Tuck kr-3

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  "Aye," replied Owain, "it is more troops, Sire. But there is something odd about these ones." He pointed down the road to where a column of knights was just coming into view. "A scouting party passed just a little while ago. I think this is the main body just coming now."

  "Ffreinc, yes," said Bran. "I see them. What is so odd about them?"

  "The scouts were Cymry," said Owain.

  "Cymry!" said Bran. "Are you sure?"

  "As sure as I can be. They were Welsh-born, I swear on Job's bones-and all of them carried longbows same as us."

  "Not good," muttered Bran. "Our own countrymen going to join King William-not good at all." Before his companion could offer a reply, Bran grabbed his arm. "Look!" He pointed down to the second rank of mounted soldiers riding behind a double row of men-at-arms on foot. "I know that man-I know his standard… Saints in heaven!"

  "Who is it?"

  "Wait…" said Bran, straining forward. "Let them come a little closer…" He slapped the rock with his hand. "Yes!"

  "Do you recognize someone, my lord?"

  "It is Baron Neufmarche-or I am the archbishop of Canterbury," said Bran, still squinting down into the road, "and, God help us, that is Merian beside him."

  "Are you sure?"

  Bran squirmed around on the rock and called down to Rhoddi waiting below. "Go get Scarlet! Tell him to bring every man who can draw a bow. Tell him I want them to be ready to fight when they get here. We'll have to take them on the fly. Hurry, man! Go!"

  In the road below, the soldiers came on, slowing as they neared the place where the road narrowed beneath the overhanging rocks. "Do you think they know we're here?" wondered Owain.

  "Perhaps," replied Bran, withdrawing an arrow from the bundle and nocking it to the string. "Come closer, proud baron," he whispered, pressing the belly of the bow forward. "Just a little closer and you're mine."

  But when the riders resumed their march, it was not Neufmarche who advanced-it was Merian, and another, riding beside her. The two advanced together.

  "Who is that with her?" said Owain.

  Bran stared hard at the mounted warrior beside Merian.

  After a moment, Owain observed, "He doesn't look like a Ffreinc."

  "He isn't," concluded Bran. "He is Cymry."

  "Do you know him?"

  Bran lowered the bow and eased the string. "That is Gruffydd, Lord of Gwynedd. Though what he is doing here in the company of Baron Neufmarche is a very mystery."

  "Maybe Neufmarche has taken them captive," suggested Owain.

  By way of reply, Bran drew and loosed an arrow into the road. It struck the dirt a few paces ahead of the two oncoming riders. Merian reined up. She lifted her face to the rock walls rising to either side of the road and then, placing a hand to her mouth, called, "Rhi Bran! Are you here?" She waited a moment, then said, "Bran if you are here, show yourself. We have come to talk to you."

  Owain and Bran exchanged a puzzled glance. Bran moved to rise, but Owain put a hand on his arm. "Don't do it, my lord. It might be a trick."

  "From anyone but Merian," replied Bran. "I will talk to them-keep an arrow on the string just in case."

  Bran stood on the rock. He lofted the bow and called down to the riders in the road. "Here I am."

  "Bran!" cried Merian. "Thank God-"

  "Are you well, Merian? Have they hurt you?"

  "I am well, Bran," she called, beaming up at him. "I have brought help." She twisted in the saddle and indicated the ordered ranks of troops behind her. "We have come to help you."

  "And Neufmarche," said Bran. "What is he doing here?"

  "He has joined us," said Gruffydd, speaking up. "Greetings, Rhi Bran."

  "Greetings, Gruffydd. I never thought to see you again."

  "For that I am full sorry," replied the lord of Gwynedd. "But I beg the chance to make it up to you. I have brought friends-and, yes, Baron Neufmarche is one of them."

  "You will forgive me if I am not wholly persuaded," remarked Bran.

  "Could you come down, do you think?" asked Gruffydd. "I grow hoarse and stiff-necked shouting up at you like this."

  Slinging his bow across his chest, Bran prepared to meet them on the road. "Keep an eye on them," he said to Owain. "When Scarlet and the others get here, position the men on the rocks there and there"-he pointed along the rocky outcropping-"and tell them to be ready to let fly if things are not what they seem."

