Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,43

said. ‘And all said without a taunt or a tease.’ He frowned into the snowy night. ‘Let’s close the door, barbarian princess – and banish the cold as much as we can.’

And so they drew the wicker door close and pulled the woollen curtain across to keep out the cold. And together, with hands almost touching, they walked to sit with their companions by the cheering firelight.

Branwen was awoken in the middle of the night by a stealthy step close by the end of her bed. She was alert in an instant, one hand reaching for her sword.

A shadow slid across the ruddy firelight. A familiar shape.

She let go of her sword hilt and got quickly to her feet, wrapping herself in the fur bed covering.

Dera was sitting on a hearthstone, her shoulders hunched, her eyes hidden as she stared into the flickering flames. Branwen knelt at her side, looking searchingly into her face.

‘Is all well?’ Branwen whispered.

‘All is well,’ Dera replied softly.

‘You were gone a long time,’ said Branwen. ‘Did you and your father speak much together?’

‘We did,’ Dera replied. ‘Mostly we ate and watched the entertainments in the Hall of Arlwy, but we spoke as well.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ urged Branwen, wanting to know more and growing impatient with her taciturn friend. ‘Are you reconciled?’

Dera turned her head away. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘Can we speak of this another time?’

Branwen rested her hand on Dera’s knee. ‘Did he ask you to choose between his love and mine?’

‘It is not so simple as you may …’ Dera’s voice faded away with the rest of her words going unspoken. ‘I’m tired,’ she said again, getting up this time. ‘I want to sleep.’

For a few minutes, Branwen knelt alone by the fire.

What had passed between father and daughter?

Denounce the shaman girl and return to the bosom of your family!

No! Never!

Or …

Yes! I cannot bear it! I will do as you ask, Father. I will renounce the Gwyn Braw.

Branwen shook her head to rid herself of these pointless thoughts. Dera would not turn from them – the sky would fall first!

Dera was no more forthcoming the next morning when the rest of the Gwyn Braw awoke. All they could learn from her was that she and her father had spoken, and that Dagonet had made no demands on her to shift her loyalties. Beyond that, she remained tight-lipped, although it was clear to Branwen that she was leaving something unsaid.

The morning was spent sparring in the long house and checking that their horses were comfortable and as well fed as possible in the circumstances. In ones and twos they made trips to visit Linette. Branwen noticed she was quieter than the previous day, as though the effort of showing them a brave face had drained her. The ailing warrior girl lay either gazing into the fire or with her eyelids closed, but not asleep.

Some time in the latter part of the afternoon a commotion at the gate alerted Branwen that Eanfrid Hunwald had returned. He must have had quite the gallop to get to and from Chester so rapidly.

Branwen strode impatiently up and down the long house, waiting for a summons from the king, so that she could learn what word had been brought from Ironfist.

She saw the Saxon general’s scarred one-eyed face in her mind. He was laughing at her. Mocking her. She snarled and ground her heels into the earthen floor, every sinew tense in her body, every muscle aching to strike out at the jeering vision that filled her head.

In the end she lost patience and stormed across the compound to the Hall of Araith. The doors were closed and guards stood sentry with spears in their hands.

‘Let me pass,’ she said.

‘The king says none may enter,’ replied the guard, and she saw his knuckles tighten on the spear shaft.

‘Is the Saxon within?’ asked Branwen.

‘He is.’

‘And I am not to know what is being said?’

The guards did not reply.

She considered trying to force them aside – but to what purpose? If Cynon did not want her in there, then breaking in would do her no good.

This is Llew’s doing, she thought bitterly as she turned away. He murmurs his lies in the king’s ears and stops me from speaking to him. Well! If that is the way the wind blows, perhaps my duty here is at an end. Perhaps it’s time to take my people out of Pengwern and return to the path the Shining Ones would have me