The rest of the party – the main body of it – arrived just as he had finished eating. It was a large company, some twenty armed horsemen escorting three litters and a small drove of baggage-mules. Mounted servants carried torches, so, although the night was now quite black, Alexander, at his window once more, saw it all clearly.

The queen, of course, would be in one of the litters; the foremost, borne by sturdy white mules and with gilded paint glinting, must be hers. He looked for the royal badge of Rheged, then realised that of course a rejected queen would have no right to her husband’s honours, nor to his protection. Not in fact that it was protection, except as guards would provide it for their prisoner. So – with a queer little stir of excitement he realised it – the men-at-arms would probably be the High King’s own. There was no badge or pennon that he could see, but he had heard that Arthur carried a plain white shield – for God to write on, said the churchmen. Well, for whatever reason, thought Alexander, men like Arthur, duke of battles, undisputed ruler of a kingdom united and at peace, was above and beyond, far beyond, the need to flaunt identity and achievement.

So, all unconsciously, impelled by a boy’s instinctive hero-worship, Alexander made the first move of the fight to combat evil, without even suspecting that the evil existed.

He began to find out next day.

He slept deeply, without dreams or disturbances, and woke early to find the servants back at his door with food and fresh water. The old chamberlain Grif was with them, sent by his hostess to ask after the traveller’s comfort, and to give him good wishes for his journey. The Lady Luned had not yet risen, said the old man, and managed, with the gentlest courtesy, to make it clear that when she did, she would be much occupied with waiting on her royal guest. Alexander, who was anxious now only to be on his way, sent back messages of warm thanks and good wishes, then broke his fast, packed his good clothes into the saddle-bag, together with such food as was left over from breakfast, and made his way out into the courtyard.

All was bustle there, men eating and drinking and chaffing the giggling servant-girls who carried food and beer to them; men cleaning their weapons and seeing to their horses and harness; the castle’s own grooms busy with buckets and brushes, and the coming and going by the gate of market-women and local folk bringing their wares to sell.

Alexander made for the stable where he had seen his own horse led on the previous evening. It was there, comfortably housed and sharing a manger with half a dozen others. His saddle was on a wooden rack near the door. He was lifting this down when one of the grooms came in, dumping the pail he carried and hurrying to Alexander’s side.