  "God with you, my lord," said Owain, putting an arrow on the string. "We'll wait for your signal."

  Bran lowered himself quickly down the rocks, dropping from ledge to ledge and lighting on the edge of the road a hundred paces or so from where Merian and Gruffydd were waiting. Behind them stood the ranks of the baron's knights and men-at-arms, and Bran was relieved to see that none of them had moved and seemed content merely to stand looking on. Unslinging his bow, he put an arrow on the string and advanced cautiously, keeping an eye on the troops for any sign of movement.

  He had walked but a few dozen paces when Merian spurred her horse forward and galloped to him, throwing herself from the saddle and into his embrace. Her mouth found his, and she kissed him hard and with all the pent-up passion of their weeks apart. "Oh, Bran, I have missed you. I'm sorry I could not come sooner."

  "Merian, I-"

  "But, look!" she said, kissing him again. "I've brought an army." She flung out a hand to those behind her. "They've come to help save Elfael."

  "Truly," replied Bran, still not entirely trusting this turn of fortune. "How many are with you?"

  "I don't know-over five hundred, I think. Baron Neufmarche has come in on our side, and Rhi Gruffydd is here, and Garran and-"

  "Votre dame est la plus persuasif," said Neufmarche, reining up just then. King Garran rode beside him.

  "It is true," said Garran. "My sister can be very persuasive. She would not rest until we agreed to come help you."

  King Gruffydd rode up and took his place beside the baron. Seeing Gruffydd and Neufmarche side by side seemed so unnatural, Bran could hardly credit what he saw, and his native suspicion returned full force. Instinctively, he stepped in front of Merian.

  "That is close enough, Baron," said Bran, raising his bow.

  "Aros, Rhi Bran," said Gruffydd. "You are among friends-more than you know. The baron has pledged his forces to your aid." Indicating the troops amassed behind him with a wide sweep of his hand, he said, "We have come to confront King William and his army, and would be much obliged if you would lead us to them."

  "If you have truly come to fight the Ffreinc," said Bran, "you will not go home disappointed. I can show you all you care to see."

  King Gruffydd climbed slowly down from the saddle. He walked to where Bran stood and then, in full sight of everyone there, went down on one knee before him. "My lord and friend," he said, bending his head, "I pledge my life to you and to this cause. My men and I will see you on the throne of Elfael, or gladly embrace our graves. One or the other will prevail before we relinquish the fight. This is my vow." Drawing his sword, he laid it at Bran's feet. "From this day, my sword is yours to command."

  "Rise, my lord, I-" began Bran, but his throat closed over the words, and overcome with a sudden, heady swirl of emotions, he found he could not speak. In all that had happened in the last days and weeks, he had never foreseen anything like this: the help he had so long and so desperately needed had come at last, and the realization of what it meant fair whelmed him over.

  Gruffydd rose, smiling. "I owe you my life and throne and more. Blind fool that I am, it took me a little time to see that." Taking Bran by the arm, he pulled him away. "But come, Llewelyn is here-he has been most persuasive, too-and I've brought some others who are anxious to meet the renowned Rhi Bran y Hud."

  The next thing Bran knew he was surrounded by knights and noblemen-both Cymry and Ffreinc-all of them pledging their swords to him. He greeted all in turn, his thoughts churning, emotion running high as he tried to comprehend the magnitude of the good that had just be
fallen him. Baron Neufmarche remained a little apart, looking on from his saddle; he motioned Merian to him and had a brief word. She hurried to Bran and said, "No one is happier than I am for this glad meeting, but the baron wishes me to say that it would not be the wisest course to be caught on the road just now. He asks if you might lead us to your camp, where the commanders can discuss the ordering of the troops and prepare the battle plan."

  "The baron is right," allowed Gruffydd. "Is it far, your camp?"

  "My settlement was destroyed-"

  "Oh, Bran, no," said Merian. "Was anyone…?"

  "I am sorry, Merian." Bran put a hand to her shoulder to steady her for the blow. "Angharad was killed protecting Cel Craidd, and little Nia by accident. It happened when we were on a raid. Tomas is dead, too-from a Ffreinc spear."

