I hesitated. It appeared he had a poor head for wine, and I didn’t want him drunk too soon.

He mistook my hesitation. “Come on, come on, you surely don’t grudge me another jug of wine, eh? It isn’t every day a rich young relative comes back from Cornwall. What took you there, eh? And what have you been doing all this time? Come on, young Myrddin, let’s hear about it, shall we? But first, the wine.”

“Well, of course,” I said, and gave the order to the pot-boy. “But don’t use my name here, if you don’t mind. I’m calling myself Emrys now till I see which way the wind blows.” He accepted this so readily that I realised things were even trickier in Maridunum than I had thought. It seemed it was dangerous to declare oneself at all. Most of the men in the tavern looked Welsh; there were none I recognised, which was hardly surprising, considering the company I had kept five years ago. But there was a group near the door who, from their fair hair and beards, might have been Saxon. I supposed they were Vortigern’s men. We said nothing until the pot-boy had dumped a fresh flask on the table in front of us. My cousin poured it, pushed his plate aside, leaned back and looked at me enquiringly.

“Well, come on, tell me about yourself. What happened that night you left? Who did you go with? You couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen when you went, surely?”

“I fell in with a pair of traders going south,” I told him. “I paid my way with one of the brooches that my gr—that the old King gave me. They took me with them as far as Glastonbury. Then I had a bit of luck—fell in with a merchant who was travelling west into Cornwall with glass goods from the Island, and he took me along.” I looked down as if avoiding his eye, and twisted the cup between my fingers. “He wanted to set up as a gentleman, and thought it would do him credit to have a boy along who could sing and play the harp, and read and write as well.”

“Hm. Very likely.” I had known what he would think of my story, and indeed, his tone held satisfaction, as if his contempt of me had been justified. So much the better. It didn’t matter to me what he thought. “Then?” he asked.

“Oh, I stayed with him for a few months, and he was pretty generous, he and his friends. I even made a fair amount on the side.”

“Harping?” he asked, with a lift of the lip.