'I give you good greeting, Aneirin ap Caw. What word would you have of me?' The battlechief fixed me with a bemused and curious gaze.

'I would hear more of this person Morgian,' I said, little knowing what I asked.

Gwalcmai became suspicious. 'What have you to do with her, boy?'

'Nothing at all, my lord. But I am thinking that there is a mystery here, for no one will so much as speak her name aloud.'

'That is not difficult to believe,' replied Gwalcmai. He pulled on his chin and regarded me carefully. Then, turning quickly, he said, 'Come, I will tell you what you want to know. But not within these walls.'

We walked out from the hall to the training yard behind the palace. Gwalcmai remained silent for a while and we walked together, our eyes on our feet.

'May my Lord Jesu forgive me,' he began suddenly. 'Perhaps it is best for these things to remain hidden. It is beyond me to say. God alone knows what is best. But I think that it is time that Morgian's reign was ended, and I am pledged to bring about that end. Or, if I am not to succeed, it is for someone else. That is why I am telling you.' He stopped and gripped my shoulder. 'Do you understand, Aneirin ap Caw?' •

I nodded solemnly. I, too, felt the dread weight of his words falling like lead into the clear pool of my heart. Clearly, this mystery was deeper than I knew.

'Seventeen years ago it began. We had been fighting in the north and returned to Caer Melyn to find that Myrddin was not there. Pelleas rode in search of Myrddin and, when neither one returned, Arthur sent Bedwyr and me to find them.'

He paused and shook his head. 'Pelleas – ah, it is long since his name has passed my lips.'

'Who was he, lord?'

'Pelleas was a matchless warrior; he was a Fan- Folk prince who served the Emrys, and he was also one of Arthur's battlechiefs in those days. That both of them should go missing concerned Arthur in no small way. Bedwyr and I rode after them.' He paused, remembering that time years ago. When he spoke again his voice was heavy with sorrow. 'We found Myrddin sitting on a crag in Llyonesse, blistered and blind, and raving mad – or so I thought.'

'What of Pelleas?'

'There was no sign of him. We bore Myrddin to the Tor at Ynys Avallach, and then I went back to continue the search… I found never a trace of Pelleas.

'Still, I searched. From Llyonesse I travelled to Gorre – that diseased cluster of islands in the south. I found nothing there, but learned of a Fair Folk settlement in Armorica. I sailed to Less Britain and sojourned with Ban. The settlement I sought was near his realm, I was told, but if so it was no longer there. I travelled into Gaul and came into the court of Clovis, where I met Bishop Sepulcius and was baptised a Christian.

'My search has availed me nothing,' Gwalcmai concluded sadly.

'I would not say so,' I told him. 'The Emrys said that you left to find Pelleas and found God instead.'

Gwalcmai laughed. 'Oh, he is wise indeed. Yes, that is what happened in the end, I suppose. That is why I stayed so long with Sepulcius – I felt that my life had purpose when I was with him. And since King Clovis depended on that saintly man, I stayed to help him. The Ffreincs are even more contenuous than the British – believe that, if you will.'

'You have spoken of Pelleas,' I said. 'But what of Morgian?'

'I was coming to that.' Gwalcmai grew sombre once more. 'She is the one who blinded Myrddin and left him to die in Llyonesse.'

'What!'

'It is God's truth I am telling you.'

'But how?' I could not imagine anyone besting the Exalted Emrys, Chief of Bards of the Island of the Mighty.

'She is a Fair Folk enchantress, a Fair Folk witch, most powerful and dire. She is evil itself, and potent as death.' He spoke with such vehemence I turned to him in wonder.

'You know her well?1

'Aye,' he said ruefully, 'I know her well enough to wish that I did not.'

'You said she had come here. We have not heard of it.'

'I said her trail led north,' he corrected. 'I do not think she would come here – at least not yet. I think she is in the north, in Ynysoedd Erch, perhaps.'

'Lot's realm – your father's'

'Perhaps,' he allowed warily. 'But there are other places she would be welcome. Wherever Arthur has an enemy, or someone wishes Myrddin ill – there will she find a friend.'

'She wishes Arthur harm?'

'She wishes all men harm, lad. Never forget it. And never let anyone tell you different. Listen well, I know whereof I speak: Morgian is poison; she is a viper, a demon in human form. And she is bent on destruction.'

We walked back to the palace, then. I went about my duties and could not help thinking of all that Gwalcmai had told me. Tune and again I returned to his words, and the sense of evil foreboding grew in me through the day. I sensed doom in the sunbright air of Caer Lial, and I could nowise perform my duties satisfactorily. I had no one else to share my burden with to make it lighter. I laboured on in misery.

Yet we are not made to suffer long. We forget. In a few days the stifling sense of doom and suffocation left me, and I began to think of other things again. The sky did not fall, the earth did not swallow me, the sea did not rise up and whelm over Britain. I lost interest in Morgian and her schemes and turned to other concerns. Foremost among these, the fact that the Emrys chose me to go with him to the shrine.

Arthur wished to hold the first Council of the Round Table – those trusted companions whose names were carved in the walls of the rotunda – and we were to go ahead to make all ready.

The prospect of returning there, just the Emrys and me, filled me with pleasure. Fine as the palace was, I loved the bare rotunda more. Its solitude appealed to me. My spirit was at peace there. Peace, I have learned, is rare in this worlds-realm and highly to be prized.

I know little of what passed at the Council of the Round Table. Those in attendance – Bedwyr and Cai, of course, Bors, Gwalchavad, Cador, Llenlleawg, Idris and the Emrys – were Arthur's truest companions. These were the first. Others would be added in time as good men were drawn to Arthur's court.

Each day for three days the lords held council with the High King. Each night for three nights they supped together and the Emrys sang. One of the songs he sang was The Vision of Taliesin, also called The Song of the Summer Realm.

I count myself for ever blessed to have heard it.

On the third day of the council, Gwalcmai arrived. Whether he had been summoned, or whether he came of his own volition, I still do not know. But he appeared at midday, greeted me, and made his way to the shrine. He knelt at its entrance, prayed, and then was allowed to enter. I picketed his horse with the others and waited to see what would happen.

In a little, he emerged, alone, and walked down the hill. He moved quickly, like a man with an important duty he must discharge. I learned later that Gwalcmai had been invited to become a member of the Round Table and have his name carven with those of the others. But since he had not fought in the wars against the barbarians, he must perform some other deed of great service to God, the Pendragon, and Britain.

This deed was to be of his own choosing. When it was finished, he could return and come before the Pendragon with proof of its completion. Then, if judged by the others as worthy, he would be admitted to their number.

That is why, when he rode away that day, I saw the steely glint of determination in his eye. I think he already knew what he would do to win his place in the Shrine of the Round Table.

On the morning of the council's fourth day, the High King and his companions departed. The Emrys and I stayed at the shrine, however, for the Emrys wanted some time alone to himself.