Tuck

CHAPTER 41

The sun was well up and climbing towards the tops of the higher trees by the time Tuck reached the safety of the greenwood. The combined armies of Cymry rebels were already amassing at the edge of the forest. Hampered by the trees and undergrowth, Tuck worked his way along the battle line, searching for Bran. By the time he found him, the sun was that much higher and the assault that much nearer.

"Bran!" cried Tuck. "Thank God, I've found you in time." He slid from the saddle and ran to where Bran was waiting with Scarlet, Owain, and his own small war band, engulfed and surrounded by King Gruffydd's troops and those of the northern lords. "I bring word-"

"Be quick about it," Bran told him. "I am just about to give the command-"

"No!" said Tuck, almost frantic. "Forgive me, my lord, but do nothing until you've heard what I have to say."

"Very well," Bran agreed. He called across to Gruffydd and Llewelyn, who were standing a little apart. "Stand ready to march as soon as I have returned." To Tuck, he said, "Come with me."

He led them a little way into the wood, to a place where they would not be overheard. "Well? Is the bishop able to get a message to the caer?"

It took a moment for the priest to recall his original errand. "Oh, that, yes." Tuck licked his lips and swallowed. "I have seen the king."

"The king… Red William?"

"The same," replied the friar, and explained what had happened in the town-how he had been surprised by Ffreinc riders and hid himself in the church, how William had mistaken him for one of the abbey priests and asked to be shriven, and their talk about the rebellion.

"Did you shrive him?"

"I did, yes, but-"

"So that means they intend to attack today," concluded Bran. "Well done, Tuck; it confirms us in our plan. We will strike without delay." He started away.

"That is not all," said Tuck. "The king was distraught about the cost of this war. It weighs heavily with him. He stands to lose his tribute money from Normandie."

"Good."

"Above all else he desires a swift end to this conflict," Tuck explained. "I believe he would be moved towards peace."

"That he will not have," declared Bran. "And you are certain Bishop Asaph will warn Iwan and Siarles at the fortress?"

"He will."

"Then all is ready." He commended Tuck for his diligence, and returned to the battle line, where he gave a nod to Gruffydd, Llewelyn, and the others. "God with you today, my lords, and with us all," he called, and raising his warbow, he gave the signal to move out.

The massed armies of Cymry archers and Ffreinc soldiers under the command of Baron Neufmarche slowly moved out from the shelter of Coed Cadw; the knights on horseback and the Cymry on foot, they marched down the slope and into the Vale of Elfael. Their appearance threw William's troops into a chaos of frantic activity as the alarms were sounded through the various camps. The knights, men-at-arms, and footmen were well trained, however, and hastily mustered for battle. As the Cymry drew nearer, the Ffreinc moved to meet them, first one division and then another until the gaps in the line were filled and they had formed a single, dense body of soldiers-the knights in the centre, flanked by the footmen.

Tuck, with his staff, taking his place behind Bran and Scarlet, found himself walking beside Owain. "Whatever happens today," said the young warrior, "I would have you say a prayer for me, Friar."

"And here I have been praying for us all since first light, have I not?"

"Then," said Owain, "I will pray for you, Friar Tuck."

"Do that, boyo," agreed Tuck. "You do that."

The Cymry moved slowly down from the forest, spreading out along the rim of the valley a little north of the King's Road so that when they attacked the sun would be at their backs and in the eyes of the enemy. They came to the steepest part of the slope and stopped so that William's troops would have to toil uphill to engage them, while they could rain arrows down into the ranks of advancing knights as well as those behind.

King William's barons and earls, each in command of his own men, formed the battle line, filling in the gaps between the separate bodies until the knights rode shoulder to shoulder and shield to shield, spears raised and ready to swing down into position when the order was given to charge. The footmen scrambled into ranks behind the knights and prepared to deliver the second assault when the knights broke the enemy line.

Up on the slopes across the valley, the Cymry archers took handfuls of arrows and thrust them point-first into the turf before them, ready to hand when the order came to loose havoc on the advancing Ffreinc. Baron Neufmarche, at the head of his troops, drew into position to the northwest-ready to swoop down upon the unprotected flanks of William's army the moment the charge faltered under the hail of shafts. If, however, the knights survived the charge and carried the attack forward, he would come in hard to protect the archers' retreat.

