I saw at once why they had chosen the place. The deep ditches ringing the mound made the uphill grade perilous, and the stone-scattered slopes made them treacherous for our horses. From the heights the enemy could rush swiftly down upon us as we struggled upward.

Yes, the battle site was wisely chosen. Cerdic had bethought himself well. To know that this treachery was practised upon us by one of our own made the fire leap in my belly. That he had caused the Saecsen to break faith with Arthur was the worse.

'A double fortress,' I said. Arthur and I had ridden ahead to view the enemy encampment. 'There is not another like it in all Britain. If we attack one side, they will come at us from the other. We are forced to divide our forces before the battle begins. What will you do?'

'I will make them yearn for peace. Long will they regret raising war against me.' The hollow cast of his voice sent the chill along my spine; it did not sound like Arthur. But his countenance remained unchanged, his brow lowered, his jaw firm. He jerked the reins back, wheeling his horse. He had made up his mind. 'Come, Bedwyr, we will return to the men.'

'What will you do?'

'You will see!' Arthur called back.

I hastened after him and we returned to the place where the combined warbands of Britain waited in the shelter of the wood below the lake, a short distance north of Baedun Hill.

The lords had gathered to await Arthur's return. The waiting had made them anxious and uneasy. They rushed to us as Arthur dismounted and demanded to know how he would order the battle. 'What do you intend?' they asked. 'Will you attack at once? What did you see? What are we to do?'

But Arthur would make no answer. 'Exalted lords,' he said, 'let tomorrow care for itself. Tonight we sup and sing, and embolden our hearts with high words.'

They did not like this answer, but it was the only one they received. Arthur did not heed their mutterings, but retired to his tent to rest. A little while later, Llenlleawg returned, his horse lathered and exhausted. He went directly to Arthur, and Myrddin joined them. The three remained together for a long time, talking.

Towards dusk, Arthur emerged from his rest. He had bathed, and bound his hair. And he had put on new clothing: red trousers and a mantle of white. Around his waist he wore a wide belt of gilded leather, and a cloak of deepest red across his shoulders. He carried his sword, Caledvwlch, at his side.

The cooking fires burned brightly, near the wagons where the stewards were busily preparing the meal of venison and onions. The air hung heavy and blue with smoke, spreading over the camp like a softly undulating roof. Gone was the usual noise and bustle of camp. Everywhere, men drew together; some talked, others looked to their weapons, still others sang softly – not battle songs, but the gentle home-hallowing melodies of fireside and family. Their thoughts carried back to those whom they might never see again. Every warrior's mortality weighs on him before a battle. It is natural, and necessary in a way.

Arthur walked among the men, speaking to them, encouraging them with good words, calming them, sharing out his spirit as if it were a treasure he might divide among them. To see him was to behold true nobility, and everyone who saw him took courage and their hearts were lifted up.

We ate our simple meal on the shore. The lake stretched out smooth as a mirror, and deep-hued black like iron. The dark wood crowded close, but at the lakeside the light lingered, reflected in the water. When we had eaten, Myrddin came with his harp and we sang with him beneath the stars, and the singing was sweet to hear.

Then arose Arthur and gathered the Cymbrogi before him at the lakeside. 'My countrymen!' he called. 'My kinsmen, listen to me. Tomorrow we will meet the enemy – those who call themselves Woden's Children – and we will fight.

'A thousand years from now the bards will sing of this battle. Our names will echo in the halls of mighty kings, and our deeds will live in the hearts of men yet to be born. So I ask you, my brothers, how will you be remembered?'

Men turned puzzled faces to one another.

Arthur began striding along the shore. The wavelets, all silver-flecked in the starlight, lapped quietly at his feet. 'As much as any warrior among you, I thirst for glory. But what glory? I ask you to consider now.'

A hushed murmur worked through the gathered ranks. We have never heard Duke Arthur speak like this to us, they said. What is the Bear of Britain saying?

'Yet a thousand years is a long time,' Arthur continued. 'A long time and much may be forgotten: who won the battle or how it was lost, the field where we fought and those who fought against us. All that will remain – if anything at all remains – is what manner of men we were.'

At this some of the men smacked their thighs with their open hands in approval. Here surely would come the word of courage and valour, of honour and bravery. But Arthur had something else in mind.

'I ask you to consider now, my brothers, what manner of men are we?' Arthur paused long, letting them work out an answer. Then he stopped pacing and held his arms out wide. 'My kinsmen, my brothers, what manner of men are we?'

'We are Britons!' someone shouted. 'Cymry!' cried another.

'Cymbrogi!' others called. 'Companions of the Heart!'

'Hie! Hie!' came the resounding agreement. 'We are Cymbrogi!'

Arthur held up his hands for silence and, when it was regained, he said, 'Oh, we are Fellow Countrymen, aye. But this is not our country of origin. Our true home is the heavenly realm wherein the Saviour God waits to greet all who own him Lord.

'Listen to me! Tomorrow we join battle with the barbarians. They will call upon their repulsive idol, Woden. But I ask you now, my brothers, who will you call upon?' He lowered his hands to shoulder level and indicated the gathered throng with a wide sweep of his arm. 'Who will hear your cries in the day of strife?

'Consider wisely now. For I tell you truly, whatever glory we achieve will die with us unless Jesu the Christ goes before us. But if we are called by his holy name, his glory will cover us like a mantle of gold – and though we die our deeds will be remembered for a thousand years, and a thousand thousand after that.'

Llenlleawg stepped close, bearing the Duke's shield. Arthur took it, turned it towards us and held it up above his head. Upon the new white washed surface had been painted a great red cross, the symbol of the Christ. 'From this day, I wear the cross of Jesu. By this, he goes before me into battle. If the High King of Heaven fights for us, who can prevail against us?'

The Cymbrogi were silent. Behind them stood throngs of others who had heard Arthur's voice and, drawn to it as to a beacon fire, had pressed closer to hear what he said.

Arthur planted the shield before him on the shore. He lifted a hand heavenward, pointing over their heads into the twilit sky where new-kindled stars burned. 'Look! The feet of the Holy One are already on the path. He will lead us if we follow him. I ask you, my brothers, who will follow?'

Up they rose, as one man. The Cymbrogi surged forward and by press of numbers forced Arthur into the lake. He stood in water up to his knees, but heeded it not. 'Kneel Cymbrogi, and swear everlasting allegiance to the High King of Heaven, who has promised to save all who own him lord! He will be your strong arm and your wise counsellor; he will be a shield to cover you, and a sword to defend you!'

They knelt by the hundreds, there in the shallow water. Some of the priests from Mailros who were with us – they had taken refuge with Ector when the barbarians arrived – began moving among them, cupping water in their hands and baptizing the new believers into the Fellowship of Faith. I looked on in awe, my heart beating in my throat, for Arthur's words had wakened in me the thirst for the divine glory he described.