Seventeen years later.

“Cerri come along sweetheart!” Leah called as she looked out of the small vardo. 

A tall elegant young woman with long raven hair and sparkling sapphire eyes stood up.  “Coming, good mother.”  She called back to the elder woman.  Standing the woman showed the long elegant lines of Lady Eleanor of Triscoi. 

Her eyes held a hint of something darker.  Raised amongst the Gypsy’s, Cerridwen of Triscoi was completely unaware of her nobility or what her father had been or the evil he had done.

Leah and her blacksmith husband had concentrated on teaching the young woman the value of hard work and compassion.  Like a lot of the gypsy girls, she was a performer.  An exquisite dancer and soft voiced singer she often managed to please the crowds of local who threw coins into the pot for them.

Unlike the other girls she was an adept swordswoman and archer.  Her horse riding was equal with the men f the group and often she acted as an  out rider instead of riding with the women in the vardo’s.

She had learnt healing and herb lore from her adopted mother and had been a diligent student. 

Today seemed different to other days, the sun had barely lifted over the blue hills in the distance and yet the elders were determined to break camp early that morning. 

“Are you all right Good Mother?”  Cerri asked as she looked into the Vardo.  Leah smiled.  She loved the young woman as she would her own child.  As she and her husband had not been blessed with children and so when her cousin Rosina had asked her to take the baby in she had agreed, employing one of her tribeswomen as the infants wet nurse. 

“I am fine, daughter.  The elders want to make it to the village of Wintiamas before noon.  It is Market Day there, you know that means more money for us and we do have a long journey before us.”  She soothed.  “Your father said you were to ride with the others today.”  Leah smiled.  Cerridwen nodded as she tied her long hair back and mounted her horse before falling in line with the other riders.

The long procession wound its way down the long winding road.  Walkers, riders, Vardo’s all made their way down the  dust road, thankful; that the trees gave them some protection from the midday sun.

Cerridwen looked up in awe at the castle.  “It’s impressive huh?”  Micah grinned at her as she looked up at the magnificent building.

Part of the road led through the forest and the caravan made their way between the magnificent oaks.  As they headed down the last section of the forest to see what looked like the local Lord and his son riding out on two dark colored horses. 

Cerridwen could not help but take a surreptitious look at the pair of nobles.

The older man, the lord, Cerridwen assumed appeared to be tall as he sat in the saddle of the darker horse.  He was dressed, from what Cerridwen could see, in chainmail, leather jacket, pants and a red cloak.  His hair was a dark blonde with grey liberally sprinkled throughout.

The younger man appeared to be slightly taller with blonde hair.  Like the older man he was dressed in chainmail, brown leather pants and a red cloak.

The caravan kept moving.  Cerridwen lowered her eyes and kept riding with her companions’.

Slowly they made their way into the town.