The four sons of Res Vychan went back to Dynevor together, there to
settle down, outwardly at least, to a quiet and uneventful life, chiefly
diversified by hunting and fishing, and such adventures as are
inseparable from those pastimes in which eager lads are engrossed.
Wendot both looked and felt older for his experiences in the castle of
Rhuddlan. His face had lost much of its boyishness, and had taken a
thoughtfulness beyond his years. Sometimes he appeared considerably
oppressed by the weight of the responsibility with which he had charged
himself, and would watch the movements and listen to the talk of the
twins with but slightly concealed uneasiness.
Yet as days merged into weeks, and weeks lengthened into months, and
still there had been nothing to alarm him unduly, he began, as the
inclement winter drew on, to breathe more freely; for in the winter
months all hostilities of necessity ceased, for the mountain passes were
always blocked with snow, and both travelling and fighting were
practically out of the question for a considerable time.
Wendot, too, had matters enough to occupy his mind quite apart from the
charge of his two haughty brothers. He had his own estates to administer
-- no light task for a youth not yet eighteen -- and his large household
to order; and though Griffeth gave him every help, Llewelyn and Howel
stood sullenly aloof, and would not appear to take the least interest in
anything that appertained to Dynevor, although they gave no reason for
their conduct, and were not in other ways unfriendly to their brothers.
The country was for the time being quiet and at peace. Exhausted by its
own internal struggles and by the late disastrous campaign against the
English, the land was, as it were, resting and recruiting itself, in
preparation, perhaps, for another outbreak later on. In the meantime,
sanguine spirits like those of Wendot and Griffeth began to cherish
hopes that the long and weary struggle was over at last, and that the
nation, as a nation, would begin to realize the wisdom and the advantage
of making a friend and ally of the powerful monarch of England, instead
of provoking him to acts of tyranny and retaliation by perpetual and
fruitless rebellions against a will far too strong to be successfully
resisted.
But Llewelyn and Howel never spoke of the English without words and
looks indicative of the deepest hatred; and the smouldering fire in
their breasts was kept glowing and burning by the wild words and the
wilder songs of the old bard Wenwynwyn, who spent the best part of his
time shut up in his own bare room, with his harp for his companion, in
which room Llewelyn and Howel spent much of their time during the dark
winter days, when they could be less and less out of doors.
Since that adventure of the Eagle's Crag, Wendot had distrusted the old
minstrel, and was uneasy at the influence he exercised upon the twins;
but the idea of sending him from Dynevor was one which never for a
moment entered his head. Had not Wenwynwyn grown old in his father's
service? Had he not been born and bred at Dynevor? The young lord
himself seemed to have a scarce more assured right to his place there
than the ancient bard. Be he friend or be he foe, at Dynevor he must
remain so long as the breath remained in his body.
The bard was, by hereditary instinct, attached to all the boys, but of
late there had been but little community of thought between him and his
young chieftain. Wendot well knew the reason. The old man hated the
English with the bitter, unreasoning, deadly hatred of his wild,
untutored nature. Had he not sprung from a race whose lives had been
spent in rousing in the breasts of all who heard them the most fervent
and unbounded patriotic enthusiasm? And was it to be marvelled at that
he could not see or understand the changes of the times or the
hopelessness of the long struggle, now that half the Welsh nobles were
growing cool in the national cause, and the civilization and wealth of
the sister country were beginning to show them that their own condition
left much to be desired, and that there was something better and higher
to be achieved than a so-called liberty, only maintained at the cost of
perpetual bloodshed? or a series of petty feuds for supremacy, which
went far to keep the land in a state of semi-barbarism?
So the old bard sang his wild songs, and Llewelyn and Howel sat by the
glowing fire of logs that blazed in the long winter evenings upon his
hearth, listening to his fierce words, and hardening their hearts and
bracing their wills against any kind of submission to a foreign yoke. A
burning hatred against the English king also consumed them. Had they
not, at the cost of most bitter humiliation, gone to him as vassals,
trusting to his promise that all who did homage for their lands should
be confirmed in peaceful possession of the same? And how had he treated
this act of painful submission? Was it greatly to be wondered at that
their hearts burned with an unquenchable hatred? To them Edward stood as
the type of all that was cruel and treacherous and grasping. They
brooded over their wrongs by day and by night; they carried their dark
looks with them when they stirred abroad or when they rested at home.
