"Wendot, Wendot, it is our country's call! Thou canst not hang back.
United we stand; divided we fall. Will the Prince of Dynevor be the man
to bring ruin upon a noble cause, by banding with the alien oppressor
against his own brethren? I will not believe it of thee. Wendot, speak
-- say that thou wilt go with us!"
Wendot was standing in his own hall at Dynevor. In the background was a
crowd of retainers and soldiers, so eagerly discussing some matter of
vital interest that the brothers stepped outside upon the battlemented
terrace to be out of hearing of the noise of their eager voices.
There was a deep gravity on Wendot's face, which was no longer the face
of a boy, but of a youth of two-and-twenty summers, and one upon whom
the cares and responsibilities of life had sat somewhat heavily. The
tall, well-knit frame had taken upon it the stature and developed grace
of manhood; the sun-browned face was lined with traces of thought and
care, though the blue eyes sparkled with their old bright and ready
smile, and the stern lines of the lips were shaded and hidden by the
drooping moustache of golden brown. There were majesty, power, and
intellect stamped upon the face of the young Lord of Dynevor, and it was
very plain to all who observed his relations with those about him that
he was master of his own possession, and that though he was greatly
beloved by all who came in contact with him, he was respected and
obeyed, and in some things feared.
By his side stood Griffeth, almost as much his shadow as of yore. To a
casual observer the likeness between the brothers was very remarkable,
but a closer survey showed many points of dissimilarity. Griffeth's
figure was slight to spareness, and save in moments of excitement there
was something of languor in his movements. The colour in his cheeks was
not the healthy brown of exposure to sun and wind, but the fleeting
hectic flush of long-standing insidious disease, and his eyes had a
far-away look -- dreamy and absorbed; whilst those of his brother
expressed rather watchful observation of what went on around him, and
resolution to mould those about him to his will.
Facing this fair-haired pair were the twin Lords of Iscennen,
considerably changed from the sullen-looking lads of old days, but still
with many of their characteristics unchanged. They were taller and more
stoutly built than Wendot and Griffeth, and their dark skins and
coal-black hair gave something of ferocity and wildness to their
appearance, which look was borne out by the style of dress adopted,
whilst the young Lords of Dynevor affected something of the refinement
and richness of apparel introduced by the English.
For the past years a friendly intercourse had been kept up between
Dynevor and Carregcennen. The country had been at peace -- such peace as
internal dissensions would allow it -- and no one had disturbed the sons
of Res Vychan in the possession of their ancestral rights. The tie
between the brothers had therefore been more closely drawn, and Wendot's
responsibility for the submissive behaviour of the turbulent twins had
made him keep a constant eye upon them, and had withheld them on their
side from attempting to foment the small and fruitless struggles against
English authority which were from time to time arising between the
border-land chief and the Lords of the Marches.
But now something very different was in the wind. After almost five
years of peace with England, revolt had broken out in North Wales.
David, the brother of Llewelyn, had commenced it, and the prince had
followed the example thus set him. He had broken out into open
rebellion, and had summoned the whole nation to stand by him in one
united and gallant effort to free the country from the foreign foe, and
unite it once again as an undivided province beneath the rule of one
sovereign.
The call was enthusiastically responded to. North Wales rose as one man,
and flocked to the banners of the prince and his brother. South Wales
was feeling the contagion of coming strife, and the pulse of the nation
beat wildly at the thought that they might win liberty by the overthrow
of the foe. One after another the petty chiefs, who had sworn fealty to
Edward, renounced their allegiance, and mustered their forces to join
those of Llewelyn and David. The whole country was in a wild ferment of
patriotic excitement. The hour seemed to them to have arrived when all
could once again band together in triumphant vindication of their
national rights.
Llewelyn and Howel ap Res Vychan were amongst the first to tender their
allegiance to the cause, and, having sent on a compact band of armed men
to announce their coming in person, had themselves hurried to Dynevor to
persuade their brothers there to join the national cause.
