Eirwen’s protest.

Eirwen had just finished eating the delicious rabbit and its bones littered the sandy floor of this cave, making her think of Bledri again and missing his silent, comforting presence. She used a little fingernail to dislodge a piece of meat from between two teeth, before taking a small clay bottle with a cork stopper from a saddlebag. She pulled the cork with her teeth and took a swig of the wirod-mywyd and grimaced as the fiery, honeyed liquor burned her throat. Taking another big swig of this ‘spirit of life’ she swallowed this one more easily, before she re-stoppered the bottle and returned it to its satchel. Eirwen froze then as she heard Tringad whinny, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of breaking branches outside, as something big pushed hard through the undergrowth. It couldn’t be her horse or any other familiar creature as animals didn’t crash through bushes, unless it was a lynx or a bear. Her pulse quickened at this thought, but these dangerous predators hadn’t been seen in these lowlands for decades.

Eirwen’s nerves jangled and her heart began to thump in her chest then, at the thought of confronting a fully-grown she-bear looking for a new home perhaps for her soon to be born cubs. Her breathing became shallow as she tried to place the noise, which had abruptly stopped and Tringad had become silent again, which was even more worrying and confusing, as he would be screaming if a bear or a mountain-cat had entered his circle. Another sound came from outside the cave but much closer this time and the blessed juice of action coursed through her veins with a surge but Eirwen watched in horror, as a big strange man pushed his way through the dense bushes at the cave’s entrance. Two more big and dangerous looking men followed him in, all grinning broadly as they took-in the scene before them in a flash. Eirwen was confronted by three scruffy and filthy looking rogues, who had suddenly trapped her in this cave.  

Her blood turned to ice-water as the situation crashed into her senses, her bowels turning to hot liquid. The consequences of her rash actions presented themselves now, in the form of three atavistic looking brigands, who plainly couldn’t believe their good fortune. ‘Of all the times to be without my loyal and ferocious Bledri and this happens!’ She thought forlornly, her heart sinking. Eirwen missed his guardianship in that horrifying blink of time, more than she had ever done, as he could have made all the difference here at this fateful moment. On his own Bledri could have driven these ruffians from this cave, and with a few well-placed arrows swiftly following she could have held her cave indefinitely, but she was alone. Her eyes flashed to her silver-tipped bow then and the fawn deerskin quiver of arrows beside it, but the first man-in followed her glance and laughed.

“I wish you would try missy, I really do!” This hulking stranger slobbered in a thick western brogue through a tangled, unkempt and greasy beard. Three teeth were alone in his ugly head, two up and one down and these were lopsided brown stumps, through which saliva dribbled over the wide expanse of his wet, pink gums, making Eirwen feel like vomiting with fear and loathing. She moved backwards slowly, still crouching as the man picked up her bags, upturning each one so all her belongings fell to the floor.

“Leave my things alone, you ugly pig!” She screamed at him and all three began laughing as they moved into the cave and began rummaging through her personal stuff, blocking any flight to exit. Eirwen’s simmering anger broke at this rough treatment of her kit and she stepped up to the first man boldly. “I said leave my possessions alone! Do you know who I..!” The heavy backhand slap caught her completely off-guard, to her own amazement and she sprawled backwards to the floor, her face burning, and the brute’s cohorts laughed even more.
“Let’s cnuch her and then kill her, slowly!” The second man drawled like a village idiot, his vacuous face cruel without a shred of intelligence and Eirwen quailed, as it became clear what was about to happen to her.

Her legs began to tremble as the men began to move ominously toward her, the half-wit unbuckling the leather belt that constrained his huge beer-belly in preparation. Something happened then inside her, and it was like the breaking of a twig.  One moment Eirwen was trembling like a new-born lamb, fighting a ballooning panic and waves of mortal terror and the next she was suddenly cold and focused, with no trembling signs of her rising fear. Her anger had suddenly flared like lightning in a building storm, bright and fierce and she surreptitiously drew her dagger from behind her back and sprang at the man, like a highland lioness.

Eirwen ducked under the unwieldy right fist he threw at her head, the left clutching his unfastened bracs and exactly as she’d been trained to do, she came-up fast from the crouch and stabbed upwards into his chest, feeling the blade slide fortuitously between two ribs. Knowing she’d have to be as quick as a stoat, she whipped the knife away as the man screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his wound and trying to staunch the bleeding. Eirwen turned toward the second man to repeat the lightning attack and ‘Bang!’ She was punched in the face and her dagger flew from numb fingers.

Falling stunned to the floor with blood pouring from her nose and a rushing sound roaring in her ears, she struggled to remain conscious on the dirt of this cave floor. Eirwen watched through her swimming vision, as the two men tried to help their stricken friend, but blood was now pouring from his mouth as well as the chest wound, which sucked with every agonised breath. The man gave a great convulsion then and died, spewing a huge gout of thick blood which fountained from his gaping mouth.

“Tha’s moi brudder!” The third and smaller man wailed. “You kill’t him, you cnuching bitch!” He screamed, picking up her bloodied dagger and advancing on her, clearly incensed and bent on murder. The other, biggest man held him back however, enveloping him in two huge arms and lifting him off the floor.

“Calm down Beagan!” He yelled in his ear, holding him tight in the enormous bear-hug. “When did you ever cnuch such a beautiful girl eh?” He asked the wriggling man. “Let us do what we set out to do and rape the bitch first, then we’ll kill her nice and easy over this fire of hers.” He said maliciously, and the younger man and brother of the deceased relaxed and began to nod. He was put down and he stayed there, but his eyes were locked onto Eirwen’s with the most murderous and vengeful look twisting his pinched face, which turned her bowels to a loose, liquid heat.

