The River Cefni, Ynys Dryyll, 853 AD
The River Cefni, Ynys Dryyll, 853 ADIt was early morning, just after Prime, when the king’s messenger, a short, wiry individual with sunken cheeks and protuberant grey eyes bowed before Alun. When he straightened, he spoke with a lilting voice in a pleasingly clear and unhesitating voice. Alun preferred the quality of confidence in his fellow men, so smiled encouragingly at the unprepossessing, but competent, dispatch rider. His pony, in a panting, lathered state, now with a stable boy wiping it down, revealed to Alun that the emissary had ridden hard to bring his message as quickly as possible.
“Lord, our beloved King Rhodri commands you to take your men with all haste to the Cefni valley. It is but two leagues and another mile hence. The king says t
