Stephen Lawhead - Tuck

"I present my Lord Hugh d'Avranches," proclaimed the seneschal, his voice striving above the commotion of the great room.

Alan passed this along to Bran, who made a sour face as if he suddenly smelled something foul. "Et? Et?" he said. That?

Even the seneschal understood him then. "Of course," he said, stiffly. "Who else?"

Without another word, Bran approached the table where the earl sat drinking with his women. A strained silence fell at his approach as attention turned to the newcomers. Bran inclined his head in the slightest of bows and waved both Tuck and Alan to his side. "Adveho, sto hic. Dico lo quis ego detto," he said grandly, and Tuck relayed his words to Alan, who offered: "His estimable lord Count Rexindo greets you in the name of his father, Ranemiro, Duke of Navarre, who wishes you well."

"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the earl, his astonishment manifest.

Bran, looking every inch a Spanish nobleman, made another slight bow and spoke again. When he finished, he nodded at Tuck, who said, speaking through Alan, "Count Rexindo wants you to know that word of your fame has reached him in his travels, and he requests the honour of a private audience with you."

"Duke of Navarre, eh?" said Earl Hugh. "Never heard of him. Where is that?"

"It is a province in Spain, my lord," explained Alan politely.

"The duke is brother to King Carlos, who is-"

"I know who King Carlos is, by the rood," interrupted the earl."Heard of him." He passed an appraising eye over the tall man before him, then at his companions, evidently finding them acceptable. "Nephew of the king of Spain, eh? However did you find your way to a godforsaken wilderness like this?"

Tuck and Count Rexindo conferred, whereupon Alan replied, "The count has been visiting the royal court, and heard about the hunting here in the north."

"Eh? Hunting?" grunted the earl. He seemed to remember that he held a cup in his hand and finished raising it to his mouth. He guzzled down a long draught, then wiped his lips on the sleeve of his green satin shirt.

As if this was the signal the room had been awaiting, the hall lurched into boisterous life once more. The earl slapped his hand on the board before him, rattling the empty jars. "Here! Clear him a place." He began shoving his cups and companions aside to make room for his new guests. "Sit! All of you! We'll share a drink-you and your men-and you can tell me about this hunting, eh?"

By Saint Mewan's toe, thought Tuck, he's done it! Our Bran has done it!

Earl Hugh filled some empty cups from a jar and sent one of the women to fetch bread and meat for his new guests. Turning to regard his visitors from across the table, he observed, "Spaniard, eh? You're a long way from home."

Bran gazed placidly back at him as Alan, translating Tuck's hurried whispers, relayed his words.

"That is so, may it please God," replied Count Rexindo. Even speaking through two interpreters his highborn courtesy was clear to see. "We have heard that the hunting in England is considered the best in the world. This, I had to see for myself." He smiled and spread his hands. "So, here I am."

The count drank from his cup while his words were translated for the earl, smiling, looking for all the world like a man at utter ease with himself and his fellows. The women at the board seemed to find his dark looks attractive; they vied for his notice with winks and none-too-subtle smiles. When Alan finished, Count Rexindo indicated his companions and conferred with his interpreter, who said, "Pray allow me to introduce the count's companions. I present to you Father Balthus, Bishop of Pamplona," he said, and Tuck dipped his head in modest acknowledgement. "Also, I give you Lord Galindo of Tolosa"-and here he indicated Ifor-"and next to him is Lord Ramiero of Petilla." Brocmael, solemn as the tomb, inclined his head. "They are favourites among the count's many cousins."

If Alan suspected that he was part of a cunning deception, he did not let it show in the slightest. On the contrary, the further into the tale he delved, the more comfortable he became, and the more his admiration for the dark-haired young nobleman grew. Bran, as Count Rexindo, was a very marvel: his manner, his air, his being-everything about him had changed since entering that den of rogues; even his voice had taken on a subtle quality of refinement and restraint.

Tuck, too, was impressed, for when Bran spoke his made-up Spanish, it was with the light, soft lisping tone of Hibernia that Tuck recalled in their friend from Saint Dyfrig's, the stately Brother Jago. Slow boat that he was, it finally occurred to the friar that this was where Bran had got the names and titles and all the rest for them all. All that time spent travelling together last spring, Bran had had plenty of time to learn all that and more besides from the Spanish monk.

"You like to hunt, eh?" mused Earl Hugh into his cup. "So do I, by the bloody rood! So do I."

A brief conference between Tuck, Alan, and Bran set the course for the next part of the plan. "Give him to know that in Spain I am renowned as a great hunter, and that my father keeps a stable of the best horses in the realm. There is nothing I have not hunted." Bran nodded. "Make a good tale of it, Tuck, but be sure to remember what you have said so you can tell me after."

Tuck relayed to Alan what Bran had said, and added his own warning, "And don't over-egg the pudding, boyo," he said. "I'll be listening, mind, so keep it pure and simple."

"Never fear," replied Alan, who then turned to Earl Hugh and said, "My apologies, Lord. The count is embarrassed by his lack of French. But he wishes you to know that in his home country, he is a very champion among hunters and has ridden to the hunt throughout Spain. His father, the duke, keeps a stable of the finest horses to be found anywhere in the realm."

The earl listened, his interest piqued. "No finer horses than mine, I'll warrant," he suggested when Alan finished. "I'd like to see them. Did you bring any with you?"

"Alas no, Lord," answered Alan, without waiting to consult his master. "They are very valuable animals, as you must imagine, and could not be allowed to make a voyage, however short."

"A pity," replied Hugh. "I should like to have seen them in the flesh. My own horses have been praised by those who know a good animal when they see one. I'll show them to you, eh?"

Alan turned his head to receive the count's decision, then said, "My lord would like nothing more than to have the pleasure of viewing your excellent animals."

"Then let's be at it!" said Hugh, hoisting himself from his chair with the aid of the board before him. Calling for his seneschal, he motioned his visitors to follow and bowled from the hall with a lurching, unsteady gait.

"We're well on our way, men," Bran whispered. To Ifor and Brocmael, he said, "This next part will be in your hands. Are you ready?" Both young men nodded. "Good." To Tuck, he added, "Tell Alan-"

"My lord," said Alan, with a fishy grin at Tuck, "it is not necessary, as I speak a fair bit of Cymry, too, ye ken?"

"You do amaze me," Bran confessed. "I begin to believe you were born to this."

"Just where did you learn to speak like that?" Tuck wondered. "I mean no offence, but you spoke like a roadside beggar before we passed through these gates."

Alan lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "It is useful for the earnin' o' a penny or two," he said, putting on the rough speech again as easily as a man putting on a hat. "A wanderin' musician is a pitiful lump without his harp."

"Wandering musician," echoed Tuck. "A minstrel?"

"If ye like," said Alan.

"How did you lose your harp?" the friar asked.

"Let's just say some lords appreciate a jest more'n others, ye ken?"

Bran laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I want you to stay with us while we're here-will you do that? I'll reward you well. Perhaps when this is over we can even find you a harp."