Politics - Chapter Five

The ride back to Alben had been a brutal one for Wolfhere. With every step of his horse the cut on his side hurt more and more. He could not show the pain to his troops though. As it was they were not really happy with the amount of loot that they had gotten. He would have to spend his own money to pay them.

Liath told him what had happened after he passed out. Although she had left out the part about his son. They had just arrived at the Swan. He now realized that he had been dooped into given the Lady the throne of Nethbo. Oh well, it was to late to ask for payment now. He had a room at the inn and was taking a bath with the help of Liath of course when she decided to tell him.

"Wolf." she said.

"Yes my love." He replied they had been close for well over a year now.

"There was something the Lady Lleucu told me that I haven't told you yet." She was obviously concerned. She was afraid to tell him for if what the lady had said were not true it would crush him.

"And what is that my love." He asked noticing the concern shown on her face.

"Well, she said that your son was still alive, I don't know if it is true or not in fact I didn't even now you had a son." She said very puzzled.

Wolfhere became very quiet, his son had been only about 1 or 2 years old when he had left that would make him almost fifteen. He had been told his whole family had been killed. He just sat there stunned. Then he remembered Dafydd's words. That bastard had tried to tell him before he died.

"Wolf?" Liath said still concerned that he had not said something.

"Did she tell you his name?" He asked in a low quite voice.

"What?" she asked barely hearing him.

"Did she tell you his name?!" He almost yelled.

"Cynwal." Liath said taken back by him raising his voice.

"Where is he?" He demanded.

"She said with some of Abertawe's people somewhere in this country." She replied.

Wolfhere was more shocked that anything. He had named his son Thelom but it was no doubt that Dafydd had changed the name.If his son was still alive then maybe. Wolfhere coughed. His daughter could be too. She had been merely three months old last time he saw her but already looked a lot like her mother. "I have to find them." He said.

"Them??" Liath asked even more puzzled.

"My daughter could be with them as well." Wolfhere jumped out of the bath the quick movement pulled on his wound but he did not care.

He moved over to the bed and began to throw on his clothes. "Are you with me Liath? I need you now more than ever." He said while struggling to get his shirt on.

Liath got out of the bath and helped him pull his shirt on and then began to put on her own clothes. "I will always be with you Wolf." she replied calmly with a beautiful smile.

"Good." he replied. Grabbing his sword and then heading toward the door. "I am going to go down stairs and find out what I can." He opened the door and headed down stairs not waiting for Liath to dress.

Feirha had taken it gently at first. He did not badger Hawk; he simply left him to wallow in his self-indulgent self-pity. The early stages of grief were often ugly like this. But slowly, gradually the Priest-Knight coaxed responses from the king. Trivial at first, then moving carefully to old adventures; carefully so as not to touch on any past losses of this much suffered young man.

Their conversation meandered back to the present and the incident itself now hung heavily above both men's heads. Feirha finally steeled his courage and spoke.

"Hawk, there are few men whom I would call friend, though I may offer service to many. You have been a friend to me and I hold that dear. You are also my liege and I have pledged to follow your orders without question. However, this thing needs to be spoken of, despite your pain."

Hawk sighed. "I know you are my friend, and I do appreciate it. I appreciate what everybody is trying to do, but it is too soon. I need time to grief, I don't know how long. With my wife it took me two years before I could move on."

"Hear me out please Hawk," Feirha responded with gentle firmness. "Were it any different I would gladly let you work through your grief in your own time, in your own way. But sadly there is no other way." The Priest-Knight sighed, a heavy, weary sigh, then continued.

"A murder was committed in this castle. In the Royal Suites themselves! *You* are at danger my friend." Again he waved patience at Hawk before he could interrupt. "I realise you care nothing for your personal safety at this time, but think of your country. They have only just won the king they all love and deserve. Your loss would cripple this country. But perhaps that does not concern you either. Think then of your family."

"How do you know that the people are happy? They loved my uncle, he was a great ruler. I did not want this, nor was I really raised for it. Maybe they would be better off with my father. Yet I cannot leave anymore, I have promised my little sister that I would stay. And believe me, I will do anything to keep them safe. I do not want anymore innocents dying because of me." He spoke with some heat finally.

Feirha tactfully ignored Hawk's self-doubt - such questions were typical of the man even when he was not in such a depressed mood. The knight pressed on with his hastily planned speech. "I knew the Lady Audrey only briefly but I do not believe she had an enemy in this world. Which means only one thing: That her terrible death was used to get at you. Perhaps it was a warning, perhaps a punishment, but it means that they may well strike again. I would ask your permission to investigate this terrible crime, and bring its perpetrator to justice before you have to suffer any more loss."

Why had he not thought of that. He had been so busy with his own grief that he had not even thought of finding those who have done this to Audrey. It made him feel very small that he had forgotten about vengeance. "If you could do that, I would be very grateful. I want whoever has done this punished. I want him brought before me, so that I can kill him with my own bare hands." Hawk's eyes flashed.

The sudden flush of violence caught Feirha by surprise. Hawk's words sounded more like revenge than justice, but the Priest-Knight could not deny that it was the man's right to face his tormentor. "Very well," he said quietly. "With your authority I shall conduct enquiries. Can you face recounting your own view of events?"

Hawk took a deep breath. "I will try." He hesitated again. Thinking of what happened that night was very painful for him. "We usually shared a room, mine. But I knew I would be working late that night, and she wanted to finish some work on herbs, so she decided to do that in her own room. I was finished a little sooner than I had feared, and I missed her. So I went over to her room." Tears filled his eyes. "She was... She was laying on the bed,... She was so cold... She must have been working till the end there was a black rose in her hands, although I do not know how she could use that in her potions... The look on her face..." He could not get any more out.

~A black rose?~ Feirha knew little of modern medicine, and also knew that Audrey was considered particularly skilled in this area, but he still found the thought of such an unnatural artifact more than a little suspicious. Also, the fact that she was killed in other than the king's room further indicated that Audrey was the intended target after all, and not just a semi-random opportunity killing, taken in place of the king himself. As he had told Hawk he found it difficult to believe that she had had enemies of her own, but it was very likely she had been targeted simply as someone close to the king.

He nodded slightly, as though acknowledging the information, nothing more, and continued cautiously; trying to find the right balance of dispassionate inquiry with gentle care. "Who else knew, or might conceivably have known, that Audrey had returned to her own rooms that night?"

Hawk had to think about that one for a little bit. "I don't know. My body guards, maybe my mother, maybe some off the people she worked with in the infirmary. She was a well liked person, and she saw a lot of people every day. I really cannot answer that for you," he said with regret.

Hawk pulled himself together. "I hope you can find who ever did this. If you need men, or means just come to me, and I will see to it that you get it. This will have the highest priority."

"I assure you Sire," Feirha replied formally to lend weight to his conviction, "on my word and my life, I will not rest until I have uncovered the cause and origin of this heinous crime and brought those responsible to justice."

"Thank you my friend. I am glad you are here, and doing this for me." The King said with tears in his eyes.

Feirha smiled at his friend and gripped his shoulder once, then left the room to let the king continue his private grieving. As soon as he had left the room he determined to seek out the bodyguard that had accompanied the king when Audrey's body had been discovered. The guard outside the door was not him, but using the password Hawk had given him, Feirha was able to gain directions, and a name, to the man he wanted.

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"I was hoping you could help me in a matter concerning the king's safety," Feirha opened to the outlander bodyguard.

The outlander Blaen raised a suspicious eyebrow at the question, but was otherwise silent. He resented the intrusion of the big knight into the guards' quarters.

"It concerns the murder of Lady Audrey. I believe you were there when the king discovered the body?" Feirha asked.

"Aye. I was assigned to protect the king that even'."

"I would very much appreciate your professional opinion of the method of her death," the knight continued, then as if to clarify, "how was she killed, and with what. Did you notice anything unusual?"

Blaen grunted in the affirmative, and stroked his short beard thoughtfully, replaying the scene of that evening in his head, "She'd been strangled by hand... though not quick like. Her body was limp, an' the killer took time enough to arrange it as in sleeping." Blaen stopped for a moment, tapping his head with a finger in thought. "Her hand held something... a ribbon? No... A quill? Yes that's it, a black quill or a raven's feather. Other than that nothing. We searched for sign of the attacker, but found only that he had left by the door and not the window." Blaen finished his description and lapsed back into a stony silence.

~A black feather now?~ Feirha pondered. He studied the face of the outlander and considered the options. He quickly concluded that it was not unlikely that Hawk had not been fully concentrating faced with the enormity of the tragedy. He would not dismiss either of course, but he would start enquiries about a black feather and which organisations might have such a symbol.

"Thank you Blaen," he said, "you have done the king and Royal Family a great service."

"Excuse me milady?" said Swithen, after Lady Morgan had returned to the Swan.

Morgan turned an imperious eye on the man. "Yes?"

"Beggin yer pardon, but there's a gentleman wishing to speak with ye." He nodded from behind the bar to one of the chairs near the fire. "He says 'he's patient and would return on the morrow if ye would wish to rest.'"

"Thank you." Morgan never put off till tomorrow issue that could be gotten rid of today.

The man in the chair was calmly watching the embers that glowed richly from the dying hearth, a metal goblet held gently in one hand over the armrest. As Lady Morgan approached, he stirred slowly without looking her way and got to his feet, a small gold cross swinging free and reflecting the firelight. A long brown robe could not hide the glint of crimson from underneath. "Lady Morgan," he said. "My name is Nwython."

