Stephen Lawhead - Tuck

The king of Eiwas remained unmoved. "You said you wanted to speak to me. I hope it was not merely to berate me. If so, you are wasting your breath."

"I did not come to berate you, but to tell you that there is no need to keep me locked up. I will not try to escape, or leave Caer Rhodl without your permission and blessing."

"Coming to your senses at last, dear sister?" intoned Garran. "May I ask what has brought about this change of heart?"

"I have come to see that there is no point in leaving here without you and your war band to accompany me." Garran opened his mouth to reject that possibility outright, but Merian did not give him the chance. "Bran and his people are fighting for their lives in Elfael. We must help them. We must ride at once-"

Garran held up his hand. "We have had this discussion before," he said, "and I have not changed my mind. Even if I was so inclined to raise the war band for them, the time for that is past, I fear."

"Past?" inquired Merian. "Why past?"

"King William has raised his entire army and now occupies Elfael himself. It is said he has more than a thousand knights and men-at-arms encamped in the valley."

"What of Bran and his people? Is there any word?"

"Only that they fight on-foolishly, it seems to me, since no one has come to their aid."

"Then that is all the more reason to raise the war band," Merian insisted. Clasping her hands before her, she stepped nearer her recalcitrant brother. "You must see that, Garran. We have to help them."

"Ride against King William and his army?" laughed Garran. "There is no force in all Britain that could defeat him now."

There came a knock on the door of the king's chamber, and Luc, the king's seneschal, entered. "Forgive me, Sire, but Baron Neufmarche has come and would see you most urgently. He says-"

Before the servant could finish, Baron Bernard himself pushed past him and stepped into the room. One glance at Merian brought him up short. He stared at her as if at a ghost, then collected himself. "I see I am intruding," he said. "I am sorry. I will come back in-"

"Pray, do not leave, Baron," said Garran. Merian noticed her brother's French had become quite fluent-as had her own since returning to Caer Rhodl. "Stay. This concerns you, too, I think. Merian here is urging us to raise an army and ride to the defence of Elfael. She thinks we should take arms against the king of England's forces for the sake of Bran ap Brychan and his pitiful band of rebels."

The baron raised his eyebrows, but did not condemn the notion. "Does she indeed?" he said, stepping farther into the room. "I would like to hear her reasons." He made a stiffly formal bow to the young woman. "Please, speak freely, my lady. I assure you no harm will come of it."

Garran was quick to protest. "With all respect, Baron, my sister's fancies cannot be seriously entertained."

"Fancies!" snapped Merian.

"Please," replied Neufmarche. He appealed to Merian. "If you would kindly explain, I would like to hear your reasons."

Fearing some kind of trap was being laid for her, she replied, "Baron, you have the advantage here. Sending our war band to aid Bran against the king is treason, and if I were to argue such a course before one of the king's noblemen, it would be to my death-if such a thing were to be reported. In any event, aiding Elfael would go against your own interests, and I cannot think you, or anyone else, would willingly choose such a course."

"Exactly!" crowed Garran.

"Do not be so hasty," cautioned the baron. "As it happens, aiding Elfael may sit with my interests very nicely."

Garran stared at his father-in-law and patron, momentarily lost for words.

"Does this surprise you?" wondered the baron. "So long as we are speaking freely, the king is not always right, you know. William Rufus is not the man his father was. He makes mistakes. One of his early mistakes was to cross the Neufmarches-but that is not at issue here."

He began pacing before the young king's chair, to Merian's mind the very image of a man wrestling with an intractable problem. She watched him, hardly daring to hope that something good might come from what he was about to say.

"It comes to this-the king has ordered me to attend him and support him in this war against the rebel cantref. To aid the king is to undo all I have worked for in Wales for the last ten years or more. This I will not do-especially since my own grandchildren, when they arrive, will be Welsh. And yet"-he raised a finger-"to fail to respond to a royal summons is considered treason, and my life and lands are forfeit if I do not ride to the aid of the king."

The baron regarded Merian as he concluded. "The king has left me with a very difficult choice, but a clear one."

Garran did not see it, but Merian did.

"Which would be?" asked the young king.

"You know it, my lady," said Neufmarche, holding her in his gaze. "I suspect you've known it for some time."

Merian nodded. "You must march against the king."

"Surely not," complained Garran. "We cannot hope to achieve anything against William and all his men."

"Perhaps not," replied Bernard, "but that is my-that is our-only choice. If we hope to hold onto what we have, we must defeat the king-or at least hold him off until peace can be reached."

"A peace," volunteered Merian, "that will include justice for Elfael and pardon for all those who have fought for what is right."

"Amnistie royale, oui," replied the baron.

"But we risk everything," Garran pointed out.

"Our only hope of keeping what we have is to risk it all," agreed Neufmarche.

Garran fell silent, contemplating the enormous jolt his life and reign as king had just taken.

"And that, I suspect," continued the baron after a moment, "is why the Welsh noblemen have come."

"Cymry noblemen?" said Merian. "Here?"

"Mais, oui," Neufmarche assured her, "it is the reason I intruded just now. A number of Welsh noblemen have arrived, and are seeking audience with the king. I asked Luc to bid them wait a little because I wanted to speak with my son-in-law first." He smiled. "So, you see, c'est fortuit."

"Non," corrected Merian, "l'est la providence." She turned to her brother, freshening her appeal in Welsh. "Don't you see, Garran? Riding to the aid of Elfael is the only way. And with the baron's help we cannot fail."

The young king was far from convinced, but as client to the baron, he knew he must do whatever his overlord commanded. Still, he sought to put off his consent a little longer. "Perhaps," he suggested, "before going any further, we should see who has come, and hear what they have to say."

"They have been brought to the hall," said Baron Bernard, "and the serving maids instructed to give them refreshment." He held out his arm to Merian who, after a slight hesitation, took it. Garran went ahead of them, and the baron followed with Merian on his arm. As soon as Garran had left the room, the baron turned to her and whispered, "Lady Merian," he said, "hear me-we have not much time. I do most humbly beg your pardon, for I have not always had your best interest at heart. I pray your forgiveness, my lady, and vow that in the days ahead I will make every effort to find a way to make up for my past mistakes."

"You are forgiven, my lord baron," replied Merian nicely. "What is more, your determination to aid Bran and Elfael absolves a great many trespasses. I pray now that we are not too late."

"So pray we all," replied the baron.

They followed King Garran and his seneschal into the hall, where they found the benches full of strangers. Some of the king's men had already gathered to host the visitors, and all rose to their feet when the young king appeared.

"My lord king," said one of the visitors, stepping forward at once, "in the name of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, I give you good greeting. I am Lord Llewelyn of Aberffraw at your service." He gave a small bow of deference. "I present to you, my lord, King Gruffydd of Gwynedd"-a tall, lean man stepped forward-"and with him, my lord, King Dafydd ap Owain, lord of Snowdon"-a stern-faced battle chief stepped forward and, putting a hand to the hilt of his sword, gave a nod of his head-"and Iestyn ap Gwrgan, king of Gwent." The last of the great Welsh noblemen stepped forward and made his obeisance to the young king.