away!” shouted Bran, wielding the oar over his sputtering charges.
Using the poles, Alan and Brocmael began easing the cog away from the dock. As the ship floated free, Ifor grabbed the tiller and tried to steer the vessel into deeper water in the centre of the stream. The ship began to move. “Bran!” shouted Tuck. “Now!”
Bran gave a last thrust with the oar and threw it into the water. Then, with a running jump, he leapt from the dock onto the deck of the ship. He was no sooner aboard than a howling arose from the wharf; he turned to see the three hounds pacing along the edge of the dock and barking.
“Come!” called Bran, slapping the side of the vessel. “Come on, lads! Jump!”
The dogs needed no further encouragement. They put their heads down and ran for the ship, bounded across the widening gap, and fell onto the deck in a tangle of legs and tails. Bran laughed and dived in among them. They licked his hands and face, and he returned their affection, giving them each a chuck around the ears and telling them what good, brave dogs they were.
“You’ve stolen the earl’s hounds,” Brocmael said, amazed at Bran’s audacity—considering the high price Wolf Hugh set on his prize animals.
“Hounds?” said Ifor. “We’ve stolen a whole ship entire!”
“The ship will be returned,” Bran told them, still patting the nearest dog. “But the hounds we keep—they’ll help us to remember our pleasant days hunting with the earl. Anyway, we’ve left him our horses—a fair enough trade, I reckon.”
“Does anyone know how to sail a ship of this size?” wondered Alan.
“Maybe the lads there can help us,” Tuck said, regarding the boys—who were thoroughly amazed at what had taken place and were enjoying it in spite of themselves. “Maybe they know how to sail it.”
“We don’t have to sail it,” Bran countered. “We’ll let the tideflow carry us downriver as far as the next settlement and try to pick up a pilot there. Until then, Ifor, you and your two young friends will man the tiller and see you keep us in the stream flow and off the bank. Can you do that?”
“I’ve seen it done,” replied the young man.
“Then take us home,” said Bran. Ifor called the two young crewmen to him and, with an assortment of signs and gestures, showed them what they were to do. Bran crossed to where Gruffydd was sitting against the side of the ship, knees up and his head resting on his arms.
“Are you well, my lord?” Bran said, squatting down beside him.
“My blasted head hurts,” he complained. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”
“Perhaps not,” Bran allowed. “But then, you did not give us much choice.”
The king offered a grunt of derision and lowered his head once more. “You will feel better soon,” Bran told him, rising once more. “And when we cross over into Wales you’ll begin to see things in a better light.”
Gruffydd made no reply, so Bran left him alone to nurse his aching head. Meanwhile, Tuck and Brocmael had begun searching the hold of the ship to see what it carried by way of provisions. “We have cheese, dried meat, and a little ale.”
“We’ll pick up more when we stop. Until then, fill the cups, Tuck! I feel a thirst coming on.”
PART FOUR
“O cowardly dastard!” Will Scadlocke exclaim’d.
“Thou faint-hearted, sow-mothered reeve!
If ever my master doth deign thee to meet,
Thou shalt thy full paiment receive!”
Then Rhiban Hud, setting his horn to his mouth,
A blast he merrily blows;
His yeomen from bushes and treetops appeared,
A hundred, with trusty longbows.
And Little John came at the head of them all,
Cloath’d in a rich mantle, green;
And likewise the others were fancif ’ly drest,
A wonderous sight to be seen.
Forth from the greenwoode about they are come,
With hearts that are firm and e’er stout,
Pledging them all with the sheriff ’s yeomen
To give them a full hearty bout.
And Rhiban the Hud has removéd his cloak,
And the sheriff has uttered an oath,
And William now smites him on top of his pate
and swift exit is now made by both.
“Little I thought,” quod Scadlocke eft-soon,
“When I first came to this place,
For to have met with dear Little John,
Or again see my master’s fine face.”
CHAPTER 23
It is a grand day, my lord Bran,” Llewelyn proclaimed, grinning blearily through a haze of brown ale. “A grand and glorious day. Though it shames me to admit it, I never hoped to see our Gruffydd on his throne again. No, I never did.