"Why ask me?" Bran replied, not taking his eyes from the far horizon. "I had one idea and risked everything to make it work-we all did-but it failed. I failed. I have nothing else."
"But you will think of something," said Siarles. "You can always come up with something."
"Aye, and it had better be quick," Friar Tuck pointed out. "After what happened back there, the Ffreinc will be fast on our trail. We cannot stand here in the middle of the road. What are we going to do?"
Can't you see? thought Bran. We tried and failed. It is over. Finished. The Ffreinc rule now, and they are too powerful. The best we can do is take the money and divide it out amongst the people. They can use it to start new lives somewhere else. For myself, I will go to Gwynedd and forget all about Efael.
"Bran?" said Iwan quietly. "You know we will follow you anywhere. Just tell us what you want to do."
Bran turned to his friends. He saw the need in their eyes. It was as Angharad had said: they had no one else and nowhere else to go. For better or worse, beleaguered Elfael was their home, and he was all the king they had.
Well, he was a sorry excuse for a king-and no better than his father. King Brychan had cared little enough for his people, pursuing his own way all his life. "You are not your father," Angharad had told him. "You could be twice the king he was-and ten times the man-if you so desired. "
Yet here he was, set to follow in his father's footsteps and go his own way. Was this his fate? Or was there another way? Competing thoughts roiled in his mind until one finally won out: He was not his father; it was not too late; he could still choose a better way.
God in heaven, thought Bran, I cannot leave them. What am I to do?
"What are you thinking, Bran?" asked Aethelfrith.
"I was just thinking that the enemy of my enemy is my friend," said Bran as the words came to him.
"Indeed?" Tuck wondered, regarding him askance. "And who is this dubious friend of yours?"
"Neufmarche," said Bran. "You said the baron had called a council of his vassals and liege men-"
"Yes, but-"
"The place where they are meeting, could you find it?"
"It would not be difficult, but-"
"Then lead me to him."
"See here, Bran," Tuck remonstrated, "let us talk this over."
"You said the Ffreinc will be searching for us," he countered. "They will not think to look for us in the baron's camp."
"But, Bran, what have we to do with the baron?"
"There is no justice to be had of England's king," Bran answered, his voice cutting. "Therefore, we must make our appeal wherever we find a ready ear."
Turning in the saddle, the priest appealed to Iwan. "Talk to him, John. I've grown fond of this splendid neck of mine, and before I risk it riding into the enemy's camp, I would know the reason."
"He has a fair point, Bran," said the champion. "What have we to do with Neufmarche?"
Bran turned his horse around to address them. "The king weighs heavily on de Braose's side," he said, his face aglow in the golden light of the setting sun. "With the two of them joined against us, we need a powerful ally to even the balance." Regarding Tuck, he said, "You have said yourself that Neufmarche and de Braose are rivals-"
"Rivals, yes," agreed Tuck, "who would carve up Cymru between them-and then squabble over which one had the most." He shook his head solemnly. "Neufmarche may hate de Braose every mite and morsel as much as we do, but he is no friend to us."
"If we make alliance with him," said Bran, "he will be obliged to help us. He has the power and means to rid us of de Braose."
"Tuck is right," said Iwan. "Besides, how can we persuade him to ally with us? We have nothing to offer him that he wants."
"Even so," said Siarles, "would Neufmarche make such a bargain?"
"Aye, and if he did," added Tuck, "would he keep it?"
Bran paused in silent reflection. Could Neufmarche be trusted? There was no way to tell. "Lord Cadwgan in Eiwas holds him trustworthy and just. He and his people have been treated fairly. But whether the baron honours his word or not," Bran said, the words like stones in his mouth, "we will be no worse off than we are now."
"This is a remedy of last resort," Tuck argued. "Let us exhaust all other possibilities first."
"We have done that, my friend. We have. All that is left us now is to watch the Ffreinc grow from strength to strength at our expense. Baron de Braose and the Red King mean us nothing but harm. As for Neufmarche? We have nothing to lose." Bran offered a bitter smile. "If we must sleep with the devil, let us do it and be done. This is nothing more than what my father should have done long ago. If Brychan had sworn allegiance to the Ffreinc when he had the chance, we would not be in this predicament now"
The others, unable to gainsay this argument, reluctantly agreed.
Bran, brightening at last, said, "Lead the way, Tuck, and pray with every breath that we find the friend we seek."
)Baron Bernard de Neufmarche had dismissed the last of the day's petitioners and returned to his tent, where, after summoning Remey to bring him refreshment, he removed his short cloak and eased himself into his chair. It had been a long day but, in balance, a good one and a fitting conclusion to a council that had, in the end, satisfied his every demand. Convening at Talgarth-the scene of vaunted Lord Rhys ap Tewdwr's recent demise-had been the masterstroke, providing a strong and present reminder to all under his rule that he was not afraid to deal harshly with those who failed to serve him faithfully. The point had been made and accepted. Tomorrow the council would formally end, and he would send his vassals home-some to better fates than they had hoped, others to worse-and he would return to Hereford to oversee the harvest and begin readying the castle for the influx of fresh troops in the spring.
"Your wine, sire." Remey placed a pewter goblet on the table beside the baron's chair. "I have ordered sausages to be prepared, and there is fresh bread soon. Would you like anything else while you wait?"
"The wine will suffice for now," the baron replied, easing off his boots and stretching his legs. "Bring the rest when it is ready-and some of those fraises, if there are any left"
"Of course, sire," replied the seneschal. "The sessions went well today, I assume?"
"They went very well indeed, Remey. I am content." Baron Neufmarche raised his cup and allowed himself a long, satisfying sip, savouring the fine, tart edge of the wine. Councils always brought demands, and this one more than most-owing to the prolonged absence of the king. Royal dispatch fresh from Normandie indicated that the conflict between Red William and his brother, Duke Robert, had bogged down; with summer dwindling away, there would be no further advances at least until after harvest, if then. Meanwhile, the king would repair to Rouen to lick his wounds and restock his castles.
Thus, the king's throne in England appeared likely to remain vacant into the foreseeable future. An absent king forced the lesser lords to look for other sources of protection and redress. This, Neufmarche reflected, created problems and opportunities for the greater lords like himself, whose influence and interests rivalled the king's. A baron who remained wary and alert could make the most of the opportunities that came his way.
He was just congratulating himself on the several exceptional opportunities that he had already seized this day when one of the squires who served as sentry for the camp appeared outside the tent. Bernard saw him hovering at the door flap and called, "Yes? What is it?"