He didn’t move, but the emerald on his breast glittered suddenly against the black as if his heart had jumped.

She said fiercely: “Don’t pretend you guessed this! How could you guess it?”

“Not a guess, no. When I rode in the place was humming with whispers like a smashed harp.” He added, in sudden irritation: “You stand there like a ghost with your hands on your belly as if you still had a bastard there to protect.”

Surprisingly, she smiled. “But I have.” Then as the emerald leapt again: “No, don’t be a fool. Where would I get another bastard now? I meant that I cannot go until I know he is safe from you. And that we are both safe from what you propose to do.”

“From what I propose to do to you? I swear to you there is nothing—”

“I am talking about my father’s kingdom. But let it go now. I told you, my only concern is that St. Peter’s should be left in peace . . . And it will be.”

“You saw this in the crystal?”

“It is unlawful for a Christian to dabble in soothsaying,” said Niniane, but her voice was a little over-prim, and he looked sharply at her, then, suddenly restless, took a couple of strides away into the shadows at the side of the room, then back into the light. “Tell me,” he said abruptly. “What of Vortimer?”

“He will die,” she said indifferently.

“We shall all die, some day. But you know I am committed to him now. Can you not tell me what will happen this coming spring?”

“I see nothing and I can tell you nothing. But whatever your plans for the kingdom, it will serve no purpose to let even the smallest whisper of murder start, and I can tell you this, you’re a fool if you think that the King’s death was anything but an accident. Two of the grooms saw it happen, and the girl he’d been with.”

“Did the man say anything before they killed him?”

“Cerdic? No. Only that it was an accident. He seemed concerned more for my son than for himself. It was all he said.”

“So I heard,” said Camlach.

The silence came back. They stared at one another. She said: “You would not.”

He didn’t answer. They stood there, eyes locked, while a draught crept through the room, making the torches gutter.

Then he smiled, and went. As the door slammed shut behind him a gust of air blew through the room, and tore the flames along from the torches, till shadow and light went reeling.

*   *   *

The flames were dying, and the crystals dim. As I climbed out of the cave and pulled my cloak after me, it tore. The embers in the brazier showed a sullen red. Outside, now, it was quite dark. I stumbled down from the ledge and ran towards the doorway.

“Galapas!” I shouted. “Galapas!”