'They might, but could we?' wondered Scarlet.

'Have you forgotten Neufmarche tried to kill me last time I went to him for help?' said Bran. 'If it is all the same to you, I'd rather not give him another chance.'

Merian frowned. 'That was unfortunate.'

'Unfortunate!' cried Bran. 'Woman, the man is a two-faced Judas. He betrayed me outright. Indeed, he betrayed us both. Your own life was none too secure, if you'll recall.'

'What you say is true,' she conceded. 'I'll not argue. Still, he is a Ffreinc nobleman and if-together with my father, of course-we could convince him that it was in his own best interest to help us, I know he'd agree.'

'Oh, he'd agree,' Bran retorted, 'agree to help empty Elfael of his rivals so he could have it all to himself. We'd just be exchanging one tyrant for an even bigger, more powerful tyrant.' Bran gave a sharp chop of his hand, dismissing the suggestion. 'No. If the Ffreinc require assurance that we will hold to our word, we will appeal to Abbot Daffyd to swear for us and they will have to accept that.' He sat back down. 'Now then, what do we want Tuck to tell them?'

They fell to discussing the substance of the message and soon hammered out a simple, straightforward appeal to meet and discuss the proposed offer of peace. By the time Siarles came to say that the horse was ready, the Ffreinc scribe, Odo, had schooled and corrected Tuck's creaky Latin so there would be no mistake. 'I have some of the Norman tongue too,' Tuck pointed out in French. 'Picked up a fair bit in my years in Hereford.'

'Not enough, God knows,' snipped Odo.

'I understand far more than I can speak,' said Tuck.

'Even so,' allowed the scribe, 'it is not what you understand that will lead you to difficulty, but what you are likely to say.'

'Perhaps you should come with me, then,' suggested Tuck. 'To keep a poor friar from stumbling over the rocky places.'

The colour drained from the already pasty face of the young cleric.

'I thought not,' replied Tuck. ''Tis better I go alone.'

'Ah!' said Odo. 'I will write it down for you so the abbot can read it for himself if you go astray.' He bustled off to find his writing utensils and a scrap of something to carry the ink.

'All is well?' asked Bran, seeing the scribe depart on the run.

'Right as rain in merry May,' replied Tuck. 'Odo is going to write it for me so if all else fails I have something to push under the abbot's nose.'

'Scarlet is right-this is dangerous. Hugo could seize you and have you hung, or worse. You don't have to go. We can find another way to get a message through.'

'The Lord is my shield and defender,' replied Tuck. 'Of whom shall I be afraid?'

'Well then,' Bran concluded, 'God with you, Tuck. Siarles and I will see you to the edge of the forest at least.'

A short while later, the would-be peacemakers paused at the place where the King's Road crossed the ford and started down into the valley. Bran and Siarles were each armed with a bow and bag of arrows, and Tuck carried a new-made quarterstaff. In the distance they could see Caer Cadarn on its hump of rock, guarding the Vale of Elfael. 'I do not expect the abbot will have let the fortress stand abandoned for long,' Bran surmised. 'He would have moved men into it as soon as Count Falkes had gone.'

'If any should see me, they will only see a poor fat friar on a skinny horse making for town-nothing to alarm anyone.'

'And if they should take exception and stop you?' asked Siarles.

'I will tell them I bring a word of greeting and hope to Abbot Hugo,' replied Tuck. 'And that is God's own truth.'

'Then off with you,' said Bran, 'and hurry back. We'll wait for you here.'

It took Tuck longer to reach the town than he had reckoned, and the sun was already beginning its descent as he entered the market square-all but empty, with only a few folk about and no soldiers that he could see. Always before there had been soldiers. Indeed, the town had a tired, deserted air about it. He tied his mount to an iron ring set in a wall, drew a deep breath, hitched up his robe, and strode boldly across the square to stand before the whitewashed walls of the abbey. He pounded on the timber door with the flat of his hand and waited. A few moments later, the door opened, and the white-haired old porter peered out.

'Nous avons un message pour l'abbe,' Tuck intoned politely. 'Prier, l'amene tout de suite.'

Brother porter ducked his head respectfully and hurried away.

'Thank you, Lord,' said Tuck, breathing a sigh of relief to have passed the first test.

Tuck waited, growing more and more uneasy with each passing moment. Finally, the door in the abbey gate opened once more and the porter beckoned him to come inside, where he was led across the yard to the abbot's lodge. A few of the monks stopped to stare as he passed-perhaps, thought Tuck, recognizing him from their previous encounter in King William's yard not too many days ago.

Once inside, he was conducted through a dark corridor and brought to stand before a panelled door. The porter knocked and received the summons to enter. He pushed open the door and indicated that Tuck should go in.

The abbot was standing over a table on which was spread a simple supper. He was spearing a piece of cheese with a long fork as Tuck entered. Glancing up, Hugo stopped, his mouth agape. Then, collecting himself, he said in a low voice, 'Vous devez etre fou. Venir ici comme ceci. Que voulez-vous?'

Tuck understood this to mean that the abbot thought he must be insane to come there, and demanded to know what he wanted.

At this, Tuck, speaking in measured tones and with many haltings as he searched for the words, began his prepared speech. He appealed to Abbot Hugo as a brother in their common calling as priests of the church, and thanked the abbot for allowing him to speak. He then said that he had come with an offer of peace from the forest-dwellers. When words began to fail, he took out the little scrap of parchment Odo had prepared for him, listing the central stipulations of the plan. The abbot's face grew red as he listened, but he held his tongue. Tuck concluded, saying, 'You have until midday tomorrow to give your answer. If you accept Bran's offer, you will ring the abbey bell nine times-three peals of three. Then, come to the edge of the forest, where you will be told what to do next. Do you understand?'

To which the abbot replied, 'I do not know which offends me the more-your uncouth speech or the crudeness of your appearance.' He waved a hand in front of his nose. 'You smell worse than a stable hound.'

Tuck bore the insult with a smile. He'd not expected an easy ride through enemy territory. 'But you understand what I am saying?'

'Oh, I understand,' confirmed Hugo. 'However, I fail to see why I should dignify this ridiculous idea of sharing the governance of Elfael with a vile outlaw and rebel.'

'Bran ap Brychan is neither outlaw nor rebel,' Tuck replied evenly, hoping he had got the words right. 'In truth, his family has ruled this realm for a hundred years or more. If you agree, you would be sharing the dominion of the cantref with the rightful heir to the throne of Elfael, who-no fault of his own-has been deprived of his kingship.'

'And if I do not agree?'

'Then there will be a bloody price to pay.'

'Is that supposed to frighten me?' asked Hugo, arching an eyebrow. 'If so, forgive me if I refuse to take this threat of retribution seriously. It seems to me that if your Lord Bran could take this town by force, he would have done so long ere now, no?'

'He is giving you one last chance,' said Tuck.

'One last chance.'

'Yes, Abbot-this is the last and best chance you will receive.'

'So, I am supposed to simply abandon the town and fortress to the outlaws and imprison myself in the abbey here-is that it?'

'You would not be held captive,' said Tuck, struggling to make himself understood. 'Bran would rule the realm as a liegeman of the king, and you would support him in this and… ah, confine… your activities to the work of the abbey.'

'Non!' roared the abbot, throwing down the long-handled fork. 'C'est impossible! The king has given me Elfael

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