Tuck

CHAPTER 6

Saint Martin's

As long as those outlaws hold the King's Road,"complained Marshal Guy, swirling the wine in his cup, "nothing enters or leaves the forest without their notice. We lost good men in that ill-advised attack at Winchester and-"

"You need not whip that dead horse any longer, Marshal,"growled Abbot Hugo, slamming down the pewter jar. Wine splashed out and spattered the table linen, leaving a deep crimson stain. "I am only too aware of the price we are paying to maintain this accursed realm."

"My point, Abbot, was that without hope of raising any more soldiers, the cantref is lost already. Sooner or later, the rogues will discover how few men we have, and when they do, they will attack and we will not be able to repel them. That, or they will simply wear us down. Either way, they win."

"Possibly." Hugo shook the wine from his hand, raised his cup, and drank.

"Their Raven King has made us an offer of peace-take it, I say, and let us be done with this godforsaken realm. I wish to heaven I'd never heard of it."

"Be that as it may," Hugo said, staring into his cup, "King William has given the governance of the realm to me, and I will not suffer that ridiculous King Raven and his scabrous minions to hold sway over it. They will be defeated."

"Have you heard a single word I've said?"

"I heard, Marshal, but I do not think you understand the depth of my resolve. For I propose we root out King Raven and his brood for once and all."

"Then just you tell me how do you propose we do that?" Guy de Gysburne glared at the abbot, daring him to put up something that could not be knocked down with a single blow. "As many times as we have gone against them, we have been forced to retreat. Swords and spears are no use against those infernal longbows because we cannot get close enough to use them. Pitched battle is no good: they will not stand and fight. They hide in the woods where our horses cannot go. They know the land hereabouts far better than we do, so they can sit back and slaughter us at will."

Abbot Hugo was in no mood to listen to yet another litany of Guy's complaints. They never advanced the cause and always fell back on the tired observation that unless they found a powerful patron to supply men and weapons, and provisions, the realm would fall. The battle in the grove had cost them more than either one of them cared to contemplate-though Guy had not allowed anyone within hearing distance to forget it. Of the thirty-three knights and men-at-arms left to them after the departure of the exiled Baron de Braose, only twenty-one remained. And Elfael, nestled in its valley and surrounded by forest on three sides, was far too vulnerable to the predation of Bran and his outlaw band, who had proven time and again that they could come and go as they pleased.

"If we cannot get to them," replied Hugo, adopting a more conciliatory air, "then we will bring the so-called Raven and his flock to us."

"Easier said than done," muttered Guy. "Our Raven is a canny bird. Not easy to trick, not easy to catch."

"Nor am I an adversary easily defeated." Hugo raised his cup to his mouth and took a deep draught before continuing. "Simply put, we will entice them, draw them out into the open where they cannot attack us from behind trees and such. Their bows will be no good to them at close quarters."

Guy stared at the abbot in amazement and shook his head. "The forest is their fortress. They will not leave it-not for any enticement you might offer."

"But I need offer nothing," the abbot remarked. "Don't you see?

They have outwitted themselves this time. Under pretence of accepting the peace, we will lure them into the open. Once they have shown themselves, we will slice them to ribbons."

"Just like that?" scoffed the marshal, shaking his head.

"If you have a better plan, let us hear it," snapped the abbot.

Growing weary of arguing with Gysburne at every turn, he decided to end the discussion. "Count Falkes was no match for the Welsh, as we all know. He paid the price for his mistakes and he is gone. I rule here now, and our enemies will find in me a more ruthless and cunning adversary than that de Braose ninny."

Clearly, they had reached an impasse, and Marshal Guy could think of nothing more to say. So he simply dashed the wine from his cup and took his leave.

"If all goes well, Marshal," said the abbot as Guy reached the door, "we will have that viper's nest cleaned out in three days' time."

How very optimistic," observed Sheriff de Glanville when the marshal told him what the abbot had said. "So far, in all our encounters with these brigands, we've always come off the worse-while they get away with neither scratch nor scrape."

