"In about a day and a half, we can be at King Llywellyn's camp. The English won't follow us there if they are smart," Bran said.
    "How did you find that out?" Gwern asked, in awe of his brother.
     "Four nights ago, riders came to tell Father where King Llywellyn was camped. They wanted to get his support, and I just happened to be there to overhear them," Bran answered patiently.
    "Anyway, we need to move on," Caden broke in, looking back apprehensively.
    "To King Llywellyn," Elen added as she mounted her mare.
    "To King Llywellyn," Bran agreed. In moments, they were off again.
    That day, they kept ahead of the English, though at times they could hear the strangers crashing around in the forest. The Welsh were familiar with the rugged land, and so put distance between themselves and their pursuers. The English, unfamiliar with the territory, kept on doggedly after the Welsh. As dusk fell, the English camped, having little choice in the matter. The Welsh kept on until the moon had risen high in the sky before they stopped for the night, for they knew the terrain.
     In the morning, the chase continued with the coming of dawn. Elen followed her brothers doggedly, haggard after the danger of yesterday. Bran, Gwern, and Caden were all trained warriors, however, and fared much better. They were traveling up the steep side of a valley to get to the top of a vast plateau beneath the shadows of the nearby Black Mountains. They were closing in on their destination when disaster struck.
    King Llywellyn's army wasn't just camping. They were under attack. Gwern, Bran, Caden, and Elen found themselves in triangle between King Llywellyn's army, their pursuers, and the greater part of the English army.
    "Run!" Bran yelled. He and Caden reacted at the same time, riding hard toward King Llywellyn's forces. Gwern and Elen followed in the next instant. Some of the warriors of King Llywellyn's army had seen them. Archers fired rapidly at their pursuers, buying Caden, Bran, Gwern, and Elen more time. They were going to make it! they had to!
    Just then, Elen felt something bite into her side, spreading pain like burning fire. She must have made a noise, because Caden suddenly turned, looking back at her. She watched, suddenly calm, though she felt as if she were tosses into a raging sea, looking into Caden's horror filled eyes. She was in the sea, floating as the waves crashed around her but didn't touch her, keeping her warm and safe and dry. She let the black waters close over her head, sinking into blissful oblivion.
    "Elen!" Caden cried out as he watched his love fall from her horse, hitting the ground and then lying still, an arrow protruding from her side. Her mare kept running, leaving Elen behind. Bran was suddenly beside him, slapping Caden's horse, scaring the mount into running.
    "Come on!" Bran shouted as both of their horses bolted forward. Caden rode, following Bran and Gwern into the relative safety of Llywellyn's camp, though inside, he was with Elen.
    Behind the lines, Caden, Bran, and Gwern exchanged their horses for weapons, joining the lines. Gwern stuck close to Bran.
    "Where is Elen?" he asked, shouting to be heard above the noise of the other warriors as they shouted threats and warnings to the English.
    "She was shot," Bran replied grimly, jaw tight. Now was not the time for grieving, though he yearned for his younger sister. He looked over at Caden who stood in stony silence, gripping a sword so tightly his knuckles were white. How much worse it must be for him! Everyone knew of Caden and Elen's plans, and no one had doubted that the courting would go smoothly with no complaints, and that Caden and Elen would then get married when the time allotted for courtship was done. And yet, he stood there; he had been made to leave Elen behind.
    Bran looked out at the English army. Their pursuers were nowhere in sight. A roar went up from the English, and they charged, pushing back the Welsh- back toward the Black Mountains. In the shadows of the mountains, however, the Welsh archers were afforded good places to hide and shoot from. Arrows flew overhead, thick as flocks of migrating birds. Slowly, the English stopped their advance, and the arrows kept coming, falling on them like rain. A roar went up from the Welsh army as the English pulled back. The standoff was theirs. As the Welsh slowly advanced, Bran looked for a glimpse of Elen laying on the field, but she was nowhere to be seen. Where could she be? Was there a chance that she was still alive? No. Bran pushed that thought away. Not with a wound like that.

