Seeming initially much slighter than it truly is, Flint tells a story as full of twists as those carvings you see on old crosses. Listen. Settle down and listen to the tale of 300 men marched from the Fens to Flint 300 fossatores to dig the ditches and foundations of another in the chain of fortresses built by Edward Longshanks to subdue the Welsh and crush the great Llywelyn. Among their number, nine-year-old Will and his older brother Ned, a hunched heron who cannot speak but who has the gift of healing and of music, nurtured in him by the Cistercian monks and Ieuan ap y Gof, the Welsh crwth-player. Redferns writing is delicate and lilting, the natural voice of a storyteller whose narrative encompasses all: actions fair and foul, historical events, human relationships, the natural world and our constant search for meaning and purpose. Like spiders webs, thin as the shreds of the Virgins shroud, our lives are woven from strands. Its not easy, choosing, and sometimes we have no choice. Who is to blame for the death of the innocent? There is something both fierce and gentle about this book, a haunting quality that is difficult to define. Perhaps it lies in the fine evocations of landscape. Or in the characters, whose complexities are so sympathetically and authentically portrayed. Or in the tragic events of war, in which ordinary people are entangled and sacrificed as mere pawns in a game. Or perhaps there is no need to reason why. Perhaps one can simply settle down and listen to the song. Enjoy. Suzy Ceulan Hughes It is possible to use this review for promotional purposes, but the following acknowledgment should be included: A review from www.gwales.com, with the permission of the Welsh Books Council. Gellir defnyddio'r adolygiad hwn at bwrpas hybu, ond gofynnir i chi gynnwys y gydnabyddiaeth ganlynol: Adolygiad oddi ar www.gwales.com, trwy ganiatd Cyngor Llyfrau Cymru. -- Welsh Books Council