From the retinue of Mynyddog they hastened forth; in a shining array they fed together round the wine-vessel. My heart has become full of grief for the feast of Mynyddog, I have lost too many of my true kinsmen.

Three hundred men hastened forth, wearing gold torques, defending the land - and there was slaughter. Though they were slain they slew, and they shall be honou…

He glutted black ravens on the rampart of the stronghold, though he was no Arthur.

The men went to Catraeth, swift was their host, the pale mead was their feast and it was their poison.

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of los…

If they had said that the sun or the moon had gone out of the heavens, it could not have struck me with the idea of a more awful and dreary blank in creation t…

In there. The words hit me hard. In there was my best friend lying on the floor dead. The body. Now I could call it that. Yesterday it was Jack Williams, the g…