Stephen Lawhead - Scarlet

"Bloody meddler," muttered Iwan, when he learned of the plan. "There is no ship waiting for us. We've never been anywhere near Hamtun Docks."

"They don't know that," Bran replied. "We will go on as we've begun and look for the first opportunity to send them on their way."

"And if we don't find such an opportunity?" demanded Iwan. "What then?"

"We can always disappear into the wood," Bran told him. "Leave it to me. You keep your eyes on the soldiers and remain alert. If anything goes wrong, I want you ready to break some heads."

"Oh, aye," agreed Iwan grimly, "if it comes to that. I'll be ready right enough."

They had set off with Count de Braose, Sheriff de Glanville, and ten Norman soldiers-four knights and six men-at-arms-to provide protection from King Raven and his outlaw minions, who haunted the greenwood and preyed on unwary travellers. The papal envoy and his small entourage-the Lady Ghisella and her maidservant, Brother Alfonso the interpreter, and the two lay brothers surrounded by heavily armed Ffreinc men, kept to themselves for the most part. Outwardly, they behaved much as before-cheerful, if quiet, and appreciative of the largess lavished on them by their ever-watchful hosts.

"I do not trust that priest," the sheriff had said as the travelling party prepared to set off. "He is no more an ambassador of Pope Clement than my horse. Mark me, there is some deception playing out here, and we are fools if we let them get away with it."

"You may be right," conceded Count de Braose. "But we dare not risk a confrontation until we are more than certain. This way, at least, we can keep a close watch on them."

"Be sure of it," growled the sheriff. "The first time any one of them looks sideways, I'll have him."

"You are not to antagonise them," Falkes warned. "If word of any mistreatment were to reach my uncle-not to mention Pope Clement-we'd be peeled and boiled in our own blood."

"Never fear, my lord," replied the sheriff. "I will be nothing but courtesy itself to our esteemed guests. But I will watch them-by the rood, I will."

Thus, a forced and wary pleasantness settled over the travellers. Because of the small coach in which Lady Ghisella and her maid rode, and which carried the tents used by the envoy and his company, they could not travel as quickly as the Normans might have wished. At night they made camp separately, each side watching the other, wary and suspicious, across the distance. The only time the foreigners were able to confer openly with one another was when the Ffreinc were occupied with picketing the horses and establishing the guard for the night.

It was during one of these times that Bran moved among the members of his disguised flock, speaking words of encouragement and hope. He also apologized to Will and begged the forester's forgiveness. "I am sorry,Will. It was my fault you were taken, and I grieve that you suffered because of it."

"I suffered a little, true," Will granted. "But Gwion Bach would have suffered more, I reckon. Still, I forgive you free and fair. I won't say I didn't think ill of that night, all the same." He smiled. "But you've more than made up for it by saving my scrawny neck from that hide noose. And for that I truly thank you, my lord."

"We're not out of danger yet," Bran said. "So you might want to wait until we say farewell to our nosey friends before thanking me."

"Whatever happens," replied Will, "we're square, my lord, and no hard feelings."

The party endured four more days of anxious watching, until at last coming in sight of the bluffs overlooking the river estuary at Hamtun.

"What if there is no ship?" Iwan wondered. "What will we do then?"

"You should pray there is no ship," Siarles observed. "Then we can at least say they have gone to get supplies, or some such thing. The Ffreinc are not about to wait around many days to see us away."

"But what if there is a ship?" demanded Iwan, plainly worried.

"We will take it," concluded Bran. "Either way, it could not be simpler."

Simple as the choices may have been, the doing was only slightly more difficult. When, the next day, as they followed the road over the bluff and started down into the river valley, they caught sight of the docks on the waterfront below the town, the travellers could see there was, indeed, a ship waiting there-a sturdy, broad-beamed vessel built for hauling men and horses across the sea. To all appearances, it was just the sort of vessel that the patriarch of Rome might provide for his personal ambassador.

"Well, there is your boat," muttered Iwan. "Now what?"

Bran glanced around. The sun was low, and the wind freshening out of the west. The count and sheriff had picked up the pace and were drawing closer, expressions of keen anticipation lighting their watchful eyes. "Ride to the ship and secure it. Take Siarles and Jago with you. Go now before the Ffreinc prevent you."

"And what do you suggest I tell them when I take their ship?"

"Tell them the pope's ambassador needs it," replied Bran. "Tell them we will buy our passage. Tell them anything, but just secure it and keep the sailors out of sight when we get there."

Scowling with determination, Iwan signalled to Siarles and Jago, and all three galloped away. Bran, turning to Will, Merian, and Cinnia, quickly explained that they were to continue on in the wagon and, upon reaching the ship, they were to go aboard as if that was what had been intended from the start. "Whatever happens," he said hurriedly, "the two of you get down below deck and stay there. Merian," he said, dismounting and helping her down from the wagon, "you come with me."

Will, from his seat in the wagon, cast a last backward glance at the sheriff, then turned and set his face towards the river and the freedom waiting there.

Seeing the monks gallop off, Count Falkes and the sheriff rode directly to Father Dominic for an explanation. "Where are they going?" demanded de Glanville suspiciously.

"Que?" replied the envoy with a smile of incomprehension. He gestured towards the ship, waving and nodding as if to indicate that they had arrived at last and all was well. Lady Ghisella, who possessed a smattering of French, tried to explain. "They go to make ready the sailing," she said.

"You mean to leave tonight?" asked the count.

"But of course," replied the lady pleasantly. "It is the wish of His Eminence to leave at once."

The sheriff, unable to think of any reason why this should not be perfectly reasonable, looked to the count to mount an objection. "Are you certain?" Falkes said lamely. "It will be getting dark soon."

"It is the wish of His Eminence," the lady repeated, as if this was all the explanation required.

"Well," said the sheriff, "we will attend you to see that nothing is amiss." He lifted the reins and started down the road once more.

"Please, Lord Count," said Lady Ghisella, "you must not trouble yourself."

"But it is no trouble at all, my lady," replied the count. "If anything should happen to you while you remained in our care…" He allowed the thought to go unfinished. "Never fear," he said with a stiff, somewhat condescending laugh, "we will see you safely aboard and properly under sail. We could do no less for the pope's personal confidant."

"That is a relief, to be sure," replied Ghisella crisply. "I will tell His Eminence."

Although it made her uncomfortable to speak to the Ffreinc, her reticent, regal manner went a long way towards easing the count's suspicions. His attraction to her despite her undeniable plainness made him more willing to overlook his doubts. She relayed the count's sentiments to Father Dominic, who gave a nod of approval. "What are we to do now?" she asked, keeping her voice low to avoid being overheard.

"We see it through," Bran told her, "and hope for the best. Thank them, and walk on."