Hugh traversed the Welsh countryside, leading Path Cutter from inn to inn each night as not to wear the gelding out, varying his speed from walk to trot to canter to gallop. His companions trailed him. His wife"s absence at the house was like an arrow shot through his heart. Her face before him, the joy of her companionship, it had all given him, a reason to return home, something to live for. The battle’s triumphant outcome gratified his needs as a warrior, but when all the battle cries faded, his beloved fulfilled him as a man—a man with desires, cravings, and his lifelong wish—to be loved.
Losing track of the days, though he believed it was at least six, he crossed the Welsh border. The tops of Abercraf Castle"s turrets soon appeared in the distance, atop the hill. The shouts of childr
