Pendragon

'And it had best be soon indeed," Gwenhwyvar added. 'We have but one day's feeding for our own warriors, and not even that if we must share it with all.'

Conaire's smooth brow creased in concern, and the gratified smile faded from his lips. 'Is this so?' He swung accusingly towards Arthur. 'I thought you would bring food supplies with you.'

'I brought all I could raise,' Arthur answered. 'The peace of Ynys Prydein is but new-won; the war was long and our storehouses and granaries are empty still.'

'Besides,' continued Gwenhwyvar severely, 'this is not Britain's fight. Do you expect the British-folk to feed us as well as fight for us?' She cast him a withering glance. 'See here, Conaire Tight Fist, you must open that worm-eaten trove of yours and part with some of your treasure.'

Conaire rolled his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. 'The wealth of the Uladh is no concern of yours, woman!' he sputtered. 'Why, are there no deer on the hills, nor fish in the lakes?'

'If we are fishing,' Gwenhwyvar replied, arching a pretty eyebrow dangerously, 'we cannot be fighting. Or is it in your mind to frighten the Vandali away by waving fishnets at them?' She whirled away imperiously, denying Conaire any rebuttal.

'Ach! But she is a sharp-tongued terror,' the Irishman muttered. 'If she were not also a queen – ' He glanced at Arthur and left the thought unfinished. The southern lords drew near just then, and Conaire squared himself and straightened.

'It is simple truth,' I suggested, 'and plain as our need: we lack food. As this is your realm, Conaire, we must look to you to supply it.'

Conaire, still smarting under the lash of Gwenhwyvar's rebuke, did not wish to appear niggardly under the watchful gaze of noblemen from Connacht and Meath. He drew himself up full height. 'Never fear,' he said expansively, 'stand back and watch what I will do. There is no lack when Conaire Red Hand is near.'

'I leave the matter with you,' Arthur said. He turned to the southern lords and greeted them, then presented himself saying, 'I am Arthur, King of the Britons, and the man with me is Myrddin Emrys, Chief Bard of Lloegres, Prydein and Celyddon.'

'To be sure, the names of Arthur and the Emrys are not unknown among us,' one of the kings replied. 'I am Aedd of clan Ui Neill. Kinsman to Fergus I am, and it is my good pleasure to greet you, Arthur, King of the Britons. My men and I are at your service and yours to command.' Then he inclined his head in a slight bow of respect.

Turning to me, he said, 'But there is surely some error here: you cannot be that Emrys renowned in story. I had thought you full of years, yet here I see but a shaveling youth.'

Aedd spoke with such simple grace and goodwill that both Arthur and I found ourselves warming to him at once. 'Do not let appearances deceive, Lord Aedd. The old man of the stories and myself are one.'

Aedd expressed his astonishment. 'Then it is true! You are a very Prince of the Otherworld.'

'My people wear our years more lightly than most, I cannot deny it; but while we live we walk this world and not another,' I told him. 'So, in the name of the One who made us all, I am pleased to greet you.'

The remaining four now pressed in, eager to be recognized by us. Aedd, to Conaire's vexation, took it upon himself to introduce his fellow kings: Diarmait, Eogan of the Ui Maine, Ulan, and Laigin – all four young men and strong, at ease with themselves and with their men, confident in their abilities. Each displayed an easy wealth: they wore bright-coloured cloaks – red-and-blue striped, broom yellow, and emerald green; their torcs were huge gold bands of twisted coils which, together with their rings and bracelets, could have kept a governor's household; their boots and belts were good leather, and the swords on their hips fine steel, long and sharp-edged.

The five displayed an easy assurance to match their wealth. I did not begrudge it them. Yet I was mindful that Conaire, for all his confidence, was woefully ineffectual. Still, I thought, if swagger alone could prevail against the Vandal horde, we would not have to put hand to sword.

Each of the Irish chieftains deferred to Arthur, acknowledging his renown and placing themselves under his command. Aedd and Laigin, dark-haired handsome men, seemed particularly earnest in securing Arthur's good favour. This pleased and gratified Arthur, nor did it pass Conaire unnoticed. As this natural warmth began to flow between Arthur and his Irish brothers, Conaire grew increasingly tight-lipped and aloof.

We dined together that night, British and Irish together, noblemen all. And though the meal was far from sumptuous, it became a feast in the glow of new-kindled friendship. The Irish kings ceaselessly plied the British with questions about hunting and riding, battles won and lost, matters of kingcraft and kinship. They professed themselves delighted with all they learned. For their part, the British were pleasantly surprised by their Irish companions.

Most of the Britons had come harbouring long-standing resentment, if not hostility, towards the Irish. As I have said, they or their fathers had fought Irish raiders too many times to think well of them; and Conaire's poor showing and worse manners had not altered opinion for the better. For Arthur's sake alone they had come, not from any goodwill towards the inhabitants of Ierne. Now, however, seated side-by-side along the weathered board with a hole in the roof and the summer stars looking down, the British lords, like Arthur before them, found genuine affection springing up between them and the Irish chieftains.

Nor was it drink making them feel that way: we had only enough to wet our tongues with a welcome cup and the supply of ale was exhausted. Rather was it the inborn charm of DeDannan's children: their graceful flattery beguiled and enchanted. Like their music – which, along with nearly all else, they stole from Ynys Prydein years ago-their words spin and dance in beautifully intricate patterns, delighting both ear and soul.

'How they talk. It is like the angels, surely,' Cai chuckled, entranced by the lightness of their speech.

'They spin fine wool,' Bedwyr agreed, 'only you must not let it droop over your eyes, Cai.' He was reluctant to give himself to them wholeheartedly; having grown to manhood on Britain's western coast, Bedwyr had bloodshed to balance his opinion.

Laigin, sitting across from Bedwyr, overheard the remark. 'For shame,' he said, his smile wide and comfortable, 'is it to bruise my heart that you speak so?'

'I fear for you, friend,' Bedwyr answered readily, 'if your heart is so easily bruised. Life must be a perpetual injury to you.'

Laigin laughed. 'I like you, Bedwyr. And had I a drop left in this cup of mine, I would drink the health of Britain's Bright Avenger.' He raised his empty cup, cradling it in both hands: 'To the most noble warrior who ever drew sword or lofted spear.'

Bedwyr, resting his elbows on the board, allowed himself to be cozened by Laigin's flattery. 'It seems to me you need nothing in your cup,' Bedwyr replied, 'for words alone suffice to cheer you.'

'He is drunk indeed,' Cai observed dryly, 'if he thinks you the most noble warrior under this roof.'

'Again, I am wounded,' Laigin declared, placing his hand over his heart.

'Well,' Bedwyr allowed, 'I suppose we must offer some remedy for this injury.'

Laigin leaned forward eagerly at that. I saw that we had come to the kernel of the young lord's concern – and also how adroitly he had directed the conversation to his own ends.

'Allow me the honour of riding beside you in battle tomorrow,' Laigin said, eager as a boy for his father's approval.

'If that would console you,' Bedwyr began.

'It would encourage me wonderfully well,' Laigin put in quickly.

'Then so be it.' Bedwyr raised his hand in assent. 'If you ply the blade half as well as you employ your wit, we shall be the most feared warriors on the field of battle.'