Tuck

CHAPTER 29

Well, here's a prize we never thought to get," remarked Iwan. He put a hand to the sheriff 's shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. The sheriff moaned, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled for consciousness, but he made no effort to rise.

Bran had quickly recalled his men, and they gathered once more to receive new instructions. As Bran began to explain what he had in mind, their prisoner regained his senses. "Vous! J'ai pense j'ai senti la merde," groaned the sheriff in a voice thick and slurred.

"What did he say?" asked Bran.

"Nothing nice," replied Tuck. He gave the sheriff a kick with the toe of his shoe and warned him to speak respectfully or keep his mouth shut.

"Me tuer, et est fait."

"He wants us to kill him now and be done with it," offered the friar.

"Kill a valuable prisoner like you?" said Bran. Squatting down, he patted the sheriff 's clothes and felt along his belt before withdrawing a dagger, which he took and handed to Scarlet. "I suppose you'd prefer death just now, but you'll have to become accustomed to disappointment." To Tuck, he added, "Tell him what I said."

Tuck relayed Bran's words to de Glanville, who groaned and put his face to the ground once more.

"What is in your mind, my lord?" asked Iwan.

"Bind him," Bran directed, "and get him on his feet. Gysburne and his men will be recovering their courage, and any moment they might take it into their heads to come after us. Siarles, Tomas-see how many arrows you can get from the field, and hurry back."

The two hurried off, returning a short while later with eight shafts collected in fair condition from dead soldiers, which added to the six they already possessed brought the total to fourteen. "I would there were more, but these will have to do," Bran said. "Pray it is enough." He gave arrows to each of the archers, save the wounded Owain and himself. Instead, he shouldered his bow and took the sheriff 's sword, and instructed Tuck to ask de Glanville where the Ffreinc had hidden their horses.

Tuck did so, and received a terse reply-to which Tuck responded with another sharp rap of his staff against the sheriff 's shins. De Glanville let out a yelp of pain and spat a string of words. "He says they're behind the rocks," reported Tuck, pointing a short distance away to a heap of boulders half covered in ivy and bracken.

While Siarles and Rhoddi collected the horses, Bran turned to Owain. "Do you think you can ride?"

His face was white and he was sweating, but his voice was steady as he replied, "I can ride, my lord."

"Very well." Bran nodded. He turned to Tomas. "I'm sending you and Owain back to Cel Craidd. Tell Angharad and the others what has happened, and to see to Owain's wound. Then get Alan and bring him. The two of you meet us on the road-the place near the stream where the willows grow."

Tomas nodded. "I know the place."

"Then go. Ride like the devil himself was on your tail." To the others Bran said, "Find us something to drink and be ready to ride as soon as Siarles and Rhoddi return with the horses."

"What about the wagons?" asked Iwan.

"Leave them," said Bran. "If all goes well, we will own not only the wagons but all the rest of Elfael before nightfall."

The graves had been dug outside the abbey walls and the first bodies were being laid to rest under the solemn gaze of Captain Aloin and the chanting of Psalms from some of Saint Martin's monks when one of the gravediggers glanced up and saw, in the crimson light of a fading sunset, a body of men on horseback riding towards them from the direction of the forest. At first thought, he assumed it must be Sheriff de Glanville and his men returning at last from their part in the day's events, so he said nothing. But as the riders came closer, a trickle of doubt began to erode his assumption.

Captain Aloin, bruised and battered by his first encounter with King Raven and the lethal Welsh longbows, had determined to raise the issue of what he considered Marshal Guy's murderous incompetence with both the abbot and the sheriff at first opportunity. Clearly, Gysburne had to go. Aloin was thinking how best to put his case before the abbot and did not hear the monk speaking to him. He felt a touch on his arm and glanced up.

"Mon seigneur, regarder… " said the monk.

Aloin shifted his eyes from the corpse being lowered into the grave and looked where the monk was pointing. The approaching horsemen were near enough now to make out their faces, and what he saw was not the sheriff and his men, but strangers riding Ffreinc horses. "Qui dans les flames!"

"C'est le gallois…"

"Que?"

"The one they call King Raven," said the monk.

"Blind them! They have Sheriff de Glanville!"

Instantly terrified, the monks and soldiers scattered, running for the safety of the abbey walls. Within moments, the abbey bells were signalling alarm. The few remaining knights who were not seriously wounded scurried to arm themselves and meet the attack. What they met instead were seven outlaws surrounding a red-faced, sullen Sheriff Richard de Glanville bound with his own belt.