And they found Wendot less indisposed than they had feared. The five
years which had passed over his head since he had fallen under the spell
of the English king's regal sway had a good deal weakened the impression
then made upon him. Edward had not visited the country in person since
that day, and the conduct of the English Lords of the Marches, and of
those who held lands in the subjected country, was not such as to endear
their cause to the hearts of the sons of Wales. Heart-burnings and
jealousies were frequent, and Wendot had often had his spirit stirred
within him at some tale of outrage and wrong. The upright justice of the
king was not observed by his subjects, and the hatred to any kind of
foreign yoke was inherently strong in these sons of the mountains. In
the studies the Dynevor brothers had prosecuted together they had
imbibed many noble thoughts and many lofty aspirations, and these,
mingling with the patriotic instinct so strongly bound up in the hearts
of Cambria's sons, had taught them a distrust of princes and an intense
love for freedom's cause, as well as a strong conviction that right must
ever triumph over might.
So when the news arrived that the north was in open revolt, it struck a
chord in the hearts of both brothers; and when the dark-browed twins
came with the news that they had openly joined the standard of Llewelyn,
they did not encounter the opposition they had expected, and it was with
an eager hopefulness that they urged upon the Lord of Dynevor to lend
the strength of his arm to the national cause.
"Wendot, bethink thee. When was not Dynevor in the van when her country
called on her? If thou wilt go with us, we shall carry all the south
with us; but hang thou back, and the cause may be lost. Brother, why
dost thou hesitate? why dost thou falter? It is the voice of thy country
calling thee. Wilt thou not heed that call? O Wendot, thou knowest that
when our parents lived -- when they bid us not look upon the foe with
too great bitterness -- it was only because a divided Wales could not
stand, and that submission to England was better than the rending of the
kingdom by internal strife. But if she would have stood united against
the foreign foe, thinkest thou they would ever have held back? Nay; Res
Vychan, our father, would have been foremost in the strife. Are we not
near in blood to Llewelyn of Wales, prince of the north? Doth not the
tie of blood as well as the call of loyalty urge us to his side? Why
dost thou ponder still? Why dost thou hesitate? Throw to the wind all
idle scruples, and come. Think what a glorious future may lie before our
country if we will but stand together now!"
Wendot's cheek flushed, his eye kindled. He did indeed believe that were
his father living he would be one of the first to hasten to his
kinsman's side. If indeed the united country could be strong enough to
throw off the yoke, what a victory it would be! Was not every son of
Wales bound to his country's cause at such a time?
There was but one thing that made him hesitate. Was his word of honour
in any wise pledged to Edward? He had paid him homage for his lands: did
that act bind him to obedience at all costs?
But such refinements of honour were in advance of the thought of the
time, incomprehensible to the wilder spirits by whom he was surrounded.
Llewelyn answered the brief objection by a flood of rude eloquence, and
Howel struck in with another argument not without its weight.
"Wendot, whatever course thou takest thou art damned in Edward's eyes.
Thou hast held thyself surety for us, and nought but death will hold us
back from the cry of our country in her need. Envious eyes are cast
already by the rapacious English upon these fair lands of thine, which
these years of peace have given thee opportunity to enrich and beautify.
Let the king once hear that we have rebelled, and his nobles will claim
thy lands, thy life, thy liberty, and thou must either yield all in
ignominious flight or take up arms to defend thyself and thine own. I
trow that no son of Res Vychan will stand calmly by to see himself thus
despoiled; and if thou must fight, fight now, forestall the foe, and
come out sword in hand at thy country's call, and let us fight shoulder
to shoulder and hand to hand, as our forefathers have done before us.
Thou knowest somewhat of English rule, now that thou hast lived beneath
it these past years. Say, wilt thou still keep thy neck beneath the
yoke, or wilt thou do battle like a warrior for liberty and
independence? By our act thou art lost -- yet not even that thought can
hold us back -- then why not stand or fall as a soldier, sword in hand,
than be trapped like a rat in a hole in inglorious inaction? For
methinks whatever else betided thou wouldst not raise thy hand against
thy countrymen, even if thy feudal lord should demand it of thee."
"Never!" cried Wendot fiercely, and his quick mind revolved the
situation thus thrust upon him whilst Howel was yet speaking.
He saw at once that a course of neutrality would be impossible to him.
