Owain expected their arrival to cause a stir. When travelling in Trystan’s company, he’d grown accustomed to open arms and smiles of welcome — men and woman stopping their work, and children running rings around them. Granted the weather was inclement but he expected something.
Skeinhold was even smaller than Owain had first thought. The settlement was nothing more than a series of scattered cottages and small holdings surrounding the castle. There was no town square, no market, and nothing resembling an inn. No doubt the castle was the centre of community life. Owain suspected that Skeinhold was home to a clan of related families, nestled around the protective arm of their chieftain’s castle.
“It’s very quiet, Master,” he said in a hushed tone, giving voice to his trepidation.