"Here!" whispered Tuck. "This way-to your right."
"Get ready," said the voice. It was Siarles kneeling atop the wall. "We'll send over the grain sacks first. Ready?"
"I'm the only one here," Tuck told him.
"Where is everyone?"
"They're here," came the reply as Rhoddi appeared silent as a ghost out of the darkness. To his unseen companions, he said, "Owain, line 'em up behind me. Keep out of the way, and stay alert."
"How many are with you?" Siarles called down softly.
"Ten," answered Owain "We're ready, so heave away."
A moment later another figure joined Siarles on the wall. There was a dry scraping sound followed by a thick thud as the first sack hit the ground at the base of the wall. Three more followed in quick succession. "Get 'em up," whispered Siarles.
Fumbling in the darkness, the Cymry from the surrounding settlements jostled the bulging sacks of grain onto the shoulders of three of their number, who disappeared into the darkness. "Ready," Rhoddi called quietly.
There followed a pause, and then, without warning, a large, weighty object thudded to the ground. "What was that?" wondered Tuck, mostly to himself. Four more objects were sent over the wall in quick succession, followed by numerous smaller bundles dropped over the wall to form a growing heap on the ground.
"Clear it out," whispered Siarles.
"You heard him, men," said Owain. Again, the waiting Cymry leapt forward and fell upon the bundles, sacks, and casks that had been tossed over the wall. The process was repeated two more times, and each time there were fewer Cymry left to carry the supplies away. Finally, Siarles reappeared atop the wall and said, "There's people stirring in the abbey. I'm coming over." Squatting down, he turned, grabbed an edge, and lowered himself lengthwise down the face of the wall.
"The others are clean away," Tuck told him. "I've got the horses ready."
"We best stir ourselves and get this lot loaded, too," Siarles said. "Bring 'em up, and let's have at it."
The two of them began piling the goods onto the carriers attached to the saddles of the horses. One by one, the remaining raiders joined Tuck and Siarles outside the wall; Bran and Iwan were the last, and all made short work of toting the bundles and casks to the waiting horses. The back-and-forth continued until from somewhere beyond the wall a bell sounded and the raiders halted. The bell tolled three times. "It's Lauds," said Tuck. "They'll be going to the chapel for prayer."
"That's it, lads," said Bran. "Time to fly." He glanced away towards the east, where a dull glow could be seen above the dark line of treetops. "Look, now! It's beginning to get light, and all this thieving has made me hungry."
"Luckily, there's ale for our troubles," Scarlet said, picking up a cask and shaking it so it sloshed. "And wine, too, if I'm not mistaken."
The last of the goods were packed and tied into place, and as each horse was ready one of the riders led it away. Bran and Tuck were last to leave, following the others across the broad black expanse of the bean field to the forest edge, where they met with the Cymry who had helped; and a rough division of the spoils was made then and there. "Spread it around to those who need it most," Bran told them. "But mind to keep it well hid in case any of the Ffreinc come sniffing around after it."
The rest of the way back to the forest was a long, slow amble through the night-dark vale and up the rise into the greenwood. They moved with the mist along cool forest pathways and arrived back at Cel Craidd as the sun broke fair on another sparkling, crisp autumn day-but a day that Abbot Hugo would remember as dismal indeed, the day his troubles began in earnest.
CHAPTER 25
King Raven visited the abbey stores again the next night, despite the watch the sheriff and abbot had placed on the gate and storehouse. This time, however, instead of carrying off the supplies, the black-hooded creature destroyed them. Iwan and Tuck rode with him to the edge of the forest and, as they had done the previous night, waited for night to deepen the darkness. The moon would rise late, but it would be only a pale sliver in the sky. In any event, Bran planned to be back in the forest before his trail could be followed.
When he judged the time was right, he donned his feathered cloak and the high-crested beak mask, and climbed into the saddle. "I could go with you," Iwan said.
"There's no need," Bran demurred. "And it will be easier to elude them on my own."
"We'll wait for you here, then," replied the champion. He handed Bran his bow and six black arrows, three of which had been specially prepared.
"Go with God," Tuck said, and passed Bran the chain from which was suspended a small iron canister-a covered dish of coals. "Oh, it's a sorry waste," he sighed as Bran rode away. His dark form was swiftly swallowed by the darkness.
"Aye," agreed Iwan, "but needful. Taking food from the mouth of an enemy is almost as good as eating it yourself."
Tuck considered this for a moment. "No," he decided, "it is not."
The two settled back to watch and wait. They listened to the night sounds of the forest and the easy rustling of the leaves in the upper boughs of the trees as the breeze came up. Tuck was nodding off to sleep when Iwan said, "There he is."
Tuck came awake with a start at the sound. He looked around, but saw nothing. "Where?"
"Just there," said Iwan, stretching out his hand towards the darkness, "low to the ground and a little to your left."
Tuck looked where Iwan indicated and saw a tiny yellow glow moving along the ground. Then, even as he watched, the glow floated up into the air, where it hung for a moment.
"He's on the wall," said Iwan.
The glowing spark seemed to brighten and burst into flame. In the same instant the flame flared and disappeared and all was darkness again.
They waited.
In a moment, the glow fluttered to life once more in midair. It flared to life and disappeared just as quickly.
"That's two," said Iwan. "One more."
They waited.
This time the glow did not reappear at once. When it did, it was some distance farther along the wall. As before, the faint firefly glow brightened, then flared to brilliant life and disappeared in a smear of sparks and fire. Darkness reclaimed the night, and they waited. A long moment passed, then another, and they heard the hoofbeats of a swiftly approaching horse, and at almost the same time a line of light appeared low in the sky. The light grew in intensity until they could see the form of a dark rider galloping toward them. All at once, the light bloomed in the sky, erupting in a shower of orange and red flames.
"To your horses," shouted Bran as he came pounding up. "They'll be wanting our heads for this. I fired the storehouse and granary both."
"Did anyone see you?" wondered Iwan as he swung up into the saddle.
"It's possible," Bran said. "But they'll have their hands full for a little while, at least."
"Tsk," clucked Tuck with mild disapproval. "Such a sad waste."
"But necessary," offered Iwan. "Anything that weakens them, helps us."
"And anything that helps us, helps Elfael and its people," concluded Bran. "It was necessary."
"A holy waste, then," replied Tuck. He raised himself to a fallen limb and squirmed into the saddle. By the time he had the reins in his fist, his companions were already riding along the edge of the field up the long rising slope towards Coed Cadw, a dark mass rising like a wall against a sky alive with stars.