Into the silence that followed this bold assertion, Bran added, "A throne for a throne-English for Welsh. A fair trade, I think. And justice is served."

Oh, that was well done! Pride swelled in me like a rising sun, and I basked in its warmth and glory. It was that sweet to me just then.

"You shameless and impudent rogue!" snarled the elder of the two knights. "You stand in the presence of your king and insinuate-"

"Leicester!" shouted King William. "Leave off! This man has done me a service, and though the circumstances may well be questionable"-he turned again to Bran-"I will honour it in the same spirit in which it has been rendered."

At this, Merian, who had been able to follow most of what was said, clasped her hands and gave out a little gasp of joy. "God be praised!" she sighed.

"See here, my lord," protested the one called Leicester. "You cannot intend-"

"Hold your peace," cautioned William. "I do not yet know what I intend. First, I must know what my roguish friend Bran ap Brychan presumes." To Bran, he said, "You have presumed so much already, what do you propose for these traitors?"

All eyes were on Bran as Jago conveyed the king's words and Bran answered, his voice steady, "I leave their punishment in your hands, Sire. For myself I ask only the return of my lands and the recognition of my right to rule my people in peace."

"You ask a very great deal, thief," observed the second nobleman.

"And yet it is no more than my due," Bran countered.

"How do we know this letter is even genuine?" demanded the young knight.

"Do not be an ass," the king growled. "The thing is genuine. The imbecile de Braose affixed his seal. I know it well enough. We must think now what is to be done, and that quick. We have a day, likely less, before the others arrive in force. We must work quickly if we are to save ourselves from the trap they have laid for us."

King William folded the parchment and tucked it under his arm, then stepped forward, extending his hand to Bran. "My thanks and my friendship. You and your men are forthwith pardoned from any wrongdoing in this matter. Come, friend, we will sit and break fast together and decide what is to be done with those who would steal my kingdom."

CHAPTER 43

Such palaver with the high and mighty was hard on this simple forester, I can tell you. Ol' Will has had his fill of Ffreinc enough to last him all his allotted days thrice over. If every last one of those horse-faced foreigners were to hop ship back to Normandie, this son of Britain would sing like a lark for joy till the crack o' doom. Nevertheless, here we were up to our neck bones in Normans of every kind, and most of them with sharp steel close to hand.

It fair made me wish for the solace of the greenwood, it did.

And I wasn't the only one with my teeth on edge. Poor Siarles was about as rattled as a tadpole in a barrel of eels. The fella could neither sit nor stand, but that he had to be jumping up every other breath to run to the door to see if any Ffreinc were lurking about ready to pounce on us. Still, though we could hear men moving about the palace, both inside and out, as more of the nobles arrived for their council, they left us to ourselves. The morning passed into midday, and the waiting began to wear on us.

For myself, the pain in my throbbing hand and the toils of the past few days rolled over me like a millstone, and I curled up in a corner and closed my eyes.

"We should go find out what is happening," I heard Merian say, and Iwan agreed.

"Aye," replied the big man. "Bran might need our help."

The two had just about worked themselves up to go and see what they could discover, Siarles was fussing and fretting, and Cinnia-too frightened to know what to do-had come to sit beside me, when the door opened and Bran and Jago strolled into the room.

You'd be forgiven for thinkin' they'd been twice around the moon and back the way we ran to greet them. Before either one of them could speak, Iwan swooped in. "Well?" he demanded.

"What did the king say?" asked Merian. "Will he help us?"

"Will he give back our lands?" said Siarles, joining the tight cluster around Bran. "When can we go?"

I roused myself, and Cinnia helped me to my feet and we joined the others.

"Come, tell us, Bran," said Iwan. "What did the king say?"

"He said a great many things," Bran replied, his voice a sigh of resignation. "Not all of them seemly, or even sensible."

To my weary eye, our Bran and Brother Jago seemed a little frazzled and frayed from their encounter with the English monarch. "King William keeps a close counsel," Jago added. "He gives away little and demands much. Yet I believe he has a mind to help us insofar as it helps him to do so. Beyond that, who can say?"

Who could say, indeed!

We had risked all to bring word of high treason to the king-and now that he had it, we were to be swept aside like the crumbs of yesterday's supper.

"He didn't give us back our lands?" whined Siarles.

"No, he did not," Bran confirmed. "At least, not yet. We are to wait here for his answer."

Siarles blew air through his nostrils. "To think that after all this we are beholden to that fat toad of a king!" he grumbled. "We should have supported Duke Robert instead!"

"No, we made the right choice." Bran was firm on that point. "Listen to me, all of you, and do not forget: we made the right choice. William is king, and only William has the power to give us back our lands. The king is justice for the people who must live beneath his rule. Our only hope is Red William."

"Duke Robert would have been king and returned our lands to us," Siarles insisted. "If we had supported him, he would have supported us in turn, and we'd have what is ours by rights."

Merian gave Siarles a glance that could have cut timber. The rough forester glared back at her, but mumbled, "If I have spoken above myself, I am sorry, my lord, and I do beg your pardon. It just seems that for all our trouble we are no better off than before."

Bran clapped his hand to the back of Siarles' neck, drew him close, and said, "Siarles, my friend, if you truly think supporting Robert would avail us anything, you might as well join those traitors who are even now gathering to work their wiles." Bran spoke softly, but there was no mistaking his resolve. "But while you are thinking on it, remember that Baron de Braose is one of the chief rebels. It is his hand squeezing our throats and his arm supporting Robert. If Duke Robert were to become king of England, bloody de Braose would become more powerful still, and he would never surrender his grip on our lands."

"Bran is right," Iwan declared. "The only way to get rid of de Braose is to expose him to the king."

"We have warned Red William in good time, and now he can move to disarm the traitors," Bran explained, releasing Siarles. "I have put our case before the king, and we must hope he succeeds in punishing those who have conspired against him."

"Well," said Siarles, rubbing his neck. He was still not completely convinced. "It seems we have no other hope."

"It has been this way from the start," Bran said. "We have done all we can. It is in God's hands."

See now, Bran was right. Never doubt it. We had no other hope for redress in this world, save William and William alone. But Siarles, bless his thick head, was not wrong to raise the question. Truth to tell, it was something I wondered at first myself-and it was not until Odo told me about the two popes that I began to see my way through that tangled wood. Why would Baron de Braose write a letter like that? Who was it for? Then I remembered who had signed that letter, and although I could not recall all the names, I remembered Duke Robert right enough, and wondered why the king's brother and one of Red William's dearest barons should be makin' up a letter like that.