Wenwynwyn sympathized as none besides seemed to do, and he became their
great solace and chief counsellor.
Wendot might uneasily wonder what passed in that quiet room of the old
man's, but he never knew or guessed. He would better have liked to hear
Llewelyn burst forth into the old passionate invective. He was uneasy at
this chronic state of gloom and sullen silence on the vexed question of
English supremacy. But seldom a word passed the lips of either twin.
They kept their secret -- if secret they had -- locked away in their own
breasts. And days and weeks and months passed by, and Wendot and
Griffeth seemed almost as much alone at Dynevor as they had been after
their father's death, when Llewelyn and Howel had betaken themselves to
their castle of Carregcennen.
But at least, if silent and sullen, they did not appear to entertain any
plan likely to raise anxiety in Wendot's mind as to the pledge he had
given to the king. They kept at home, and never spoke of Iscennen, and
as the winter passed away and the spring began to awaken the world from
her long white sleep, they betook themselves with zest to their pastime
of hunting, and went long expeditions that sometimes lasted many days,
returning laden with spoil, and apparently in better spirits from the
bracing nature of their pursuits.
Griffeth, who had felt the cold somewhat keenly, and had been drooping
and languid all the winter, picked up strength and spirit as the days
grew longer and warmer, and began to enjoy open-air life once more.
Wendot was much wrapped up in this young brother of his, who had always
been dearer to him than any being in the world besides.
Since he had been at death's door with the fever, Griffeth had never
recovered the robustness of health which had hitherto been the
characteristic of the Dynevor brothers all their lives. He was active
and energetic when the fit was on him, but he wearied soon of any active
sport. He could no longer bound up the mountain paths with the fleetness
and elasticity of a mountain deer, and in the keen air of the higher
peaks it was difficult for him to breathe.
Still in the summer days he was almost his former self again, or so
Wendot hoped; and although Griffeth's lack of rude health hindered both
from joining the long expeditions planned and carried out by the twins,
it never occurred to Wendot to suspect that there was an ulterior motive
for these, or to realize how unwelcome his presence would have been had
he volunteered it, in lieu of staying behind with Griffeth, and
contenting himself with less adventurous sports.
Spring turned to summer, and summer to autumn, and life at Dynevor
seemed to move quietly enough. Griffeth took a fancy to book learning --
a rare enough accomplishment in those days -- and a monk from the Abbey
of Strata Florida was procured to give him instruction in the obscure
science of reading and writing. Wendot, who had a natural love of study,
and who had been taught something of these mysteries by his mother --
she being for the age she lived in a very cultivated woman -- shared his
brother's studies, and delighted in the acquirement of learning.
But this new development on the part of the Lord of Dynevor and his
brother seemed to divide them still more from the two remaining sons of
Res Vychan; and the old bard would solemnly shake his head and predict
certain ruin to the house when its master laid aside sword for pen, and
looked for counsel to the monk and missal instead of to his good right
hand and his faithful band of armed retainers.
Wendot and Griffeth would smile at these dark sayings, and loved their
studies none the less because they opened out before them some better
understanding of the blessings of peace and culture upon a world harried
and exhausted with perpetual, aimless strife; but their more enlightened
opinions seemed but to widen the breach between them and their brothers,
and soon they began to be almost strangers to each other.
Wendot and Griffeth regretted this without seeing how to mend matters.
They felt sorry for Llewelyn and Howel, deprived of the employments and
authority they had enjoyed of late, and would have gladly given them a
share of authority in Dynevor; but this they would not accept, drawing
more and more away into themselves, and sharing their confidences with
no one except Wenwynwyn.
The summer was now on the wane, and the blustering winds of the equinox
had begun to moan about the castle walls. The men were busy getting in
the last of the fruits of the earth and storing them up against the
winter need, whilst the huntsmen brought in day by day stores of venison
and game, which the women salted down for consumption during the long
dreary days when snow should shut them within their own walls, and no
fresh meat would be obtainable.
It was a busy season, and Wendot had time and mind alike full. He heeded
little the movements of his brothers, whom he thought engrossed in the
pleasures of the chase. He was not even aware that old Wenwynwyn was
absent for several days from the castle, for since the estrangement
between him and the old man he was often days at a time without
encountering him.
