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‘I think Gort meant you’re to become a wizard of sorts. He said the natural talent was strong in you – and getting stronger – whereas in all the rest of the world the magic is leaking away. He says your magic feels ancient.’
    He grunted. ‘Sometimes it makes me feel very old, I know that much.’
    ‘Is it so hard to accept, Will? Arthur’s third and final appearance as wizard-king?’ She smiled privately, then abruptly changed the subject. ‘I wonder what it’s going to be like, living in the big city.’
    ‘Well, I’d guess the royal palace is no better than all the other lordly houses we’ve seen – a forbidding fortress and a boast when seen from without, yet a hive of treachery within.’
    ‘No place to bring a baby to, then?’
    That focussed him. ‘No.’
    As he settled into a morose silence he thought of the battle they had succeeded in spoiling at Delamprey. Though it would be remembered as a victory for the Duke of Ebor, the duke had not even been there. The fight had been won by his son, Edward, and by his fearsome ally, Lord Warrewyk, the greatest and richest man in the Realm. In truth, though, the entire result had been secured through Will’s own efforts.
    Now Duke Richard had joined his son, and the victorious army was slowly marching south towards Trinovantwhere it was certain to be happily received by the townsfolk in a day or two’s time.
    ‘Please! Try to keep up!’ the wizard chided them.
    ‘We can’t go any faster, Master Gwydion!’ Will called back.
    The wizard turned away, equally irritated. ‘We must reach the capital before Richard of Ebor does. You know that.’
    ‘But we’ll do that easily.’
    ‘And do you think Maskull has left no magic there? The White Tower and the White Hall will both be webbed about with all manner of mischief. I must find it and deal with it before it can bear on events. And I must find clues to the whereabouts of the secret place where he has done all his dirty work. That will be no easy task.’
    Will lapsed into silence again. He had more than enough on his mind without troubling himself about Gwydion’s problems. Chlu lay heaviest upon his thoughts. It was strange to think that he had always had a brother, stranger still to know that brother was his twin, but strangest of all to find that it was Chlu who all along had been trying to kill him.
    ‘I must find out why, and make my peace with him if I can,’ he told Willow.
    ‘Some chance of that when all he wants to do is murder you. And mind what Master Gwydion said about speaking his true name. He said that if you did that you’d be destroyed.’
    He shook his head. ‘He said that would happen only if I spoke Chlu’s true name as part of a spell. Don’t worry, the pronunciation is difficult, for it’s a Cambray name and the men of Cambray have their own tradition in both magic and words that is hard to approach and even harder to master. And anyway, Master Gwydion says that knowing a person’s true name always gives a measure of power over them.’
    ‘Well, I wouldn’t take the risk if I were you. Promise me you’ll keep away from Chlu if you can.’
    ‘I can’t promise that. I need to know what Maskull has done to him. Perhaps I can heal him. And perhaps in return he’ll be able to tell me what I most want to know.’

CHAPTER TWO
TRINOVANT
    A s they rode south, shadowing the last league of the Great North Road, they crested a heath dotted with elm trees and Trinovant began to rise up out of the afternoon haze. Will saw the dark needle of the Spire, which rose up like a crack in the sky, and the blue-grey sprawl that lay below it, sunk in summer haze.
    ‘The Spire contains the shrine of Ercowald,’ Gwydion said, ‘to which many pilgrims make journeys on the days when its precincts are thrown open to the ill and the dying, the lovelorn and despairing. They are given to wash in the troughs that surround the building, and perhaps make bargains of the heart with the hidden