“It would have served no purpose. You could not have returned any sooner for knowing that he lay sick. As it was, you journeyed with a quiet mind, and at Caerleon, when he died, I told you.”

“By the gods, Merlin, it was not for you to judge whether to speak or not! You are not King. You should have told me.”

“You were not King either, Uther Pendragon. I did as he bade me.”

I saw him make a quick movement, then he stilled himself. “That is easy to say.” But from his voice I knew that he believed me, and was in awe of me and of the place. “And now that we are here, and waiting for the dawn, and whatever it is you have to show me, I think one or two things must be made clear between us. You cannot serve me as you served my brother. You must know that. I want none of your prophecies. My brother was wrong when he said that we would work together for Britain. Our stars will not conjoin. I admit I judged you too harshly, there in Brittany and at Killare; for that I am sorry, but now it is too late. We walk different ways.”

“Yes. I know.”

I said it without any particular expression, simply agreeing, and was surprised when he laughed, softly, to himself. A hand, not unfriendly, dropped on my shoulder. “Then we understand one another. I had not thought it would be so easy. If you knew how refreshing that is after the weeks I’ve had of men suing for help, men crawling for mercy, men begging for favours . . . And now the only man in the kingdom with any real claim on me will go his own way, and let me go mine?”

“Of course. Our paths will still cross, but not yet. And then we will deal together, whether we will or no.”

“We shall see. You have power, I admit it, but what use is that to me? I don’t need priests.” His voice was brisk and friendly, as if he were willing away the strangeness of the night. He was rooted to earth, was Uther. Ambrosius would have understood what I was saying, but Uther was back on the human trail like a dog after blood. “It seems you have served me well enough already, at Killare, and here with the Hanging Stones. You deserve something of me, if only for this.”

“Where I can be, I shall be at your service. If you want me, you know where to find me.”

“Not at my court?”

“No, at Maridunum. It’s my home.”

“Ah, yes, the famous cave. You deserve a little more of me than that, I think.”

“There is nothing that I want,” I said.