The Duke glared at us, but said nothing.

'Please, do as your Wise Counsellor suggests and think about it, at least,' I told him, 'before you do something we will all regret.'

Myrddin and I left him there alone. 'Will he heed us, do you think?' I asked.

The truth? No, I do not expect that he will,' the Emrys said. Something in his voice made me wonder: sadness? despair? What did he foresee from this? Why would he not speak it out?

Well, he is like that. I do not presume to reckon his ways.

Arthur did not back down, and he did not decline Fergus mac Guillomar's tribute, though it would have saved him much pain, and not a little peace of mind to do so. But then, in so doing he would not be Arthur.

Fergus also brought another gift – no less valuable in its own way: news, which he shared with us over meat that night.

The Picti, he said, were massing in the northern wastes and appeared likely to strike southward before the summer was out. Ships had been seen slinking along the western coast and darting among the western islands. 'They seek blood vengeance for the defeat you gave them in Celyddon,' Fergus suggested. 'I would not be surprised if the Angli joined them in this. They will have nursed their defeat into hatred through the winter.'

'Have you word that the Angli will attack?' asked Arthur.

Fergus wagged his head from side to side. 'I do not. Neither do I have word that day will dawn in the east, yet I think it unwise to assume differently.'

Arthur thanked Fergus for these tidings, and nothing more was said at the time. But three days later, as the Irish made ready to leave, Arthur called Gwalchavad to him. 'Ready the remaining ships, we are sailing north with the tide.'

This he did as Cai and Bors assembled the warband. Myrddin and I held council with the Duke in his chambers. 'Wait at least until the kings can attend you,' I said. 'We should not be seen rushing into an ambush.'

'You doubt Fergus?'

'I do not doubt Fergus, but neither do I trust the Picti. We must strike quickly, I agree – but we must strike with force.'

'Every day we delay the enemy grows more daring. We will guard the coasts and harry them until the other kings join us.'

Myrddin leaned forward on his staff. 'It is not too late, Arthur. Send the woman and her protector back with Fergus. I will do it, if you like. Fergus will have no cause for offence.'

The Duke replied softly. 'I have given my word. I will not take it back.' That was the end of it certainly. But Myrddin was not finished.

'If you are determined, Arthur, let the lady and her treasure be escorted to Ynys Avallach. She will be safe there, and out of the way. My mother will welcome the company – perhaps she may even educate this fiery maid to some British manners.'

Arthur happily accepted this suggestion. 'So be it, Myrddin. I bow to your counsel.'

I was less than pleased, for in the same breath Arthur turned to me and said, 'You will take Gwenhwyvar to the Glass Isle, Bedwyr.'

'Me? Arthur, be reasonable! It is no fit task for a battlechief. You will need me with you. Let someone else go. Send Cai or, better yet, send Bors – he deems himself a hero with women. Any of your warriors will serve as well.'

Arthur clapped a big paw onto my shoulder. 'It must be you, my brother. I will not insult Fergus or his daughter by sending less of a man than my own champion.'

'It seems to me you put too much faith in that Irish rogue,' I grumbled. 'You worry more about imagined offence to your enemies than genuine insults to your friends.'

Sooner pour out your heart to a stone; I grumbled to no avail. Arthur's mind was made up and he would not be moved. I had no choice but to strike off at once for Ynys Avallach.

If I was unhappy with the arrangement, Gwenhwyvar was furious. She saw the preparations for battle and fully expected to fight. To be indifferently hauled away like a sack of grain kindled her wrath full well. I have never seen a woman so angry.

Her eyes blazed and her cheeks and throat blushed crimson. One look at the horse standing saddled before her and she dug in her heels. Her fingers became claws and her tongue a sharp and skilful lash with which she flayed the ears of those around her – Arthur especially, I think, as his name bubbled to the surface regularly. Unfortunately, much of her complaint was in the Irish tongue so I did not understand the finer shadings, but the general flow was manifestly clear.

I lightly touched her arm to move her towards the horse, and almost lost my hand. Her knife was out and in her hand quicker than a flick. She turned on me, livid and spitting. The dagger would have found its home in my heart if Llenlleawg had not put himself between Gwenhwyvar and me at that moment.

He spoke a sharp word or two and she subsided. The dagger slipped back to its sheath. Without another glance the queen swung herself into the saddle and jerked the reins smartly.

The Irishman turned to me. 'It was not seemly… I am sorry.'

His apology took me aback. 'It does not matter. But I want no further trouble.'

'I am your servant, Lord Bedwyr.'

'You know me?'

'Who has not heard of Bedwyr, Bright Avenger, Swift Sword of Arthur?' Llenlleawg moved away at once and mounted his horse. I stood looking after the tall young Irishman and wondering how far I could trust him. They are known to be a deceitful and wicked race, and the truth is not in them. Still, I wondered.

We left Caer Melyn at once. I wanted to deliver the hostages to Ynys Avallach and return as quickly as possible, so that I could join Arthur in the north. Therefore I took only three others with me and we hurried down to the shipyard at Abertaff, where we boarded one of the smaller ships to cross Mor Hafren.

Once aboard ship, Gwenhwyvar went to the prow and stood there, rigid, arms folded across her breast, face set, eyes staring straight ahead. If she had been carved of solid stone she could not have been more adamant and unyielding.

I took Barinthus, Arthur's foremost pilot, because after leaving Ynys Avallach I wanted a swift journey north. Barinthus steered a close course and landed us well up the Briw river, not far from the Glass Isle. We camped on the riverbank that night, and rode on to the Tor the next day. Gwenhwyvar maintained an active and hostile silence all the while.

'You are welcome here,' said Charis graciously. 'May the peace of Christ be with you.' Swathed in deepest green, with a flowing mantle of shimmering gold, she seemed a queen of the Otherworld to my eyes. She greeted each one of us with a kiss, drawing us into the glimmering hall. At once I felt the gentling spirit of the place grace my soul.

Gwenhwyvar, too, was cowed by Charis' kindness and elegance. I prayed the Irish maid would remain so, and trusted that she would, for the Tor had already begun to work its mysterious enchantment upon us all.

Much as I would have enjoyed sojourning in Avallach's palace, Barinthus was waiting with the ship to take me back. So I left the hostages in the care of King Avallach and the Lady of the Lake and returned with the escort to the ship at dawn the next morning.

Upon reaching the ship, I hailed the pilot, and the men settled the horses aboard. But, as Barinthus made to cast off, he stood suddenly and pointed at the track behind me. I swung round and saw Llenlleawg riding to join us.

'You are to remain at Ynys Avallach!' I shouted as he came near, running forward as if to bar his way further.

He gazed placidly down at me from the saddle. 'I am the queen's champion. She has commanded me to attend the Duke.'

'And I have commanded you to stay!'

He shrugged and climbed down from his horse. 'It is my life to obey the queen,' he replied easily and, stepping round me, proceeded to take his horse onto the ship.