Tuck

CHAPTER 34

They're coming!"

At the shout, Tuck sat up and rubbed his face. He had been trimming the end of his staff and had fallen asleep in the warm sunlight. Now, he rose and, taking up the sturdy length of ashwood, gave it a swing once around his head, offering a grunt of satisfaction at the comforting heft of the simple weapon. He then turned around in time to see the messenger slide down the grassy bank and into the bowl of Cel Craidd. It was Prebyn, the son of one of the farmers whose house and barn had been burned by the Ffreinc when they ransacked their settlement a few days before. "They're coming! The Ffreinc are coming!"

Bran and Tuck hurried to meet the young man. "My lord Rhi Bran! Rhi Bran! They're coming," announced Prebyn, red faced and breathless from his run. "The Ffreinc… King William… they're on the road… they'll be here any moment." He gulped air. "There's thousands of them… thousands…"

"Steady on, Prebyn," said Bran. "Draw breath." He put his hand on the farmer's broad back. "Calm yourself."

The young man bent over and rested his hands on his knees, blowing air through his mouth. When he was able to speak again, Bran said, "Now, then. Tell me, what did Rhoddi say?"

"My lord Rhi Bran, he said I was to tell you that Red William's soldiers have been sighted on the road at the bottom of the long ridge-where the stream crosses-"

"I know the place," Bran said. "Rhoddi has given us fair warning. We have a little time yet." He sent the youth away with instructions to get something to drink, saddle a horse, and hurry back for new orders. "Well, my friend, we're in it now," he said when the messenger had gone. "I'll send Prebyn to the caer to alert Iwan and Siarles."

"God have mercy," breathed Tuck.

Bran turned and called out across Cel Craidd, "Scarlet! Owain! To me! Tomas-my weapons. To me, lads! The Ffreinc have been sighted."

This call roused the sleepy settlement, and soon the few remaining inhabitants were running here and there to help the warriors on their way. Out from a nearby dwelling, Angharad emerged. Bran hurried to meet her. "It begins," he said.

"So it does." She unfolded a bit of soft leather and handed Bran three coiled bowstrings. "God with you, Rhi Bran," she said. "These I made especially for this day." Her face froze then, and she drew a breath as if to speak, but thought better of it.

"I thank you, Wise Banfaith," he replied, placing the bowstrings in a pouch at his belt. "Was there something else you wanted to say?"

The old woman stared at him, her dark eyes peering as through a mist. Bran could sense her struggling… to find the words? To reach him in some way? Finally, she relaxed. Her face softened and she smiled, her wrinkled face smoothing somewhat in simple pleasure. "All that needs saying have I said." Reaching out, she covered his hands with hers and gripped them tight. "Now it is for us to remember."

"Then we will do the work of remembering," replied Bran.

The old woman lifted her hand to his face; then, rising on tiptoes, she brushed his cheek with her dry lips. "I am proud of you, my king. Do remember that."

Prebyn returned then and received orders to tell Iwan and those in the valley fortress that the king's army was on its way. "Come back as soon as you've delivered your message," Bran told him. "There may be Ffreinc outriders around, and you do not want to be caught." Then, turning to the rest of the Grellon, he said, "You all know what to do." There were murmurs of assent all around, and some voices called out encouragements, which the king acknowledged. Then, addressing Angharad one last time, he said, "Pray for us, all of you, and let your prayers strengthen our courage and sharpen our aim."

"I will uphold you in battle with psalms and prayers and songs of power as befits a bard of Britain," Angharad said. Raising her staff, she held it crosswise in her hands and lifted it high. "Kneel before the High King of Heaven," she instructed.

Bran knelt before his Wise Banfaith, to receive her blessing. "Fear nothing, O King," she said, placing one withered hand on his head. "The Almighty and His angelic battlehost go before you. Fight well and behold the glory of the Lord."

Bran thanked his bard and commended his people to her care. Tomas passed him his longbow, and Scarlet handed him a sheaf of arrows which he tied to his belt. "Come, friends. Let's be about the day's business."

