Henry Treece 
Castles and Kings 

It was the early part of the year, and the stormy sea birds rode the blustering air that swept across the sea from Ireland.

Two people, a man and a girl, walked the cliff-top above the green sea. Behind them, feeding on the wiry tussocks of grass, were small herds of thin sheep; before them, far down, lay a long causeway of ramparted stone, leading across to a castle that stood upon a mound, a squat fortress, much after the old Roman manner. The two people could see a group of young men in the castle yard pulling and pushing each other about in rough horse-play, shouting and laughing excitedly as they exercised.

“Faugh!” said the man, in contempt. “Look at them! They call themselves Romans, but look at them!”

The girl, whose bright golden hair was set high on her head with silver pins, in the Roman fashion, turned and smiled roguishly, her blue eyes twinkling. When she touched the man on the shoulder, her bronze armbands jingled.