"Milord, you know my name? I know nothing of you? How can I be of service?" She asked with a slight touch of concern.

Nwython examined the fair Lady Morgan for a moment. She was indeed quite a stunning creature, but he reminded himself that women of beauty who were also gifted with cunning, were vicious and devious opponents, who could manipulate the hearts and minds of foolish men at their will. So he hardened himself of emotion and put up all the walls he had. And smiled. A disarming, pleasant smile, guaranteed never to threaten or intimidate, but to relax and put one at ease. He gestured to a nearby seat. "When someone of your... nature," he began softly, "arrives at an inn such as this one, it does not take long for word to spread."

"My nature?" She sat down interested in where this was going. Her conversation this morning with the errant knight had been fruitful, perhaps this would be as well.

"Yes," replied Nwython, taking a seat. "I was merely referring to your countenance, my lady. That, and the fact that you are travelling alone, has created much interest. Do you wish something to drink?"

"A glass of wine would be pleasing. As for my traveling alone. I have my retainers, so I am not as alone as I appear." She said with a smile. "But I thank you for the compliment none the less."

From all the information that he had, there was virtually nothing about Lady Morgan, except some suggestion that she was linked to the Sect of Donn. It was an opportunity that could not be ignored, and he preferred to approach the source directly to determine it's validity. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But it was simply not possible to blurt everything out there and then. He expected Morgan to be coy about any association she may have, and she certainly would not volunteer him anything useful in the way of information. So he tried something blunt.

"If I may ask, Lady Morgan: are you a religious woman?"

"Depends on your definition of religion." She answered slowly. She accepted her wine from the serving woman and smiled at him. "I do not follow the teachings of this new one god at all, for example." Here was a dangerous man, she could sense it.

Her caution satisfied him for the moment, but also came as a warning not to push too hard. "Let me be more specific," he said, placing his goblet down onto a sidetable and entwining his fingers into his lap. "Do you believe strongly enough in something, that you would work very hard to promote your faith to others?"

"I believe only in myself and the ends to which I reach those means." She said with a lazy grin. "If that takes religion, then I suppose I would use that."

"Perfect!" he said. "Then I think we both may have a stake in what happens here in Abertawe." From Nwython's experience, it was always much more difficult to persuade the devout than those who worked for themselves. The Archdruid was a good case for the devout, but it appeared that the Lady had other, more personal agendas. "For my part, I care only that the people of this province are led away from the old ways and towards the doctrines and teachings of the one god, the true god. While I do not condone certain activities that elements of the old faith wish to pursue... neither do I wish to stop the influence that those activities have in persuading the population that there is a much 'nicer' alternative in the way of spiritual guidance." This all cutratherclose to the bone, but Nwython wanted to gauge her reaction.

Morgan's eyes narrowed in anger that she was hard put to contain. "Since I know nothing of your one god, I don't see what any of this has to do withme.Good day milord."She rose, her face flushed with her anger at his words.The last thing she wanted is to promote the weak one god.

Nwython got to his feet. "Good day to you, Lady Morgan." As she started to stalk away, he said "Oh one last thing. Should you or perhaps your... retainers, run into a knight by the name of Amyln... please give him my regards. I believe he mentioned something about travelling east to look into some rumours of a Sect. You can't miss him... he only has one arm." His face was stone, but his eyes held the slight glimmer of mirth. "Any assistance you may require in the future? Please don't hesitate to ask."

Morgan paused, this man knew more then he was letting on and she was fairly certain she had just played into his hand. She turned and smiled at him. "Since all my retainers are here with me in Alban, I doubt I would have any run into one who has gone East? I do not know what game you play milord, but I am not one easily trifled with."

"I do not play games, my lady. But neither do I seek to trifle with thee. I have travelled a great distance here, with duties that I have been entrusted with to complete. That is my priority, and I always seek to help those who further my aims, even should they do so inadvertantly or unknowingly." Nwython tilted his head to one side and clasped his hands in front of his body, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Perhaps you may know someone who who could use an ally. Perhaps you are aware of someone who is involved with all of this business with the Sect. Perhaps you might have contact with someone who would have much to gain by taking one of the King's knights and breaking them to their will. Perhaps... you may not. I do not know for sure one way or the other, but I am obliged to at least present a proposal... just in case."

Morgan was quiet for a long moment. She was not one to usually take allies. Allies had a way of betraying you when it was in their best interest. Her eyes assessed him shrewdly. "I doubt that a mere woman could break a knight to her will. But if I should hear of such an ally and IF you should prove yourself worthy of such a contact, I will be sure to forward that information. However, I guarantee that even if I were to know such a person, I would never discuss such things in a common tap room.

"Agreed," replied Nwython. "If you should get in touch with this person, then I will gladly arrange something more private. Or I shall yield to their own desires in this regard, as a gesture of trust." He ignored the doubt she expressed at being able to break a knight. Many a man had been brought to ruin by the manipulations of 'mere' women. He had a feeling she knew that already. "Ask for Tyngyr at court: he will be able to contact me."

Morgan nodded. She dropped a small curtsey and hurried upstairs. She would need to find out more about this new piece upon the board of play.

**Lotus Clan secret hideout**

"Moira we got a problem...rather you do," Bear started the forthcoming verbal battle with Renny's mother, the leader of the clan.

"What problem is there?" she asked, studying the map of the land more closely with a magnifying glass.

Bear shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like this anymore then he liked telling Renny the news. "Well Renny didn't take your news that Sparrow wasn't allowed on the mission too well. Not well at all actually. She said something about knowing something you don't want her to know." Bear finished reluctantly.

Moira froze, immediately jumping to the conclusion that Renny knew her true birthright. "She couldn't have found out..." Moira whispered. "What else did she say?" Moira demanded, leaping over the wood table easily to grasp Bear by the collar.

She barely reached his shoulder, and he easily outweighted her by a hundred, but her grip was firm. Bear also knew that those scars on her arms and cheeks weren't from cat fights. &"Nothing!I swear it!" Bear gasped, staggering back when she released him.

Moira's smiled, albeit grimly. "She still hasn't learned to lie that well."

"Eh?"

"She was bluffing, trying to throw me off. Wouldn't I know my own child by now? Go. I'm busy." Moira said, returning to her previous work.

Without needing further words, Bear hurried out of the tent.

**at castle, Renny's chambers**

After the walk through the gardens, the short talk with the King and some scheming to see Sparrow, Renny was tired. She decided to do what alot of ladies in her supposed position enjoyed--napping for no reason.

Lying her head down, Renny sighed drowsily and let herself drift. Normally she had dreams of power, ruling and Sparrow, but instead she saw a face she didn't recognize.

He seemed to be familar, but Renny couldn't place him. He was handsome, in a clean cut sort of way, with light hair, blue eyes and a promising build. He looked no more then fifteen.

He faded away to be replaced by a much older man. Gray haired, tan weathered face and many creases in his face. In her dream Renny saw herself younger, reaching out to him, but he slowly moved off. Her mother's face, multi-scarred and somewhat irregular, appeared out of nowhere saying 'You are my daughter.You are mine alone.'

Screaming, Renny woke up in a cold sweat, scared for no reason and depressed beyond reason.

Lady Morgan was still waiting about court for either this Sanglet to appear or even the King. She stood in the long galley looking at the pictures of previous Kings. This Kingdom had a cleaner feel then Dinas Dwr, less intrigue, less mystique other then the murder of the King's mistress. She had not done that deed but thought it a coup for who ever had planned it for none had been accused as yet. She had only recently arrived in the city so knew she was far from suspicion. Today her long hair was only loosly held by a piece of matching cloth. Her dress was a matched wool of a deep green. Around her waist a matching belt laced with gold was tied to give her form. Her maid walked slowly behind her making sure to keep the required four steps distance.

Hawk had just returned from another walk in the garden, that gave him some piece of mind. He walked with his head bowed, like he often did lately. So he nearly walked into the lady. "My humble apologies, my lady." He murmered, and then made ready to move on.

"Your Highness," Morgan dropped a deep bow. He may not recognize her, but she knew him. It was the knight Feirha she needed to avoid. Why they had not met, she was fairly sure he had seen her once. "I had hoped to run into you.

I bring news from Dinas Dwr."

"My lady?" Hawk said a little puzzled, he had lived in dinas dwr for almost a year, and this lady seemed somewhat familiar, yet he could not place her.

"King Arrian has not found any trace of Queen Gwyn. He has announced her death as it has been some time and has been crowned King. He married Alanis Darath and they are expecting a child." She said with a smile.

Hawk bowed his head. He had given her up months ago, yet he still mourned his cousin. She died too young. "I am glad that he is happy. "He had met the lady Alanis and liked her. She would be a good match for his old friend. "But tell me my lady, is that all that brings you here?"

"No, just bringing the tidings since I am here. KIng Arrian would wish to visit when you have settled things in. However, I am here to settle. My husband died leaving me well pursed and I wished a fresh start. Lord Sanglet is looking into property for me." She said sweetly.

"I would be more than willing to have Arrian here as a guest, but not before things quiet down. " he said. "My lady, what to makes you want to leave Dinas Dwr and settle in a strange country?" He asked.

Morgan's eyes misted with tears. "I recently lost my husband. I.. I could not face the familiar sites of home and hearth. I felt the need for a change

of that which was about me." She looked at him, true pain evident in her eyes. For it was a fact that her beloved had been rudely taken from her as had two of her sons. The remaining boy was her pride and joy and was never far from her except on such excursions to the castle.

