I heard my grandfather’s great laugh, and another voice replying. Then he must have swept the newcomer indoors with him, for the voices receded, leaving only the jingle and stamp of the horses being led to the stables.

I broke from Moravik and ran to my mother.

“Who is it?”

“My brother Camlach, the King’s son.” She did not look at me, but pointed to the fallen shuttle. I picked it up and handed it to her. Slowly, and rather mechanically, she set the loom moving again.

“Is the war over, then?”

“The war has been over a long time. Your uncle has been with the High King in the south.”

“And now he has to come home because my uncle Dyved died?” Dyved had been the heir, the King’s eldest son. He had died suddenly, and in great pain, of cramps in the stomach, and Elen his widow, who was childless, had gone back to her father. Naturally there had been the usual talk of poison, but nobody took it seriously; Dyved had been well liked, a tough fighter and a careful man, but generous where it suited. “They say he’ll have to marry. Will he, mother?” I was excited, important at knowing so much, thinking of the wedding feast. “Will he marry Keridwen, now that my uncle Dyved—”

“What?” The shuttle stopped, and she swung round, startled. But what she saw in my face appeased her, for the anger went out of her voice, though she still frowned, and I heard Moravik clucking and fussing behind me. “Where in the world did you get that? You hear too much, whether you understand it or not. Forget such matters, and hold your tongue.” The shuttle moved again, slowly. “Listen to me, Merlin. When they come to see you, you will do well to keep quiet. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, mother.” I understood very well. I was well accustomed to keeping out of the King’s way. “But will they come to see me? Why me?”

She said, with a thin bitterness that made her look all at once older, almost as old as Moravik: “Why do you think?”

The loom clacked again, fiercely. She was feeding in the green thread, and I could see that she was making a mistake, but it looked pretty, so I said nothing, watching her and staying close, till at length the curtain at the doorway was pushed aside, and the two men came in.

They seemed to fill the room, the red head and the grey within a foot of the beams. My grandfather wore blue, periwinkle colour with a gold border. Camlach was in black. Later I was to discover that he always wore black; he had jewels on his hands and at his shoulder, and beside his father he looked lightly built and young, but as sharp and whippy as a fox.

My mother stood up. She was wearing a house-robe of dark brown, the colour of peat, and against it her hair shone like corn-silk. But neither of the two men glanced at her. You would have thought there was no one in the room but I, small as I was, by the loom.