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Pembroke's men so that Llewelyn could know what Richard's supporters thought and how close their ties were to Pembroke. |
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There had been nothing new to learn on that score, however. Simon had told Llewelyn all he could days before, and he was bored with trying to keep the peace between the northern and southern Welsh and the English-Norman contingents. He had not been sleeping well, and although he had twice wandered through the section where the camp followers plied their trade, he had come away without relieving his needs. And his feelings about Rhiannon still seesawed from hope to despair and back again. Llewelyn's order and Pembroke's instructions were the answers to his prayers. Simon had gathered his men and was away before anyone could change his mind. |
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Kicva's hunter returned to Angharad's Hall with Llewelyn's letter just after breakfast, about two hours before Simon set off to watch the movements of the king's army. He apologized for being slow. The fine weather had broken with a heavy fall of rain, which had overfilled several small rivers, making the usual fords useless. Kicva smiled. She knew about the fall of rain. It had imprisoned Rhiannon in the house, so that instead of examining her fears in the soft melancholy of the autumn forest and healing herself in silence, Rhiannon had worked them out on her harp. She had produced her first original song, not a translation or a distillation of an old story or her grandfather's work, but her own tale and melodyand it was good, the equal, Kicva thought, to Gwydyon's work. |
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When she had played it through complete, Rhiannon had looked at her mother in dazed amazement. "That is my pain," she whispered, "and it is beautiful." |
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"Yes, Daughter. Did you think the songs Gwydyon wove came from a dead, untouched heart? They, too, were leached out of blood and agony. It changes, too, |
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