Avallach greeted the rest of the party with equal enthusiasm – but stopped when he beheld Gwendolau and Baram. He turned to Charis and she stepped beside him. 'Yes, Father,' she said softly, 'they are Fair Folk also; they are Meirchion's people.'

The Fisher King raised his hand to his head. 'Meirchion, my old ally. It is long since I heard that name… ' He stared at the strangers, then burst into a grin. 'Welcome! Welcome, friends! I am glad you are here. Come into my hall, there is much I want to hear from you!'

That night Gwendolau, Baram, Maelwys and I, held audience with Avallach in his high chamber. The Fisher King's malady came on him again, so he retreated to his chamber where he lay propped up on his red silk pallet, face white against the dark curls of his beard.

He listened to Gwendolau's recitation of the events that had brought them to Ynys Avallach, shaking his head slowly, his eyes holding the vision of a time and place now lost for ever.

There were two ships, I have been told,' Gwendolau said. 'They were separated at sea – one reached this island. We never learned what happened to the other ship, although it was hoped we would discover one day. That is why, when my father met Myrddin – well, he thought the others had been found at last.' Gwendolau paused, then brightened. 'Still, finding you is just as good. I am only sorry Meirchion did not live to see it.'

'I, too, am sorry Meirchion is dead; there is so much we could say to one another,' he said sadly. 'Did he ever speak about the war?'

'I was not yet born when he died,' replied Gwendolau. 'Baram knew him.'

'Tell me,' said Avallach to Baram, 'for I would know.'

It was some moments before Baram replied. 'He spoke of it seldom. He was not proud of his part in it… ' Baram paused eloquently. 'But he allowed that without the ships we would never have survived.'

'We understand that your brother, King Belyn, was also saved,' said Gwendolau.

'Yes, with a few of his people. They settled in the south, in Llyonesse. My son Maildun rules there with him.' Avallach frowned and added, 'There was trouble between us and it has been many years since we have spoken to one another.'

'So the Lady Charis has told us,' affirmed Gwendolau. 'She also spoke of another ship, I believe.'

Avallach nodded slowly. There was another ship – Kian, my oldest son, and Elaine, Belyn's queen… ' He sighed. 'But it, like everything else, was lost.'

It had been a long time since I had thought about that lost ship. Kian and Belyn had stolen ships from the enemy fleet and had rescued the survivors of Atlantis' destruction. Kian had turned aside to save Belyn's wife, Elaine, and had never been seen again.

As a child I had heard of it, of course, but it belonged with all the other lost things of that lost world. But now, sitting in the king's chamber with Avallach and Gwendolau, I began wondering anew whether that ship was truly lost. Might it, like Meirchion's ship, have made landfall somewhere? Might there be, like Custennin's forest stronghold, another colony of survivors somewhere?

Gwendolau and Baram's presence made the possibility seem almost a certainty. If another Fair Folk settlement existed, where would it be found?

'My father has instructed me to offer you bonds of friendship by whatever token you esteem. He extends the hospitality of his hearth to you and yours now and for all time to come.'

"Thank you, Prince Gwendolau; I am honoured,' Avallach accepted graciously. 'I should like to prove that hospitality for myself, but as you see,' he lifted a hand to indicate his condition, 'travelling is not possible for me. Still, that must not interfere with the bonds of friendship – allow me to send an emissary to accept in my stead.'

'Lord, that will not be necessary,' Gwendolau assured him.

'Nevertheless, it shall be done.' Avallach turned his eyes to me. 'What about you, Merlin? Will you serve me in this?'

'Certainly, Grandfather,' I answered. Indeed, I had been wondering how I might find a way back to Goddeu and Ganieda. Suddenly, it seemed as if I were half-way there.

'But first,' continued Avallach, turning back to Gwendolau, 'I would have you speak to Belyn. I know he would be grateful for the information you bring. Would you consider going to him?'

Gwendolau glanced at Baram, who, as usual, gave no sign of what he thought or felt.

'I know you are anxious to return home, but having come this far…'

'Do not think of it,' replied Gwendolau. 'My father would approve, and, in any event, it is only a small delay.'

Ah, but that delay… another month or more before I could see Ganieda again.

'We have tarried this long,' Gwendolau said, 'a little longer will make no difference. And it furthers our purpose admirably.'

Oh, well, there was nothing to be done. It was perhaps the first time in my life that I felt the cramp of kingcraft hindering my plans. It would not be the last.

We talked long into the night. Gwendolau and Avallach were still talking when I went to my bed, and Baram, who never had much to say at any time, had given up long ago and was snoring softly in the corner as I crept from the room. I dreamed of Ganieda that night, and of a great hound with blazing eyes that kept me from her.

The next day Avallach and I went fishing as we used to do when I was a child. Sitting in the long boat with him, the sun pouring gold on the water, the reeds alive with coots and moorhens, brought that time back to me once more. The day was cool, for the sun had not gained its full strength, and a fitful spring breeze stirred the waves now and again. There was not much fishing done, but that was never the point.

Grandfather wanted to know all about what I had seen and done. For one who never moved beyond the boundaries of his own realm, he knew a surprising amount about the affairs of the larger world. Of course, in Elphin he had a constant and reliable source of news, and he always welcomed the traders that happened along the way.

When we returned to the palace, Collen was waiting for his regular audience with Avallach – a custom begun during the long winter months when Avallach, confined to his litter, had invited the priest to read to him from the holy text – a book of the Gospels which Dafyd had recently acquired from Rome. The reading had proven so beneficial to them both, they had continued it. Indeed, the brothers occasionally said mass in the great hall for the Fisher King and his people.

After recovering from his surprise, Collen greeted me warmly and we talked briefly about my 'ordeal' among the Hill Folk, before he excused himself to attend Avallach, saying, 'You must come to the Shrine when you can.'

'I will,' I promised, and did so the next afternoon. The Shrine of the Saviour God stands to this day on a little hill above the soft, marshy ground of the lowlands in that region. In spring flood the Tor and Shrine Hill are virtual islands; occasionally, the ancient causeway leading from the Tor is under water as well. But this year the rains had not been so heavy and the causeway remained dry.

The Shrine was much as I remembered it; the mud-daubed walls were newly washed white with lime, and its high-peaked thatched roof only a little darker with age. Someone had plaited the reed thatch into the shape of a cross at the roofs crown, and a fair-sized single-room dwelling for the priests stood well down on the shoulder of the hill away from the Shrine, but these were the only changes I noticed as I approached.

I tethered my horse at the bottom of the hill and approached on foot. Collen came out of the priest's dwelling, followed by two young brothers who could not have been much older than myself. They grinned and shook my hands in the Gaulish greeting, but, besides a murmured welcome, said nothing.

'They are shy,' explained Collen. 'They have heard about you,' he added cryptically. 'From Hafgan.'