He drew breath to speak when he saw me, but thought better of it and closed his mouth again and merely nodded towards the firepit, as if to say, 'There it is, do your work.'

I had half hoped he might have cooled to the idea and would release me from my promise. But, having fastened onto a thing, Uther was not a man to let go easily. Come what may, he would see it through.

So, gathering my cloak about me, I began walking in sunwise circles around the fire, holding my staff high. In the Old Tongue, the secret tongue of the Learned Brotherhood, I uttered the ancient words of power that would part the veil between this world and the Otherworld. At the same time I prayed Lord Jesu to give me wisdom to discern aright the things I saw.

I stopped walking and turned to the fire, opening my eyes to search among the glowing coals. I saw the heat shimmer, the deep hot crimson… the images:

A woman standing on the wall of a fortress on a high promontory, her hair flying in auburn streams as the wind lifts her unbound tresses, and gulls flying shrieking above her while the sea beats restlessly below…

A milk-white horse cantering along a river ford, riderless, the high-backed, heavy saddle empty, the reins dangling, dangling…

Yellow clouds lowering over a dusky hillside where a warhost lies slaughtered, spears bristling like a grove of young ash trees, while ravens gorge on the meat of dead men…

A bride weeping in a shadowed place, alone…

Bishops and holy men bound in fetters of iron and marched through the ruins of a desolated city…

A huge man sitting in a small boat on a reed-fringed lake, the sun glinting in his golden hair, eyes lightly closed, his empty hands folded upon his knees…

A Saecsen war axe hacking at the roots of an ancient oak…

Men with torches bearing a burden up a hill to a great burial mound set within an enormous stone circle…

Black hounds baying at a white winter moon…

Starving wolves tearing one of their own to pieces in the snow…

A man in a monk's woollen tunic skulking along a deserted street, glancing backward over his shoulder, sweating with fear, his hands clutching a vial such as priests carry for anointing…

The cross ofChristus burning above a blood-spattered altar… A babe lying in the long grass of a hidden forest glade, crying lustily, a red serpent coiled about his tiny arm…

The images spun so fast as to become confused and disjointed. I closed my eyes and raised my head. I had seen nothing of Pascent, nor anything that would help Uther directly. Nevertheless, when I opened my eyes again I saw a strange thing:

A new-born star, brighter than any of its brothers, shining like a heavenly beacon high in the western sky.

In the same moment, my awen descended over me. 'Behold, Uther!' I cried, my voice loud with authority. 'Look you to the west and see a marvel: a newmade star flares in God's heaven tonight, the herald of tidings both dire and wonderful. Pay heed if you would learn what is to befall this realm.'

Men exclaimed around me as they found the star. Some prayed, others cursed and made the sign against evil. But I watched only the star, gathering brightness, growing, soon shining as if to rival the sun itself. It cast shadows upon the land, and its rays stretched forth to the east and the west, and it seemed to me that it was the fiery maw of a fierce, invincible dragon.

Uther stood up from his chair, his face bathed in the unnatural light. 'Merlin!' he shouted. 'What is this? What does it mean?'

At his words my body began to tremble and shake. I staggered dizzily and leaned on my staff, overswept by a sudden onrushing of sorrow which pierced me to the heart. For I understood the meaning of the things I had seen. 'Great Light, why?' I cried aloud. 'Why am I born to such sorrow?' So saying, I sank to my knees and wept.

Uther came and knelt beside me. He put his hand on my shoulder and whispered softly. 'Merlin, Merlin, what has happened? What have you seen? Tell me, I will bear it.'

When at last I could speak, I raised my head and peered into his anxious face. 'Uther, are you there? Uther, prepare yourself,' I sobbed. 'Woe and grief to us all: your brother is dead.'

This revelation caused a sensation. Men cried out in disbelief and anguish. 'Aurelius dead! Impossible!… Did you hear what he said?… What? The High King dead? How?'

Uther stared in astonished disbelief. 'It cannot be. Do you hear, Merlin? It cannot be.' He turned his gaze to the star. 'There must be some other meaning. Look again and tell me.' I shook my head. 'Great is the grief in this land tonight and for many nights to come. Aurelius has been killed by Vortigern's son. While we chased Pascent throughout the realm, he has dealt in treachery, sending a kinsman to murder the High King in his own chamber with poison.'

Uther groaned and fell forward, stretching himself full length upon the ground. There he wept without shame, like an orphaned child. The warband looked on, tears shining in more than one pair of eyes, for there was not a man among them who would not have gladly traded Me for life with his beloved Aurelie.

When at last Uther raised himself up, I said, 'There is more, Uther, that is betokened. You are a warrior without peer in all this land. In seven days' time you will be made king, and great shall be your renown among the people of Britain. You will reign in all strength and authority.'

Uther nodded unhappily, not much consoled by these words.

'This also I have seen: the star that shines with the fire of a dragon is you, Uther; and the beam cast out from its mouth is a son born of your noble lineage, a mighty prince who will be king after you. A greater king will never be known in the Island of the Mighty until the Day of Judgement.

Therefore, arm the warband at once and march boldly with the star to light your path, for at sunrise tomorrow in the place where three hills meet you shall put an end to Pascent and Guilomar. Then let you return to Londinium, there to take up the crown of your dead brother.'

Finished, my awen left me and I slumped back, suddenly weak with exhaustion. Sleep rolled in dark waves over me, drowning all senses. Pelleas lifted me to my feet and guided me to my tent where I fell asleep at once.

Well, it was a night for dreams. Though my body slumbered, my mind was filled with restless images that fought in my fevered brain. I remember I saw much of blood and fire, and men whose lives in this worlds-realm had not yet begun.

I saw the swarming darkness massing for war, and the land trembling under a vast, impenetrable shadow. I saw children growing up who had never known a day's peace. I saw women whose wombs were barren from fear, and men who knew no craft or trade, but battle. I saw ships fleeing the shores of Britain, and others hastening towards the Island of the Mighty. I saw disease and death and kingdoms wasted by war. And, dread of all dreads, I saw Morgian. She, who I most feared to see in the flesh, met me in a dream. And though it chills the marrow in my bones to tell it, she appeared most happy to see me. She welcomed me – as if I were a traveller come to her door – saying, 'Ah, Merlin, Lord of the Fair Folk, Maker of Kings, I am glad to see you. I was beginning to think you had died.'

She was formidable; she was beautiful as dawn, and deadly as venom. Morgian was hate in human form, but she was not human any more: the last of her humanity she had given over to the Enemy in exchange for power. And she was powerful beyond imagining.

But even her power did not extend to harming men through their dreams. She might frighten, she might insinuate, she might persuade, but she could not destroy. 'Why do you not speak, my love? Does fear bind your tongue?'