Tuck kr-3 Page 30

  The women attended Noin, helping her wash and dress little Nia in her best clothes. They combed her hair and plaited flowers in the braids, and laid her on a bed of fresh green rushes. They washed the blood from Angharad's body and dressed her in a clean gown and brought her staff to lay beside her. Bran made a cross for the graves using arrows which he bound together with bowstring. Meanwhile, Tuck moved here and there, comforting his forest flock, giving them such solace as he possessed. He tried to instil some hope in the hearts of the grieving, and show a way to a better day ahead. But his own heart was not in it, and his words sounded hollow even to himself.

  When the graves were ready, Scarlet came and, taking Noin by the hand, said, "It is time, my heart." Noin nodded silently. He knelt and gathered up his daughter and carried her to the new-dug grave; Noin walked beside him, her eyes on the bundle in her husband's arms.

  Iwan and Owain bent to Angharad, but Bran said, "Wait. Bring her Bird Spirit cloak and put it on her. And her staff. We will bury her as befits the last True Bard of Britain."

  Owain fetched the black-feathered cloak and helped Bran wrap it around the old woman, and the two bodies were laid to rest in the soft earth. Iwan brought Angharad's harp to place in the grave, but Bran prevented him. "No," he said, taking the harp. "This I will keep." As he cradled the harp to his shoulder, his mind flashed with the memory of one of their last partings. "All that needs saying have I said," his Wise Banfaith had told him. "Now it is for us to remember."

  He held the harp, and his mind returned to the time of their first meeting-in the old woman's winter cave hidden deep in the forest. There, she had healed his body with her art, and healed his soul with her songs. "A raven you are, and a raven you shall remain-until the day you fulfil your vow," Bran murmured, remembering the words of the old story. He turned his eyes one last time to the face of his friend-a face he had once considered almost unutterably ugly: the wide, downturned mouth and jutting chin; the bulbous nose; the small, keen eyes burning out from a countenance so wrinkled it seemed to be nothing but creases, lines, and folds. Death had not improved her appearance, but Bran had long ago ceased to regard her looks, seeing instead only the bright-burning radiance of a soul alight with wisdom. "She called me a king."

  "My lord?" said Iwan. "Did you say something?"

  "She had never done that before, you see? Not until now."

  Darkness deepened in the greenwood. The Grellon lit pitch torches at the head of each body and began a service for the dead which Tuck led, praying softly through the Psalms and the special prayers for those recently deceased. It was a service he had performed as many times as christenings and weddings combined, and he knew it by heart.

  The mourners held vigil through the night. Bran, Scarlet, and Noin kept watch while others came and went silently, or with a few words of comfort and condolence. Twice in the night, Bran was heard to groan, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs. The tie that had bound him and Angharad together was strong, and it had been cruelly severed, the wound deep and raw.

  Then, at sunrise, the Grellon gathered at the graveside. Tuck said another prayer for the dead and for those who must resume life without them. Noin and Will wept as the dirt was replaced and heaped over the mounds. Bran pressed the small wooden crosses he had made into the graves and then knelt, solemn but dry-eyed, and said a last, silent farewell to the woman who had saved his life. Then, while the rest of the forest-dwellers prepared to abandon Cel Craidd, Tuck went to look in on Tomas. Bran joined him a little later to ask after his injured archer. "My lord," said Tuck softly, "I fear we have lost a good warrior."

  "No…" sighed Bran.

  "His wounds were greater than we knew," the friar explained. "I think he must have died in the night. I am sorry." He looked sadly at the still body beside him. "If my skill had been greater, I might have saved him."

  "And if there had been no battle and he had not been wounded…" Bran shook his head and let the rest go unsaid. He pressed a hand to Tomas's chest and thanked the dead warrior for his good service, and released him to his rest. Then, bidding Tuck to have the body prepared for burial, he rose and went to dig another grave.

  CHAPTER 38

  Caer Rhodl

  When were you going to tell me that Friar Tuck had been here?" asked Merian, her tone deceptively sweet. "Or did you plan to tell me at all, brother mine?"