That was something that Hawk could understand. It was what he wanted to do, to run away, to where nothing reminded him off Audrey. Only he couldn't do it. "I understand, my lady." He said softly. "You are welcome here. And if there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to let me know." He finished kindly.

"Thank you, your majesty, that is quite generous of you." She dropped a respectful curtsey. "And I offer the same."

He smiled. Hawk did not want to be impolite, but right now being around women made him very uncomfortable. "thank you, my lady."

She smiled. "With your permission, your Majesty, it is time for my appointment with the Earl." She dropped a curtsey and backed away a respectful distance. When there was no sign for her to wait, she turned and left the man to his distractions.

Seth had woken and not stirred his sleeping beauty. He went out and bought a dozen roses and had fresh breakfast waiting for her as well as milk, and freshly squeezed orange juice if she wanted it. There were fruits, eggs, and tubers with her breakfast. He set the roses directly on her chest and said,"Wake up my lady and love."

Bronwen woke up and smiled at him. "You have been busy. She had not changed and still wore the dress she had fallen asleep in. She sat up, stiff from the days riding.

He smiled and said,"You deserve only the best. How are you feeling?" He stared into her eyes sending love and genuine concern and interest.

"I am fine." Bronwen swung her legs off the lumpy mattress. She wasn't sure what was worse, the day on a horse or the night on the mattress. In truth, she knew she had slept like the dead.

Seth smiled and said,"Well, as you can see I have a grand assortment of breakfast and drinks for you my love. Would you like to eat in bed maybe?" Seth was spoiling her a bit, at least in his eyes. He hoped he could be found unpredictable in such things. It would make him happy just that Bronwen would be happy.

Bronwen smiled. Her eyes fell to the rich assortment of foods. She shook her head vigorously, putting her hand over her mouth. "I don't think I could eat right now." She admitted.

Seth's smiled stayed and said,"That's fine. The fruit will stay for a while and maybe you can drink something at least?" he wasn't forcing, but suggesting she at least get something on her stomach for breakfast.

"Maybe a piece of bread." She had found the last week that the illness seemed to pass once she was up and about. "How much further?"

Seth smiled and said,"You an hour's ride maybe alittle more. I promise we'll be there soon. Are you ready to go?"

"If we are close. I would like to change. into something more bridal?" She looked at him, hoping he would understand.

Seth nodded and asked,"Did you bring something or did you wish to pick something up around here?" he was being sincere in his question, because either way he would leave her be for a short while.

Bronwen blushed lightly. "I brought something." She said shyly. It was hard to believe that in a few hours she would be married to this man.

Seth smiled and asked,"Did you wish for me to leave or to help you into it my love?" He smiled warmly and kissed her lightly at the sight of her blush.

"I wish to surprise you." She pushed him slowly from the room. "There will be time enough for helping later." She blushed even deeper. Once she had him out she dug the white kirtle with the golden underdress from her bags. Her stomach recoiled from the site of the eggs and she was forced to cover them with a cloth for fear of being ill. She changed and quickly braided the matching white ribbons into her long hair. It did not take her long before the door opened once again. She looked at Seth worriedly. "I know it its simple, but in a saddle bag I dare not bring something more grand?"

Seth looked upon her and unconsciously a wide grin came upon his face and said,"You are beautiful. You look absolutely wonderful in it. I love you and it looks grand to me." He was being completely honest and she would be able to see it.

"I am ready." She wasn't. Every bone her body was screaming that this was wrong. Her mother should be here, her dad and siblings too. Why had she chosen this way. Then her eyes met his and her heart fluttered. She loved him and she knew there was no other way.

He smiled warmly and said,"Then let us make our pre-matrimonial journey." He smirked and helped her up onto her horse and lept up to his and said,"We'll be there soon my love. I promise." He looked into her eyes as they started out.

Bronwen was quiet for the remaining journey. It seemed as if all was going to easy. Only the strange confrontation with Sanglet the night before. Something was amiss, she could sense it.

Armed with very little in the way of leads Feirha had questioned senior palace staff and higher ranking officers seeking out any information regarding black feathers and black roses. No-one knew anything about black roses, but several sources told of a secretive sect to the god Donn whose symbol had become the raven - a common symbol of death - which was fitting considering that god's domain.

Naturally this discovery bred further enquiry on the nature of this sect, but here reports became much less clear. Feirha's upbringing as a devout follower of the One God left his knowledge of the ancient gods less than most and if the Arch-Druid had not been away on some secret business of his own he would have been the obvious place to turn for information. However, filtering out many of the wilder accusations placed at the door of the sect of Donn, various common threads again seemed to form.

People, even whole families on occasion, have been vanishing all around Abertawe. Not in great numbers, but enough for people to begin noticing. Black feathers had been found at each occurrence. Lord Alterian himself is rumoured to have taken an interest in the sect.

"Sir Josiah Feirha, Knight of the Crest of Pearl. I wish to see Lord Alterian on the king's authority." Feirha announced to the page on duty. The lad bobbed his head and dashed off on his errand. Scant minutes later the young attendant returned.

"Lord Alterian will see you immediately my lord," he said.

"Thank you," Feirha replied and smiled to the boy.

----------

"My Lord Alterian," Feirha began formally, "I regret that our first meeting is not under better circumstances, but I have some serious questions I have to ask of you."

Alterian's eyes narrowed. "I see. Well, I am at your disposal."

"I have vowed to investigate and bring justice to the recent death of the Lady Audrey," he replied without preamble. "King Gwalchmai has promised his full support," he added in case such weight was needed.

"Of Course, Milord. The King has made it clear that you are to be given the utmost leave." He said with a bow. He indicated a chair if the knight wished to sit.

The priest-knight nodded his thanks and took the offer seat. "I have reason to believe that the so called sect of Donn may be involved in the murder. I further understand that you have taken a recent interest in this sect?"

"Yes, the sect is blamed for a number of disappearances. It is said that a new priestess had taken over the sect and while they have always worshipped the God of Death, they now sacrifice humans to him. Several bodies have been found in the bogs. Many strangled and left with all their possessions." Alterian looked at him with a frown. "The children from the families have never been found."

"In every case was found a black feather, correct?" Feirha postulated, "most probably that of a raven?"

"Actually, that is correct. What little information we have includes the feather and the fact that the Sect is ran by a woman known only as Raven." Alterian frowned.

Feirha nodded. "The same that was found in Lady Audrey's hands. However, what have just told me is interesting. It seems as though in all other cases the victim was removed from their home. Why then, would Lady Audrey be left in her room?"

"It is possible the killing was made to appear like the Raven or, the killer knew he could not remove her without discovery. I have a list of people who were adamant in their desire to prevent a royal marriage to a commoner as well." Alterian said in a grim tone. "It is possible that someone seeking to have a daughter made queen would benefit by her removal."

Feirha's eyes widened slightly and he nodded more enthusiastically this time. "The first two had occurred to me, but not the latter. Would someone really go to such lengths to gain such an opportunity?" His tone revealed the question was purely rhetorical, further proved as he answered it quickly after. "Of course they would! Now that brings up another question Who would have the resources, and disposition, to carry out such a task? Poison would be the typical weapon of choice in such machinations I am sure, but this person knew of this raven sect and wanted to divert suspicion towards them - thus away from themselves. To sneak into - or through - the castle, strangle a royal guest and then depart unnoticed would take a certain skill that would likely have to be hired in. Who do you know who would provide such 'specialist' services?"

Alterian smiled and walked to his desk. He picked up a parchment and returned to hand it to Feirha. "I have already researched means, temperament and motive. Here is the list I have narrowed it too. I am afraid I can not narrow it further. There are seventeen names on the list. I hope it helps you."

Distracted by thought of the number of suspects, and Alterian's apparent efficiency, Feirha did not notice his second question had gone unanswered. He flicked his glance down the list and knew none of those named, at least no more than by position.

"Thank you my lord," Feirha eventually replied, "this is most impressive. I only wonder where now, to start." and his attention once more wandered slightly back to the ever more daunting task ahead of him.

Snapping back suddenly the Priest-Knight stood quickly. "I should get started as soon as possible. Thank you for your time and your help."

"Of course, I and my retainers are at your disposal, milord." Alterian bowed.

He bowed his head to Alterian and left.

Within moments of their departure, two of the king's guards came up on horseback riding hard and calling for Seth. A discussion followed between the men and Seth took off without saying a word to his new travelling companions.

The two guards dismounted and walked towards the party. The first guard had blonde hair and stood near six feet. He carried a sheathed londsword at his side. The second guard stood around five feet ten inches with black hair and broad, thick shoulders. The first guard spoke up, "I am Brendan and this here is Mical, we've been sent to replace Seth who was called back to the castle. We were told to report to Sir Gwilym. Just a minute ago, we passed a few dead bodies and a grave. I hope you are all alright."

Dame Quarra was vaguely aware of one of the children standing next to her. It was Cynwal. "Who is Laerme?" he said bluntly.

Quarra turned towards him, and smiled, "Laerme is a local diety to my home town of Eire. She is the goddess of fire, art, beauty, love, and innocence in that area. As she is a local diety I am sure that you have other questions about her."

"I do," he agreed. "Does she care if you do not mourn those who fight and die on your behalf?" His tone of speech held anger and distaste, while the look in his eyes was accusatory.

Quarra looked at the ground. "I do not have time to mourn him. Yet. If I mourn him now, I will not have the strength to protect you from what powers of evil seek us out. From what little I know, he was a good man. And you should strive to be like him. But I did not know him that well. To answer your question, she would want me to mourn for the innocence lost today. And the man who had beauty of the soul."

