Sublime
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‘She’s called Rhiannon,’ says the landlord. ‘My late wife named her that. Welsh, she was. Very fond of all the old stories.’ ‘Ah,’ says Lancelot. He tries not to sigh too loudly. It would have been too much to ask that the horse would be called Beryl, or Snowdrop. He can’t meet a horse without it being the queen of horses. He can’t drink from a str
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