Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,5

fetch the girls from their hiding holes and get away from here as quick as we may. The wind is getting up and I’d be under shelter before the night falls.’

‘We shall depart in a moment,’ agreed Branwen. She held Angor’s eyes. ‘Your path is yours to choose,’ she said calmly. ‘You will release the daughters of Llew ap Gelert into our custody, but whether you come with us to Pengwern or make your way elsewhere, I care not.’ She eyed the three injured men. ‘It is a long path that will take you back to Doeth Palas, Captain Angor. For your men’s sakes, I’d have you in my party – so long as you will obey my commands.’

Angor’s eyes blazed. ‘That I shall never do!’

‘Then they will likely perish of their wounds,’ Iwan said. ‘Cursing you for a stubborn fool with their last breaths.’

‘I have healing skills, Captain Angor,’ added Rhodri. ‘I will tend your men whether you come with us or no.’

‘He will take the road to Pengwern with you, do not doubt it,’ said a new voice from the half-blocked entrance to the tower; a female voice, young but full of authority. ‘Captain Angor will follow my commands, or my father will have his head!’

And so saying, Meredith ap Llew, eldest daughter of the prince of Bras Mynydd, stepped out over the rubble and came into the open.

‘Greetings to you, Branwen ap Griffith,’ she said. ‘Far have we both travelled since last we saw one another under my father’s roof in Doeth Palas.’ She bowed her head. ‘My life is in your hands. I know we were never friends, but I hope you will see me safe to my wedding with the king’s son.’

CHAPTER THREE

It was so strange for Branwen to encounter the daughter of Llew ap Gelert under such circumstances that for a few moments she could do no more than gaze at her in silence.

They had last seen one another during the long-lost summer before the war had begun. They were of an age, the two girls, but shared nothing else in common. Spoilt and pampered, Branwen had thought Meredith and her younger sister Romney, forever preening themselves, their soft bodies draped in silken gowns, their minds empty and vain.

They in turn thought her quite the barbarian – an unsophisticated ruffian from the eastern wildernesses. And they were not slow to show her their disdain, nor their amusement at her unkempt appearance.

But it seemed the journey across Bras Mynydd and over the mountains had taken their toll on the elder sister. Meredith’s usually immaculate hair was a ruin of half-fallen braids and knots, gleaming here and there with displaced green and yellow jewels. There was grime on her face and her thick woollen cloak was dirtied and frayed about the hem. Her slender face was still beautiful, but there was a new, haggard look to her features, and in her eyes Branwen saw fear and misery.

After the space of maybe five heartbeats, Branwen found her voice. ‘Well met, Meredith,’ she said in as kindly a tone as she could manage. ‘You need have no fear. Where is your sister? I was told she would be travelling with you.’

‘She is in an upper room,’ said Meredith. ‘She is very frightened and she is sick with cold and hunger.’ A tear crept down her face. ‘Our servants are dead and our carriage and horses taken by the Saxons. How are we to get to Pengwern now?’

Captain Angor dropped to one knee in front of her. ‘I gave a promise to your father to deliver you and the Lady Romney safe and well into the king’s court,’ he said. ‘I won’t fail you.’

‘I will find Princess Romney,’ said Rhodri, stepping up on to the rubble that spilled from the entrance way. ‘Then we should get away from here. Blodwedd is right – the Saxons may rally in the forest and return.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Branwen. ‘Linette, Banon? Go and fetch our horses. We shall have to ride double to give everyone a seat, but speed is of the essence.’ She looked up into the sky. The sun was gone now, dusk seeping across the pale wintry blue, throwing down long shadows. She turned to Captain Angor. ‘Are you with us or not? Choose swiftly.’

‘He is with you, Branwen,’ said Meredith.

Angor gave a curt nod to the princess and stood up, avoiding Branwen’s gaze as he went to check on his wounded men.

A fine foe to have with us on the

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