Cry of Sorrow Read Online Free Page A

the means to care for the child after her mother died. I ordered her killed.”
    “The supreme cruelty. To make a man betray his people to save the lives of those already dead.”
    “A piece of information that, I trust, you will not share with the Bard? I fear Lord Havgan would be highly displeased.”
    “Havgan,” Sigerric began in a pleading tone.
    “Be quiet, Sigerric,” Havgan said coolly. “I will use who and what I must to get what I need. Don’t be a fool.” Havgan gestured to Sledda. “You have the Bard here?”
    “I do, Lord Havgan.”
    “Then bring him in.”
    Sledda left the room. Havgan said, “Sigerric, I wish that you would leave me be to do the things I must do.”
    Sigerric smiled bitterly. “And that is something I will never do. As long as you demean yourself with unworthy deeds, so I will speak against it.”
    “So you will,” Havgan agreed equably. “And so I will continue.”
    “Never have any poor words of mine changed your course. Why should now be any different?
    “Why, indeed?”
    Sledda returned, followed by a small, lithe man, dressed in a worn tunic and trousers of nondescript brown. The man had sandy hair, pale green eyes, and small, sharp features. His face was tight, his hands clasped into fists, his shoulders tense.
    “You will bow to Lord Havgan, Bard,” Sledda commanded.
    The man hesitated, then bowed slightly.
    “What is your name?” Havgan asked.
    “I am called Jonas, Warleader,” he said softly. “Jonas ap Morgan.”
    “And you are a Bard.”
    “I am. Before the war I was the Bard to Diadwa ur Tryffin, Gwarda of Creuddyn, in Gwynedd. Lady Diadwa was killed in the Third Battle of Tegeingl.”
    “You were in the battles of Tegeingl? Surely, then, you know where Queen Morrigan and her mother, Ygraine, and the rest of her people fled.”
    “Most unfortunately, Lord, I do not. Before the battles began, the Master Bard called me back to meet with him at Neuadd Gorsedd.”
    “And then, I suppose, he took you to their hiding place?”
    “No, my Lord. He sent me to Rheged, to act as another link in the great chain he and the Ardewin were creating throughout Kymru.”
    “Then you know where the Master Bard and the Ardewin have gone. You know the final destination of your messages.”
    “Again, I must say no.”
    “You are lying.”
    “Lying,” the man said flatly. His fists clenched tighter, his knuckles white. “Lying. Don’t you think I would tell you all I knew to free my wife, my baby? I will do anything to have them freed! Anything. If I knew, I would tell you!”
    “Then I fail to see, Sledda, what use this man is to us, if he knows nothing,” Sigerric taunted.
    “Few of the Bards or Dewin know the location of the headquarters of the Master Bard and the Ardewin,” Sledda explained smoothly. “The Bards relay spoken messages, mind to mind. The Dewin relay the ‘pictures’ of what they have seen one to another. Each person knows only one link in that chain.”
    “Then the chain must be pursued! Capture the next Bard that Jonas knows of, and follow!” Cathbad said, his mad eyes gleaming.
    “And that is what we must not do, Archdruid,” Sledda said shortly. “The next Bard may not be so—ah, amenable—to sharing information with us. The Kymri might be alerted. I have a better plan. Explain, Jonas.”
    Jonas took a deep breath, his face pale and set. “No one but me knows that my wife and daughter are prisoners. I will send a message up the chain to Anieron that they were killed, and beg him to reassign me to another post where their memory will not haunt me. He will call me to him, and then I will know where he hides.”
    “Why should he call you to him?” Eadwig asked. “He could very well simply tell you where you must go next, without seeing you.”
    Suddenly, Aergol spoke. “Anieron will call Jonas to him because he will be concerned for the Bard’s state of mind. He will wish to see for himself that Jonas will recover from the