Fight he must, either as Edward's vassal or his foe. The first was
impossible; the second was fraught with a keen joy and secret sense of
exultation. It was true what Howel said: he would be held responsible
for his brothers' revolt. The English harpies would make every endeavour
to poison the king's mind, so that they might wrest from him his
inheritance. He would be required to take up arms against his brothers,
and his refusal to do so would be his death warrant. Disgrace and ruin
lay before him should he abide by such a course. The other promised at
least glory and renown, and perhaps a soldier's death, or, better still,
the independence of his country -- the final throwing off of the
tyrant's yoke.
His heart swelled within him; his eyes shone with a strange fire. Only
one thought checked the immediate utterance of his decision, and that
was the vision of a pair of dark soft eyes, and a child's face in which
something of dawning womanhood was visible, smiling upon him in complete
and loving trust.
Yes, Wendot had not forgotten Gertrude; but time had done its work, and
the image of the fair face was somewhat dim and hazy. He yet wore about
his neck the half of the gold coin she had given him; but if he
sometimes sighed as he looked upon it, it was a sigh without much real
bitterness or regret. He had a tender spot in his memory for the little
maid he had saved at the risk of his own life, but it amounted to little
more than a pleasant memory. He had no doubt that she had long ago been
wedded to some English noble, whose estates outshone those of Dynevor in
her father's eyes.
During the first years after his return home he had wondered somewhat
whether the earl and his daughter would find their way again to the rich
valley of the Towy; but the years passed by and they came not, and the
brief dream of Wendot's dawning youth soon ceased to have any real hold
upon him. If her father had had any thoughts of mating her with the Lord
of Dynevor, he would have taken steps for bringing the young people
together.
The last doubt fled as Wendot thought this over; and whilst his brothers
yet spoke, pointing to the rich stretch of country that lay before their
eyes in all the glory of its autumn dress, and asking if that were not
an inheritance worthy to be fought for, Wendot suddenly held out his
hand, and said in clear, ringing tones:
"Brothers, I go with you. I too will give my life and my all for the
liberty of our land. The Lord of Dynevor shall not be slack to respond
to his country's call. Methinks indeed the hour has come. I will follow
our kinsman whithersoever he shall bid."
Llewelyn and Howel grasped the outstretched hand, and from within the
castle walls there burst forth the strains of wild melody from the harp
of old Wenwynwyn. It seemed almost as though he must have heard the
words that bound Wendot to the national cause, so exultant and
triumphant were the strains which awoke beneath his hands.
It was but a few days later that the four brothers rode forth from
beneath the arched gateway of Dynevor, all armed to the teeth, and with
a goodly following of armed attendants. Wendot and Griffeth paused at a
short distance from the castle to look back, whilst a rush of strange
and unwonted emotion brought the tears to Griffeth's eyes which he
trusted none saw beside.
There stood the grand old castle, his home from childhood -- the place
around which all the associations of a lifetime gathered. It was to him
the ideal of all that was beautiful and strong and even holy -- the
massive walls of the fortress rising grandly from the rocky platform,
with the dark background of trees now burning with the rich hues of
autumn. The fair valley stretched before their eyes, every winding of
which was familiar to them, as was also every individual tree or crag or
stretch of moorland fell as far as eye could see. The very heart strings
of Wendot and Griffeth seemed bound round these homelike and familiar
things; and there was something strangely wistful in the glances thrown
around him by the young Lord of Dynevor as he reined in his horse, and
motioning to the armed followers to pass him, stood with Griffeth for a
few brief moments alone and silent, whilst the cavalcade was lost to
sight in the windings of the road.
"Is it a last farewell?" murmured the younger of the brothers beneath
his breath. "Shall I ever see this fair scene again?"
And Wendot answered not, for he had no words in which to do so. He had
been fully occupied all these last days -- too much occupied to have had
time for regretful thought; but Griffeth had been visiting every haunt
of his boyhood with strange feelings of impending trouble, and his cheek
was pale with the stress of his emotion, and his voice was husky with
the intensity of the strain he was putting upon himself.
"Griffeth, Griffeth!" cried Wendot suddenly, "have I done wrong in this
thing? I asked not thy gentle counsel, yet thou didst not bid me hold
back. But tell me, have I been wrong? Could I have done other than I have?"