Llewelyn and Howel were visibly restless just now. They did not go far
from the castle, nor did they seem interested in the spoil the hunters
brought home. But they spent many long hours in the great gallery where
the arms of the retainers were laid up, and their heads were often to be
seen close together in deep discussion, although if any person came near
to disturb them they would spring asunder, or begin loudly discussing
some indifferent theme.
They were in this vast, gloomy place, sitting together in the deep
embrasure of one of the narrow windows as the daylight began to fail,
when suddenly they beheld Wenwynwyn stalking through the long gallery as
if in search of them, and they sprang forward to greet him with
unconcealed eagerness.
"Thou hast returned."
"Ay, my sons, I have returned, and am the bearer of good news. But this
is not the place to speak. Stones have ears, and traitors abound even in
these hoary walls which have echoed to the songs of the bard for more
years than man can count. Ah, woe the day; ah, woe the falling off! That
I should live to see the sons of Dynevor thus fall away -- the young
eaglets leaving their high estate to grovel with the carrion vulture and
the coward crow! Ah! in old days it was not so. But there are yet those
of the degenerate race in whom the spirit of their fathers burns. Come,
my sons -- come hither with me. I bring you a message from Iscennen that
will gladden your hearts to hear."
The boys pressed after him up the narrow, winding stair that led to the
room the bard called his own. It was remote from the rest of the castle,
and words spoken within its walls could be heard by none outside. It was
a place that had heard much plotting and planning ere now, and what was
to be spoken tonight was but the sequel of what had gone before.
"Speak, Wenwynwyn, speak!" cried the twins in a breath. "Has he returned
thither?"
"Ay, my sons; he has come back in person to receive his 'dues,' and to
look into all that has passed in his absence. These eyes have seen the
false, smiling face of the usurper, who sits in the halls which have
rung to the sound of yon harp in days when the accursed foot of the
stranger would have been driven with blows from the door. He is there,
and --"
"And they hate and despise and contemn him," cried Llewelyn in wild
excitement. "Every man of Iscennen is his foe. Do not I know it? Have we
not proved it? There is no one but will rise at the sound of my trumpet,
to follow me to victory or death.
"Wenwynwyn, speak! thou hast bid us wait till the hour has come till all
things be ripe for action. Tell us, has not that hour come? Hast thou
not come to bid us draw the sword, and wrest our rightful inheritance
from the hand of the spoiler and alien?"
"Ay, verily, that hour has come," cried the old bard, with a wild
gesture. "The spoiler is there, lurking in his den. His eyes are roving
round in hungry greed to spoil the poor man of his goods, to wrest the
weapon from the strong. He is fearful in the midst of his state --
fearful of those he calls his vassals -- those he would crush with his
iron glove, and wring dry even as a sponge is wrung. Ay, the hour is
come. The loyal patriots have looked upon your faces, my sons, and see
in you their liberators. Go now, when the traitor whose life you saved
is gloating over his spoil in his castle walls. Go and show him what it
is to rob the young lions of their prey; show him what it is to strive
with eagles, when only the blood of the painted jay runs in his craven
veins. Saw I not fear, distrust, and hatred in every line of that smooth
face? Think you that he is happy in the possession of what he sold his
soul to gain? Go, and the victory will be yours. Go; all Iscennen will
be with you. Wenwynwyn has not sung his songs in vain amongst those
hardy people! He has prepared the way. Go! victory lies before you."
The boys' hearts swelled within them at these words. It was not for
nothing that they, with their own faithful followers, sworn to secrecy,
had absented themselves again and again from Dynevor Castle on the
pretence of long hunting expeditions. It was true that they had hunted
game, that they had brought home abundance of spoil with them; but
little had Llewelyn or Howel to do with the taking of that prey. They
had been at Iscennen; they had travelled the familiar tracks once again,
and had found nothing but the most enthusiastic welcome from their own
people, the greatest hatred for the foreign lordling, who had been
foisted upon them by edict of the king.
Truly Raoul Latimer had won but a barren triumph in gaining for himself
the lands of Iscennen. A very short residence there had proved enough
for him, and he had withdrawn, in fear that if he did not do so some
fatal mischance would befall him. He had reigned there as an absentee
ever since, not less cursed and hated for the oppressive measures taken
in his name than when he had been the active agent.