"Come on, you ugly frog-faced knaves…" muttered Scarlet. He stretched and flexed the stiffness from his injured hand, then plucked a shaft from the ground and nocked it to the string. "… a little closer and you're mine."

Other men were speaking now-some in prayer, and others in derision of the enemy, banking courage in themselves and those around them. Bran stood silent, watching the slow, steady advance of the Ffreinc line. He suddenly found himself wishing Angharad were alive to see this day. He missed her and the knowledge that she was upholding him in her mysterious and powerful way. Closing his eyes, he prayed that she was gazing down on him and would intercede with the angels of war on his behalf and sustain him in the battle.

He was still occupied with this thought when he heard Gruffydd say, "Here, now! What's this?"

Bran opened his eyes to see that the Ffreinc had halted just out of easy arrow flight. The early sun glinted off the polished surfaces of their shields and weapons. There was a movement from the centre, and the line broke, parting to the left and right as a small body of knights rode forward. Two of the riders carried banners-one bearing the royal standard of King William: a many-tailed flag with a red cross on a white field and a strip of ermine across the bottom separating the body from the green, blue, and yellow tails. The other knight bore the standard of England: the Cross of Jerusalem in gold surrounded by smaller crosslets of blue; its tails were green, gold and blue, each tail ending in small gold tassels.

These banners preceded a single knight, riding between them. Two more knights followed the lone rider, and all advanced to a point halfway between the two armies, and there they halted.

"Saints and angels," said Gruffydd, "what's the old devil about?"

"I think Bloody William wants to talk," replied Llewelyn.

"I say we give him an arrow in the eye and let that do our talking for us," declared Gruffydd. He nudged Llewelyn beside him. "Your aim is true, Cousin; let fly and we'll see that rascal off right smart."

"No!" said Tuck, pressing forward. "Begging your pardon, my lords, I do believe he wants to beg terms of peace."

"Peace!" scoffed Gruffydd. "Never! The old buzzard wants to sneak us into a trap, more like. I say give him an arrow or two and teach him to keep his head down."

"My lord," pleaded Tuck, "if it is peace he wants, it would be the saving of many lives."

Bran gazed across the distance at the king, sitting on his fine horse, his newly burnished armour glinting in the golden light of a brilliant new day. "If he does want to talk," Bran decided at last, "it will cost us nothing to hear what he has to say. We can attack as soon as the discussion is concluded." He turned to Gruffydd. "I will talk to him. You and Llewelyn be ready to lead the assault if things go badly." He motioned to Will Scarlet, saying, "Come with me, Will. And you, too, Tuck-your French is better than mine."

"Baron Neufmarche speaks French better than any of us," Tuck pointed out. "Send for him."

"Maybe later," allowed Bran. "We'll see if there's anything worth talking about first."

Together the three of them walked down the grassy slope to where the king of England had established himself between his billowing standards.

"Perhaps the friar is right," suggested Will Scarlet. "It would not hurt to have Neufmarche with us."

"We will call him if we need him," allowed Bran.

"William speaks English," Tuck told them.

"Does he indeed?" said Bran.

"A little, anyway-more than he'll admit to."

"Then we will insist," Bran decided. "That way we can all be very careful about what we say to one another."

They came to within fifty paces of the knights on horseback. "Mon roi," said Bran, with a glancing nod of respect. "Parlerez-vous?"

"Oui," replied King William. "Je veux vous parler de la paix."

"He wants to talk to you about making peace," said Tuck.

"Bon," said Bran. To Tuck, he said, "Tell him that we will speak in English and that you will relay my words to him."

Tuck did as he was commanded, and a strange expression passed over the king's face. "You," he said. "Have I seen you before?"

"You've seen us all before, you mule-headed varlet," muttered Scarlet in Welsh.

"Steady on, Scarlet," said Bran. "We're here to listen."

"Oh, indeed, yes, Sire," replied Tuck. "We met first in Rouen last year-when my Lord Bran came to warn you of the plot by your brother against your throne."

William nodded. "Somewhere else, I think."

