He glanced to Angharad for support, but the old woman admonished him, saying, 'What the friar suggests has merit, Lord King. Think you: force has availed us nothing, nor has any other remedy offered a cure for this wasting blight. We hurt them in the grove, mind. Our enemies may be ready to listen to such an offer. It would be well to ponder the matter further.'
'I bow to your judgment,' allowed Bran grimly. Turning to the assembly, he said, 'Let us suppose, for the moment, that we send an offer of peace to the abbot. What then?'
'Then it is for the Ffreinc to decide, is it not?' replied Tuck. 'Either they accept and proceed according to your decree-'
'And if they don't?' wondered Siarles.
'We will be no worse off,' suggested Merian.
'But whatever happens will be on their heads,' added Tuck. 'At all events, it is our Christian duty to try for peace if it lays in our power.'
Bran chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment. Tuck thought he could see a chink of light shining in the darkness of Bran's bleak mood. 'Lord Bran,' the friar said, 'I would like to take the message to Hugo myself and alone.'
'Why alone?' said Bran.
'Priest to priest,' replied Tuck. 'That is how I mean to approach him-two men of God answerable to the Almighty. Blessed are the peacemakers, are they not?'
'As Angharad suggests,' put in Merian, 'the abbot may welcome the opportunity to be rid of this bloodshed.'
'Hugo will welcome the opportunity to carve him like a Christmas ham,' observed Scarlet. To Tuck, he said, 'He'll roast your rump and feed it to his hounds.'
'Nay,' said Tuck. 'He'll do no such thing. I am a brother cleric and a minister of the church. A rogue he may be, but he will receive me, as he must.'
'While I do not expect the abbot to honour any offer we put before him,' said Iwan, 'I agree with our man Tuck-we should do what we can to avoid another bloodletting, as it may well be our blood next time instead of theirs. Try as I might, however, I can think of no other way to avoid it-our choices are that few. It is worth a try.'
There was more talk then, as others added their voices to the discussion-some for the idea, others against. In the end, however, Tuck's proposition carried the day.
'Then it is decided,' declared Bran when everyone had had their say. 'In observance of our Christian duty, and for the sake of our people, we will make this offer of peace to Hugo and urge him by all means to accept it and to support me before King William.'
'It is the right decision, my lord,' said Merian, pressing close. 'If Hugo will listen to reason, then you'll have reclaimed what is rightfully yours without risking the lives of any more of your people.'
'Right or wrong it makes no difference,' Bran told her. 'We are too weak to pursue the war further on our own.' He declared the council at an end and said, 'I will frame a message for Tuck to deliver to the abbot. If he accepts my offer, we will soon be out of the forest and back in our own lands.'
'I'll believe it when it happens,' grumbled Siarles.
'You're not alone there,' Scarlet said. 'Give 'em a year o' Sundays and a angel choir to show 'em the way, the bloody Ffreinc will never shift an English inch.'
'Then pray God to change their hearts,' Tuck said. 'Do not think it impossible just because it has never happened.'
CHAPTER 5
The council concluded, and as everyone dispersed Tuck lingered in Angharad's presence a little longer. Close to her, he was aware once again of a curious sensation-like that of standing beneath one of the venerable giants of the forest, an oak or elm of untold age. It was, he decided, the awareness that he was near something so large and calm and rooted to depths he could scarcely imagine. With her face a web of wrinkles and her thinning hair a haze of wisp on her head, she seemed the very image of age, yet commanded all she beheld with the keen intelligence of her deep-set, dark eyes. 'I hope I have served him wisely,' he told the old woman.
'So hope we all,' she replied.
'I am afraid Siarles is right-offering peace is just begging for trouble.'
'Trouble have we in abundance,' the banfaith pointed out. 'It is a most hardy crop.'
'Too true,' the friar agreed.
'Hear me, friend priest,' she said, holding him with her deep-set, dark eyes. 'This war began long ago; we merely join it now. The trouble is not of our making, but it is our portion and ours to endure.'
'That does not cheer me much,' sighed Tuck.
'Regrets, have you?'
'No, never,' he answered. 'That is the duty of any Christian.'
'Then trust God with it and that which is given you, do.'
'You are right, of course,' he said at last.
Angharad regarded the friar with a kindly expression. The little priest with his rotund, bandy-legged form, his shaggy tonsure, his stained and tattered robe-smelling of smoke and sweat and who knows what else-there was that much like a donkey about him. And like the humble beast of burden, he was loyal and long-suffering, able to bear the heavy load of responsibility placed upon him now. 'As God is our lord and leader,' she said, 'it is our portion to obey and follow. We trust him to lead us aright. As with our Heavenly Lord, so with Bran. More we cannot do just now, but we must do that at least.'
'Ah, but earthly vessels are all too fragile, are they not? We trust them at our peril.'
The old woman smiled gently. 'Yet it is all we have.'
'Too true,' Tuck agreed.
'So we trust and pray-never knowing which is the more needful.'
Tuck accepted her counsel and made his way to the edge of the forest settlement, where he found Bran and Merian sitting knee to knee on stumps facing one another as if in contest, while Will, Noin, and Odo stood looking on. 'They know we will fight,' Merian was saying. 'If ever there was the smallest doubt, we showed them in the grove. But you must give them some assurance that we will not seek revenge if they accept your offer.'
Bran nodded, conceding the point.
'They have to know that they are not simply cutting their own throats,' she insisted.
'I understand,' Bran replied. 'And I agree. Go on.'
'It must be something they can trust,' she continued, 'even if they don't trust you.'
'Granted, Merian,' said Bran, exasperation edging into his voice. 'What do you suggest?'
'Well'-she bit her lip-'I don't know.'
'Maybe we could get the abbot at Saint Dyfrig's to oversee the truce,' suggested Noin. 'He is a good man, and they know him.'
'After what happened in the square on Twelfth Night, I cannot think they would trust any of us any farther than they could spit a mouthful of nails,' Scarlet said, shaking his head.
'It must be someone they know, someone they can rely on to be fair.'
Merian's face clenched in thought. 'I know!' she said, glancing up quickly. 'We could ask my father…'
'Your father-what possible reason could Hugo have for trusting him?'
'Because he is a loyal vassal of King William, as is the abbot himself…'
'No,' said Bran, jumping up quickly. 'This is absurd.' He began stalking around the stump. 'It won't work.'
'Why-because you did not think of it?'
'Your father hates me,' Bran said. 'And that was before I abducted you! God alone knows what he thinks of me now. If that was not enough, Lord Cadwgan answers to Baron Neufmarche, his liege lord-and if the baron were to get wind of this there is no way we could keep him out of it.'
'The Ffreinc would trust the baron,' Merian said.