Matters were ripe for revolt. There only wanted the time and the
occasion. The leader was already to hand -- the old lord, young in
years, Llewelyn ap Res Vychan, and Howel his brother. With the twins at
their head, Iscennen would rise to a man; and then let Raoul Latimer
look to himself! For the Welsh, when once aroused to strike, struck
hard; and it cannot be denied that they ofttimes struck treacherously
beside.
Small wonder if, as Wenwynwyn declared, young Raoul had found but small
satisfaction in his visit to his new estate, and lived upon it in terror
of his very life, though surrounded by the solid walls of his own castle.
The hour had come. Llewelyn and Howel were about to taste the keen joy
of revenging themselves upon a foe they hated and abhorred, about to
take at least one step towards reinstating themselves in their ancestral
halls. But the second object was really less dear to them than the
first. If the hated Raoul could be slain, or made to fly in ignominy and
disgrace, they cared little who reigned in his place. Their own tenure
at Carregcennen under existing circumstances they knew to be most
insecure, and although they had organized and were to lead the attack,
they were to do so disguised, and those who knew the share they were to
take were pledged not to betray it.
Loose as had grown the bond between the brothers of late, the twins were
not devoid of a certain rude code of honour of their own, and had no
wish to involve Wendot in ruin and disgrace. He was surety for their
good behaviour, and if it became known to Edward that they had led the
attack on one of his English subjects, Dynevor itself might pay the
forfeit of his displeasure, and Wendot might have to answer with his
life, as he had offered to do, for his brothers. Thus, though this
consideration was not strong enough to keep the twins from indulging
their ungovernable hatred to their foe, it made them cautious about
openly appearing in the matter themselves; and when, upon a wild,
blustering night not many days later, a little band of hardy Welshmen,
all armed to the teeth, crept with the silent caution of wild beasts
along a rocky pathway which led by a subterranean way, known only to
Llewelyn and Howel, into the keep of the castle itself; none would have
recognized in the blackened faces of the two leaders, covered, as they
appeared to be, with a tangled growth of hair and beard, the
countenances of the sons of Res Vychan; whilst the stalwart, muscular
figures seemed rather to belong to men than lads, and assisted the
disguise not a little.
The hot-headed but by no means intrepid young Englishman, who had not
had the courage to remain long in the possessions he had coveted, and
who was fervently wishing that this second visit was safely over, was
aroused from his slumbers by the clash of arms, and by the terrified
cries of the guard he always placed about him.
"The Welsh wolves are upon us!" he heard a voice cry out in the
darkness. "We are undone -- betrayed! Every man for himself! They are
murdering every soul they meet."
In a passion of rage and terror Raoul sprang from his bed, and commenced
hurrying into his clothes as fast as his trembling hands would allow
him. In vain he called to his servants; they had every man of them fled.
Below he heard the clash of arms, and the terrible guttural cries with
which the Welsh always rushed into battle, and which echoed through the
halls of Carregcennen like the trump of doom.
It was a terrible moment for the young Englishman, alone, half-armed,
and at the mercy of a merciless foe. He looked wildly round for some
means of escape. The tread of many feet was on the stairs. To attempt
resistance was hopeless. Flight was the only resource left him, and in a
mad impulse of terror he flung himself on the floor, and crept beneath
the bed, the arras of which concealed him from sight. There he lay
panting and trembling, whilst the door was burst open and armed men came
flocking in.
"Ha, flown already!" cried a voice which did not seem entirely
unfamiliar to the shivering youth, though he could not have said exactly
to whom it belonged, and was in no mood to cudgel his brains on the subject.
He understood too little of the Welsh tongue to follow what was said,
but with unspeakable relief he heard steps pass from the room; for even
his foes did not credit him with the cowardice which would drive a man
to perish like a rat in a hole rather than sword in hand like a knight
and a soldier.
The men had dashed out, hot in pursuit, believing him to be attempting
escape through some of the many outlets of the castle; and Raoul, still
shivering and craven, was just creeping out from his hiding place,
resolved to try to find his way to the outer world, when he uttered a
gasp and stood or rather crouched spellbound where he was; for, standing
beside a table on which the dim light of a night candle burned, binding
up a gash in his arm with a scarf belonging to the Englishman, was a
tall, stalwart, soldierly figure, that turned quickly at the sound made
by the wretched Raoul.