  "I did not think it any of your concern," answered Garran dismissively. He leaned back in his chair and regarded his sister with suspicion. And then the thought struck him. "But how did you know they had come here?"

  Merian offered Garran a superior smile. "Bran has been a visitor to these halls more often than you know. Did you really think he would leave without seeing me?"

  The king of Eiwas remained unmoved. "You said you wanted to speak to me. I hope it was not merely to berate me. If so, you are wasting your breath."

  "I did not come to berate you, but to tell you that there is no need to keep me locked up. I will not try to escape, or leave Caer Rhodl without your permission and blessing."

  "Coming to your senses at last, dear sister?" intoned Garran. "May I ask what has brought about this change of heart?"

  "I have come to see that there is no point in leaving here without you and your war band to accompany me." Garran opened his mouth to reject that possibility outright, but Merian did not give him the chance. "Bran and his people are fighting for their lives in Elfael. We must help them. We must ride at once-"

  Garran held up his hand. "We have had this discussion before," he said, "and I have not changed my mind. Even if I was so inclined to raise the war band for them, the time for that is past, I fear."

  "Past?" inquired Merian. "Why past?"

  "King William has raised his entire army and now occupies Elfael himself. It is said he has more than a thousand knights and men-at-arms encamped in the valley."

  "What of Bran and his people? Is there any word?"

  "Only that they fight on-foolishly, it seems to me, since no one has come to their aid."

  "Then that is all the more reason to raise the war band," Merian insisted. Clasping her hands before her, she stepped nearer her recalcitrant brother. "You must see that, Garran. We have to help them."

  "Ride against King William and his army?" laughed Garran. "There is no force in all Britain that could defeat him now."

  There came a knock on the door of the king's chamber, and Luc, the king's seneschal, entered. "Forgive me, Sire, but Baron Neufmarche has come and would see you most urgently. He says-"

  Before the servant could finish, Baron Bernard himself pushed past him and stepped into the room. One glance at Merian brought him up short. He stared at her as if at a ghost, then collected himself. "I see I am intruding," he said. "I am sorry. I will come back in-"

  "Pray, do not leave, Baron," said Garran. Merian noticed her brother's French had become quite fluent-as had her own since returning to Caer Rhodl. "Stay. This concerns you, too, I think. Merian here is urging us to raise an army and ride to the defence of Elfael. She thinks we should take arms against the king of England's forces for the sake of Bran ap Brychan and his pitiful band of rebels."

  The baron raised his eyebrows, but did not condemn the notion. "Does she indeed?" he said, stepping farther into the room. "I would like to hear her reasons." He made a stiffly formal bow to the young woman. "Please, speak freely, my lady. I assure you no harm will come of it."

  Garran was quick to protest. "With all respect, Baron, my sister's fancies cannot be seriously entertained."

  "Fancies!" snapped Merian.

  "Please," replied Neufmarche. He appealed to Merian. "If you would kindly explain, I would like to hear your reasons."

  Fearing some kind of trap was being laid for her, she replied, "Baron, you have the advantage here. Sending our war band to aid Bran against the king is treason, and if I were to argue such a course before one of the king's noblemen, it would be to my death-if such a thing were to be reported. In any event, a
iding Elfael would go against your own interests, and I cannot think you, or anyone else, would willingly choose such a course."

  "Exactly!" crowed Garran.

  "Do not be so hasty," cautioned the baron. "As it happens, aiding Elfael may sit with my interests very nicely."

  Garran stared at his father-in-law and patron, momentarily lost for words.

  "Does this surprise you?" wondered the baron. "So long as we are speaking freely, the king is not always right, you know. William Rufus is not the man his father was. He makes mistakes. One of his early mistakes was to cross the Neufmarches-but that is not at issue here."

  He began pacing before the young king's chair, to Merian's mind the very image of a man wrestling with an intractable problem. She watched him, hardly daring to hope that something good might come from what he was about to say.

  "It comes to this-the king has ordered me to attend him and support him in this war against the rebel cantref. To aid the king is to undo all I have worked for in Wales for the last ten years or more. This I will not do-especially since my own grandchildren, when they arrive, will be Welsh. And yet"-he raised a finger-"to fail to respond to a royal summons is considered treason, and my life and lands are forfeit if I do not ride to the aid of the king."

