"Here now," said Bran, taking the sword. "Stand aside and let's see who you've got."

Tuck moved away, but kept the staff at the ready.

Bran took hold of the prostrate man's hair and lifted his head from the ground. "Richard de Glanville!" he exclaimed, his surprise genuine. Glancing around to the friar, he said, "Well done, Tuck. You are a very wonder." He released his handful of hair, and the groggy head thumped back onto the earth. "With a little luck and Providence on our side, we may reclaim the throne of Elfael far sooner than we ever dared hope."

"Truly?"

"Aye," declared Bran, "with the sheriff 's valuable assistance, of course. But we must act quickly. We cannot give Gysburne and Hugo time to think."

Well, here's a prize we never thought to get," remarked Iwan. He put a hand to the sheriff 's shoulder and rolled him over onto his back. The sheriff moaned, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled for consciousness, but he made no effort to rise.

Bran had quickly recalled his men, and they gathered once more to receive new instructions. As Bran began to explain what he had in mind, their prisoner regained his senses. "Vous! J'ai pense j'ai senti la merde," groaned the sheriff in a voice thick and slurred.

"What did he say?" asked Bran.

"Nothing nice," replied Tuck. He gave the sheriff a kick with the toe of his shoe and warned him to speak respectfully or keep his mouth shut.

"Me tuer, et est fait."

"He wants us to kill him now and be done with it," offered the friar.

"Kill a valuable prisoner like you?" said Bran. Squatting down, he patted the sheriff 's clothes and felt along his belt before withdrawing a dagger, which he took and handed to Scarlet. "I suppose you'd prefer death just now, but you'll have to become accustomed to disappointment." To Tuck, he added, "Tell him what I said."

Tuck relayed Bran's words to de Glanville, who groaned and put his face to the ground once more.

"What is in your mind, my lord?" asked Iwan.

"Bind him," Bran directed, "and get him on his feet. Gysburne and his men will be recovering their courage, and any moment they might take it into their heads to come after us. Siarles, Tomas-see how many arrows you can get from the field, and hurry back."

The two hurried off, returning a short while later with eight shafts collected in fair condition from dead soldiers, which added to the six they already possessed brought the total to fourteen. "I would there were more, but these will have to do," Bran said. "Pray it is enough." He gave arrows to each of the archers, save the wounded Owain and himself. Instead, he shouldered his bow and took the sheriff 's sword, and instructed Tuck to ask de Glanville where the Ffreinc had hidden their horses.

Tuck did so, and received a terse reply-to which Tuck responded with another sharp rap of his staff against the sheriff 's shins. De Glanville let out a yelp of pain and spat a string of words. "He says they're behind the rocks," reported Tuck, pointing a short distance away to a heap of boulders half covered in ivy and bracken.

While Siarles and Rhoddi collected the horses, Bran turned to Owain. "Do you think you can ride?"

His face was white and he was sweating, but his voice was steady as he replied, "I can ride, my lord."

"Very well." Bran nodded. He turned to Tomas. "I'm sending you and Owain back to Cel Craidd. Tell Angharad and the others what has happened, and to see to Owain's wound. Then get Alan and bring him. The two of you meet us on the road-the place near the stream where the willows grow."

Tomas nodded. "I know the place."

"Then go. Ride like the devil himself was on your tail." To the others Bran said, "Find us something to drink and be ready to ride as soon as Siarles and Rhoddi return with the horses."

"What about the wagons?" asked Iwan.

"Leave them," said Bran. "If all goes well, we will own not only the wagons but all the rest of Elfael before nightfall."

The graves had been dug outside the abbey walls and the first bodies were being laid to rest under the solemn gaze of Captain Aloin and the chanting of Psalms from some of Saint Martin's monks when one of the gravediggers glanced up and saw, in the crimson light of a fading sunset, a body of men on horseback riding towards them from the direction of the forest. At first thought, he assumed it must be Sheriff de Glanville and his men returning at last from their part in the day's events, so he said nothing. But as the riders came closer, a trickle of doubt began to erode his assumption.

Captain Aloin, bruised and battered by his first encounter with King Raven and the lethal Welsh longbows, had determined to raise the issue of what he considered Marshal Guy's murderous incompetence with both the abbot and the sheriff at first opportunity. Clearly, Gysburne had to go. Aloin was thinking how best to put his case before the abbot and did not hear the monk speaking to him. He felt a touch on his arm and glanced up.

"Mon seigneur, regarder… " said the monk.

Aloin shifted his eyes from the corpse being lowered into the grave and looked where the monk was pointing. The approaching horsemen were near enough now to make out their faces, and what he saw was not the sheriff and his men, but strangers riding Ffreinc horses. "Qui dans les flames!"

"C'est le gallois…"

"Que?"

"The one they call King Raven," said the monk.

"Blind them! They have Sheriff de Glanville!"

Instantly terrified, the monks and soldiers scattered, running for the safety of the abbey walls. Within moments, the abbey bells were signalling alarm. The few remaining knights who were not seriously wounded scurried to arm themselves and meet the attack. What they met instead were seven outlaws surrounding a red-faced, sullen Sheriff Richard de Glanville bound with his own belt.

The town square had been given over to the wounded from the day's earlier skirmishes; they had been laid on pallets in the open air to have their injuries tended by the monks, who moved among the rows of pallets, bathing and bandaging the injuries and offering what comfort they could to the dying. The outlaws rode to the entrance of the square, and one of them-in good plain French-called aloud for Abbot Hugo. The abbot, heeding the warning of King Raven's approach, had hidden himself in the guard tower to be defended by the eight knights still able to fight. These had arrayed themselves before the tower, weapons levelled, ready for the attack.

When the abbot failed to present himself, the French-speaking outlaw called, "Marshal Guy de Gysburne! Show yourself!"

There was a movement at the foot of the tower. "I am Guy," said the marshal, shoving through the knot of men. "What is this?"

"This," replied Alan, putting out a hand to the sheriff, "is all that is left of the company sent out to plunder the countryside this morning. The battle is over, and we have come to negotiate the terms of surrender."

"Surrender!" scoffed Gysburne. "Your surrender, I expect."

"No, my lord," replied Alan a'Dale. "The surrender of Abbot Hugo and yourself, and those of your men still alive. You will bring the abbot now so that we can begin."

A knight moved to take his place beside the marshal. "You must be insane," he charged, "coming here like this." He flung an accusing finger at the outlaw band. "Come down off your horses, you filthy dogs. We will settle this here and now!"

Bran leaned near his interpreter and spoke a few words, which Alan passed on, speaking to Gysburne. "Who is this man? My lord wishes to know."

"I am Captain Aloin, by the blood! Come down here and-"

"Hear me, Marshal Gysburne," interrupted Alan, "you will tell your man to hold his tongue. We have nothing to say to him."