"Putting more men in the field only gives them more targets for their accursed arrows," Guy pointed out.

"Precisely," granted the sheriff. He removed the leather hood from his falcon and blew gently on the bird's sleek head. With his free hand he picked up a gobbet of raw meat from a bowl on the table and flipped it to the keen-eyed bird on his glove. "Still, the abbot has a point-we might fare better if we could lure the outlaws from the wood. Have you any idea what the abbot has planned?"

"The outlaws have sent a message offering a truce of some kind."

"Have they indeed?"

"They have," confirmed Gysburne, "and the abbot thinks to use that to draw them out. He didn't say how it would be done."

The sheriff lifted a finger and gently stroked the falcon's head. "Well, I suppose there is no point in trying to guess what goes on in our devious abbot's mind. I have no doubt he'll tell us as soon as he is ready."

They did not have long to wait. At sundown, just after compline, the abbot summoned his two commanders to his private chambers, where he put forth his plan to rid the realm of King Raven and his flock.

"When the abbey bell goes," Abbot Hugo explained for the third time. "I want everyone in place. We don't know-"

"We don't know how many will come, so we must be ready for anything," grumbled Marshal Gysburne irritably. "For the love of Peter, there is no need to hammer us over the head with it."

The abbot arched an eyebrow. "If I desire to lay stress upon the readiness-or lack of it-of your men," he replied tartly, "be assured that I think it necessary."

"The point is taken, Abbot," offered the sheriff, entering the fray, "and after what happened in the grove at Winchester I think a little prudence cannot go amiss."

Marshal Guy flinched at the insinuation. "You weren't there, Sheriff. Were you? Were you there?"

"You know very well that I was not."

"Then I will thank you to shut your stinking mouth. You don't know a thing about what happened that day."

"Au contraire, mon ami," answered de Glanville with a cold, superior smile. "I know that you left eight good knights in that grove, and four more along the way. Twelve men died as a result, and we are no closer to ridding ourselves of these outlaws than we ever were."

The marshal regarded the sheriff from beneath lowered brows. "You smug swine," he muttered. "You dare sit in judgement of me?"

"Judge you?" inquired de Glanville innocently. "I merely state a fact. If that stings, then perhaps-"

"Enough!" said Abbot Hugo, slapping the arm of his chair with his palm. "Save your spite for the enemy."

Sheriff de Glanville gave the abbot a curt nod and said, "Forgive me, Abbot. As I was about to say, we will never have a better chance to take the enemy unawares. If the outlaws escape into the forest, it will be just like the massacre in the grove. We cannot allow that to happen. This is, I fear, our last best chance to take them. We must succeed this time, or all is lost."

"I agree, of course," replied the abbot. "That goes without saying."

"I beg your pardon, Abbot," remarked the sheriff, "but in matters of war, nothing ever goes without saying."

"Well then," sniffed Gysburne, "we have no worries there. You've seen to that-most abundantly."

"Get out of here-both of you," said the abbot. Rising abruptly, he flapped his hands at them as if driving away bothersome birds. "Go on. Just remember, I want you to have your men ready to attack the moment I draw the rogues out of hiding. And strike swiftly. I will not be made to stand waiting out there alone."

"You will not be alone, Abbot. Far from it," said de Glanville. "Gysburne and I will be hidden in the forest, and some of my men will be among your monks. We have thought of everything, I assure you."

"Just you match deed to word, Sheriff, and I will consider myself assured."

The two commanders left the abbey, each to look after his own preparations. Sometime later, when the moon was low and near to setting, but dawn was still a long way off, a company of soldiers departed Saint Martin's. Moving like slow shadows across the valley, ten mounted knights in two columns-their armour and horses' tack muffled with rags to prevent the slightest sound, their weapons dulled with sooted grease so that no glint or shine could betray them-rode in silence to the edge of the forest. Upon reaching the dark canopy of the trees, they dismounted and walked a short distance into the wood, hid their horses and themselves in the thick underbrush, then settled back to wait.