There was also a fragment of news from Maridunum. The messenger was no spy of Ambrosius; the news we got was, as it were, only the larger rumours. These were bad enough. It seemed that my uncle Camlach, together with all his nobles—my grandfather’s men, the men that I knew—had risen with Vortimer and fought beside him in the four pitched battles against the Saxons. In the second, at Episford, Camlach had been killed, along with Vortimer’s brother Katigern. What concerned me more was that after Vortimer’s death reprisals had been levelled at the men who had fought with him. Vortigern had annexed Camlach’s kingdom to join his own lands of Guent, and, wanting hostages, had repeated his action of twenty-five years earlier; he had taken Camlach’s children, one of them still an infant, and lodged them in the care of Queen Rowena. We had no means of knowing if they were still alive. Nor did we know if Olwen’s son, who had met the same fate, had survived. It seemed unlikely. Of my mother there was no news.

Two days after the news came, the spring gales began, and once more the seas were locked against us and against news. But this hardly mattered; indeed, it worked both ways. If we could get no news from Britain, they could have none of us, and of the final accelerated preparations for the invasion of Western Britain. For it was certain that the time had now come. It was not only a case of marching to the relief of Wales and Cornwall, but if there were to be any men left to rally to the Red Dragon, the Red Dragon would have to fight for his crown this coming year.

“You’ll go back with the first boat,” said Ambrosius to me, but without looking up from the map which was spread on the table in front of him.

I was standing over by the window. Even with the shutters closed and curtains drawn I could hear the wind, and beside me the curtains stirred in the draught. I said: “Yes, sir,” and crossed to the table. Then I saw his finger was pointing on the map. “I’m to go to Maridunum?”

He nodded. “You’ll take the first westbound boat, and make your way home from wherever it docks. You are to go straight up to Galapas and get what news there is from him. I doubt if you would be recognised in the town, but take no risks. Galapas is safe. You can make him your base.”

“There was no word from Cornwall, then?”

“Nothing, except a rumour that Gorlois was with Vortigern.”

“With Vortigern?” I digested this for a moment. “Then he didn’t rise with Vortimer?”

“As far as my information goes, no.”

“He’s trimming, then?”