"Not far," I said. "And it will only take a day or so-but we are leaving at once."

She sighed and tried to smile. "Ah, well, I suppose I should be grateful you bothered to come back at all."

Before I could think what to say to that, she rose. "Come back to me when you can stay,Will Scarlet," she said. I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes as she turned away.

"Noin, please don't."

But she was already gone.

Iwan found me a short time later. "Ready, Will?"

"It makes no matter," I grumbled.

"Then let us be about our work."

Our work was to reassemble the wagons we had taken apart in the Christmas raid. Bran's plan was simple, but required a little preparation. While Iwan, Tomas, Siarles, and I carried our tools and fittings into the wood and set about putting the wains back together, some of the other Grellon gathered the other items we would need in order to make Bran's plan succeed.

In all, it took most of the day to make the wagons serviceable once more and fortify the woodland alongside the road. When we finished, Bran inspected the work and declared that all was ready. Early the next morning, as the others made their way to the wagons leading the oxen, I enjoyed a warm dip-bath and a change of clothes-I was to pass as the servant of a Saxon merchant-and then, armed with only a knife in my belt, I lit out for Saint Martin's.

After a brisk ride, I approached the town on the King's Road and entered the square as the bell in the church began tolling. At first I imagined it was some kind of alarm, and braced myself to ride away again in retreat. But it was only the summons to midday prayers; it drew few worshippers and no soldiers at all. Plucking up my courage, I dismounted, walked to the guardhouse, and knocked on the door.

After a few moments standing in the cold, the door opened and a young soldier looked out. Seeing no one but a rough Saxon standing before him, he said, "Quel est? Que voulez-vous, mendiant?"

This was spoken rudely, as one would speak to a bothersome dog. I do not think he even expected an answer, for before I could make a reply, he began to shut the door. "Arreter, s'il vous plait! Un moment."

Hearing his own language spat back at him like that, he paused and opened the door once more. "Please, Sire," I said, feeling the French words strange in my mouth, "I was told I would find the sheriff here."

"You were told wrong," he said, then pointed to a large house across the square. "He lives there."

I thanked the soldier for his trouble and walked across the town square. So far, the plan was holding together. Now that I knew where the sheriff could be found and that I could trust myself in marketplace Ffreinc it was time to get down to business. I knocked on the door that opened onto the street. "A word, if you please," I said to the man who answered. He appeared to be a servant only-whoever he was, I knew it was not the sheriff. "I have come to see the sheriff on an urgent matter."

"What would that be?" inquired the fella.

"It is a matter for His Honour, the sheriff, himself alone," I said. "Are you Sheriff de Glanville?"

"No, I am his bailiff."Without another word, he opened the door wider and indicated that I was to come inside. "This way," he said. Closing the door behind him, he led me up stone steps to the single large room which occupied the upper floor. A fire burned in a stone fireplace and, near it, a heavy table had been set up. Richard de Glanville sat in a big, thronelike chair facing the fire, his legs and feet covered by a deerskin robe. There was a young gyrfalcon perched on a wooden stand next to him.

"What?" he said without taking his gaze from the fire. "I told you I was not to be disturbed, Antoin." I noticed his voice was thick in his throat.

"Please, my lord sheriff," I said, "I have come from Hereford with a message from my master."

"I do not care if you have come from hell with a message from the devil," he snarled with unexpected savagery. "Go away. Leave me."

The bailiff called Antoin gave me a half shrug. "As you see, he is not feeling well. Come back another time, maybe."

"Is he injured?" I asked, trying to determine if, in fact, he had been wounded in the skirmish as Tuck believed.

"No," replied Antoin. "Not that way."

"Bailiff!" growled the sheriff from his chair. "I said to leave me alone!" He did not turn from staring at the fire.

"It would be best to come back another time," Antoin said, turning me toward the door once more.

"This is not possible," I said. "You see, my master is a gold merchant. He and some other merchants are on the way to Saint Martin's today. He has sent me to beg soldiers to help us through the forest." I lowered my voice and added, "We have been hearing worrisome tales about a, ah, phantom of the wood, this King Raven, no? We beg protection, and we can pay."

Antoin frowned. I could see him wavering.

"My master has said he will gladly pay anything you ask," I told him. "Anything reasonable."

"Where is your master now?"

"They were already entering the forest when I left them on the road."

"How many?"

"Four only," I answered, "and two wagons."

He considered this a moment, tapping his chin with his finger. Then he said, "A moment, please."

Leaving me by the door, he walked to where the sheriff was seated and knelt beside the chair. They exchanged a brief word, and Antoin rose quickly and returned to me. "He has agreed to provide you with an escort. See to your horse and wait for me in the square outside. I will summon the men and meet you there."

"Very well, Sire," I said, ducking my head like a dutiful vassal. "Thank you."

I returned to the square and watered my mount in a stone trough outside the guardhouse, then waited for the sheriff and his soldiers to appear. While I waited, I observed the square, searching for any signs of the battle that had taken place only a few nights before.

There were none.

Aside from a few hoofprints in the churned-up mud and, here and there, a darker stain which might have been made by blood, there was nothing at all to suggest anything more than a Twelfth Night revel had taken place. Even what was left of the gallows had been removed.

I wondered about this. Why take away the gibbet? Was it merely that it was not needed now that the captives would not be executed? Or was there more to it-an end to the sheriff 's hanging ways, perhaps?

I determined to find out if I could. When Bailiff Antoin appeared a short time later, I found my chance. Quickly scanning the double rank of knights, I did not see the one man I wanted. "Where is Sheriff de Glanville?" I asked.

"He has asked me to lead the escort," said Antoin.

Just like that our deception was dashed to pieces.

"Will he come later?" I asked, climbing into the saddle. Mind whirling like a millwheel in the race, I tried my best to think how to rescue our shattered plan.

"No," replied the bailiff, "he will remain here and await our return. Ride on; lead the way."

That is how I came to be leading a company of six knights, a bailiff, and three men-at-arms into the forest-and myself to my doom.