“Not so that I heard. In fact, he’s been over-cordial there, and he got away with it for the first week or so; the old man was flattered. But, Merlin, it does sound like trouble; she’s less than half Gorlois’ age and spends her life mewed up in one of those cold Cornish castles with nothing to do but weave his war cloaks and dream over them, and you may be sure it’s not of an old man with a grey beard.”

I pushed the platter aside. I remember I still felt wholly unconcerned about what Uther was doing. But Cadal’s last remark came a little too near home for comfort. There had been another girl, once, who had had nothing to do but sit at home and weave and dream . . .

I said abruptly: “All right, Cadal. I’m glad to know. I just hope we can keep clear of it ourselves. I’ve seen Uther mad for a woman before, but they’ve always been women he could get. This is suicide.”

“Crazed, you said. That’s what men are saying, too,” said Cadal slowly. “Bewitched, they call it.” He looked down at me half-sideways. “Maybe that’s why he sent young Ulfin in such a sweat to make sure you’d come to London. Maybe he wants you there, to break the spell?”

“I don’t break,” I said shortly. “I make.”

He stared for a moment, shutting his mouth on what, apparently, he had been about to say. Then he turned away to lift the jug of wine. As he poured it for me, in silence, I saw that his left hand was making the sign. We spoke no more that night.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

AS soon as I came in front of Uther I saw that Cadal had been right. Here was real trouble.

We reached London on the very eve of the crowning. It was late, and the city gates were shut, but it seemed there had been orders about us, for we were hustled through without question, and taken straight up to the castle where the King lay. I was scarcely given time to get out of my mud-stained garments before I was led along to his bedchamber and ushered in. The servants withdrew immediately and left us alone.