It was Bran's idea to appear as wayfarers simply passing through, in the hopes of attracting as little notice as possible. He watched the hilltops and ridgeways on either side of the valley, while Tuck remained alert to anyone approaching from the rear. Overhead, a brown buzzard soared through the empty air, its shadow rippling over the smooth, cloud-dappled slopes. Ahead the river forked into two branches: one wide and shallow, one little more than a rill snaking through a narrow, brush-choked defile. Upon reaching the place where the two streams divided, Bran paused.
"Which way?" Tuck said, reining in beside him. Odo halted a few paces behind.
"You ask me that?" replied Bran with a grin. "And still you call yourself a priest?"
"I am a priest," affirmed Tuck, "and I do ask you-for, all evidence to the contrary, I cannot read the minds of men, only their hearts." He regarded the two courses. "Which way do we go?"
"The narrow way, of course," answered Bran. "'Narrow is the way and hard the road that leads to salvation…' Isn't that the way it goes?"
"'Straight is the gate and narrow the way that leadeth to life, and there be few that find it,'" the friar corrected. "You should pay better attention when the Holy Script is read."
"We'll have to walk from here," Bran said, climbing down from the saddle. "But when we reach the end, we will be beyond the borders of Elfael and out of reach of de Glanville's soldiers." He glanced at Odo. The young priest had maintained a gloomy silence since climbing into the saddle. "Do either of you want to rest a little before we move on?"
"My thanks, but no-a chance to quit this saddle is all I need just now," Tuck said, easing himself down from the saddle. "Come, Odo. A change is as good as a rest, is it not?" He wiped the sweat from his face. "Although, to be sure, a jar of ale would not go amiss."
"When day is done," said Bran, starting into the gorge. "This way, you two."
They had left the forest before dawn, crossing the open ground to the south of the caer while it was still dark, quickly losing themselves in the seamed valleys of Elfael. They proceeded ever north ward, keeping out of sight of the fortress and town until both were well behind them-and even then Bran continued with all caution. A chance encounter with a wayward Ffreinc party was to be avoided at all costs.
Leading the horses, they resumed their trek, picking their way along the stream. It was slow going because rocks, brush, and nettles filled the defile, making each step a small ordeal. The bowlegged priest struggled to keep up with his long-legged companions, scrambling over the rocks and dodging thorny branches, all the while ruing the turn of events that had made this journey necessary.
They had left the forest before dawn, crossing the open ground to the south of the caer while it was still dark, quickly losing themselves in the seamed valleys of Elfael, keeping out of sight of the fortress and town until both were well behind them-and even then Bran continued with all caution. A chance encounter with a wayward Ffreinc party was to be avoided at all costs.
"We acted in good faith," Bran had declared in the council following the abbot's misguided ambush. "But Hugo sought to betray us-once again. It is only by God's favour that Odo and I escaped unharmed and none of our men were killed or wounded."
Bran and his archers had just returned from their encounter with the Ffreinc, and one glance at their scowling faces gave everyone to know that all was not well.
Tuck, with Merian a close step behind, was there to meet the returning peace party. "God love you, Iwan, what happened?" Tuck asked, snagging hold of the big man's arm as he came through the blasted oak. "Did they fail to ring the bell?"
"Nay, Friar," answered the champion, shaking his head slowly."They rang the bell for all to hear-but then attacked us anyway."
"They were lying in wait for us," said Siarles, joining them. "Hiding in the forest."
"Gysburne and his men showed themselves for the black devils they are," said Scarlet.
"Aye, and the sheriff too," added Siarles. "Dressed up as monks, some of 'em."
"Even so, we honoured our part," said Iwan. "We did not draw on them until they attacked Bran."
"Was anyone hurt?" Tuck glanced quickly at the other archers trooping into the settlement. There was no blood showing; all seemed to be in ruddy good health.
"No hurt to anyone but themselves," Scarlet pointed out. "A fella'd a thought they'd have learnt a little respect for a Welsh bowman by now. Seems they are a thick lot, these Ffreinc, say what you will."
The friar heard these words, and his heart fell like a stone dropped into a bottomless well. The slender hope that the abbot would accept the offered peace sank instantly, swallowed in the knowledge that Abbot Hugo would never be appeased. In light of this new outrage, he felt the fool for even imagining such a thing possible.
"You did what Christian duty required, and it will be accounted to your credit," Tuck assured them lamely. "God will yet reward you for remaining true to your part."
"No doubt, Friar," replied Siarles. "The same way he helps them who help themselves, methinks."
"I do not blame you for being disappointed," Tuck said, "but you should not place the failure at the Almighty's feet, when it-"
"Spare us, Tuck," snapped Bran. He and Odo, the last to arrive, passed the others as they stood talking. "I am not of a mind to hear it." Addressing the men, he said, "Get something to eat, all of you. Then I want my advisors to come to me and we will hold council again-this time it is a council of war."
The six archers moved off to find some food, leaving Tuck, Merian, and the others looking on in dismay.
"I feared this might happen," said Merian. "Still, we had to try." She looked to the friar for assurance. "We did have to try."
"We did," confirmed the priest. "And we were right." He glanced at the young woman beside him. How lovely she was; how noble of face and form. And how determined. A pang of regret pierced him to see her once-fine clothes now stained and growing threadbare from their hard use in the greenwood. She was made for finer things, to be sure, but had cast her lot with the outlaw band; and her fate, like all who called the forest home, was that of a fugitive.
"Ah, my soul," he sighed, feeling the weight of their failure settle upon him. "So much hardship and sadness could have been avoided if only that blasted abbot had agreed."
"I had my hopes, too, Friar," offered Merian. "My father has ruled under Baron Neufmarche these many years-to the benefit of both, I think. It can be done-I know it can. But Hugo de Rainault is a wicked man, and there is no reasoning with him. He will never leave, never surrender an inch of ground until he is dead."
"Alas, I fear you've struck to the heart of it," confessed Tuck, shaking his head sadly. "No doubt that is where the trouble lies."
"Where, Friar?"
"In the hearts of ever-sinful men, my lady," he told her. "In the all-too-wicked human heart."
After the men had eaten, those who were counted among King Raven's advisors joined their lord in his hut. As they took their places around the fire ring, Bran said, "We need more men, and I am going to-"
More men, thought Tuck, and remembered what it was that he had learned from the abbot. "Good Lord!" he cried, starting up at the memory. "Forgive me," he said quickly as all eyes turned towards him, "but I have just remembered something that might be useful."
Bran regarded him, waiting for him to continue.
"It is just that-" Glancing around, he said to Iwan, "How many soldiers did you say the abbot and sheriff had with them?"