It was a poignant answer that stymied Cynwal. "I... I was not talking about Father Niddian," he stammered, gathering his composure. "I meant the guard, who was killed by the blow of an attacker's axe. He died, yet neither you nor your companions thought to stop and at least consider the measure of his life."

Quarra pondered that for a moment, "I had not even noticed the guard before now." She looked at the ground. "I wish I had. I would have asked that he be properly buried. Or at least taken with us. I had not seen him. I guess I am as guilty of that as anyone. I have missed a golden chance to do good. I fear I am not worthy of my goddess's call."

Cynwal said nothing but shuffled uneasily on the spot, appearing guilty. "I did not wish to cause you such distress," he said. "I thought it to be cruel savagery that no-one seemed to care for that man's soul. Father Niddian always said that to 'ignore the dead or dying is to be ignored when our own time comes upon us'. We all miss him very much."

Quarra nodded, her eyes wet, "I had been taught the same thing, too. And yes, I know you miss him greatly. He was of a good spirit, and cared for you all. I wish I had had that kind of care when I was a child. But I did not. Until I got to be a squire. And that was much later."

Cynwal said nothing. Things had somehow turned personal, and it was not really his place to intrude deeper. Instead, he turned away from Quarra and went back to the children, somewhat confused.

Annest came up to him, tired and weeping. "I want to go home..." she mumbled, still in shock at seeing Father Niddian murdered.

"Hush," he replied, taking her away by the arm to one side. "We cannot, sister."

"I'm scared! I don't like this place, and I don't know where we are going!"

"We are all scared." Cynwal said. "But Father said there was no turning back. We will return home when it is safe to do so." His voice was hard and commanding. "Trust in your faith: we will be protected from evil with that."

"F-father is g-going t-t-t die!-" Annest sobbed.

Cynwal took out Niddian's cross from his pocket and placed it over her head. It hung down to her waist, and he picked up the cross and slipped it inside her coat. "Wear this and pray," he said simply, holding her tightly so that she could feel reassured.

After her cries had subsided, he released her and they both returned to the rest of the children. All had the smell of fear upon them, like a herd of sheep that could see the approaching wolf. He lifted his head as he had seen his father do many times, and looked hard at them, trying his best to look as if all the blood had had no effect upon him. He would have to be the shepherd now, for Niddian was dead. "No matter what happens," he said firmly, "I will not allow any one of you to come to harm. Our time here is temporary, and we will all return home soon to our families. Do not despair, do not lose hope, and most of all, do not lose faith." And after that, he could say no more. While still upset, the flock began to prepare themselves to move again. Cynwal was relieved, and glad that the group remained strong in the face of such violence.

Justin continued to scout the area as they neared the cave. A few times the party had come to a halt and was dead silent from noises heard in the forest only to find a dear or other woodland creature. The journey was uneventful and quick and, as night fell on the second day of their trip, Justin came back with good news of the cave.

"There are no tracks around the cave indicating there hasn't been a presence here in quite some time. Let's go," and led them to the entrance. The cave was dry and faced to the northwest blocking the wind that rolled over the hills from the east. It was a deep cave with a small entrance, which could be easily protected by just a few men. In no time at all, the children were inside and a fire was roaring as everyone helped prepare a dinner meal. Brendan and Mical stood watch at the entrance.

Justin went over to Reys to see how he was holding up from the wound. It had taken a bit to help the man off of his horse and get him into the cave. Both of them watched Avalynn for a moment. Many of the little girls had taken an instant liking to Avalynn and she looked like a mother run ragged from having too many kids. Justin looked back to Reys, "How is your leg holding up? I know you wanted to go get help the moment we hit the cave. The choice is yours when you want to leave. Let me know when you're ready and I'll help you to your horse."

Avalynn did not want to leave the children, but the wound in Reys' leg was more serious than she first thought. The journey to the cave only exacerbated the injury. He had been trying to be manly and apologetic about the whole thing, but she had seen through through his little charade and now held some concern for his health. Overhearing Justin speak to Reys, she interrupted his reply quickly. "I do not wish to agree with you, Justin, but I think Reys' leg needs to be attended to. I don't want to go either, but perhaps we can take back some word of what has happened."

Reys shot a glance at Avalynn as Justin began a reply, "Milady, I don't find it wise that you leave the children. You're the one the look to now that Father Niddian has passed on. But these are trouble times," Reys moved his attacking stare onto Justin, "and we don't have protocol for such situations. I don't see how you being here or being gone will help us if we are forced to fight another twelve men. Hurry back with help.

"We will rest tonight, and leave first thing before dawn." She cast a rough glare at Reys as he began to protest. "I will move our belongings near the mouth of the cave so there will be no disturbance on our departure."

Reys slammed his hand into the ground with a very loud thud while holding his gaze on hers. Inside he knew he couldn't do it alone, though. "Aye," he lowered his head as if in defeat, "get some rest Ava. Tis time Dame Quarra took over responsibilities of the kids.

Dame Quarra moved past them at this time. "Are you all right, sir?" she asked. "If you two leave, how will I take care of the children?"

"I think you will do a wonderful job," said Avalynn. "Just be yourself and treat them firmly but kindly. Who knows, you may find yourself a calling here."

Dame Quarra nodded, "I will try to do what I can. But I am only one small woman. I am not all that well known on how to care for children. And I fear some of them hate me."

She smiled warmly at Quarra and held her hand firmly for a few moments, before letting go and helping Reys to the front of the cave.

When the morning light came in through the cave entrance, Reys and Avalynn were nowhere to be seen. Justin watched Quarra hop around from child to child trying to get things in order. She looked stressed already, but he could tell she was a natural. She had help from Cynwal as he stepped forward to talk charge of the children. Mical stood watch at the entrance and Brendan was preparing the food. Justin whispered a small prayer to the gods, 'protect these children and make haste with Reys and Avalynn.'

Reys and Avalynn began the two-day journey from the cave. Justin told them of a hunting path that would last for a day before catching the main road into Abertawe. They road hard and Reys leg was in terrible shape. Avalynn cursed under her breath for there were signs of infection in Reys wound. She feared that even at there pace, he would still lose the leg by the time they reached Abertawe and made it to the doctor.

About three hours outside of the main gate, the two could hear a number of horses approaching. They immediately removed themselves from the road to observe the passerby's.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Gwilym led Eli and Quillan's group down the main road. They road at a decent pace but not so fast that Gwilym couldn't explain the chain of events that brought them here.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Avalynn couldn't believe her eyes. Gwilym was leading a group of men down the main road. Ava was ecstatic. Gwilym was alive! She nudged the horse a bit and went out into the road. Reys shook his head in disbelief at the sight of Gwilym and followed.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Gwilym brought the company to an immediate halt as the riders came from the forest into the road. Gwilym's first response was to grab his weapon, but the two raised their hands to indicate no combat was intended. It took him a moment for his eyes to send the information to his brain, but he realized that Ava and Reys were seated a top horses in front of him.

Gwilym began to laugh and dismounted. He rushed over and gave Ava who dismounted as well, a huge hug. He then walked over and shook Reys hand. Looking at Reys leg, Gwilym couldn't help but wince. "It looks bad, Reys. Did it happen at the ambush?"

Reys shook his head then stared at his leg. "I fear I may lose it."

Quillan let out a loud cough to grab Gwilym's attention, "This is a nice meeting and all, but we do have business to attend to."

Eli looked quizzically at Quillan's large interest in these children. He knew Quillan well and his only interest usually centered on money. What was Urianus paying him for?

Gwilym shot a harsh stare at Quillan, "These two were with me when the ambush occurred. They were part of the protection. That makes them BUSINESS! I lead this expedition, so hold your tongue!" Gwilym found this man to be extremely rude. They hadn't mixed from the moment they met. Gwilym's friend Cedric began to chuckle, which got him a sinister stare from Quillan.

"Are you going after the children then, Gwilym?" Ava asked looking over at the group.

"Aye, lady, these scouts were going to help me find the trail you and the children would have made." Gwilym's voice shook as he spoke, "They are alive, right?"

Ava smiled at Gwilym, "Yes sir knight, the kids were taken to a cave in the hills a day and a half's ride from here. Justin took us there. He thought it would be an easier spot to protect them until they could get help, which is what we are doing." Ava's eyes locked onto Gwilym's, "I am happy to see you're alive, what happened?"

Gwilym moved his hand to his wound on the back of his head instinctively, "To make a long story short, I was hit in the back of the head and knocked unconscious. When I awoke, there were bodies everywhere but no children. Guards were coming down the road as I searched, and escorted me back to the castle to Alterian's office. We had a discussion and now here we are." Eli laughed at this quick explanation but quieted himself immediately.

Ava nodded at Gwilym, "We can discuss it when everyone is safe and sound at the castle. We are going to get an escort for the children."

Quillan quickly interrupted, "We can escort the children back safely, if you wish to show us the way?" Quiilan smiled at Ava but he just looked evil.

Ava looked towards Quillan, "Sir, there are at least two there groups of men looking to kill these children at first sight. The eight of you are not enough."

Gwilym intervened, "Ava, Reys, go swiftly to Alterian's office. He'll gather the necessary men. Please tell us the way, first?"

Quillan whispered to his men then turned towards Gwilym, "Sir, Duke," he said with sarcasm, which caused an immediate glance from Ava towards Gwilym, "we know the way to this cave she speaks of. I wish to send three of my men back to inform Master Urianus."