    Night fell on the camp. Caden was standing alone at the edge of camp, staring blankly into the darkness. Around him, sentries moved, keeping a sharp watch for danger, while tired soldiers celebrated their victory. A hand fell on his shoulder, and he jumped, startled, spinning around.
His older brother, Awstin, smiled at him through the darkness. "Easy there, Cade."
    Caden turned his back on his brother, staring into the darkness once more. Patiently, Awstin tried to make conversation. "You made a real entrance back there."
    Caden shook his head. "I lost her."
    Awstin sighed. "Gareth and Aeron are here. They worry about you."
    "Aeron's fighting?" Caden asked, the surprise jolting him a little out of his misery. Aeron was the youngest of the family, but he was of fighting age.
    "Aye. Our brothers are quite skilled with sword and bow," Awstin replied proudly.
    Caden simply nodded. Awstin took him by the arm with a sigh, steering him over to one of the fires. "Sit," he ordered.
    Caden sat down obediently on the ground. Awstin sat beside him. "You aren't making this any easier on me. Caden, are you going to fight?"
    Caden stared into the fire. Slowly, he spoke. "They took her from me. I should have been there to protect her. She wasn't made for a warrior's life."
    Awstin shook his head. "Elen was strong. She had spirit and inner strength. She would have ridden with you, pursued by anything for months before even thinking of complaining. She was smart, too. She knew the risks of staying with you and of leaving you to set out on her own, there in the forest. She chose to stay."
    Caden nodded. Awstin pressed him. "Tomorrow, will you fight?"
    Suddenly, Caden leaped up, eyes burning with fury. "Yes. Yes, tomorrow I fight. And the next day, and the next. I will avenge Elen," he declared fiercely.
    Gwern was sitting with Gareth and Aeron, as well as many other men that he didn't know. Gareth and Aeron were close friends of his. They understood him and his need to come to grips with what had happened on the field.
    "Why? How could...," he trailed off into misery.
    Gareth and Aeron simply watched, sitting with him. They didn't have the answers- no one did. Gareth shook his head. "She was fine the last time I saw her- just fine! I did not even see it...."
    "Maybe it was better that way," Aeron suggested.
    Gwern looked at him fiercely for a moment, but then his shoulders dropped again. One of the warriors at their fire looked over at Gwern. he spoke in a deep voice from the darkness saying, "Everyone loses somebody. Say you just get over it."
    "Say you just shut your mouth. Elen wasn't supposed to die- she wasn't a warrior." It was Bran's voice. He stepped into the circle of light cast by the fire, visibly angry. The other warrior stood too, as if to meet a challenge.
    No one figured out who threw the first punch. Some said they both hit at the same time. Regardless, in seconds Bran and the warrior were fighting furiously while the others, including Gwern, Gareth, and Aeron, tried to stay out of the way.
    Elen woke to darkness. Slowly, she sat up, staring into the black void in a vain attempt to see. Her hands moved lightly on the ground as she strove to find out where she was. All the information she gained was that the 'ground' was wooden and rough, and she must be alive because dead people don't get splinters. Her side burned like fire whenever she moved, but she pushed the pain out of her mind. She had to focus. She blinked, but saw nothing. Was she blind? Panic welled up in her, but she fought it down. No- she had to focus. Where was she? Where were Caden, Bran, and Gwern? Had they made it? She shook her head. No. She would find everything out in due time. She laid back down, biting off a gasp of pain as her side reminded her that she was injured. Closing her eyes, Elen sought refuge in sleep.


    Elen woke to the sun streaming onto her face. She opened her blue eyes and sat up slowly, half expecting to see her room and everything she knew so well- the sounds of food being prepared, the yells of Bran and Gwern as they took care of the morning chores, and the squall of Evan or Megen as one or the other started a fight. What she saw jolted her back to the present. She was in a room- a small, cramped room with one door and a small window, high above her- and she was not alone.