"I think not that thou couldst. This seems like a call from our country,
to which no son of hers may be deaf. And it is true that our brothers
have undone thee, and that even wert thou not willing to take up arms
against them and thy countrymen, the rupture with Edward is inevitable.
No, I am with thee in what thou hast done. The Lord of Dynevor must show
himself strong in defence of his country's rights.
"Yet my heart is heavy as I look around me. For we are going forth to
danger and death, and who knows what may betide ere we see these fair
lands again, or whether we may ever return to see them more?"
Wendot would fain have replied with cheerful assurance, but a strange
rush of emotion came over him as he gazed at his childhood's home,
together with a sudden strong presentiment that there was something
prophetic in his brother's words. He gazed upon the gray battlements and
the brawling river with a passionate ardour in his glance, and then
turning quickly upon Griffeth, he said:
"Brother, why shouldst thou leave it? thou art more fit for the safe
shelter of home than for the strife of a winter war. Why shouldst thou
come forth with us? Let us leave thee here in safety --"
"Wendot!"
It was but one word, but the volume of reproach compressed into it
brought Wendot to a sudden stop. They looked into each other's eyes a
moment, and then Griffeth said, with his sweet, meaning smile:
"We have never been separated yet, my Wendot; in sorrow and joy we have
ever been together. It is too late to change all that now. I will be by
thy side to the end. Be it for life or for death we will ride forth
together."
And so with one hard hand clasp that spoke volumes, and with one more
long, lingering look at the familiar towers of the old home, Wendot and
Griffeth, the Lords of Dynevor, rode forth to meet their fate at the
hands of the mighty English king.
Of that sudden, fierce, and partially successful revolt the history
books of the age give account. Llewelyn and his brother David, joined by
the whole strength of the North, and by much able assistance from the
South, drove back the English across the border; and when Edward,
hurrying to the spot, marched against them, his army was utterly routed
near the Menai Straits, and the triumphant Welsh believed for a few
brief months that they were victors indeed, and that the power of the
foe was hopelessly broken.
Llewelyn with his army retired to the fastnesses of Snowdon, where the
English durst not pursue them, and these less hardy soldiers suffered so
terribly in the winter cold that the mortality in their ranks caused the
triumphant mountaineers to prophesy that their work would be done for
them without any more exertion on their part.
But the lion-hearted King of England was not of the stuff that easily
submits to defeat. He knew well that Wales was in his power, and that he
had but to exercise patience and resolution, and the final victory would
be his.
Permitting no relaxation of his efforts in the North, even when the
winter's bitter cold was causing untold sufferings amongst his soldiers,
he commenced a muster of troops in the South, from which country most of
the disaffected nobles had drawn away to join the insurgents under the
Prince of Wales, as Llewelyn was called. It was a shock of no small
magnitude to that prince to hear that his foe was thus employing
himself; and leaving the fastnesses of Snowdon with a picked band of his
hardiest men, amongst whom he numbered Llewelyn and Howel, he marched
southward himself, hoping to overthrow this new force before it had
gathered power sufficient to be dangerous.
Wendot would gladly have been of the number, for inaction, and the rude
barbarism he saw around him, were inexpressibly galling to him; and the
more he saw of the savage spirits by whom he was surrounded the less he
was able to hope for any permanent advantage as the result of this
rising. The jealousies of the respective chiefs were hardly held in
check even in the face of a common peril. It was impossible not to
foresee that the termination of a war with England would only be the
signal for an outbreak of innumerable petty animosities and hostile feuds.
So Wendot would have been thankful to escape from this irksome
inactivity, and to join the band going south; but the condition of
Griffeth withheld him, for the youth was very ill, and he often felt
that this winter of hardship up in the mountain air was killing him by
inches, although he never complained.