Ava glanced at Quillan with shock in her eyes but immediately turned away. Urianus, that name was all too familiar. She feared say something for Gwilym was clearly outnumbered. She turned to Reys who already had the same thoughts from the expression on his face. Ava reached into her pocket and crumbled the note. She then reached out her hands to hold Gwilym's. As she places the crumbled piece of paper in Gwilym's hand, she pulled him forward and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, "You are in danger, my new friend. Be careful with your company." She kissed his cheek one more time and looked into his eyes with sorrow.

Gwilym put up a little smile, "Always," he said in response. "I will see you at the castle," he said, more as a statement than as a question. He helped her onto her horse then shook Reys hand one more time, "Take care of her and your leg as well." He looked up at Reys who looked back at him through warrior's eyes. Gwilym knew that Reys would die protecting her.

Reys, Ava, and the three men sent back by Quillan left with haste towards the castle. Gwilym climbed back in his saddle and motioned with his hand for the men to continue. Quillan moved to the front and led the way to the cave.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

About an hour after they had left Gwilym, one of the men left the road and disappeared into the woods. Confused by this action, Ava asked, "Where is that man going?"

One of the other two men spoke up, "He his going to Urianus' other house in case he is not within the castle when we get there."

Ava looked to Reys for moral support who nodded to her that everything would be all right. With Reys and Ava in front, the two men tried to quietly unsheath their swords. Reys was no fool. He held steady with his hand on his pummel and waited for the right moment.

The riders slowly made it next to Reys who had positioned himself between the men and Ava. Reys was hurt but he reacted first. Reys withdrew his blade the moment one of the men was next to him impaling the longsword into the man's chest. "Ride … Ava … As fast as the horse will carry you!" He yelled.

The other man was quick to react as well. He slashed his blade across Reys side under his arm. A huge gash deep enough to let the air out of his lung as it collapsed. Reys released his sword and fell from his horse. The rider then took chase with Avalynn.

Reys, in terrible pain, go to his feet. His mind was darkening and his only thought lie in saving Ava. He grabbed the crossbow from the side of the dead rider's horse and leaned across the backside of the horse for support as he took aim.

Ava rode with fear in her mind. She could tell the other rider was catching her. She had heard Reys scream and knew he was dead. She held back the tears for fear of her own life. "Gods take Reys to the heavens" she quickly prayed then kicked the side of her horse to try and drive it faster.

It didn't help. she could feel the rider at her heels. He reached out to try and grab her. Ava lowered her shoulders just out of reach to the rider, and she could hear him curse. Within seconds, though, she could feel his hands on her back. He hand was upon her but he couldn't get a grip.

Reys looked up to the sky, "Oh great god of protection. I need you in this time of despair. Take my life. I give it to you freely, but let this quarrel fly straight. Protect these children in this time of need." Reys took aim and squeezed the trigger then fell to the ground, dead before the quarrel could reach its target.

Ava screamed at the feeling of this man's hand upon her. With one last reach of desperation, he grabbed a hold of her cloak. She felt herself get pulled back and then fell to the ground. She shook her head to regroup then looked around. The other rider lay five feet from her side, but he didn't move. A quarrel protruded from his back.

"Thank you Reys, I love you," she said as she looked up to the sky. Ava mounted her horse and rode towards the castle with tears rolling down her face.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Gwilym waited a bit then open the crumbled piece of paper given to him by Ava:

Cort,

Gwilym will be leading these children down the road. Find them. I want them all dead except for Gwilym. I have sent out two other teams of twelve as well. Do not ruin my plans. The king will suffer. Make haste. Report back to me the moment you are done. You know the place.

Urianus

Gwilym looked at Quillan the second he read the note. Quillan saw the fear in Gwilym's eyes, "NOW!" he yelled realizing he was caught. Before any of the men could reach out to Gwilym, Eli leapt from his saddle and grabbed Gwilym, both of them rolling to the ground. Eli and Gwilym quickly regained their feet.

Gwilym stared down the other three riders who dismounted and withdrew their swords. Gwilym's heart was pierced at the thought of this deception from his old friend, Cedric. They fought the war together in Mor Hafren and had become the best of friends. It was Cedric who convinced him to move to Abertawe. "Why?" Gwilym asked with pain in his voice.

_-_-_-_

Eli faced Quillan who had unsaddled and drawn two curved short swords. "I always wondered who was better, Quillan. How well can you kill someone, when you are facing them instead of standing behind them?" Eli asked as he withdrew his longsword and parrying sword.

Quillan smiled, "You still accusing me of those murders? None of them were proven. This one won't be either," and Quillan lunged at Eli.

It was a dance. A magnificent dance between the two men. Attack … thrust … parry … block … as if they were moving to an orchestra. Neither could find a weakness nor gain ground on the other. Moments passed and neither let up. Eli went offensive then gave ground defensively then went back on the offensive. Back and forth they fought each appearing to be the other's equal.

Then Eli had an idea as he went defensive. He started faking deep breaths making Quillan think he was getting tired. Quillan fell for the bait and came in strong, "Alterian's lackey is getting tired. Come, puppet, dance with me." Quillan's confidence grew.

Eli faked losing his footing and exposed his upper arm to Quillan's blade. It was a small wound for he turned in just the right way to only get nicked. Then Eli left himself open. Quillan fell prey again with his confidence glaring across his face. He came into Eli with a huge smile and both blades extended. Eli bent backwards like a limb extended in the wind. Quillan's blades swung above him. Eli then thrust upward with his longsword as he rolled to the ground. Eli's blade slid in from under Quillan's chin and extending out of the back of his skull.

Eli stood up and removed his longsword, "You've been executed for your crimes," and spat on Quillan before turning to check on Gwilym.

_-_-_-_

Cedric couldn't look into Gwilym's eyes. He shook his head as the other two moved in on Gwilym. Gwilym Parried with his claymore but knew he could not withstand three opponents with such a weapon. Cedric, though, did not attack. Gwilym felt a little at ease from this. Gwilym lifted his claymore horizontally above his head to parry but, instead of staying defensive, he leaned forward and spun under the blade of the first assailant. His claymore slashed across the second man as he continued his spin. The first man turned just as his comrad hit the ground.

Feeling safe from Cedric, Gwilym turned towards the first attacker. "Feel like running?" He asked as he glanced over at the dance between Eli and Quillan.

The attacker glanced at the fight with his master then turned towards Cedric, "Your sister will die if Quillan's body hits the floor."

Cedric, with tears in his eyes, said, "sorry, friend, I must." And came towards Gwilym.

Gwilym realized how Cedric got into this situation. It was sad for it was just one month ago that Gwilym, Cedric, and Bethan (Cedric's sister) were sitting in her bar and laughing over a bottle of wine. Gwilym parried with everything he had for he couldn't find it in himself to kill his dear friend.

"Cedric, we can get through this together, " Gwilym pleaded.

Cedric fought with fury. He knew he could not defeat Gwilym, but Gwilym didn't go offensive. "There are too many of them, Gwilym, and Urianus has a stronghold on them all. Even if we got through this, we could not kill the rest before he put a blade to Beth's neck." Cedric picked up the pace. He did not wish to kill Gwilym instead he hoped Gwilym ended his life quickly.

Cedric left him self open on many occasions but Gwilym could not find it in himself to move in. "Cedric, we have the help of the King. Urianus' body will hit the floor before your sister is killed. I swear it!"

The attacker then came forward to fight along side Cedric. "Your sister will die if we do not return in one day," he said, "and the forfeit of your life will only forfeit hers as well."

"NO!" Cedric screamed and picked up the attack. Gwilym could not hold off the two of them and eventually slipped to the ground. His claymore landing a few feet away. Cedric had death in his eyes.

"Friend, take me quickly," and Gwilym bowed his head in defeat

Cedric could only sigh, "Goodbye Gwilym," But instead of finishing Gwilym, Cedric turned and let the assailant's blade enter him through his gut.

"No!" Gwilym shouted and moved to get his Claymore. By the time he had reached it, the assailant had already thrown Cedric aside. Gwilym was still on the ground as the man came at him with his sword raised above his head to bring it down across Gwilym. As the assault came right above Gwilym, the man came to a halt as if he had run into a wall and then fell. A dagger hilt shined in the sunlight as it rested in the man's back.

Gwilym sighed as Eli came over to help him up. Gwilym then ran to Cedric's side, "What can I do Cedric, tell me?"

"Save my sister as you swore to me earlier. They used her to make me get close to you so you wouldn't suspect anything. I'm sorry. Forgive me?" Cedric's body then went limp.

Gwilym held him close, "I will save her and I will get revenge."

Eli walked away for a moment to give Gwilym a small amount of grieving time. He walked back over towards Gwilym who still held Cedric, "I do not wish to replace your friend, but when we get through this, If you ever call on me, I'll be there."

Gwilym sighed and laid Cedric to the ground, "I thank you for your offer. Let's get through this first."

The two saddle up, "I know the way, Gwilym, follow me," and headed for the cave.

Morgan was hungry. Her late night studies were finished and she was expecting a report from the manor within the day. She went downstairs to the noisy tap room for a meal and drink. She did not plan to eat it there but her maid was on an errand and there was no one to fetch it for her.

Gwynne was sitting by himself, two empty pitchers on the table and a full goblet of ale in his hand. He also had just received a full pitcher from one of the serving wenches. Gwynne was a quiet drunk and he could hold his liquor pretty well.

