Scarlet

Count De Braose's men came out to meet us on the road, and I feared he might make trouble. He and Antoin exchanged a brief word and he rode back up to the fortress; we continued on to the town, which we could see in the near distance.

The wind fell away as we rounded the foot of the fortress mount. A silvery pall of smoke hung over the town. Folk were expecting a cold night and had already built their fires high. I could well imagine the warmth of those flames burning brightly on the hearth and longed to stretch my cold bones beneath a tight roof. The soldiers, seeing we were within sight of the town and there were no bandits lurking on the hilltops, asked to be relieved of duty. The bailiff turned to me and said, 'The town is just there. You are safe now.'

I thanked him for his good care and said, 'We will make camp behind the church and offer trade tomorrow. Pray, do not trouble yourself any longer on our account.'

'Then I will bid you good night,' said Antoin. He made no move to leave until I dipped my fingers into the leather purse at my belt and drew out some silver. I dropped the coins into his palm and his fist closed over them. Without a word, he signalled to the others; his men put spurs to their mounts and they all galloped for home.

I wheeled my mount and hurried back to the second wagon. 'They're away home,' I told Iwan in the first wagon as I passed him. 'Keep moving.' Reining in beside Bran, I said, 'They've gone on ahead to town.

I thanked them and explained that we'd make camp behind the church.

I don't think they suspect anything.'

'Good,' said Bran. 'We should have some time to work.' Rising in his seat, he turned and looked back the way we'd come. I thought he was looking at the fortress, but he said, 'Now where did those other soldiers get to?'

'Other soldiers?' I asked. 'They all returned to Saint Martin's.'

'All but three,' said Bran. 'There were five behind us, and only two rode on.'

Now I looked back along the trail to see if I might catch sight of the missing three. I saw nothing but a dull grey mist rising with the oncoming night. 'I don't see anyone.'

'It would be good to know what happened to them.'

'Could they have stopped at the caer?' I wondered.

Bran shrugged. 'More likely stopped to pee.' He turned around again, and said, 'Lead on, Will. Let's get to the church.'

It was well and truly dark by the time we reached the little town square. No one was about. The mud underfoot had hardened with the cold and crunched under the heavy wagon wheels. A single torch burned outside the guardhouse, and it fluttered in the rising wind. Of our escort of soldiers, there was no sign. No doubt, they had already stabled their horses and gone in to their supper. The thought of a hot meal brought the water to my mouth and made my stomach gurgle.

As we passed the stone keep of the guardhouse, a burst of laughter escaped into the square. It was the sound of soldiers at their drink-a fella has only to hear that once to know it whenever he hears it again. Crossing the square, we passed the church and made our way to the little grove behind. We put the wagons in the grove, unhitched the oxen, and led them to the wall of the church, where they might get some shelter from the wind. We tethered them so they might graze, and left them. 'Gather round,' said Bran, and we formed a tight circle around him as he explained how we were to proceed. 'But before we go any further, we must get some horses,' he concluded.

'Leave that to me,' said Iwan. 'Siarles and I will get them.'

Bran nodded. 'Then Will-you and I will fetch the sheriff. Tomas,' he said, turning to the young Welshman, 'you wait here and ready our weapons. Pray, all of you, that we don't need them.'

We all crept to the corner of the church and looked across to the stables. 'God with you,' said Bran.

'And you,' said Iwan; then he and Siarles moved out into the square. They walked quickly, but without seeming to hurry.

A half-moon sailed high overhead, shining down through rents in the low clouds. They reached the stables and let themselves in. Bran turned to me, his smile dark and sinister. 'Ready, Will?'

I nodded, and told him what to expect inside the sheriff 's house. 'Maybe I should lead the way.'

We hurried along the wall of the church and then passed in front of the entrance. I thought I could hear the monks praying inside as we moved off towards the sheriff 's house. We paused at the door, and as I put my hand to the latch, Bran eased the sword from where it had been hidden beneath his cloak. 'Sick or not, I do expect de Glanville to come along quietly,' he said. 'But I would prefer not to kill him.'

'It may come to that,' I said. Pushing open the door, we began to climb the stairs to the upper floor as quietly as we could. Even so, de Glanville heard us. 'Cela vous, Antoin?' he called out in Ffreinc, his words slurred in his mouth.

I hesitated and glanced at Bran. 'Answer him,' he whispered.

'Antoin?' the sheriff called again.

'Oui, c'est,' I replied, speaking low, trying to make my voice sound as much like the bailiff 's as I could-easier to do, I discovered, in Ffreinc than Saxon.

'Venir,' he said, 'le vin de boisson avec moi.'

'Un moment,' I called. To Bran, I whispered, 'I think he wants us to come drink with him.'

'Right friendly of him,' whispered Bran. 'Let us not keep him waiting.'

We started up the stairs; I let my feet fall heavily on the wooden treads to cover the sound of Bran's lighter steps behind me.

We entered together, pausing in the doorway to take in the room, which was deep in shadow; the only light came from the fire in the hearth, which had burned low. The sheriff was still sitting wrapped in his deerskin robe before the hearth; the remains of a meal lay scattered over the nearby table.

'Remettre votre manteau, Antoin,' said de Glanville, 'et dessiner une chaise pres du feu.'

'Take him now!' whispered Bran in my ear. I felt his hand on my back urging me forward as he sprang past me into the room.

De Glanville sensed the sudden surge towards him, but made no move to prevent us or call out. He simply turned his head as we rushed to his chair, Bran on one side and myself on the other. He did not seem especially surprised to see us, but when he languidly raised his hand as if to fend us off with backward flick of his wrist, I saw that he understood something of the danger descending upon him.

'Drunk as a bishop,' I said. 'He's probably been sucking the bottle all day.'

A lazy smile spread across the sheriff 's narrow rat face. 'Vous n'etes pas Antoin,' he said, the wine rank on his breath. 'Ou est Antoin?'

'Look at him,' I said, shaking my head with disgust. 'Doesn't even know who we are.'

'Good,' replied Bran. 'It makes our chore that much easier.' Taking de Glanville's arm, he pulled the sheriff to his feet, where he stood swaying like a willow wand in a gale.

'He can't walk,' I said. 'We'll have to carry him.'

'Take his feet.' Bran allowed the sheriff to topple gently backwards and caught him under the arms. Stooping, I grabbed his ankles, and together we slung him between us and started hauling him down the stairs and out the door. De Glanville, unresisting, allowed himself to be rough handled all the way to the bottom. He revived somewhat as we stepped outside and the cold air hit him. He moaned and rolled his head from side to side.

We started out across the square and, as we passed in front of the church, the door opened and out came a gaggle of monks carrying torches. Prayers finished, I suppose they were returning to the abbey and were brought up short by the sight of two men makin' off with a third.

'Tell them he's drunk and we're taking him home,' Bran said. 'Quick, Will, tell them!'

I did as he commanded, and that might have succeeded-as indeed we thought for a fleeting moment that it had-but for the knights that appeared out of the night. We heard the sound of hooves and turned to see the three missing soldiers pounding into the square.

There we were, Bran and Will Scarlet with Sheriff de Glanville slung between us like a bag of wet corn-thieves caught with the plunder in hand.

'Arret! Vous, arretez la-bas! ' shouted the foremost knight.

'He says we are to halt,' I told Bran.

'I got that. Keep going,' urged Bran. 'We'll lose them when we get to the horses.'

'Ils ont tue le sherif!' shouted another.

I might have misunderstood, but that brought me up short. 'They've recognised the sheriff,' I gasped. 'They