A/N I'm really sorry for how long it has taken me to do ANYTHING on this story. I got side tracked writing Warlord! Thanks to Delandred for reviewing and also for inspiring me to pick this back up!

Caer Duinn

1057

North Morien

Caer Duinn stood on the banks of the Aber Alltyn. It lay over forty leagues from Barrag and it was the second largest city in all of Morien after Caer Canach. In the failing light it was easy to see why the Boar clan had done so well for itself.

The city was large by most standards and crammed into every available space lay houses, shops and taverns of various sizes and shapes. Built into the north side of the city’s ramparts, two hexagonal towers rose into the blood red sky like sentinels watching over the rolling plains that surrounded the settlement. A moat had been dug around the steep embankment below the ramparts and here and there on the outer walls it was possible to see the scars of war chipped out of the stone. Catapults were a favourite weapon amongst the Samorien clans and every city in Morien had the marks to prove it.

To the west lay the more affluent part. Limestone buildings rose gracefully into the skyline against the curtained wall that marked the boundary of the city, and dotted amongst them were patches of green: gardens for the rich men and women of the city. The south was a different matter. The slums and the stench was enough to turn even the bravest man away and if that didn’t, the threat of thieves, and murderers certainly was.

Towards the centre stood the Brudh itself, hemmed in by a circle wall that rose over twenty feet high. Its towers and walls seemingly made of gold, shimmered and shined in the last light of the day making the entire city appear grander that it actually was. It had stood for just under six hundred years in stone and prior to that it had been a squat structure with nothing more than a tower and a wooden palisade.

Gwydion glanced up as the war band rode into the courtyard of the Brudh. It was a large square containing a smithy, a fletchers and also the barracks themselves. An archway led through to a second courtyard and to the main doors of the Brudh itself. Swinging out of his saddle, Gwydion handed his reins to a small blond page and slung his saddle bag over his shoulder.

“Captain?”

He turned around as the healer approached. He was a strange man and one that Gwydion was still trying to fathom out. On the one hand he knew this man deserved respect but he was dressed no better than a vagrant. His patched cloak was mud stained and his boots were scuffed and broken at the sole. He had spent a good deal of his time trying to discern how old the man was but had finally come to the conclusion that he had no idea. He could have been anywhere between thirty and a hundred for all he knew. Despite this, Gwydion felt as if this man had the ability to solve all problems. It was a feeling that had nagged at him constantly on the four day ride from Barrag.

“Tristain. Is there a problem?”

“Nay, there is not, truly. I was just wondering were the wounded men are.”

“I’ll take you to them shortly, but here comes Lord Lochlainn.”

He half bowed, his saddle bag preventing him from doing otherwise, as Lochlainn approached. The Marked Alach was tall at six foot and had a shock of black hair that fell just short of his chin in tight curls. Unlike the men he was wearing a soft blue tunic, a pair of woollen trousers and the clan plaid was slung around his shoulders. Despite his casual dress he was every inch a lord, straight backed and regal. Inclining his head slightly in acknowledgment of Gwydion, he turned and watched the men dismounting and unloading their mounts.

“Seven more recruits? You have done well, Gwydo.”

Gwydion rubbed his hand across his chin, noting that he needed to shave badly.

“And a herb man.”

Lochlainn turned and studied Tristain who was stood apathetically watching the exchange.

“You have my thanks, good man. We have many wounded and your skills will be greatly appreciated.”

“I am at your service, My Lord.”

Lochlainn smiled warmly before walking away and signalled for Gwydion to follow him. Obligingly, the Captain followed.

“Somewhat wrong My Lord?”

Lochlainn scowled.

“Don’t call me that.” He fell silent, seemingly staring at nothing. “Its good to have you back, Gwydo.”

Gwydion frowned.

“What’s so wrong?”

Lochlainn shrugged and dug the end of his boot into the ground irritably.

“I love you like you were my own brother and not my aunt’s son. We have been through a lot over the years, have we not?”

Gwydion nodded studying his cousin with a small frown. He knew his cousin well enough to see he was deeply troubled.

“What’s the matter, Lochlainn?”

“Did you happen to see my wife on your way into the Brudh?”

Gwydion’s heart skipped a beat and an invisible icy hand gripped his stomach.

“Do you think she is harmed?”

He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice but he felt worry consuming him. These were dangerous times. Any thing could have happened to her. Porthladd could have abducted her, she could have fallen and hurt herself, she could have been murdered… the list was endless as it swirled around his mind like a storm threatening to get out of control. She was the Marked Alachs wife and one day she would carry the next heir of the Kingdom. She was an easy target.

“Ye Gods! I doubt it.” Lochlainn scowled. “I love that woman to death, Gwydo, but over the last couple of months things have changed somewhat. She used to be so attentive but lately she’s different. The way she looks at me sometimes, I swear she despises me.” He spoke quietly but there was hurt in his voice. He shook his head. “At times I think she can’t stand being near me.”

Gwydion sighed with relief but Lochlainn mistook his action.

“Truly I know that I am lucky to have found such a good wife and I’m not a child, I know that marriages arranged such as ours was are rarely happy ones, but sometimes I feel that no matter how much I put into it she will never think it is enough.”

“She is young Lochlainn. Give her time to get used to you and she will come around sure enough.”

Lochlainn grunted but shrugged uncomfortably.

“My apologies. I should not have said that.”

“Lochlainn, you are my cousin and I love you well. I will do anything for you. Even if it involves listening to you whining like a mule.”

Gwydion grinned at him and after a moment Lochlainn laughed.

“Well, truly I am whining. If you could find my wife however I will be eternally in your debt.”

Putting his hand on his shoulder, Gwydion patted him like a master would his dog.

“I’ll find her.”

“My thanks. I’ll find a page to get the new recruits fed and watered.”

Gwydion nodded and watched Lochlainn walk away. He envied him everything. He had the world at his feet. He had land and a title and a good woman at his side. He had really fallen on his feet with Bryn. She was beautiful, smart and everything about her was lovely. Gwydion scowled at himself for thinking in such a manner and for the hundredth time since she had come to Caer Duinn, Gwydion realised that he loved his cousin’s wife to well.