Arthur

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.'

'I give you good greeting, Aneirin ap Caw. What word would you have of me?' The battlechief fixed me with a bemused and curious gaze.

'I would hear more of this person Morgian,' I said, little knowing what I asked.

Gwalcmai became suspicious. 'What have you to do with her, boy?'

'Nothing at all, my lord. But I am thinking that there is a mystery here, for no one will so much as speak her name aloud.'

'That is not difficult to believe,' replied Gwalcmai. He pulled on his chin and regarded me carefully. Then, turning quickly, he said, 'Come, I will tell you what you want to know. But not within these walls.'

We walked out from the hall to the training yard behind the palace. Gwalcmai remained silent for a while and we walked together, our eyes on our feet.

'May my Lord Jesu forgive me,' he began suddenly. 'Perhaps it is best for these things to remain hidden. It is beyond me to say. God alone knows what is best. But I think that it is time that Morgian's reign was ended, and I am pledged to bring about that end. Or, if I am not to succeed, it is for someone else. That is why I am telling you.' He stopped and gripped my shoulder. 'Do you understand, Aneirin ap Caw?' •

I nodded solemnly. I, too, felt the dread weight of his words falling like lead into the clear pool of my heart. Clearly, this mystery was deeper than I knew.

'Seventeen years ago it began. We had been fighting in the north and returned to Caer Melyn to find that Myrddin was not there. Pelleas rode in search of Myrddin and, when neither one returned, Arthur sent Bedwyr and me to find them.'

He paused and shook his head. 'Pelleas – ah, it is long since his name has passed my lips.'

'Who was he, lord?'

'Pelleas was a matchless warrior; he was a Fan- Folk prince who served the Emrys, and he was also one of Arthur's battlechiefs in those days. That both of them should go missing concerned Arthur in no small way. Bedwyr and I rode after them.' He paused, remembering that time years ago. When he spoke again his voice was heavy with sorrow. 'We found Myrddin sitting on a crag in Llyonesse, blistered and blind, and raving mad – or so I thought.'

'What of Pelleas?'

'There was no sign of him. We bore Myrddin to the Tor at Ynys Avallach, and then I went back to continue the search… I found never a trace of Pelleas.

'Still, I searched. From Llyonesse I travelled to Gorre – that diseased cluster of islands in the south. I found nothing there, but learned of a Fair Folk settlement in Armorica. I sailed to Less Britain and sojourned with Ban. The settlement I sought was near his realm, I was told, but if so it was no longer there. I travelled into Gaul and came into the court of Clovis, where I met Bishop Sepulcius and was baptised a Christian.

'My search has availed me nothing,' Gwalcmai concluded sadly.

'I would not say so,' I told him. 'The Emrys said that you left to find Pelleas and found God instead.'

Gwalcmai laughed. 'Oh, he is wise indeed. Yes, that is what happened in the end, I suppose. That is why I stayed so long with Sepulcius – I felt that my life had purpose when I was with him. And since King Clovis depended on that saintly man, I stayed to help him. The Ffreincs are even more contenuous than the British – believe that, if you will.'

'You have spoken of Pelleas,' I said. 'But what of Morgian?'

'I was coming to that.' Gwalcmai grew sombre once more. 'She is the one who blinded Myrddin and left him to die in Llyonesse.'

'What!'

'It is God's truth I am telling you.'

'But how?' I could not imagine anyone besting the Exalted Emrys, Chief of Bards of the Island of the Mighty.

'She is a Fair Folk enchantress, a Fair Folk witch, most powerful and dire. She is evil itself, and potent as death.' He spoke with such vehemence I turned to him in wonder.

'You know her well?1

'Aye,' he said ruefully, 'I know her well enough to wish that I did not.'

'You said she had come here. We have not heard of it.'

'I said her trail led north,' he corrected. 'I do not think she would come here – at least not yet. I think she is in the north, in Ynysoedd Erch, perhaps.'

'Lot's realm – your father's'

'Perhaps,' he allowed warily. 'But there are other places she would be welcome. Wherever Arthur has an enemy, or someone wishes Myrddin ill – there will she find a friend.'