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loved her, though they were too much afraid of her to deny her anything. They were not so afraid of Medraut, and he had come to Camlann, while the new king, his brother, who had long fought for Arthur, returned and ruled in the Islands. Medraut was very bitter against Agravain. But the immediate cause of quarrels was generally his other brother, Gwalchmai, who was also at Camlann, and was one of Arthur’s most trusted and valued followers. Gwalchmai seemed to be hated by Medraut even more than Agravain was, though he had had no part in the murder, and most of the quarrels were between his friends, of whom Cei was one, and Medraut’s.
    Cei glanced at the farmers and lowered his voice. “Rhuawn has taken to blaming Gwalchmai for the death of that witch from the Ynysoedd Erch. He has been repeating that tale for years now, like a catechism, so that half the Family thinks that Gwalchmai murdered his mother—as though the witch deserved to live in the first place! Whose tale is that but Medraut’s? Ach, but it is an old story; so old that I must listen to it in silence and say nothing. But when Rhuawn dared to say that Gwalchmai is hindering the negotiations with Less Britain, and deliberately obstructing the conclusion of a peace there, because of some imagined weak-mindedness—when I heard Rhuawn saying this to his friends, I went to him as he spoke and told him that it was he who was weak-minded, to believe such ravings. And Rhuawn leapt up with his hand on his sword, and called me a blind, stubborn fool who could not see what was before his eyes, and accused me of flattering the emperor into believing falsehoods—and this in the presence of four others! My lady, I could ask Arthur to demand that Rhuawn apologize to me, but I do not wish to humiliate the man. You can persuade him to offer it: do so, for God’s sake, or I will fight him tomorrow, and, though he is a fool, I do not wish to harm him.”
    I nodded, feeling sick. The quarrel was typical. I had had to wheedle too many warriors into offering apologies, and I could not disguise the fact that my sympathies were entirely with Gwalchmai, which meant that it grew increasingly difficult for me to win over members of Medraut’s party, which included Rhuawn.
    Warriors tend to quarrel in the best of years. They are taught to regard an insult, or an admission of weakness, as a dishonor, and the only remedy for dishonor as the sword. They quarrel most in the winter, when they are kept in a narrow space together—the three hundred men who slept in our Hall had more space than most—and have little to do. In the summer they can go to war if there are any wars to be fought, or else fight bandits and form escorts, or, at the least, go hunting; and then they tend to be good-natured. But the quarrels at Camlann were more serious. They were not easing with the warm weather. For years they had been growing steadily worse, and the ordinary methods of soothing them—flattery and pleas on both sides—were working less and less well. I was afraid for the future.
    “If Rhuawn apologizes,” I told Cei, “you must beg his pardon for calling him weak-minded.”
    “Must I, by God? He is weak-minded, to believe such slander!”
    “The slander is Gwalchmai’s affair. If anyone accuses him to his face, he can demand an apology, and we can see to it that he receives it, at least as far as the negotiations with Less Britain are concerned. But it is not your affair to fight Rhuawn on his behalf, noble lord. Let Gwalchmai guard his own honor. He is not exactly helpless.”
    “He is too courteous. And no one will accuse him to his face if they must fight him: he either escapes the insults or turns them.”
    “It is still his affair. And if you do not wish to fight Rhuawn, noble lord, you will have to apologize.” I said it more sharply than I meant, for I was growing impatient.
    Cei again began to protest, but one of the farmers, also impatient, came over and suggested a price for