'Morcant hears this – how can he help it? "Stop! Stop!" he cries. "I will do as you ask. Name your tribute," he roars; he can hardly spit out the words he is so raged. Cerdic howls like a dog gone mad.

'"Thirty of your warriors," Arthur tells him.

'"Never!" King Morcant bellows.

"'Fifty then," the Duke replies.

'"Go you to hell, whore spawn!" is Morcant's answer.

'"Cai, I do not think Lord Morcant believes that we are in earnest. Take you a torch to his chambers and treasury," Arthur orders. He gazes down upon the writhing snake below and says, "Fortunately, we find no end of things to burn."

'And I make ready to do as I am bid. Well, Morcant is hearing this with his mouth open. He cannot believe what his ears are telling him. Still, he does not say anything, so I am beginning to think that he is stubborn enough to let it all go up in flames, just to spite Arthur.

'But, just as I leave the wall, I hear him shouting again. "Stop! Stop!" he cries. "I will do it!"

'I know better than to trust Morcant. I imagine him letting us think we are safe away and then turning on us the moment we show our backs. But Arthur has already thought of this, you see. So he says to Morcant, "Very well, you had better come in and tend to this fire before your palace is a heap of ashes." And he orders a gate to be opened.'

'How did he keep Morcant from overwhelming you all when they came in?' I asked, thinking that this was precisely what Morcant would do.

Cai threw back his head and laughed. 'We let them in but one at a time and took their arms as they came through,' Cai replied. 'Oh, he was canny, was Arthur. He took sword and spear, and issued jug and jar – to fight the fire, you see. By the time Morcant gains entrance, his men are busy fighting the flames and their weapons lie in a heap in the yard.

'Morcant was mad enough to bite the heads off snakes, but even he saw the futility of attacking Arthur alone. He boiled about like a cauldron left on the hearth too long, but he did not raise blade against us. I think he hoped to catch us in a mistake later on.' Cai's voice lowered to a tone approaching reverence. 'But Arthur was Morcant's master long before Caer Uintan's flames sprouted.'

'How did you get out alive?' I wondered. 'It was a dangerous game Arthur played.'

'Oh, it is a marvel indeed,' Cai agreed. 'In the end we simply rode out the way we rode in – but there were more of us by fifty, mind. For the Duke took his tribute from Morcant's best warriors.

'"Cai," he says to me, "you and Bedwyr choose out the best from among them. But mark you well: take only young men who have no kinsmen among those we leave behind." And this we did.'

I too marvelled at the shrewdness of it, as incisive as it was brazen. It took courage, yes, but it also took a rare and ready wit. Fifteen years old and well along to becoming a tactician the likes of the legendary Macsen Wledig. Arthur had ridden out with twenty-two and returned with seventy-two. He had increased the size of his warband threefold and more – and not a drop of blood spilled!

'See, by taking only the younger men – men with no ties of kinship to any of Morcant's,' Cai explained, 'the Duke gained men he could command as his alone. They would not be looking to return to Morcant, and would not hesitate to fight against Morcant if pressed to it at need.' He paused and added, 'Though, truth be told, Arthur could have had them all. Any man among them would have followed him without so much as a backward glance. I am telling you, the warriors did not love Morcant.'

All this Cai related upon their triumphant return. And the same tale was told Merlin hi turn. 'Well done,' said Merlin. 'Oh, very well done, indeed. Mark me, Pelleas, Arthur has won more than renown with this deed. With this he has won as many men as have ears to hear it!'

Perhaps. But, for the present, Arthur had a problem housing and feeding the men he already had. Whatever else, tripling his warband was a costly manoeuvre. In summer they could hunt, of course, but during the long winter – when there was nothing to be done but repair weapons and wait for spring – the food would simply vanish. Little wonder we wasted not a moment sending out demands for tribute to the kings who had promised to support us.

That summer was heady and hectic: a hall to raise, stores and granaries to erect, enclosures to build for cattle and horses, walls and earthworks to secure, food and supplies to collect. Fortunate indeed that Arthur had so many men; there was so much to be done that every hand was busy from dawn's crack to dusk's last light, and still much went undone.

As summer faded to autumn we waited for the wagons bearing the tribute. For with each passing day our need grew more acute and we knew that we could not last the winter without the promised supplies. We had cattle pens, yes, and we had storehouses – but nothing to put in them. We had a hall, but not enough skins to sleep on, nor cloaks enough to keep us all warm.

As I say, all the lungs had pledged tribute for the maintenance of Britain's warband. But when the first wagons began arriving – half-empty most of them, and the little they carried hardly worth transporting in the first place – we saw where the next battle would be fought.

'Why are they doing this?' Arthur gestured hopelessly at the meagre cargo being unloaded and trundled into the stores.

'Keep the Dux needy and they can control him. Control him and they can rule him,' Merlin answered. 'Men do not follow whom they rule.'

'Curse them!' Arthur grew instantly livid. 'I could take by force what was promised me.'

That would avail nothing,' Merlin soothed.

'Then are we to starve because of them?'

'No one will starve. Custennin and Meurig will see us through the winter, never fear.'

'And after that? It will be long before we can get crops sown and harvested.'

'Please!' cried Merlin. 'One worry at a time, Arthur. Do not borrow tomorrow's troubles today.'

'We have to think about these things.'

'Agreed, which is why I have already decided what to do.'

Arthur kicked at the dirt with his boot. Then why do you let me take on so? Do you enjoy watching me work myself into a sweat?'

'If you will stop raving for a moment, I will tell you what is to be done.'

Which is how I came to find myself aboard a ship, sailing across the sea called Muir Nicht, on my way to Armorica.

I had never been on a ship before, and discovered sea travel most unnerving and disagreeable. Though the sea remained calm, the ceaseless motion – rising, falling, rolling side to side – made me feel as if I were wine drunk and riding an unbroken colt. The crossing took the whole of one day and most of another, and never was a man more happy to espy those dust-brown hills of Armorica than I.

Gleaming darkly in the ruddy dusk, bold red-grey banks of clouds towered high above and twilight stars already showed overhead. I saw those hills and I felt as if I had spent all my life on that cramped boat and knew land only as a rumoured thing contrived by seafarers. The miracle – Great Light, the relief! – of that landfall brought the mist to my eyes, I tell you.

Merlin bore the journey without difficulty. He talked to the ship's pilot and crew, gleaning all he could from them. In this way he learned how affairs stood in Armorica, so that we should not be surprised at our reception there.

Upon making landfall, Merlin hired a messenger to take word of our arrival to the lord of the realm – a land called Benowyc. We stayed the night in the seaside settlement favoured by the ship's men. The people of this port were friendly and well disposed to serving the needs of travellers. Hence we were well provided with good food and better wine than I had tasted before. They talked freely of the events of Gaul, though considered themselves apart from it – more a part of Britain, as the likeness of our shared tongue confirmed.