Entering the shrine quietly, I found him flat on his face before the tiny altar, arms outstretched in the priestly attitude of prayer practised by the brown clerics.

'Lord Emrys?' I said, loath to speak at all – but he was so still I feared him dead.

At the sound of his name, he shifted. 'Gwalchavad,' he said, raising his head. He made to rise, and I helped him to his feet. 'How did you know to find me here?'

'I knew you had to be here,' I replied. He lifted an eyebrow inquiringly, and I added, 'I have searched everywhere else – this was the only place left.'

He smiled at this, and I saw the light in his eyes, sharp and clear, the fire restored and burning bright once more. 'I have been praying,' he said.

'All day?'

He shrugged. 'I did not mark the time.'

'I wish Arthur had been with you – instead of gnawing out his heart in his chamber.' I told him of my conversation with the king the night before.

'Is he there now?' asked Myrddin as we stepped outside.

'I think so. He has shut the door against us and will see no one.'

Myrddin turned his farseeing eyes to the sky. The sun was going down and a chill twilight was swiftly drawing a veil of mist over a dismal day. 'Will you go to him now?' I asked. 'He needs you, Myrddin.'

'I will go to him,' promised the Wise Emrys, starting down the path towards the lake. 'But not yet.'

'He needs you now,' I insisted, darting after him.

'Let him imbibe his despair,' Myrddin said. 'Truly, until he has drained that cup to the dregs, he will not hear a word I say.'

'How long must we wait?'

'God alone knows.' I frowned at this answer and he saw it. 'Concern for the king is not what sent you looking for me, Lr think.'

'No,' I confessed, 'though that is reason enough. It is Morgaws.'

'Yes?' He stopped abruptly and turned to me. 'Have you remembered something?'

The question caught me unawares. 'Remembered? What do you mean?' The Emrys made a sound of mild disgust in his throat and started walking again, and I chased after him. 'I was thinking who she might be,' I said quickly. 'I know she is not Morgian.'

'Why do you say that?'

'No matter what guise Morgian took, I would always know her,' I answered confidently.

'So would I,' Myrddin declared.

'Besides,' I continued, 'she appeared to me.'

Myrddin stopped walking again and I almost collided with him. 'Morgian appeared to you?' His eyes were daggers keen and bright, and levelled at me. 'When?'

'Not long ago,' I said, more hesitant now.

Myrddin seized my arm and squeezed it hard. 'Why have you waited until now?' he demanded angrily, releasing my arm and pushing it away.

'She came to me in a dream,' I explained quickly. 'At least I thought it was only a dream.'

‘Fool!' cried Myrddin. 'Only a dream, he says! You should have told me.'

'I am sorry, Emrys. Believe me, I never meant to keep anything from you.'

Myrddin stared at me hard, then looked away and began walking again; we had almost reached the lake. We continued on in silence for a time before he spoke again; when he did, he said, 'Morgaws is Morgian's creature – whether daughter or foundling, I cannot say, but she serves her mistress well.'

Though I did not doubt him, I asked, 'Then why did we never suspect her before?'

'It is the simplest of all enchantments,' he replied, and I waited for him to explain, but he merely said, 'We see what we think to see.'

'And Llenlleawg?'

'Again, it is not difficult to bewitch the weak and willing,' he replied.

Something in me bristled at the suggestion that the Irish champion joined in the betrayal voluntarily. 'What of Gwenhwyvar? It seems to me the queen was certainly neither weak nor willing.'

'Who knows what they told her?' Myrddin answered simply. 'Morgian is duplicity itself. Her powers of deception are astonishing.'

'Then you are certain Morgian is involved.'

'If there was any doubt, finding Pelleas' brooch removed it.'

'You are convinced the brooch belonged to Pelleas?'

'How not?' he said. 'I gave it to him.'

Upon our return to the Tor, Myrddin went his way alone. I took myself off to the parapet, where I held vigil deep into the night, thinking about Llenlleawg's betrayal, and why everyone seemed so eager to hold him at fault for all that had happened, when clearly, if Morgian was involved, he was no doubt bewitched, and bent to Morgian's evil purpose. I was still struggling with this when, towards dawn, Myrddin summoned the Dragon Flight to the king's chamber.

I hurried to join my swordbrothers – many of whom, myself included, appeared to have spent another sleepless night wrestling with the guilt and shame of their failure. No one spoke as we made our way along the corridor and to the door of Arthur's chamber. There, waiting in the dimly lit passageway, was Myrddin, carrying his staff, his golden tore gleaming in the torchlight.

'Good,' he said and, pushing open the heavy door, strode boldly in to confront the Pendragon. He advanced to the foot of the throne, raised the oaken staff, and struck it smartly on the stone floor. Crack! 'Rise up, Arthur!' he cried in a loud voice, and struck the floor again.

'The time has come to rouse yourself from your sleep of despair. Wake, and rise!' He raised the staff and struck the floor again. The crack resounded like a peal of thunder as the Wise Emrys said, 'The foe is at the gate, and your queen is taken away. She cries, "Where is my deliverer? I cry out in my cruel captivity. Where is my salvation? When will my king arise?"'

Arthur started. The shock of the bard's words struck him to the core and jolted him from his self-pitying misery. 'Gwenhwyvar!'

Lofting his staff, Myrddin advanced to stand before the throne. The Bard of Britain lifted his voice and kindled the hearts of all who stood mute and dejected in that room.

'Why do you languish here when the Treasure of Britain is despoiled by the enemy? Why do you cover yourself in gloom while your noble wife is ravaged by her captors? Why do you yet delay while wickedness lays waste your realm?'

Arthur's shoulders slumped and his head fell. But Myrddin did not allow despair to reclaim him; he stood before the king, lifting the stricken monarch from the pit with the strength of his words.

'Stiffen your spine, O King! Take up your spear and shield,' he cried. 'Gird yourself for battle, and take your place at the head of the Dragon Flight. The name of the enemy is known: Morgian has returned! The Queen of Air and Darkness is moving against you, and her aim is destruction.'

A murmur, like a tingle of fear, flitted through the gathered ranks of Cymbrogi. 'Morgian…'

Crack! Myrddin struck the floor with his staff. 'Rise up, O Mighty Pendragon! Save your kingdom and your queen. For I tell you the truth: if you sit by and do nothing, you will lose all you hold most dear. And when that is gone, Dread Morgian will take your life as well. Your enemy will not be content until she has destroyed you body and soul.'

I looked to the king and saw the colour flooding back into his ashen features. The Heart of Britain was stirring again.

'Arise, Arthur! Bind steel to your hip and courage to your soul. The time has come to choose: fight or die; there is no middle ground!'

I felt within me the familiar rising to the call as Arthur gripped the arms of his chair and heaved himself to his feet. He yet appeared haggard and ill-disposed, but there was a glimmer of purpose in his eyes.

'Behold!' cried Myrddin Emrys with a flourish of his oaken staff. 'The Chief Dragon arises in his strength. Tremble, all who would oppose virtue and right! Flee to your dens in Hell, you citizens of corruption! Let all who practise evil beware: your days are no more. The High King of Britain has set his face against you and the day of your doom is at hand.'