The Halls of Arlwy and Araith, they were named, the Halls of Feasting and of Debate. They were roofed with wooden shingles, their outer walls painted a vibrant yellow, making them shine like gold in the sun. Not that the Great Halls had seen much of the sun in recent weeks; the roofs were white with snow as Branwen strode up the slushy hill towards them.It still rankled a little that the people of Pengwern moved away when she approached, as though they feared contagion. They were happy enough for the Gwyn Braw to risk their lives by riding out on one of the king’s lethal missions, but few would meet her eye as she walked among them, and fewer still had kind words for her.Branwen and her followers were housed in a modest long house a little behind the Great Halls – out of sight. Branwen didn’t care overmuch; they had warm beds, food, and stabling for their horses when they were not out in the winter-choked wildernesses. And as much as she felt like the outsider – always treated with suspicion and doubt by Cynon’s counsellors – she at least had access to the king when she needed it.
What do You think about Caradoc Of The North Wind?
