I had been right in thinking there had been no damage done here. The high walls loomed unbroken and unscarred, and the gates were new and solid, of oak hinged and bolted with iron. They were fast shut. Nor—mercifully—did any welcoming torch burn outside. The narrow street was empty and unlit in the early dusk. At our urgent summons a small square window in the gate opened, and an eye was applied to the grille.

“Travellers from Cornwall,” I said softly. “I must have word with the Lady Niniane.”

“The Lady who?” It was the flat, toneless voice of the deaf. Wondering irritably why a deaf portress should be put at the gate, I raised my voice a little, going closer to the grille.

“The Lady Niniane. I don’t know what she calls herself now, but she was sister of the late King. Is she with you still?”

“Aye, but she’ll see nobody. Is it a letter you have? She can read.”

“No, I must have speech with her. Go and take word to her; tell her it’s—one of her family.”

“Her family?” I thought I saw a flicker of interest in the eyes. “They’re most of them dead and gone. Do you not get news in Cornwall? Her brother the King died in battle last year, and the children have gone to Vortigern. Her own son’s been dead these five years.”

“I knew that. I’m not her brother’s family. And I’m as loyal as she is to the High King. Go and tell her that. And look—take this for your . . . devotions.”

A pouch passed through the grille and was grabbed in a quick monkey-snatch. “I’ll take a message for you. Give me your name. I don’t say she’ll see you, mind, but I’ll take her your name.”

“My name’s Emrys,” I hesitated. “She knew me once. Tell her that. And hurry. We’ll wait here.”

It was barely ten minutes before I heard the steps coming back. For a moment I thought it might be my mother, but it was the same old eyes that peered at me through the grille, the same clawed hand laying hold of the bars. “She’ll see you. Oh no, not now, young master. You can’t come in. Nor she can’t come out yet, not till prayers is over. Then she’ll meet you on the river walk, she says; there’s another gate in the wall there. But not to let anyone see you.”

“Very well. We’ll be careful.”

I could see the whites of the eyes turning, as she tried to see me in the shadows. “Knew you, she did, straight away. Emrys, eh? Well, don’t worry that I’ll say aught. These be troubled times, and the least said the better, no matter what about.”

“What time?”

“An hour after moonrise. You’ll hear the bell.”