Tuck

'Brave fools,' amended Owain.

'Is this the main body?' asked Bran.

'I made it three divisions,' Rhoddi replied, and explained how he had worked his way down to the bottom of the ridge to see what could be learned of the king's army from that vantage. 'Most are mounted, but there are a number on foot as well. And those I saw appeared but lightly armed.'

'They know they will not be facing knights on horseback,' surmised Bran, 'so they need not overburden themselves or their animals.'

Tuck backed slowly down the rocks and into a little sunny patch nearby; hitching up his robe, he knelt in the long grass and, crossing his hands over his chest, he lifted his face to the clear blue sky above and began to pray, saying, 'Commander of the Heavenly Host, You are no stranger to war and fighting. I know You'd rather have peace, and I'd have it, too, if it was left to me. But You know that sometimes that en't possible, and if peace was in William's mind I don't reckon he'd be marching against us now. So, I'm asking You to think back to Your man, Moses, and how You supported him in all his wrangles with the Pharaoh-Who-Knew-Not-Joseph. Great of Might, I'm asking You to support Bran and his men today-and like You did with the Hebrew slaves when Pharaoh chased them out of Egypt, I'm asking You to drown the armies of the enemy in their own bloodlust. Last but not least, I'm asking You to ease the suffering of the wounded and, above all, to treat kindly the souls of those who will be coming to stand before You in a little while. Grant them eternal rest in Your wide kingdom for the sake of Your most Merciful Son, Our Lord Jesus.'

Tuck was roused from his prayers by the sound of a trumpet-small but bright as a needle point in the quiet forest. 'Amen, so be it,' he whispered and, crossing himself, he picked up his staff and hauled himself back up the rocks to where Bran, Owain, and Rhoddi were waiting.

The trumpet sounded again: a single long, unwavering note.

'What is the meaning of that?' wondered Owain. 'Vanity?'

'Maybe they think to frighten us,' suggested Tuck.

'Take more than a pip on the horn to send a shiver up my spine,' said Rhoddi. He nocked an arrow to the string, but Bran put a hand on his arm and pulled it down.

'They're still trying to get us to show ourselves so they can mark our positions,' said Bran, 'perhaps get some idea how large a force they will face. If they only knew how few…' He let the rest of the thought go.

The trumpet called once more, and this time the trumpeter himself rode into view. Behind him came two knights bearing banners: a blue square with three long tails of green and a cross of gold in the centre surrounded by small green crosslets. Behind them could be seen the first ranks of knights; some of these also carried banners of red and blue, some with yellow lions, some with crosses of white and red.

'Owain,' said Bran, 'find yourself a good position somewhere just there'-he pointed a little farther along the rock wall-'and be ready to loose on my signal.' As the young warrior departed, Bran turned to the friar. 'Tuck,' he said, placing a bundle of arrows upright at his feet, 'I want you to see that we do not run out of arrows in this first skirmish. Keep us supplied and let us know how many we have left if supplies run low.'

'Good as done,' said Tuck. He scuttled back down the rocks and arranged the bundles in stacks of three which he then hauled up to a place just below the archers to keep them within easy reach. By the time he rejoined Rhoddi and Bran, the Ffreinc were much closer. Tuck could make out individual faces beneath the round helmets of the knights. They rode boldly on, scanning the rocks for the first sign of attack. Some were sweating beneath their heavy mail, the water glistening in the sunlight as it dripped down their necks and into their padded leather tunics.

Both Bran and Rhoddi had arrows nocked and ready. 'We'll wait until they come directly below us,' Bran was saying. 'The first to fall will-'

Even as he was speaking there came the whining shriek of an arrow, followed by the hard slap of an iron head striking home. In the same instant, one of the knights was thrown so far back in the saddle he toppled over the rump of his horse.

'No!' muttered Bran between clenched teeth. 'Not yet. Who did that?' he demanded, looking around furiously. 'Rhoddi, Tuck-did you see? Who did that?'

'There!' said Tuck. 'It came from up there.'

He pointed to a place where the road crested the ridge and there, four men could be seen kneeling in the middle of the road.

The Ffreinc knights saw them, too, and those in the fore rank lowered their spears, put spurs to their horses, and charged.

'Take them!' cried Bran, and before the words had left his mouth two arrows were streaking towards the attacking knights. The missiles struck sharp and fast, dropping the foemen as they passed beneath the rocky outcrop. Two more knights appeared and joined the first two in the dust of the King's Road.

The archers on the road seemed unconcerned by the commotion their appearance had caused. They calmly loosed arrow after arrow into the body of knights now halted in the road still some distance away from the place Bran had set for the ambush.

'Tuck!' said Bran, furious that his plan had been spoiled-so needlessly and so early. 'Get down there and stop them. Hurry!'

While Bran and Rhoddi worked to keep the knights pinned down, Tuck scrambled back into the forest and, tearing through the undergrowth and bracken, made for the top of the ridge where the unknown archers had placed themselves.

'Hold!' he shouted, tumbling into the road. 'Put up!'

'Friar Tuck!'

Tuck recognized the voice. 'Brocmael! God love you, man, get out of here!'

'We saw some Ffreinc down there and thought to put the fear of God into them, Friar.'

'There's a battle on,' the friar told him. He glanced at the young man's companions. 'Follow me before the whole Ffreinc army falls on your foolish heads.'

'Greetings, Bishop Balthus,' said the man nearest him.

'Ifor! Bless your unthinking head, that's King William the Red's army you've attacked, and they'll be on us like bees on honeycomb.'

By the time the newcomers reached the rocks, Bran and Rhoddi were slinging arrows down into the road as fast as they could draw. Shouts and screams of men and horses crashing and thrashing echoed along the rock walls of the defile. Already, the bodies were thick on the ground. Brocmael and his companions took one look at the chaos below and joined in.

'Cenau Brocmael,' said Bran as the young man came to stand beside him, 'as good as it is to see you, I could have wished you'd held your water a little while longer.'

'Forgive me, my lord. I did not know you were lurking hereabouts. Have we spoiled the hunt for you?'

'A little,' Bran admitted, sending feathered death into the churning mass of soldiers below. 'Would you have taken on the king's army by yourself?'

'I thought it was just a few knights out for a jaunt in the forest.' He paused to consider. 'Is it really the king's army, then?'

'The king and his many minions, yes,' put in Tuck, 'along with a right handsome multitude of knights and men-at-arms so they won't be lonely.'

'Another sheaf, Tuck!' called Bran, loosing the last arrow from his bag.

Tuck hurried to the pile and, taking a bundle under each arm, climbed up to the archers. He opened one bundle for Bran and placed one nearby for Rhoddi, then took two more to Owain. Across the road, the arrows streaked through the sun-bright air as Scarlet and Tomas and their two farm lads loosed and loosed again in deadly rhythm. Many of the knights had quit their saddles and were trying to scale the rocks. Weighed down by their heavy mail coats, they moved slowly and were not difficult to pick off, but more and more soldiers were streaming up the hill to the fight.

'How many are with you?' Bran asked the young lord, drawing and loosing in the same breath.

'Besides Ifor-only Geronwy and Idris,' answered Brocmael, 'good bowmen both. I would like to have brought more, but we had to sneak away as it was.'

'I expect…' Bran began, drawing and loosing again. The arrow sang from his bow into the heaving chaos below. '… that your uncle will not be best pleased.'