Oh, he'd seen a few fights, had Bloody Red William, and won his share to be sure. As he stumped into the room, the glance from his beady, bloodshot eyes sweeping quickly left and right, he seemed as if he expected to meet an enemy army. Like that marketplace bulldog, he appeared only too ready to take a bite out of whomever or whatever got in his way.

"Quel est cette intrusion impolie?" the king demanded, puffing himself up. He spoke quickly, and I had trouble understanding his somewhat pinched voice.

"Pax vobiscum, meus senior rex regis," said Brother Alfonso, bowing nicely.

"Latin?" said the king, which even I could understand. "Latin? Mary and Joseph, someone tell him to speak French."

"Paix, mon roi de seigneur," offered Brother Alfonso smoothly, and went on to introduce the king to his visitor.

"When you learn why we have come," said Bran, taking his place before the king as Jago translated his words for the French-speaking monarch, "you will forgive the intrusion."

"Will I, by the rood?" growled the king. "Try me, then. But I warn you, I rarely forgive much, and fools who waste my time-never!"

"If it be foolish to try to save your throne," Bran replied, his voice taking an edge the king did not mistake, "then fool I am. I have been called worse."

"Who are you?" demanded the king. "Leicester? Warwick? Do you know this man?"

"No, my lord," answered the younger of the two knights. "I have never seen him before."

"Nor I," answered the elder. "Any of them."

"Save my throne, eh?" said the king. I could see that, despite his bluster, he was intrigued. "My throne is not in danger."

"Is it not?" countered Bran. "I have good reason to believe otherwise. Your brother Duke Robert is raising rebellion against you."

"Tell me something I do not know," snorted the king. "If this is your message, you are the very fool I thought."

"This time, Lord King," replied Bran quickly, "he has the aid and support of Pope Clement and your brother Henry Beauclerc, and many others. It is my belief that they mean to force your abdication in favour of Duke Robert, or face excommunication."

This stole the swagger from the English monarch's tail, I can tell you. "I knew it!" he growled. To his knights, he said, "I told you they were scheming against me." Then, just as quick, he turned to Bran and demanded, "You have proof of this?"

"I do, Lord King," said Bran. "A document has come into my possession which has been signed by those making conspiracy against you."

"You have this document, do you?" said the king.

"I do, Sire," replied Bran.

William thrust out a broad, calloused hand. "Give it to me."

Bran put his hand inside his robe and brought out the folded parchment which had been so painstakingly copied by the monks at Saint Dyfrig's abbey. It was wrapped in its cloth, and Bran clutched it firmly in both hands. "Before I deliver it to you," he said, "I ask a boon."

"Ha!" sneered the king. "I might have guessed that was coming. You priests are always looking to your own interests. Well, what is it you want? Reward-is that what you want? Money?"

"No, Sire," said Bran, still holding out the document. "I want-"

"Yes?" said the king, impatience making him sharp. "What! Speak, man!"

"Justice," said Bran quietly. "I want justice."

Jago gave our lord's reply, to which William shouted, "You shall have it!" as he snatched the document away. Unwrapping the thick, folded square, he opened it out and stared at it long and hard. Glancing at Canon Laurent hovering nearby, he lifted a hand to the cleric and said, "This should be spoken in the presence of witnesses."

Some have said he never learned to read-at least, he could not read French. "As it lays, pray you," he said, thrusting the letter into the cleric's hands. "Spare us nothing."

The canon took a moment to study the document, collected himself, cleared his throat, and began to read it out in a clear, strong voice. "Moi Guillaume par le pardon de Dieu, de Bramber et Seigneur et Brienze, qux tres estimer et reverend Guibert et Ravenna. Salutations dans Dieu mai les tranquillite de Christ, Notre Eternelle Sauveur, rester a vous toujours."

It was the letter Jago had read to us that day in Saint Dyfrig's following the Christmas raid. That Laurent read it with far more authority could not be denied; still, though I could understand but little of what he read, I remembered that day we had gathered in Bran's greenwood hut to see what we had got from the Ffreinc. The memory sent a pang of longing through me for those who waited there still. Would I ever hold Noin in my arms again?

Canon Laurent continued, and his voice filled the room. It seemed that I heard with new ears as I listened to him read the letter again. Adding what I'd learned from Odo to my own small store, the dual purposes behind the words became plain. Yet the thing still held the mystery I had first felt when kneeling in Bran's greenwood hut and staring in quiet wonder at that great gold ring, and the fine gloves, and that wrapped square of expensive parchment. If I failed to see the sense, I had only to look at King William's face hardening into a ferocious scowl to know that whatever he heard in the high-flown words, he liked it not at all.

By the time Laurent reached the letter's conclusion and began reading out the names at the end, William was fair grinding his teeth to nubbins.

"Blood and thunder!" he shouted as the cleric finished. "Do they think to cast me aside like a gnawed bone?" Turning, he glared at the two knights with him. "This is treason, mark me! I will not abide it. By the Virgin, I will not!"

Bran, who had been closely watching Red William's reaction to the letter, glanced at Merian, who gave him a secret smile. Straight and tall in the black robe of a priest, hands folded before him as he awaited the king's judgement, he appeared just then more lordly than the ruddy-faced English monarch by a long walk. The king continued to fume and foam awhile, and then, as is natural to a fella like him, he swiftly fell to despatching his enemies. "How came you by this letter?" he said, retrieving the parchment from the cleric's hands. "Where did you get it?"

Bran, calm and unruffled as a dove in a cote, simply replied, "I stole it, Sire."

"Stole it!" cried William, when Bran's words were translated for him. "Ha! I like that! Stole it, by the rood!"

"Who did you steal it from?" asked one of the knights, stepping forward.

"It was found among items sent by Baron de Braose to his nephew, Count Falkes in Elfael. The letter, along with a pair of gloves and a papal ring, was taken in a raid on the wagons carrying provisions."

"You attacked the wagons and stole the provisions?" asked the knight, speaking through Jago.

"I did, yes. The other items were returned to de Braose, along with a careful copy of the letter just read. You have before you the original, and they are none the wiser."

The knight stared at Bran, mystified. "Thievery and you a priest. Yet, you stand here and admit it?"

"I am not as you see me," replied the dark Welshman. "I am Bran ap Brychan, rightful ruler of Elfael. I was cheated out of my lands by the deceit of Baron de Braose. On the day my father rode out to swear fealty to Your Majesty, the baron killed my father and slaughtered his entire warband. He established his nephew, Count Falkes de Braose, on our lands and continually supplies him with soldiers, money, and provisions in order to further his rule. Together they have made slaves of my people, and forced them to help build fortresses from which to further oppress them. They have driven me and my followers into the forest to live as outlaws in the land our people have owned since time beyond reckoning. All this has been possible through the collusion of Cardinal Ranulf of Bayeux, who acts with the blessing and authority of the crown, and in the king's own name." Bran paused to let this dagger strike home, then concluded, "I have come before you this day to trade that which bears the names of the traitors"-he pointed to the letter still clutched in the king's tight grasp-"for the return of my throne and the liberation of my people."