He let out a long whistling breath, and Hanno’s paddle checked to dip again hurriedly as the coracle swung and rocked across the current. “You heard that, Hanno? It’s the bastard. Then why in the name of the spirits of lower earth did you tell us you were a slave?”

“I didn’t know who you were. You hadn’t recognised me so I thought if you were thieves yourselves or Vortigern’s men, you’d let me go.”

“Bag, pony, and all . . . So it was true you were running away? Well,” he added thoughtfully, “if all tales be true, you’re not much to be blamed for that. But why set the place on fire?”

“That was true, too. I told you. Camlach killed a friend of mine, Cerdic the Saxon, though he had done nothing to deserve it. I think they only killed him because he was mine and they meant to use his death against me. They put his body in my room for me to find. So I burnt the room. His people like to go to their gods like that.”

“And the devil take anyone else in the palace?”

I said indifferently: “The servants’ wing was empty. They were all at supper, or out looking for me, or serving Camlach. It’s surprising—or perhaps it isn’t—how quickly people can switch over. I expect they’ll put the fire out before it reaches the King’s apartments.”

He regarded me in silence for a minute. We were still racing with the turning tide, well out in the estuary now. Hanno gave no sign of steering to the farther bank. I pulled my cloak closer round me and shivered.

“Who were you running to?” asked Marric.

“Nobody.”

“Look, boy, I want the truth, or bastard prince or not, you’ll go over the side now. Hear me? You’d not last a week if you hadn’t someone to go to, to take service with. Who did you have in mind? Vortigern?”

“It would be sensible, wouldn’t it? Camlach’s going with Vortimer.”

“He’s what?” His voice sharpened. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. He was playing with the idea before, and he quarrelled with the old King about it. He and his lot would have gone anyway, I think. Now, of course, he can take the whole kingdom with him, and shut it against Vortigern.”

“And open it for who else?”

“I didn’t hear that. Who is there? You can imagine, he wasn’t being very open about it until tonight, when his father the King lay dead.”

“Hm.” He thought for a minute. “The old King leaves a son. What about him?”

“A baby? Aren’t you being a bit simple? Camlach’s had a good example in front of him; Vortimer wouldn’t be where he is if his father hadn’t done just what Camlach will do.”

“And that is?”