    In the corner huddled a figure with her shawl wrapped tightly around her. Her ebony hair fell in cascading waves down to her waist. Gray eyes filled continuously with shimmering tears that trickled silently down her pale cheeks.
    "Amser?" Elen asked, naming Caden's sister. When the girl looked at her, however, Elen suddenly realized that this was not Amser. It was the daughter of King Llywellyn.
    "Princess!" Elen breathed.
    That jolted the other girl out of her misery. She looked toward the door with a quick, frightened glance, and then back at Elen. "Shh!" she hissed urgently. "You must not call me that here- you could very well get yourself in trouble. Remember, the English ruler titles himself 'Prince of Wales' now."
    Elen nodded slowly, leaning against the wall with one hand pressed against her side. "What do you know of this place? Where are we?" she asked.
    The princess shook her head, drying the remnant of her tears. "I only know that we go toward England."
    Elen sighed. For long moments, neither spoke. They didn't know what to say to each other- how to breach the gap that social classes put between them. Finally, the princess ventured a question. "What was that name you called me by earlier?"
    "Amser. That is the name of Caden's sister," Elen explained quickly, suddenly nervous in the presence of the princess, now that she had regained her composure. Her mind raced, realizing that she must have just brought up another question in the princess's mind. "Caden is my courting partner. I wonder what he thinks right now....."
    "I know of a Caden- Caden ap Dylan. My father thinks him a fine warrior," the princess spoke distantly. She looked sharply at Elen. "And by what name are you called?"
    "Elen ap Rhys. You probably would not have heard of me. My father is a lesser lord by the river Wyr."
    "Might you be related to a Bran ap Rhys?" the princes questioned.
    Elen nodded. "Bran is my older brother. He said he received a message from Ki- from your father, I mean. That is how he knew where the camp was."
    A tentative smile pulled at the corners of the princess's mouth. "You seem to know everyone, Elen ap Rhys, though you come from the family of a lesser lord. Now, you must call me Katrin, lacking any title, at least while we stay here."
    Elen smiled and nodded. Who could have imagined that she would be making friends with the Princess Katrin, King Llywellyn's own daughter?!
    Bran, Gwern, Aeron, and Gareth stood before Lord Sceolon in his tent. Though Aeron shifted nervously, the other three stood firm, expressionless as they awaited their fate. They and the warrior that Bran had been fighting, known as Mered, had been brought here for fighting, and so far, Lord Sceolon had not allowed any explanations. He was raving now, so furious his face was red.
    "....childish, fighting amongst yourselves!" Lord Sceolon was shouting. His voice lowered menacingly. "This matter has come to the king's attention- the king himself!"
    No one said a word, hardly daring to breathe. Moments passed, drawn out by the tension of the room. The stress was broken as a horn blasted. Lord Sceolon shoved them roughly out the tent's entrance, guiding them along the narrow paths between the few tents of the camp until they came to the large green and white tent with the rampant red dragon of Wales roaring furiously across its surface. They entered the King's tent, bowing low.
    "Rise," called out a voice well accustomed to command. They obeyed and caught their first glimpse of the king. He was tall, with the Welsh big bone structure, his brow wide, the hair growing low on the forehead. His face was lined with the deep creases of the long burden of responsibility, and his gray eyes were thoughtful and tempered with age as the king looked at them.
    "Shame on the families of Rhys, Dylan, and Mered for what you have done here!" the king thundered suddenly, ancient eyes coming alive with fire.



    "Shame on the families of Rhys, Dylan, and Mered for what you have done here!" the king thundered suddenly, ancient eyes coming alive with fire. Gwern flinched a bit at that, but Bran retained his composure. Aeron shuffled his feet, visibly nervous.
    "What have you to say for yourselves?" the king finally prompted. "Why have you destroyed the peace of this camp? There is a war out there! A war for our land, and we can only win this if we unite!"