“Ay, you better have your go first Dev, as there won’t be much left of the bitch to roast by the time I’m through with her!” He snarled the oath, so that his words carried their full meaning and his blazing eyes didn’t leave Eirwen’s for a moment, causing the trembling in her legs to start again. Suddenly the big man moved deceptively quickly and leaned down to grab her by the hair, forcing her to stand and then he punched her again on the side of her jaw and Eirwen didn’t feel herself fall or thud to the hard floor this time, she just floated away in a dazzling nova of light.

She almost passed clean out this time but although stunned, the explosion of light faded quickly and part of her still clung to consciousness. Still attentive to what was going on and aware of the hard earth beneath her once more, Eirwen could feel him tugging at her and at her clothes. Strangely she was passed caring, as little dancing lights bounced around her vision and as these bright lights finally winked out one-by-one, she felt as though she was falling backwards into a deep black chasm. Eirwen felt a crushing weight on her abdomen then, drawing her back a little from the deep as the fat one sat astride her, pinning her arms down and laughing at her.

“You’re going to love what I’ve got here for you missy.” He breathed and Eirwen could smell her whisky on his foul breath and discern the lust that gravelled his voice and it brought her back, firing her temper once more. She felt a little strength flow back into her as her head cleared and she began to struggle again, fighting back against this crushing entrapment. Her vision was improving somewhat, and her head was still woolly, but it was clearing, oh so slowly.  Iron-hard hands then crushed her breasts, making her cry-out with the savage pain and her anger fired again as the man tore at her clothing. Eirwen fought and struggled against his rough and hairy hands but they were huge, gnarled and his strength was overpowering. His weight alone was something she could never hope to counter, but Eirwen wasn’t going to surrender to this beast as long as she had one breath left in her body. Loathing and disgust welled-up inside her then, goading her anger and appalling her in equal measure, as her attacker had spat a great mouthful of hot, sweaty saliva into her face and then he fell on her.

Eirwen was shocked and sickened by this face-full of hot slobber which had blinded her and the colossal dead-weight of this man which continued to crush the wind out of her. Even as the bile rose up to burn her throat, she valiantly struggled against him, bucking and shoving at his immovable bulk and spitting the filth from her mouth. She wrestled with him for long moments before realising with a sudden cold shock, that he really was dead.

It wasn’t spittle that wet her face but the man’s hot blood and the weight of him vanished as suddenly as it had dropped on her, as the bleeding corpse was yanked off her and discarded like a broken doll.  It was thrown into a corner with ease by the towering figure of Nêr Olwydd Hîr; the ghost-warrior. The relief at seeing his craggy war-face and his blue-cat tattoo through the blood and tears was immense and overwhelming, making her feel far more light-headed than the mortal danger ever had. The familiar giant smiled down at her, terrifying and wonderful all at once and offering her his enormous hand. Eirwen took it in stunned amazement and the huge ghost-warrior restored her to her feet, whereupon she rushed into his arms.

“Oh my Gods Olwydd, I have never been so pleased to see anyone in all my life!” She declared, sobbing through her tears and clinging to him. Olwydd was both surprised and pleased at this demonstration, his deep paternal feelings for his revered and beloved Princess swelling along with his pride as she shuddered in his embrace.

“Think nothing of it your Royal Highness.” Olwydd demurred, putting both muscular arms around her. “I will always be your protector and I am sworn by blood-oath to do so as long as I am able, my brave, honourable Princess.” He said gruffly, lifting her face and wiping away the blood. Inspecting the damage to her nose and satisfied she was in no mortal danger, he glanced down to the dead brigand at his feet. Looking back at her with that wry and familiar smile, he inclined his head. “Did you kill that one?” He asked her.

Eirwen nodded, her eyes full of tears and her nose and face still smeared with her attacker’s and her own blood, but her beautiful face hardened and her eyes blazed.

“I did!” She admitted with a proud sniff, seeing the other’s throat had been cut and he had joined his brother in the Underworld. “Bastard thought raping me would come easy!” She spat on the man at her feet, with his glazed eyes and long, blood-clotted beard and Olwydd began to laugh.

A few minutes later, Olwydd released a bird of message from a reed cage on his horse and then returned to the cave to help his Princess repack and assemble her luggage, glad her beloved horse was unharmed. A little after noon, they were both headed back to the Caer at an easy walking pace for the horses and they began to talk to each other, as friends.

“Why?” Was Olwydd’s first question, and so Eirwen opened up to the fearsome warrior, telling him all about Cadwy and her feelings, hopes and dreams. She told him of her crushing news, of her arranged marriage to Prince Wrad and all her fears. As Bel turned to blood in the west, they finally approached the flat plain of familiar land, that lay in a fine sweeping bend of the Afon Carryn and the distant, misty low hill of CaerCamelon rising in the distance. Time had flown, and they had become firm friends, but she was at once nervous again now, knowing what she was about to face. Strangely now, Olwydd’s presence seemed to bolster her confidence as now she had unburdened herself to him, the prospect of her father’s wrath and all his impending questions and expected anger didn’t seem quite so bad. Olwydd had promised her that he would take a message to Cadwy and explain her situation to him personally, with her impassioned plea to make-sure he understood that she had been forced into the situation she was now struggling to come to terms with.

With the ghost-warrior’s assurances giving her some grain of comfort, Eirwen steeled herself to face the music as riders approached to meet them in the dusk.

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