Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,51

a thick winter cloak. Behind him, also swaddled deep against the cold, sat Meredith.

‘Too late for what, my lord?’ asked Dera.

‘To show respect,’ replied Prince Drustan. ‘Will one of you help Princess Romney down? She is not used to riding and she is afraid that she will fall.’

For a moment no one moved, as though none felt inclined towards helping the child whose actions had caused Linette’s death. But then Branwen looked into the small, round, petulant face and saw under the selfishness and the pride, a genuine spark of sorrow. She came up to the horse and lifted her arms. Romney reached down and with Drustan’s help, the little girl was set safe on the ground.

The prince and Meredith also dismounted, and Branwen noticed how they held hands as they moved to the graveside.

So, a love-match after all. How fate can smile when it chooses to.

The others parted to allow them to come to the brink of the dark hole. Romney followed, pressing herself in between them, taking a grip on Meredith’s hand, staring down at Linette’s body under its white shroud.

‘How did you get leave to come here?’ Dera murmured.

‘I am the king’s son,’ Drustan replied. ‘I need no permission.’

‘Does their father know of it?’ asked Iwan.

Drustan lifted his head and looked into Iwan’s face. ‘I did not think to ask,’ he said. ‘Meredith and Romney sent word that they wished to speak with me. I came to them and they told me that they wanted to pay their respects at the graveside of your fallen comrade. And so we are come.’

‘I hope we do not intrude on your grief,’ said Meredith. ‘The wish to do this came from Romney.’

Branwen looked at the little girl in surprise. She had assumed Romney had been forced to come against her will.

‘I wanted to give her something,’ Romney piped, her voice thin and strained. ‘She was nice to me and I was not nice to her and I’m sorry she’s dead and I wish she was still alive.’ And so saying, she took something from within the folds of her cloak and dropped it down into the grave. It shone on the white cloth. A golden brooch. ‘There,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I want to go back now.’

‘Well, there was a marvel of sorts, to be sure,’ breathed Iwan as they watched Drustan and the two princesses riding back to Pengwern. ‘I would not have thought the little brat had such a heart in her. Do you think she did it of her own will, or was there coercion?’

‘I think it was as Drustan said,’ replied Branwen. ‘I think she was genuinely saddened by Linette’s death.’

Aberfa picked up a spade and thrust it into the mound of fresh earth. She took the heaped spade to the graveside. ‘Farewell, sweet sister,’ she said. ‘We’ll meet again, anon.’

‘But not too quickly, I hope,’ murmured Iwan, taking another spade and joining Aberfa in heaving earth into the grave.

The white shroud gradually vanished under the brown earth. For a while, they heaped the earth over Linette, working in diligent silence while the day wore on. At last, they beat down the filled grave with the flat of the spades and then fetched the grey stones. Branwen watched, standing slightly apart from the others, while Banon and Rhodri and Blodwedd ferried the stones from the saddlebags and Iwan and Aberfa positioned them over the grave.

Dera came and stood silent at her side.

‘You were gone a long time,’ Branwen said. ‘I thought perhaps you had made a final choice.’

‘I made that choice last summer,’ said Dera. ‘I have not changed my mind since then. I am yours, Branwen, for all that is worth.’ A miserable edge came into her voice. ‘But it is hard beyond endurance to feel the displeasure of my father.’

‘And so you are torn,’ said Branwen. ‘I understand.’

Dera looked sideways at her. ‘There is more to it than that,’ she said. ‘My father’s blessing would mean a great deal to me, it’s true, and I linger at his side to show him that I remain his loving daughter.’ She frowned. ‘But there is something else. He is uneasy … he will tell me nothing in plain words – but I believe that this truce between the king and Prince Llew worries him.’

Dera now had Branwen’s full attention. ‘He fears treachery?’

‘If he was sure that Llew ap Gelert was false, he would speak out,’ said Dera. ‘But I see him watching the prince and Captain