"Dynevor --did you say Dynevor? O Eleanor, it must be he!"
A tall, slim, fair-faced maiden, with a very regal mien, looked up
quickly from an embroidery frame over which she was bending, and glanced
from the eager, flushed face of the younger girl who stood beside her to
that of a tall and stalwart English youth, who appeared to be the bearer
of a piece of news, and asked in her unconsciously queenly way:
"What is it, Sir Godfrey, that you have told this impetuous child, to
have set her in such a quiver of excitement?"
"Only this, gracious lady, that certain youthful chieftains from the
south have come hither to Rhuddlan to pay their homage to your royal
father. In his absence at Chester they have been lodged within the
castle walls, as becomes their station. It has been told me that amongst
them are four sons of one Res Vychan, lately dead, and that he was Lord
of Dynevor, which honour has descended to his eldest son. I was telling
what I knew to Lady Gertrude when she broke away to speak to you."
"Eleanor, it must be he -- it must be they!" cried Gertrude, with
flushing cheek and kindling eye -- "Res Vychan, Lord of Dynevor, and his
four sons. It could be none else than they. O Eleanor, sweet Eleanor,
bid them be brought hither to see us! Thou hast heard the story of how
we went thither, my father and I, two years agone now, and of what
befell me there. I have never heard a word of Wendot since, and I have
thought of him so oft. Thou art mistress here now; they all heed thy
lightest word. Bid that the brothers be brought hither to us. I do so
long to see them again!"
Gertrude was fairly trembling with excitement; but that was no unusual
thing for her, as she was an ardent, excitable little mortal, and ever
in a fever of some kind or another. The young knight who had brought the
news looked at her with unmistakable admiration and pleasure, and seemed
as though he would gladly have obeyed any behest of hers; but he was
fain to wait for the decision of the stately Eleanor, the king's eldest
and much-beloved child, who in the temporary absence of her parents
occupied a position of no little importance in the household, and whose
will, in the royal apartments at any rate, was law.
But there were other listeners to Gertrude's eager words. At the far end
of the long gallery, which was occupied by the royal children as their
private apartment, a group of three young things had been at play, but
the urgency of Gertrude's tones had arrested their attention, and they
had drawn near to hear her last words. One of these younger children was
a black-eyed girl, with a very handsome face and an imperious manner,
which gave to onlookers the idea that she was older than her years.
Quick tempered, generous, hasty, and self willed was the Lady Joanna,
the second daughter of the king; but her warm affections caused all who
knew her to love her; and her romantic temperament was always stirred to
its depths by any story that savoured of chivalry or heroism.
"What!" she cried; "is Wendot here -- Wendot of Dynevor, who held the
Eagle's Crag against half a hundred foemen to save thee, sweetest
Gertrude, from captivity or death? -- Eleanor, thou knowest the story;
thou must bid him hither at once! Why, I would thank him with my own
lips for his heroism. For is not Gertrude as our own sister in love?"
"Ay, Eleanor, bid him come," pleaded Alphonso, a fragile-looking boy a
year younger than Joanna, whose violet-blue eyes and fair skin were in
marked contrast to her gipsy-like darkness of complexion; and this
request was echoed eagerly by another boy, a fine, bold-looking lad,
somewhat older than Alphonso, by name Britten, who was brought up with
the king's children, and treated in every way like them, as the wardrobe
rolls of the period show, though what his rank and parentage were cannot
now be established, as no mention of him occurs in any other documents
of that time.
The Princess Eleanor, as she would now be called, although in those
far-back days the title of Lady was generally all that was bestowed upon
the children of the king, did not attempt to resist the combined
entreaties of her younger playfellows. Indeed, although somewhat mature
both in mind and appearance for her years, she was by no means devoid of
childish or feminine curiosity, and was as willing to see the hero of
Gertrude's oft-told tale as her more youthful companions could be.
Moreover, it was her father's policy and pleasure to be generous and
gracious towards all those who submitted themselves to his feudal
sovereignty; and to the young he ever showed himself friendly and even
paternal. The stern soldier-king was a particularly tender and loving
father, and his wife the best of mothers, so that the family tie in
their household was a very strong and beautiful thing. When the monarch
was called away from his own royal residences to quell sedition or
rebellion in this turbulent country of Wales, his wife and children
accompanied him thither; and so it happened that in this rather gloomy
fastness in North Wales, when the rebellion of the warlike Llewelyn had
but just been crushed, the king's children were to be found assembled
within its walls, by their bright presence and laughter-loving ways
making the place gay and bright, and bringing even into political
matters something of the leniency and good fellowship which seems to be
the prerogative of childhood.
