Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,26

the good of Powys, as great leaders must always do.’

And once the prince had been welcomed into Gwylan Canu, he would ride down the Great South Way and be in Pengwern in time for the wedding of his daughter and the king’s son.

‘Messengers arrived this morning,’ the king replied to Branwen’s question. ‘Prince Llew will arrive on the morrow.’

‘Glad tidings indeed,’ said Angor. ‘And does his army accompany him, my lord?’

‘Madoc ap Rhain will hold a strong force at Gwylan Canu,’ said the king. ‘Lest the Saxons seek to enter our heartlands along the Northern Way. The rest of the army will travel south with the prince to strengthen Pengwern’s defences.’

One of the king’s counsellors stepped forward now. ‘With regard to our defences against General Ironfist, would it not be prudent now, my lord, to speak with Captain Angor so that we may learn what forces the prince can put under your command? I believe he has such knowledge.’

‘I do,’ said Angor. ‘That and many other pressing matters are ripe for discussion, my lord.’ He threw a hostile glance towards Branwen. ‘In some private place, where improper ears cannot intrude.’

Branwen gave him a calm, cold look then turned to the king again. ‘I am at your command, my lord,’ she said.

‘Go now, rest you and your folk,’ said the king, one hand idly fondling the head of one of his dogs. ‘We shall meet again at this evening’s feast.’

‘I beg leave to be absent from the feast, my lord,’ said Branwen. ‘I should rather be with my injured companion.’

‘We would have you at our side,’ replied the king simply.

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Branwen, hiding her annoyance at this. The last thing she wanted was to have to sit through one of the king’s feasts.

The king made a slightly dismissive gesture. ‘You may leave us, Branwen ap Griffith. I shall summon you if you are needed.’

Branwen bowed low, then turned and strode quickly down the hall. Glancing back as she passed out through the gates, she saw the king’s hand on Angor’s shoulder as they and the gaggle of counsellors made their way into a side-chamber to talk their secrets.

Branwen went to the long house set aside for the Gwyn Braw. A grey, bleak dusk was falling over Pengwern and the wet mud was turning brittle underfoot as the temperature dropped. Torches lit up the ramparts, and here and there bonfires burned with thick black smoke, surrounded by soldiers warming themselves at the snapping flames. Lights glowed in the doorways of the houses and huts; the ordinary people of Pengwern were tucking themselves away for another frozen night. But the torches burned brightly at the entrance to the Hall of Arlwy, and Branwen could smell meat being roasted in preparation for the feast.

In the long house, she found Aberfa, Banon and Iwan basking in the heat of the fire-pit. Aberfa was sharpening a spear point on a whetting stone. Banon was changing out of her wet clothes, having seen that their horses were fed and watered and secure in the stable barn close by. Iwan lay on his back by the fire, his hands behind his head, chewing a stalk of straw.

One wall of the long house was divided by wicker screens into individual sleeping places. Branwen went to her private alcove and changed into dry clothing before spreading her wet garments on the hearthstones and then squatting at Iwan’s side to tell him of the things she had heard in the Hall of Araith.

‘Doesn’t it rankle with you that Prince Llew was allowed into Gwylan Canu?’ Branwen asked him at last. ‘Angor threatened to torture you to death outside its walls not six months ago, and yet, since our meeting in the mountains, not once have you seemed angered by his past deeds.’

Iwan opened an eye. ‘What purpose would anger serve?’ he asked. He made a gesture in a vaguely eastward direction. ‘We have greater concerns, Branwen. Ironfist is ready to unleash his army as soon as the weather clears. Do you remember the size of the camp outside Chester when last we looked?’

Very well, Branwen remembered it. The Gwyn Braw had been sent on a scouting mission across the frozen River Hefren to assess the strength of Ironfist’s army. They had found it greatly engorged with new soldiery since they had been there in the summer. At that time there had been maybe two thousand men encamped outside Chester – but now they guessed the number must be at