"You lurking devil," growled the slight one, thrusting forward, "we'll not be singing for you." He looked to the big one, who nodded slowly. "Not until we know more about you."

"Well, I've got time now if you do," said I. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"A name if you have one," said he. "That will do for a beginning."

"My name's William Scatlocke," I told them. "Think what you like, but there's some as tug a forelock when they hear that name." I give him a smile and a wink. "But a doff o' the hat will do nicely just now."

"I am Iwan," replied the big one, warming up a little. "This here is Siarles."

"Scatlocke's a Saxon name," observed the slight one with a frown. "But William, now that's Ffreinc." He seemed ready to spit to show me what he thought of Normans.

"Saxon and Ffreinc, aye," I agreed politely. "My mother, bless her dear, sweet, well-meaning soul, thought a Frankish William would make my life that little mite easier seeing as our land was overrun by the vermin. With a William to go before me, they might mistake me for one of their own, see, and give me an easier ride."

"Do they?" he asked, suspicion making his voice a threat.

"Not as I've noticed," I said. "Then again, it en't as if I'd been named Siarles. Now, there's a name just begging for trouble, if ever I heard one."

The slight one bristled and bunched up his face, but the big one chuckled aloud, his voice like thunder over green hills. "You are a bold one, give you that," said he. "But you're in the March now, friend. What causes you to be dropping from our good Welsh trees, Bold William?"

"Friendly folk call me Will Scarlet," I answered. "Forester by trade, I am-just like my father before me. I see you two know your way around leafland yourselves."

"That we do, Will," Iwan said. "Are you running from someone, then?"

"Running to, more like."

Well, they wanted to hear more, so I went on to explain about Thane Aelred getting banished and his lands taken in Forest Law and all that ruck. I told about taking to the greenwood, and all my travels since then. They listened, and I could feel them relaxing their distrust as I described hiding from the sheriff and his men on land that used to belong to my good thane, and poaching the king's precious deer to survive. Pretty soon, they began nodding and agreeing, siding with me in my plight. "Thing is, since then I've been on the move all summer looking for this fella they call King Raven. Naturally, when I heard you mention Rhi Bran, my ears pricked right up."

"You speak Cymru?" asked Siarles then.

"Learned it on my dear mum's knee," I told him. "Same mum, in fact, that named me William. I also bothered myself to learn a little Frank so I'd know what those buggers were up to."

"Why do you want to see King Raven?" asked Iwan. "If you don't mind my asking."

"To offer my services," I replied, "and I'd be much obliged for any help you could give me in that direction."

"Might we know the nature of these services?" asked Siarles, looking me up and down. He was softening a bit, but still a little brittle for my taste.

"Seems to me that if he is even half the man I think he is, he'll be needing a strong and fearless hand like Will Scarlet here."

"What do you know of him?"

"I know he en't a phantom, as some would have it. I know Baron de Braose is offering fifty pounds of pure English silver for his fine feathered head on a pike."

"Truly?" Siarles asked, much impressed.

"Aye," I assured him, "did you not know that?"

"We maybe heard something about it," he muttered. Then a new thought occurred to him. "And just how do we know you don't want to claim all that money for yourself?"

"Good question," I allowed. "And it deserves a good answer."

"Well?" he said, suspicion leaping up lively as ever. Siarles, bless him; his grey eyes are quick and they are keen, but he distrusts most of what he sees. Half of it is living in the wildwood, I reckon, where your eyes and wits are your best and truest friends; but the other half is just his own leery nature.

"As soon as I think up an answer good enough, I'll tell you," I said. This brought a growl from young Siarles, who wanted to run me off then and there.

Iwan only laughed. He had already made up his mind about me. "Peace, Siarles," he said. "He doesn't want the money."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Any man after the reward money would have thought of a better answer than that. Why, he'd have a whole story worked out and like as not say too much and get himself all tangled in the telling. Will, here, didn't do that."

"Maybe he's just that stupid."

"Nay, he isn't stupid," replied Iwan. I liked him better and better by the moment. "I'll wager my good word against anything in your purse that claiming the reward money never crossed his mind."

"You would win that bet, friend," I replied. "In truth, it never did." Seeing as how Iwan had made such a fine argument for me, I asked, "Am I to be thinking that you know this Rhi Bran?"

Siarles, still suspicious, frowned as Iwan said, "Know him, aye, we do."

"Would you kindly tell me where he can be found?" I asked, nice as please and thank you.

"Better than that," said Iwan, "we'll take you to meet him."

"Iwan!" snapped Siarles. He was tenacious as a rat dog, give him that. "What are you saying? We don't know this Saxon, or anything about him. We can't be taking him to Bran. Why, he might be anybody-maybe even a spy for the abbot!"

"If he's Hugo's spy we can't be leaving him here," countered Iwan. "I say we take him with us and leave it to Bran to decide who and what he is-aye, and what is to be done with him." Turning to me, he said, "If we take you with us, do you swear on your life's blood to abide by our lord's decision whatsoever it may be?"

Ordinarily, I do not like swearing my life away on the whims of persons unknown, but seeing as he was only granting me the chance I'd been seeking all summer, I readily agreed. "On my life's blood, I swear to abide by your lord's decision."

"Good enough for me," said Iwan. "Follow us."

"And see you keep quiet," added Siarles for good measure.

"I'll be as quiet as you were when you woke me from my treetop perch just now," I told him.

Iwan gave out a laugh and, in two quick strides, disappeared up over the bank and into the brushwood beside the road. "After you," said Siarles, prodding me with the tip of his bow. "I'll come last, and don't you put a foot wrong, 'cause I'll be watching you."

"There's relief, to be sure," I replied. Stepping into the forest, I was led a merry chase to meet the man I'd crossed half the country to see. God save me, but I never imagined him the way he first appeared.

The trail went on and on. My guides maintained a curious wolf-trot pace: three steps quick walk alternating with four steps slow running. It took a bit of getting used to, but, once I got the knack, I soon understood that it allowed a body to move quickly over long distances and still have breath enough and strength to do what you came to do when you reached your destination. I had never seen this neat trick before, and was glad to add it to my own tidy store of forest craft… You should try it, Odo," I tell my bleary-eyed scribe. He raises his pudding face to see if I jest. "It would do you good."

"I will take you at your word," he says, stifling a yawn. He dips his quill in the horn, and the wet nib hovers over the parchment. "Where did they take you, these hooded strangers?"

"Where did they take me? Pay attention, and you'll learn soon enough. Now then, where was I?"

"Running through the greenwood to meet the Raven King."

"Not the Raven King," I tell him. "It is King Raven-there is a difference, monk. Get it right."