Perhaps Rhodri thought this confession would make Gryff sympathetic, but it only made him suspicious. The year of study was a tradition in their family that went back generations. It was no small thing to deny this to a son, and if their father had not allowed Rhodri to live among the falconers, there must be a very good reason for it.

That was why, when Rhodri asked him about the nesting places, he lied.

Gryff said, “Father wants only Aiden to inherit the land, and that means everything of value in it.” Then he gave Rhodri the same lie he gave to any outsider who asked: “No one person in Aderinyth knows them all. Is a secret shared among the falconers of old, and kept from all others. Even the princes were never told.”

A fleeting stab of annoyance crossed Rhodri’s face, like he knew it was not true but could not say so. It passed, and Gryff thought no more of it until some days later when they drank together in a corner of the hall during the holiday feast. He had turned away briefly when he saw Agnes across the hall, her hair decorated with Michaelmas daisies, giving him a knowing wink. He wondered if she would wait for him behind the bakehouse again or if there was anywhere more private she preferred to lift her skirts for him. Then he reached for his cup as he turned back to his friends.

Hal knocked it from his hands. He pretended it was an accident, that he was clumsy with too much wine, but Gryff knew his friend. Hal never drank so much that he was clumsy, and the look he gave Gryff was too sharp and clear-eyed to mistake for anything other than a warning. Rhodri laughed and said he’d find more ale for them, and when he had gone Hal leaned forward to whisper in Gryff’s ear.

“Have a care with your brother. He dropped aught in your ale.”

When Gryff protested it could not be true, Hal reached down to retrieve the cup where it had fallen. There was still a swallow left in it and Will (who of course had observed the exchange and missed nothing – he never did) said that they should feed it to a rat and see if it died or only became drunk.

The rat died. Gryff stared at it and fought down a kind of panic. He let Will explain it to a confused Hal, all about the old Welsh laws and how this particular tradition had been the downfall of so many Welsh families of property. “When every son inherits an equal portion,” said Will, “greed is like to strangle brotherly love. It has torn Wales apart from within, how they fight each other. It has done more damage than any English king could hope to do.”