Tuck

Gruffydd rose, smiling. 'I owe you my life and throne and more. Blind fool that I am, it took me a little time to see that.' Taking Bran by the arm, he pulled him away. 'But come, Llewelyn is here-he has been most persuasive, too-and I've brought some others who are anxious to meet the renowned Rhi Bran y Hud.'

The next thing Bran knew he was surrounded by knights and noblemen-both Cymry and Ffreinc-all of them pledging their swords to him. He greeted all in turn, his thoughts churning, emotion running high as he tried to comprehend the magnitude of the good that had just befallen him. Baron Neufmarche remained a little apart, looking on from his saddle; he motioned Merian to him and had a brief word. She hurried to Bran and said, 'No one is happier than I am for this glad meeting, but the baron wishes me to say that it would not be the wisest course to be caught on the road just now. He asks if you might lead us to your camp, where the commanders can discuss the ordering of the troops and prepare the battle plan.'

'The baron is right,' allowed Gruffydd. 'Is it far, your camp?'

'My settlement was destroyed-'

'Oh, Bran, no,' said Merian. 'Was anyone…?'

'I am sorry, Merian.' Bran put a hand to her shoulder to steady her for the blow. 'Angharad was killed protecting Cel Craidd, and little Nia by accident. It happened when we were on a raid. Tomas is dead, too-from a Ffreinc spear.'

Merian's face crumpled. Bran slid his arm around her shoulders. 'Later, my love,' he whispered, his mouth close to her ear, 'we will grieve them properly later. I need your strength just now.'

Nodding, she lifted her head and rubbed the tears from her eyes. 'What would you have me do?'

'Tell the baron there is a place farther on along the road where we can gather.' He shook his head. 'The troops will have to spread out into the forest and find places to camp of their own. My men can lead them.'

Bran raised his bow and loosed a shrill whistle that pierced the forest quiet and resounded among the rocks. From every side appeared his fighting men: Scarlet, Tuck, Rhoddi, Owain, Ifor, Brocmael, Idris, Geronwy, and Beli and Llwyd. They clambered down the rocks to join the company on the road and receive the good news. Moments later, Bran's new army was on the move with Bran himself leading them-through the gorge and beyond it to a place where the land flattened out once more. The forest thinned somewhat around a stand of great oaks and elms, and here Bran gave orders for Rhoddi and Owain to lead the army into the wood round about and let them rest. 'Tuck,' he said, snatching the friar by the sleeve as he greeted Merian, 'stay with me-and you, too, Scarlet. We are going to hold council to plan the battle.'

While men and horses and wagons trundled into a glen in the wood, there to establish a rude camp, the kings and noblemen sat down with Bran to learn the state of affairs in Elfael, and the strength and position of King William's troops. Thus the council began, and it was long before each of the great lords had their say and all points of view had been taken into account. The sun was a dull copper glow low in the west, and the first stars were beginning to light up the sky, when a plan of battle that all agreed upon began to emerge.

Bran was, by turns, impressed with the expertise of his new battle chiefs and irked at the necessity of biding his time while they hammered out details he would have settled long ago. But, all in all, as the last light of day faded, he declared himself pleased with the plan and confident in his commanders. The scouts would go out at dawn and make a final assessment of the enemy position ahead of the battle. Then the rebel forces would take the field against the king's army, led by the Cymry archers, supported and guarded on the flanks by Baron Neufmarche and his knights.

As soon as the council concluded, the lords went to find food and drink with their men. Bran sent Scarlet and Tuck to tell his own war band what had happened, and then sought Merian. 'It is the answer to prayer long in coming,' he told her. She stepped easily into his embrace. Feeling the living warmth of her in his arms, he confessed, his voice faltering slightly, 'I never hoped to see you again. I thought we had parted for good.'

'Shhh,' she said. 'I will never leave you again.' She gave him a lingering kiss and then said, 'Tell me all that has happened while I've been away.'

They talked then, and the twilight deepened around them. They were still talking when Tuck came upon them. Unwilling to intrude on their intimate moment, he settled himself on the root of a tree to wait, thinking what a strange and wonderful day it had been. And here were Bran and Merian, such a good match. There would be a wedding soon if he had anything to say about it… and, he thought, if they were all still alive this time tomorrow.

Leaning back against the rough bole of the old elm, he closed his eyes. From the depths of misery over the recent loss of Angharad, Tomas, and Nia, who could have foreseen that their fortunes would rise to such heights so quickly? Even so, the victory was not yet won-far from it. There were battles to be fought, and the lives of many swung in the balance. Death and destruction would be great indeed. Oh, Merciful Lord, he sighed inwardly, if that could somehow be prevented… 'Let this cup pass from us,' he prayed softly.

'Ah, Tuck,' said Bran, interrupting the friar's meditation, 'you're here-good.' Still holding Merian, he turned to the little friar. 'I have a job for you.'

CHAPTER 40

Dawn was still but a whisper in the pale eastern sky when Tuck finally reached Saint Martin's. He paused below the brow of a hill a short distance from the little town and dismounted. He trudged wearily up to the top of the hill and there stood for a time to observe. The moon, bright still, illuminated the hills and filled the valleys with soft shadows. Nothing moved anywhere.

He yawned and rubbed his face with his hands. 'This friar is getting too old for these midnight rambles.' His empty stomach growled. 'Too right,' he muttered.

At Bran's behest, Tuck had ridden all night, making a wide, careful circuit of the valley to avoid being seen by any Ffreinc sentries or watchmen posted on the outer perimeter of King William's sprawling encampment, which lay between the forest and Elfael's fortress, Caer Cadarn. Now, coming upon the town from the north, he paused to make certain he could continue to the completion of his mission. Having come this far, it would not do to be caught now.

There did not seem to be any Ffreinc troops around; he could not see anyone moving about the low walls. The town was quiet, asleep. 'Well, Tuck, my man, time to beard the lion in his den.'

Struggling back into the saddle, he resumed his errand, descending the hill and starting up the gentle slope to the town, keeping his eyes open for any sign of discovery at his approach. But there was no one about, and he entered the town alone and, for all he could tell, unobserved. He dismounted and tethered the horse to an iron ring set in the wall of the guardhouse, then quickly and quietly started across the deserted market square towards the abbey.

The abbey gates were closed, but he rapped gently on the door and eventually managed to rouse the porter. 'I have a matter of utmost urgency for the bishop,' he announced to the priest who unlatched the door. 'Take me to him at once.'

The young monk, yawning, shook his head. It was then Tuck recognized him. 'Odo! Wake up, boyo. It's me, Tuck. I have to see Bishop Asaph without delay.'

'God with you, Friar,' said Odo, rubbing his eyes. 'The bishop will be asleep.'

'There is no time,' said Tuck, pressing himself through the gap. 'It is life and death, Odo. We'll have to wake him.'

Tuck took the young monk's elbow, spun him around, and started walking towards the palatial lodge Abbot Hugo had built for himself. 'Never fear, Brother, I would not disturb the good bishop's rest if it was not of highest importance.'

'This way, then,' said Odo, and led Tuck not to the main entrance, but around the side to a small room where the secnab had lodged. 'He prefers a less ostentatious cell,' explained the young scribe, knocking on the door.

There came a sleepy voice asking them to wait, and in a moment the door opened. There stood the wizened, elderly priest, barefoot, his haze of white hair a wispy nimbus on his head. One look at Tuck and he said, 'How may I serve you, Brother?'

'Bishop Asaph,' said Tuck, 'it is Brother Aethelfrith-do you remember me?'

The old priest studied his face in the moonlight. Then, recognition flooded into the pale eyes. 'Bran's friend!