His eyes discretely noticed a beautiful blonde woman coming from the upstairs inn, her beauty seemed to be unparalleled and his eyes were transfixed by her. It was times like these when he wished he wasn't so shy and introverted, but his eyes never left her from the time she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He drank well as he watched, getting his goblet to half-full.

Morgan's eyes took in the inn's patrons. Most were nondescript. But in the corner, a man of striking looks was watching her. Morgan was used to being watched, but his gaze was relentless. She pushed her long hair back over her shoulder and smiled at him. If she weren't here on business with a distinct image to show, she would play for a bit. But there was much to be done. She placed her order with the man at the bar. The Inn was busy so rather then wait till someone could be freed to bring her food, she decided to wait. She took a tankard of ale and approached the man. "It is considered impolite to stare, milord."

Gwynne smiled shyly, not sure what to say to one of the most beautiful creatures he'd ever seen. "Forgive me milady," he slurred the few words he spoke. "Never seen a lady so beautiful," he told her, his words still slurred. He'd been drinking a lot throughout the night.

"Then you do not get out much milord or maybe it is that you are in your cups." She said with a slight laugh.

"I have seen much of the world milady, and I assure you, a creature more beautiful, I've never seen," he pleasantly raised his glass to her and finished off the rest of the ale in the goblet.

He then took the pitcher in hand and poured another goblet full. "I am indeed in my cups, but it does not effect my judgment of beauty and nature," he smiled, his words still slurred, he seemed to swerve a little when he moved. Poor Gwynne could probably not even stand up.

Gwynne had no clue what to say to such a lady, but he was happy she had spoken to him. Now he hoped that he would be able to keep the lasses attention.

Morgan sat down, "So what makes a gentleman so refined drink himself to oblivion in a public house?"

"My name is Sir Gwynne Hawley, and I have been stuck too long in my small chambers reading and practicing. What else is a knight of the realm to do but drink and train?" Gwynne smiled, taking another gulp of ale. He didn't feel comfortable telling the lass why he was really drinking. But, the torment in Gwynne's lonely eyes was not well hidden.

"I am sure you can find some damsel in need of your escort and protection." She teased. She looked at the bar to see if her food was ready but the man was busy separating two men intent on each other.

"Escort and protection you say lass? And would ye be that damsel?" Gwynne asked, it seemed as if only mere seconds went by between the Knight's gulps of ale.

Morgan took his pitcher of ale and dumped it on the floor. "Do you now know, sirrah, that drinking yourself senseless in the company of a lady is very unchilvaric? Or perhaps, you do not see me as a lady," She taunted.

"I am deeply sorry milady, the ale is all that seems to dull my senses. Being senseless for a time is a great escape, tis not a reflection upon your ladyhood. Indeed, your ladyship should never be questioned and I would best anyone who put it in jeopardy," he bowed his head to her in respect and forgiveness. "However milady, you do owe me five farthlings for that pitcher, it's all that soothes what ails me," he told her, he was almost in tears as he watched the liquid flow down into a small crevice underneath the floor.

"Life is too short to be spent moping about for what might have been. I will leave you to your cups, I am sure that I can find a man more worthy of my company." She stood and tossed a silver piece upon the table. "May your morning be as senseless as your evening." She walked off.

This wouldn't do, the prettiest lass he'd ever seen and she walked away from him? Gwynne steadied himself against the table and pushed himself up onto his feet. He wobbled and swerved, but did his best to make it to her. As he stood behind her, he wobbled back and forth and smiled, "Milashee, my apoloshies for my slight, I shall drink whatever thou wishes and try to make your evening a pleasant one," Gwynne said, his slur getting decidedly much worse. And he could barely stand. He handed her back her silver piece, hoping she would return to his table. She beckoned to the barkeep and whispered in his ear. The barkeep smiled back and nodded. Morgan turned back to the drunken noble. "Okay, but first, I think you should sober up. Come with me." She led the way outside the public room to the fresh air outside.

Gwynne followed the lass, the ale clouding his already suspect vision, he barely reached the door. Once outside his eyes had trouble adjusting to the darkness of the night. "Milashee?" he called out, trying to find where she'd gone. Gwynne would remember none of this in the morning.

"Right here." She called quietly. She was about ten feet in front of him. When he approached, she stepped to the other side of the troth. "The fresh air will do you good." As he moved forward she nodded to the two men who stepped out behind him. A sharp push landed Gwynne in the cold horse trough.

"Eeeeeoooooooowwwwww!" came a loud, baritone scream. He didn't even see the trough, his eyes hadn't adjusted yet to the darkness. He was absolutely soaked from head to toe. Even his sword was wet. "Eeeeooowww," he said again sitting up in the trough, not at all happy. "Whatever did ye do that for milady? Now I'm all wet," he asked in reply, trying to stand up and shuddering from the cold water.

"Yes, but you can speak now." She said with a laugh. She leaned over and laid a kiss upon his lips. "Maybe even sober enough to learn a lesson, or at least remember that." She turned and flounced back into the inn. The two men followed her chuckling.

Gwynne's face started to glow, for her lips were like honey against his own. He could indeed speak, his brain having temporarily regained its stability. He still had trouble walking though. He stepped out of the trough and wobbled back into the pub. He looked for the lady and followed her.

"I am as sober as a man can be after six pitchers of ale," he laughed. "But, if the cold water didn't sober me up lassie, your kiss sure did," he smiled at her, surprisingly dashing and charming as he did so.

"I am happy for you. I am Lady Morgan Brasar, recently come from Dinas Dwr. I hope that you remember me when next we meet. If you will excuse me, my meal is ready." She turned imperiously and walked back to the bar where a tavern maid waited with her tray.

Gwynne frowned, "Forgive me milady, but might I buy your meal? As a token of my appreciation for your beauty and a sincere apology for my drunkenness in the presence of one so fair," he asked, bowing and doing all he could to keep from tipping over.

"I believe you just got done reminding me I owed you for a pitcher." She said with a laugh. "Look me up when you are sober."

"I shall do so milady, my apologies for my wanton disregard of chivalry and gentility," he bowed again and watched her leave. Gwynne returned to his table, never taking his eyes off the lady, he finally fell asleep in the chair.

The next morning he found himself with a terrible soreness in his neck and back and one pounding headache. He noticed it was light out and wondered what had become of him the night before. He did remember a name, Lady Morgan Brasar.

He stood to his feet, pushing back the nausea he felt and walked to the bar, "Excuse me sir, might you tell me where I might find the Lady Brasar?" Gwynne asked, the picture of a Knight of the realm, a far cry from the man of the previous evening.

"Right this way sir." The man led Gwynne through a door in the back. They stepped into a room with a huge steaming tub. "The lady asks that you bathe before you join her to break fast."

Gwynne smiled, he was not totally against baths. "Aye kind sir, indeed. Could you dry out my tunic? It's wet for some reason," Gwynne asked.

"A clean set of clothes are waiting by the bath." He said with a bow and left the man to his ablutions.

Gwynne didn't have the chance to thank the barkeep, but paid it no mind once the door was shut. He undressed, stepped into the steaming hot water and began to clean off the dirt and grime of the last few days. Gwynne found it strangely relaxing and the water's warmth soothed his soul and helped his headache. He was soon finished and put on the the clean clothes that had been provided. He strapped on his sword, ready to meet the lady with a clear mind and a refined manner. He walked back out to the barkeep, "I have finished good man," Gwynne gave the fellow a few farthlings for the bath. "The water was very warm, I thank you. Is the lady I seek here?" he wondered.

"Aye and your bath was paid for," He pushed the coin back. "The lady is in the private parlor." He indicated a door that was usually reserved for his benefactor.

"Thank you good fellow," Gwynne bowed his head slightly and walked to the private parlor's door. He entered the room and found the lady sitting at the table. He didn't notice anything in the room but her beauty and the essence of her countenance that he seemed to be able to feel. She was breathtaking, and now he understood the dream he had last night. He dreamed of this lass, and knew her face by the name. He did not remember anything from the night before, but he remembered her name and the face that Gwynne thought was only the face of an angel.

"Milady," Gwynne bowed low and respectfully, walked forward a bit and smiled. "I thank you for your kindness," he said. He was struggling between his innate shyness and the charm that was underlying the surface.

"Sit Sir Hawley and break fast with me." Morgan commanded.

"Aye milady, it is my pleasure. I thank you for the bath, I shall be happy to repay my debt to you," he told her softly and sat down across from her. Gwynne moved with a graceful ease, his smile turning into a shy grin. He took a plate and carefully picked the food he wanted to eat from what was on the table. "And I thank you for the sustenance. Surely you will let me return such favors? As a Knight cannot be indebted to a lady for money," he said, his voice low and his tone respectful. He was definitely different sober than drunk.

"Is that why you demanded payment for your pitcher last evening?" She asked with amusement.

"Nay lass, I would never do such a thing. Normally, my pride would not allow me to take favors from a lass, but I do not wish to offend the only friend I have in the fair city of Alban," he told her truthfully.

"Ah but you did." She said with a laugh. "Before I had you dumped in a horse trough. Eat, I do not wish to eat alone." She said with a smile.

Gwynne laughed, a rare thing for him, "So that is why my clothes were damp when I awoke this morn?" Gwynne took a bite of cheese and poured himself a glass of unfermented wine. He held the goblet to the lady, "To your beauty and kindness," he said, a genuine tone behind the words. Gwynne was not used to company, but he enjoyed this lady's presence.

"So how are you finding Abertawe from your Northern Highlands?" She asked calmly.