    Bran stepped forward a bit, head bowed. "With respect, my lord, Aeron and Gareth had nothing to do with this. this simply a quarrel between myself and Mered over my brother and sister," Bran explained.
    "Simply a quarrel? Simply a quarrel? And with what dire consequences? What could have gone wrong? Is a quarrel worth the risk of setting this camp on fire and bringing the English down on our heads?" the king roared.
    Bran shook his head. "No, my lord. It shames me to think that we may have done so. But it seemed right at the time, to protect the honor of Elen and Gwern. Punish me if you will, my lord, but give Aeron, Gareth, and Gwern leave to go. The family of Dylan was not involved here, nor was my brother."
    Mered stepped forward as well, head bowed. "He speaks truly, my lord. I spoke roughly and indeed, the grief for their lost sister is great."
The king sighed. "I have not the time to discipline you two. You will fight to prove your worthiness."
    Katrin moved forward slowly, as if resigned to her fate, but Elen grabbed her hand, stepping forward into Katrin's path to stop her. Her blue eyes were locked on the man, even as she moved. "Where?" she demanded.
    "Why, to England, of course," the man said, sounding surprised.
    "Do not force them to anger against us," Katrin whispered in Elen's ear.
    They walked forward together, leaving the room and following the man out into the bright sunlight. There a wagon waited for them, with two guards and a driver. The man left them, and the guards prodded them into the wagon. Soon, the wagon was bumping and rattling them along on a three day journey, though it seemed more like three years to Elen. Her side ached fiercely with each bump of the wagon, though she gritted her teeth and refused to show her pain.
    They halted finally at their destination- a fortress near the border of England and Wales. The building loomed menacingly in the darkness of late evening. Their guards prodded Katrin and Elen out of the wagon and into the fortress, where they were led to a room by a middle-aged woman with rich red-gold hair and deep blue eyes. She bustled them into the room and shooed the guards outside, shutting the door on them. Elen and Katrin looked at each other, wondering what to make of this woman.
    She quickly went over to them, sitting them down on the plain couch that lay alongside one wall of the room. "You poor things!" she mummered. Her accent was strange too, just as the young man's accent had been strange. "I'll go get you some food."
    Katrin and Elen exchanged looks as the woman bustled away. "She reminds me of my old nursemaid!" Katrin remarked. They laughed, for the first time in days.
    When the woman returned, she gave them the plates of food she carried in her arms, ordering them to eat. She then bustled around, making up two beds and lighting some lamps. Katrin and Elen watched her as they ate in silence. Finally, Elen's curiosity got the best of her.
    "Who are you?" she asked, holding back the flood of more questions welling up inside of her.
    The woman turned to them and smiled. "Me? I am Mary, wife to the brother of the lord who owns this place and cares for it."
    "Why are you being so kind to us?" Elen questioned.
    Mary laughed. "So many questions you have! You have had a hard journey, and in the morning, the King wants to know all he can about Wales. Of course, one of you is Llywellyn's daughter, though I can't tell- all you Welsh look alike, with your broad faces and dark hair... But which one of you is it?"



    "......Of course, one of you is Llywellyn's daughter, though I can't tell- all you Welsh look alike, with your broad faces and dark hair... But which one of you is it?"
    Elen and Katrin exchanged wary glances. Even this lady seemed to have ulterior motives. But Mary simply clucked and began to fuss again.
"You two darlings have a big day ahead of you come morning, and here I stand, flapping my mouth and only making you worried! Rest well. I'll see you in the morning," she said, and with that, bustled out the door.
    For a moment, Katrin and Elen sat in silence, with the light from the lamps dancing on the walls. Elen broke the silence. "Do you think she can be trusted?"
    "Mary? You heard her yourself. She wants to know which of us is Llywellyn's daughter. She is loyal to them, and loyal to their King- she is English, after all," Katrin answered, watching the door.
