‘We’ve seen none so far,’ Arthur said, touching Excalibur’s hilt, ‘at least, not this side of the Severn Sea. And I pray we shall see none all day. Our boat comes at dusk, and then we leave.’ ‘So I shall guard you till dusk,’ Sagramor said, and his men slid from their saddles, took their shields from their backs and planted their spears in the sand. Their horses, sweat-whitened and panting, stood exhausted while Sagramor’s men stretched their tired arms and legs. We were now a warband, almost an army, and our banner was Sagramor’s black flag.

But then, just an hour later, on horses as tired as Sagramor’s, the enemy came to Camlann.

CEINWYN HELPED ME pull on my armour for it was hard to manage the heavy mail shirt with only one hand, and impossible to buckle the bronze greaves that I had taken at Mynydd Baddon and which protected my legs from the spear thrust that comes under the shield rim. Once the greaves and the mail were in place, and once Hywelbane’s belt was buckled around my waist, I let Ceinwyn fasten the shield to my left arm. ‘Tighter,’ I told her, instinctively pressing against my mail coat to feel the small lump where her brooch was attached to my shirt. It was safely there, a talisman that had seen me through countless battles.

‘Maybe they won’t attack,’ she said, tugging the shield straps as tight as they would go.

‘Pray that they don’t,’ I said.

‘Pray to whom?’ she asked with a grim smile.

‘To whichever God you trust the most, my love,’ I said, then kissed her. I pulled on my helmet, and she fastened the strap under my chin. The dent made in the helmet’s crown at Mynydd Baddon had been hammered smooth and a new iron plate riveted to cover the gash. I kissed Ceinwyn again, then closed the cheekpieces. The wind blew the wolftail plume in front of the helmet’s eyes slits, and I flicked my head back to throw the long grey hair aside. I was the very last wolftail. The others had been massacred by Mordred or taken down into Manawydan’s keeping. I was the last, just as I was the last warrior alive to carry Ceinwyn’s star on my shield. I hefted my war spear, its shaft as thick as Ceinwyn’s wrist and its blade a sharpened wedge of Morridig’s finest steel. ‘Caddwg will be here soon,’ I told her, ‘we won’t have long to wait.’

‘Just all day,’ Ceinwyn said, and she glanced up the sea-lake to where Prydwen floated at the edge of the mudbank. Men were hauling her mast upright, but soon the falling tide would strand the boat again and we would have to wait for the waters to rise. But at least the enemy had not bothered Caddwg, and had no reason to do so. To them he was doubtless just another fisherman and no business of theirs. We were their business.