Shouldering a thick bundle of arrows each from their sizeable stockpile of begged, bought, and Grellon-made shafts, they climbed the rim of Cel Craidd's encircling rampart and started off along one of the many pathways leading into the forest. Bran had taken but half a dozen steps when he heard a heavy tread on the trail behind him. "What are you doing, Tuck? I thought we agreed you would stay here and help Angharad."

"I seem to recall that we discussed something of the sort, yes," allowed the friar. "But agreed? No, I think not."

"Tuck-"

"You leave your flock in safe hands, my lord. Angharad needs no help from me, and I will be more aid to you on the battle line." The priest patted the satchel at his side. "I am bringing cloths and such for wounds. I can serve you better at the sharp end, can I not?"

"Come, then," Bran said, shifting the bundle of arrows on his hip. "It would not do to keep King William waiting."

They marched at a steady pace, moving silently as shadows through the thick-grown trees and heavy undergrowth of bracken and tangled ivy vines and bramble canes, guided by an intimate knowledge of the greenwood's myriad trackways-many of which would be invisible to anyone who had not spent years in the wild woodlands of the March. They changed direction often, abandoning one trail for another, always working south, however, towards the King's Road.

"Do you think William Rufus himself has come?" asked Tuck.

"Perhaps," allowed Scarlet a few paces behind him. "Where you find king's men, you sometimes find a king leading them. Red William is said to like a fight."

"It would be good if he has come," Tuck observed. "Then when we sue for peace he will be ready to hand."

"Sue for peace," said Bran. "I have no intention of suing for peace."

"I was not thinking of you, my lord," replied the friar. "I was thinking of the Ffreinc. After a few days, I would not be surprised if we see a flag of truce from William's camp."

"A few days?" wondered Bran. "Tuck, bless you, we have but ten men! If we make it to the end of this day with body and soul knit together, I will count it a triumph."

"Oh, ye of little faith!" the priest scoffed, and on they went.

The land rose steadily beneath to form the long slope of the ridge that was the southern border of Elfael. At the place where the old road crested the ridge-dropping low as it passed between two steep banks of stone like a river flowing through a gorge-Bran had chosen to engage the enemy. They dropped their bundles at the foot of a high rock stack shielding them from view of the road below. While Scarlet and the others took a moment's rest, Tuck and Bran climbed the stack. On a flat rock jutting out above the road, they found Rhoddi lying on his stomach and gazing down the long southern slope towards the foot of the ridge.

"Thank God," said the warrior, squirming upright as Bran crawled up on hands and knees to join him. "Here I was thinking Prebyn had lost his way."

"Where are they?" asked Bran, squatting beside Rhoddi.

"Just there." He pointed down the slope towards a stand of oaks that grew beside the deep-rutted road. "They seem to have stopped. They've been there for a while, but they should come in sight any time now."

Tuck scrambled up at last and, lying on his belly, turned his eyes to the dark stretch of road far down the slope where the intertwining limbs still overhung the deep-sunk path. The Grellon had cleared the trees for a dozen yards on either side of the defile to give themselves a clear and unobstructed view from above.

"How many do you think there are?" asked the friar.

"I don't know," replied Rhoddi. "A fair few, I reckon."

Bran returned to where the others were waiting. "Scarlet, you and Tomas will command the other side. Llwyd and Beli," he said, referring to the two newcomers, both farmers' sons who had been added to their number following the abbot's disastrous raid, "go with Scarlet. He'll show you what to do. You'd better hurry. We don't want the Ffreinc to see you."

The four left on the run, and Bran and Owain took up an armful of bundled arrows and scrambled back up to the lookout post. "I see them!" said Tuck, pointing down the long incline. "That spot of red, there. It's moving."

"It's one of the scouts," Rhoddi told him. "They advance and fall back. They're plenty wary."

"They know we will attack," said Bran. "Trying to tempt us into showing ourselves."

"Brave men," Tuck murmured to himself.

"Brave fools," amended Owain.

"Is this the main body?" asked Bran.

