“It was Broichan whom the fellow and his companions were trying to harm, not Bridei. Bridei knew this was wrong. He had seen the expression in that man’s narrowed eyes, had watched as his finger tightened on the bowstring. Broichan did have enemies. A man who is everybody’s friend has no need of guards on the perimeters of his property, or doors with bolts. Perhaps those attackers were the druid’s foes, but the one they wanted to kill was Bridei. Why, he could not tell. His father was a king, ce...rtainly, but Gwynedd was a distant place with its own councils, its own wars, far removed from the realms of the Priteni. Besides, his father had sent him away. If he’d been of any special importance, surely his family would have kept him. The attack just didn’t make sense. The man Donal had killed was buried in a corner of the sheep yard. Others, sighted from Broichan’s guardposts, had escaped into the forest despite energetic pursuit by the druid’s men at arms.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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