  The baron regarded Merian as he concluded. "The king has left me with a very difficult choice, but a clear one."

  Garran did not see it, but Merian did.

  "Which would be?" asked the young king.

  "You know it, my lady," said Neufmarche, holding her in his gaze. "I suspect you've known it for some time."

  Merian nodded. "You must march against the king."

  "Surely not," complained Garran. "We cannot hope to achieve anything against William and all his men."

  "Perhaps not," replied Bernard, "but that is my-that is our-only choice. If we hope to hold onto what we have, we must defeat the king-or at least hold him off until peace can be reached."

  "A peace," volunteered Merian, "that will include justice for Elfael and pardon for all those who have fought for what is right."

  "Amnistie royale, oui," replied the baron.

  "But we risk everything," Garran pointed out.

  "Our only hope of keeping what we have is to risk it all," agreed Neufmarche.

  Garran fell silent, contemplating the enormous jolt his life and reign as king had just taken.

  "And that, I suspect," continued the baron after a moment, "is why the Welsh noblemen have come."

  "Cymry noblemen?" said Merian. "Here?"

  "Mais, oui," Neufmarche assured her, "it is the reason I intruded just now. A number of Welsh noblemen have arrived, and are seeking audience with the king. I asked Luc to bid them wait a little because I wanted to speak with my son-in-law first." He smiled. "So, you see, c'est fortuit."

  "Non," corrected Merian, "l'est la providence." She turned to her brother, freshening her appeal in Welsh. "Don't you see, Garran? Riding to the aid of Elfael is the only way. And with the baron's help we cannot fail."

  The young king was far from convinced, but as client to the baron, he knew he must do whatever his overlord commanded. Still, he sought to put off his consent a little longer. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before going any further, we should see who has come, and hear what they have to say."

  "They have been brought to the hall," said Baron Bernard, "and the serving maids instructed to give them refreshment." He held out his arm to Merian who, after a slight hesitation, took it. Garran went ahead of them, and the baron followed with Merian on his arm. As soon as Garran had left the room, the baron turned to her and whispered, "Lady Merian," he said, "hear me-we have not much time. I do most humbly beg your pardon, for I have not always had your best interest at heart. I pray your forgiveness, my lady, and vow that in the days ahead I will make every effort to find a way to make up for my past mistakes."

  "You are forgiven, my lord baron," replied Merian nicely. "What is more, your determination to aid Bran and Elfael absolves a great many trespasses. I pray now that we are not too late."

  "So pray we all," replied the baron.

  They followed King Garran and his seneschal into the hall, where they found the benches full of strangers. Some of the king's men had already gathered to host the visitors, and all rose to their feet when the young king appeared.

  "My lord king," said one of the visitors, stepping forward at once, "in the name of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, I give you good greeting. I am Lord Llewelyn of Aberffraw at your service." He gave a small bow of deference. "I present to you, my lord, King Gruffydd of Gwynedd"-a tall, lean man stepped forward-"and with him, my lord, King Dafydd ap Owain, lord of Snowdon"-a stern-faced battle chief stepped forward and, putting a hand to the hilt of his sword, gave a nod of his head-"and Iestyn ap Gwrgan, king of Gwent." The last of the great Welsh noblemen stepped forward and made his obeisance to the young king.

  "Peace, and welcome to you all," said Garran, deeply impressed that such renowned men should have come to beg audience with him. "You honour me with your presence, my lords. Please, be seated again, and fill the cups. I am eager to hear what has brought you to Eiwas and to my hall."

  "Lord Garran, if it please you," said the lanky nobleman called Gruffydd, "I speak for all of us when I say that we are grateful for your friendship and would like nothing more than to sit with you and drink your health and that of your people." His eyes shifted to the baron and he hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Unfortunately, we cannot partake of that estimable luxury. Time presses. Do not think me rude, therefore, if I decline your hospitality. We are passing through your lands on our way to Elfael."