Thus it was that one powerful and turbulent noble, Einon ap Cadwalader,
had left as hostage of his good faith his only child, the Lady Arthyn,
to be the companion of the king's daughters. She had been received with
open arms by the warm-hearted Joanna, and the two were fast friends
already, although the Welsh girl was several years the elder of the
pair. But Joanna, who had been educated in Spain by her grandmother and
namesake, and who had only recently come to be with her own parents, had
enjoyed abroad a liberty and importance which had developed her rapidly,
and her mind was as quick and forward as her body was active and energetic.
Intercourse with Arthyn, too, had given to the younger princess a great
sympathy with the vanquished Welsh, and she was generously eager that
those who came to pay homage to her father should not feel themselves in
a position that was humiliating or galling. The gentle Eleanor shared
this feeling to the full, and was glad to give to the young knight Sir
Godfrey Challoner, who was one of her own gentlemen-in-waiting, a
gracious message for the young Lord of Dynevor to the effect that she
would be glad to receive him and his brothers in her father's absence,
and to give them places at the royal table for the evening meal shortly
to be served.
Great was the delight of Gertrude when the message was despatched. Her
companions crowded round her to hear again the story of her adventure on
the Eagle's Crag. Gertrude never knew how she had been betrayed by
Wendot's brothers. She believed that they had been accidentally hindered
from coming to her rescue by the difficulties of the climb after the
eagle's nest. There was a faint, uncomfortable misgiving in her mind
with regard to the black-browed twins, but it did not amount to actual
suspicion, far less to any certainty of their enmity; and although
Eleanor had heard the whole story from her parents, she had not
explained the matter more fully to Gertrude.
An invitation from royalty was equal to a command, and the eager
children were not kept waiting long. The double doors at the end of the
long gallery, which had closed behind the retiring form of Godfrey,
opened once again to admit him, and closely in his wake there followed
two manly youths -- two, not four -- upon whose faces every eye was
instantly fixed in frank and kindly scrutiny.
Wendot had developed rapidly during these two last years, although he
retained all his old marked characteristics. The waving hair was still
bright and sunny, the open face, with its rather square features, was
resolute, alert, manly, and strong. The fearless blue eyes had not lost
their far-away dreaminess, as though the possessor were looking onward
and outward beyond the surroundings visible to others; and beneath the
calm determination of the expression was an underlying sweetness, which
shone out from time to time in the sunny smile which always won the
heart of the beholder. The figure was rather that of a man than a lad --
tall, strongly knit, full of grace and power; and a faint yellow
moustache upon the upper lip showed the dawn of manhood in the youth.
There was something in his look which seemed to tell that he had known
sorrow, trial, and anxiety; but this in no way detracted from the power
or attractiveness of the countenance, but rather gave it an added charm.
Griffeth retained his marked likeness to his brother, and was almost his
equal in height; but his cheek was pale and hollow, while Wendot's was
brown and healthy, his hands were slim and white, and there was an air
of languor and ill-health about him which could not fail to make itself
observed. He looked much younger than his brother, despite his tall
stature, and he blushed like a boy as he saw the eyes of the ladies
fixed upon them as they came forward, bowing with no ungraceful deference.
"Wendot, Wendot. don't you know me?"
The young man started and raised his eyes towards the speaker. So far,
he had only been aware that there were a number of persons collected at
the upper end of the long gallery. Now he found himself confronted by a
pair of eager, dancing eyes, as soft and dark as those of a forest deer,
whilst two slim hands were held out to him, and a silvery voice cried
softly and playfully:
"O Wendot, Wendot, to think you have forgotten!"
"Lady Gertrude!"
"Ah, I am glad you have not forgotten, though methinks I have changed
more than you these past years. I should have known you anywhere. But
come, Wendot; I would present you to my friends and companions, who
would fain be acquainted with you. They know how you saved my life that
day, I have told the tale so oft.
"Let me present you first to our sweetest Lady Eleanor, our great king's
eldest daughter. You will love her, I know -- none can help it. And she
lets me call myself her sister."
Young things have a wonderful faculty of growing intimate in a very
brief space, and the formalities of those simpler times were not
excessive, especially away from the trammels of the court. In ten
minutes' time Wendot and his brother had grasped the names and rank of
all those to whom they had been presented, and were joining in the eager
talk with ease and with enjoyment. Joanna stood beside Wendot,
listening, with unfeigned interest, to his answers respecting himself
and those near and dear to him; whilst Alphonso had drawn Griffeth to
the embrasure of a window, and was looking up into his face as they
compared notes and exchanged ideas. It seemed from the first as though a
strong link formed itself between those two.