The town square had been given over to the wounded from the day's earlier skirmishes; they had been laid on pallets in the open air to have their injuries tended by the monks, who moved among the rows of pallets, bathing and bandaging the injuries and offering what comfort they could to the dying. The outlaws rode to the entrance of the square, and one of them-in good plain French-called aloud for Abbot Hugo. The abbot, heeding the warning of King Raven's approach, had hidden himself in the guard tower to be defended by the eight knights still able to fight. These had arrayed themselves before the tower, weapons levelled, ready for the attack.

When the abbot failed to present himself, the French-speaking outlaw called, "Marshal Guy de Gysburne! Show yourself!"

There was a movement at the foot of the tower. "I am Guy," said the marshal, shoving through the knot of men. "What is this?"

"This," replied Alan, putting out a hand to the sheriff, "is all that is left of the company sent out to plunder the countryside this morning. The battle is over, and we have come to negotiate the terms of surrender."

"Surrender!" scoffed Gysburne. "Your surrender, I expect."

"No, my lord," replied Alan a'Dale. "The surrender of Abbot Hugo and yourself, and those of your men still alive. You will bring the abbot now so that we can begin."

A knight moved to take his place beside the marshal. "You must be insane," he charged, "coming here like this." He flung an accusing finger at the outlaw band. "Come down off your horses, you filthy dogs. We will settle this here and now!"

Bran leaned near his interpreter and spoke a few words, which Alan passed on, speaking to Gysburne. "Who is this man? My lord wishes to know."

"I am Captain Aloin, by the blood! Come down here and-"

"Hear me, Marshal Gysburne," interrupted Alan, "you will tell your man to hold his tongue. We have nothing to say to him."

"You arrogant dog!" sneered Guy. He spat on the ground in a show of contempt. "There will be no talk of surrender."

Alan paused to confer with Bran, then nodded and continued, "Rhi Bran urges you to take a good, long look around you, Marshal," he said. "Unless you wish to join your men here in the square-or out in the ground behind the abbey-you will do well to reconsider."

Gysburne and Aloin exchanged a word, and the marshal replied, "We hold this realm by order of King William-"

"You have gone against my lord's longbows twice today and have been beaten both times. Do you truly wish to try again? If so, be assured that you and the sheriff will be the first to die-and then what is left of your men will join you." Alan paused to allow this to sink in among all those listening. Then, in a plaintive tone, he added, "Think, man. There has been enough killing today. Bring the abbot and let him surrender and put an end to the bloodshed."

Bran lifted the sword in his hand and, from their saddles, the archers on either flank bent the bellies of their longbows.

Guy hesitated a moment more, then called out, "Sergeant Jeremias, do as he says. Fetch the abbot."

"Prudence is a virtue," Tuck muttered under his breath as he watched the sergeant dart up the stone steps of the tower, "and wisdom is gained through trials of many kinds."

"Most always too late," added Scarlet.

There followed a tense and uneasy interval in which both sides glared across the square at one another. Captain Aloin, seeing that there were but six Cymry archers, one ragged monk, and an unarmed translator, was for rushing them on the chance that his few healthy knights might overwhelm them. "We can take them," Aloin whispered. "At most they'll only get an arrow or two off before we cut them down."

"Yes, and it's the first arrow that kills you," replied Marshal Guy. "Have you already forgotten what happened at the farm?"

"It is madness to deal with them."

"That is as may be," granted Gysburne. "But do you really want to add another slaughter to your tally today? It is the abbot they want. So, we let him decide."

At last the abbot appeared, and owing to the look of stunned horror on his face he hardly seemed the same man. Clearly, the last thing he expected of this day was to find his enemy standing in the town square delivering demands of capitulation. But that was how things stood.

"Bouchers!" he snarled as he came striding up, trying to rouse his innate defiance. "Les meurtres!"

"Pax l'abbe!" shouted Bran across the yard. "Your life and those of your men is in our hands. Be quiet and listen if you want that life to continue another breath longer."

Alan relayed these words to the abbot, who subsided. "Ask him what he wants-my head on a silver platter, I suppose?"

Bran smiled when he heard this, and replied, "No, Abbot. Your head is worth less than the trouble it would take to carve it from your scabby shoulders. But here is what I want: you are to lay down your arms and leave Elfael-you and all your men, and any of the townsfolk who choose to go with you."

Alan translated Bran's demand, and the abbot's face darkened.

"See here!" he protested. "You have no ri-"

"You sent soldiers against me today, and the issue has been decided. I claim the victor's right to the spoils. If you would keep your life, you must leave this place and never return."

"Allow me a moment to confer with my commander," said the abbot when Alan had finished. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Marshal Gysburne. "Idiot, do something-you just stand there. Attack! Kill them."

