then slumped. The champion slashed the arm of one attacker and opened the side of another as he sped by. Then his way was blocked by a sudden swirl of Norman attackers. Hacking with wild and determined energy, he tried to force his way through by dint of strength alone, but the enemy riders closed ranks against him.
His sword became a gleaming flash around him as he struck out again and again. He dropped one knight, whose misjudged thrust went wide, and wounded another, who desperately reined his horse away and out of range of the champion’s lethal blade.
As he turned to take the third attacker, Iwan glimpsed his king struggling to keep his saddle. He saw Brychan lurch forward and topple from his horse into the water.
The king struggled to his knees and beheld his champion fighting to reach him a short distance away. “Ride!” he shouted. “Flee! You must warn the people!”
Rhi Brychan made one last attempt to rise, got his feet under him and took an unsteady step, then collapsed. The last thing Iwan saw was the body of his king floating face-down in the turgid, bloodstained waters of the Wye.
CHAPTER 2
A kiss before I go,” Bran murmured, taking a handful of thick dark hair and pressing a curled lock to his lips. “Just one.”
“No!” replied Mérian, pushing him away. “Away with you.”
“A kiss first,” he insisted, inhaling the rosewater fragrance of her hair and skin.
“If my father finds you here, he will flay us both,” she said, still resisting. “Go now—before someone sees you.”
“A kiss only, I swear,” Bran whispered, sliding close.
She regarded the young man beside her doubtfully. Certainly, there was not another in all the valleys like him. In looks, grace, and raw seductive appeal, he knew no equal. With his black hair, high handsome brow, and a ready smile that was, as always, a little lopsided and deceptively shy—the mere sight of Bran ap Brychan caused female hearts young and old to flutter when he passed.
Add to this a supple wit and a free-ranging, unfettered charm, and the Prince of Elfael was easily the most ardently discussed bachelor amongst the marriageable young women of the region. The fact that he also stood next in line to the kingship was not lost on any of them. More than one lovesick young lady sighed herself to sleep at night in the fervent hope of winning Bran ap Brychan’s heart for her own—causing more than one determined father to vow to nail that wastrel’s head to the nearest doorpost if he ever caught him within a Roman mile of his virgin daughter’s bed.
Yet and yet, there was a flightiness to his winsome ways, a fickle inconstancy to even his most solemn affirmations, a lack of fidelity in his ardour. He possessed a waggish capriciousness that most often showed itself in a sly refusal to take seriously the genuine concerns of life. Bran flitted from one thing to the next as the whim took him, never remaining long enough to reap the all-too-inevitable consequences of his flings and frolics.
Lithe and long-limbed, habitually clothed in the darkest hues, which gave him an appearance of austerity—an impression completely overthrown by the puckish glint in his clear dark eyes and the sudden, unpredictable, and utterly provocative smile—he nevertheless gorged on an endless glut of indulgence, forever helping himself to the best of everything his noble position could offer. King Brychan’s rake of a son was unashamedly pleased with himself.
“A kiss, my love, and I will take wings,” Bran whispered, pressing himself closer still.
Feeling both appalled and excited by the danger Bran always brought with him, Mérian closed her eyes and brushed his cheek with her lips. “There!” she said firmly, pushing him away. “Now off with you.”
“Ah, Mérian,” he said, placing his head on her warm breast, “how can I go, when to leave you is to leave my heart behind?”
“You promised!” she hissed in exasperation, stiff arms forcing him away again.
There came the sound of a shuffling footstep outside the kitchen door.
“Hurry!” Suddenly terrified, she grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him to his feet. “It might be my father.”
“Let him come. I am not afraid. We will have this out once and for all.”
“Bran, no!” she pleaded. “If you have any thought for me at all, do not let anyone find you here.”
“Very well,” Bran replied. “I go.”
He leaned close and stole a lingering kiss, then leapt to the window frame, pushed open the shutter, and prepared