu knows I am sick of this,' he said. 'All day long I am distressed, but does Manawyddan take notice of my affliction? No, he does not. What shall we do about such a state of affairs?'

The tribesmen looked at one another, but could make no answer. Medyr shook his fist at them. 'Well? I am listening, but hear nothing save the four winds blowing through your heads as through empty shells.'

One of the elder tribesmen spoke up and said, 'Lord Medyr, if it is advice you are wanting, we would be less than good men if we did not tell you to seek out the Black Hag of Annwfn, who knows all that passes everywhere and holds such powers of counsel as to make any man a king who heeds her.'

'At last!' cried Medyr. 'Lieu knows it took you long enough. But this advice seems good to me. I will do as you say.' At once he climbed upon his horse and rode off to seek the Black Hag.

This creature lived in a mound in a birchwood copse near a river. When Medyr found her he summoned her from her dank lair. Foul was her appearance; fouler still the smell which besmote poor Medyr's nostrils. But he had determined to see the thing through and he heeded her advice – which consisted of nothing more than that Medyr should go to Manawyddan and demand to be taken into his care.

This he did. Manawyddan, thinking no ill, received Medyr with good grace and honoured him far above his rank by offering to make him a battlechief and head of a fair warband. Medyr agreed and was satisfied for a little time. But in the end he tired of the work and considered that he might better himself more quickly by raiding. So he rode off and began a life of plunder and pillage, burning holdings, stealing cattle, killing any who made bold to oppose him.

Manawyddan was not the king to stand aside and see his people hurt in this way, so he called forth his best men and asked them to choose from among them the noblest and bravest who should go after Medyr and end his vile slaughter. These were the men who were chosen: Rhonabwy, Kynrig Red Freckles, and Cadwgan the Stout. Everyone agreed that if these men failed it would not be through fault of valour, or courage, wiles, or skill at sword, or through any other fault – for among them they possessed none – but through dark treachery alone.

'Very well,' said Manwyddan when they came before him, 'you know what to do. I bless you and send you on your way. Go in peace and return victorious.'

The three rode out at once and the trail was not difficult to raise, for they simply followed the scorched earth where Medyr had passed. For days and days they rode, and came at last to the holding of Heilyn Long Shanks. As twilight was coming on they decided to stay the night and approached the house.

When they came into the yard they saw an old black cave of a hall with smoke pouring out of it. Inside they saw a floor at once so pitted and bumpy, and so slimy with cow dung and urine, that a man could hardly stand upright without either slipping and falling down or sinking into the stinking mire. And over all was strewn holly branches and nettles which the cattle had been chewing.

Nothing daunted, they continued on and came to a chamber at the end of the hall where they found a sickly hag before a sputtering fire. When the fire guttered the hag threw a handful of chaff into the flames and the resulting belch of smoke brought tears to the eyes. The only other thing that was in this rude chamber was a hair-bare yellow ox-hide. Fortunate indeed was the man who slept on that!

The travellers sat down and asked the hag where the people of the holding were to be found, but she sneered at them, showing her foul teeth. Presently, a thin man, completely bald and withered, entered the hall. He was followed by a grey, stooped woman carrying a bundle of sticks. The woman threw down her bundle before the hag, who made up the fire. The grey woman then began to cook a meal, of which she gave a portion to the three strangers: hard bread and oat gruel and watery milk.

While the three ate this poor fare a fierce rainstorm arose; the wind blew so that trees bent nearly to the ground and the rain fell sideways. Since it was useless to travel on, and since they were tired from their long journey, they decided to stay hi the hall, saying, 'After all, it is only for one night. Fortunate are we indeed if this is the worst thing that befalls us.'

Then they prepared to sleep. And their bed was nothing but a pile of flea-ridden straw with a tattered old greasy cloak thrown over it. Clamping their hands over their noses, they lay down. Rhonabwy's companions fell asleep to the torments of the fleas. But, after thrashing around on the filthy straw, Rhonabwy decided that neither rest nor sleep would come to him if he did not find a more comfortable place. He spied the yellow ox-hide and thought that if he did nothing else he might at least escape the fleas, so he got up and went to lie down on the ox-hide.