to be unharmed. And then Will looked at the bundle she cradled in her arms. It was little Nia, her arms and legs limp and still. The child appeared to be asleep, eyes closed, her features composed. There was a dark, ugly purple bruise on her throat.
Will Scarlet put his ear to the little one’s face. “She’s not breathing.”
“Oh, Will . . .” sobbed Noín as Scarlet gathered them both in his arms.
“Bran!” shouted Rhoddi. “Over here!”
A few dozen steps farther along the path lay another, larger bundle—a shapeless mass of bloody rags, as if a sack of meat had been rolled and crushed beneath a millstone. Beside what was left of this body lay the banfáith’s staff. Bran halted in midstep, staring, his face frozen.
“Angharad!” he cried, rushing swiftly to the body. He sank to his knees beside the pathetic heap of rag and bone and gathered it into his arms. He knelt there, rocking back and forth, cradling the corpse of his beloved teacher and advisor, his confidante, his best and dearest friend.
After a time, Bran collected himself somewhat; he lowered the body to the ground and gently smoothed the hair from the old woman’s face and then cupped her wrinkled cheek in his hand. “Farewell, Mother,” he whispered, gazing at the wizened features he had come to know so well. He placed the tips of his fingers to her eyes and drew her eyelids shut, then bent his head in sorrow as his tears flowed freely.
Owain and the others raced off to make a search of the path and surrounding wood. Bran gathered up the broken body of the Wise Banfáith in his strong arms and returned to Cél Craidd; Scarlet and Noín came after, bearing their beloved daughter. Tuck, ministering to Tomas’s wound, looked up as Bran and Scarlet returned with the little girl and the old woman. He rose and ran to them as they lay the corpses beneath the spreading boughs of the Council Oak. “Who is it? Who—?” he said and stopped in his tracks. “Lord have mercy,” he sighed when he saw who had been killed. “Christ have mercy.”
Turning to Noín and Scarlet, he gathered them in a gentle embrace and prayed for them then and there, that the Lord of Life would give them strength to bear their loss. He did the same for Bran and, seeing as there was nothing more to be done just then, he returned to tending the wounded Tomas.
Bran was kneeling by the still body of Angharad when Owain came to him. “We found no one else injured, Rhi Bran. I think—I hope—everyone got away.”
He was silent for a moment, watching Bran straighten the old woman’s battered limbs. “Do you think they knew it was King Raven’s home they attacked?”
“Those knights weren’t looking for this place, but they found it anyway.”
“But do they know what they found?” asked Owain.
“Perhaps not,” allowed Bran. “But if they do come back, they’ll come in force, and we will not be able to defend it. We will stay here tonight and abandon Cél Craidd in the morning—and pray we have at least that much time.” He folded one of the old woman’s wrinkled hands over the other. “Tell everyone to prepare to leave. We’ll take only what we can carry easily. Bundle up all the arrows and extra bows—get Brocmael and Ifor to help you secure all the weapons. Tell Siarles to set sentries in the usual places. Go. We must be ready to move at first light tomorrow.”
Owain nodded. “Where will we go, my lord?”
“It is a big forest,” he said, brushing a wispy strand of hair away from Angharad’s face. “We’ll find someplace to camp.”
It was early evening, and the sun had tinged the sky with a crimson hue when Noín finally brought herself to speak about what had happened, which was that after the war band had departed, the Grellon went about their daily chores. She and Cia had gone to gather blackberries in the wood; she had taken Nia with her, and the three of them had spent the morning picking. When they had filled their bowls, they started back. “Nia was so excited,” Noín said, “she’d gathered more and bigger berries than ever before, and she wanted to show Angharad. So she went ahead of us . . . I tried to call her back . . .” Noín paused, choking back the tears. “But she didn’t hear me, and anyway she knew the path.