So we came to Cornwall. The messenger had done his work well, and our ride, in hard short stages of no more than twenty miles apiece, took us two days and a night. We found our troops waiting encamped at the place selected—a few miles in from Hercules Point and just outside the Cornish border—with the news that, however she had managed it, Ygraine was fast in Tintagel with a small body of picked men, while her husband with the rest of his force had descended on Dimilioc, and sent a call round for the men of Cornwall to gather to defend their Duke. He must know of the presence of the King’s troops so near his border, but no doubt he would expect them to wait for the King’s coming, and could have as yet no idea that the King was already there.

We rode secretly into our camp at dusk, and went, not to the King’s quarters, but to those of a captain he could trust. Cadal was there already, having gone ahead to prepare the disguises which I meant us to wear, and to await Ralf’s message from Tintagel when the time was ripe.

My plan was simple enough, with the kind of simplicity that often succeeds, and it was helped by Gorlois’ habit, since his marriage, of riding back nightly where he could—from Dimilioc or his other fortresses—to visit his wife. I suppose there had been too many jests about the old man’s fondness, and he had formed the habit (Ralf had told me) of riding back secretly, using the private gate, a hidden postern to which access was difficult unless one knew the way. My plan was simply to disguise Uther, Ulfin and myself to pass, if we were seen, as Gorlois and his companion and servant, and ride to Tintagel by night. Ralf would arrange to be on duty himself at the postern, and would meet us and lead us up the secret path. Ygraine had by some means persuaded Gorlois—this had been the greatest danger—not to visit her himself that night, and would dismiss all her women but Marcia. Ralf and Cadal had arranged between them what clothes we should wear: the Cornwall party had ridden from London in such a hurry that some of their baggage was left behind, and it had been simple to find saddle-cloths with the blazon of Cornwall, and even one of Gorlois’ familiar war cloaks with the double border of silver.