Free Daughter of Time: A Time Travel Romance by Sarah Woodbury Page B

until we enter it,” Goronwy
said.
    “I don’t know of whom Marged speaks,” I
said. “But whoever this Owain Glendower was, he should have known
better than to ride through Coedwig Gap without precautions.”
    “We should divide the company,” Goronwy
said.
    “Do it,” I said. “Take Marged and half the
men along the road and the rest of us will ride across the fields.
That leaves both of us with twenty-five men—still a formidable
force.”
    I pulled my horse out of line. “Come!” Hywel
and I led our men off the road, urging our horses across the fields
that separated us from the unnamed village. The men were on high
alert; those with bows strung them, the rest of us had unsheathed
our swords, riding with the bare blade ready for use.
    “I don’t like it,” Hywel said. “If it looks
like a trap and smells like a trap, it’s probably a trap.”
    We slowed our horses as we reached the
summit of the last hill before the village. It lay before us, quiet
in the sunshine. Nothing stirred except the three scouts I’d sent
ahead. They worked their way from hut to hut, looking for
survivors. It was a village of twenty thatched huts, all burning,
with a small green. It was the green that drew our attention. The
possessions of the villagers had been piled in its center, ten feet
on a side and another fifteen feet high, and lit. The entire wealth
of the village was going up in flames.
    “Mother of Christ!” Hywel breathed. “We
don’t have time for this.”
    “Only goods, not bodies,” I said. I wheeled
my horse around. “A trap, but not for us! To Coedwig Gap!”
    The company flowed into formation behind us
as Hywel and I hit the track heading west at speed, back to where
our companions rode. We knew these roads, had ridden them many
times before; a path ahead led to the back side of the hill that
overlooked the road at Coedwig Gap. The view from above would give
us the opportunity to assess the situation without falling into a
trap ourselves.
    “Goronwy would not have been surprised
easily,” Hywel said, through teeth gritted in concentration.
    “He shouldn’t have been surprised at all,” I
said. “It’s the possible numbers he faces that worries me.”
    Spying the path, Hywel signaled with his
sword and the men followed us up the trail. It was steep on this
side but our horses were bred for the Welsh mountains and didn’t
falter. We came out of the trees on the crest of the hill and
looked down onto the road below, a heavily treed hollow with hills
that rose sharply on either side.
    Hywel cursed beside me. “ S'mae
cwd !”
    My twenty-five men were in brutal
hand-to-hand combat with a company of men who hadn’t the honor to
wear the colors of their lord. A few had managed to keep their
seats, but Goronwy was unhorsed, feet planted, astride the body of
another man. I didn’t see Marged.
    I gave Hywel a quick assessing glance and
raised my sword. “ Am Cymry !”
    The men cheered and spurred their horses. We
surged down the hill in a massed cavalry charge, that even with two
dozen men, implied overwhelming force. The enemy, whoever they
were, were unprepared to be hit from behind.
    As always in the face of battle, my insides
turned cold and my hearing dulled, even as my vision sharpened.
Slicing through the arm of one man, I caught the neck of another on
the upswing. I registered the cries and calls of pain, but they
didn’t disrupt my focus. I reached the edge of the road, having
passed through the main body of the men and checked my horse in
front of Goronwy. While a few survivors raced north from the
battle, in less than two minutes, my men had driven through the
intruders. Their bodies lay strewn across the road and hillside. It
was a sight I’d seen many times, and always hoped never to see
again.
    Hywel breathed hard beside me. “We’ll get
after them, my lord.”
    He pointed his sword and a rush of men
chased after the remainders. One of my men pursued and overtook a
man on foot and