Tuck Read Online Free Page B

came the reply, and Bran appeared from behind a tree a few hundred paces away. “Over here!”
    The priest scrambled to him fast as he could, his short legs stumbling over the uneven ground. “We’re attacked!” he shouted, pointing with his staff. “They’ve come round to take us from behind.”
    “The devils!” shouted Bran, already running to head off the assault. “Iwan! Siarles! To me! The rest of you stay where you are and keep them busy. Make every arrow count!”
    The three archers reached the glade to find five mounted knights in a deadly clash with four Grellon. The knights were stabbing with spears and slashing with swords, and the Cymry danced just out of reach, darting in quickly to deliver clout after clout with their makeshift staffs.
    “Iwan—the two on the left,” ordered Bran, nocking an arrow to the string. “Siarles—the one on the right. I’ll take the two in the centre.” He grasped the string in his two-fingered grip, pressing the belly of the longbow forward until it bent full and round. “Now!”
    The word was hardly spoken when it was overtaken by a buzzing whine as Bran’s arrow streaked across the shadow-dappled distance.
    Before it had reached its mark, two more arrows were sizzling through the air. There was a sound like cloth ripping in the wind, and the knight in the centre of the swarm was thrown back over the cantle of his saddle and off the rear of his mount. Two more knights followed the first to the ground, and as the two remaining Ffreinc soldiers swerved to meet this new threat, they were set upon by the Cymry, who pulled them down from their horses and slew them with their own weapons.
    More knights were pounding into the glade now, charging in force. They came crashing through the underbrush in twos and threes. Tuck held his breath and tightened his grip on his staff. It seemed that Bran and the others must surely be overwhelmed. But the three bows sang as one, sending flight after flight of arrows streaking through the glade. Horses screamed and reared, throwing their riders, who were then set upon by the Grellon. Other soldiers, pierced by multiple shafts, simply dropped from the saddle, dead before they reached the ground.
    Four knights just coming into the grove were met by three others fleeing the slaughter. The four newcomers glimpsed the carnage, then wheeled their mounts and joined their comrades in quick retreat.
    “Get the weapons!” shouted Bran, already racing back to rejoin those at the front line. “Iwan, stay here and give a shout if any come back.”
    But the Ffreinc did not return to the attack.
    One long moment passed, and then another. No more knights entered the glade from behind, and none dared challenge the archers on the front line again. The lowering sun deepened the shadows in the grove and began to fill up the valleys, and still the attack did not come. The Grellon watched and waited, and asked themselves if they had beaten the enemy back. Finally, when it appeared the assault had foundered, Tuck joined Iwan and the two ran to find Bran at the edge of the grove.
    “What do you reckon, my lord?” asked Iwan. “Have we turned them aside?”
    “So it would appear,” Bran concluded.
    “I dearly hope so,” sighed Tuck. “All this rushing about is hard on an old fat man like me.”
    “But they may be waiting for us to show ourselves,” Bran suggested.
    “Or for nightfall,” Iwan said, “so they can take us under cover of darkness.”
    “Either way,” said Bran, making up his mind, “they will not find us here. Get everyone up and ready to move on.”
    The Grellon assembled once more and, like ghosts drifting away on the vapours of night, faded silently into the depths of the wood. The men had stripped the weapons from the enemy soldiers—swords and lances mostly, but also daggers, helmets, belts, and shields. Arrows were retrieved, and three uninjured horses led away, leaving the heavy saddles and tack behind.
    By the time the