Upon reaching the bank, I scrambled to my feet. With a whoop of delight, Peredur threw down the leather line and ran to me, grinning at his accomplishment. 'Well done, lad!' I said, clapping him heartily on the back. That was quick thinking.'

Tallaght's shout brought us back to the task at hand: 'Help! I am losing her!'

I turned to see that the grey was sunk to her belly in the black ooze, and the young warrior was in over his knees, but still clinging tightly to the reins. Peredur and I ran to his aid. In my haste, I struck a piece of slate and my foot slid out from under me. I fell back, but rose on the instant with an idea.

'Here, now!' I called to Peredur. 'Help me with these!'

So saying, I stooped to gather an armful of the larger slates, choosing the broadest ones I could find. Peredur saw what I was about and leapt to; digging beneath the surface layer, he found several pieces of fair size and carried them to the edge of the quicksand bog.

Placing the first slate atop the morass, he stepped out on it and found that it would support him. 'It will serve!' he shouted, and I began passing him more slates, which he put down a step at a time, forming a stepping-stone path out to where poor Tallaght was now almost sunk to his waist.

'Let go of the horse!' I told him, my heart falling at the thought of abandoning my handsome mount.

'If she goes,' Tallaght answered between clenched teeth, 'we go together.'

'Son, there is no need,' I replied. 'Let her go. Save yourself.'

The unseen waves of the incoming tide set the mud heaving and shuddering around him. Water showed in a queasy ring around the young warrior's waist.

Peredur placed the last slate but a few paces from Tallaght. 'Brother,' he said, stretching forth his arm, 'the tide is flowing. It is take my hand, or sink and drown.'

Realizing the danger at last, Tallaght relented. With a groan he released the reins and threw out his hand. Peredur caught him and pulled him free. Though the stepping-stones were themselves beginning to sink, they yet bore up the two young men, who skittered across and clambered thankfully onto solid ground.

We three stood for a moment, panting with the exertion of our efforts and staring unhappily at the grey tossing her head and whinnying with fright. The two young men suggested throwing down more slates and somehow getting the animal to walk on them. 'Even if the horse was willing,' I replied, 'we could never lift her onto them.' Observing the eerily rippling bog, I added, 'The tide is beating us besides. I am not fool enough to risk all three of us in a hopeless cause. I fear we must let the sea have its way.'

Tallaght stared, and opened his mouth to protest, but Peredur took his arm and silenced him with a conclusive 'Lord Gwalchavad is right.'

Now, I am as steadfast as any man I know, but I could not find it in me to stand and watch that beautiful animal die. 'Come away,' I said to my companions. 'We can do nothing more.'

Tallaght resisted. 'Will you not even end it with a spear?'

Glancing back, I shook my head and turned to leave.

'Lord,' he called, insistent still, 'let me do it if you will not.'

I stopped, and though I had no wish to berate him, I addressed him with my thoughts. 'Lad, a warrior should have a friendly feeling for his mount, and your affection does you credit. But this is a hostile land, and we may well be glad of our spears before another day is run. Even had we weapons to spare, killing a horse with a single thrust from this distance would take a fortunate cast indeed. I own no such skill, and will not see the poor beast suffer any more than need be. In light of these unhappy facts, I think we must leave the thing where it is.' Turning away once more, I said, 'I am heartily sick of this place and wish I had never seen it.'

Peredur snatched up the reins of his mount and fell into step behind me, and after we had walked a few paces, Tallaght also took up his reins and came along. We moved inland, climbing up the low bluffs above the estuary, where I paused briefly to look back at my doomed mount – now plunged to her flanks in the killing bog and screaming terribly. The sound of that wretched creature cut me to the quick. I made a sorrowful farewell and moved on, miserable, wet, and stinking from toe to head. Oh, my heart was low and regretful, but there was nothing for it but to drag ourselves away.

My two companions fell into a fretful silence, from which I tried to raise them, but gave up trying after a while; I felt as bad as they did, and with the day's passing, the foreboding grew more, not less.

I found myself wondering what disaster would befall us next, for although calamity can overtake anyone at any time -especially travellers in the wilds – in my present mind I deemed our misfortune nothing less than an assault by a malevolent power dogging our every step since we had entered this accursed realm. It seemed to me that the rocks and bare hills conspired against us, and even the low, brooding sky wished us ill. I remained firm in this woeful assessment for a considerable time.

As I warmed myself by the campfire later, I consoled myself with the thought that it could have been worse. We might have lost far more than a good horse; and, to be sure, if I had been riding alone, I would have died with my horse. Accordingly, I thanked the Good God for my quick-thinking young friends and took our narrow escape as a warning, vowing to be on better guard from now on.

The search for a suitable fording place took us far out of our way. By the time we accomplished our crossing, twilight had come to that forsaken land – no wholesome twilight, mind, but a murky dusk of rising mist that made the air dank and heavy.

Our clothes were still damp and repugnant to us, but we found no clean water in which to wash and so were forced to wear them whether we would or no. And though we gathered enough twigs and brush to make a fire, the fickle flame did little to dry us. The stench of the mud took away our appetites, so we did not bother trying to cook or eat anything, contenting ourselves with a few mouthfuls from the waterskin Tallaght carried behind his saddle.

Downhearted, dejected, and tired from our ordeal, no one felt like talking, so we rolled ourselves in our cloaks and tried to sleep. Even sleep did not come easily. No sooner had we closed our eyes than the moon rose, bulging full and yellow like a great baleful eye in the heavens. The light it cast seemed filthy, mean, and pestilential – a plague moon, Peredur called it, and we agreed.

Thus we passed a wretched night and rose ill-rested to begin a day which nevertheless held the promise of coming good; after our wasted night we welcomed the clear blue sky and fine bright sun. Both sky and sun swiftly faded, however, to a dull, bleached-bone white which hurt the eyes and brought an ache to the head.

We worked our way back down along the tidal estuary in search of the trail we had followed the previous day, still feeling fairly certain that Llenlleawg, and possibly two others, had passed this way. As I had no horse, we took it in turn to ride and walk, and sometimes Peredur and Tallaght shared a mount. The bank was rough and rocky, and made for slow going – whether on horse or afoot, we could move no faster. And then, when we finally reached the place where we had tried crossing the day before, we could not raise the trail again.

For all Peredur's exemplary skill and keen eye, we found neither track nor trace of whoever it was we had been following. 'The bog took them, I suppose,' suggested Peredur gloomily, 'the same as it took the grey.' Indicating the empty stretch of slowly undulating muck, he said, 'The horse is gone, and the tide is hungry still.'