around the sound came again and he saw Iwan furiously gesturing towards the far hilltop. He looked where the big man was pointing and saw two mounted knights poised on the crest of the hill.
The soldiers were watching the fleeing procession and, for the moment, seemed content to observe. Then one of the knights wheeled his mount and disappeared back down the far side of the hill.
Bran had seen it too, and began shouting. “Run!” he cried, racing down the road. “To the grove!” he told Mérian and Tuck. “The Ffreinc are going to attack!”
He flew to meet Iwan and Siarles at the bottom of the hill.
“I’d best go see if I can help,” Tuck said, and leaving Mérian to hurry the people along, he fell into step behind Bran.
“Just the two of them?” Bran asked as he came running to meet Siarles and Iwan.
“So far,” replied the champion. “No doubt the one’s gone to alert the rest. Siarles and I will take a stand here,” he said, bending the long ashwood bow to string it. “That will give you and Tuck time to get the rest of the folk safely hidden in the woods.”
Bran shook his head. “It may come to that one day, but not today.” His tone allowed no dissent. “We have a little time yet. Get everyone into the wood—carry them if you have to. We’ll dig ourselves into the grove and make Gysburne and his hounds come in after us.”
“I make it six bows against thirty knights,” Siarles pointed out. “Good odds, that.”
Bran gave a quick jerk of his chin. “Good as any,” he agreed. “Fetch along the stragglers and follow me.”
Iwan and Siarles darted away and were soon rushing the last of the lagging Grellon up the hill to the grove. “What do you want me to do?” Tuck shouted.
“Pray,” answered Bran, pulling an arrow from the sheaf at his belt and fitting it to the string. “Pray God our aim is true and each arrow finds its mark.”
Bran moved off, calling for the straggling Grellon to find shelter in the wood. Tuck watched him go. Pray? he thought. Aye, to be sure—the Good Lord will hear from me. But I will do more, will I not? Then he scuttled up the hill and into the wood in search of a good stout stick to break some heads.
CHAPTER 2
Swift and furtive as wild things, the women and children disappeared into the deep-shadowed grove. Bran called all the men together at the edge of the wood. “We have six bows,” he said. “Iwan, Siarles, Tomas, Rhoddi . . .” He paused, eyeing the men gathered around him, assessing their abilities. His gaze lit on one of the eager young men who had joined the Grellon following the loss of his family’s home to the Ffreinc. “You, Owain, will join me. I want a guard with each bowman to watch his back and retrieve any arrows that fall within easy reach. So now, archers and guards come with me. The rest of you go with Tuck and help protect the others.”
“If any of the Ffreinc get in behind us,” Bran told him, “you’ll have your hands full right enough. Tuck will tell you what to do.”
As Bran turned to lead his small group of archers to their places at the edge of the grove, a hand reached out and halted him. “Lend me a bow. I can draw.”
“We want to fight too,” said one of the men, speaking up.
Bran turned and shook his head. “I know, Will—when you’re healed and practiced.”
“Even crippled as I am I’d wager I can still draw better than anyone here—saving only yourself, my lord.”
“No doubt,” Bran allowed, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “But let be today, Will.” Bran’s eyes slid past Will to Noín and Nia, and the young, round-shouldered, whey-faced Ffreinc monk hovering a few steps away. “Look after your family and your friend here—and take care of Angharad. See that none of them come to harm. That will be help enough.”
Bran hurried away to join the archers, and Will turned to the worried young monk behind him. “Come along, Odo,” he said. “Follow Noín and help her see to the old woman and her horse, and look sharp, unless you want Abbot Hugo to get his hands on you again.”
They hurried to join the others in the hollow, and Tuck gathered the rest. “This way!” he called, and led his crew of seven unarmed warriors to a