“I do know. In any case, if they meant us harm, we’d have known of it by now. They’ve heard us coming long since, and they must know it’s only two horses and one of them lame.”

But he still hesitated, fingering his short sword. The prickles of excitement fretted my skin like burrs. I had seen where the mare’s ears were pointing—at a big grove of pines, fifty paces ahead, and set back above the right of the path. They were black even against the blackness of the forest. Suddenly I could wait no longer. I said impatiently: “I’m going, anyway. You can follow or not, as you choose.” I jerked Rufa’s head up and away from him, and kicked her with my good foot, so that she plunged forward past the grey pony. I headed her straight up the bank and into the grove.

The horses were there. Through a gap in the thick roof of pines a cluster of stars burned, showing them clearly. There were only two, standing motionless, with their heads held low and their nostrils muffled against the breast of a slight figure heavily cloaked and hooded against the cold. The hood fell back as he turned to stare; the oval of his face showed pale in the gloom. There was no one else there.

For one startled moment I thought that the black horse nearest me was Ambrosius’ big stallion, then as it pulled its head free of the cloak I saw the white blaze on its forehead, and knew in a flash like a falling star why I had been led here.

Behind me, with a scramble and a startled curse, Cadal pulled Aster into the grove. I saw the grey gleam of his sword as he lifted it. “Who’s that?”

I said quietly, without turning: “Put it up. It’s Belasius . . . At least that’s his horse. Another with it, and the boy. That’s all.”

He advanced. His sword was already sliding back into its housing. “By the dog, you’re right, I’d know that white flash anywhere. Hey, Ulfin, well met. Where’s your master?”

Even at six paces I heard the boy gasp with relief. “Oh, it’s you, Cadal . . . My Lord Merlin . . . I heard your horse whinny—I wondered—Nobody comes this way.”

I moved the mare forward, and looked down. His face was a pale blur upturned, the eyes enormous. He was still afraid.

“It seems Belasius does,” I said. “Why?”

“He—he tells me nothing, my lord.”

Cadal said roundly: “Don’t give us that. There’s not much you don’t know about him, you’re never more than arm’s length from him, day or night, everybody knows that. Come on, out with it. Where’s your master?”

“I—he won’t be long.”