the hail of shafts. If, however, the knights survived the charge and carried the attack forward, he would come in hard to protect the archers’ retreat.
“Come on, you ugly frog-faced knaves . . .” muttered Scarlet. He stretched and flexed the stiffness from his injured hand, then plucked a shaft from the ground and nocked it to the string. “. . . a little closer and you’re mine.”
Other men were speaking now—some in prayer, and others in derision of the enemy, banking courage in themselves and those around them. Bran stood silent, watching the slow, steady advance of the Ffreinc line. He suddenly found himself wishing Angharad were alive to see this day. He missed her and the knowledge that she was upholding him in her mysterious and powerful way. Closing his eyes, he prayed that she was gazing down on him and would intercede with the angels of war on his behalf and sustain him in the battle.
He was still occupied with this thought when he heard Gruffydd say, “Here, now! What’s this?”
Bran opened his eyes to see that the Ffreinc had halted just out of easy arrow flight. The early sun glinted off the polished surfaces of their shields and weapons. There was a movement from the centre, and the line broke, parting to the left and right as a small body of knights rode forward. Two of the riders carried banners—one bearing the royal standard of King William: a many-tailed flag with a red cross on a white field and a strip of ermine across the bottom separating the body from the green, blue, and yellow tails. The other knight bore the standard of England: the Cross of Jerusalem in gold surrounded by smaller crosslets of blue; its tails were green, gold and blue, each tail ending in small gold tassels.
These banners preceded a single knight, riding between them. Two more knights followed the lone rider, and all advanced to a point halfway between the two armies, and there they halted.
“Saints and angels,” said Gruffydd, “what’s the old devil about?”
“I think Bloody William wants to talk,” replied Llewelyn.
“I say we give him an arrow in the eye and let that do our talking for us,” declared Gruffydd. He nudged Llewelyn beside him. “Your aim is true, Cousin; let fly and we’ll see that rascal off right smart.”
“No!” said Tuck, pressing forward. “Begging your pardon, my lords, I do believe he wants to beg terms of peace.”
“Peace!” scoffed Gruffydd. “Never! The old buzzard wants to sneak us into a trap, more like. I say give him an arrow or two and teach him to keep his head down.”
“My lord,” pleaded Tuck, “if it is peace he wants, it would be the saving of many lives.”
Bran gazed across the distance at the king, sitting on his fine horse, his newly burnished armour glinting in the golden light of a brilliant new day. “If he does want to talk,” Bran decided at last, “it will cost us nothing to hear what he has to say. We can attack as soon as the discussion is concluded.” He turned to Gruffydd. “I will talk to him. You and Llewelyn be ready to lead the assault if things go badly.” He motioned to Will Scarlet, saying, “Come with me, Will. And you, too, Tuck—your French is better than mine.”
“Baron Neufmarché speaks French better than any of us,” Tuck pointed out. “Send for him.”
“Maybe later,” allowed Bran. “We’ll see if there’s anything worth talking about first.”
Together the three of them walked down the grassy slope to where the king of England had established himself between his billowing standards.
“Perhaps the friar is right,” suggested Will Scarlet. “It would not hurt to have Neufmarché with us.”
“We will call him if we need him,” allowed Bran.
“William speaks English,” Tuck told them.
“Does he indeed?” said Bran.
“A little, anyway—more than he’ll admit to.”
“Then we will insist,” Bran decided. “That way we can all be very careful about what we say to one another.”
They came to within fifty paces of the knights on horseback. “Mon roi,” said Bran, with a glancing nod of respect. “Parlerez-vous?”
“Oui,” replied King William. “Je veux vous parler de la paix.”
“He wants to talk to you about making peace,” said Tuck.
“Bon,” said Bran. To Tuck, he said, “Tell him that we will speak in English and that you will relay my words to him.”
Tuck did as he was commanded, and a strange expression passed over the king’s face. “You,” he said. “Have I seen you before?”