'Can I not?' growled the king. 'Who are you, sir, to tell me what I can do? The priest is right-shut your mouth.' Turning to Bran, he said, 'It grows hot and I am thirsty. Can we discuss this somewhere out of the sun? I have wine in my tent. Come, let us talk together.'
'I would like nothing more,' replied Bran when Tuck had told him what the king said. 'However, I would like to choose the place of discussion.'
'Where, then?'
'The fortress is just there,' said Bran, pointing down the slope to the caer on its mound in the near distance. 'We will talk there.'
'But the stronghold is full of your warriors,' the king pointed out.
'Some warriors, yes,' allowed Bran. 'But farmers and herders, too-the people who have suffered under de Braose, Abbot Hugo, and Sheriff de Glanville these last years.'
'Am I to go into this den of wolves alone?' said the king.
'Bring as many of your knights as you wish,' Bran told him. 'The more who see us swear peace with one another, the better it will be for everyone.'
When King William and his knights rode into the fortress yard at midday, Bran and his people were ready to receive them. Bran, with Merian on one hand and Tuck on the other, was flanked by Iwan and Siarles on the right, and Will Scarlet and Alan a'Dale on the left. Behind him were other members of the Grellon-Noin, Owain, Brocmael, and Ifor, and most of the forest-dwellers. Baron Bernard Neufmarche stood a little apart, with two of his knights holding Sheriff Richard de Glanville, bound at the wrists, between them. Beside the knights stood Bishop Asaph gripping the oaken shaft of his brass-topped crosier, and Odo clutching a big Bible.
The king of England was accompanied by a dozen knights, Marshal Guy of Gysburne amongst them. Around the perimeter of the yard stood the people of Elfael. Outside the walls of the fortress, the army was drawn up and waiting. Beyond them, on the heights above the valley, the Cymry kings and their archers kept watch on the proceedings. If William's army moved to attack, they would move to prevent it.
William Rufus rode to the centre of the yard, where his personal canopy had been set up. He dismounted and was greeted by Bran. Merian and Baron Neufmarche joined them to make certain that no misunderstandings arose because of a simple lack of language on either side. A small table had been set up beneath the canopy, and two chairs. On the table was a jar and a single bowl.
'Your Majesty,' said Bran, 'if it please you, sit with me. We will drink together.'
'I would like nothing better,' said the king. Seeing Neufmarche, he stopped and turned to his wayward vassal. 'Baron, do not think that your part in this will be ignored.'
The baron inclined his head in acceptance of the king's charge, but replied, 'What I have done I did for the greater good.'
'Ha!' scoffed the king. 'Your own good most of all, I do not doubt. By the Virgin, man, how could you turn against me?'
'It was not so much turning against you, Sire,' replied the baron, 'but protecting myself. Even so, it is fortunate that we did not have to try one another in battle.'
'Fortunate, eh?' said the king. 'We will talk of this another time.' He moved to take his place beneath the brightly coloured canopy. Bran joined him and sat down, with Merian on one side and Tuck on the other. The baron stood to one side between the two kings and, acting as steward, poured wine into the bowl. He handed the bowl to Bran, who took it up, drank a draught, and then offered it to William.
Red William accepted the bowl and drank, then returned it to Bran. The back-and-forth continued until the bowl was drained, whereupon Baron Neufmarche refilled it and placed it on the table between them.
'God with you, Your Majesty,' said Bran, who between Merian and the baron was able to make his thoughts known. 'And though we might both wish that the occasion was otherwise, I do bid you welcome to Caer Cadarn and Elfael. It is my hope that we rise from this table better friends than when we sat down.'
'Let us cut to the bone,' replied the king in English. 'What are your terms?'
Bran smiled. 'I want only what I have always wanted-'
'Your precious throne, yes,' answered the king. 'You shall have it. What else?'
'Full pardon for myself and my Grellon, and any who have aided me in returning the realm to my rule,' said Bran. 'And that will include Baron Neufmarche.'
