He hurried off along the darkened path, and it was all I could do to keep up with him. His long legs carried him by fast strides—and his sight, even in the dark, led him unerringly along a path that could no longer be seen. I struggled along, slipping and sliding in his footsteps, trying to avoid the branches and twigs that whipped back in my face. After a time, Bran slowed his pace; the trees were closer here, the wood more dense and the snow less deep on the path. We moved along at a much improved pace until we arrived at a place far from the road and where we had last seen the sheriff ’s men.
Bran paused and put his hand back to halt me. He hesitated, and then I heard Iwan’s voice murmur something, and Bran stepped from the trail and into a small, snug clearing that had been hewn from the dense undergrowth beside the trail. A fire burned brightly in the centre of this bower and, aside from Iwan and Siarles, there were five of the Grellon huddled close around the flames. They all rose when Bran stepped through the brush, and welcomed him. They made room for us by the fire, but before Bran sat down, he spoke to each one personally, telling them how pleased he was of their accomplishments this day.
Aside from the men, there were two women from Cél Craidd. They had prepared barley cakes and a little mulled ale to help draw the chill from our bones, so while Bran spoke to the others, I sat down and soon had my frozen fingers wrapped around a steaming jar. “We were getting worried,” said Siarles, settling down beside me. “I might have known there would be trouble.”
“A little,” I confessed. “The sheriff turned up and took it into his head to have us give some of his men a run through the wood.”
“The sheriff ? Are you certain?”
“Oh, aye, it was himself. I challenged him, and he tried to talk me into giving myself up for a hanging.” I sipped my hot ale. “Tempting as it was, I declined the offer and made one of my own. I decorated his fine cloak with arrow points.”
Siarles regarded me in the firelight with a look approaching appreciation. “Did you kill him, then?”
“I drew on him, but did not loose.”
“Weeping Judas, why not?”
“King Raven prevented me,” I replied. “He appeared just as I was about to let fly, and we’ve been running ever since. And now that I think of it, why did no one tell me about the treewalks and ladders?”
Siarles grinned readily. “Oh, that—well, it’s a secret we like to keep to ourselves as much as possible. A man’s life could depend on it.”
“As my own did this selfsame night. It would have cheered me no end to know I wasn’t about to end my days with a Norman spear in my back.”
“So, now you know.”
“Now I know,” I agreed. “One of these days, I’ll thank you to show me which of the other trails have been prepared this way and which trees.”
“Oaks,” replied Siarles, taking the jar from me and helping himself to a sip.
“Oaks,” I repeated, taking the cup back.
“It’s always oak trees,” Iwan confirmed. “Look for a dangling vine. As for the trails, we’ll show you next time we come out. But that won’t be for a while now. We will let the trail grow cold.”
“It is plenty cold now,” I said, quaffing down a hearty gulp. “If the snow keeps up, by morning you won’t be able to tell anyone passed this way at all.”
Iwan nodded and stood abruptly. “Nóinina!” he called. “A dry cloak for our man here.”
One of the women turned away from the fire and withdrew a bundle from a wicker basket they had brought. She came around the ring to where I sat, untied the bundle, and shook out a clean, dry cloak. “Oooh,” she cooed gently, “let me get that cold wet thing off you before you take a death.”
Leaning over me, she deftly untied the laces and lifted off the wet garment; the cold air hit my damp clothes and I shivered. She spread the dry cloak over my shoulders and rubbed my back with her hands so as to warm me. “There now,” she said, “you’ll be warm and dry that soon.”
“Many thanks,” I said, craning my head around to see her better. It was the woman who