A dozen answers all sounding equally well jostled in my head for expression. I thought I saw my mother watching me with pity, and I knew that my grandfather waited with indifference and impatience only faintly tempered with amusement. I told the simple truth. “Because I am more than twelve years old, and have never been out of Maridunum. Because I know that if my uncle has his way, I shall soon be shut up, in this valley or elsewhere, to study as a clerk, and before that happens—”

The terrifying brows came down. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to study?”

“No. It’s what I want more than anything in the world. But study means more if one has seen just a little of the world—indeed, sir, it does. If you would allow me to go with you—”

“I’m going to Segontium, did they tell you that? It’s not a feast-day hunting-party, it’s a long ride and a hard one, and no quarter given for poor riders.”

It was like lifting a heavy weight, to keep my eyes level on that fierce blue glare. “I’ve been practising, sir, and I’ve a good pony now.”

“Ha, yes, Dinias’ breakdown. Well, that’s about your measure. No, Merlin, I don’t take children.”

“Then you’re leaving Dinias behind?”

I heard my mother gasp, and my grandfather’s head, already turned away, jerked back to me. I saw his fists clench on the chair arm, but he did not hit me. “Dinias is a man.”

“Then do Mael and Duach go with you, sir?” They were his two pages, younger than myself, and went everywhere with him.

My mother began to speak, in a breathless rush, but my grandfather moved a hand to stop her. There was an arrested look in the fierce eyes under the scowling brows. “Mael and Duach are some use to me. What use are you?”

I looked at him. “Till now, of very little. But have they not told you that I speak Saxon as well as Welsh, and can read Greek, and that my Latin is better than yours?”

“Merlin—” began my mother, but I ignored her.

“I would have added Breton and Cornish, but I doubt if you will have much use for these at Segontium.”

“And can you give me one good reason,” said my grandfather drily, “why I should speak to King Vortigern in any other language but Welsh, seeing that he comes from Guent?”

I knew from his tone that I had won. Letting my gaze fall from his was like retreating with relief from the battlefield. I drew a breath, and said, very meekly: “No, sir.”