The count, having been seen to bear the earl's complaints and abuse with the good grace of one who could not grasp the more subtle nuances of insult in a foreign tongue, rose from his seat and with the aid of his able interpreter, said, "No one is more sorry than I that we have failed today. Still, it is in the nature of things that the hunter is sometimes outwitted by his prey and must return to his hearth empty-handed." He gave a slight shrug. "I, myself, blame no one. It happens. We live to hunt another day. But a man would be a fool to remain where his friendship is no longer welcome or valued. Therefore, I thank you for your hospitality, my lord, and bid you farewell."

Oh, well done, thought Tuck, rising at Bran's gesture. As bishop, he gave the earl a small, benedictory flourish and, turning, followed the count from the hall.

"What about the hounds?" cried Hugh after the departing count. Too late he remembered the money he hoped to make on the sale of his expensive animals.

Alan, taking the count's elbow, restrained him and whispered into his ear. Rexindo shook his head, gave a final gesture of farewell, and stepped through the door. "I am sorry, my lord," Alan said, standing with his hand on the latch, "but the count says that he could not possibly consider buying such ill-trained and ungovernable beasts as the one he witnessed today. He has withdrawn his offer. You may keep your dogs."

With that, Alan disappeared, following Bishop Balthus, Lord Galindo, and Lord Ramiero across the threshold and into the corridor beyond. As soon as the heavy door shut behind them, they fairly flew to the stable and relieved the grooms of the care of their horses. Rexindo, true to his noble Spanish character, paid the grooms a few silver pennies each-as much to buy their aid as for their unwitting diligence-and with kind words and praise, bade them farewell. The chief groomsman, pleased and charmed by the count's noble treatment, led the company from the yard and opened the gate for them himself.

As they mounted their horses, Bran reached down a hand to Alan. "If you still want to come with me," he said. Without hesitation, Alan a'Dale grabbed the offered hand, and Bran pulled him up to sit behind him.

At last, having successfully skinned the wolf in his den, the short ride to Caer Cestre became a jubilant race. In the fading evening light, the company came clattering into a nearly deserted town square, where they dismounted and quickly made their way to the docks to meet King Gruffydd. When a cursory search failed to find him, they split up and, each taking a separate street, began combing the town. This, too, failed. "Perhaps he is waiting at one of the inns," suggested Alan.

Bran commended the idea and said, "You and Tuck go look there. Ifor, Brocmael, and I will wait for you at the wharf in case he should come there."

The two hurried off and were soon approaching the first of the river town's three inns-a place called the Crown and Keys. Despite the somewhat lofty ambitions of its name, it was a low place, smuggy with smoke from a faulty chimney and poorly lit. A cushion of damp reeds carpeted the uneven floor upon which rested one long table down the centre of the room with benches on either side. Four men sat at the table, and the brewmistress stood nearby to fetch the necessaries for her patrons. One glance into the room told them they must pursue their search elsewhere.

The next inn-The Star-was the place where they'd sat outside in the sun and enjoyed a jar on a day that now seemed years ago. Inside, the single large room was full of travellers and townsfolk; pipers had taken up residence beside the great hearth, and the skirl of pipes lent a festive atmosphere to the room. It took them longer here to look among the tables and investigate all the corners. Alan asked the alewife if anyone answering Gruffydd's description had been seen in or about the place that day. "Nay-no one like that. It's been a quiet day all told," she said, shouting over the pipers. "Not being a market day, ye ken?"

They had another look around the room and then moved on to the last of the town's inns-a mean place only a rung or two up from a cattle stall; with a few small tables and a few nooks with benches, it had little to recommend it but its ready supply of ale, which many of the boat trade seemed to prefer, judging from the number of seafarers in the place. Again, they quickly gleaned that not only was King Gruffydd not in the room, but no one answering his description had been seen that day or any other. Tuck thanked the owner, and he and Alan hurried back to rejoin Bran and the others at the dock.

"What now?" asked Ifor when Alan finished his report. "We've looked everywhere."

"I told him where to go," said Tuck. "I made certain he understood."

"Maybe he's hiding in a barn or byre somewhere," suggested Alan.

"When you took him out to the hunting run," said Bran, "what did you tell him?"

"To come to the dock in town and wait for us there," said Ifor."He said he would."

"Then, I think we must assume he is not in the town at all," suggested Bran. "Otherwise he'd be here."

Tuck considered this. "He never made it, you mean?"

"Either that," confirmed Bran, "or he took matters into his own hands and fled elsewhere."

"You think he didn't trust us to get him away safely?" said Brocmael.

Ifor countered this, saying, "He knew we were kinsmen, and he was keen as the blade in my belt to be leaving Caer Cestre at last. He said he'd reward us right well for helping him."

"Did he say anything else?" asked Tuck.

"He kept asking about Lord Bran-about why he would risk so much to free him."

"What did you tell him?" Bran asked.

"We told him he would have to speak to you, my lord. Your reasons were your own."

"It does not seem as if he feared to trust us," remarked Tuck. "Something ill must have befallen him."

"What now?" asked Alan again.

"It's back to foul Hugh's hunting run," Bran decided. "We must try to raise Gruffydd's trail and track him down-this time in earnest. We'll get what rest we can tonight and ride as soon as it is light enough to see the trail beneath our feet." He hesitated, then added, "In any event, finding Gruffydd might be the least of our worries…"

"Why?" said Tuck. "What else?"

"The ship is gone."

Only then did it occur to Tuck to look among the vessels at anchor along the dock and in the central stream of the river. It was true; the Iberian boat that had brought them was no longer to be seen. "I thought he said he'd wait for us."

"He said his business would take him no more than a week," Bran corrected. "Maybe he finished sooner than he expected."

"Or, it's taken longer," Alan pointed out.

The two young noblemen shared a worried glance, and Tuck sighed, "Bless me, when it rains, it pours."

"Never mind," said Bran. "So long as we stay out of sight of the earl, we'll make good our escape. The Welsh border is only a day and a half away. We can always ride if need be."

They found a dry place on the dock among piles of casks and rope, and settled down for a restless night. It was warm enough, but as night drew on, clouds drifted in, bringing rain with the approach of dawn. Tuck awoke when his face grew wet and then could not get back to sleep, so contented himself with saying the Psalms until the others rose and they departed once more, leaving Alan a'Dale behind in case the Iberian ship should return.

Skirting the earl's stronghold, they made for the hunting run. By the time they reached the place where Gruffydd had shed his prison rags for those supplied by his rescuers, the sky was light enough and they could begin making out marks on the trail. Ifor and Brocmael dismounted and, on hands and knees, began searching the soft earth in the undergrowth around the tree where the clothes had been hidden. Ifor found a mark which he thought could have been made by the butt of a spear being used as a staff, and before Bran and Tuck could see it for themselves, Brocmael, working a little farther on, called out that he had found a half-print of a shoe.