  Merian's face crumpled. Bran slid his arm around her shoulders. "Later, my love," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear, "we will grieve them properly later. I need your strength just now."

  Nodding, she lifted her head and rubbed the tears from her eyes. "What would you have me do?"

  "Tell the baron there is a place farther on along the road where we can gather." He shook his head. "The troops will have to spread out into the forest and find places to camp of their own. My men can lead them."

  Bran raised his bow and loosed a shrill whistle that pierced the forest quiet and resounded among the rocks. From every side appeared his fighting men: Scarlet, Tuck, Rhoddi, Owain, Ifor, Brocmael, Idris, Geronwy, and Beli and Llwyd. They clambered down the rocks to join the company on the road and receive the good news. Moments later, Bran's new army was on the move with Bran himself leading them-through the gorge and beyond it to a place where the land flattened out once more. The forest thinned somewhat around a stand of great oaks and elms, and here Bran gave orders for Rhoddi and Owain to lead the army into the wood round about and let them rest. "Tuck," he said, snatching the friar by the sleeve as he greeted Merian, "stay with me-and you, too, Scarlet. We are going to hold council to plan the battle."

  While men and horses and wagons trundled into a glen in the wood, there to establish a rude camp, the kings and noblemen sat down with Bran to learn the state of affairs in Elfael, and the strength and position of King William's troops. Thus the council began, and it was long before each of the great lords had their say and all points of view had been taken into account. The sun was a dull copper glow low in the west, and the first stars were beginning to light up the sky, when a plan of battle that all agreed upon began to emerge.

  Bran was, by turns, impressed with the expertise of his new battle chiefs and irked at the necessity of biding his time while they hammered out details he would have settled long ago. But, all in all, as the last light of day faded, he declared himself pleased with the plan and confident in his commanders. The scouts would go out at dawn and make a final assessment of the enemy position ahead of the battle. Then the rebel forces would take the field against the king's army, led by the Cymry archers, supported and guarded on the flanks by Baron Neufmarche and his knights.

  As soon as the council concluded, the lords went to find food and drink with their men. Bran sent Scarlet and Tuck to tell his own war band what had happened, and then sought Merian. "It is the answer to prayer long in coming," he told her. She stepped easily into his embrace. Feeling the living warmth of her in his arms, he confessed, his voice faltering slightly, "I never hoped to see you again. I thought we had parted for good."

  "Shhh," she said. "I will never leave you again." She gave him a lingering kiss and then said, "Tell me all that has happened while I've been away."

  They talked then, and the twilight deepened around them. They were still talking when Tuck came upon them. Unwilling to intrude on their intimate moment, he settled himself on the root of a tree to wait, thinking what a strange and wonderful day it had been. And here were Bran and Merian, such a good match. There would be a wedding soon if he had anything to say about it… and, he thought, if they were all still alive this time tomorrow.

  Leaning back against the rough bole of the old elm, he closed his eyes. From the depths of misery over the recent loss of Angharad, Tomas, and Nia, who could have foreseen that their fortunes would rise to such heights so quickly? Even so, the victory was not yet won-far from it. There were battles to be fought, and the lives of many swung in the balance. Death and destruction would be great indeed. Oh, Merciful Lord, he sighed inwardly, if that could somehow be prevented… "Let this cup pass from us," he prayed softly.

  "Ah, Tuck," said Bran, interrupting the friar's meditation, "you're here-good." Still holding Merian, he turned to the little friar. "I have a job for you."

  CHAPTER 40

  Dawn was still but a whisper in the pale eastern sky when Tuck finally reached Saint Martin's. He paused below the brow of a hill a short distance from the little town and dismounted. He trudged wearily up to the top of the hill and there stood for a time to observe. The moon, bright still, illuminated the hills and filled the valleys with soft shadows. Nothing moved anywhere.

  He yawned and rubbed his face with his hands. "This friar is getting too old for these midnight rambles." His empty stomach growled. "Too right," he muttered.

  At Bran's behest, Tuck had ridden all night, making a wide, careful circuit of the valley to avoid being seen by any Ffreinc sentries or watchmen posted on the outer perimeter of King William's sprawling encampment, which lay between the forest and Elfael's fortress, Caer Cadarn. Now, coming upon the town from the north, he paused to make certain he could continue to the completion of his mission. Having come this far, it would not do to be caught now.

