God's truth, I believe they consider him an Otherworld being, sprung up in their midst from the dust under their feet, or called down by Myrddin Emrys from the mists of high Yr Widdfa. Certainly, no one thinks of him as a man – with a birth and boyhood like any other man. Nor do bards tell of it.

Stories abound in the land in these days; they grow thick, like moss on a fallen branch. Some few have a mote of truth in them, but far too many do not. It is natural, perhaps, the desire to make more of things – a tale does often grow greater in the telling.

But it is not needful. Purest gold needs no gilding, after all.

It is Arthur the War Leader that I speak of, mind. Artorius Rex, he was not. All through that long season of strife he remained unacknowledged by the small kings. Small dogs, more like. Though they begrudged him even the tide of Dux – and that was a travesty! – he wore it proudly, and fought the wars for them.

The wars… each glorious and hideous, each different from all the others, yet each one exactly alike in the end.

There were twelve in all. The first took place the very next summer after Arthur bested Cerdic in single combat and ended the rebellion against him. Arthur had spent the winter at Ynys Avallach and returned in the spring, bearing his new sword, and burning with his new vision of the Kingdom of Summer.

I had gone to the breeding runs – the sheltered glens east of Caer Melyn, where we wintered our horses and maintained the breeding stock – to see what we could count on for the coming year. It was foaling season, so I stayed on to help midwife a few colts into the world.

Winter had lingered long and I was glad to be free of the caer for a few days. I have always disliked close places, preferring wide hills and a lofty sky to the walls and peaked roof of a hall. Though cold at night, I was glad to stay with the herders in their hut, and ride with them during the day as they tended the animals.

One gusty morning, I was leading four swell-bellied mares down the valley to the enclosure near the hut where they could be delivered more easily. Feeling the fresh wind on my face, my spirit rose within me and I began to sing – loudly and with vigour – or I might have heard the rider calling me.

Indeed, I did not hear him until he was all but on top of me. 'Bedwyr! Hail, Bedwyr! Wait!'

I turned to see one of the younger warriors galloping towards me. I greeted him as he reined up and fell in beside me. 'Greetings, Drusus, what do you here?'

'Lord Cai has sent me to bring you. Arthur has returned and would have you with him. We are riding out in three days' time.'

'Riding where?' I knew nothing of any trouble anywhere. 'I cannot say; Cai did not tell me. Will you come?' 'I will see these horses settled first. Rest yourself while you wait, and we will return together.'

I continued on down the valley and gave the mares over to the care of a herdsman. I gathered my cloak and weapons from the hut, and rode back to the caer at once. All the while, I bethought me what could be happening. I could get nothing more from Drusus, so contented myself with flying over the windswept hills as fast as my horse could run. God's truth, I would have made all speed anyway, I was that anxious to see Arthur.

He was standing in the centre of a tumult of urgent bustle, talking to Cai, when I rode in. I threw myself from the saddle, and ran to meet Arthur. 'Jesu be praised! The wanderer has returned!' I cried.

'Hail, Bedwyr!' he called, a great grin appearing instantly on his face. 'Have we a herd?'

'We have a herd. Fifteen foals already, and twenty more perhaps before the season is done. It is blood and breath to see you, Artos.'

I stepped close and we gripped one another by the arms like brothers, and he wrapped me in his rib-cracking bear hug. 'You have weathered well, I see.' He thumped me soundly on the back. 'Was the winter to your liking?' 'A little long,' I admitted, 'but not too cold.' 'Cai has told me you drove Rhys nearly mad with your complaining. He is only a bard, Bedwyr. Would you have him change the weather with a song?'

'A fresh tale to pass the time would suffice. But look at you, Bear – you seem to have fallen in with the Fair Folk.' His smile became mysterious and he drew his sword for me to admire. 'This is Caledvwlch,' he told me. 'It was given me by the Lady of the Lake.'

I had never seen a weapon like it, and told him so. 'A man could win a kingdom with this,' I observed, feeling its quick weight fill my hand. The blade seemed instantly a part of me, more a bright extension of my arm than a measured length of cold steel.

'Well said,' Arthur replied, 'and that kingdom has a name.'

That is all he said, and he would speak no more about it then. 'Come to me in my chambers. I will summon Myrddin.' He walked away across the yard.

I glanced at Cai, who shrugged, as puzzled by the change in Arthur as I was myself. For our friend had changed.

Or perhaps, because of bis long absence, I was only seeing a different side to Arthur from any I had seen before. But no, we were brothers! I knew him well enough to know that something had happened to him at Ynys Avallach. I determined to find out from Myrddin.

'I hear we are to ride in three days,' I said, as Cai and I moved off towards the hall. 'Any idea where we are going?'

To the Saecsen Shore.'

I stopped walking and turned him round by the arm. 'Is this one of your tasteless jests?'

'It is no jest.' For once the green eyes in his ruddy face were serious. 'That is what he told me – although he said no more than that. And now you know as much about it as I do.'

'Did you notice how he grinned at me?' I said, as we continued to the hall. 'I have seen a smile like that only twice in my life till now: the first time was on the face of a slow-witted youth who stole a pig from my father's sty and was caught trying to sell it in the market, and the second was when old Gerontius died at his prayers.'

Cai laughed out loud. 'I do not think Arthur has been stealing pigs, but that is always a possibility.'

'It is the truth I am telling, Caius; I do not like this. Mark me well, nothing good will come of this.'

'Come of what?'

This… this! You know what I mean.'

He laughed again and slapped me on the back. 'You think too much, Bedwyr. You should have been a druid. Let be; all will be well.'

We walked through the hall to Arthur's chamber at the far end and waited. Presently, Pelleas entered and greeted us warmly – after his peculiar fashion.

The Fair Folk always astonish me. They are not like us in the least. They are a lofty race, for ever holding themselves apart from the life around them. Wondrous fair to look upon, they are nonetheless shy, and by nature do not display their emotions. I think it is pride.

Myrddin is less like this. But then, he is only half Fair Folk… although, what the other half is no one knows.

'Any news from Ynys Avallach, Pelleas?' I asked. I had never been to the Fisher King's palace, but I had heard Myrddin talk about it often enough to know the place.

'We passed a most agreeable winter, Prince Bedwyr,' he replied. This was meant, I suppose, to be a most detailed account of their activities. I had known Pelleas since I was a twig, and this was how he talked to me.

'Is it true that it never snows on the Glass Isle?' Cai put the question to him seriously, but I saw the edges of his mouth twitch in mirth.

'Of course it snows, you young genius!' The voice was that of the Emrys, who entered at that moment with Arthur behind him. 'Greetings, Cai and Bedwyr.'

'Myrddin!' I turned and was swept into his embrace.

'Winter starved and spring hungry, eh?' he said, gripping my arms and peering into my eyes as if searching my soul for the answer. He always did that. Some people find it most unnerving, I am told.