"You've stolen the earl's hounds," Brocmael said, amazed at Bran's audacity-considering the high price Wolf Hugh set on his prize animals.
"Hounds?" said Ifor. "We've stolen a whole ship entire!"
"The ship will be returned," Bran told them, still patting the nearest dog. "But the hounds we keep-they'll help us to remember our pleasant days hunting with the earl. Anyway, we've left him our horses-a fair enough trade, I reckon."
"Does anyone know how to sail a ship of this size?" wondered Alan.
"Maybe the lads there can help us," Tuck said, regarding the boys-who were thoroughly amazed at what had taken place and were enjoying it in spite of themselves. "Maybe they know how to sail it."
"We don't have to sail it," Bran countered. "We'll let the tideflow carry us downriver as far as the next settlement and try to pick up a pilot there. Until then, Ifor, you and your two young friends will man the tiller and see you keep us in the stream flow and off the bank. Can you do that?"
"I've seen it done," replied the young man.
"Then take us home," said Bran. Ifor called the two young crewmen to him and, with an assortment of signs and gestures, showed them what they were to do. Bran crossed to where Gruffydd was sitting against the side of the ship, knees up and his head resting on his arms.
"Are you well, my lord?" Bran said, squatting down beside him.
"My blasted head hurts," he complained. "Did you have to hit me so hard?"
"Perhaps not," Bran allowed. "But then, you did not give us much choice."
The king offered a grunt of derision and lowered his head once more. "You will feel better soon," Bran told him, rising once more. "And when we cross over into Wales you'll begin to see things in a better light."
Gruffydd made no reply, so Bran left him alone to nurse his aching head. Meanwhile, Tuck and Brocmael had begun searching the hold of the ship to see what it carried by way of provisions. "We have cheese, dried meat, and a little ale."
"We'll pick up more when we stop. Until then, fill the cups, Tuck! I feel a thirst coming on."
PART FOUR
"O cowardly dastard!" Will Scadlocke exclaim'd.
"Thou faint-hearted, sow-mothered reeve!
If ever my master doth deign thee to meet,
Thou shalt thy full paiment receive!"
Then Rhiban Hud, setting his horn to his mouth,
A blast he merrily blows;
His yeomen from bushes and treetops appeared,
A hundred, with trusty longbows.
And Little John came at the head of them all,
Cloath'd in a rich mantle, green;
And likewise the others were fancif 'ly drest,
A wonderous sight to be seen.
Forth from the greenwoode about they are come,
With hearts that are firm and e'er stout,
Pledging them all with the sheriff 's yeomen
To give them a full hearty bout.
And Rhiban the Hud has removed his cloak,
And the sheriff has uttered an oath,
And William now smites him on top of his pate and swift exit is now made by both.
"Little I thought," quod Scadlocke eft-soon,
"When I first came to this place,
For to have met with dear Little John,
Or again see my master's fine face."
CHAPTER 23
It is a grand day, my lord Bran," Llewelyn proclaimed, grinning blearily through a haze of brown ale. "A grand and glorious day. Though it shames me to admit it, I never hoped to see our Gruffydd on his throne again. No, I never did. Yet, here he is-all thanks to you. Here he is."
Two days of riotous celebration had followed the rescuers' triumphant return to Aberffraw with their newly freed captive. King Gruffydd's homecoming was heralded as a miracle on the order of Lazarus walking out of his tomb; and Bran, Tuck, Ifor, Brocmael, and Alan were lauded as champions and made to recount their exploits time and again to rapturous listeners until they grew hoarse for speaking. The revel was entering its third day before Bran and Tuck finally found the opportunity to speak to Gruffydd and Llewelyn in private.
"Here are men after my own heart!" declared Gruffydd, closing the door on the celebration to join them in his chamber. Bathed and shaved, his matted, moth-eaten locks shorn to his scalp, arrayed in a new wool cloak and fine red linen shirt, the king of the Northern Cymry finally resembled something worthy of the name. "You should have seen them, Llewelyn," he bellowed. "They were mighty giants doing battle for me. It's true!" Swaying unsteadily, he draped an arm across Bran's shoulders. "I am forever in your debt, my friend. Hear me, Bran ap Brychan, may God blind me if I should ever forget."
"That would be most uncomfortable for you," allowed Bran with a smile, "but, never fear. I have a way to help you."
"Then speak it out, man, and see how quickly it is accomplished," said Gruffydd. Reeling slightly, he looked around for his cup, saw one in Llewelyn's hand, and took it.
Bran hesitated, uncertain whether to take advantage of the king's ale-induced generosity or wait until Gruffydd was sober once more-which might mean a wait of several more days.
"Speak, man, and if it is in my power to grant, you shall have it before the sun has set on another day," boasted Gruffydd. He drained the cup and wiped the foam from his moustache. "What will you have?"
"Your friendship," said Bran.
"That you have in abundance already," replied Gruffydd grandly. He waved his hand airily.
"What else?" prompted Llewelyn, well aware of Bran's true desire.
Bran looked to Tuck, who urged him with a glance to ask for the help he had come north to seek. "As I have aided the return of your king to his lands and people," replied Bran, speaking slowly and deliberately, "I ask the king's pledge to aid me in the return of my lands and people."
A shadow passed over Gruffydd's square face just then. The smile remained firmly fixed, but his eyes narrowed. "Then receive my pledge," Gruffydd said. "How can I help you?"
"With men and weapons," Bran said. "Raise the tribes of Gwynedd and the north and ride with me. Together we can wrest Elfael from the Ffreinc and drive them from our lands."
Gruffydd frowned. He looked into the empty cup as if it had offended him, then thrust it back at Llewelyn. "If that lay within my power," he said, his voice falling, "you would have it this very night. Alas, I cannot grant such a request."
Bran's face tightened. Staring at the king, he said, "You will not help?"
"I cannot," replied Gruffydd, who seemed to have sobered in the matter of a moment. "You must understand," he continued, half turning away, "I have been absent from my realm eight years! For eight years my people have been without a king-"
"They've had Llewelyn," Bran pointed out.
"True enough," granted Gruffydd, "and I am the first to say he has served faithfully and well. But you and I both know that it is not the same thing at all."
"Then you will not help me," Bran said, his voice tight.
"I wish you had asked anything but that," the king replied. "My first duty is to my people and my realm. I cannot resume my reign by running off again as soon as I am home. Much less can I mark my return by forcing my people into a war that does not concern them. If you were in my place, you would see that."
"My friends and I risked all to save you-"
"And for that you have my friendship and gratitude to my dying breath," Lord Gruffydd replied.
"It is not your gratitude I want," Bran said, his tone taking on an edge. "It is your aid in arms."
"That," said Gruffydd carelessly, "is the one thing you cannot have."
Bran made to step closer. Gruffydd held his ground.