40
Arawn snorted and danced under Celyn, his eyes rolling, and Celyn tugged hard on the reins to settle the stallion down. “Easy,” he said, absently patting the stallion’s neck as he scanned the trees alongside the path. “Byddwch mean heddwch.”
Be at peace. Thomas eyed Celyn, and seeing the tension in his face, thought the words were as much for the Welshman as for the big black stallion, who had been skittish and fretful ever since they had entered a thick forest of gnarled trees.
Beside him, Father Eata’s bay gelding tossed his head up and down, eyes showing white. In contrast Missy stood placidly underneath Thomas, ears pricked but content, and Thomas leaned down and patted her glossy neck, taking some comfort in her calm.
The fact was, the place was spooky. He had felt uneasy ever
