When he came back with the food I knew from his look that he had heard it all. The whole palace must be buzzing. But he said nothing, just handing me the food and sitting down beside me on the straw.

“They told you?” I asked.

He nodded, chewing, then added through a mouthful of bread and meat: “He has a heavy hand.”

“He was angry because she refused to wed Gorlan. He wants her wed because of me, but till now she has refused to wed any man. And now, since my uncle Dyved is dead, and Camlach is the only one left, they asked Gorlan from Less Britain. I think my uncle Camlach persuaded my grandfather to ask him, because he is afraid that if she marries a prince in Wales—”

He interrupted at that, looking both startled and scared. “Whist ye now, child! How do you know all this? I’ll be bound your elders don’t tattle of these high matters in front of you? If it’s Moravik who talks when she shouldn’t—”

“No. Not Moravik. But I know it’s true.”

“How in the Thunderer’s name do you know any such thing? Slaves’ gossip?”

I fed the last bite of my bread to the mare. “If you swear by heathen gods, Cerdic, it’s you who’ll be in trouble, with Moravik.”

“Oh, aye. That kind of trouble’s easy enough to come by. Come on, who’s been talking to you?”

“Nobody. I know, that’s all. I—I can’t explain how . . . And when she refused Gorlan my uncle Camlach was as angry as my grandfather. He’s afraid my father will come back and marry her, and drive him out. He doesn’t admit this to my grandfather, of course.”

“Of course.” He was staring, even forgetting to chew, so that saliva dribbled from the corner of his open mouth. He swallowed hastily. “The gods know—God knows where you got all this, but it could be true. Well, go on.”

The brown mare was pushing at me, snuffing sweet breath at my neck. I handed her away. “That’s all. Gorlan is angry, but they’ll give him something. And my mother will go in the end to St. Peter’s. You’ll see.”

There was a short silence. Cerdic swallowed his meat and threw the bone out of he door, where a couple of the stableyard curs pounced on it and raced off in a snarling wrangle.

“Merlin—”

“Yes?”

“You’d be wise if you said no more of this to anyone. Not to anyone. Do you understand?”

I said nothing.

“These are matters that a child doesn’t understand. High matters. Oh, some of it’s common talk, I grant you, but this about Prince Camlach—” He dropped a hand to my knee, and gripped and shook it. “I tell you, he’s dangerous, that one. Leave it be, and stay out of sight. I’ll tell no one, trust me for that. But you, you must say no more. Bad enough if you were rightwise a prince born, or even in the King’s favour like that red whelp Dinias, but for you . . .” He shook the knee again. “Do you heed me, Merlin? For your skin’s sake, keep silent and stay out of their way. And tell me who told you all this.”