Uther was ready for the night, in a long bedgown of dark brown velvet edged with fur. His high chair was drawn to a leaping fire of logs, and on a stool beside the chair stood a pair of goblets and a lidded silver flagon with steam curling gently from the spout. I could smell the spiced wine as soon as I entered the room, and my dry throat contracted longingly, but the King made no move to offer it to me. He was not sitting by the fire. He was prowling restlessly up and down the room like a caged beast, and after him, pace for pace, his wolfhound followed him.

As the door shut behind the servants he said abruptly, as he had said once before:

“You took your time.”

“Four days? You should have sent better horses.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He had not expected to be answered. But he said, mildly enough: “They were the best in my stables.”

“Then you should get winged ones if you want better speed than we made, my lord. And tougher men. We left two of them by the way.”

But he was no longer listening. Back in his thoughts, he resumed his restless pacing, and I watched him. He had lost weight, and moved quickly and lightly, like a starving wolf. His eyes were sunken with lack of sleep, and he had mannerisms I had not seen in him before; he could not keep his hands still. He wrung them together behind him, cracking the finger-joints, or fidgeting with the edges of his robe, or with his beard.

He flung at me over his shoulder: “I want your help.”

“So I understand.”

He turned at that. “You know about it?”

I lifted my shoulders. “Nobody talks of anything else but the King’s desire for Gorlois’ wife. I understand you have made no attempts to hide it. But it is more than a week now since you sent Ulfin to fetch me. In that time, what has happened? Are Gorlois and his wife still here?”

“Of course they are still here. They cannot go without my leave.”

“I see. Has anything yet been said between you and Gorlois?”

“No.”

“But he must know.”

“It is the same with him as with me. If once this thing comes to words, nothing can stop it. And it is the crowning tomorrow. I cannot speak with him.”

“Or with her?”

“No. No. Ah, God, Merlin, I cannot come near her. She is guarded like Danaë.”

I frowned. “He has her guarded, then? Surely that’s unusual enough to be a public admission that there’s something wrong?”

“I only mean that his servants are all round her, and his men. Not only his bodyguard—many of his fighting troops are still here, that were with us in the north. I can only come near her in public, Merlin. They will have told you this.”