Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,57

the king was to hand over to Ironfist was a woman?

A moment later, Branwen heard a stifled cry from the far side of the circle of stones. There was a flurry of movement. Dera plunged into view, running hard, her face livid with dread and anguish.

‘Branwen, we have been tricked!’ she screamed. ‘Fly! It is a trap!’

A large dark shape loomed up from behind the same stone. It ran forward, snatching at Dera, grasping her around the waist, the other hand coming up over her mouth.

Dagonet ap Wadu!

Dera’s father lifted her off her feet, stifling her cries with one hand while she struggled and kicked in his grip.

Branwen rose to her feet, drawing her sword with a single hissing motion. But she had not taken a single step before she heard a rushing sound at her back. She turned to see a dozen armed men pounding up towards her. Not Saxon men – but warriors of Powys.

And at the same instant, more soldiers rose from behind the stones – Saxon archers, each with an arrow on the string.

Each aiming their arrows at Branwen.

She spun this way and that, her mind reeling as she tried to take in what was happening. The archers must have slipped up here as the sun rose, stealthy as spiders, lurking in silence to spring the trap on her.

‘Take her alive!’ roared Ironfist. ‘The man who kills her forfeits his own life!’ Then he shouted again in his own language – as though giving the same command to the Saxon bowmen.

Branwen put her back to the standing stone, lifting her shield to her eyes, hefting her sword in her fist – standing ready as the swordsmen approached her up the hill.

‘Branwen ap Griffith,’ shouted Llew. ‘If you fight you will die, that is most certain – but you will not die alone! Listen to me, witch girl! Throw down your sword, or when I return to Pengwern I will have all of the Gwyn Braw slaughtered. Do not doubt me!’

Branwen hesitated, her heart flooded with anger and despair. How had she misjudged the situation so catastrophically? How had it never occurred to her that this might happen?

The men were close to her now, moving more slowly, their eyes uneasy as they came forward. They knew too well her prowess in battle. None wished to be the first to feel her sword.

‘I have archers with me who can shoot a cherry from the branch at fifty paces, shaman girl of the waelisc!’ called Ironfist. ‘If you do not drop your sword, I will order them to fire at your hands. Consider how well you will fight with nothing but the stubs of fingers!’

She lunged forward, shouting, sweeping the air with her sword. The soldiers drew back, fear in their faces. She turned and scrambled up on to the head of the tall stone, planting her feet firmly, turning to face the four horsemen.

‘Am I to be sacrificed?’ she called out to them, her eyes on the king. ‘Am I the price of peace, my lord?’

King Cynon looked at her, his face calm and emotionless. ‘You are,’ he said.

‘I will not surrender!’ Branwen cried. ‘I’ll die before I am handed over to the Saxons!’

‘So be it,’ called Llew. ‘Then we shall ride back to Pengwern over your dead body and cut the throats of all who followed you.’ His voice was raven-harsh in her ears. ‘And then we shall ride north to Garth Milain and we shall cut out your mother’s heart for having cursed this land with such a fiend as you!’

Branwen gaped at him. Not for a heartbeat did she doubt his word. He would do these things. He would murder Iwan and Aberfa and Banon and Rhodri – and then he would go to her homeland and kill her mother.

He would! She knew it as certainly as if she could already see their bleeding corpses in front of her shrinking eyes.

She looked down to where Dagonet still held the squirming and kicking Dera.

So it’s all done, is it? At least I die knowing that Dera did not betray me. She was as fooled as was I, that much is plain. The conversation between Llew and Angor must have been staged for her ears. They knew she would come to me, and they knew I would act as I did. And so I walked open-eyed into the trap they prepared for me. Branwen the honourable fool. And what of my ancient guardians now? Where are they