"I made it three divisions," Rhoddi replied, and explained how he had worked his way down to the bottom of the ridge to see what could be learned of the king's army from that vantage. "Most are mounted, but there are a number on foot as well. And those I saw appeared but lightly armed."

"They know they will not be facing knights on horseback," surmised Bran, "so they need not overburden themselves or their animals."

Tuck backed slowly down the rocks and into a little sunny patch nearby; hitching up his robe, he knelt in the long grass and, crossing his hands over his chest, he lifted his face to the clear blue sky above and began to pray, saying, "Commander of the Heavenly Host, You are no stranger to war and fighting. I know You'd rather have peace, and I'd have it, too, if it was left to me. But You know that sometimes that en't possible, and if peace was in William's mind I don't reckon he'd be marching against us now. So, I'm asking You to think back to Your man, Moses, and how You supported him in all his wrangles with the Pharaoh-Who-Knew-Not-Joseph. Great of Might, I'm asking You to support Bran and his men today-and like You did with the Hebrew slaves when Pharaoh chased them out of Egypt, I'm asking You to drown the armies of the enemy in their own bloodlust. Last but not least, I'm asking You to ease the suffering of the wounded and, above all, to treat kindly the souls of those who will be coming to stand before You in a little while. Grant them eternal rest in Your wide kingdom for the sake of Your most Merciful Son, Our Lord Jesus."

Tuck was roused from his prayers by the sound of a trumpet-small but bright as a needle point in the quiet forest. "Amen, so be it," he whispered and, crossing himself, he picked up his staff and hauled himself back up the rocks to where Bran, Owain, and Rhoddi were waiting.

The trumpet sounded again: a single long, unwavering note.

"What is the meaning of that?" wondered Owain. "Vanity?"

"Maybe they think to frighten us," suggested Tuck.

"Take more than a pip on the horn to send a shiver up my spine," said Rhoddi. He nocked an arrow to the string, but Bran put a hand on his arm and pulled it down.

"They're still trying to get us to show ourselves so they can mark our positions," said Bran, "perhaps get some idea how large a force they will face. If they only knew how few…" He let the rest of the thought go.

The trumpet called once more, and this time the trumpeter himself rode into view. Behind him came two knights bearing banners: a blue square with three long tails of green and a cross of gold in the centre surrounded by small green crosslets. Behind them could be seen the first ranks of knights; some of these also carried banners of red and blue, some with yellow lions, some with crosses of white and red.

"Owain," said Bran, "find yourself a good position somewhere just there"-he pointed a little farther along the rock wall-"and be ready to loose on my signal." As the young warrior departed, Bran turned to the friar. "Tuck," he said, placing a bundle of arrows upright at his feet, "I want you to see that we do not run out of arrows in this first skirmish. Keep us supplied and let us know how many we have left if supplies run low."

"Good as done," said Tuck. He scuttled back down the rocks and arranged the bundles in stacks of three which he then hauled up to a place just below the archers to keep them within easy reach. By the time he rejoined Rhoddi and Bran, the Ffreinc were much closer. Tuck could make out individual faces beneath the round helmets of the knights. They rode boldly on, scanning the rocks for the first sign of attack. Some were sweating beneath their heavy mail, the water glistening in the sunlight as it dripped down their necks and into their padded leather tunics.

Both Bran and Rhoddi had arrows nocked and ready. "We'll wait until they come directly below us," Bran was saying. "The first to fall will-"

Even as he was speaking there came the whining shriek of an arrow, followed by the hard slap of an iron head striking home. In the same instant, one of the knights was thrown so far back in the saddle he toppled over the rump of his horse.

"No!" muttered Bran between clenched teeth. "Not yet. Who did that?" he demanded, looking around furiously. "Rhoddi, Tuck-did you see? Who did that?"

"There!" said Tuck. "It came from up there."

He pointed to a place where the road crested the ridge and there, four men could be seen kneeling in the middle of the road.

The Ffreinc knights saw them, too, and those in the fore rank lowered their spears, put spurs to their horses, and charged.

