of the wall of stones, a strange, dark shape that in the green half-light of the forest seemed far more shadow than substance: a great, bird-shaped creature with the body of a man and the wings of a raven, with a naked, round, skull-like head and a long, wickedly sharp beak. This phantom moved with uncanny grace among the rocks, pausing now and again to utter its scream as a challenge to the wary, half-frightened soldiers on the ground.
One of the knights took up the challenge and, rearing back, loosed his spear, lofting it with a mighty heave up at the strange creature sliding among the rocks. The bravely launched spear struck the smooth face of a boulder, and the iron tip sparked. At the same moment, a black arrow sang out from the dark recess of the stones, struck the knight, and with a sound like the crack of a whip, threw him onto his back, dead before his body came to rest in the bracken.
It took a moment for the rest of the knights to realize what had happened, and by then it was too late. Three more arrows sped to their marks with lethal accuracy, dropping the enemy in their tracks.
The phantom of the greenwood gave out a last, triumphant scream and disappeared once more as the arrows began to fly thick and fast, filling the air with their hateful hiss. The Ffreinc fell back and back again, stumbling over one another, over themselves, over the corpses of the dead to escape the feathered death assailing them from the rocks. Those still coming up from behind choked off the escape, holding their unlucky comrades in place, thus sealing their fate.
And then it was over. The last soldier, an arrow in his thigh, pulled himself into the undergrowth, and all that could be heard was the clatter of the Ffreinc knights in full-tilt retreat . . . and then only the distant croak of gathering crows and the soft, whimpering moans of the dying.
CHAPTER 36
Coed Cadw
The war between Bran ap Brychan and King William for the throne of Elfael continued as it began—with short, sharp skirmishes in which the Grellon unleashed a whirlwind of stinging death before disappearing into the deep-shadowed wood. These small battles were fought down in the leafy trenches of greenwood trails, down amongst roots and boles of close-grown trees and the thick-tangled undergrowth where Ffreinc warhorses could not go and swords were difficult to swing. The Welsh rebels struck fast and silently; sometimes it seemed to the beleaguered knights that the Cymry materialized out of the redolent forest air. The first warning they had was the fizzing whine of an arrow and the crack of the shaft striking leather and breaking bone.
And although there was never any telling when or where the dreaded attack would come, the result was always the same: arrow-pierced dead, and wounded Norman soldiers lurching dazed along the narrow trackways of the greenwood.
After a few disastrous running battles, the Ffreinc knights, whose fighting lives were spent on horseback, quickly lost all interest in facing King Raven and his men in the dense forest and on foot. In this, Coed Cadw lived up to its name—the Guardian Wood—providing the rebels with an immense and all-but impenetrable defensive bulwark against an enemy whose numbers far exceeded their own many times over.
Without the use of their horses, and forced to traverse unknown and difficult terrain, the knights’ supreme effectiveness as a weapon of war became nothing more than a blunt and broken stub of a blade. They might thrash and hack along the borders of the wood but could do little real damage, and the elusive King Raven remained beyond their reach.
Still, the king of England was determined to bring this rebel Welsh cantref to heel. He insisted that his commanders pursue the fight wherever they could. Even so, rather than send yet more men to certain death in the forest, they made endless sorties along the road and told themselves that at least they controlled the supply route and enforced the peace for travellers. King Raven was more than happy to grant William the rule of the road, since it allowed his archers time to rest and the Grellon to make more arrows and increase their stockpile.
As it became clear that there would be no easy victory over King Raven in the forest, King William moved to take the Vale of Elfael. The Ffreinc army set up encampment in the valley between