"Yes," said Tuck. "I was at Wintan Cestre when you gave your judgement against Baron de Braose and Count Falkes, and delivered this cantref into the care of Abbot Hugo Rainault and Sheriff de Glanville."

William squinted his eyes and regarded the little friar with a suspicious look-as if trying to decide if the priest was mocking him in some subtle way. "No… somewhere else." Realization came to him, and his eyebrows raised. "Le Sang Vierge! You were that priest in the church this morning."

"True, Majesty," answered Tuck. "That is a fact I cannot deny."

"Good Lord, Tuck," whispered Scarlet, "you've been a busy fella."

The king frowned, then said, "C'est la vie-I am glad you are here." Turning his attention to the task at hand he said to Bran, "Good day for a battle, eh?"

"None better," replied Bran, through Tuck.

"What is this about you, ah… desirer the throne of this godforsaken cantref? You have caused me the very devil of trouble, my lord."

"With respect, Sire," answered Bran, "I want only what is rightfully mine-the throne my family has occupied for two hundred years."

"Hmph!" sniffed William, unimpressed. "That is finished. Britain is a Norman country now. I made my decision. Can you not accept it?"

Tuck and Bran conferred, and the friar said, "Again, with respect, Sire, my Lord Bran would remind you that the two of you made a bargain in Rouen-a throne for a throne. That is what you said. Bran helped you save your throne; now he wants the one he was promised."

King William frowned. He took off his helmet and rubbed a gloved hand through his thinning red hair. After a moment, he said, "Your priest here," he jabbed a stubby finger at Tuck, "says you will swear fealty to me. Is that true?"

"Oui," said Bran. "Yes."

"If I restore you to the throne," William said, "you will cease this rebellion-is that so?"

Again, Bran and Tuck conferred. "That is what I intended from the first."

"This miserable little cantref has already cost me more than I will ever see out of it," grumbled William. "What you want with it, God knows. But you are welcome to it."

"Your Majesty!" gasped one of the barons attending William. "I fear you are making a grave mistake."

The knight moved up beside the king, and the forest-dwellers recognized him for the first time. "You had your say long ago, Gysburne," Tuck told him. "Ferme la bouche."

"You cannot just give it back to them," insisted Marshal Gysburne, "not after what they've done."

"Can I not?" growled the king. "Who are you, sir, to tell me what I can do? The priest is right-shut your mouth." Turning to Bran, he said, "It grows hot and I am thirsty. Can we discuss this somewhere out of the sun? I have wine in my tent. Come, let us talk together."

"I would like nothing more," replied Bran when Tuck had told him what the king said. "However, I would like to choose the place of discussion."

"Where, then?"

"The fortress is just there," said Bran, pointing down the slope to the caer on its mound in the near distance. "We will talk there."

"But the stronghold is full of your warriors," the king pointed out.

"Some warriors, yes," allowed Bran. "But farmers and herders, too-the people who have suffered under de Braose, Abbot Hugo, and Sheriff de Glanville these last years."

"Am I to go into this den of wolves alone?" said the king.

"Bring as many of your knights as you wish," Bran told him. "The more who see us swear peace with one another, the better it will be for everyone."

When King William and his knights rode into the fortress yard at midday, Bran and his people were ready to receive them. Bran, with Merian on one hand and Tuck on the other, was flanked by Iwan and Siarles on the right, and Will Scarlet and Alan a'Dale on the left. Behind him were other members of the Grellon-Noin, Owain, Brocmael, and Ifor, and most of the forest-dwellers. Baron Bernard Neufmarche stood a little apart, with two of his knights holding Sheriff Richard de Glanville, bound at the wrists, between them. Beside the knights stood Bishop Asaph gripping the oaken shaft of his brass-topped crosier, and Odo clutching a big Bible.

The king of England was accompanied by a dozen knights, Marshal Guy of Gysburne amongst them. Around the perimeter of the yard stood the people of Elfael. Outside the walls of the fortress, the army was drawn up and waiting. Beyond them, on the heights above the valley, the Cymry kings and their archers kept watch on the proceedings. If William's army moved to attack, they would move to prevent it.

