27: Cradoc
W
hen
the host of men and cattle were still far away from Craig Dun and dusk had fallen over the village as though a giant had clasped it in his dark hand, a lank-haired fellow with a cast in his right eye shambled inside the stockade and stared towards the fires in the compound, about which the warriors of both folk stood gossiping or boasting of their prowess with horse or arrow, sword or sling-stone.
At last his questing eyes picked out the man he looked for and pulling his drab-coloured cloak up about his neck he moved like a shadow towards his quarry.
‘Cradoc,’ he whispered at last. The man he sought turned with a little shock at the voice he knew so well.
‘Come away from the fire glow,’ said Cradoc cautiously. ‘We may talk more freely near the stockade gates.’
And w
