"Godamar," he said.
"Sire?"
"You rode with me that day when we tracked a certain lady from Cambremont glade towards the pine forest."
"Sire, you forestall me in thought."
"So?"
"I could even swear upon my sword that it is Yeoland of Cambremont who rides with the Gerainters."
Flavian coloured and commended him. Godamar ran on.
"I threaded the thicket, sire, made a detour, galloped hard and rejoined our company. The Gerainters were blind as bats; they had never a scout to serve them. We kept under cover and watched their march. They came due west in three columns, one following the other. Six miles from Geraint, Longsword gave me a spare horse and sent me spurring to bring you the news."
Flavian stroked his chin and brooded.
"Their numbers?" he asked anon.