"Interesting, less educated than I would have believed. Half the peasants do not know how to read?" he asked questioningly. "The land is beautiful and fertile, and the King has treated me well. I have no complaints milady. However, I do find the lasses to be more fair than any I'd seen in my home land," he smiled and stuffed a piece of cheese into his mouth to cover the redness of his blushing from the lady.

"Your compliment is wasted as I am from Llydaw." She said with a laugh. "Home of all that is barbaric and savage."

"Not unlike my own home it seems, I find that even a woman from the barbarous lands can have a grace and beauty unlike any other," he replied, hiding a shy smile behind his goblet of unfermented wine. "What city in Llydaw milady do you hail from?" he asked pleasantly. Small talk wasn't Gwynne's strong suit, but for this lady he would give it his best.

"I am from the capital." She said. "I left there some time ago when I married."

"You are married then?" Gwynne asked, unable to hide the immediate frown upon his face. He took another bit of the cheese and reached for an apple that he'd started right after he was done with the cheese.

"Widowed. My husband died about a year ago." She answered as she nibbled on a peace of cheese.

"I am sorry for your loss milady. I wish to offer you my services. Your kindness has been overwhelming, and as a Knight Of Abertawe I must make it my duty to help the widows of our land," Gwynne replied, his charming demeanor not hiding behind his shyness, though it was there. Gwynne finished his cheese and tore into an apple with his short dagger, that he kept very sharp. He gave the lady another smile, unable to help his eyes from taking in her beauty.

"I shall count myself fortunate then for rescuing you from your cups." She teased.

"Aye lass," he replied, lifting his cup to her in mock toast. "I like to do that once a week, breaks the monotony of my daily intellectual endeavors, you see," Hawley replied. "And what of you milady? How is it that a widow does so well on her own?" he asked, not realizing that etiquette probably didn't bode him to ask such a thing.

"My husband was well set and left me his funds for my disposal. I decided a change of scenery appealed to me. I have come here to settle." She said with a smile.

"Aye, good lassie, I am glad that you are well off. I am honored to know thee," he replied. "Do you know of a way for a Knight to come into land of his own in these parts? As I have lost my ancestral land and title, banished by me own brother. I have the honor of a knight, and I am sorry to say the avarice of a common thug," he laughed, for he was only joking about the thug part.

"Why a Knight and not a mercenary then?" She asked. "I understand King Hawk pays his knights?"

"Aye, I am paid well for a Knight, but not to be a Lord of land. I have the avarice of a mercenary, and the conscious of a Knight," he tried to explain a little better.

"Then you should consider marrying well." She said with a smile.

"Marrying? What lass would marry a man who has nothing to offer her father lord? I must first make me fortune, before I can marry a lass of well to do," he said to her, finishing the liquid in his goblet. "You see lass, I was banished from my homeland, by my own brother who was jealous of my knowledge and wisdom. I left with just my sword, battle-axe, the clothes on me person and my horse Caedmere who's out front. Until you came into my life, the blessed vision you are, that mare was my only companion," he told her true. He realized after he spoke, he'd said too much.

"I can see why he banished you." She said with a chuckle.

Gwynne looked at the Lady Morgan, his glare questioning. Not sure if she gave him a compliment or was criticizing him. "I assure you milady, I am well educated and a good sword in battle if given the chance. My eyesight may not be the best in the land, but my brain makes up for where my eyes leave off," he smiled and pushed away his plate, finally full.

"Yes, but the chilvaric code teaches not to tote one's abilities does it not?" She asked with concern.

"Aye milady, that was not toting at'all. I was just sharing my gifts with you," Gwynne smiled, bowed his head respectfully and hoped she understood. To Gwynne as long as he didn't brag, he wasn't toting.

She laughed. "Have you considered trade?" If he was as intelligent as he claimed, then he might make his fortune this way.

"Aye, but would need money to start trading with ye see? For without money to buy goods how can ye trade? I have money for ale and parchment, but I make my ink and scribe scrolls as well. I thank you for the idea, it is one worthy of my thinking and ability," he bowed again. "You are a most delightful lass, milady. I have never had a more finer breaking of fast than my mind and eyes can remember," he told her truthfully. He spoke well, but the shyness of his character was always there and shown.

"How much would you need?" She asked thoughtfully.

"1,000 pounds at least. That may take me a good three summers if I save everything paid to me by the King and not spend one pound. Alas, it may be what I must do," he replied, sorrow on his face. All his life he'd known wealth and prosperity from his father, he was a prince among his people, but no more. Now poor Gwynne felt like a vagabond.

"I can have you 10000 pounds in a week. Then you can repay me 10 fold in five years." She suggested.

Gwynne looked at the lass in stunned disbelief. "10,000 pounds milady? That is a veritable fortune? I shan't live with myself if I were to take so much from a widow," Gwynne replied, there was no hiding his shock. With that kind of money he could have a huge mercantile business in less than a year and have enough land to give her the ten fold. "It is tempting milady, but whatever would I do to repay such kindness and generosity?" Gwynne asked.

"You are not taking it from a widow. You are taking it from a business partner that happens to be a widow. If you fail, I will take it out in service." Her words were very cold.

"We could make it a business deal? Make it legal?" he asked. This lady had become his boon, and his guardian angel all at the same time.

"Your word is not enough?" She was surprised. He was supposed to be one of those pretentious knights.

"Aye, aye it tis. I just thought that you'd want to be safe, to take care of so much money. I am a knight and my honor is my life, I can assure of that. I will forever be in your debt," he told her, the shock on his face still evident. Such beauty in a kind lass, a very rare combination.

"Then it is done. I will have the funds delivered on the morrow." She said quietly.

"How can I ever repay you milady? Your kindness and company overwhelm me," he told her, his tone respectful. Gwynne's mind was already churning with where to begin his trading business. With 10,000 pounds he could start finding product immediately. He knew of merchants who could make a good 120,000 pounds a year in these parts and that could easily buy a nice piece of land. Of course he would have to pay back the lady 100,000 pounds. But the 20,000 pound profit would more than pay for the next year's bounty and he'd be well on his way. He found himself very attracted to this lady, she had the qualities he had wanted in a lass, brains, beauty and a head for business.

"It is not kindness. It is business." She answered.

"Indeed, indeed. A business deal that will do us both good. May I ask thee a question milady?" Gwynne had to know.

"Of course." she took a sip of her tea. It was always interesting to see one of virtue sell their very soul for money. She would own this man before the month was out.

"Might I call on you again? Not on business, but for pleasure? For your company and your beauty is most pleasing and I know no one else in the town to spend time with. I would be honored to meet with you again?" he asked, his eyes and features waited in anticipation of her answer.

"I ban no merchant acquaintance my company." She said. "Though my plan is to have an estate before the moon waxes full."

"A most wise plan milady. Land is the key to wealth and power," he told her. "I pray that someday I might be more than a nerchant acquaintance," he added.

"My plans are not likely to include more then acquaintances." She said seriously.

"In mourning for the rest of your days?" he asked curiously.

"I would rather not say." Morgan said taking a sip of tea. "But friends are always welcome."

"Then I consider it an honor to count you among my friends milady," he stood and bowed to her gracefully. "Might I be of some use of you in any other way milady?" Gwynne asked, surely he could offer to do something for the lass after she had given him instant credit.

"Oh, you can be sure Sir Gwynne that if I have another need you will be first most in my consideration." She said with a tantalizing smile.

"It is my hope and desire, milady," he bowed to her again. He found himself unable to take his eyes from her visage, so mesmerized by her beauty was he. "The King will be in need of his Knights shortly, I shall take me leave and attend to my knightly duties. It is with regret that I leave your company lass, but I know that we shall see one another again," he replied, he gracefully bowed to her, his voice scintillating with charm and ease, but still he was shy and reserved. "I thank you again for the fine food and the even better company, I shall think on you often," he smiled and turned for the parlor's door.

"Aye, you will see me again. Good day to you sir." She said rising as he left.

"And good day to you milady," he said, momentarily turning to face her and then turned back and exited the room. He had a huge smile upon his face. He knew what he would sell, how he would manufacture his goods and would even begin to count the expected profits after cost and labor, and transport. Soon Gwynne just might have the wealth and the land he dreamed of having in his possession, as he had when he was a Prince among his people.

The first day's ride had been cold but uneventful. They had made good progress from Alban and had stopped in the small hamlet of Llanwnog at the mid-point on the road to Ailinne. The company had been lucky to find enough beds to avoid camping out in the village commons. Very lucky as it turned out, for the sky had unleashed a short but vicious torrent sometime in the early morning hours. As the gray overcast began to lighten, the evidence of the storm lay scattered about the small village. Broken tree branches, with green needles still clinging to their outstretched fingers, could be found on rooftops and lying in the small market square. A deep puddle stretched out before the only hamlet's only inn, and where there were wagon ruts, it looked as though small streams had formed.

Sir Amlyn had slept fitfully in the inn. Ghosts of battles long since fought and the evening's winds had interrupted the peace of his sleep. When the loud knock came at his door just before dawn, he was awake and staring to the wall. At the second knock he called out for the person to enter. It was Pwyll, fully dressed with two mugs of steaming liquid, and a flush glow on his cheeks indicating that he had already been outside.

