hale and hearty to help and told them where to go, and when.
Tuck decided that he would best be served by a new staff, so took himself into the wood to find a sturdy branch of ash which he cut to length and then shaped. As he worked, he found great satisfaction in reciting a few of the Psalms that the young Israelite warrior David composed when seeking deliverance from his many enemies.
By the time the sun began its long, slow plunge into the western sea, all was ready. The raiders, eight in all, departed for the ford to meet the spies. Alan and Noín were already waiting at the forest’s edge when they arrived. Will Scarlet was the first to see them and ran to where the two sat beside the stream near the ford. “Is all well?” he asked, and received a brushing kiss by way of answer from his wife.
“No one paid us any heed at all,” Alan told them. “Why would they? We were just two humble folk attending the market, ye ken?”
“Well and good,” said Bran. “So now, what did you discover?”
“It is true the town is full of Ffreinc,” began Alan, “but they trust their numbers a little too much, it seems to me.” He went on to explain that the soldiers were everywhere to be seen—at the entrance to the town square, before the abbey gate, clustered around the guardhouse tower—but almost to a man they appeared bored and lax. “You can see those fellas idling here and there, dicin’ and drinkin’ and what-all. They swagger around like little emperors all, and most of them don’t carry weapons—maybe a dagger only.”
“No doubt they know where to find a ready blade smart enough when pressed to it,” observed Iwan.
“Oh, no doubt,” agreed Alan readily. “But I’m just saying what I saw.”
“What about the sheriff ?” asked Will. “Did you see that rat-faced spoiler?”
“I did not,” answered Alan. “Neither hide nor hair. Plenty of soldiers though, as I say.”
“You found where they keep the supplies?” asked Bran.
“We did, Lord,” answered Alan. Looking to Noín, he nodded. “Noín here did that easy as please and be thanked.”
“I went to the church when they rang the bell for the midday mass,” Noín reported. “There were but a few townsfolk and a merchant or two, so I knelt in the back and waited for the service to finish. Then I followed the monks to the abbey, pretending that I was hungry and in need of food for myself and my poor starving children three.”
“You told them that?” said Scarlet, chagrined at the barest suggestion that he was no fit provider for his family.
“It was only pretence,” she said lightly. “But I have been pared near enough to the bone to know how it feels. To their credit the priests took pity on me and let me inside the abbey walls. I was made to wait in the yard while they fetched a few provisions.”
“And you saw where these were kept?” said Siarles.
“Oh, aye—made sure of it. There is a granary behind the bishop’s house. It looks new to me—wattled and thatched like a barn, but smaller.”
“They brought you food from these stores?” asked Tuck. “You saw this?”
“Aye, they did—brought me some grain and a rind of salt pork,” Noín told him, “and a handful of dried beans. There was plenty more whence that came, believe me.”
“There must be,” mused Iwan, “if they are about giving away food to needy Cymry.”
“At least,” suggested Siarles, “they are not over-worried about running out of provisions anytime soon.”
“They will be running out sooner than they know,” said Bran. “What else?”
The raiding party listened to all that Alan and Noín had to say about the troops and stores. When they finished, Bran praised their good service and sent them on their way back to Cél Craidd, saying, “Tell the others we’re going ahead with the raid. If all goes well, we will return before dawn.”
So Alan and Noín continued on their way, and the raiding party settled down to wait, watching a pale blue velvet dusk settle over the Vale of Elfael below. The stars winked on one by one, and the raiders sat and talked, their voices a low murmur barely audible above the liquid splash of the nearby stream.
It is so beautiful, thought Tuck, so peaceful. “Ach, fy enaid,” he sighed.
“Second thoughts, Friar?” asked Siarles, sliding down beside him.
“Never that, boyo,” replied Tuck. “But it does seem a very shame to