it is. But a fox, now a fox is nimble as a shadow and just as silent. A fox works quick and so frightens the flock that none of them lets out a peep. With a fox in the barn, no one knows the deed is done till you walk in and find ’em all in a heap of blood and feathers.”
Odo bristles at this. “Are you saying the sheriff hanged two innocent men?”
“I don’t know that they were innocent, mind, but de Glanville hanged two men for the same crime that neither could have done.”
Odo shakes his head. “Hearsay,” he decides. “Hearsay and slander and lies.”
“That’s right,” I say. “You just keep telling yourself that, priest. Keep on a-saying it until they find a reason to tighten the rope around your fine plump neck, and then we’ll see how you sing.”
CHAPTER 15
The snow continued through the night and over the next days, covering all, drifting deep on field and forest, hilltop and valley throughout Elfael. As soon as the hard weather eased up a little, we fetched the captured spoils back to Cél Craidd, along with the four oxen kept in a pen not far from the road, trusting to the windblown snow to remove any traces of our passing. We kept a right keen watch for the sheriff and his scabby men, but saw neither hank nor hair of them, and so hurried about our chores. The wagons we dismantled where they stood, keeping only the wheels and iron fittings; the animals were more useful, to be sure. One we kept to pull the plough in the spring; the others would be given to farmers in the area to replace those lost in one way or another to the Ffreinc.
It was the same with the money. Bran did not keep what he got from the raid, but shared it out among the folk of his realm, helping those who were most in need of it—and there were plenty of them, I can tell you. For the Normans had been in Elfael going on two years by then, and however bad it was in the beginning it was much worse now. Always worse with that hell crew, never better. So, the money was given out, and those who received it blessed King Raven and his men.
Oh, but that great gold ring began to weigh heavy on the slender strap around Bran’s princely neck. Worth a king’s ransom it was, and we all stoked a secret fear that one day the Red King himself would come after it with an army. We were all atwist over this when Friar Tuck showed up.
I had heard his name by then, and some few things about him—how he had helped Bran in his dealings with the king and cardinal. But whatever I had heard did nothing to prepare me for the man himself. Part imp, part oaf, part angel—that is Friar Tuck.
His arrival was announced in the usual way: one of the sentries gave out the shrill whistle of a crake. This warned the Grellon that someone was coming and that this visitor was welcome. An intruder would have demanded a very different call. For those few who were allowed to come and go, however, there was a simple rising whistle. Well, we heard the signal, and folk stopped whatever they were doing and turned towards the blasted oak to see who would appear through the hedge. A few moments later, a fat little dumpling rolled down the bank, red face shining with a sheen of sweat despite the chill in the air, the hem of his robe hiked up and stuffed in his belt to keep it from dragging through the snow.
“Happy Christ-tide!” he called when he saw all the folk hurrying to greet him. “It is good to see you, Iwan! Siarles! Gaenor, Teleri, Henwydd!” He called out the names of folk he knew. “Good to see you! Peace to one and all!”
“Tuck!” shouted Siarles, hurrying to greet him. “Hail and welcome! With all this snow, we did not think to see you again until the spring.”
“And where should I be at Christ-tide, but with my own dear friends?”
“No bag this time?”
“Bag? I’ve brought half of Hereford with me!” He gestured vaguely toward the trail. “There’s a pack mule coming along. Rhoddi met me on the trail and sent me on ahead.”
Bran and Mérian appeared then, and Angharad was not far behind. The little friar was welcomed with laughter and true