Bran turned and called out across Cel Craidd, "Scarlet! Owain! To me! Tomas-my weapons. To me, lads! The Ffreinc have been sighted."

This call roused the sleepy settlement, and soon the few remaining inhabitants were running here and there to help the warriors on their way. Out from a nearby dwelling, Angharad emerged. Bran hurried to meet her. "It begins," he said.

"So it does." She unfolded a bit of soft leather and handed Bran three coiled bowstrings. "God with you, Rhi Bran," she said. "These I made especially for this day." Her face froze then, and she drew a breath as if to speak, but thought better of it.

"I thank you, Wise Banfaith," he replied, placing the bowstrings in a pouch at his belt. "Was there something else you wanted to say?"

The old woman stared at him, her dark eyes peering as through a mist. Bran could sense her struggling… to find the words? To reach him in some way? Finally, she relaxed. Her face softened and she smiled, her wrinkled face smoothing somewhat in simple pleasure. "All that needs saying have I said." Reaching out, she covered his hands with hers and gripped them tight. "Now it is for us to remember."

"Then we will do the work of remembering," replied Bran.

The old woman lifted her hand to his face; then, rising on tiptoes, she brushed his cheek with her dry lips. "I am proud of you, my king. Do remember that."

Prebyn returned then and received orders to tell Iwan and those in the valley fortress that the king's army was on its way. "Come back as soon as you've delivered your message," Bran told him. "There may be Ffreinc outriders around, and you do not want to be caught." Then, turning to the rest of the Grellon, he said, "You all know what to do." There were murmurs of assent all around, and some voices called out encouragements, which the king acknowledged. Then, addressing Angharad one last time, he said, "Pray for us, all of you, and let your prayers strengthen our courage and sharpen our aim."

"I will uphold you in battle with psalms and prayers and songs of power as befits a bard of Britain," Angharad said. Raising her staff, she held it crosswise in her hands and lifted it high. "Kneel before the High King of Heaven," she instructed.

Bran knelt before his Wise Banfaith, to receive her blessing. "Fear nothing, O King," she said, placing one withered hand on his head. "The Almighty and His angelic battlehost go before you. Fight well and behold the glory of the Lord."

Bran thanked his bard and commended his people to her care. Tomas passed him his longbow, and Scarlet handed him a sheaf of arrows which he tied to his belt. "Come, friends. Let's be about the day's business."

Shouldering a thick bundle of arrows each from their sizeable stockpile of begged, bought, and Grellon-made shafts, they climbed the rim of Cel Craidd's encircling rampart and started off along one of the many pathways leading into the forest. Bran had taken but half a dozen steps when he heard a heavy tread on the trail behind him. "What are you doing, Tuck? I thought we agreed you would stay here and help Angharad."

"I seem to recall that we discussed something of the sort, yes," allowed the friar. "But agreed? No, I think not."

"Tuck-"

"You leave your flock in safe hands, my lord. Angharad needs no help from me, and I will be more aid to you on the battle line." The priest patted the satchel at his side. "I am bringing cloths and such for wounds. I can serve you better at the sharp end, can I not?"

"Come, then," Bran said, shifting the bundle of arrows on his hip. "It would not do to keep King William waiting."

They marched at a steady pace, moving silently as shadows through the thick-grown trees and heavy undergrowth of bracken and tangled ivy vines and bramble canes, guided by an intimate knowledge of the greenwood's myriad trackways-many of which would be invisible to anyone who had not spent years in the wild woodlands of the March. They changed direction often, abandoning one trail for another, always working south, however, towards the King's Road.

"Do you think William Rufus himself has come?" asked Tuck.

"Perhaps," allowed Scarlet a few paces behind him. "Where you find king's men, you sometimes find a king leading them. Red William is said to like a fight."

"It would be good if he has come," Tuck observed. "Then when we sue for peace he will be ready to hand."

"Sue for peace," said Bran. "I have no intention of suing for peace."

"I was not thinking of you, my lord," replied the friar. "I was thinking of the Ffreinc. After a few days, I would not be surprised if we see a flag of truce from William's camp."

"A few days?" wondered Bran. "Tuck, bless you, we have but ten men! If we make it to the end of this day with body and soul knit together, I will count it a triumph."

"Oh, ye of little faith!" the priest scoffed, and on they went.

The land rose steadily beneath to form the long slope of the ridge that was the southern border of Elfael. At the place where the old road crested the ridge-dropping low as it passed between two steep banks of stone like a river flowing through a gorge-Bran had chosen to engage the enemy. They dropped their bundles at the foot of a high rock stack shielding them from view of the road below. While Scarlet and the others took a moment's rest, Tuck and Bran climbed the stack. On a flat rock jutting out above the road, they found Rhoddi lying on his stomach and gazing down the long southern slope towards the foot of the ridge.

"Thank God," said the warrior, squirming upright as Bran crawled up on hands and knees to join him. "Here I was thinking Prebyn had lost his way."

"Where are they?" asked Bran, squatting beside Rhoddi.

"Just there." He pointed down the slope towards a stand of oaks that grew beside the deep-rutted road. "They seem to have stopped. They've been there for a while, but they should come in sight any time now."

Tuck scrambled up at last and, lying on his belly, turned his eyes to the dark stretch of road far down the slope where the intertwining limbs still overhung the deep-sunk path. The Grellon had cleared the trees for a dozen yards on either side of the defile to give themselves a clear and unobstructed view from above.

"How many do you think there are?" asked the friar.

"I don't know," replied Rhoddi. "A fair few, I reckon."

Bran returned to where the others were waiting. "Scarlet, you and Tomas will command the other side. Llwyd and Beli," he said, referring to the two newcomers, both farmers' sons who had been added to their number following the abbot's disastrous raid, "go with Scarlet. He'll show you what to do. You'd better hurry. We don't want the Ffreinc to see you."

The four left on the run, and Bran and Owain took up an armful of bundled arrows and scrambled back up to the lookout post. "I see them!" said Tuck, pointing down the long incline. "That spot of red, there. It's moving."

"It's one of the scouts," Rhoddi told him. "They advance and fall back. They're plenty wary."

"They know we will attack," said Bran. "Trying to tempt us into showing ourselves."

"Brave men," Tuck murmured to himself.

"Brave fools," amended Owain.

"Is this the main body?" asked Bran.

"I made it three divisions," Rhoddi replied, and explained how he had worked his way down to the bottom of the ridge to see what could be learned of the king's army from that vantage. "Most are mounted, but there are a number on foot as well. And those I saw appeared but lightly armed."

"They know they will not be facing knights on horseback," surmised Bran, "so they need not overburden themselves or their animals."

Tuck backed slowly down the rocks and into a little sunny patch nearby; hitching up his robe, he knelt in the long grass and, crossing his hands over his chest, he lifted his face to the clear blue sky above and began to pray, saying, "Commander of the Heavenly Host, You are no stranger to war and fighting. I know You'd rather have peace, and I'd have it, too, if it was left to me. But You know that sometimes that en't possible, and if peace was in William's mind I don't reckon he'd be marching against us now. So, I'm asking You to think back to Your man, Moses, and how You supported him in all his wrangles with the Pharaoh-Who-Knew-Not-Joseph. Great of Might, I'm asking You to support Bran and his men today-and like You did with the Hebrew slaves when Pharaoh chased them out of Egypt, I'm asking You to drown the armies of the enemy in their own bloodlust. Last but not least, I'm asking You to ease the suffering of the wounded and, above all, to treat kindly the souls of those who will be coming to stand before You in a little while. Grant them eternal rest in Your wide kingdom for the sake of Your most Merciful Son, Our Lord Jesus."