He did not return the smile, but spoke soberly: “Alice, my dear, God knows I would keep you with me if I might. But you know this thing must be settled sooner or later, if there is to be a sure future for either of us, or for any of our people here.”

“What do you mean?”

The shaft of sunlight had shifted while they talked, and it now fell clear across his chair. In the sharp, cool winter’s light she saw, suddenly, how old he looked. He was thinner, and a look of worry had pared the planes of his face, sharpening the bone structure and driving fresh lines between the eyes. His hair was quite grey.

“You’re ill?” Her voice was curt with sudden fear, making the questions sound like an accusation.

He shook his head. “No, no. I’m well enough. But some news has just come in, grave news. Did you not see the courier?”

“No. Mariamne said she had heard something, but – what news, Father? Trouble?”

“Not for us, not directly. You were jesting just now about my choice of a husband for you … I think you know, from what we have said before, where the first choice might lie.”

“With Drian? Yes. Has something happened to him?”

She spoke with a concern which was little more than formal. Neither she nor the duke had ever met with Drian. He was the younger brother of one of the High King’s Companions, Lamorak. The latter had served recently with Drustan at the court of March of Cornwall. He and his brother were reputed to be good men and loyal servants of the High King.

The duke shook his head. “Again, not directly. But there have been sad doings in the south. There are matters of which I have never spoken to you, but no doubt you’ll have heard the tales the local women tell about the High King’s sister …?”

He hesitated, and Alice said quickly: “Queen Morgan, that was put aside by the King of Rheged, and shut in some convent in Caer Eidyn? Yes, of course I knew that, everyone was talking about it. It was ages ago.” She did not add that of course everyone had also talked, in detail, about the queen’s adulterous liaison that had compounded her treachery and forced her husband to put her aside and hand her over to the King’s justice.

“No, no,” said the duke. “Not Morgan. Her sister Morgause, who was widow of King Lot of Orkney, and lived in the northern islands until the High King called her south to bring her sons to his court at Camelot. He has kept them there in his service, but, for some trespass in the past, Queen Morgause was confined, like her sister, in a convent.”

Alice was silent for a moment. Here again, she knew the story, such versions of it as had originally been allowed to come to a child’s ears, and since then some further embellishments to a tale fast becoming folk-lore. It was said that, many years ago, when they were young, Morgause had lain with her half-brother Arthur, and had borne him a son, Mordred, who, known as the High King’s “nephew”, was now high in Arthur’s trust, and close to both King and Queen at court. This in spite of the fact (it was also whispered) that Morgause had hated her half-brother, and had only let the boy live because of Merlin’s prophecy that one day he would be Arthur’s bane. Merlin, too, she hated, and had finally overstepped herself by trying to poison him. The old enchanter’s magic had defeated her, and he had escaped with his life, but King Arthur had punished her by locking her away in the convent at Amesbury, on the edge of the Great Plain.