Caradoc of the North Wind - By Allan Frewin Jones Page 0,75

was gone, too. Rhodri guessed the faithful bird had departed with Branwen, but no one knew for certain.

Neither Fain nor the two maidens returned that day, but the king and the prince did, in the early evening, full of good news from the east. The talks had gone well and Ironfist had been bought off with vague promises and the offer of further negotiations, they were told. What the Gwyn Braw did not notice was the swathed and gagged figure who was bundled into the citadel and locked away in a chamber of the Hall of Araith. Thus they had no inkling then that Dera had been brought back as a captive.

Days passed and still Branwen and Dera did not return from the west. Rumours circulated that the two girls were dead, or that they had fled the king’s citadel in fear of Saxon attack. Others said they had indeed met with the Shining Ones and that the Old Gods had devoured them.

‘We did not believe this last tale,’ Iwan told her, grimacing at evil memories. ‘At least, the others did not. I was not so resolute at first, and the thought that I had lost you for ever seared me through and through …’ He paused. ‘It was Rhodri who convinced me to have faith. He never doubted the Shining Ones for a moment. He was certain that you and Dera would return, and the rest of us fed off his belief.’

Branwen smiled tenderly at him; dismayed to think that he had known such grief, but glad that Rhodri’s stout heart had brought them all through.

Then, Iwan told her how the passage of a whole moon went by with no word from Branwen or Dera. At the same time, scribes and wise men were sent to speak with Ironfist’s representatives in the east, while reinforcements began to arrive from Dyfed and Gwynedd and Gwent, swelling the numbers in Pengwern and preparing for war.

‘And then, when some were beginning to lose all hope, Blodwedd came back to us,’ Iwan carried on. ‘I don’t know how she got into the citadel – certainly not through the gates – but she woke us at dead of night as we slept in the long house.’ He stopped, snapping his head around to face the cave mouth. ‘Someone is out there!’ he hissed, standing up and drawing his sword.

A small figure stepped into the firelight. A slender shape with a tumble of tawny hair and with great, reflective golden eyes in her round face.

‘Well met,’ said Blodwedd. ‘I came first to be sure you were not enemies, although I guessed what I would find!’

Branwen leaped up, running headlong towards her friend. She grasped Blodwedd in her arms, clinging to her, burying her face in the long hair. Startled as she was by this display of human affection, the owl-girl smiled and patted Branwen’s shoulders. ‘Well met, I say again, Branwen of the Shining Ones,’ she said. ‘I bring good news from the west.’

‘I know it!’ cried Branwen, almost too choked with emotion to speak. And as though seeing Govannon’s messenger again after so long were not enough, Branwen saw the others of the Gwyn Braw step forward into the cave mouth. Dera and Banon and Aberfa gathered around her, laughing and weeping and throwing their arms about her. And Rhodri, too – his dear face wreathed in smiles as she turned to embrace him.

‘I would have come to your rescue,’ he told her, hugging her tight to him. ‘But there were only six stones – so one of us had to stay back. And you know these women!’

As if these blessings weren’t enough for Branwen, Fain came flying in under the roof, crying out again and again as he circled the joyous gathering.

‘But how did you find us?’ Iwan asked as they all gathered around the fire.

‘Fain came to me and told me that you were under the protection of the Shining Ones and that you had been brought to this place,’ Blodwedd told her.

‘The owls held back the Saxon horsemen long enough for us to get far away from them,’ said Aberfa. ‘And I’ll warrant they’ll not find us now.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ said Dera, looking at Branwen with a haunted light in her eyes. ‘I was such a fool, Branwen – to have led you into treachery.’

‘All’s done, Dera, my friend,’ said Branwen, reaching out to grasp her hand. ‘I do not hold you to blame for what happened to me. Others must