Death too old to be remembered hung in the air. Traitors and innocents alike had found their doom there.
But this was fresh blood.
Ravens cared not for the head of an Irishman buried in the hill on which this fortress stood. Nor of England’s whispers about an uncle who locked his nephews behind its stone walls.
Two princes had disappeared. Was it a plot with malicious eyes and cruel hearts?
A moment of selfishness? Or an accident? They were only boys.
Ravens gathered on the battlements waiting for their dinner.