Merian gasped with joy, and Tuck, who caught most of what was said, chuckled and told the others standing round about.
"Oh, Bran," breathed Merian, giving Bran's shoulder a squeeze. Tuck relayed the terms to the Grellon and all those looking on. "The king has decided to be generous."
Baron Neufmarche and the king exchanged a brief word, and the baron said, "King William will accept the release of his sheriff now." He summoned the knights forward, and de Glanville was marched to the table.
"As a token of the peace we have sworn between us, I release him to your authority," said Bran. He motioned to his champion, standing behind Friar Tuck. "Iwan, cut him loose."
The big warrior stepped forward and, grinning with good pleasure at the astonishing turn events had taken, drew the knife from his belt and began cutting through the bonds at the sheriff 's wrists. The rawhide straps fell away, and with a sweep of his hand, Iwan indicated that the prisoner was free to go.
As Iwan replaced the knife and made to step back, de Glanville snatched the dagger from his belt and leaped forward. In the same swift movement, he drew back his hand and prepared to plunge the dagger into Bran's unprotected neck. The naked blade flashed forward and down. Tuck saw the arcing glint hard in the bright sunlight and gave out a yelp of warning. Iwan, startled, put out his hand.
But it was too late.
The knife slashed down a killing stroke.
Then, even as the cruel blade descended to its mark, the sheriff 's hand faltered and appeared to seize in its forward sweep. Halted, it hovered in midstroke. The knife point quivered, then fell to the ground.
It happened so fast that almost no one saw what had arrested the knife until Sheriff de Glanville let out a shriek of agony and crumpled to his knees. Only slowly, as if in a dream, did the stunned onlookers discover Will Scarlet standing over the sheriff, his own hand clamped tight over de Glanville's. He gave the captured hand a squeeze, and there was a meaty crunch and pop as the sheriff 's fingers gave way.
De Glanville gave out a roar of pain and anger and swung at Scarlet with his free hand. Tuck, snatching the crosier from Bishop Asaph's hand, grasped it like a quarterstaff and swung it once around his head and brought it down with a solid thump on the top of the sheriff 's head; de Glanville crumpled to the ground, where he lay on his side, whimpering and cradling his broken fingers.
"Stand him up!" commanded William with an airy wave of his hand. Turning to Bran he spoke with some sincerity. "His Majesty offers heartfelt apologies," Neufmarche translated. "He asks what you would like him to do with the rogue."
"I will leave that to Scarlet," replied Bran, looking to Will for an answer.
"Broken fingers are a long and painful reminder of a man's failure," replied the forester. "As I should know. I am satisfied if he takes that away with him-so long as we never have to see him again."
"That's a far sight more mercy than he deserves," said Bran. "And more than he ever showed you, Will."
"And is my husband not the better man?" said Noin, taking Will's arm.
Bran's decision was delivered to King William, who merely grunted. "This man is no longer one of my sheriffs. Remove him from our sight." Then, rising, he held out his hand to one of his knights. "Your sword," he said.
The knight drew his blade and handed it to the king, who turned to Bran. He spoke and indicated a place on the ground before him.
"His Majesty is saying that he must leave now if he is to reach Normandie in time to collect his tribute," Baron Neufmarche explained. "He says there is but one more thing he must do before he goes."
"Sire?" said Bran.
Again the king spoke and indicated the place on the ground at his feet.
"He says you are to kneel and swear your fealty to him," said Neufmarche.
Bran called Bishop Asaph to him. "Father, will you see that it is done properly?"
"Of course, Rhi Bran," said the old man. "It will be an honour." As the bishop took his place beside King William, Bran knelt and stretched out his hand to grasp the king's foot. William, holding the sword upright in both hands, directed his newest vassal in the age-old ceremony which bound man to lord, and lord to king. Bishop Asaph lofted his crosier and offered a prayer to seal the vow, and the simple rite was concluded.
William touched the edge of the sword to the back of Bran's neck and told him to rise. "You are now my liegeman, and I am your liege lord," the king told him, and Merian, standing near, interpreted. "Rule your realm in peace as God gives you strength."
"In the strength of God," replied Bran, "I will." As he said those words, he felt Merian slip her hand into his, and then he was caught up in the tremendous sea wave of acclamation that rose up from the long-suffering folk of Elfael, whose joy at seeing their king triumphant could not be contained.
King William called for his horse to be brought and his men to depart. "We will meet again, no doubt," he said.
"On the Feast of Saint John the Baptist," replied Bran.
"Rule well and wisely," said the king in English. He searched the crowd for a face, and found it. "And see you keep this man close to your throne," he said, pulling Tuck forward. "He has done you good service. If not for him, there would be no peace to celebrate this day."
"In truth, Your Majesty," said Bran. "I will keep him with me always."
That night Rhi Bran ap Brychan celebrated his return to the throne with the first of what would become many days of feasting, song, and merriment, and went to sleep in his own bed. And though in the days ahead he would often return to the greenwood to visit Angharad's grave and tell his Wise Banfaith how his kingdom fared, he never spent another night in the forest so long as he lived.
EPILOGUE
Nottingham, 1210
Rumour had it that King John had come north to hunt in the royal forest at Sherwood. His Majesty was lodged with High Sheriff Wendeval in the old castle on the mound overlooking the river. Thomas a'Dale, following the royal progress, had come to Nottingham hoping for a chance to perform for the king and add a royal endorsement to his name-and a handsome fee to his slack purse.
As he walked along the dirt track, humming to himself, he recalled the last time he had been here; it was with his father, when he was a boy learning the family trade. As he remembered, he had juggled while his father played the psaltery and sang the songs that made his family a fair living. Thomas remembered Nottingham as a good-sized city with a lively market and plenty of people from whom to draw the crowds a minstrel required. Passing quickly through the town now, he saw that the market was just opening and merchants beginning to set out their wares, including a pie man who carried his steaming gold treasures on a long plank from the bakery oven to his stall. The aroma brought the water to Thomas's mouth, and he felt the pinch in his empty stomach.
Still, hungry as he was, he did not dally. He marched straightaway to the castle and presented himself at the gate. "God bless you right well, sir," he addressed the gateman. "Is the lord of the manor at home?"
"He is," replied the grizzled veteran controlling the castle entrance, a man with one eye and one hand: both lost in some nameless battle or other. "Not that it is any business of your'n."
"Oh," replied Thomas lightly, "that is where you mistake me, sir. I am a minstrel, Thomas a'Dale by name. I've performed before the crowned heads of many a land, and now I've come to entertain the lord high sheriff and the king."