Caradoc of the North Wind Read Online Free

that Rhiannon of the Spring was close.
    She sighed, seeing nothing, but still convinced of their presence and guardianship. She knew who she was! She was Branwen of the Shining Ones. The Warrior Child whose destiny it was to be the saviour of Brython.
    That would never change.
    She turned to see Rhodri leading Romney out over the rubbled entrance and on to the bloodstained snow. The younger princess was short and sturdy, with dark hair and a broad, sullen face. Like her sister, Romney was swathed in a tattered cloak and showed clear signs of her hard journey in the wild, but unlike Meredith, when she saw Branwen there was only cold dislike in her eyes.
    She stumbled on a loose stone as she came into the open. Rhodri reached a hand to help her but she glared at him and drew off. ‘Get away from me,’ she spat. ‘Do not presume to touch a princess of Doeth Palas!’
    So, her travels had done nothing so far to improve her personality, more was the pity. Branwen shook her head. It was going to be a long trip home, playing nursemaid to Romney and suffering Angor’s barbed loathing. A merry jaunt, indeed!
    Rhodri bowed to Romney, stepping back to let her make her faltering way to her sister’s side. A small smile flickered on his lips. Romney saw it and scowled. She turned to Captain Angor, who was kneeling at the side of a wounded man.
    ‘Fetch a carriage,’ she demanded of him. ‘I’m cold and hungry. Bring me some food immediately, and then get us away from this place and these people .’ She said ‘people’ as though she meant vermin .
    Angor’s voice was clipped and strained. ‘Your carriage was destroyed by the Saxons, my lady,’ he said. ‘Our horses and all our provisions are lost. What would you have me do?’
    Just then, Banon and Linette came into the clearing, leading the eight horses of the Gwyn Braw. Among them was Branwen’s great bay destrier, once the steed of Skur the Viking warrior, but now taken by Branwen and named Terrwyn, meaning The Brave .
    Romney jerked a finger towards the horses. ‘We can take those,’ she said.
    Angor glanced at the horses. ‘They belong to others,’ he said.
    Romney looked at Branwen’s followers. ‘What of it?’ she said. ‘Does a princess of Doeth Palas need to ask permission of vagabonds? Take the horses and whatever food they have, and be quick about it, Captain!’
    Angor’s jaw twitched, as though he was biting back some inappropriate retort.
    Aberfa burst out laughing, and even Dera was forced to smile.
    ‘Oh, the audacity of the child!’ roared Aberfa, clapping her hands together. ‘She’s a queen among us peasants to be sure!’
    Iwan grinned, shaking his head. ‘Angor ap Pellyn does not command here, Romney,’ he told her. ‘If you seek special treatment, ask Branwen.’
    ‘But I’d keep a civil tongue, if I were you,’ added Banon, drawing the horses to a halt.
    ‘How dare you!’ Romney exploded, her cheeks red with anger.
    Blodwedd gazed at the young girl. ‘If not for Branwen and the Gwyn Braw, you would likely be dead in your own blood by now,’ she said. ‘If you cannot be grateful, then at least be silent.’
    The look that Romney gave the owl-girl was of uttermost disgust, but she kept her lips together, letting her expression speak for her.
    ‘Let’s not rebuke the child overmuch,’ Linette said, looking at Romney with a gentle smile. ‘She is cold and tired and far from home.’
    ‘Keep your pity, savage!’ said Romney. ‘I don’t want it.’
    ‘You have it, nonetheless, little one,’ Linette said.
    Branwen walked up to Romney, gazing deep into the small girl’s angry, frightened eyes. ‘You are under my protection, Romney, whether you like it or not. You will have food shortly, but we must ride some way first.’ She turned, doing a quick head count. ‘Eight horses and sixteen riders – it can be done.’
    ‘Fifteen riders,’ said Angor, standing up. The man at his feet was staring sightlessly into the evening