Braose.'
'Good. Then let us arrange your ransom,' replied the count. 'The amount you must pay will depend on your answers to my questions.
'I understand,' Bran said, trying to sound agreeable. 'I will answer as well as I can.'
'Where were you and that priest going when my men found you on the road?'
'We were returning from Lundein,' replied Bran. 'Brother Ffreol had business with the monastery there, and I was hoping to buy some cloth to sell in the markets hereabouts.'
'This business of yours compelled you to ride at night. Why?'
'We had been away a long time,' answered Bran, 'and Brother Ffreol was anxious to get home. He had an important message for his bishop, or so he said,'
'I think you were spies,' de Braose announced.
Bran shook his head. 'No.'
'What about the other one? Was he a merchant, too?'
'Iwan?' said Bran. 'Iwan is a friend. He rode with us to provide protection.
'A task at which he failed miserably,' observed the count. 'He escaped, but we will find him-and when we do, he will be made to pay for his crimes.'
Bran took this to mean he had injured or killed at least one of the marchogi in the skirmish on the road.
'Only a coward would kill a priest,' observed Bran. 'Since you require men to pay for their crimes, why not begin with your own?'
The count leaned forward dangerously. 'If you wish to keep your tongue, you will speak with more respect.' He sat back and smoothed his tunic with his long fingers. 'Now then, you knew my men were attacked by your people on that same road some days ago?'
'I was in Lundein, as I said,' Bran replied. 'I heard nothing of it.'
'No?' wondered the count, holding his head to one side. 'I can tell you the attack was crushed utterly. The lord of this place and his pitifully few warriors were wiped out.'
'Three hundred against thirty,' Bran replied, bitterness sharpening his tone. 'It would not have been difficult.'
'Careful,' chided the count. 'Are you certain you knew nothing of this battle?'
'Not a word,' Bran told him, trying to sound both sincere and disinterested. 'But I know how many men the King of Elfael had at his command,'
'And you say you know nothing of the priest's business?'
'No. He did not tell me-why would he? I am no priest,' Bran remarked. 'Churchmen can be very secretive when it suits them.'
'Could it have something to do with the money the priest was carrying?' inquired the count. He gestured to a nearby table and the four bags of coins lying there. Bran glanced at the table; the thieving Ffreinc had, of course, searched the horses and found the money Bran had hidden amongst the provisions.
'It is possible,' allowed Bran. 'I did not think priests carry so much money otherwise.'
'No,' agreed de Braose, 'they do not.' He frowned, apparently deciding there was nothing more to be learned. 'Very well,' he said at last, 'about the ransom. It will be fifty marks.'
Bran felt bitter laughter rising in his throat. Cardinal Ranulf wanted six hundred; what was fifty more?
'Fifty marks,' he repeated. Determined not to allow the enemy the pleasure of seeing him squirm, Bran shrugged and adopted a thoughtful air. 'A heavy price for one who is neither lord nor landholder.'
De Braose regarded him with an appraising look. 'You think it too high. What value would you place on your life?'
'I could get ten marks,' Bran told him, trying to make himself sound reasonable. 'Maybe twelve.'
'Twenty-five.'
'Fifteen, maybe,' Bran offered reluctantly. 'But it would take time.'
'How much time?'
'Four days,' said Bran, pursing his lips in close calculation. 'Five would be better.'
'You have one,' the Norman lord decided. 'And the ransom will be twenty marks.'
'Twenty, then,' agreed Bran reluctantly. 'But I will need a horse.'
De Braose shook his head slowly. 'You will go afoot.'
'If I am not to have a horse, I will certainly need more time,' said Bran. He would have the money before the morning was out but did not want the Ffreinc to know that.
'Either you can find the ransom or you cannot,' concluded de Braose, making up his mind. 'You have one day- no more. And you must swear on the cross that you will return here with the money.'
'Then I am free to go?' asked Bran, surprised that it should be so easy.
'Swear it,' said de Braose.
Bran looked his enemy in the eye and said, 'I do swear on the cross of Christ that I will return with money enough to purchase my ransom.' He glanced at the two knights standing by the door. 'I can go now?'
De Braose inclined his long head. 'Yes, and I urge you to make haste. Bring the money to me before sunset. If you fail, you will be caught and your life will be forfeit, do you understand me?'
'Of course.' Bran turned on his heel and strode away. It was all he could do to refrain from breaking into a run the moment he left the hall. To maintain the pretence, he calmly crossed the yard under the gaze of the marchogi and strode from the caer. He suspected that his new overlords watched him from the fortress, so he continued his purposeful, unbroken stride until the trees along the river at the valley bottom took him from sight then he ran all the way to Llanelli to tell Bishop Asaph the grievous news about Brother Ffreol.
CHAPTER
II
where is everyone?' shouted Bran, dashing through the gate and into the tidy spare yard of the Llanelli monastery. He had expected the yard to be full to overflowing with familiar faces of cowering, frightened Cymry seeking refuge from the invaders.
'Lord Bran! Thank God you are safe,' replied Brother Eilbeg, the porter, hurrying after him.
Bran turned on him. 'What happened to those I sent here?' he demanded.
'They've been taken to Saint Dyfrig's. Bishop Asaph thought they would be better cared for at the abbey until it is safe to return.'
'Where is the bishop?'
'At prayer, sire,' replied the monk. He looked through the door behind Bran, as if hoping to see someone else, then asked, 'Where is Brother Ffreol?'
Bran made no answer but sped to the chapel, where he found Bishop Asaph on his knees before the altar, hands outstretched. 'My lord,' said Bran abruptly, 'I have news.'
The bishop concluded his prayer and turned to see who it was that interrupted his communion. One quick glance at Bran's bruised face told him there had been more trouble. 'How bad is it?' asked the bishop, grasping the edge of the altar to pull himself to his feet.
'As bad as can be,' Bran replied. 'Brother Ffreol is dead. Iwan escaped, but they are searching for him to kill him.'
The bishop's shoulders dropped, and he sagged against the near wall. He put a hand out to steady himself and paused a long moment, eyes closed, his lips moving in a silent prayer. Bran waited, and when the bishop had composed himself, he quickly explained how they had been caught on the road by marchogi who had killed the good brother without provocation.
'And you?' asked Asaph. 'You fought free?'
Bran shook his head. 'They took me captive and brought me to the caer. I was released to raise ransom for myself.'
The bishop shook his head sadly. He gazed at Bran as if trying to fathom the depths of such outrageous
