Hood by Stephen R. Lawhead Read Free Book Online

the woman. “Rhi Brychan is dead!”
    “He is,” Bran replied, pulling the two whimpering girls from her grasp.
    “And all who rode with him?”
    “Gone,” he confirmed. “And we will mourn them properly when we have rid ourselves of these scabby Ffreinc thieves. But you must listen to me now. As soon as I am gone, Maelgwnt will take everyone to Llanelli. Stay there until I return. The Ffreinc will not harm you if you remain at the monastery with the monks. Do you hear me?”
    The woman nodded, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Bran turned her and pushed her gently away. “Off with you now! Hurry and bring the food to the yard.”
    Next, Bran dashed to his father’s chamber and to the small wooden casket where the king kept his ready money. The real treasure was kept in the strongbox that Maelgwnt would see hidden at the monastery—two hundred marks in English silver. The smaller casket contained but a few marks used for buying at the market, paying for favours, bestowing largesse on the tenants, and other occasional uses.
    There were four bags of coins in all—more than enough to see them safely to Lundein and back. Bran scooped up the little leather bags, stuffed them into his shirt, then ran back out to the yard, where Brother Ffreol was just coming through the gate, leading Iwan on horseback behind him.
    “Iwan, what are you doing here?” Bran asked, running to meet them. “You should stay at the monastery where they can tend you.”
    “Save your breath,” advised Ffreol. “I’ve already tried to dissuade him, but he refuses to heed a word I say.”
    “I am going with you,” the battlechief declared flatly.
    “That is the end of it.”
    “You are wounded,” Bran pointed out needlessly.
    “Not so badly that I cannot sit in a saddle,” answered the big man. “I want to see the look in the Red King’s eye when we stand before him and demand justice. And,” he added, “if a witness to this outrage is required, then you will have one.”
    Bran opened his mouth to object once more, but Ffreol said, “Let him be. If he feels that way about it, nothing we say will discourage him, and stubborn as he is, he’d only follow us anyway.”
    Glancing toward the stable, Bran muttered, “What is keeping Cefn?” He shouted for the groom to hurry; when that brought no response, he started for the stable to see what was taking so long.
    Brother Ffreol held him back, saying, “Calm yourself, Bran. You’ve been running all day. Rest when you can. We will be on our way soon enough.”
    “Not soon enough for me,” he cried, racing off to the stable to help Cefn finish saddling the horses. They were leading two mares into the yard when Mairead appeared with her two kitchen helpers, each carrying a cloth sack bulging with provisions. While the priest blessed the women and prayed over them, Bran and Cefn arranged the tuck bags behind the saddles and strapped them down, secreting the money in the folds. “Come, Ffreol,” Bran said, taking the reins from the groom and mounting the saddle, “if they catch us here, all is lost.”
    “. . . and may the Lord make his face to shine upon you and give you his peace through all things whatsoever may befall you,” intoned the priest, bestowing a kiss on the bowed head of each woman in turn. “Amen. Now off with you! Help Maelgwnt, and then all of you hie to Llanelli as soon as you can.”
    The sun was already low in the west by the time the three riders crossed the stream and started up the long rising slope toward the edge of the forest; their shadows stretched long on the road, going before them like spindly, misshapen ghosts. They rode in silence until entering the shady margin of the trees.
    Coed Cadw, the Guarding Wood, was a dense tangle of ancient trees: oak, elm, lime, plane—all the titans of the wood. Growing amongst and beneath these giants were younger, smaller trees and thickets of hazel and beech. The road itself was lined with blackberry brambles that