Aelle and his carles came to our camp at dawn the next morning, and we departed, moving south along the Ouse. We travelled slowly because the Saecsens walked. They do not like horses and fear them. This made the journey tedious to begin with, and it was made more so by Arthur's decision to stay well away from Londinium.

But the weather cleared and held good for the while. As before, we camped at the ford of a river – the Stur, this time – and waited for Octa to come to us, which he did in exactly the same way as Aelle had done.

Octa came with Colgrim, his kinsman, and we met them at the ford – Aelle with us. This caused some distress on the far side of the Stur where Octa and Colgrim stood with their massed warbands. I could see them working on it: what did it mean? Had Aelle joined the enemy? Had they conquered him? But where was the British host?

Arthur let them take it in and then, as before, rode to the centre of the river and called to them. 'Octa! Colgrim! I want to speak to you!'

Colgrim conferred with Octa, who answered, 'Why have you come to us like this?' His eyes never left Aelle, who stood with his weapons at his side.

'I have come to make peace with you.'

Colgrim and Octa exchanged a puzzled glance. Again, it was Octa who answered, pointing to Aelle, 'Let Aelle go, and we will talk with you.'

'Aelle is free to come and go as he will.' Arthur lifted a hand to the Saecsen leader, who strode forth across the water to join his kinsmen on the other side. The three stood together, talking for a moment – with much gesturing and pointing in our direction.

Then Aelle turned and beckoned us to come forward. Arthur dismounted as soon as he set foot on the opposite shore, throwing his reins to Cai. The Saecsens regarded him with keen suspicion – as if this impressive show might somehow suddenly turn into a fatal ambush. Yet the sight of a British battlechief striding purposefully towards them, alone and unarmed, intrigued them. What was this madman doing?

'I am Arthur,' he told them – just as he had told Aelle. 'I am War Leader of Britain, and I have come to offer peace to you and your people.'

Colgrim and Octa stared at him, and then at Aelle. They muttered something to Aelle in the Saecsen tongue. Aelle answered them and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, smiling.

Then, before any of us could think or move, Aelle's hand darted to his belt and a knife Sashed out. Instantly, the knife was at Arthur's throat.

A trap! Arthur was helpless. Colgrim's hand went to the knife in his belt. Octa hefted up his axe and made to signal the war host.

But before Octa could cry out – indeed, before Cai or I could lift our hands to lash our horses forward to Arthur's defence – Aelle took the knife and, turning it in his hand, placed the handle in Arthur's hand. Then he raised the knife which Arthur now held and placed the blade over his own heart.

Naked amazement distorted the faces of the Saecsens. Colgrim and Octa stared as if they had just witnessed a miracle of the highest order. Perhaps they had.

Then, next thing I knew, the Saecsens were all chattering together at once and they were touching Arthur and pounding him on the back. Apparently, Aelle had accomplished more in that simple act – harrowing though it was – than whole days of coaxing and convincing could have achieved.

'I thought we were orphans,' I muttered to Cai, wiping my brow. Cai only grunted and rolled his eyes.

We did sit down and talk to them then. As before, Colgrim and Octa accepted the peace which Arthur offered and then called for food and drink to be brought, whereupon we ate and drank with them – which is how the Saecsen kind like to show peaceful intentions.

When we had done this, Colgrim rose up and declared – mostly through Octa, who showed some small skill with our tongue – that he would feast the British in honour of the new peace treaty. I could imagine nothing I would enjoy less. Feast with a Saecsen! It could not be done.

Nevertheless, we did it. Arthur insisted, and Myrddin agreed. 'We must honour the good that they intend,' Myrddin said. 'Sitting next to a Saecsen at the board will not harm you overmuch.'

'All the same,' grumbled Cai ominously, 'I am bringing my sword.'

Arthur allowed us our knives, but no swords, lances, or shields. 'It would not look right,' he said.

Well, I will say that it was not as bad as I feared… It was a good deal worse.

Think of it! For a start, the Saecsen idea of a feast is simply to heap mounds of badly-cooked meat onto the board and gorge on it until sated, whereupon you are supposed to drink whole butts of their sour beer. And, when everyone is falling-down drunk, they begin wrestling with one another. The two biggest among them pair off and all the others gather round and begin shouting at them, urging them on. The point of it seems to be for one to maim the other for life. They grunt and sweat and yell – all for the privilege of throwing one another into the fire.

When this display palls, they all fall exhausted onto the ground and one of their bards – or scops, as they are called – comes and begins raising the most horrible din. The Saecsen beat their fists on the ground in ecstasy over their scop's small accomplishments. The howling which greets his every word is enough to deafen a stump.

In short, a Saecsen feast is ghastly beyond belief. But they are barbarians, after all.

I thought that we would return to Caer Melyn. Having achieved a summer's respite from Saecsen raiding – which is how long I reckoned Arthur's peace would last – I expected Arthur to inform the small kings and await their replies. God's truth, I thought all hell would be loosed upon our heads when the British lords found out what Arthur had done.

Make peace with the Saecsens? The reason he had been made War Duke was so that he could rid us of them. And what does he do? He embraces them at first opportunity and gives them the land they stole from us.

So I thought we would go back to Caer Melyn to await the breaking of the storm. But I was wrong. We rode instead for Londinium and boarded a ship bound north for the Orcades. That is, Arthur, Myrddin and I. Pelleas and Cai took the warband back to Caer Melyn to await Bors' return.

Since we had days aboard ship, and little else to do, I managed to get out of Arthur exactly what he thought he was doing offering peace to Britain's enemies.

'We have been at war with the Saecsen, Pict, Scot and Irish for three hundred years and more. Think of it, Bedwyr! There has never been a generation to know peace on this island,' Arthur said, as we stood on deck watching the coastline rise and fall with the waves.

'There has never been a generation to know peace anywhere on this earth, God love you!'

"That may be true,' he allowed, 'but that does not mean it is not possible. I believe it can happen. But someone has to make a start.'

'You have made a start, Bear. But do not expect the small kings to shower gifts of gold upon your head. Gifts of steel, perhaps.'

"The killing must stop. If I must endure the hurt, so be it. I will endure it gladly, and more besides – but the fighting must end.' He smiled thoughtfully. 'It is no less than Our Lord the Christ did for men.'

I shook my head and looked out across the grey-waved sea, listening to the keen of the gulls following our wake. What Arthur said made a certain sense. But I knew Arthur – knew him, Blessed Saviour! – and I could not believe he was so innocent, so guileless and trusting about this.

'Do you not believe me?' asked Arthur, after a moment. I took my time answering. 'I believe you, Bear. And I pray God you are right, I swear it. But this is not like you.' I turned to find his clear blue eyes gazing at me, mirth drawing up the corners of his mouth. 'You think this is funny? I do not. I tell you it chills me to the marrow.