  "Elfael," remarked Garran with a glance at his sister, who was quietly translating for Baron Neufmarche. "It does seem to be a busy place of late."

  "I will be brief," said Gruffydd. "We go to join forces with Bran ap Brychan to aid him in his fight to reclaim the throne of Elfael from the Ffreinc. As God is my witness, Lord Bran has done me a very great service which I can never hope to repay in full. But I go to do what I can. Moreover, it has been borne upon me with some considerable force"-here he glanced at Lord Llewelyn-"that if any of us would be free in our own land, we must all be free. To that end, I have persuaded these lords to join me." He put out a hand to his august companions and their commanders, who filled the benches at the board. He stepped before Garran to address him more directly. "I would persuade you, too, my lord." He regarded the young king steadily. "Join us, Rhi Garran. Help us right a great wrong and win justice for Elfael, and all who call Cymru home, against the Ffreinc and their overreaching king."

  One of the lords stepped near to Gruffydd just then and whispered something in his ear. The king of Gwynedd squared himself, turned, and gazed boldly at the baron. "It seems I have spoken too freely," Gruffydd said. "I am informed that we have a Ffreinc baron among us. Had I known that he was here-"

  "Truly," said Garran, "there is no harm done." He turned and beckoned the baron and his sister nearer. "My lords, I present Baron Neufmarche, my liege lord, and with him, my sister Lady Merian."

  "My lord baron," said Gruffydd in stiff acknowledgement of Neufmarche. His hand went to the sword at his side and stayed there.

  "As the baron is my overlord," Garran continued, "it is well that he has heard your intentions for himself."

  "How so?" said Gruffydd suspiciously.

  "For the fact that this was the very course he himself was urging only moments before we joined you here."

  "Mes seigneurs et mes rois," said the baron. "C'est vrai." Merian translated for the Welsh kings, and explained that the baron had defied Red William's summons and had come to Eiwas instead, and that he and Garran had just been discussing the need to aid the rebels of Elfael in their struggle against the crown. After a quick consultation with Bernard, she concluded, "Baron Neufmarche wishes you to know that he stands willing to pledge his men to the aid of Elfael, and asks only to be taken at his word."

  This provoked a hasty and heated discussi
on among the Welsh noblemen. Merian watched as the debate seemed to roll back and forth. It was swiftly over, and the Welsh lords turned to face the baron with their answer. Gruffydd said, "We have argued your offer, Lord Baron, and it is most unexpected, to be sure-but no less welcome for that. We will accept your pledge and thank you for it."

  The baron expressed his gratitude to the Welsh kings for placing their trust in him, and then, through Merian, asked, "How soon can you be ready to march?"

  "We are already on the march," replied Gruffydd. "Our men are on their way to Elfael even now."

  "Then," replied the baron, when he had received Gruffydd's answer, "we must make haste to overtake them. Among my people, it is counted a very great shame for a commander to lead from the rear."

  CHAPTER 39

  Rhoddi scrambled through the upper branches of the greenwood canopy, skittering along the hidden path of the sky way, to drop deftly into the little clearing where the Grellon had set up camp after abandoning Cel Craidd the day before. He searched among the sleeping bodies huddled in their cloaks on the ground for the one he sought, and hastened to kneel beside it. "Bran!" he said, leaning close. "Owain says to come at once."

  Bran sat up. It was early still, the feeble grey light barely penetrating the heavy foliage of oak and elm round about. Reaching instinctively for his bow, he rose to his feet. "Trouble?"

  Rhoddi shook his head. "There's something moving on the King's Road," he said quietly, "something you should see."

  "Will," called Bran softly, rousing the forester, "begin waking the others and get everyone ready to move. I'll send word back." To Rhoddi, he said, "Lead the way."

  The two climbed up the rope ladder onto the interconnected arrangement of limbs and boughs, planks and platforms that the Grellon maintained to move easily and quickly to and from the King's Road overlook. A swift and precarious dash brought them to the place where Owain was perched high up among the rocks on the bank of the cliff overlooking the road. "What is it?" asked Bran, climbing up beside him. "More troops?"