"God with you, Alan," said Iwan, nudging the minstrel with his foot.

Alan jolted awake and jumped to his feet. "Oh, Iwan-it's you. Here, I must have nodded off for a few winks just then."

"Never mind," said Iwan. "No harm done. Has our captive made any trouble?"

"Quiet as a lamb," replied Alan. He yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Quieter, even. Maybe he has resigned himself to his fate."

"Not likely," replied Iwan. "Open the door, and let's have a look at him."

Alan untied the braided leather rope used to secure the storehouse and pulled open the rough plank door. There, huddled in his cloak on the beaten dirt floor, sat Richard de Glanville, Sheriff of Elfael, chained at the wrists and ankles, red-eyed from lack of sleep, his hair wild on his head as if he had been beating his skull against the walls of his prison. He spat and began cursing as soon as he saw who had come to observe him.

Iwan regarded the enraged prisoner for a moment, then said, "You would think a man so eager for the captivity of others would endure his own with a little more dignity. What is he saying?"

Alan listened to the sheriff 's onrushing gush of abuse, then said, "Nothing worth hearing. Suffice it to say that he holds himself ill-used."

"No doubt," Iwan agreed, then addressed the prisoner. "If you think yourself mistreated now, Sheriff, try escaping and whole new realms of woe will open before you." To Alan he added, "Tell him what I said."

Alan did as commanded, which loosed another tirade in snarled French from the captive. "Me tuer maintenant, ou me relacher-je l'exige!"shouted Sheriff de Glanville. "Vous les porcs degoutants. M'entendre? Je l'exige!"

"What did he say?" asked Iwan. "Something about pigs?"

"Aye, swine came into it," replied Alan. "More to the point, he says he wants us to kill him now or set him free."

"If it was left to me," replied the champion, "he would have had his wish long since. But our Lord Bran thinks he may be of some value yet."

"Mes regrets, mon sherif. Helas, il est impossible," said Alan to the sheriff, who spat by way of reply.

Iwan said, "I'll send someone to relieve your watch very soon. But before you go, see his water bowl is filled and get him some bread and a little meat if there is any."

"As good as done," replied Alan.

"And tell our hostage that he is going to be with us for a few more days at least, so he must try to endure his captivity with better grace than he has shown till now."

This was passed along to the prisoner, who spat again and turned his face to the wall. Alan retied the rope securing the door, and he and Iwan walked across the yard to the hall. "He is a right rogue, that one," Alan observed. "As black-souled a brute as ever strode the earth on two legs. What if King William will not bargain for his life?"

"Oh, he'll bargain, never fear," Iwan assured him. "For all his faults, de Glanville is a Ffreinc nobleman. And if I've learned anything these last years, it is that the noble Ffreinc look out for their own. William may not like de Glanville very much-no blame there, God knows-but he will bargain. All we need do is make sure the ransom is not so high that the king will refuse to pay."

Following the eviction of the Ffreinc from the cantref, Bran had swiftly moved to occupy not only the fortress of Caer Cadarn, but the nearby town as well, reclaiming them for the Cymry. To that end, he had summoned the venerable Bishop Asaph to return and take charge of the abbey at Saint Martin's. Before being forced into exile by Abbot Hugo, the elderly cleric had been the head of Llanelli, the monastery Count Falkes de Braose had pulled down and rebuilt, and around which he had constructed his new town. As soon as Asaph, along with a goodly body of monks, was firmly installed and keeping watch over the town and its inhabitants-both the remaining Ffreinc townsfolk and the wounded knights, all of whom had been left behind by the abbot and his troops-Bran then moved to regain control of the fortress. This was swiftly done, since the Ffreinc had abandoned the stronghold before the last battle; they had never worried that King Raven would attack it in any case, and only ever kept a token occupation in place. Bran gave the defence of the caer and the valley round about to Iwan, with Siarles and Alan to help. He sent Tomas and Rhoddi on fast horses to ride throughout Elfael and to settlements in the nearest cantrefs and spread the news that King Raven had driven out the Ffreinc invaders and taken Caer Cadarn: all who could were to gather weapons and supplies and come occupy the caer-for safety, for defence, and so that Elfael's ancient stronghold would not be abandoned.

With these measures in place, Bran had returned to Cel Craidd; and now, two days after escorting Abbot Hugo and Marshal Gysburne and their few remaining troops to the borders of the March, he planned his defence of his realm. He had spent the day at the caer working with Iwan on the fortifications there, returning at sundown. And now, while the rest of the forest dwellers slept, Bran sat in council with his closest advisors: Angharad, his Wise Banfaith, Friar Tuck, Will Scarlet, and Owain. Merian's absence was a pang felt by them all.

"Forgive me, Rhi Bran, but I thought-" Owain gave a shrug. "What is the point of driving out the enemy if we still must skulk around in the greenwood like outlaws?"

"We have not seen the last of the Ffreinc," Bran told him. "Iwan and Siarles can direct the defence of the caer, but we need Cel Craidd as well."

"How long, then?" Owain asked.

"Until William the Red recognizes my claim," Bran replied.

"Surely, that cannot be long in coming," Owain said. "The king must recognize your kingship now. We've defeated his lackeys."

"Nothing of the kind, lad," Scarlet told him. "We've bloodied their noses a bit, is all. They'll come back-"

"In force," added Tuck. "You can bet your last ha'penny on that."

Two days of jubilation following the Ffreinc defeat had given way to more sober reflection. It was, Tuck thought, as if the farm dog that chased every passing wagon had, against every sane expectation, finally caught one. Now the forest dwellers were faced with the awful realization that there would be reprisals, and they were woefully outmanned. How could they hope to protect their gains? That was the question in the forefront of their minds, and it leached the joy from their hearts.

"The point is," Bran continued, "we will never be secure in Elfael until we have King William's seal on a treaty of peace and protection. I do not expect Red William to grant that without a fight-which is why we're still skulking around in the greenwood like outlaws." He broke another stick and tossed the ends into the fire, then declared the council at an end.

Scarlet rose and shuffled off to join Noin and Nia in their hut; Owain, whose wound, though still painful, was healing quickly, went to his rest. Tuck and Angharad were left to sit with Bran a little while longer. "You are right to prepare for war, of course," Tuck began.

"Did you think we would gain Elfael without one?"

"But perhaps King William's appetite for this war is no match for your own," the friar ventured, watching the firelight and shadows flicker over Bran's sharp features. "Perhaps even now he is searching for a way to avoid a fight."

"Perhaps," Bran allowed. "What are you suggesting?"

"We might send an emissary to the king with an offer of peace."

Bran regarded the little priest thoughtfully.

"Peace, that is," Tuck clarified, "in exchange for fealty."

"If William recognizes my throne, I agree to swear fealty-and the war is over."

"Over before it has begun."

Bran looked to Angharad sitting quietly beside the fire on her three-legged stool. "What do you see?" he asked.