    "Then why is she being so nice to us?" Elen questioned.
    "She probably wants us to trust her. And if we do, that is when she betrays us, and we are the worse for it," Katrin replied. Elen looked at her, surprised by Katrin's cynical attitude.
    Katrin stifled a yawn. Tomorrow was to be awaited with uncertainty and dread, but at least the beds looked more comfortable than their earlier fare. Leaving the lamps burning, Katrin and Elen dragged themselves to the beds, falling asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.
    The battle was a roar of confusion. Arrows flitted overhead, falling from the sky, sometimes hitting their targets, other time burying their deadly heads into the ground. Most of the arrows were shot by Welsh archers, and those arrows more often than not found a target. Southern Wales had some of the best archers, and all Welsh people knew it. Gareth and Aeron were among the archers, while Gwern was on the ground. He was a berserker, and King Llywellyn had found out as soon as Gwern had fought in his first real battle. Berserkers were put to best use when fighting on foot.
    Bran fought in the same vicinity as his brother, with Caden and his older brother Awstin fighting at his side. The battle was thick, and Bran's sword arm was getting tired. He refused to quit, forcing his arm to raise and strike again and again. Gwern would need help when the battle was done, and Caden's sudden zeal for battle could prove dangerous. Awstin wouldn't be able to handle both Caden and Gwern.
    It was more of a skirmish than a battle, really. They had had skirmishes with the English army for some time now. Llywellyn knew what he was doing, keeping his forces hidden in the woods for the most part, and teasing the larger English army with raids and small battles that cost the English more men than it cost Llywellyn. It helped that they fought on familiar terrain, aided rather than hindered by the rugged landscape. The rocky, broken ground didn't serve well for the English style of fighting, which involved lining up in two lines and running at each other screaming.
The last of the English scout party that they had been fighting broke and ran. A roar went up from the Welsh fighters as they celebrated their victory. Bran ran over to Gwern as he dropped his sword and began to chase after the fleeing soldiers. He grappled with Gwern to stop his chase, while Caden looked out into the distance with deadened eyes. Awstin watched Bran and Gwern warily, ready to help if needed. In a rage, like most berserkers, the otherwise gentle Gwern often forgot who were his friends and who were his foes. In battle, he seemed very nearly invincible, but after battle, he needed medical tending. It was fortunate that there were healers among the Welsh forces. Abruptly, the last of Gwern's rage left him and he collapsed. Together, Awstin and Bran carried Gwern back to camp, while Caden followed absently.
    Once at the camp, with Gwern in the care of the healers, Bran confronted Caden, only to find that Awstin was already shouting at his brother.
"What is wrong with you, Cade? You are not yourself. You are bloodthirsty and vicious, and all the while care nothing for your fellow warriors!" Awstin exploded.
    Caden stirred, as if out of a deep sleep. His gray eyes burned with anger. "You prodded me into fighting for Elen! What more do you want, Awstin?!"
    "What do you want, Cade? Why are you like this?" Bran asked in return.
    Caden faced him, thinking. Bran had lost someone too- a sister. He calmed somewhat, answering Bran with a question of his own. "I am trying to think- what would Elen have thought- of me... fighting... like this?"
    Bran sighed, shaking his head. "You know she did not enjoy fighting, but she understood the need. This is our home. What would it be like under the rule of the English crown? She never wanted that."
    "What do you want us to do, Cade? You are destroying yourself," Awstin said, sounding tired.
    "I want to remember her- forever. I never want to forget. But most of all, I want her alive, and here, with me."


    Elen and Katrin were standing before King Edward the First of England as well as a few members of his court. The English noblemen were seated at long tables on either side of the king, who sat in a large throne that dominated the room. Guards stood on either side of Katrin and Elen, who stood close together. More guards were posted at the doors. 'As if we could escape without knowing our way around!' Elen thought. She lifted her chin high, staring defiantly back at the Englishmen. Katrin stood with hands clenched in folds of her skirt, self-conscious, but with head high.