The king frowned at this last part when it was explained to him, but gave a grudging nod of assent. 'What else?'
'Nothing more,' said Bran. 'Only your seal on a treaty of peace between our kingdoms.'
William gave a bark of disbelief when Neufmarche translated Bran's last remarks. 'Nothing else? No reparations? No silver to pay your soldiers?'
'My warriors are mine to repay,' said Bran. 'We Cymry take care of our own.'
'I wish every fiefdom took care of itself, by the blood,' replied William. He leaned back in his chair and gave every appearance of beginning to enjoy himself. 'If you have nothing else, then hear my terms. I require your oath of fealty and a tribute to be paid each year on…' He tapped his chin as he thought, then caught a glimpse of Tuck and said, 'You, there, priest-if you are a priest-what is the nearest holy day to this one?'
Tuck moved a step forward. 'That would be Gwyl Iwan y Coed,' he replied. 'The Feast of Saint John the Baptist, in plain English.'
'John le Baptiste, oui,' said Neufmarche, passing this along to the king.
'Henceforth, on the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, a tribute of…' He looked around at the rude fortress and the mean, common dress of the half-starved inhabitants and the grim determination he saw on their faces and made his decision. 'A tribute of one good longbow and a sheaf of arrows to be presented to the Royal Court at Londein and given over to the care of the Chief Justiciar.'
Merian gasped with joy, and Tuck, who caught most of what was said, chuckled and told the others standing round about.
'Oh, Bran,' breathed Merian, giving Bran's shoulder a squeeze. Tuck relayed the terms to the Grellon and all those looking on. 'The king has decided to be generous.'
Baron Neufmarche and the king exchanged a brief word, and the baron said, 'King William will accept the release of his sheriff now.' He summoned the knights forward, and de Glanville was marched to the table.
'As a token of the peace we have sworn between us, I release him to your authority,' said Bran. He motioned to his champion, standing behind Friar Tuck. 'Iwan, cut him loose.'
The big warrior stepped forward and, grinning with good pleasure at the astonishing turn events had taken, drew the knife from his belt and began cutting through the bonds at the sheriff 's wrists. The rawhide straps fell away, and with a sweep of his hand, Iwan indicated that the prisoner was free to go.
As Iwan replaced the knife and made to step back, de Glanville snatched the dagger from his belt and leaped forward. In the same swift movement, he drew back his hand and prepared to plunge the dagger into Bran's unprotected neck. The naked blade flashed forward and down. Tuck saw the arcing glint hard in the bright sunlight and gave out a yelp of warning. Iwan, startled, put out his hand.
But it was too late.
The knife slashed down a killing stroke.
Then, even as the cruel blade descended to its mark, the sheriff 's hand faltered and appeared to seize in its forward sweep. Halted, it hovered in midstroke. The knife point quivered, then fell to the ground.
It happened so fast that almost no one saw what had arrested the knife until Sheriff de Glanville let out a shriek of agony and crumpled to his knees. Only slowly, as if in a dream, did the stunned onlookers discover Will Scarlet standing over the sheriff, his own hand clamped tight over de Glanville's. He gave the captured hand a squeeze, and there was a meaty crunch and pop as the sheriff 's fingers gave way.
De Glanville gave out a roar of pain and anger and swung at Scarlet with his free hand. Tuck, snatching the crosier from Bishop Asaph's hand, grasped it like a quarterstaff and swung it once around his head and brought it down with a solid thump on the top of the sheriff 's head; de Glanville crumpled to the ground, where he lay on his side, whimpering and cradling his broken fingers.
'Stand him up!' commanded William with an airy wave of his hand. Turning to Bran he spoke with some sincerity. 'His Majesty offers heartfelt apologies,' Neufmarche translated. 'He asks what you would like him to do with the rogue.'
'I will leave that to Scarlet,' replied Bran, looking to Will for an answer.
