Bran knelt before his Wise Banfáith, 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 Cél 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