"God be good to you, Friar, I might be and, as it happens, I am," replied the young man with a smile. "And who, so long as we're asking, are you to be blessing my horses?"
"I am as you see me," replied Tuck, "a humble friar. Brother Aethelfrith is my name."
"A Saxon, then."
"I am, and that proud of it."
"Now I know you must be a Christian," replied Garran lightly, "for you speak the language of heaven right well. How is that, if you don't mind my asking? For I've never known a Saxon to bother himself overmuch with learning the Cymry tongue."
"That is easily told," answered Tuck, and explained that as a boy in Lincolnshire he had been captured in a raid and sold into slavery in the copper mines of Powys; when he grew old enough and bold enough, he had made good his escape and was received by the monks of Llandewi, where he lived until taking his vows and, some little time later, becoming a mendicant.
The young king nodded, the same amiable smile playing on his lips the while. "Well, I hope they have fed you in the kitchen, friend friar. You are welcome to stay as long as you like-Nefi, here, will give you a corner of the stable for a bed, and I am certain my people will make you feel at home."
"Your generosity does you credit, Sire," Tuck said, "but it is you I have come to see-on a matter of some urgency."
The young man hesitated. He made a dismissive gesture. "Then I commend you to my seneschal. I am certain he will be best able to help." Again, he turned to go, giving Tuck the impression that he was intruding on the busy life of this young monarch.
"If you please, my lord," said Tuck, starting after him, "it is about a friend of yours and mine-and of your sister Merian's."
At this last name, the young king halted and turned around again. "You know my sister?"
"I do, my lord, and that right well, do I not?"
"How do you know her?" The king's tone became wary, suspicious.
"I have lately come from the place where she has been living."
Garran tensed and drew himself up. "Then you must be one of those outlaws of the greenwood we have been hearing about." Before Tuck could reply, he said, "You are no longer welcome here. I suggest you leave before I have you whipped and thrown out."
"So that is the way of it," concluded Tuck.
"I have nothing more to say to you." Garran turned on his heel and started away.
"God love you, man," said Tuck, stepping after him. "It can do no harm to talk-"
"Did you not hear me?" snarled Garran, turning on the little friar. "I can have you beaten and cast out like the filth you are. Get you from my sight, or heaven help me, I will whip you myself."
"Then do so," Tuck replied, squaring himself for a fight. "For I will not leave until I have said what I came here to say."
Garran glared at him, but said, "Go on, then. If it will get your repulsive carcase out of my sight the sooner, speak."
"You seem to think that we harmed Merian in some way," Tuck began. "We did no such thing. Indeed, Merian was not held against her will. She stayed in the greenwood, lived with us in the greenwood, because she believes in the cause that we pursue-the same cause that brings me here to ask your aid."
"What cause?"
"Justice, pure and simple. King William has erred and fomented a great injustice against the rightful lord and people of Elfael, who are most cruelly used and oppressed. A most grievous wrong has been committed, and we seek to put it right. To speak plainly, we mean to drive out the wicked usurpers and reclaim the throne of Elfael. Your sister, Merian, has been helping us do just that. She has been a most ardent and enthusiastic member of our little band. Let us go ask her,"
Tuck suggested, "and you can hear this from her own lips."
Garran was already shaking his head. "You're not going anywhere near her," he said. "Merian is home now-back among her family where she belongs. You will no longer twist her to your treason."
"Twist her?" wondered Tuck. "She has been more than willing. Merian is a leader among the forest folk. She is-"
"Whatever she was to you," sneered Garran, "she is no more. Be gone!"
"Please, you must-"
"Must? Know you, Baron Neufmarche is my liege lord, as William is his. We are loyal to the crown in this house. If you persist in speaking of this, I will report you for treason against the throne of England-as is my sworn duty."
"I beg you, Sire, do not-"
"Daffyd! Awstin!" the king shouted, calling for his men, who appeared on the run from the stables. Thrusting a finger at the friar, he said, "Throw him out and bar the gate behind him. If he does not leave, whip him, and drag him to the border of Eiwas-for I will not suffer him to remain in my sight or on my land another moment."
"I will go, and gladly," Tuck said. "But let me speak to Merian-"
Garran's face clenched like a fist. "Mention her name again and, priest or no, I will cut out your tongue." He gave a nod to the two stablehands, who stepped forward and roughly took hold of Tuck.
The friar was hauled from the yard and pushed out through the gate. "Sorry, Friar," said one as he closed the gate.
"Bless you, friend," replied Tuck with a sigh, "I do not hold it against you." He took a moment to shake the dust from his feet, and then started the long walk back to where Bran and Scarlet were waiting for a better word than he had to give them.
Nor was Bran any better pleased than Tuck imagined he would be. He listened to all that Tuck had to say about what had taken place up at the caer, and then walked a few paces apart and stood looking at the fortress mound in the near distance. He stood there so long that Scarlet eventually approached him and said, "My lord? What is your pleasure?"
When Bran failed to respond, he said, "If we hurry, we can be back in Cel Craidd before dark."
Without turning, Bran replied, "I am not leaving until I have spoken to Merian."
"How?" wondered Tuck. "He will hardly allow any of us inside the caer again."
Bran turned and flashed his crooked smile. "Tuck, old friend, I have been in and out of that fortress without anyone the wiser more times than you've et hot soup." He looked around for a soft spot in the shade. "It's going to be a long night; I suggest we rest until it gets dark."
They tethered the horses so that they might graze among the trees, and then settled back to nap and wait for night and the cover of darkness. The day passed quietly, and night came on. When Bran reckoned that all in the fortress would be in bed asleep, he roused the other two. Tuck rose, yawned, shook out his robe, and clambered back into the saddle, thinking that he would be heartily glad when all this to-ing and fro-ing was over and peace reigned in the land once more. They rode in silence around the base of the hill on which the fortress sat, Bran picking his way with practiced assurance along a path none of the others could see in the darkness. They came to a place below the wall where a small ditch or ravine caused the wall to dip slightly. Here, Bran halted and dismounted. "We are behind the kitchen," he explained. "Merian's chamber used to be just the other side of the wall. Pray it is so now."
"And is this why Lord Cadwgan took such umbrage against you?" wondered Scarlet.
"Now that you mention it," Bran allowed, his grin a white glint in the dark, "that could have had something to do with it-not that any other reason was needed." He started up the steep hillside. "Let's be at it."
Quick and silent as a shadow, Bran was up the slope and over the wall, leaving Scarlet and Tuck to struggle over as best they could. By the time Tuck eased himself over the rough timber palisade and into the yard, Bran was already clinging onto the sill below a small glass window-one of only three in the entire fortress. Bran lightly tapped twice on the small round panes… paused, and tapped three more times.