saying, 'May God bless you richly, baron, for troubling yourself on our behalf. May God bless you well and richly.'
)3ran spent the day getting to know the people of Cel Craidd, the hidden heart of the greenwood. A few were folk of Elfael, but many were from other cantrefs-chiefly Morgannwg and Gwent, which had also fallen under Norman sway. All, for one reason or another, had been forced to abandon their homes and seek the refuge of the wood. He talked to them and listened to their stories of loss and woe, and his heart went out to them.
That night he sat beside the hearth in Iwan's hut, and they talked of the Ffreinc and what could be done to reclaim their homeland. 'We must raise a warband,' Iwan declared, brash in his enthusiasm. 'That is the first thing. Drive the devils out. Drive them so far and so hard they dare not come back again.'
The three men faced one another across the small fire burning in the centre of the hut's single room. 'We could get swords and armour,' Siarles suggested. 'And horses, to be sure. Good ones-trained to battle.' The young man had been chief huntsman to the king of Gwent, but when the Ffreinc deposed his lord and took all hunting rights to themselves, Siarles had fled to the forest rather than serve a Ffreinc lord. He had assumed the position of Iwan's second. 'De Braose has hundreds of horses. We'll raise a thousand,' he said, exuberance getting the better of him. He considered this for a moment and then amended it, saying, 'Not every warrior will need a horse, mind. To be sure, we must have footmen as well.'
The mere thought of trying to find so many men and horses was laughable to Bran. Even if men in such numbers could somehow be found, arming and equipping a warband of that size could well take a year or more- and they must be housed and fed in the meantime. It was absurd, and Bran pitied his friends for their hopeless, pathetic dream; it might make the British heart beat faster, but it was doomed to failure. The Ffreinc were bred for battle; they were better armed, better trained, better horsed. Engaging them in open battle was certain disaster; every British death strengthened their hold on the land that much more and increased misery and oppression for everyone. To think otherwise was folly.
Listening to Iwan and Siarles, Bran grew more certain than ever that his future lay in the north amongst his mother's kinsmen. Elfael was lost-it had been so from the moment his father was cut down in the road-and there was nothing he could do to change that. Better to accept the grim reality and live than to die chasing a glorious delusion.
He looked sadly at the two men across from him, their faces eager in the firelight. They burned with zeal to drive the enemy from the valley and redeem their homeland. Why stop there? Bran thought. They might as well hope to reclaim Cymru, England, and Scotland, too for all the good it would do them. Unable to endure the futile hope of those keen expressions, Bran rose suddenly and left the hut.
He stepped out into the moonlight and stood for a moment, feeling the cool night air wash over him. Gradually, he became aware that he was not alone. Angharad was sitting on a stump beside the door. 'They have no one else,' she said. 'And nowhere else to go.'
'What they want-,' Bran began, then halted. Did anyone have even the slightest notion of the effort in time and money that it would take to raise a sufficiently large army to do what Iwan suggested? 'It is impossible,' he declared after a moment. 'They are deluded,'
'Then you must tell them. Tell them now. Explain why they are wrong to want what they want. Then you can leave knowing that, as their king, you did all you could.'
Her words rankled. 'What do you expect of me, Angharad?' He spoke softly so those inside would not overhear. 'What they propose is madness-as you and I know.'
'Perhaps,' she conceded. 'But they have nothing else. They have no kinsmen in the north waiting to take them in. Elfael is all they have. It is all they know. If their hope is mistaken, you must tell them.'
'I will,' said Bran, drawing himself up, 'and let that be the end.' He went back into the hut, taking his place at the fire once more.
'We could go to Lord Rhys in the south,' Iwan was saying. 'He has returned from Ireland with a large warband. If we convinced him to help us, he might loan us the troops we need.'
'No,' Bran said quietly. 'There is no plunder to be had, and we have nothing to offer them. King Rhys ap Tewdwr will not get dragged into a war for nothing, and he has enough worries of his own.'
'What do you suggest?' asked Iwan. 'Is there someone else?'
Bran looked at his friend, the light still burning in his eyes; he could not bring himself to snuff out that fragile flame. Angharad was right: the people had no one to lead them and nowhere else to go. For Iwan, and for them all, it was Elfael or nothing.
Bran hesitated, wrestling with the decision. God have mercy, he thought, I cannot abandon them. In that instant, a new path opened before him, and Bran saw the way ahead. 'We don't have to fight the Ffreinc,' he declared abruptly.
'No?' wondered Iwan. 'I think they won't surrender for askinga pleasant thought even so.'
'Have you forgotten, Iwan? We went to Lundein and spoke to the king's justiciar,' Bran said. 'Do you remember what he said?'
'Aye,' conceded the big man, 'I remember. What help is that to us now?'
'It is our very salvation!' Iwan and Siarles exchanged puzzled glances across the fire. Clearly, they did not see, so Bran explained, 'The cardinal said he would annul Baron de Braose's grant for six hundred marks. So we will simply buy Elfael from the king.'
'Six hundred marks!' muttered Siarles in dull amazement. 'Have you ever seen that much?'
'Never,' allowed Bran. 'In truth, I don't know if there is that much silver to be had beyond the March. But the terms were laid down by William's own man. The cardinal said we could have Elfael for six hundred marks.'
'Aye,' mused Iwan, rubbing his chin doubtfully, 'that is what he said-and it is just as impossible now as it was then.'
'A high price, yes, but not impossible. Anyway, it is far less than what would be needed to raise and feed an army of a thousand mennot to mention weapons and armour. For that, we'd need ten times more than the cardinal is asking.'
The two others fell silent gazing at him, calculating the enormity of the sums involved. Bran let his words work for a moment and then added, 'That aside, I agree about the horses.'
'You do?' wondered Siarles, much impressed.
'Yes, but not a thousand. Three or four will suffice.'
'What can we do with three horses?' scoffed the young forester.
'We can begin raising the six hundred marks to redeem our homeland.'
PART FOUR
CHAPTER
30
Ten wagons laden with sacks of barley and rye, bags of dried beans and peas, and whole sides of beef and smoked pork trundled along the rising trackway through the forest. The supply van of Baron Neufmarche had spent all morning toiling up the winding incline of the ridge, and the crest was now in sight. Along with the wagons, the baron had sent an armed escort: five men-at-arms under the command of a knight, all of them in mail hauberks and armed with swords and lances, their shields and steel helmets slung behind their saddles. Their presence dared Count Falkes, or anyone else, to divert the consignment of supplies intended for the starving folk of Elfael.