It was out of the question for Griffeth to march or to fight. He lay
most of the day beside a little fire of peat, in a cabin that Wendot and
his men had constructed with their own hands, beneath the shelter of a
rock which broke the force of the north wind, and formed some protection
against the deep snow. Griffeth had borne his share gallantly in the
earlier part of the campaign, but a slight wound had laid him aside; and
since the intense cold had come, he had only grown more white and wasted
and feeble day by day. Now that the sun was gaining a little more power,
and that the melting of the snow bespoke that spring was at hand, Wendot
began to hope the worst was over; but to leave his brother in such a
state was out of the question, and he saw Llewelyn and Howel depart
without attempting to join them.
Days and weeks had passed, and no news had been received by those up in
the mountains of the result of Llewelyn's expedition. It was reported by
scouts that Edward was at Carnarvon Castle in person, making hostile
demonstrations of a determined kind, which, in the absence of their
chief, the wild Welsh kerns knew not how to repel. They were safe where
they were, and awaited the return of their leader; but a terrible stroke
had yet to fall upon them, which proved the final blow to all their
hopes and ambitions.
It was a wild, windy night. Wendot had piled the fire high, and was
sitting with Griffeth talking of past days, and gazing with an
unconscious wistfulness into the glowing embers, which seemed to him to
take the semblance of those familiar towers and rocks which he sometimes
felt as though he should never see again. Griffeth paused in the midst
of something he was saying, and looked round with a start. It seemed to
both brothers as though a hand was fumbling at the latch. Wendot rose
and opened the door, and a tall, gaunt figure staggered rather than
walked into the room, and sank down as if perfectly exhausted beside the
glowing fire.
Griffeth uttered a startled exclamation.
"Llewelyn!" he cried sharply; and Wendot, barring the door, and coming
forward like one in a dream, asked with the calmness of one who reads
dire disaster:
"Where is Howel?"
"Dead," came the answer in a hollow voice, as though the speaker was
exhausted past words -- "dead by the side of Llewelyn our prince. Would
that I too lay beside them!"
Wendot, too stunned to say another word at that moment, busied himself
in getting his brother food and wine, of which he plainly stood sorely
in need. He ate ravenously and in perfect silence; and his brothers
watched him without having the heart to put another question. Indeed
they knew the worst: their prince dead; the flower of their army slain
-- their own brother among the number -- the rest dispersed; the
remaining forces without a leader, without a rallying point, without a
hope. What need of farther words?
Presently Llewelyn spoke again, this time with more strength, but still
with the sullenness of despair:
"It was a mere skirmish on the banks of the Wye. We were in advance of
the main body, and a party of English fell upon us. We did our best to
sell our lives dearly. I thought I had sold mine when my time came, but
I awoke and found myself beside the stream. Howel was lying upon me,
stark and dead, and our prince a few yards away, with his own men round
him. I do not think the foe knew whom they had slain, or they would have
taken at least his head away as a trophy. I know not who took the news
to our comrades, but they learned it, and dispersed to the four winds. I
was forced to remain for some days in a shepherd's hut till my wounds
were somewhat healed, and since then I have been struggling back here,
not knowing what had befallen our camp in these mountains. Am I the
first to bear the, news, or has it been known before?"
"You are the first," answered Wendot in a strange, blank voice. "We have
heard nothing; we have been living in hopes of some triumph, some
victory. We will let our fellows rest in peace one night longer.
Tomorrow we must tell all, and decide what our action must be."
"There is nothing more to hope for," said Llewelyn darkly. "Our hope is
dead, our last prince lies in a nameless grave. There is but one choice
open to us now. Let those who will submit themselves to the proud
usurper, and let us, who cannot so demean the name we bear, go forth
sword in hand, and die fighting to the last for the country we may not
live to deliver."
It seemed, indeed, as if Llewelyn's words were to prove themselves true;
for no sooner did the news of the disaster on the banks of the Wye
become known than the army began to melt away, like the snow in the
increasing power of the sun. The chiefs, without a head, without a cause
or a champion, either retired to their own wild solitudes or hastened to
make their peace with their offended king; and only those who put honour
before safety or life itself stood forth sword in hand to die, if it
might be, with face to foe in defence of a cause which they knew was
hopelessly lost.
And amongst this gallant but reckless little band were the three
brothers of Dynevor, who, having once taken up the sword against Edward,
were determined not to lay it down until the hand of death was cold upon
each heart.