Brynach wanted a warrior’s burial for him in a grand tomb. I told them Hywel did not require comfort but vengeance. On this point we finally agreed. When the punishment for his killer was decided, there was no question of him being buried with the Christians. Their god has not the stomach for the punishment meted out by the Old Religion. The priest backed down quickly enough when he understood what is to be done. What has to be done.

Hywel had neither wife nor children of his own. He saw his prince as his reason for being on this earth. He and Brynach loved each other as warriors, as brothers, and now the prince is bereft. His heart will ache, and there will forever be a space at his table now. When all are assembled at the appointed place, Hywel’s coffin is lowered into the deep wound in the earth that awaits it. The priest stands close and says his words. Many of the women and children weep. Brynach and his soldiers stand steady and quiet but they cannot hide the pain of loss they are suffering. When the Christian rites have been observed I step forward. I am not wearing my ceremonial headdress this day, for the occasion is too somber, too personal. Instead I have dressed in my red woolen cloak, my hood up to cover my hair. I lead Tanwen by the hand, moving slowly so that she can walk the short distance to the grave. She, too, wears a cape of red wool, given her by her father, to match mine, but her hood is down, so that her bright hair gleams in the sunlight, as does the golden torc at her throat. It is fitting that we should act for Hywel together. He loved her, and he died protecting me. She will one day take my place as shaman. There is much she must learn.

The hole has been dug deep. The lid of the coffin remains drawn back so that we might say our farewells. Hywel lies, arms crossed, his sword in his hand, grave goods placed all around him—silver plates, goblets, weapons, a fine robe—he will not want for anything in the afterlife. He did not fear death. No man who still has the Old Religion in his heart has reason to. He knew he would be welcomed, be revered. The sadness for him was that he did not die a warrior’s death in battle. And that he has left his prince’s side. The bitterness we must live with is that he was so cruelly sent from this world by wickedness. And I, I must endure the knowledge that his life was forfeit for mine. Nothing Brynach says can remove that painful truth from me.