Waiting for the applause to subside, Mayor Rhuddlan held aloft a piece of paper. “Of course, even though King Edward threatened to have him drawn and quartered, Phrys Anwir remained loyal to the Welsh cause and never surrendered. In fact, he disappeared after the Siege of Caernarfon, still officially an outlaw. But no more! I have here, in writing, an official pardon from the Queen herself.”

The crowd at the Heddwyn Maddox Eisteddfod erupted in cheers at the news, with Rhuddlan beaming all the while.

“That’s right,” he said. “The most famous son of Heddwyn Maddox village is now free.”

“Good!” A booming voice echoed from the back of the crowd.

Shocked onlookers parted in front of the speaker, who rode slowly forward on a courser, clad in the raiment of a 13th-century man-at-arms with a red Welsh dragon emblazoned on his tabard.

“I will admit, it took longer than I thought it might,” the man continued, speaking in thickly accented but understandable English. “But it’s good to be home. And what’s seven hundred-odd years between a man and his village, mm?”

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