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the world in which he lives.’
    ‘Then ask your questions. If it is in my power to answer, be very sure that I will do so. It is far better than listening behind closed doors.’
    Now, Artorex flushed hotly in acute embarrassment.
    ‘You wrong me, my lord. I was only a curious child when last we saw you here - one of no account. You treated me like an untrained hawk, not yet fit for the glove. But I must know what is intended if I am to serve whatever purpose has been ordained for me.’
    ‘The boy speaks truthfully and Luka did resort to a low blow.’ Myrddion laughed easily.
    Artorex clenched his jaw, for even the scholarly Myrddion was still treating him like a performing animal.
    ‘Who is my father?’ Artorex snapped.
    ‘It is not in my power to give you that information. However, you may be assured that he was a man of extraordinary gifts, else you would not be here.’ Luka spoke with conviction, and Artorex understood that, at last, the northerner was taking him seriously.
    ‘Where was I born?’
    ‘In a fortress to the south.’
    ‘Why was I taken from my mother? Is she still alive?’
    ‘Your mother lives. You were brought here to save your life.’
    ‘Oh!’
    Luka recognized that Artorex’s size belied his maturity, and the warrior felt a pang of sorrow as he realized that this amenable and talented young man had no place in the world to call his own. A wealth of hurt feelings and sad experiences, both past and present, were compressed within Artorex’s regretful sigh.
    But the boy also knew how to speak with a voice of unconscious command. For one short moment, Luka had almost slipped under the force of the boy’s personality, and had nearly revealed information that, for now, must be kept secret.
    ‘So you must continue to listen and learn, young Artorex. Perhaps we shall meet again soon, at which time you will almost certainly be able to defeat me in equal combat,’ Luka added, with surprising gentleness.
    Myrddion Merlinus leaned forward and engaged the master and mistress, the heir and the foster-son with eyes that were hooded and brooding.
    ‘The Villa Poppinidii is far from the centre of the world,’ he declared. ‘It’s also far from the deeds of the great ones of Briton - and Briton is far from the Rome that was once the centre of the world until the barbarian hordes stripped the legions of their invincibility. You, Caius, speak of Rome with pride as if it will last forever. But the glory of Rome is gone, just like the empires of the Carthaginians and the Spartans before them, so that Constantinople is now the only city in the world where dreams of past glory still have some shadow of life. Odoacer and his Germanic sons now rule the Forum, and the great fortresses of Gaul are deserted.’ He gazed round at his audience with eyes that were infinitely sad. ‘The legions of Rome will never return. The end of times has come.’
    Ector shivered and Livinia raised her hands to her eyes, but Caius shook his artful curls in denial.
    ‘No, Caius, what is done is done! The barbarians have been nibbling away at your world for two hundred years and now the end is near. Do we go down to the Saxons? Does our civilization fade and rot away under muddy, barbarian feet? Do not doubt me! Artorex has been trained for battle, for all men of the Celtic peoples must fight to ensure that the world we know is not obliterated, as Rome was!’
    Blank, shocked eyes met Myrddion’s direct gaze and then looked down at the fine food and the good wine on the tables before them. Their world had changed, even as they dined, because they suddenly understood that men were fighting and dying so they could eat in peace.
    ‘We’ve often talked of Uther Pendragon and his failure to stem the Saxon tide that moves inexorably towards our peoples. The High King is old, and he is exhausted by a lifetime of attempting the impossible, for chaos has come upon us as the wild hordes of the north continue their march. Without