our request in a different light.”
“How so?” asked Llewelyn, doing what he could to help.
“The Ffreinc forces are few in number,” Tuck said, still holding himself between the increasingly angry lords, “and poorly supplied. We have seen to that, have we not? For though we are few in number, living rough in the greenwood on pitiful fare, with families and little ’uns to keep—even so, we have pressed them hard these last two years and more, and they are bent that near to breaking. All it needs is some stout warriors, a few fresh fighters, a last battle or two—a final push over the edge and the thing is done.”
“How long would you need the use of the men?” asked Llewelyn.
“A month perhaps,” said Bran quickly. “The Ffreinc do not have enough soldiers to make a lengthy campaign. It would be finished in a month—no more. That is little enough, it seems to me.”
“Alas,” rued Gruffydd, unmoved, “even that little is too much. I wish I could help.”
“My lord, I urge you to reconsider,” pleaded Llewelyn. “A month, mind you. Surely, it is not beyond our ability to aid them in this—”
His entreaty was cut short by a curt gesture from his king. “I have spoken.” Gruffydd turned and stepped towards the door. “My friends,” he said, adopting a stiffly formal air even as he clutched the doorpost to steady himself, “you are most welcome to remain with me as long as you like. I am happy for your company. Nevertheless, we will not speak of this again.”
With that, the king returned to the celebration.
“Come, Tuck,” said Bran, watching Gruffydd through the open door as the king moved among his kinsmen and friends, embracing some, sharing the cup with others. “We will not remain here a moment longer than it takes to scrape the dung of this miserable place off our feet.”
“My lord,” said Llewelyn, deeply embarrassed by his king’s behaviour, “do not be overhasty. Stay a little longer—a few days only—and we will yet change his mind. I will summon the lords to council with the king, and he will be persuaded. On my word, you will yet have your just reward.”
“If only you were king, Llewelyn,” replied Bran darkly. Then, remembering himself, he softened his tone and said, “You have shown me honour and respect, and I thank you for that. Nor do I hold Gruffydd’s ingratitude against you. But I see now that I was wrong to come here, wrong to ask, wrong to think the fate of Elfael meant anything to my family in the north.”
Llewelyn opened his mouth to protest this last assertion, but a warning glance from Tuck prevented him. Instead, he moved quietly to the door, and there he paused and regarded Bran sadly. “I’m sorry,” he said, then stepped back into the hall, leaving Tuck and Bran alone.
“And God with you, too, Cousins,” muttered Bran to men who were no longer there. “Bring the horses, Tuck,” he said after a moment, “and find Alan. We’re leaving.”
They left the hall and moved out into the yard. It was after midday, and the clouds were low and dark, threatening rain. Tuck thought to argue for staying at least one day longer to allow Gruffydd the chance to change his mind and so they would not have to ride in the rain, but he knew Bran would not hear it. As the cinch belts were being tightened on the saddles, Ifor and Brocmael came into the stables.
“We were looking for you,” said Brocmael. “You’re leaving?”
“So soon?” said Ifor.
Both young men appeared so crestfallen that Tuck tried to put a better face on it. “We have finished here, and anyway we are needed back home. But, God willing, we’ll come back one day,” he told them, then added, patting the fresh mount beside him, “Do thank your father for the gift of these fine horses.”
“It is the least we could do,” said Ifor, “after all you’ve done for us.”
“What about the troops?” wondered Brocmael.
“Your king does not see fit to raise any,” Bran told him.
“That’s why you’re leaving,” said Ifor.
“Aye,” confessed Bran. “That is why.”
“We’ll come with you,” Ifor offered. He nudged Brocmael, who agreed. “We can fight.”
“Your place is here,” said Bran. “Your king will not give you leave to go. He has made it very clear he does not think Elfael worth saving.” Reaching out a hand, he gave each of their arms a squeeze by way of farewell. “Nevertheless, you have been brave