He shrugged imperceptibly. Go with them. What else can we do? I think they’re our rebels, and if they’re not – well, we could put up a fight, but the outcome is clear.

He looked down and saw Meg was standing close to him.

‘Get out of here,’ he whispered. She ignored him, only shuffled closer to him. Stupid bairn. He tried to kick her but she sidestepped.

Edana took the sack from Red Hair. ‘We’ll go peacefully. But I’ll have your name before I put this on my head.’

‘My name is Drust, and I was shieldman to Owain, King of Narvon. Now get on with you.’

It didn’t take long for them all to be blindfolded in some way, and soon they were being led along the riverbank, with much stumbling, tripping and swearing along the way.

Shieldman of Owain – what’s someone who served Owain doing here? An enemy of Rhin, no doubt, but also a man who must have fought Ardan’s warriors, played a part in the sack of Dun Carreg. He can’t have that many friends in Ardan.

Camlin felt the sun on his back and his throat was dry when hands grabbed him, forcing him to stop. The bag was pulled from his head and he blinked in the fading sunlight.

A slope led down to a lake that spread before him, wide and dark, calm and flat as a mirror, its far banks a shadow on the horizon. Towers and walls protruded from the dark waters of the lake, a labyrinth of criss-crossing stone slick with weed and moss. On the ground before the lake was an encampment, tents and more permanent-looking structures, fire-pits, and people – lots of people. Warriors, but also a mixture of others: women, the elderly, bairns running in groups.

‘Welcome to Dun Crin,’ a voice boomed; a large figure was striding towards them. A warrior, tall and barrel-chested, old but not ancient, lots of grey in a long beard tied with leather that draped down to his belly. ‘What have you brought me, Drust?’ His eyes scanned them all, pausing momentarily upon Camlin.

I know you.

Then the big warrior’s eyes fell on Edana and he froze. His mouth opened and closed. ‘Edana? It cannot be,’ he said, then he dropped to one knee before her.

Edana gasped and she flung her arms around him, smothering his face with kisses.

‘Pendathran,’ she cried, ‘I thought you were dead.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

RAFE