"Your brothers would not come. Was that fear or shame or pride?" asked
Joanna, with a laughing look into Wendot's flushed face. "Nay, think not
that we would compel any to visit us who do it not willingly. Gertrude
has prepared us to find your brothers different from you. Methinks she
marvelled somewhat that they had come hither at all with their submission."
Wendot hesitated, and the flush deepened on his face; but he was too
young to have learned the lesson of reticence, and there was something
in the free atmosphere of this place which prompted him to frankness.
"I myself was surprised at it," he said. "Llewelyn and Howel have not
been friendly in their dealings with the English so far, and we knew
they aided Llewelyn of North Wales in the revolt which has been lately
quelled. But since our parents died we have seen but little of them.
They became joint owners of the commot of Iscennen, and removed from
Dynevor to the castle of Carregcennen in their own territory, and until
we met them some days since in company with our kinsman Meredith ap Hes,
coming to tender their homage, as we ourselves are about to do, we knew
not what to think of them or what action they would take."
"Are both your parents dead, then?" asked Gertrude, with sympathy in her
eyes. "I heard that Res Vychan was no longer living, but I knew not that
the gentle Lady of Dynevor had passed away also."
Wendot's face changed slightly as he answered:
"They both died within a few days of each other the winter after you had
been with us, Lady Gertrude. We were visited by a terrible sickness that
year, and our people sickened and died in great numbers. Our parents did
all they could for them, and first my father fell ill and died, and
scarce had the grave closed over him before our mother was stricken, and
followed him ere a week had passed. Griffeth was also lying at the point
of death, and we despaired of his life also; but he battled through, and
came back to us from the very gates of the grave, and yet methinks
sometimes that he has never been the same since. He shoots up in height,
but he cannot do the things he did when he was two years younger.
"What think you of him, sweet Lady Gertrude? Is he changed from what he
was when last you saw him, ere the sickness had fastened upon him?"
Several eyes were turned towards the slim, tall figure of the Welsh lad
leaning against the embrasure of the window. The sunlight fell full upon
his face, showing the sharpness of its outlines, the delicate hectic
colouring, the tracery of the blue veins beneath the transparent skin.
And just the same transparent look was visible in the countenance of the
young Prince Alphonso, who was talking with the stranger youth, and more
hearts than that of Wendot felt a pang as their owners' eyes were turned
upon the pair beside the sunny window. But Wendot pressed for no answer
to his question, nor did Gertrude volunteer it; she only asked quickly:
"Then Griffeth and you live yet at Dynevor, beautiful Dynevor, and
Llewelyn and Howel elsewhere?"
"Ay, at Carregcennen. We have our respective lands, though we are minors
yet; and our kinsman Meredith ap Res is our guardian, though it is
little we see of him."
"Meredith ap Res! I know him well," cried a girlish voice, in accents
which betrayed her Welsh origin. "He has ever been a traitor to his
country, a traitor to all who trust him; a covetous, grasping man, who
will clutch at what he can get, and never cease scheming after lands and
titles so long as the breath remains in him."
They all turned to see who had spoken, and Arthyn -- the headstrong,
passionate, patriotic Arthyn, who, despite her love for her present
companions, bitterly resented being left a hostage in the hands of the
English king -- stood out before them, and spoke in the fearless fashion
which nobody present resented.
"Wendot of Dynevor, if you are he, beware of that man, and bid your
brothers beware of him, too. I know him; I have heard much of him. Be
sure he has an eye on your fair lands, and he will embroil you yet with
the English king if he can, that he may lay claim to your patrimony. He
brings you here to the court to make your peace, to pay your homage. If
I mistake not the man, you will not all of you return whence you came.
He will poison the king's mind. Some traitorous practices will be
alleged against you. Your lands will be withheld. You will be fed with
promises which will never be fulfilled. And the kinsman who has sold
himself body and soul to the English alliance will rule your lands, in
your names firstly perchance, until his power is secure, and he can
claim them boldly as his own. See if it be not so."
"It shall not be so," cried Alphonso, suddenly advancing a step forward
and planting himself in the midst of the group.
His cheek was crimson now, there was fire in his eyes. He had all the
regal look of his royal father as he glanced up into Wendot's face and
spoke with an authority beyond his years.
"I, the king's son, give you my word of honour that this thing shall not
be. You are rightful Lord of Dynevor. You took not up arms against my
father in the late rebellion; you come at his command to pay your homage
to him. Therefore, whatever may be his dealings with your brothers who
have assisted the rebels, I pledge my princely word that you shall
return in peace to your own possessions. My father is a just and
righteous king, and I will be his surety that he will do all that is
right and just by you, Wendot of Dynevor."
