dwellers, and Iwan stepped forward. “Welcome, my lord,” he said, his voice booming in the quiet. “It is good to have you back safely. I trust your journey was successful.”
“Your trust is misplaced,” snapped Bran. “We failed.” Still searching among the Grellon, he said, “Mérian . . . where is she, Iwan?”
The big warrior paused, looking thoughtful. “Mérian is not here,” he said at last. “She left and went back to Eiwas.”
Before Bran could ask more, the champion gestured to someone in the crowd of onlookers, and Noín stepped forward. “Tell him what happened,” Iwan instructed.
Noínina made a small bow of greeting to her king and said, “It is true, my lord. Mérian went home.” She folded her hands into the apron at her waist. “It was in her mind to go and ask her father to send men to aid us in the fight against the Ffreinc.”
“I see,” Bran replied coldly. “When did she leave?”
“Two days after you departed for the north.”
“Who went with her?”
“My lord,” said Noín, a note of anxiety rising in her voice, “she went alone.”
“Alone!” Turning on Iwan, he demanded, “You let her go alone?” When the big man made no reply, Bran glanced around at the others. “Did no one think to go with her?”
“We did not know she was going,” Iwan explained. “I would have prevented her, of course. But she told no one of her intentions and left before anyone knew she was gone.”
“Someone knew, by the rood,” Bran observed, indicating the worried Noín before him.
“Forgive me, my lord, but she made me promise not to say anything until after she had gone,” Noín said, looking down at her feet. “I did try to persuade her otherwise, but she would not hear it.”
“I was halfway down the trail for going after her,” said Will Scarlet, pushing forward to stand beside his wife. “Would’a gone, too, but by the time we found out, it was too late. Mérian was already home, and if anything was going to happen to her . . .” He paused. “Well, I reckoned it already did.”
Bran took this in, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. “I leave you in charge, Iwan,” he snarled. “And this is how my trust is repaid? I am—”
“Peace!” said Angharad, speaking from a few steps behind him. Pushing through the gathered throng of welcomers, the Wise Banfáith planted herself in front of him. “This is not seemly, my lord. Your people have given you good greeting and the same would receive from their king.” She fixed him with a commanding stare until Bran remembered himself and, in a somewhat stilted fashion, thanked his champion and others for keeping Cél Craidd in his absence.
Tuck, drawing near, gave Bran a nudge with his elbow and indicated Alan a’Dale standing a short distance apart from the group, ignored and unremarked. So Bran introduced the Grellon to Alan a’Dale and instructed his flock to make the newcomer feel at home among them. Having satisfied courtesy, Bran retreated to his hut, saying he wished to be left in peace to rest after his journey.
“Rest you will have,” said Angharad, following him into the hut.
“But not from you, I see.”
“Not from me—and not until you learn that berating those who have given good service is beneath one who would account himself a worthy king. Angry with Mérian you may be—”
“She disobeyed me—”
“She must have had good reason, think you?”
“We discussed it and I told her not to go,” Bran complained, throwing himself into his hide-and-antler chair. “Yet the moment my back is turned, what does she do?”
“Your Lady Mérian is a woman of great determination and resourcefulness; she is not one to be easily dominated by others.” Angharad gazed at him, her eyes alight within their wreath of familiar wrinkles. “It is her own mind she has followed—”
“She has disobeyed me,” Bran said.
“This it is that tears at you?” replied the banfáith. “Or is it that she might have been right to go?” Before Bran could answer, she said, “It matters not, for now there is nothing to be done about it.”
Bran glared at her but knew that pursuing this argument any further would avail him nothing.
“Too late you show the wisdom of silence,” Angharad observed. “So now, if you would put away childish things, tell me what happened in the north.”
Bran frowned and passed a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the memory. He gave a brief account of finding the king