“Two spearmen, dressed for war after the fashion of their people, with striped cloaks and bare chests and bronze bands on their arms and legs, round shields in their hands and bronze helms on their heads, stood guarding the rough trail. They crossed their iron-tipped spears in a show of barring the way. In keeping with that show, Mordred, encased in his gleaming black armour, swung himself off his stallion and came up to them on foot. “We are summoned by Lord Olcan to his council,” he intoned in... the Dal Riata’s own lilting tongue. The spearman who stood at the right, a hulking, ungainly fellow with moustaches so long he could almost tuck them in his belt, looked over Mordred and his retinue of five horsemen. His weathered face showed in equal measure how he both coveted the animals and cursed the trouble it would be holding onto such mettlesome beasts while the high and the mighty held their conference. Mordred let him look. There was no harm in it, and the greater the impression they made on these men, the better.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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