"Sorry to wake you, but the road ahead looks like shite, an' if we're goin' to make Ailinne today we have to make for the river soon." He handed the waking knight one of the mugs and sat down in a nearby chair. He nodded to the cup and said, "It's atholbrose, mostly honey in oat broth and a touch of uisge-beatha." The outlander took a sip of the drink and cupped his hands around the mug for warmth before continuing. "I've been up the road a way an' it dunnae look good. At points we'll be walking the horses an' where we're not it'll be slow going through a clinging mire." A look at Pwyll's mud splattered garments provided sufficient proof of his assessment. "All your men are still abed, but Niall's up an' eating the poor innkeeper out of house an' home..." Pwyll smiled broadly. "Hope you brought plenty of coin."

"Aye," Amlyn replied foggily. "Enough." Apart from bad dreams and the thrashing of Mother Nature upon the inn, there was an inescapable feeling that had plagued him since leaving Alban. Pwyll's entrance had brought him back from a faraway place that he had been using to try and decipher the emotion. But with the knock on the door, something slipped away from his grasp, and the elusive whisper in his mind was gone. It then took him a few moments to realise that he held a cup of something warm.

Ignoring the outlander, he abruptly got up and paced to the door, placing the cup onto a table on the way. His cotton shift was ragged and creased, sitting askew on his shoulders like someone had pulled sharply on one side. But he did not seem to notice the roughness of his appearance, reefing on the door handle and stepping outside. "Marchlew!" he barked. "Ready all for departure!" He paused for a moment, and Pwyll heard a muffled shout in reply from elsewhere in the building. That seemed to satisfy Amlyn, and he returned back inside, pushing the door closed behind him as he made his way back to his clothing. He picked up a boot and glanced about the floor, his gaze coming to rest on Pwyll. Then he blinked. "I am sorry, Pwyll," he finally said. "My thanks for the... drink."

Pwyll observed the odd behaviour without comment. The fact that the knight seemed eternally preoccupied didn't trouble Pwyll in the least. He was becoming quite accustomed to such an unusual demeanor from the one-armed man. He rose and raised his cup in a gesture of salute and walked to the door. Turning back he said, "I'll see you downstairs. It looks like they make a great oatcake here. Be sure to take a few for the ride--it's always handy to have something other than your one good arm to feed any hungry bears that you meet on the road." He gave Amlyn a wink and a broad grin before he closed the door behind him and made his way to the stairs.

Amlyn watched the outlander depart. Then he set about finding his other boot. Normally he was quite careful and deliberate in how he laid out his clothes at the end of the day. But last night everything had ended up scattered about the place, like the room of a child. He chased the thoughts from his mind and continued the search.

Pwyll entered the inn's small common room just in time to see Niall finish off what looked like his third bowl of porridge. "Ach man! Save some for the starving guardsmen," he called as he approached Niall's table and sat down. With a quick hand he flinched an oatcake from a nearby plate that Niall hadn't yet started on. "Looks like it's going to be a bloody muddy ride today," he said before biting into the still warm biscuit.

Niall chuckled in his deep voice, "The serving lady said there was a big pot of porridge. She keeps bringing me another bowl the second I finish the one I got. Its sooo good I can't just let it get cold." Niall scooped the last spoonful into his mouth. A small portion clung to the side of his beard, but Niall hadn't noticed. It was hard not to smile at the giant man's innocence. "I don mind bad weather. The rain feels good on my face. Its the cold I don't like." Niall shivered at the thought of cold weather.

"Hopefully the rain will hold off. I think that storm last night eased the threat a bit, but the skies could open at any time." Pwyll reached for an oatcake from a newly delivered platter. "Oww! That's hot." He said as he juggled the small cake. A few of the guards billeted in the inn began to trickle into the small common room. Pwyll produced a square of cloth from his tunic into which he scooped a few of the fresh cakes. Tying the corners of the square together, he tucked the little bundle back into his tunic. He smiled up at Niall's puzzled expression. "I might smell like honey and oats, but it'll help keep the chill off for a while." Looking about the rapidly filling room, he added, "Maybe we should clear out and give these sluggards a chance ta eat."

Niall grabbed one of the small cakes himself and looked at Pwyll, "Alright, let's go," and got up to follow the little man. He immediately began devouring the cake as they walked out.

It was one thing for Niall to be stared at as he walked around town, but he found a little amusement from the stares these two were seeing. None taller than Niall and none shorter than Pwyll, an odd couple they formed, indeed. As the two walked Niall began to chuckle.

-----------

The journey to the river's edge was longer than anticipated. In quite a few spots along the way, the mud settled deep enough that the men had to walk their horses, and the mire was as bad as Pwyll had indicated to Amlyn.

The only break came from a clearing in the clouds that shined sunlight in their faces for about two minutes. As the men settled back in their saddles to let the light warm their faces, an unexpected wind filled the remainder of the day blowing the clouds across the sun and bringing rain that never let up. It was as if the God of Suffering had brushed their happiness away. Pwyll was right, though, for the sky had opened.

Wet, cold, and hungry, the men stared at the riverbed in dismay. The water level must have been a full three feet higher than normal and flowed with rage. "We supposed ta cross that?!" Niall asked in shock. "We better start walking the river to find shallow spot ta cross." Niall dismounted.

"There aren't any." Marchlew, the guards' sergeant, had come up to the river's edge and looked sadly down at the opaque brown churning torrent. "The nearest ford is at Wexford, about a ten day ride to the south on this side of the river and perhaps a little longer to Ailinne on the other. No telling if it will even be passable."

Niall looked around for a moment. Up or down the river, it didn't seem to matter. It did not look passable. "Are we in a hurry to get to Ailinne, cause dat guard's idea I think is our only one."

"It would be easier for everyone concerned if we simply went back to the inn and waited for the river level to recede. But that might take even longer at this rate. Do you have any other possibilities in mind Pwyll?"

Pwyll had remained silent as the discussion had run it's course. He seemed to be weighing something. "There is another way, though I am loath to even suggest it."

Amlyn's eyebrows raised in question.

"Llwybr chan 'r farw... The Path of the Dead." Pwyll said quietly.

Several of the nearby guards, familiar with the area, snorted derisively at the reference. "t'ain't no such thing," one could be heard to mumble.

"Ah, hear him out fer ya go tellin' him he's wrong. What do you speak of Pwyll?" Niall asked as he snorted towards some of the guards who immediately quieted down.

"It's one of the old roads. My people sometimes use them for travelling, but this one is rarely taken. They say it is a fell place." Pwyll's subdued tone was unusual in one normally so buoyant, even Niall could sense the difference. "It is not a way I would like to travel, but if the need is strong, then it is the only way. The choice is yours."

"I nae like evil places, but if we're in a hurry, we may not have another choice." You could see a little fear in Niall's eyes.

Amlyn watched the waters surge past. While he was generally reluctant to place others under risk, he felt some sort of pull. Not in the sense of any direction or external influence, but a urging from within. It was the same intuition that had plagued him back at the inn. "Lead the way, Pwyll," he said finally, turning back to his horse without another word.

-------------

The company painfully retraced its path back down the river of mud that had been the King's Highway. After a number of false starts into the thick undergrowth along the roadside the outlander finally led the company to a small clearing a few thousand paces to the south of the roadway.

The travelers should have felt some relief to be away from the sucking mire of the road, but in the rapidly gathering gloom of dusk the clearing brought more dread than comfort. Its open area, barren of plant life save a few blades of dead grass, had been laid with large black basalt cobbles. The stones were set in a regular pattern oriented to what was clearly a gate--three intricately carved stone monoliths arranged as an archway opening onto a narrow paved path.

All the company stood quietly in the face of the ominous gate. Even the guards, who had earlier mocked Pwyll, stared fearfully at the gate.

"Perhaps we should make camp here," Pwyll said, finally breaking the silence. Some of the guards looked dubious at the suggestion, but Amlyn simply nodded.

"Marchlew prepare the camp," Amlyn said in a distracted voice while he gazed at the strange archway.

"Alright you layabouts! You heard 'im. Set camp!" Marchlew barked out the orders, and with much grumbling the men wearily began setting tents and gathering firewood.

The knight, the outlander, and the giant did not dismount immediately, but tarried awhile before the arch.

"Uh .. Pwyll .. Why is this called Lewiber chan er far," Niall closed his eyes as he tried to squeeze out the words in Pwyll's language, "...The Path of the Dead? I nae like it at all. Gives me the creepies." Niall shook as he spoke the words.

Pwyll sat quietly for a moment collecting the threads of the story on his mind. "When Maelgwyn Gwynedd was high king over all Cai Newydd, he went to war with a pwrca, a shape shifting demon of great power. He chased it across what is now Abertawe, and eventually led his host to this very place in order to cross the River Foyle. But the pwrca was cunning. It had taken the form of the giant king, and convinced the giants to attack and kill Maelgwyn. When Maelgwyn led his host through a narrow chasm on the other side of the river, the giants rained stones upon him and his men. A thousand men died that day, and it is said they still haunt this road seeking vengeance against the giants and the pwrca." Pwyll turned to see Niall with a worried look in his eye. He grinned wickedly and added, "I wouldn't worry my friend... I'm sure they won't take you for one of those giants."

Niall was a superstitious fellow and Pwyll could see real fear in Niall's eyes. Niall did his best to maintain his composure, "I'll just stay behind you, my friend, and if the ghosts come out then you can tell em i'm just an oversized man cause they'd listen to you." Niall nodded his head at Pwyll.

Amlyn said nothing during or after the tale, but continued to gaze on the gate trying to draw together the haunting thoughts hovering at the edge of his consciousness. This place seemed to give shape to the images in his mind, but still they would not come. He dismounted silently and led his horse to a small grazing area, before helping set camp.

Pwyll and Niall followed suit and prepared to make bed down at the entrance to the Path of the Dead.