    "We know not which of you is the daughter of Llywellyn of Wales. You must tell us! Be assured, we will find out which of you truly is, and if you lie, you will be punished severely," the English king was saying.
    "If they find out, they will kill you," Katrin whispered to Elen. "Say nothing, Elen ap Rhys, for you are of no use to them."
    Elen's eyes widened. They would kill her! She hadn't thought that she might be killed for not being Llywellyn's daughter. She shivered under the cold stares of the Englishmen, fancying that they could see her for who she was- simple Elen ap Rhys of Monmouth, by the river Wye- no use to them as a hostage.
    A fist was brought down hard on one of the tables at which the English noblemen were seated. "Speak, if you have tongues!" cried one of the Englishmen.
    Elen shot a look at Katrin, but the princess stood resolute, face firm, letting free no emotion. Elen returned her gaze to the noblemen, and then to the English king. Edward the first was extremely clever. With a knowing gaze down at the Welsh girls, he lifted a finger, gesturing toward Elen. With a leap, two guards caught her arms, dragging her away from Katrin. Elen screamed, fighting to get free, but she couldn't even gain her balance, much less her freedom against the guards. Katrin turned toward Elen, gray eyes wide with horror.
    "No!" she wailed.
    Elen rebuked herself harshly. Her fear had given her away. Her glance over toward Katrin, and the way she had listened when Katrin whispered, all had pointed to Katrin as the leader, and thus, the princess, daughter of Llywellyn. And Elen would pay for her mistake with her life.
    It was a little over a week since Bran, Gwern, and Caden had joined the Welsh camp. Skirmishes with the English and the hard life of the Welsh fighters had created a bond between the men. Bran had become well renowned as a loyal man and an excellent warrior, on the same level as Awstin. Caden was still not very personable, but his skill in fighting was held in high esteem. Thus, Bran was only mildly surprised when he, Awstin, and Caden were summoned to King Llywellyn's tent.
    "Bran ap Rhys, Awstin ap Dylan, and Caden ap Dylan. You three are among my finest warriors, and I have noticed the ease with which you work with each other. I have a request for you." Here Llywellyn paused, watching them.
    Bran, Awstin, and Caden exchanged glances, and then first Bran, and then Caden nodded. Awstin stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. "My lord, we are yours to command. Whatever you ask shall be achieved to the best of our ability."
    Llywellyn nodded. "My daughter Katrin has been captured. I have received word that she is in England, near the border, and that the English king is to question her. I want her out of England and back in Wales where she belongs. I would that you three do this for me."
    "We shall certainly try with all our strength, my lord," Bran promised.
    King Llywellyn nodded and rose, walking to a servant to take from him a map. Spreading the map out on a table, he gestured for Bran, Awstin, and Caden to join him. He pointed at a fortress not far from the border, one of the many that had been built by the English in preparation for the taking of Wales. Even now, the English king was building more castles in Wales as staging areas for battles.
    "Here is where she is held, and here is where we are. It will take some three days to reach her at an average pace, but riding swiftly, you may save valuable time. Horses will be made ready for you."
    "My lord Llywellyn, may I request that we ride with the horses that I and my siblings and Caden came here on? My father has bred champion Welsh cobs- they will take us swift and sure," Bran said.
    "Aye. Go now, and ready yourselves," Llywellyn answered.
    "We leave as soon as we can," Awstin said as they nodded to Llywellyn and walked out of the tent and toward the horses.
    It wasn't difficult to pick out the horses of Rhys. Bran led all four out of the pen, for Elen's mare had been recaptured and put with the other horses. Giving Gwern's stallion to Awstin, Bran bridled and mounted his own horse. Caden chose Elen's mare to ride, leaving his stallion to be the packhorse. In little time, they were ready.
    Bran gave a look around as they left camp. They were in Northern Wales now, and the land here was different, less rugged than Bran's native Southern Wales. But it was still Wales, and still home.

