The Beast of Caer Baddan by Rebecca Vaughn Read Free Book Online

never seen an Angle that size.
    Owain was impressed but too determined to relent. He was certain that his mother watched him and would show her that he was worthy.
    Both men drew their swords and readied their shields, circling each other. Owain felt the knight's gaze burning in his eyes.
    Sir Horik darted forward, and Owain moved back out of the way, letting his enemy's heavy swing strike the air before him. The knight swung again, yet Owain stepped aside, as the blow hit the beach and threw sand into the air. Owain darted down, as a third strike went flying over his head.
    The knight's right now exposed, Owain found his mark. In one movement, he sliced through his neck and forearm. Sir Horik spat blood, and his whole body trembled until he sank to the ground.
    Owain looked up at the group of Angles, standing a distance away, and noted their tension and uncertainty.
    “Come then and fight me, all of you,” he whispered.
    Then the Angle King motioned to two of the men who then went forward and lifted the body away. The group walked off to their waiting long boat, and soon disappeared into the distant water.
    The knights erupted with cheers.
    “Owain! Owain! Owain!” they cried.
    Owain lowered his weapon and breathed deeply of sea air.

    The next six days were filled with marching, bringing the Army south, out of the cold North Country and down into the Kingdom of Lerion. Owain spent the mornings teaching young Annon, the afternoons riding ahead of the marching soldiers, and the evenings with different partners. He found that the women from the cities were impressed by his newest heroics, and those from the countryside seemed glad to have any attention.
    “You should marry, Owain,” Swale said, as they sat around the table eating breakfast.
    “You only say that because you are,” Owain replied.
    Annon laughed aloud then covered his mouth in embarrassment.
    “It is true that I am married,” Swale said, quietly mocking a solemn confession, “but that does not change the validity of my suggestion.”
    “Marriage cannot keep him from chasing women,” Britu said, his irritation plain on his freckled face. “Only death shall do that.”
    It was now Owain’s turn to laugh.
    “You are five and twenty, and we have long known that your father wishes it of you,” Swale said, obviously ignoring Britu. “And now, we are once more in Lerion, where most of our Andoco clan still abides. Just pick a lady and ask her to marry you. I can guaranty, she shall not say no.”
    “That's what he fears,” Britu said.
    “Message for Britu Prince of Atrebat,” said a servant, who stood in the doorway of the meeting tent.
    The servant stepped forward and placed the rolled parchment on the careless palm of Britu’s outstretched hand.
    The meat was brought in, and they helped themselves to hearty portions.
    Britu read his letter, while Swale talked on.
    “You think too much of the soldiers and war,” Swale said to Owain. “You need a wife to go home to.”
    Although many of their clan had prompted Owain to marry, Owain could not recall Swale ever speaking of it.
    “I'm certain my father has convinced you to say this,” he replied, with a sly smile. “It is not like you to play the go-between.”
    Swale laughed but did not deny the accusation.
    “But I must consider the soldiers,” Owain continued. “I neither have the time nor the inclination for a wife. I alone am accountable for the men. No one was made a dominae, besides myself. It is my responsibility. I'm only grateful to be out of the bitter cold. I did not like the supplies being interrupted.”
    “But they got through,” Annon said. “And nothing was lost.”
    “And until they did, the Brigantae fed us well,” Swale said.
    “Too well,” Owain said, with a serious thought. “They had to feed us, but because they did, they were not nearly as generous with gifts as they would have been. Fewer gifts means that, once more, I'm in danger of not making the soldiers'