The handler shoved the bundle against the dog's muzzle to renew the scent, and the hound began circling the tree to raise the trail. Once, and again, and then three more times-but each time the beast stopped in the place where the clothes had lain, confusing himself the more and frustrating his handler.
"We must raise another scent, my lord," reported the handler at last. "This trail is tainted."
"Tainted!" growled Hugh. "The man shed his clothes is all. Give the hound his head and he will yet raise the trail."
The handler loosed the hound from the leash and urged it to search a wider area around the tree. This time the dutiful hound came to stand before Count Rexindo, who gazed placidly down from his saddle as the dog bayed at him. "Lontano!" said the count, waving the dog away.
The handler pulled the animal off, but time and again, the fuddled dog ran between the heap of clothing on the ground and Count Rexindo on his horse. Finally, the handler picked up some of the rags and gave them a sniff himself. Then, approaching the earl, he handed up the rags. "There is some mischief here, Sire," he said. "As you will see."
The earl gave the scraps a sniff and straightened in the saddle. "What?" He sniffed again. "What is that?"
"Lavender, methinks," replied the handler. "Tainted, as I said."
The earl looked around suspiciously. "How in the devil's name…?"
Count Rexindo, impatient and keen to be off, spoke up, and Alan offered, "The count says that clearly the dog is useless. Our prey cannot be far away. He suggests we spread out and raise the trail ourselves."
"Yes, yes," replied Earl Hugh. "You heard him, eh?" he said to the Ffreinc noblemen. "Go to it-and give a shout when you find the trail."
So all scattered, each a separate way. The count led the search farther down the run, and several of the Ffreinc followed that way. Bishop Balthus led lords Galindo and Ramiero to the opposite side of the run and began searching there-all of them knowing full well that Gruffydd would not be found.
CHAPTER 20
Caer Rhodl
Merian's fingernails dug deep grooves in her palm, and she fought to control the rage she felt roiling inside her. She did not expect the ladies Neufmarche to understand, much less accept the least part of what she had to tell them. They would refuse to listen, call her liar, heap scorn upon her. So be it.
Her mother and brother, however, could be counted on to support her. Once she had explained what had happened the day she was abducted-as well as all that had happened since-she knew they would rally to her aid without question. She drew a calming breath and organized her thoughts, deciding how she would relate the events of the past two years in the greenwood. Then, raising her head, she squared her shoulders and put her hand to the latch. She pushed open the door to the hall and stepped inside. They were all assembled to hear her: Lady Agnes beside her daughter, Queen Sybil, and in the next seat, her brother, Garran; beside him sat her mother, the dowager Queen Anora. The two Ffreinc women sat erect, grim-faced, clearly unhappy; they had heard the accusations Merian had laid at their feet. Her brother, the king, appeared no happier; drawn and somewhat haggard, he was torn between his own family and that of his new bride. Only her mother looked at all sympathetic, offering her a sad smile, and saying, "Do come along, Merian. We have been waiting for you."
"Pray forgive me," she said, moving farther into the room. She saw there was no chair for herself. Very well, she would stand; it was better this way. Taking her place before them, she folded her hands and glanced at each in turn. "I see you have been discussing the problem of Merian already."
"You're not a problem to be solved, my dear," her mother replied. "But we thought it wise to talk a little among ourselves before seeing you again. You will appreciate how awkward-"
"Some of the things you have said," said Lady Agnes. "These allegations-"
"If it please you, my lady," interrupted Garran, "we will yet come to that. First," he declared, turning to face his sister, "I want you to know that these are grave charges you have made, and we are taking them very seriously."
"Naturally," replied Merian, feeling more and more like a criminal with each passing moment. She rankled against the feeling. "Be assured, Brother, I would not have declared them if they were not true."
"We do not doubt you, Merian," her mother put in quickly. "But you must see how difficult this has become-"
"Difficult?" Merian snapped, her voice instantly sharp. "Mother, you have no idea. Living in the greenwood with the dispossessed who have been driven from their homes and lands, whose hands have been cut off or eyes gouged out for petty offences and imaginary crimes, is difficult. Living in a hovel made of sticks and mud and covered with animal skins in deep forest where the sun cannot penetrate and stifling every stray sound for fear of discovery is difficult. Creeping place to place, careful to stay out of sight lest the Ffreinc soldiers see you is difficult. Hiding day on day from a sheriff who slaughters any unfortunate who happens to cross his path-that is difficult. Grubbing in the dirt for roots and berries to feed-"
"Enough, Merian!" snapped her brother, his tone matching hers. "We know you've suffered, but you are home now and safe. There is no one in this room who wishes you harm. Mind your tongue and we will all fare the better for it."
"Your brother is right, mon cher," said Agnes Neufmarche, controlling her tone. Her Welsh was fair, if simple; that she was able to speak it at all Merian considered a revelation. "We are your family now. We seek nothing but your good."
"How kind," Merian retorted. "And was it for my good that your husband the baron pursued me and tried to kill me?"
"Of course, you have endured the ordeal terrible," Agnes granted loftily. "Yet, knowing my husband as I do, I cannot… accepter?…accept this as the truth."
Merian stiffened. She had been expecting this. "You would call me liar?"
"Jamais!" said the baroness. "I suggest only that perhaps in your fear you mistook the baron's, ah… l'action as the assaut…"
She glanced to her daughter, who supplied the proper word. "As an attack," said Sybil.
"Is that what you think?" challenged Merian. "You were there that day, Sybil. You saw what happened. Is that what you think? Bran was forced to flee for his life. He took me with him, yes-at first I thought he meant to abduct me for ransom, but it was to save me. He saw the danger I was in before I did, and he acted. When the baron discovered our escape he sent men to kill us both."
"Very well!" said Garran irritably. "Granting what you say is true, what can be done about it now?" He stared at his sister, his lips bent in a frown of deep dissatisfaction. "It's been two years, Merian. Things have changed. What do you want me to do?"
There it was: the question she had been anticipating, her sole reason for coming. "I want," she replied, taking time to choose her words carefully, "I want you to join with us. I want you to raise a war band and come help us recover Elfael."
"Us?" wondered Garran. It was not a response Merian had anticipated. "Have you lived so long among the outlaws that you no longer know where your true loyalties lie?"
"My loyalties?" She blinked at him in confusion. "I don't understand."
"What your brother is saying," offered Anora, "is that the affairs of Elfael are nothing to do with us. You are safe now. You are home. What is past is past."
"But the fate of Elfael is my worry, Mother-as it is for all Cymry who would live free in their own country." She turned to her brother, the king, and his nervous young queen beside him. "That is where my loyalties lie, Brother-and where yours should lie too. Unless that bit of French fluff beside you has addled your mind, you would know this."