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Page 22
was also provided by his nieces and nephews. Simon already had his eye on one of Adam's younger sons who seemed to him to have the temperament to deal with the northern barons.
Yet, when he had first seen Rhiannon singing to her harp in her father's hall, before he had even exchanged a word with her, he had been conquered. It was not her beauty, although she was beautiful; many more beautiful women had lain in his arms without touching his heart. Perhaps it was the wild tale she sang, full of enchantments and tragedy, that had sent love's dart into him. She looked a part of that ancient tale herself. Her gown, heavy with gold and jewels, was a hundred years out of date; her hair, black and shining as the sleek feathers of a raven, flowed unconfined by veil or net or wimple down to her knees. Jewels hung in her ears and bound her brows. Simon had never seen a woman who appeared so wild and free.
"Who is she?" Simon had asked Prince Llewelyn when Rhiannon's song had ended.
"My daughter," the Lord of Gwynedd had answered, smiling, "or so I believe. Her mother is not a woman with whom a man would argueor triflenot even I. I say I do not believe in such things, but Kicva is a 'wise woman.' Kicva's father, Gwydyon, was bard to my court in those years, and she came to me and said she wished me to sire a daughter on her. It was no burden; she was a lovely thing. Later she brought Rhiannon to me from time to time that I should know her and she me, but she never asked for anything nor would even take what I offered freely. Of course, they were not in need. Gwydyon was a real power in the hills and Kicva also. Rhiannon . . . I do not know. She is stranger than her mother in some ways."
"Is she married?" Even as he asked, Simon wondered why he had done so. It had never mattered to him before whether an attractive woman was married

 
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