    It took a little less than two days to get to the fortress Llywellyn had pointed out on the map. They rode hard, not stopping until they absolutely had to, and resting for as little time as they could. When they reached the fortress, the sun had just sunk beneath the horizon. Bran, Caden, and Awstin dropped from the saddles to the ground lightly, ignoring sore muscles. They led the horses slowly toward the fortress, as quietly as possible. As they expected, the fortress was guarded. Bran tied the horses reins together in a loose knot and dropped it to the ground, trusting the horses to their training. With that done, they crept forward, each unsheathing a knife.
    Their goal was to get into the fortress as quickly and quietly as possible, find the princess, and leave. They snuck up behind the first set of guards, dispatching them without a sound. Bran grimaced, glancing over at Caden. Somehow it seemed like cheating, to kill without a fair fight, but Caden seemed distant, and Awstin didn't seem to care. They continued on.
    The king watched with a calculating gaze, eyes on Katrin as the guards dragged Elen away. Elen pulled herself together, trying to look brave, her blue eyes locked on Katrin's gray eyes. Katrin crumpled to the ground, tears filling her eyes.
    "Stop!" the king called out. The guards halted, and Elen turned her gaze on the English monarch as he spoke, though his words were for Katrin.
    "Daughter of Llywellyn, you must tell us where your rebel father is." Wordlessly, Katrin shook her head, glaring at Edward I. The English king looked at the guards. "Strike the commoner."
    Elen barely had time to wonder who the king was talking about before the guard's fist collided forcefully with her cheek. She dropped to the ground, holding her hands to the quickly forming bruise on her face. Katrin screamed.
    "Stop! Stop!" Katrin pleaded, looking in horror at Elen.
    Calmly, the king replied, "Tell us where your father is."
    Elen shook her head, watching Katrin. When Katrin hesitated, the guard kicked Elen harshly. Elen curled up, refusing to cry out in pain. Katrin began to weep, torn between her new friendship with Elen and her loyalty to her father.
    "Let her think on it," the king said, standing. "Tomorrow, bring both here again, and the questioning will continue. But then, the commoner will begin to loose appendages should Llywellyn's daughter withhold information or lie to us."
    Elen and Katrin were led back to their room, Elen stumbling painfully after Katrin. When they entered their room, Mary was there. She gasped. seeing Elen.
    "You poor thing! What have they done to you?" she cried, putting her arm around Elen and leading her to a bed.
    Mary took a cloth and dipped it in water from a basin by the beds. With the cloth, she washed Elen's face, careful around the bruise, while Katrin explained what had happened, tears still trickling down her pale cheeks.
    "They found out that I am Llywellyn's daughter, and tried to force me to betray my father by hurting Elen when I did not respond as they wished," Katrin explained tearfully.
    She turned suddenly, glaring at Mary and ripping the cloth from her hand. Mary looked up, startled as Katrin raged, "Why do I tell this to you? You are one of them- an Englishwoman, and therefore my enemy! Stay away from me, Mary, and stay away from Elen!"
    Mary blinked a few times, confused. Elen looked at Katrin from where she lay on the bed. "Katrin....."
    Mary shook her head. "My dear, I am not your enemy. Would I care for you if I was? Certainly not! You must understand, not all Englishmen are as the king. Not all are good, but not all are bad either. The king has a dream, and he seeks to make that dream reality. I daresay that not all Welsh are good and kind either, but certainly not all are bad. Do you understand?"
    Slowly, Katrin nodded. She couldn't very well refute Mary's arguments. She knew they were true. "What can I do?" she said in a forlorn whisper.
    "That I do not know, my dear. That I do no know," Mary replied.
    Later that night, while Elen and Katrin were sleeping, the door to their room slowly opened. A black-topped head looked into the room and then retreated from view. A moment later, dark haired men entered the room, dressed in servant's garb. One stood at the door to guard it while the other made his way to the beds.
