Tuck nodded thoughtfully. "Mark me, there is a dread mystery here. You would be wise to return these things as soon as possible," he concluded, "before any more blood is shed."

"That I will not do," declared Bran. "At least, not until I know what it is we have found. If de Braose considers it worth an army to recover"-he smiled suddenly-"perhaps it is worth more."

"A castle!" suggested Siarles.

"Perhaps," allowed Bran. "Maybe even a kingdom." And, no, Odo," I say with a sigh, "I cannot read. Not even my own name when it is writ. Then again, Thane Aelred couldn't read a whit, either, nor any of his vassals, saving the monks at the abbey, and he was a towering oak of a man, bless him."

"Oh," smirks he, "but there is nothing to it once you have the learning. I could teach you," he says, hopeful as a puppy.

"Well then, Odo, me lad," I tell him, "one day when I have the leisure of a cleric, as you most certainly do, I shall let you teach me to read. Now, where was I?"

"Bran considered the ring of great value," replies Odo. I lick my lips and rumble on… The next day, when Angharad learned what Tuck had revealed about the parchment, she thanked Bran for telling her, gave him a few words of advice, and took her leave. Pulling on her cloak, she bunged a few leftovers from our truncated feast into a leather bag slung on her back, took up her staff, and departed Cel Craidd then and there.

Some of us saw her leave. "Is she angry?" Tomas asked. "She seems fair put out with the world."

"I don't know," I replied. "Maybe."

"Where is she going?"

"She has a cave somewhere in the greenwood," said Huw, one of the elder Grellon. "She goes there of a time to think."

Well, the sheriff 's attack had cast a shadow of gloom over our none-too-happy home, I can tell you. As soon as Angharad left, Bran hived himself in his hut with Iwan and Tuck to decide what to do next.

"God with you, Will," said Merian, coming to stand beside me.

"And with you, my lady," I answered.

She rubbed her hands to warm them. "I wonder what they will decide."

"Difficult to say. Weighty decisions require patience and pondering aplenty."

"Do you think it dangerous, this ring?"

"I think it valuable, and that is usually danger enough." I nodded towards the hut. "I think Tuck is right when he says there is a dread mystery in the thing."

As we were talking, I caught sight of someone out of the corner of my eye. I looked across the clearing to see Noinina disappearing between two huts; she cast a last look over her shoulder as she moved from view. Something about her expression as she passed out of sight gave me to think she had been watching Merian and me and did not approve, not one tiny little scrap.

It was just the merest glimmer of a glance, to be sure. Still, it gave me a curious warmth that lasted throughout the day.

The king and his advisors emerged a short time later. "What was decided?" I asked Iwan as he came out to join us.

"We will take the treasure to Saint Tewdrig's for safekeeping as Angharad has advised," he told me. "We will also show the letter to Bishop Asaph. Perhaps he or one of his monks can read it and tell us something about how and why this ring has come to Elfael."

"That sounds a sensible plan," Merian remarked.

I nodded my agreement. "Good," I said.

"I'm glad you approve, Scarlet," he answered, turning on his heel and walking backwards a step or two. "Because it's you that's going."

CHAPTER 19

In less time than it takes a fella to lace up his boots, I was on my way. I suppose others reckoned that, as a half-Saxon with a snip of Ffreinc under my belt, I could more easily pass among the Normans as a wandering labourer-which is what I was until joining King Raven's flock.

This decision did not sit well with at least one member of our band. Siarles got it into his thick head that I was more affliction than remedy and asked to be allowed to accompany me. After a brief discussion, it was agreed that Siarles, who had been to the monastery before and knew the way, would go with me to act as guide. We were given a deerskin bundle containing the ring and gloves, and the parchment in its wrap, which we were to take to the bishop at Saint Tewdrig's and learn whatever we could from the monks-they, being men of learning, might know how to read the letter and could be trusted to hold their peace about whatever there was that might be gleaned. The rest of the treasure was to be placed with them for safekeeping.

"If the sheriff or any of his men catch you with these things," Bran warned, the flat of his hand on the parcel as he handed it to Siarles, "they will hang you for thieves-and that is the least they will do. Stay sharp, and hurry back with all speed."

"My lord," I replied, "this skin of mine may be poor quality as some would judge, but it is my own and I have grown to love it. Rest assured, I will not risk it foolishly." I might have added that Noin also had a definite interest in seeing me return hale and whole.

"There is yet one thing more," said Tuck. He had been standing beside Bran, listening to the instructions. "Hear me, if you will. Hear me, everyone."

"Silence!" called Bran. "Friar Tuck will speak."

When all had quieted, he said, "The ring has value and therefore power, does it not? It may be that God has given it to us to aid in the redemption of Elfael. Brothers and sisters all, we must hold tight to this hope and guard it with a mighty strength of purpose. Therefore, know that this is a solemn charge that has been laid upon you, Will and Siarles." He regarded Siarles and me with a commanding stare. "You take our lives in your hands when you leave this place. See you do nothing that would endanger them, or there will be hell to pay. Is this understood?"

We nodded our assent, but he would have more. "Say it," he insisted. "Pledge it on your honour."

This we did, and Tuck declared himself satisfied. He turned to Bran and said, "We have done what we can do. Now, it is for God to do as he will do." Raising his hands high, he said, "I pray the Lord of Hosts to send an army of angels to guard you every step of the way, to smooth your path in the rough world and bring you safely home. Amen and God with you."

"Amen!"

Noin and I shared a kiss of farewell. She clutched me tight, and whispered, "Come back to me, Will Scarlet. I have grown that fond of you."

"I will come back, Noin, never fear."

With that, we took leave of our king and rode out, taking a path that was only rarely used by the Grellon. The trail, which was tangled and overgrown in many places, would lead us north a fair distance where, once well away from Cel Craidd, we would double back to the Norman lands of the south and east. It was decided that we should stay off the King's Road so as to avoid any travellers, especially Norman soldiers. For two days we made our slow way through the winterland and shivered in a frosty silence as we moved through a world bleached white by the snow and cold-the stark, bloodred berries of holly and the deep green strands of ivy twining round boles of elm and oak the only hues that met our colour-starved eyes.

The Forest of the March seemed to slumber beneath its thick mantle, although here and there we saw the tracks of deer and pigs, sometimes those of wolves and other creatures-the long slashing strides of the hare, and the light skittery tracings of mice and squirrels. Overhead we heard the creak and crack of cold boughs and branches, and the occasional twit and chirp of birds interested in our passing. But these were the only things to relieve the dull sameness of the slumbering greenwood.

Nor was Siarles the easiest companion a man might choose. Short-tempered and quick to judge; easily stirred to anger or despair; in character, steadfast; in mood as changeable as water-he is Cymry through and through, Siarles is. Poor fella, he is one of God's creatures that is happiest when most miserable. And should he lack sufficient cause for misery, an imaginary source is all too easily conjured. For some reason he had taken against me from that first day I dropped out of the tree. By day's end, I reckoned I had endured enough of his rudeness. "Siarles, my friend, there is a boil of contention between us as wants lancing."