to rule as I see fit. I will in no wise share the governance of this realm with a low brigand.' Hugo leaned on the table with his fists, his anger mounting. 'I may not have enough men to drive your King Raven from his forest perch, but if he has the might to defeat me, then let him try.'
Tuck stared at the abbot, his mind whirling as he tried to decipher this last outburst. 'But you will consider the offer?'
'I think our talk is finished.' The abbot made a dismissive gesture with his hand. 'You may go, but if you ever come here again I will have you arrested to stand trial as a traitor to the crown. You can tell your friends that if I ever catch you or any of them your lives are forfeit.'
Tuck stiffened at the insult. 'I came here in good faith, Abbot, as a Christian priest. Even so, I don't expect you'll see me again.'
'Out!'
'I am going,' Tuck said, stepping towards the door. 'But I urge you to seriously consider the offer of peace- pray, discuss it with your marshal and the sheriff. You have until midday tomorrow to decide, and if you accept-'
'Porter!' shouted the abbot. 'Take this man away!'
Outside once more, Tuck returned to his mount, untied it, and heaved himself up into the saddle. As he lifted the reins he cast a backward look at the abbey and saw a monk flitting along the front of the church towards the guard tower.
He did not linger, but departed quickly lest the abbot betray his word and arrest him. He urged his mount to a trot and left the town, hastening back to the forest with the curious sensation that he had been given a valuable prize but could not remember what it was-something Abbot Hugo had said… but what?
In any event, he was satisfied that, as a priest of the church, he had done his duty. 'Blessed are the peacemakers,' he murmured to himself. 'And the Good Lord help us all.'
CHAPTER 6
Saint Martin's
As long as those outlaws hold the King's Road,'complained Marshal Guy, swirling the wine in his cup, 'nothing enters or leaves the forest without their notice. We lost good men in that ill-advised attack at Winchester and-'
'You need not whip that dead horse any longer, Marshal,'growled Abbot Hugo, slamming down the pewter jar. Wine splashed out and spattered the table linen, leaving a deep crimson stain. 'I am only too aware of the price we are paying to maintain this accursed realm.'
'My point, Abbot, was that without hope of raising any more soldiers, the cantref is lost already. Sooner or later, the rogues will discover how few men we have, and when they do, they will attack and we will not be able to repel them. That, or they will simply wear us down. Either way, they win.'
'Possibly.' Hugo shook the wine from his hand, raised his cup, and drank.
'Their Raven King has made us an offer of peace-take it, I say, and let us be done with this godforsaken realm. I wish to heaven I'd never heard of it.'
'Be that as it may,' Hugo said, staring into his cup, 'King William has given the governance of the realm to me, and I will not suffer that ridiculous King Raven and his scabrous minions to hold sway over it. They will be defeated.'
'Have you heard a single word I've said?'
'I heard, Marshal, but I do not think you understand the depth of my resolve. For I propose we root out King Raven and his brood for once and all.'
'Then just you tell me how do you propose we do that?' Guy de Gysburne glared at the abbot, daring him to put up something that could not be knocked down with a single blow. 'As many times as we have gone against them, we have been forced to retreat. Swords and spears are no use against those infernal longbows because we cannot get close enough to use them. Pitched battle is no good: they will not stand and fight. They hide in the woods where our horses cannot go. They know the land hereabouts far better than we do, so they can sit back and slaughter us at will.'
Abbot Hugo was in no mood to listen to yet another litany of Guy's complaints. They never advanced the cause and always fell back on the tired observation that unless they found a powerful patron to supply men and weapons, and provisions, the realm would fall. The battle in the grove had cost them more than either one of them cared to contemplate-though Guy had not allowed anyone within hearing distance to forget it. Of the thirty- three knights and men-at-arms left to them after the departure of the exiled Baron de Braose, only twenty-one remained. And Elfael, nestled in its valley and surrounded by forest on three sides, was far too vulnerable to the predation of Bran and his outlaw band, who had proven time and again that they could come and go as they pleased.
'If we cannot get to them,' replied Hugo, adopting a more conciliatory air, 'then we will bring the so-called Raven and his flock to us.'
'Easier said than done,' muttered Guy. 'Our Raven is a canny bird. Not easy to trick, not easy to catch.'
'Nor am I an adversary easily defeated.' Hugo raised his cup to his mouth and took a deep draught before continuing. 'Simply put, we will entice them, draw them out into the open where they cannot attack us from behind trees and such. Their bows will be no good to them at close quarters.'
Guy stared at the abbot in amazement and shook his head. 'The forest is their fortress. They will not leave it- not for any enticement you might offer.'
'But I need offer nothing,' the abbot remarked. 'Don't you see?
They have outwitted themselves this time. Under pretence of accepting the peace, we will lure them into the open. Once they have shown themselves, we will slice them to ribbons.'
'Just like that?' scoffed the marshal, shaking his head.
'If you have a better plan, let us hear it,' snapped the abbot.
Growing weary of arguing with Gysburne at every turn, he decided to end the discussion. 'Count Falkes was no match for the Welsh, as we all know. He paid the price for his mistakes and he is gone. I rule here now, and our enemies will find in me a more ruthless and cunning adversary than that de Braose ninny.'
Clearly, they had reached an impasse, and Marshal Guy could think of nothing more to say. So he simply dashed the wine from his cup and took his leave.
'If all goes well, Marshal,' said the abbot as Guy reached the door, 'we will have that viper's nest cleaned out in three days' time.'
How very optimistic,' observed Sheriff de Glanville when the marshal told him what the abbot had said. 'So far, in all our encounters with these brigands, we've always come off the worse-while they get away with neither scratch nor scrape.'
'Putting more men in the field only gives them more targets for their accursed arrows,' Guy pointed out.
'Precisely,' granted the sheriff. He removed the leather hood from his falcon and blew gently on the bird's sleek head. With his free hand he picked up a gobbet of raw meat from a bowl on the table and flipped it to the keen-eyed bird on his glove. 'Still, the abbot has a point-we might fare better if we could lure the outlaws from the wood. Have you any idea what the abbot has planned?'
'The outlaws have sent a message offering a truce of some kind.'
'Have they indeed?'
'They have,' confirmed Gysburne, 'and the abbot thinks to use that to draw them out. He didn't say how it would be done.'
The sheriff lifted a finger and gently stroked the falcon's head. 'Well, I suppose there is no point in trying to guess what goes on in our devious abbot's mind. I have no doubt he'll tell us as soon as he is ready.'
They did not have long to wait. At sundown, just after compline, the abbot summoned his two commanders to his private chambers, where he put forth his plan to rid the realm of King Raven and his flock.
'When the abbey bell goes,' Abbot Hugo explained for the third time. 'I want everyone in place. We don't know-'
