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trifles as a small reward for the efforts that you will spend instilling these qualities into our young protégé.’
    Lady Livinia bowed her head in acquiescence, and Artorex groaned inwardly.
    His mistress spent much of her day presiding over the smooth running of her household and weaving fine cloth on her looms, and Artorex did not relish being confined to the villa at her beck and call through the winter months. Any thoughts of leisure when snow shrouded the villa were fast disappearing in the pleasure reflected in Lady Livinia’s eyes.
    Ector expressed his gratitude at the honour bestowed on his family.
    ‘I ask that you thank Lucius and Lord pen Bryn for the courtesy they have shown our house, not only for your fine gifts, but also because you have given us what we might never have anticipated - a strong arm to protect the Villa Poppinidii and keep it safe if ever violent hands are raised against us.’ With age, Ector had discovered that he, too, could speak with a suave polish, especially when he felt totally beyond his depth.
    ‘Of course, the boy still needs some . . . rounding out,’ Luka added.
    ‘Of course,’ Ector agreed cautiously.
    ‘We feel that horsemanship is a vital tool in the arsenal of the warrior, especially as barbarians always travel by foot.’
    Artorex gasped.
    ‘Er . . . yes, I can see your argument,’ Ector agreed, his confusion now clear in his bluff, red face.
    ‘But Artorex isn’t a gentleman!’ Caius protested.
    All eyes, apart from those of Artorex, swivelled towards Ector’s son.
    ‘Young man, would the good Lucius, priest of the Christian god at Holy Glastonbury, have sent the son of a slave to be reared by a man as worthy as your father?’
    Myrddion’s words cut far more deeply than Luka’s sword could have done. They sliced open the youthful pride of Caius. He flushed unbecomingly and opened his mouth to speak but, as one, the men turned away from him as if he was of no account.
    Only Livinia stared fixedly at Caius, and she raised a finger to her small mouth to silence the young man.
    She had no inkling of the importance Artorex held for these great ones, but she instinctively realized that his person was vital to them. Villa Poppinidii, of all the great houses, had been chosen to nurture a cuckoo in its nest, and her husband and son could only profit from that choice - especially if Caius could be forced to relinquish the prejudices of his childhood and birth. Lady Livinia lived and prospered through her duty to her house so, from this point on, she would give Artorex the benefit of her full attention.
    ‘How old are you now, Artorex?’ Myrddion asked, as the boy filled his wine cup.
    ‘I am in my fifteenth year, my lord.’
    ‘So young,’ Myrddion mused. ‘And so tall.’
    ‘He’s a little too tall,’ Luka stated. ‘He will draw the greatest warriors towards him when he is on the battlefield.’
    ‘Unless he’s truly exceptional, or mounted on a large horse.’
    ‘It would have to be a very large horse - once the boy is fully grown.’ Luka laughed. ‘Else it will soon grow swaybacked under his weight.’
    As he listened to the discussion flowing over and around him, Artorex wanted to scream and shout questions at the honoured guests. It was only with the greatest self-control that he managed to hold his curiosity in check.
    Although Artorex’s eyes said nothing, they had lightened with his mounting anger. He was still very young.
    Luka saw the start of red spots high on the boy’s cheekbones.
    ‘These changes must be difficult for you to understand, Artorex. We come out of nowhere, make decisions that change the order of your life and then disappear without providing any explanation for our actions. However, you can be assured we do have our reasons for monitoring your education.’
    Artorex lifted his chin. His face now reddened further in embarrassment and confusion.
    ‘That may be true, my lord. But any man would wish to understand his place in