"Well spoken, Alphonso!" cried Joanna and Britton in a breath, whilst
Wendot took the hand extended to him, and bent over it with a feeling of
loyal gratitude and respect.
There was something very lovable in the fragile young prince, and he
seemed to win the hearts of all who came within the charm of his
personal presence. He combined his father's fearless nobility with his
mother's sweetness of disposition. Had he lived to ascend the throne of
England, one of the darkest pages of its annals might never have been
written.
But this hot discussion was brought to an end by the appearance of the
servants, who carried in the supper, laying it upon a long table at the
far end of the gallery. No great state was observed even in the royal
household, when the family was far away from the atmosphere of the court
as it was held at Westminster or Windsor.
A certain number of servants were in attendance. There were a few
formalities gone through in the matter of tasting of dishes served to
the royal children, but they sat round the table without ceremony; and
when the chaplain had pronounced a blessing, which was listened to
reverently by the young people, who were all very devout and responsive
to religious influences, the unconstrained chatter began again almost at
once, and the Welsh lads lost all sense of strangeness as they sat at
the table of the king's children.
"Our father and mother will not return for several days yet," said
Joanna to Wendot, whom she had placed between herself and Gertrude; "but
we have liberty to do what we wish and to go where we like.
"Say, Gertrude, shall we tell Wendot on what we have set our hearts? It
may be he would help us to our end."
"I would do anything you bid me, gracious lady," answered Wendot with
boyish chivalry.
The girls were eying each other with flushed faces, their voices were
lowered so that they should not reach the ears of the Lady Edeline,
Joanna's governess, who was seated at the board, although she seldom
spoke unless directly addressed by Eleanor, who seemed to be on friendly
terms with her.
"Wendot," whispered Joanna cautiously, "have you ever hunted a wolf in
your mountains?"
"Ay, many a time, though they be more seldom seen now. But we never rid
ourselves altogether of them, do as we will."
"And have you killed one yourself?"
"Yes, I have done that, too."
"And is it very dangerous?"
"I scarce know; I never thought about it. I think not, if one is well
armed and has dogs trained to their duties."
Joanna's eyes were alight with excitement; her hands were locked
together tightly. Her animated face was set in lines of the greatest
determination and happiest anticipation.
"Wendot," she said, "there is a wolf up yonder in that wild valley we
can see from yon window, as you look towards the heights of Snowdon.
Some of our people have seen and tracked it, but they say it is an old
and wily one, and no one has got near it yet. Wendot, we have set our
hearts on having a wolf hunt of our very own. We do not want all the men
and dogs and the stir and fuss which they would make if we were known to
be going. I know what that means. We are kept far away behind everybody,
and only see the dead animal after it has been killed miles away from
us. We want to be in the hunt ourselves -- Britten, Alphonso, Arthyn,
Gertrude, and I. Godfrey would perhaps be won over if Gertrude begged
him, and I know Raoul Latimer would -- he is always ready for what turns
up -- but that would not be enough. O Wendot, if you and your brothers
would but come, we should be safe without anybody else. Raoul has dogs,
and we could all be armed, and we would promise to be very careful. We
could get away early, as Gertrude did that day she slipped off to the
Eagle's Crag.
"Wendot, do answer -- do say you will come. You understand all about
hunting, even hunting wolves. You are not afraid?"
Wendot smiled at the notion. He did not entirely understand that he was
requested to take part in a bit of defiant frolic which the young
princes and princesses were well aware would not have been permitted by
their parents. All he grasped was that the Lady Joanna requested his
assistance in a hunt which she had planned, and with the details of
which he was perfectly familiar, and he agreed willingly to her request,
not sorry, either for his own sake or for that of his more discontented
brothers, that the monotony of the days spent in waiting the return of
the king should be beguiled by anything so attractive and exciting as a
wolf hunt.
The Dynevor brothers had often hunted wolves before, and saw no special
peril in the sport; and Joanna and Gertrude felt that not even the most
nervous guardian could hesitate to let them go with such a stout protector.
"I do like him, Gertrude," said Joanna, when Wendot and his brother had
retired. "I hope if I ever have to marry, as people generally do,
especially if they are king's daughters, that I shall find somebody as
brave and handsome and knightly as your Wendot of Dynevor."
For Gertrude and Joanna both took the view that the breaking of the
king's gold coin between them was equivalent to the most solemn of troth
plights.