  There did not seem to be any Ffreinc troops around; he could not see anyone moving about the low walls. The town was quiet, asleep. "Well, Tuck, my man, time to beard the lion in his den."

  Struggling back into the saddle, he resumed his errand, descending the hill and starting up the gentle slope to the town, keeping his eyes open for any sign of discovery at his approach. But there was no one about, and he entered the town alone and, for all he could tell, unobserved. He dismounted and tethered the horse to an iron ring set in the wall of the guardhouse, then quickly and quietly started across the deserted market square towards the abbey.

  The abbey gates were closed, but he rapped gently on the door and eventually managed to rouse the porter. "I have a matter of utmost urgency for the bishop," he announced to the priest who unlatched the door. "Take me to him at once."

  The young monk, yawning, shook his head. It was then Tuck recognized him. "Odo! Wake up, boyo. It's me, Tuck. I have to see Bishop Asaph without delay."

  "God with you, Friar," said Odo, rubbing his eyes. "The bishop will be asleep."

  "There is no time," said Tuck, pressing himself through the gap. "It is life and death, Odo. We'll have to wake him."

  Tuck took the young monk's elbow, spun him around, and started walking towards the palatial lodge Abbot Hugo had built for himself. "Never fear, Brother, I would not disturb the good bishop's rest if it was not of highest importance."

  "This way, then," said Odo, and led Tuck not to the main entrance, but around the side to a small room where the secnab had lodged. "He prefers a less ostentatious cell," explained the young scribe, knocking on the door.

  There came a sleepy voice asking them to wait, and in a moment the door opened. There stood the wizened, elderly priest, barefoot, his haze of white hair a wispy nimbus on his head. One look at Tuck and he said, "How may I serve you, Brother?"

  "Bishop Asaph," said Tuck, "it is Brother Aethelfrith-do you remember me?"

  The old priest studied his face in the moonlight. Then, recognition flooded into the pale eyes. "Bran's friend! Yes, I remember you. But, tell me, has something happened? Is he well?"

  "All is well, Father," replied Tuck. "Or soon will be. I have come-"

  Asaph shivered. "Come in, Brother Aethelfrith, and let us sit by the fire." Tuck thanked Odo and stepped inside; the old priest showed him to a stool by
a tiny fire in the hearth. "These old bones are hard to keep warm," explained the bishop. "My advice, Brother, do not get old-and if you do, see you keep a little fire going in the corner. It works miracles."

  "I'll remember that," replied Tuck.

  "Now then," said Asaph, "what has kept you from your bed this night?"

  "Bran has sent me with a message," replied the friar, and went on to explain about the miraculous arrival of Gruffydd and the Cymry kings. "And that is not all-far from it!" he remarked. "Baron Neufmarche has joined the rebellion. He is lending the full force of his troops to the cause. It is, I think, the only way he can hope to hold on to his estates."

  Bishop Asaph gasped with a sharp intake of breath. "Lord Almighty!" His eyes grew round. "Then it is soon over, praise be to God."

  "One way or another, yes," replied Tuck, "and perhaps sooner than you know. The Cymry mean to attack tomorrow. We have not the supplies and such for a prolonged clash. The troops are ready, and the weather is good. We will have the higher ground…" He paused. "In short, there is no point in waiting. That is what I came to tell you. The battle attack will come in the morning, when the sun has risen above the trees so that it will be in the eyes of the Ffreinc troops."

  "God have mercy." Asaph shook his head. "I will make ready to receive the wounded, of course."

  "Yes," agreed Tuck, "and one other thing-we must get word to Iwan and Siarles at the fortress. They must know so they can be ready to strike from the rear if and when the opportunity arises." He paused. "Bran has asked if you will take the message to them."

  "Me?" blustered Asaph. "Well, of course, but-"

  "Have the king's men made any trouble for you?"

  "No, no," replied the bishop quickly. "It has been very quiet. They come here for prayer and confession-and to ensure the wounded are receiving good care. But they leave us alone."