"Take them!" cried Bran, and before the words had left his mouth two arrows were streaking towards the attacking knights. The missiles struck sharp and fast, dropping the foemen as they passed beneath the rocky outcrop. Two more knights appeared and joined the first two in the dust of the King's Road.

The archers on the road seemed unconcerned by the commotion their appearance had caused. They calmly loosed arrow after arrow into the body of knights now halted in the road still some distance away from the place Bran had set for the ambush.

"Tuck!" said Bran, furious that his plan had been spoiled-so needlessly and so early. "Get down there and stop them. Hurry!"

While Bran and Rhoddi worked to keep the knights pinned down, Tuck scrambled back into the forest and, tearing through the undergrowth and bracken, made for the top of the ridge where the unknown archers had placed themselves.

"Hold!" he shouted, tumbling into the road. "Put up!"

"Friar Tuck!"

Tuck recognized the voice. "Brocmael! God love you, man, get out of here!"

"We saw some Ffreinc down there and thought to put the fear of God into them, Friar."

"There's a battle on," the friar told him. He glanced at the young man's companions. "Follow me before the whole Ffreinc army falls on your foolish heads."

"Greetings, Bishop Balthus," said the man nearest him.

"Ifor! Bless your unthinking head, that's King William the Red's army you've attacked, and they'll be on us like bees on honeycomb."

By the time the newcomers reached the rocks, Bran and Rhoddi were slinging arrows down into the road as fast as they could draw. Shouts and screams of men and horses crashing and thrashing echoed along the rock walls of the defile. Already, the bodies were thick on the ground. Brocmael and his companions took one look at the chaos below and joined in.

"Cenau Brocmael," said Bran as the young man came to stand beside him, "as good as it is to see you, I could have wished you'd held your water a little while longer."

"Forgive me, my lord. I did not know you were lurking hereabouts. Have we spoiled the hunt for you?"

"A little," Bran admitted, sending feathered death into the churning mass of soldiers below. "Would you have taken on the king's army by yourself?"

"I thought it was just a few knights out for a jaunt in the forest." He paused to consider. "Is it really the king's army, then?"

"The king and his many minions, yes," put in Tuck, "along with a right handsome multitude of knights and men-at-arms so they won't be lonely."

"Another sheaf, Tuck!" called Bran, loosing the last arrow from his bag.

Tuck hurried to the pile and, taking a bundle under each arm, climbed up to the archers. He opened one bundle for Bran and placed one nearby for Rhoddi, then took two more to Owain. Across the road, the arrows streaked through the sun-bright air as Scarlet and Tomas and their two farm lads loosed and loosed again in deadly rhythm. Many of the knights had quit their saddles and were trying to scale the rocks. Weighed down by their heavy mail coats, they moved slowly and were not difficult to pick off, but more and more soldiers were streaming up the hill to the fight.

"How many are with you?" Bran asked the young lord, drawing and loosing in the same breath.

"Besides Ifor-only Geronwy and Idris," answered Brocmael, "good bowmen both. I would like to have brought more, but we had to sneak away as it was."

"I expect…" Bran began, drawing and loosing again. The arrow sang from his bow into the heaving chaos below. "… that your uncle will not be best pleased."

"Then he must accustom himself to displeasure," replied the young nobleman. "It is the right and honourable thing to do."

"And now, gentlemen all," said Rhoddi, picking up his bundle of arrows, "the right and honourable thing for us to do is to leg it into the greenwood."

He started away, and Tuck risked a look down into the chasm. The dust-dry road, where it could be seen, was taking on a ruddy hue and was now made impassable by the corpses of men and horses piled upon one another. The knights and soldiers coming up from the rear were scaling the rocks in a courageous effort to get at the archers above. Even as he looked over the cliff, a spear glanced off a nearby rock, throwing sparks and chips of stone into the air before sliding back down into the road. Duly warned, Tuck scuttled back from the edge.

Bran gave out a loud, shrieking whistle and waved with his bow to Scarlet and the others on the high bank across the road in a signal to abandon the attack. And then they were running for their lives into the deep-shadowed safety of the greenwood.