tone, he added, “Think, man. There has been enough killing today. Bring the abbot and let him surrender and put an end to the bloodshed.”
Bran lifted the sword in his hand and, from their saddles, the archers on either flank bent the bellies of their longbows.
Guy hesitated a moment more, then called out, “Sergeant Jeremias, do as he says. Fetch the abbot.”
“Prudence is a virtue,” Tuck muttered under his breath as he watched the sergeant dart up the stone steps of the tower, “and wisdom is gained through trials of many kinds.”
“Most always too late,” added Scarlet.
There followed a tense and uneasy interval in which both sides glared across the square at one another. Captain Aloin, seeing that there were but six Cymry archers, one ragged monk, and an unarmed translator, was for rushing them on the chance that his few healthy knights might overwhelm them. “We can take them,” Aloin whispered. “At most they’ll only get an arrow or two off before we cut them down.”
“Yes, and it’s the first arrow that kills you,” replied Marshal Guy. “Have you already forgotten what happened at the farm?”
“It is madness to deal with them.”
“That is as may be,” granted Gysburne. “But do you really want to add another slaughter to your tally today? It is the abbot they want. So, we let him decide.”
At last the abbot appeared, and owing to the look of stunned horror on his face he hardly seemed the same man. Clearly, the last thing he expected of this day was to find his enemy standing in the town square delivering demands of capitulation. But that was how things stood.
“Bouchers!” he snarled as he came striding up, trying to rouse his innate defiance. “Les meurtres!”
“Pax l’abbé!” shouted Bran across the yard. “Your life and those of your men is in our hands. Be quiet and listen if you want that life to continue another breath longer.”
Alan relayed these words to the abbot, who subsided. “Ask him what he wants—my head on a silver platter, I suppose?”
Bran smiled when he heard this, and replied, “No, Abbot. Your head is worth less than the trouble it would take to carve it from your scabby shoulders. But here is what I want: you are to lay down your arms and leave Elfael—you and all your men, and any of the townsfolk who choose to go with you.”
Alan translated Bran’s demand, and the abbot’s face darkened.
“See here!” he protested. “You have no ri—”
“You sent soldiers against me today, and the issue has been decided. I claim the victor’s right to the spoils. If you would keep your life, you must leave this place and never return.”
“Allow me a moment to confer with my commander,” said the abbot when Alan had finished. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Marshal Gysburne. “Idiot, do something—you just stand there. Attack! Kill them.”
“The first man to advance against them is dead where he stands, my lord abbot,” replied Guy. “So, please, by all means lead the way.”
“But they cannot get away with this—just like that.”
“Just like that? They’ve killed nearly forty of our men today already, priest!” Gysburne’s voice was an ugly growl. “Are you blind as well as stupid? Look around you. The soldiers you see on their feet are all we have left. How many more must die to satisfy your insane ambitions?”
The abbot gazed around at his sorely beaten troops, as if seeing them for the first time. “This is all we have left?”
“Every last one,” replied Gysburne.
“Where are the rest?”
“Either dead or dying—and I’m not joining them. Not like this. Not today.”
“The marshal is right, Abbot,” conceded Captain Aloin at last. “Make the best bargain you can, and we’ll go back to the king and raise a force large enough to vanquish these bandits for once and all. We were beaten today, but the war is not over. We live to fight again.”
Bran, having permitted them to speak freely, signalled Alan to bring the discussion to an end. “Enough!” he called. “What is it to be? Lord Bran says you must give your answer now.”
Abbot Hugo drew himself up to full height. He lifted his head, some of the old defiance returning. “I agree to nothing,” he announced, “until you accept our conditions.”
“What conditions?” Bran asked, when Alan informed him of the abbot’s reply. “Perhaps you will accept the same conditions you offered those farm families this morning?”