"The first man to advance against them is dead where he stands, my lord abbot," replied Guy. "So, please, by all means lead the way."

"But they cannot get away with this-just like that."

"Just like that? They've killed nearly forty of our men today already, priest!" Gysburne's voice was an ugly growl. "Are you blind as well as stupid? Look around you. The soldiers you see on their feet are all we have left. How many more must die to satisfy your insane ambitions?"

The abbot gazed around at his sorely beaten troops, as if seeing them for the first time. "This is all we have left?"

"Every last one," replied Gysburne.

"Where are the rest?"

"Either dead or dying-and I'm not joining them. Not like this. Not today."

"The marshal is right, Abbot," conceded Captain Aloin at last. "Make the best bargain you can, and we'll go back to the king and raise a force large enough to vanquish these bandits for once and all. We were beaten today, but the war is not over. We live to fight again."

Bran, having permitted them to speak freely, signalled Alan to bring the discussion to an end. "Enough!" he called. "What is it to be? Lord Bran says you must give your answer now."

Abbot Hugo drew himself up to full height. He lifted his head, some of the old defiance returning. "I agree to nothing," he announced, "until you accept our conditions."

"What conditions?" Bran asked, when Alan informed him of the abbot's reply. "Perhaps you will accept the same conditions you offered those farm families this morning?"

The abbot's lip curled into a silent snarl.

"I thought not," continued Bran, speaking through Alan. "Here are the conditions I offer: you are to depart now, taking nothing with you but the clothes on your back."

This reply occasioned a long and impassioned plea from the abbot.

"What did he say?" Bran asked.

"The coward is afraid you mean to slaughter them all the moment their backs are turned. He wants safe conduct to the border of Elfael."

"Tell him he can have that, and gladly," agreed Bran. "Also, tell him that as long as he abides by the terms of surrender, no one will be killed."

When this was relayed to the abbot, the cleric made another impassioned speech.

"Now what does he want?" said Bran, losing his patience.

"He says he needs time to gather his things-his papers and such," said Alan.

"I wouldn't trust him further than I could spit," muttered Tuck. "Look at him-the old devil. He probably means to empty the treasury before he goes."

"I know I would," added Scarlet.

"Do not let them out of your sight," said Iwan. "There's no telling what he might get up to."

"They have to leave now," insisted Siarles. "With nothing but the clothes on their backs."

Bran lifted the reins and urged his mount a few steps closer. "Hear me, Abbot. That you live to draw breath when so many who served you are dead this day is insult to heaven above and God's creatures below. You will go now, taking only what you have hidden in your robes. Your men are to lay down their arms now. When that is done, you will all be escorted from Elfael-never to return on pain of death."

"What about the wounded?" said Gysburne. "They cannot travel."

Bran held a quick consultation with Tuck and Iwan, and Alan relayed the decision. "They will continue to be cared for by the monks of the abbey until they are well enough to leave." He pointed to the sheriff, who sat slumped in the saddle with his head down, miserable in defeat. "When the last is fit to travel, all will be sent along with the monks in the care of the sheriff. To ensure that this agreement is upheld, de Glanville will remain a hostage until that time. His life is forfeit if you fail to honour your part."

"You mean to kill them all anyway as soon as we're gone," said Gysburne.

As Alan relayed the marshal's words, Bran gazed at his adversary with an expression so hard it might have been carved of stone. "Tell him," he replied, "that if I meant to kill them, they would be dead already."

"How do we know you'll keep your word?" demanded Aloin when the translator finished.

"You will all die here and now if the surrender is not agreed," said Alan. "My lord Bran says that if his word is not acceptable, then you are free to take your wounded with you now."

The abbot did not like this last proviso, and made to dispute it, but Bran would not relent. In the end, Gysburne sealed the bargain by turning the sword in his hand and throwing it down in the dirt halfway between himself and Bran.

"God in heaven be praised!" said Tuck. "I do believe they're going to surrender. You've done it, Bran. You beautiful man, you've done it!"

"Steady on, Friar," replied Bran. "This is not finished yet by a long throw. We are dancing on a knife edge here; pray we don't yet slip." He cast his gaze around the square. "I greatly fear a fall now would prove fatal."

"All of you," said Iwan, pointing to the sword on the ground.

One by one, the soldiers added their weapons to the marshal's; Captain Aloin was the last to disarm.

"What now?" said Siarles.

"Gather round, everyone," said Bran, and explained how they were to shepherd the Ffreinc through the forest. "We'll see them to the Vale of Wye and release them at the border of the March. Then, they are on their own."

"It will be dark soon," Tuck pointed out.

"Then we had best get started," Bran replied. "All saints and angels bear witness, on my life they will not spend another night in my realm."