William Rufus rode to the centre of the yard, where his personal canopy had been set up. He dismounted and was greeted by Bran. Merian and Baron Neufmarche joined them to make certain that no misunderstandings arose because of a simple lack of language on either side. A small table had been set up beneath the canopy, and two chairs. On the table was a jar and a single bowl.

"Your Majesty," said Bran, "if it please you, sit with me. We will drink together."

"I would like nothing better," said the king. Seeing Neufmarche, he stopped and turned to his wayward vassal. "Baron, do not think that your part in this will be ignored."

The baron inclined his head in acceptance of the king's charge, but replied, "What I have done I did for the greater good."

"Ha!" scoffed the king. "Your own good most of all, I do not doubt. By the Virgin, man, how could you turn against me?"

"It was not so much turning against you, Sire," replied the baron, "but protecting myself. Even so, it is fortunate that we did not have to try one another in battle."

"Fortunate, eh?" said the king. "We will talk of this another time." He moved to take his place beneath the brightly coloured canopy. Bran joined him and sat down, with Merian on one side and Tuck on the other. The baron stood to one side between the two kings and, acting as steward, poured wine into the bowl. He handed the bowl to Bran, who took it up, drank a draught, and then offered it to William.

Red William accepted the bowl and drank, then returned it to Bran. The back-and-forth continued until the bowl was drained, whereupon Baron Neufmarche refilled it and placed it on the table between them.

"God with you, Your Majesty," said Bran, who between Merian and the baron was able to make his thoughts known. "And though we might both wish that the occasion was otherwise, I do bid you welcome to Caer Cadarn and Elfael. It is my hope that we rise from this table better friends than when we sat down."

"Let us cut to the bone," replied the king in English. "What are your terms?"

Bran smiled. "I want only what I have always wanted-"

"Your precious throne, yes," answered the king. "You shall have it. What else?"

"Full pardon for myself and my Grellon, and any who have aided me in returning the realm to my rule," said Bran. "And that will include Baron Neufmarche."

The king frowned at this last part when it was explained to him, but gave a grudging nod of assent. "What else?"

"Nothing more," said Bran. "Only your seal on a treaty of peace between our kingdoms."

William gave a bark of disbelief when Neufmarche translated Bran's last remarks. "Nothing else? No reparations? No silver to pay your soldiers?"

"My warriors are mine to repay," said Bran. "We Cymry take care of our own."

"I wish every fiefdom took care of itself, by the blood," replied William. He leaned back in his chair and gave every appearance of beginning to enjoy himself. "If you have nothing else, then hear my terms. I require your oath of fealty and a tribute to be paid each year on…" He tapped his chin as he thought, then caught a glimpse of Tuck and said, "You, there, priest-if you are a priest-what is the nearest holy day to this one?"

Tuck moved a step forward. "That would be Gwyl Iwan y Coed," he replied. "The Feast of Saint John the Baptist, in plain English."

"John le Baptiste, oui," said Neufmarche, passing this along to the king.

"Henceforth, on the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, a tribute of…" He looked around at the rude fortress and the mean, common dress of the half-starved inhabitants and the grim determination he saw on their faces and made his decision. "A tribute of one good longbow and a sheaf of arrows to be presented to the Royal Court at Londein and given over to the care of the Chief Justiciar."

Merian gasped with joy, and Tuck, who caught most of what was said, chuckled and told the others standing round about.

"Oh, Bran," breathed Merian, giving Bran's shoulder a squeeze. Tuck relayed the terms to the Grellon and all those looking on. "The king has decided to be generous."

Baron Neufmarche and the king exchanged a brief word, and the baron said, "King William will accept the release of his sheriff now." He summoned the knights forward, and de Glanville was marched to the table.

"As a token of the peace we have sworn between us, I release him to your authority," said Bran. He motioned to his champion, standing behind Friar Tuck. "Iwan, cut him loose."

The big warrior stepped forward and, grinning with good pleasure at the astonishing turn events had taken, drew the knife from his belt and began cutting through the bonds at the sheriff 's wrists. The rawhide straps fell away, and with a sweep of his hand, Iwan indicated that the prisoner was free to go.

