Once beyond the castle fields, the hunting party entered a rough countryside of small holdings and grazing lands, hedged about by dense woodland through which wide trails had been clear cut-Earl Hugh's vaunted hunting runs. Wide enough to let a horse run at full gallop without getting slapped by branches either side, they pursued a lazy curving pattern into the close-grown wood; a few hundred paces inside the entrance the dense foliage closed in, cutting off all sight and sound of the wider world. This, Tuck considered, would serve their purpose right fair-if Ifor and Brocmael could keep their wits about them in the tangle of bramble thickets and scrub wood brush that cloaked the edges of the run.
The party rode deeper into the wood, and Tuck listened to the soft plod of the horses' hooves on the damp turf and breathed the warm air deep. As the sun rose and the greenwood warmed, he began to sweat in his heavy robes. He allowed himself to drop a little farther behind the others, and noticed that the two young Welshmen had likewise fallen behind the leaders.
The search has begun, thought Tuck.
Soon the others were some distance ahead. Tuck picked up a little speed and drew up even with the Welshmen. "Be about your business, lads," he said as he passed by them. "I'll go ahead and keep watch and give a shout if Hugh or his men come back this way."
Ifor and Brocmael stopped then, and Tuck rode on, still taking his time, keeping his eye on Bran and Earl Hugh and the others now fading into the dappled shadow of the trail far ahead. When he had put enough distance between himself and the two behind him, the friar reined his mount to a stop and waited, listening. He heard only the light flutter of the breeze lifting the leaves of the upper branches and the tiny tick and click of beetles in the long grass.
He had almost decided that Hugh and the others had forgotten about them when he heard the sound of returning hoofbeats. In a moment, he saw two horses emerge from the shadowed pathway ahead. The earl had sent his knights back to see what had happened to the stragglers.
Glancing quickly behind him, Tuck searched for a sign of his two young comrades, but saw nothing. "Hurry, lads," he muttered between his teeth. "The wolf 's pups are nosing about."
Then, as the two Ffreinc knights neared, Tuck squirmed ungracefully from the saddle and, stooping to the right foreleg of his mount, lifted the animal's leg and began examining the hoof. There was nothing wrong with it, of course, but he made as if the beast might have picked up a stone or a thorn. As the two hailed him in French, he let them see him digging at the underside of the hoof with his fingers. One of the knights directed a question at him as much as to say, "What goes here?"
"Mon cheval est…" Tuck began. He pretended not to know the word for lame, or limping either, so just shrugged and indicated the hoof. The two exchanged a word, and then the second knight dismounted and crossed to where he stood. He bent and raised the hoof to examine it. Tuck stole a quick glance behind; the two tardy Welshmen were nowhere in sight. Sending up a prayer for them to hurry, he cleared his throat and laid his finger to the hoof in the huntsman's hand, pointing to a place where he had been digging with his finger. "Une pierre," he said. That the animal had picked up a pebble was perhaps the most likely explanation, and the knight seemed happy with that.
"Boiteux?" he asked.
Tuck shrugged and smiled his incomprehension. The knight released the hoof and took hold of the bridle, and walked the animal in a circle around him, studying the leg all the while. Finally, satisfied that whatever had been wrong was no longer troubling the beast, he handed the reins back to Tuck, saying, "Pendre seile."
Tuck took his time gathering his bishop's skirts and, with the help of the knight to boost him, fought his way back onto the high horse. Taking up the reins once more, he heard the sound of hoof-beats thudding on the trail behind. He turned in the saddle to see Ifor and Brocmael trotting towards them. Tuck hailed them and, satisfied now that the stragglers were all together once more, the Ffreinc knights led them up the game run to rejoin the others.
They soon came to a small clearing where Count Rexindo and Earl Hugh were waiting. At that moment, the hounds gave voice. "La chasse commence!" cried the earl and, lashing his horse, galloped away, followed by his knights.
Bran wheeled his mount but lingered a moment to ask, "Success?"
"Just as we planned, my lord," replied Ifor.
Brocmael made a furtive gesture, indicating the empty lance holder attached to his saddle, and said, "Never fear; we were not seen."
"Well done," said Bran. "Now we hunt, and pray we sight the game before our beefy host. Nothing would please me more than to steal the prize from under Hugh's long Ffreinc nose."
CHAPTER 17
Three days of hunting from earliest daylight to evening dusk, and each day Bran, having taken a great interest in the earl's hounds, greeted the dogs with morsels of food he had saved from the previous night's supper board-gobbets of meat he kept in a little bag. Tuck watched the process with fascination and admiring approval as Earl Hugh swallowed the bait in a manner not at all unlike his hounds: and all because Count Rexindo let it be known that he wanted to buy three or four of the animals to take back to Spain as a gift for his father, the duke. The ever-greedy earl welcomed the sale, of course, fixing the price at a princely thirty marks-a price that made Tuck's eyes water. He could never have brought himself to buy three smelly hounds when he might have built an entire church-altar to steeple and everything in between-and had money left over.
Having favoured the hounds, they mounted their horses and all rode out to spend the day working the runs-to be followed by a night's drinking and roister in the hall. By the fourth day, Earl Hugh's nightly feasting began to tell on them all-everyone except Bran. Somehow Bran seemed to bear up under the strain of these all-night revels, awaking the next morning none the worse for his excesses. Indeed, Tuck began to think him blessed with the fortitude of Samson himself until he noticed the trick. Friar Tuck-himself an enthusiastic consumer of the earl's good wine and fortifying meat-happened to discover Bran's secret the second night. Bran quaffed as readily as the next man; however, the instant their host's attention wandered elsewhere, quick as a blink Bran's cup dipped below the board and the contents were dashed onto the soiled rushes under their feet. Thereafter, he drank from an empty vessel until it was filled again, and the process was repeated.
From then on, Tuck did the same himself even though it pained him to throw away good drink.
Wolf Hugh himself was ragged and mean of a morning, soreheaded, stinking of stale wine and urine, his eyes red and his nose running as he shuffled from his chambers bellowing for food and drink to drive the demons from head and belly. Still he seemed to possess unusual powers of recovery, and by the time the sun had breached the castle walls, the earl was ready to ride to his hounds once more, steady as a stone and keen for the chase. On the third day, Tuck freely complained that the nightly debauch was too much for him, and begged Bran to let him observe the hunt from the rails of his bed; but Bran insisted that they must go on as they had started. Ifor and Brocmael had youth on their side, and tolerated the revelry, but were increasingly reticent participants. Alan a'Dale fared less well and was laid low of a morning.
On the fourth day, the earl decided to rest the horses and hounds. He had business to attend to with some of his nobles, leaving his guests free to take their ease and amuse themselves as they would. Bran let it be known that he wanted to go into the town and attend the market, and so they did. A hundred paces beyond sight of the castle gate, he gathered his crew around him and said, "You are doing very well, lads. I beg but a little more patience and we are done. We will not abide here much longer."
"How much longer?" asked Alan a'Dale.