The earl listened, his interest piqued. “No finer horses than mine, I’ll warrant,” he suggested when Alan finished. “I’d like to see them. Did you bring any with you?”
“Alas no, Lord,” answered Alan, without waiting to consult his master. “They are very valuable animals, as you must imagine, and could not be allowed to make a voyage, however short.”
“A pity,” replied Hugh. “I should like to have seen them in the flesh. My own horses have been praised by those who know a good animal when they see one. I’ll show them to you, eh?”
Alan turned his head to receive the count’s decision, then said, “My lord would like nothing more than to have the pleasure of viewing your excellent animals.”
“Then let’s be at it!” said Hugh, hoisting himself from his chair with the aid of the board before him. Calling for his seneschal, he motioned his visitors to follow and bowled from the hall with a lurching, unsteady gait.
“We’re well on our way, men,” Bran whispered. To Ifor and Brocmael, he said, “This next part will be in your hands. Are you ready?” Both young men nodded. “Good.” To Tuck, he added, “Tell Alan—”
“My lord,” said Alan, with a fishy grin at Tuck, “it is not necessary, as I speak a fair bit of Cymry, too, ye ken?”
“You do amaze me,” Bran confessed. “I begin to believe you were born to this.”
“Just where did you learn to speak like that?” Tuck wondered. “I mean no offence, but you spoke like a roadside beggar before we passed through these gates.”
Alan lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “It is useful for the earnin’ o’ a penny or two,” he said, putting on the rough speech again as easily as a man putting on a hat. “A wanderin’ musician is a pitiful lump without his harp.”
“Wandering musician,” echoed Tuck. “A minstrel?”
“If ye like,” said Alan.
“How did you lose your harp?” the friar asked.
“Let’s just say some lords appreciate a jest more’n others, ye ken?”
Bran laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I want you to stay with us while we’re here—will you do that? I’ll reward you well. Perhaps when this is over we can even find you a harp.”
“I am honoured, Sire,” the beggar answered.
“Here now!” called Earl Hugh from a doorway across the way. “This way to the stables.”
“Let the hunt begin,” said Bran, and the four Spanish noblemen and their interpreter hurried to join their host.
CHAPTER 15
Cél Craidd
Mérian held the long smooth length of ash between her fingers and carefully wrapped the thin rawhide strap in a tight spiral around the end, placing the clipped halves of stripped feathers from a goose’s wing just so as she slowly turned the rounded shaft. Half her mind was on her task—fletching arrows required patience and dexterity, but consumed little thought—and the other half of her mind was on the worrying news that had reached them the night before.
The news had come after nightfall. Mérian and Noín and two of the other women were tending to the evening meal, and the rest of Cél Craidd was still at work: some trimming and shaping branches of ash and yew for war bows, or assisting Siarles in splitting narrow lengths of oak for arrows; two of the women were weaving hemp and linen for strings, and Tomas was helping Angharad affix the steel points. Scarlet and his small host of warriors—two of the younger women and three of the older children—were hard at work training to the longbow—they would practice until it was too dark to see. And any who were not busy with either bows or arrows were tending the bean field. The forest round about was sinking into a peaceful and pleasant autumn twilight.
And then they heard the long, low whistle that signalled the return of the scouts—those who had been away all day watching the King’s Road. A few moments later, Rhoddi and Owain tumbled breathless down the bank and into the settlement bearing the news: Sheriff de Glanville had returned with upwards of fifty knights.
“They came quick and they came quiet,” Rhoddi said when he had swallowed a few mouthfuls of water and splashed a cup over his head. “It was already getting dark, and they were on us before we knew it or we would have prepared a welcome for them.”
“Where’s Iwan?” asked Siarles, already halfway to flying off to his aid.
“He stayed to watch and see if any more came along,”