high holy days, when a selected few were admitted to the danksome keep with carefully inspected parcels of food, clothing, candles, and other necessaries for their captive king.
The earl's fortress at Caer Cestre was a squat square lump of ruddy stone with thick walls and towers at each corner and over the gate, and the whole surrounded by a swampy, stinking ditch. It had been constructed on the remains of a stout Saxon stronghold which was itself built on foundations the Romans had erected on the banks of the River Dee. The town was also walled, and those walls made of stone the Roman masons cut from the red cliffs along the river. The caer, it was said, could not be conquered by force.
These and other things Tuck learned and reported it all to Bran.
'He likes his whoring and hunting, our Hugh,' he reported. They were sitting in the courtyard of Llewelyn's house, sharing a jug of cool brown ale. A golden afternoon sun was slanting down, warming the little yard agreeably, and the air was soft and drowsy with the buzz of bees from the hives on the other side of the wall. 'They say he likes his mistresses better than his money box, his falcons better than his mistresses, and his hounds better than his falcons.'
'Thinks himself a mighty hunter, does he?' mused Bran with his nose in the jar. He took a sip and passed it to Tuck.
'That he does,' the friar affirmed. 'He spends more on his dogs and birds than he does on himself-and he's never been known to spare a penny there, either.'
'Does he owe anyone money?' wondered Bran.
'That I cannot say,' Tuck told him. 'But it seems he spends it as fast as he gets it. Musicians, jugglers, horses, hounds, clothes from Spain and Italy, wine from France-he demands and gets the best of whatever he wants. The way people talk, a fella'd think Fat Hugh was one enormous appetite got up in satin trousers.'
Bran chuckled. He took back the jar and raised it. 'A man who is slave to his appetites,' he said, taking another drink, 'has a brute for a master.'
'Aye, truly. That he has,' the friar agreed cheerfully. 'Here now! Save a bit o' that for me!'
Bran passed the jar to the friar, who upended it and drained it in a gulp, froth pouring down his chin, which he wiped on a ready sleeve.
When Tuck handed the empty jar back, Bran peered inside and declared, somewhat cryptically, 'It is the master we shall woo, not the slave.'
What he meant by this, Tuck was not to discover for several days. But Bran set himself to preparing his plan and acquiring the goods he needed, and also pressed his two young cousins, Brocmael and Ifor, into his service. He spent an entire day instructing the pair in how to comport themselves as members of his company. Of course, Tuck was given a prime part in the grand scheme as well, so the bowlegged little friar was arrayed accordingly in some of Bishop Hywel Hen's best Holy Day vestments borrowed for the purpose.
At last, Bran declared himself satisfied with all his preparations. The company gathered in Llewelyn's hall to eat and drink and partake of their host's hospitality before the fire-bright hearth. Llewelyn's wife and her maids tended table, and two men from the tribe regaled the visitors and their host with song, playing music on the harp and pipes while Llewelyn's daughters danced with each other and anyone else they could coax from their places at the board. Some of the noblemen had brought their families, too, swelling the ranks of the gathering and making the company's last night a glad and festive time.
The next morning, after breaking fast on a little bread soaked in milk, Bran repeated his instructions to Llewelyn, Trahaern, and Cynwrig. Then, mounting their horses, the four set off for the docks in search of a boat heading north. Caer Cestre sat happily on the Afon Dyfrdwy, which Tuck knew as the River Dee. All told, Earl Hugh's castle was no great distance-it seemed to Tuck that they could have reached it easily in three easy days of riding-but Bran did not wish to slope unnoticed into town like a fox slinking into the dove cote. He would have it no other way but that they would arrive by ship and make as big an occasion of their landing as could be. When Bran came to Caer Cestre, he wanted everyone from the stable-hand to the seneschal to know it.
CHAPTER 13
Lord love us,' said Tuck, a little breathless from his ride to the caer, 'It's an Iberian trading vessel on its way to Caer Cestre. The ship's master has agreed to take us on board, but they are leaving on the tide flow.'
'Tuck, my friend, I do believe things are going our way at last,' declared Bran happily. 'Fetch young Ifor and Brocmael. I'll give Llewelyn our regards and meet you at the dock. Just you get yourself on board and make sure they don't leave without us.'
The travelling party arrived wharfside just as the tide was beginning to turn and got themselves to the ship with little time to spare. As the last horse was brought aboard and secured under the keen gaze of the ship's master-a short, swarthy man with a face burned by wind and sun until it was creased and brown as Spanish leather-Captain Armando gave the order to up anchor and push away from the dock. A good-natured fellow, Armando contented himself with the money Bran paid him for their passage, asking no questions and treating his passengers like the nobility they purported to be. The ship itself was broad abeam and shallow drafted, built for coasting and river travel. It carried a cargo of olive oil and wine in an assortment of barrels and casks; bags of dried beans and black pepper, rolls of copper and tin, and jars of coloured glass. And for the noblemen of England and France: swords, daggers, and helmets of good Spanish steel; and also rich garments of the finest cloth, including silks and satins from the Andalus, and wool from the famous Spanish merinos. The four travellers ate well on board, and their quarters, though cramped-'a body cannot turn around for tripping over his own feet,' complained Tuck-were nevertheless clean enough. At all events it was but a short voyage and easily endured. Mostly, the passengers just leaned on the rail and watched shoreline and riverbank slide slowly by, now and again so close they could almost snatch leaves from the passing branches.
On the third day, having skirted the north coast of Wales and then proceeded inland by way of the River Dee, the ship and its passengers and cargo reached the wharf at Caer Cestre. After changing their clothes for the finery bought at some expense in Bangor, the four prepared to disembark.
All during the voyage, Bran had laboured over the tale they were to tell, and all knew well what was expected of them. 'Not a cleric this time,' Bran had decided on the morning of the second day out. He had been observing the ship's master and was in thrall of a new and, he considered, better idea.
'God love you, man,' sighed Tuck. 'Changing horses in the middle of the stream-is this a good idea, I ask myself?'
'From what you say, Friar,' replied Bran, 'Wolf Hugh is no respecter of the church. Good Father Dominic may not receive the welcome he so rightly deserves.'
'Who would fare better?' wondered Tuck.
'Count Rexindo!' announced Bran, taking the name of a Spanish nobleman mentioned by the ship's master.
Tuck moaned. 'All very well for you, my lord. You can change like water as mood and whim and fits of fancy take you. God knows you enjoy it.'
'I confess I do,' agreed Bran, his twisted smile widening even more.
'I, on the other hand, am a very big fish out of water. For all, I am a poor, humble mendicant whom God has seen fit to bless with a stooped back, a face that frightens young 'uns, and knees that have never had fellowship one with the other. I am not used to such high-flown japes, and it makes me that uneasy-strutting about in someone else's robes, making airs like a blue-feathered popinjay.'
'No one would think you a popinjay,' countered Bran. 'You worry too much, Tuck.'
'And you not enough, Rhi Bran.'
'All will be well. You'll see.'
Now, as they waited for the horses to be taken off, Bran gathered his crew close. 'Look at you-if a fella knew no better,' he said, 'he'd think you had just sailed in from Spain. Is everyone ready?' Receiving the nodded affirmation from each in turn, he declared, 'Good. Let the chase begin.'
'And may God have mercy on us all,' Tuck added and, bidding their captain and crew farewell, turned and led the landing party down the gangplank. Bran came on a step or two behind, and the two young Welshmen, doing their best to look sombre and unimpressed with their surroundings, came along behind, leading the horses.
