The Beast of Caer Baddan by Rebecca Vaughn Page A

spread so quickly. He wondered what other events of his that spring were people were already talking about.
    “My servant woman had it from the knights,” she said, blushing over his suspicion.
    Owain was about to reply when he heard Britu's agitated voice calling his name.
    “Owain!” Britu cried, coming out of the house and walking over to them.
    “Clansman,” Owain said. He caught the ire in the younger man’s voice and sought to pacify him. “Are they now assembled?”
    Lady Scothnoe was silent, shifting her gaze down as if to avoid looking up at her elder brother's disapproving eye.
    “They are, Owain,” Britu said. “Father is waiting for you and grows anxious at your tardy.”
    “God keep you, Lady Scothnoe,” Owain said.
    She curtsied to him but said nothing.
    Owain followed Britu back into the house and down the passageway to the hall. They were half of the way there, when Britu seized him by the latches of his breastplate.
    “What are you doing with my sister?” he cried.
    “Calm, Clansman,” Owain said.
    He was undaunted by the outburst and chose not to knock Britu’s hands off. He wished to pacify his cousin rather than fight him.
    “Do not dare seduce her,” Britu said, through his clenched teeth.
    “I am not trying to seduce your sister,” Owain replied, laughing at the thought. “Peace, Britu-”
    “Peace?” Britu said, his eyes burning into Owain’s. “I know you well. I know of the women you seduce day after day. You are a fiend.”
    “Britu-”
    “You touch my sister and by God and all the ancestors, I shall run you through!”
    “If you know me well, Clansman,” Owain said, serious to match his cousin’s fury, “then you would know that I would not do that with my own clanswoman.”
    “Swear it,” Britu said.
    “I swear it, Britu, on the Sword of Togadum.”
    Britu let go of him then. “Very well,” he said, his voice turning aloft and serene.
    “Britu,” Owain said, “we are like brothers, you and I.”
    “That is true,” Britu replied.
    Owain put a comforting arm around his cousin, and they walked to the hall.

    “Euginius, my nephew,” King Gourthigern said, his relief marked in his gruff voice. “There you are.”
    “God keep you, Uncle,” Owain replied. “Annon, Swale.”
    “What shall we do about the Gewissae?” Annon said.
    “Patience, Annon,” Owain replied. “Let the king speak, for it is he who called us to his aid. Uncle?”
    They sat down around the table, and the king explained.
    “The Gewissae have prepared for battle in secret and are just now gathering a force in the Town of Hol,” he said. “They have been discontent for months, but now they mean war.”
    “How do you know they are in Hol?” Swale said.
    “The scouts have seen how they gathered their warriors in other places as well, including their capital Tiw,” the king replied. “But the general movement is towards Hol.”
    He wiped his brow with the palm of his hand as he recalled the events.
    “Twenty years ago, they came to this great land of Albion, because we needed them,” he continued. “They did their work, beating back the Pictii who invaded Went, and settled in the area designated for them. And then they wanted more land, and more, and more. I cannot contain them any longer. This is the third rebellion they have started, and the island cannot take another.”
    “They are Saxon,” Britu said , as if to say that Saxon was synonymous with murderous scoundrel.
    “Euginius?” said the king with a pleading look to Owain.
    “True,” Owain said. “They are Saxon.”
    Owain did not equate Saxon or any other people with villainy. They were simply not his people. At that moment, they were an adversary to crush. He was determined that, as long as he lived, the Gewissae would never rise up against Atrebat or any other Britannae kingdom again.
    Owain took the map that lay open on the table and found the locations. Tiw was in the northwestern side of Gewissae land, Hol