"Noin!" shouted Scarlet, darting forward. He dived through the archway of the riven oak and disappeared down the path leading into Cel Craidd.

The men scrambled after him, flying down into the bowl of a valley that cradled their forest home. At first glance all appeared to be just as they had left it earlier that morning… but there were no people, none to greet their return as on all the other days when they had gone out to do battle with the Ffreinc.

"Where are they?" wondered Owain.

The shuddering wail came again.

"This way!" Scarlet raced off along one of the many pathways radiating out into Coed Cadw.

Only a few steps down the path he found his wife standing in the path, bent almost double, her shoulders shaking with the violence of her sobs.

"Noin!" Scarlet rushed to her side. "Noin, are you hurt?"

She turned, her face stricken and crumpled with pain, although she appeared to be unharmed. And then Will looked at the bundle she cradled in her arms. It was little Nia, her arms and legs limp and still. The child appeared to be asleep, eyes closed, her features composed. There was a dark, ugly purple bruise on her throat.

Will Scarlet put his ear to the little one's face. "She's not breathing."

"Oh, Will…" sobbed Noin as Scarlet gathered them both in his arms.

"Bran!" shouted Rhoddi. "Over here!"

A few dozen steps farther along the path lay another, larger bundle-a shapeless mass of bloody rags, as if a sack of meat had been rolled and crushed beneath a millstone. Beside what was left of this body lay the banfaith's staff. Bran halted in midstep, staring, his face frozen.

"Angharad!" he cried, rushing swiftly to the body. He sank to his knees beside the pathetic heap of rag and bone and gathered it into his arms. He knelt there, rocking back and forth, cradling the corpse of his beloved teacher and advisor, his confidante, his best and dearest friend.

After a time, Bran collected himself somewhat; he lowered the body to the ground and gently smoothed the hair from the old woman's face and then cupped her wrinkled cheek in his hand. "Farewell, Mother," he whispered, gazing at the wizened features he had come to know so well. He placed the tips of his fingers to her eyes and drew her eyelids shut, then bent his head in sorrow as his tears flowed freely.

Owain and the others raced off to make a search of the path and surrounding wood. Bran gathered up the broken body of the Wise Banfaith in his strong arms and returned to Cel Craidd; Scarlet and Noin came after, bearing their beloved daughter. Tuck, ministering to Tomas's wound, looked up as Bran and Scarlet returned with the little girl and the old woman. He rose and ran to them as they lay the corpses beneath the spreading boughs of the Council Oak. "Who is it? Who-?" he said and stopped in his tracks. "Lord have mercy," he sighed when he saw who had been killed. "Christ have mercy."

Turning to Noin and Scarlet, he gathered them in a gentle embrace and prayed for them then and there, that the Lord of Life would give them strength to bear their loss. He did the same for Bran and, seeing as there was nothing more to be done just then, he returned to tending the wounded Tomas.

Bran was kneeling by the still body of Angharad when Owain came to him. "We found no one else injured, Rhi Bran. I think-I hope-everyone got away."

He was silent for a moment, watching Bran straighten the old woman's battered limbs. "Do you think they knew it was King Raven's home they attacked?"

"Those knights weren't looking for this place, but they found it anyway."

"But do they know what they found?" asked Owain.

"Perhaps not," allowed Bran. "But if they do come back, they'll come in force, and we will not be able to defend it. We will stay here tonight and abandon Cel Craidd in the morning-and pray we have at least that much time." He folded one of the old woman's wrinkled hands over the other. "Tell everyone to prepare to leave. We'll take only what we can carry easily. Bundle up all the arrows and extra bows-get Brocmael and Ifor to help you secure all the weapons. Tell Siarles to set sentries in the usual places. Go. We must be ready to move at first light tomorrow."

Owain nodded. "Where will we go, my lord?"

"It is a big forest," he said, brushing a wispy strand of hair away from Angharad's face. "We'll find someplace to camp."

It was early evening, and the sun had tinged the sky with a crimson hue when Noin finally brought herself to speak about what had happened, which was that after the war band had departed, the Grellon went about their daily chores. She and Cia had gone to gather blackberries in the wood; she had taken Nia with her, and the three of them had spent the morning picking. When they had filled their bowls, they started back. "Nia was so excited," Noin said, "she'd gathered more and bigger berries than ever before, and she wanted to show Angharad. So she went ahead of us… I tried to call her back…" Noin paused, choking back the tears. "But she didn't hear me, and anyway she knew the path. I let her go…" Her voice faltered. Scarlet, grim with grief, put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Bran offered her a cup of water. After she had swallowed a little, she continued. "We started back. Cia and I were talking… Then we heard shouts and voices… scared… We met some of the Grellon on the path, running away. Cel Craidd had been discovered, they said; the Ffreinc had found us. Everyone had scattered, and everyone had got away. 'What about Nia? Did anyone see my little girl?'" Noin shook her head, her lips trembling. "No one had seen her. I started running toward the settlement. But it was all over." She shook her head in bewilderment. "The Ffreinc were gone. There was no one around. I began calling for Nia, but there was no answer. I started looking for her, calling her… I thought, I hoped-maybe one of the others picked her up in the confusion, someone had taken her to safety. I searched one path and then another until…" She let out a wrenching sob and lowered her face into her hands. "I found her on the path-just before you came. I think she got trampled by a horse… one of the hooves struck her head…" She turned eyes full of tears to the others. "How could anyone do that to a little child? How could they?"

Bran and Tuck left Noin and Scarlet to their grief then and went to see what could be done for Tomas. The wounded warrior had been laid out on a bed of rushes covered with a cloak.

"He is sleeping," Rhoddi told them. "I did as you said, Friar-I put a clean cloth and some dry moss on the cut. It seems to have stopped bleeding."

"That's a good sign, I think," said Tuck.

Bran nodded. He raised his eyes; the tops of the tallest trees were fading into the twilight. "We must bury Nia and Angharad soon. I will dig the graves."

"Allow me, my lord," said Rhoddi.

Bran nodded. "We'll do it together."

"I want to help," said Tuck.

"Is it wise to leave him alone?" said Rhoddi, with a nod towards Tomas.

Tuck glanced at the sleeping warrior beside him. "We'll hear him if he wakes," he said. So the three went off to begin the bleak task of digging the graves: one pitifully small for Nia, and another for Angharad. Iwan and Scarlet came to help, too, and all took their turn with the shovel. While they were at their work, some of the Grellon who had fled the settlement began coming back-one by one, and then in knots of two or three-and they gave their own account of what had happened.

The settlement had been discovered by a body of Ffreinc knights on horseback-eight or ten, maybe more-who then attacked. The forest-dwellers fled, with the knights in pursuit. They would have been caught, all of them, but Angharad turned and blocked the trail. They had last seen her facing the enemy with her staff raised high, a cry of challenge on her lips; and though it cost her life, the enemy did not follow them into the forest. The returning Grellon were shocked to find their good bard had been killed, and dear little Nia as well. The tears and weeping began all over again.