"Spare me, spare me!" cried the miserable youth, as the man with a quick
movement grasped his weapon and advanced towards him.
He did not know if his English would be understood, but it appeared to
be, for the reply was spoken in the same tongue, though the words had
strong Welsh accent.
"And wherefore should I spare you? What have you done that we of
Iscennen should look upon you as other than a bitter foe? By what right
are you here wringing our life blood from us? Why should I not stamp the
miserable life out of you as you lie grovelling at my feet? Wales were
well quit of such craven hounds as you."
"Spare me, and I renounce my claim. I swear by all that is holy that if
you will but grant me my life I will repair to the king's court without
delay, and I will yield up to him every claim which I have on these
lands. I swear it by all that is holy in heaven and earth."
"And what good shall we reap from that? We shall but have another
English tyrant set over us. Better kill thee outright, as a warning to
all who may come after."
But Raoul clasped the knees of his foe, and lifted his voice again in
passionate appeal.
"Kill me not; what good would that do you or your cause? I tell you it
would but raise Edward's ire, and he would come with fire and sword to
devastate these lands as I have never done. Listen, and I will tell you
what I will do. Spare but my life, and I will entreat the king to
restore these lands to your feudal lords, Llewelyn and Howel ap Res
Vychan. It was by my doing that they were wrested from them. I confess
it freely now. Grant me but my life, and I will undo the work I have
done. I will restore to you your youthful chiefs. Again I swear it; and
I have the ear of his Grace. If thou hast thy country's cause at heart
thou wilt hear me in this thing. I will give you back the lords you all
love. I will trouble you no more myself. I would I had never seen this
evil place. It has been nought but a curse to me from the day it was
bestowed."
The man uttered a harsh laugh, and stood as if considering. Raoul, whose
eyes never left the shining blade his foe held suspended in his hand,
pleaded yet more and more eloquently, and, as it seemed, with some
effect, for the soldier presently sheathed his weapon, and bid the
wretched youth rise and follow him. Raoul obeying, soon found himself in
the presence of a wild crew of Welsh kerns, who were holding high
revelry in the banqueting hall, whilst his own English servants --
those, at least, who had not effected their escape -- lay dead upon the
ground, the presence of bleeding corpses at their very feet doing
nothing to check the savage mirth and revelry of the victors, who had
been joined by the whole of the Welsh garrison, only too glad of an
excuse for rising against the usurper.
A silence fell upon the company as the dark-bearded soldier marched his
captive into the hall, the yell of triumph being hushed by commanding
gesture from the captor. A long and unintelligible debate followed,
Raoul only gathering from the faces of those present what were their
feelings towards him. He stood cowering and quaking before that fierce
assembly -- a pitiful object for all eyes. But at length his captor
briefly informed him that his terms were accepted: that if he would
write his request to the king and obtain its fulfilment, he should go
free with a whole skin; but that, pending the negotiation, which could
be carried on by the fathers of the Abbey of Strata Florida, he would
remain a close prisoner, and his ransom would be the king's consent.
These were the best terms the unhappy Raoul could obtain for himself,
and he was forced to abide by them. The fathers of the abbey were honest
and trustworthy, and carried his letters to the king as soon as they had
penned them for him. Raoul was clever in diplomatic matters, and was so
anxious for his own safety that he took good care not to drop a hint as
to the evil conduct of the people of Iscennen, which might draw upon
them the royal wrath and upon him instant death. He simply represented
that he was weary of his charge of this barren estate, that he preferred
life in England and at the court, and found the revenues very barren and
unprofitable. As the former owners had redeemed their character by quiet
conduct during the past year and a half, his gracious Majesty, he
hinted, might be willing to gratify them and their people by reinstating
them.
And when Edward read this report, and heard the opinion of the father
who had brought it -- a wily and a patriotic Welshman, who knew how to
plead his cause well -- he made no trouble about restoring to Llewelyn
and Howel their lands, only desiring that Wendot should renew his pledge
for their loyalty and good conduct, and still hold himself responsible
for his brothers to the king.
And so Llewelyn and Howel went back to Carregcennen, and Wendot and
Griffeth remained at Dynevor, hoping with a fond hope that this act of
clemency and justice on the part of Edward would overcome in the mind of
the twins the deeply-seated hatred they had cherished so long.