    "Princess Katrin!" he whispered. "Princess!"
    Katrin awoke with a gasp, sitting up. She peered into the darkness. Again the whisper came, and she made out a dark form standing near her, hand outstretched.
    "We've come to take you home," the form whispered. He turned to the other man, "There's another. I'll get her."
    The man picked up Elen and led Katrin out. They hurried through the halls, presently joined by an armor clad man. They were almost to the doors when a few guards spotted them and yelled for them to stop.
    "Run!" the armor clad man yelled, turning back and drawing his sword with a clang.
    The commotion woke Elen. She opened her eyes to find herself being carried out of the castle, with Katrin running beside whoever carried her. An armor clad man and another man in servant's clothing were fighting the guards as they retreated slowly. Sometimes, a voice from the commotion would sound familiar.
    They were at the horses. The man who carried her, aware that she was awake, set Elen on her feet. "Get on a horse," he told them. He looked over at the fight. "We ride!" he shouted.
    Elen recognized that voice for certain. She also recognized the horses as she helped Katrin mount her mare, Ewyn. Elen looked over at their rescuer as the other two men ran toward them.
    "Bran?" she asked, daring to believe this was real.
    Bran turned, looking at her in disbelief. "Elen?" he asked, peering into her face. Slowly, he let himself believe. "Elen!" he roared with joy, hugging his sister tightly.
    Just then, Caden and Awstin came running up. "We have to go- now!" Awstin shouted, vaulting up onto his horse. Elen mounted her mare, sitting behind Katrin, and Bran and Caden mounted their own horses. With a clatter of hooves, they rode for the border.
    They rode until dawn, saying little. Bran kept silent, planning to let Caden find out about Elen for himself with first light. But when first light came and they stopped to rest the horses and sleep, Caden was too tired to realize who Elen was. They slept.
    Awstin came to wake them. "Princess, we must ride again," he told Katrin, Katrin and Elen stirred and rose. Awstin looked at Elen, puzzled, and then recognition lit his eyes. "Elen!" he cried, hugging her.
    Elen yelped as Awstin unintentionally hurt her bruises, but smiled as he released her. Caden looked over at them, hearing Elen's name. Seeing her, he walked forward slowly, unable to convince himself he wasn't dreaming. His pace quickened as he neared her, and then he stopped, incredulously drinking in the sight of her.
    "It's me," Elen said with a smile.
    "Elen..." Caden breathed, and then he went to her, taking her hands in his. He reached up to touch the bruise on her face, his own face hardening with anger, but his hand stopped short and he thought better of it, not wanting to hurt her. "I thought you were dead! Who did this to you, Elen?"
    "We need to move," Awstin reminded them, helping Katrin on the mare. Caden nodded, leading Elen to her mare and lifting her up behind Katrin. He looked at her for a moment, and then left abruptly to remount.
    They rode long and hard, but not as hard s when they had come, for Elen and Katrin's sakes. By the time they reached Llywellyn's camp, Caden was back to the old Caden. He had ceased to be the vicious warrior who only came alive in battle, but had returned to the poetic warrior who courted Elen. Neither he nor Elen would forget their experiences, but Elen taught Caden of Mary's words, dampening in him the fury roused by the effects of the treatment the English had given her.
    "Revenge and anger can become chains, Caden. As for me, let me live free, or die."

    Llywellyn the Last led the Welsh people in various uprisings between 1277 and 1282. In the year 1282, King Edward I's forces caught Llywellyn and beheaded him. The Welsh uprising was crushed. Before in history, Wales had defeated both Norse and Roman invaders and had never been conquered, but in that year, the land fell to England. Now, at first glance, Wales seems part of England, but although Wales has receded to obscurity, its people are still Welsh rather than British. They still have their own language, their own flag, their own national symbols (the dragon and the daffodil), and their own customs separate from England. Whether or not Wales was truly conquered is a matter of interpretation.