As Iwan replaced the knife and made to step back, de Glanville snatched the dagger from his belt and leaped forward. In the same swift movement, he drew back his hand and prepared to plunge the dagger into Bran's unprotected neck. The naked blade flashed forward and down. Tuck saw the arcing glint hard in the bright sunlight and gave out a yelp of warning. Iwan, startled, put out his hand.

But it was too late.

The knife slashed down a killing stroke.

Then, even as the cruel blade descended to its mark, the sheriff 's hand faltered and appeared to seize in its forward sweep. Halted, it hovered in midstroke. The knife point quivered, then fell to the ground.

It happened so fast that almost no one saw what had arrested the knife until Sheriff de Glanville let out a shriek of agony and crumpled to his knees. Only slowly, as if in a dream, did the stunned onlookers discover Will Scarlet standing over the sheriff, his own hand clamped tight over de Glanville's. He gave the captured hand a squeeze, and there was a meaty crunch and pop as the sheriff 's fingers gave way.

De Glanville gave out a roar of pain and anger and swung at Scarlet with his free hand. Tuck, snatching the crosier from Bishop Asaph's hand, grasped it like a quarterstaff and swung it once around his head and brought it down with a solid thump on the top of the sheriff 's head; de Glanville crumpled to the ground, where he lay on his side, whimpering and cradling his broken fingers.

"Stand him up!" commanded William with an airy wave of his hand. Turning to Bran he spoke with some sincerity. "His Majesty offers heartfelt apologies," Neufmarche translated. "He asks what you would like him to do with the rogue."

"I will leave that to Scarlet," replied Bran, looking to Will for an answer.

"Broken fingers are a long and painful reminder of a man's failure," replied the forester. "As I should know. I am satisfied if he takes that away with him-so long as we never have to see him again."

"That's a far sight more mercy than he deserves," said Bran. "And more than he ever showed you, Will."

"And is my husband not the better man?" said Noin, taking Will's arm.

Bran's decision was delivered to King William, who merely grunted. "This man is no longer one of my sheriffs. Remove him from our sight." Then, rising, he held out his hand to one of his knights. "Your sword," he said.

The knight drew his blade and handed it to the king, who turned to Bran. He spoke and indicated a place on the ground before him.

"His Majesty is saying that he must leave now if he is to reach Normandie in time to collect his tribute," Baron Neufmarche explained. "He says there is but one more thing he must do before he goes."

"Sire?" said Bran.

Again the king spoke and indicated the place on the ground at his feet.

"He says you are to kneel and swear your fealty to him," said Neufmarche.

Bran called Bishop Asaph to him. "Father, will you see that it is done properly?"

"Of course, Rhi Bran," said the old man. "It will be an honour." As the bishop took his place beside King William, Bran knelt and stretched out his hand to grasp the king's foot. William, holding the sword upright in both hands, directed his newest vassal in the age-old ceremony which bound man to lord, and lord to king. Bishop Asaph lofted his crosier and offered a prayer to seal the vow, and the simple rite was concluded.

William touched the edge of the sword to the back of Bran's neck and told him to rise. "You are now my liegeman, and I am your liege lord," the king told him, and Merian, standing near, interpreted. "Rule your realm in peace as God gives you strength."

"In the strength of God," replied Bran, "I will." As he said those words, he felt Merian slip her hand into his, and then he was caught up in the tremendous sea wave of acclamation that rose up from the long-suffering folk of Elfael, whose joy at seeing their king triumphant could not be contained.

King William called for his horse to be brought and his men to depart. "We will meet again, no doubt," he said.

"On the Feast of Saint John the Baptist," replied Bran.

"Rule well and wisely," said the king in English. He searched the crowd for a face, and found it. "And see you keep this man close to your throne," he said, pulling Tuck forward. "He has done you good service. If not for him, there would be no peace to celebrate this day."

"In truth, Your Majesty," said Bran. "I will keep him with me always."

That night Rhi Bran ap Brychan celebrated his return to the throne with the first of what would become many days of feasting, song, and merriment, and went to sleep in his own bed. And though in the days ahead he would often return to the greenwood to visit Angharad's grave and tell his Wise Banfaith how his kingdom fared, he never spent another night in the forest so long as he lived.