"So you like wine," he chuckled.

"It is good," she replied.

"Do you have everything you wish to take?" he asked her.

"There isn't much," she answered, "but I've put it in our mam's shawl." She handed him the small bundle, its corners tied together, if not neatly, tightly.

"Go outside, and take the lad," he told her. "I will be there in a moment."

"What are you going to do?" she demanded of him.

He looked directly at her, his dark eyes meeting her green ones. "I'm going to burn the cot," he said, but she did not, to his surprise, object. Instead she nodded, and taking her brother in her charge, exited the dwelling. Ap Gruffydd emitted a small bark of laughter. Vala had been all softness and spicy sweet. This daughter of theirs was as hard as flint. Even as I am, he smiled to himself grimly. He took the reed torch he had made earlier and thrust it into the fireplace to catch the flame. When it was burning well he walked about the small cottage, setting it ablaze as he worked his way toward the open door.

Once outside he flung the torch hack into the room and stood with his son and his daughter, watching as the cottage burned itself to the ground When there was nothing left of the little building, he said, "We will go now. The ground is wet, and the embers left will not spread." He went to his horse tied to a nearby tree, undoing the reins. "Rhonwyn, you will ride behind me. Glynn before me." He lifted the little boy onto the saddle, noting the sudden fear in the child's eyes as he did so. It was the first time his son had ever been astride an animal. "Addien is a well-trained beast, lad. Someday I will see you have a horse every bit as good. Perhaps one of his offspring. Would you like that?" He pulled himself up onto his mount, putting a strong and comforting arm about Glynn.

"Aye, Tad" came the reply, a bit unsure, but the little voice was strong. He was no longer afraid.