'My father kept the game runs for King Cadwallo,' he answered. 'I have ridden with him since I was old enough to sit a horse.'

'Well, lad, he taught you well.' Tucking the burned scrap of cloak under my belt, I said, 'I think it best we follow the trail we are given. Lead on.'

Thus we continued on our way, pursuing our new course south and east, slowly passing beyond the lands of the Summer Realm. I took care to mark our progress, for we were moving into territory strange to me. Trusting Peredur to keep the trail, I occupied myself with watching the rocks and hills round about, keeping an eye for any sign that we might be watched. Save the occasional lonely crow, I saw no living thing.

Even so, the further we journeyed into that queer land, the more certain I grew that we were being watched. I have ridden into battle often enough to know when an enemy is lurking near, hiding and awaiting the chance to attack an unwary warrior. That was the feeling that overtook me in this place. Once, as we descended a steep defile between two overhanging bluffs, the skin prickled on my back as if danger stalked us from behind. Spear in hand, I wheeled my horse to see… the empty path, and nothing more.

This occurred three times before the sun reached midday, and each time it took me by surprise. Though it does me no credit to confess it, the last instance so unnerved me that I called Peredur to halt at the next opportunity, thinking to water the horses and collect myself somewhat. This he did soon after, for directly we came upon a tidal estuary and climbed down from the horses. The bank, such as it was, consisted of loose slaty shingle and wrack cast up by the tide. As ill luck would have it, the tide was out, leaving an expanse of mud wide as a battleground with only a thin rivulet of rank green water oozing down through the centre.

Loath to let the horses drink this foul brack, we looked up and down either side to see if we might yet come to some better place, but were frustrated in the attempt. The estuary stretched far inland and maintained its breadth beyond sight.

'This is an unhappy place, God knows,' remarked Tallaght, scanning the mud before us.

'It will not grow more agreeable for standing here,' I replied. Seeing nothing for it but to strike on and make for the other side, I swung up into the saddle once more. 'The sooner we put the place behind us, the better I will feel.'

Peredur, who had ridden a few hundred paces upriver to the first of a series of low bluffs rising from the bank, returned to say, 'The trail ends just here. There is no better fording that I can see. They must have gone across at high tide, or we would see the prints.'

'Then we have no choice.' So saying, I lifted the reins and struck off across the muddy broad.

It was vile stuff: thick black sticky muck with a stink that turned the stomach. The rancid slime sucked at the steed's hooves and released a stench which assaulted the nose and watered the eyes. I pressed on regardless, anxious to get across as quickly as possible. That was my mistake.

For, having almost reached the slow-trickling flow in the middle of the mudflat, I realized that my proud mount was sinking deeper into the mire with every step. Halting, I turned in the saddle to warn the two behind me. 'Come no further,' I called. 'We must go around another way.'

With that I lifted the reins and made to turn the grey. Peredur's shout stopped me. 'Stay, lord!' he cried tersely. 'Do not move!'

Glancing swiftly behind me and all around, I saw nothing to alarm me and was about to say as much when Tallaght joined in the warning. 'Lord Gwalchavad,' he called, his voice tense. 'Look around you!' He thrust out his hand and pointed to the mud.

Look I did, but saw only the scum of the fetid mire glimmering under a baleful sun. And then, even as I watched, the whole dully glistening surface began to shiver and then to tremble. I stared in disbelief as the muddy flats quaked with sudden, sluggish life, and the horror of my predicament came clear. The inrushing tide was flowing once more, and the whole unstable mass was quivering and heaving in the slow-rippling waves of quicksand.

'Go back!' I shouted. 'Save yourselves!'

Both warriors turned their mounts and began struggling back towards the bank. I made to follow them, but the grey had sunk still lower and could not lift her legs.

Pulling hard on the reins, I succeeded in making the horse rear onto its hind legs, whereupon I swung the frightened animal's head and completed the turn. The grey succeeded but two further steps before sinking to the hocks once more.

Desperate to save my panicky mount, I threw myself from the saddle and instantly sank to my knees in the vile bog. The mud shuddered and heaved around me as the unseen waves lent it eerie life, but I gritted my teeth and tightened the reins around my hand, and then, with an effort, raised my foot from the mire and lumbered ahead one step.

Half turning, I coaxed my mount forward, speaking in a soft, soothing tone. Eyes wide and rolling with terror as the killing mud sucked at her hooves, the grey struggled gamely forward, rearing up and plunging, but succeeding only in sinking us both more deeply. I made to wade forward and felt my insubstantial footing give way. I now stood hip-deep in the muck, and could feel cold water seeping through the ooze and up around my legs.

Tallaght and Peredur, having reached the bank, secured their mounts, threw off their cloaks, and hastened back to help me. I saw them floundering over the mud and tried to warn them away, but they came on regardless.

Throw me the reins!' shouted Tallaght. Having come as near as he dared, he lay himself upon the mud and stretched out his hand. 'Let me take her,' he called. As I could do nothing more for the beast, I threw the reins to the young warrior and concerned myself with my own fate instead.

For his part, Peredur, holding his spear above his head, waded out to me. Stretching himself flat upon the mud, he extended the butt of the spear. I leaned towards him; cold water gushed up around my thighs and I promptly sank to my waist.

Peredur wormed closer. 'Take hold!' he cried.

Seeing the spear within reach, I raised my right leg and brought it down smartly so as to jump up. I did not so much leap as lurch, flinging my body forward in a sorry imitation of cuChullain's salmon leap. Though laughably awkward, the manoeuvre gained me a hairsbreadth of distance. I felt my fingers close on the butt of Peredur's spear, and I grabbed hold with a grip that Death himself could not shake loose.

The young warrior, by the strength of his arms alone, pulled me nearer. I slithered from the wallow and came free with a squelchy sucking sound, but there I stopped, and Peredur could not draw me further without hauling himself in as well. I tried snaking my way to him, but even the slightest movement sent the bog quivering. I lay still and began sinking once more. 'We need a rope,' Peredur called.

Alas, we had no rope, and well I knew it.

'A moment, lord.' Peredur wormed his way to dry land, where he ran to his horse and stripped off the tack. Drawing his knife, he cut the reins from the bit and tied them together, then came to the edge of the mudflat and threw the end of the leather strap to me. It fell just out of reach, so he quickly pulled it in, took two steps nearer, leaned out, and threw it again. The second throw went wide, as did the third, but I snagged the line on the fourth try and wound it around my wrist.

'Haul away!' I called, and Peredur, holding tight with both hands, edged slowly back and back. At first I feared the strap would break, but it was good leather, and though it stretched taut as a harp string, it did not break. One step… and another… and then he reached the bank, gained his feet, and pulled hard until I was sliding smoothly over the morass.