Bran considered this only as long as it took to purse his lips and shake his head. 'God knows that man is no friend of mine. Even if Cadwgan did not hate me when this began, I will not have risen any higher in his esteem by holding his daughter captive.'
'At the first, maybe,' granted Tuck. 'But she stayed on of her own free will. When given the choice, she stayed.'
'Even if he was inclined to help,' countered Bran, 'he is a vassal of Baron Neufmarche. As it runs against his interests, the baron would never allow it. No,' said Bran, shaking his head again, this time with resignation, 'we will get no help from Lord Cadwgan.'
They skirted Saint Martin's, the abbot's town, and entered the sheltering forest just as the sky of lowering clouds sent rain streaming down the wind. It would be a wet night in the greenwood, but the rain did little to dampen the welcome the travellers received at their homecoming. The Grellon gathered to greet them, and Bran roused himself from his grim melancholy to say that he was glad to be home once more. But as he scanned the faces gathered around, the one looked-for face did not appear.
'Where's Merian?' Bran asked.
An uneasy hush drew across the forest dwellers, and Iwan stepped forward. 'Welcome, my lord,' he said, his voice booming in the quiet. 'It is good to have you back safely. I trust your journey was successful.'
'Your trust is misplaced,' snapped Bran. 'We failed.' Still searching among the Grellon, he said, 'Merian… where is she, Iwan?'
The big warrior paused, looking thoughtful. 'Merian is not here,' he said at last. 'She left and went back to Eiwas.'
Before Bran could ask more, the champion gestured to someone in the crowd of onlookers, and Noin stepped forward. 'Tell him what happened,' Iwan instructed.
Noinina made a small bow of greeting to her king and said, 'It is true, my lord. Merian went home.' She folded her hands into the apron at her waist. 'It was in her mind to go and ask her father to send men to aid us in the fight against the Ffreinc.'
'I see,' Bran replied coldly. 'When did she leave?'
'Two days after you departed for the north.'
'Who went with her?'
'My lord,' said Noin, a note of anxiety rising in her voice, 'she went alone.'
'Alone!' Turning on Iwan, he demanded, 'You let her go alone?' When the big man made no reply, Bran glanced around at the others. 'Did no one think to go with her?'
'We did not know she was going,' Iwan explained. 'I would have prevented her, of course. But she told no one of her intentions and left before anyone knew she was gone.'
'Someone knew, by the rood,' Bran observed, indicating the worried Noin before him.
'Forgive me, my lord, but she made me promise not to say anything until after she had gone,' Noin said, looking down at her feet. 'I did try to persuade her otherwise, but she would not hear it.'
'I was halfway down the trail for going after her,' said Will Scarlet, pushing forward to stand beside his wife. 'Would'a gone, too, but by the time we found out, it was too late. Merian was already home, and if anything was going to happen to her…' He paused. 'Well, I reckoned it already did.'
Bran took this in, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. 'I leave you in charge, Iwan,' he snarled. 'And this is how my trust is repaid? I am-'
'Peace!' said Angharad, speaking from a few steps behind him. Pushing through the gathered throng of welcomers, the Wise Banfaith planted herself in front of him. 'This is not seemly, my lord. Your people have given you good greeting and the same would receive from their king.' She fixed him with a commanding stare until Bran remembered himself and, in a somewhat stilted fashion, thanked his champion and others for keeping Cel Craidd in his absence.
Tuck, drawing near, gave Bran a nudge with his elbow and indicated Alan a'Dale standing a short distance apart from the group, ignored and unremarked. So Bran introduced the Grellon to Alan a'Dale and instructed his flock to make the newcomer feel at home among them. Having satisfied courtesy, Bran retreated to his hut, saying he wished to be left in peace to rest after his journey.
'Rest you will have,' said Angharad, following him into the hut.
'But not from you, I see.'
'Not from me-and not until you learn that berating those who have given good service is beneath one who would account himself a worthy king. Angry with Merian you may be-'
'She disobeyed me-'
'She must have had good reason, think you?'
'We discussed it and I told her not to go,' Bran complained, throwing himself into his hide-and-antler chair. 'Yet the moment my back is turned, what does she do?'
'Your Lady Merian is a woman of great determination and resourcefulness; she is not one to be easily dominated by others.' Angharad gazed at him, her eyes alight within their wreath of familiar wrinkles. 'It is her own mind she has followed-'
'She has disobeyed me,' Bran said.
'This it is that tears at you?' replied the banfaith. 'Or is it that she might have been right to go?' Before Bran could answer, she said, 'It matters not, for now there is nothing to be done about it.'
Bran glared at her but knew that pursuing this argument any further would avail him nothing.
'Too late you show the wisdom of silence,' Angharad observed. 'So now, if you would put away childish things, tell me what happened in the north.'
Bran frowned and passed a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the memory. He gave a brief account of finding the king of Gwynedd a captive to Earl Hugh and riding into Caer Cestre to free him. 'The long and short of it,' he continued, 'is that we failed to persuade King Gruffydd to rally the tribes to our support. We cannot count on them for any men.'
The old woman considered this, nodded, but said nothing.
'Not one,' said Bran. 'We are worse off than when we began,' he concluded gloomily.
Into the fraught and fretted silence of the hut there drifted a soft, lilting melody sung by a clear and steady voice-a sound not unfamiliar in Cel Craidd, but this one was different. Angharad went to the door of the hut, opened it, and stepped outside. Bran followed and felt his anger and disappointment begin to melt away in the refrains of the tune. There, surrounded by the forest-dwellers, his head lifted high and with a voice to set the glade shimmering, Alan was singing his song about Rhi Bran and the Wolf of Cestre.
CHAPTER 24
When Bran learned that Sheriff de Glanville had returned to Saint Martin's with a force of fifty soldiers, he said nothing, but took his bow and went alone into the greenwood. Siarles was all for going after him, but Angharad advised against it, saying, 'Think yourself a king to bear a king's burden? His own counsel he must keep, if his own mind he would know.' And, to be sure, Rhi Bran returned that evening with a yearling buck and a battle plan.
First, he determined to do what he could to even the odds against him. The fine, dry summer had given way to a blessedly mild autumn, and the harvest in the valleys had been good. Most of the crops would be gathered in now against the lean seasons to follow. The granaries and storehouses would be bulging. Bran decided to help his people and, at the same time, hit the Ffreinc where it would hurt the most. He would attack in the dead heart of the darkest night of the month.
The moon had been on the wane for several days, and tonight there would be a new one; the darkness would be heavy and would aid his design. Early in the morning, Bran sent spies into the town to see what could be learned of the disposition of the sheriff 's troops. Noin and Alan had been chosen-much to Will's displeasure. 'I have no objection,' Scarlet complained, 'so long as I go along.'
'They know you too well,' Bran reminded him. 'I don't want to see you end up in that pit again-or worse. One glimpse is all the sheriff would need to put your head on a spike.'
'But you don't mind if my Noin's sweet face ends up decorating that bloody spike,' he griped.
