‘Argante claims I was writing to Meurig, Lord, but that can’t be true! I have no skill with letters. You know that.’

‘Your clerks do, Bishop.’

Sansum adopted an indignant look. ‘And why should I talk to Meurig?’

‘Because you were plotting to give him the throne, Sansum,’ I said, ‘and don’t deny it. I talked with him two weeks ago.’

‘I was not writing to him,’ he said sulkily.

I believed him, for Sansum had ever been too canny to put his schemes on paper, but I did not doubt he had sent messengers. And one of those messengers, or perhaps a functionary at Meu-rig’s court, had betrayed him to Argante who had doubtless craved Sansum’s hoarded gold. ‘You deserve whatever you’re going to get,’ I told him. ‘You’ve plotted against every king who ever showed you kindness.’

‘AH I ever wanted was the best for my country, and for Christ!’

‘You worm-ridden toad,’ I said, spitting on the floor. ‘You just wanted power.’

He made the sign of the cross and stared at me with loathing. ‘It’s all Fergal’s fault,’ he said.

‘Why blame him?’

‘Because he wants to be treasurer!’

‘You mean he wants to be wealthy like you?’

‘Me?’ Sansum stared with feigned surprise. ‘Me? Wealthy? In the name of God all I ever did was put a pittance aside in case the kingdom was in need! I was prudent, Derfel, prudent.’ He went on justifying himself, and it gradually dawned on me that he believed every word he said. Sansum could betray people, he could scheme to have them killed as he had tried to kill Arthur and me when we had gone to arrest Ligessac, and he could bleed the Treasury dry, yet all the time he somehow persuaded himself that his actions were justified. His only principle was ambition, and it occurred to me, as that miserable day slunk into night, that when the world was bereft of men like Arthur and of Kings like Cuneglas, then creatures like Sansum would rule everywhere. If Taliesin was right then our Gods were vanishing, and with them would go the Druids, and after them the great Kings, and then would come a tribe of mouse lords to rule over us.

The next day brought sunshine and a fitful wind that fetched the stench of the heaped heads to our hut. We were not allowed out of the hut and so were forced to relieve ourselves in a corner. We were not fed, though a bladder of stinking water was throw in to us. The guards were changed, but the new men were as watchful as the old. Amhar came to the hut once, but only to gloat. He drew Hywelbane, kissed her blade, polished her on his cloak, then fingered her newly honed edge. ‘Sharp enough to take your hands off, Derfel,’ he said. ‘I’m sure my brother would like a hand of yours. He could mount it on his helmet! And I could have the other. I need a new crest.’ I said nothing and after a time he became bored with trying to provoke me and walked away, slashing at thistles with Hywelbane.