PREPARING FOR THE EVIL DAY
As Nest was the most beautiful woman in Wales, so her brother Griffith
was the handsomest of the men there. His face was open and engaging. The
blue eyes were honest, the jaw resolute. His address had a fascination
few could resist. Moreover, the story of his young life was such as
enlisted sympathy and fired the hearts of the Cymri.
His gallant father, a true hero, the King of Dyfed, South Wales, had
fallen in battle, fighting against the Normans under Robert Fitzhamon
and some turbulent Welsh who had invited the invader into the land. The
fall of the great chief had left his country open, defenseless to the
spoiler. His eldest son and his daughter had been carried away as
hostages, the Prince to die in his captivity--whether wasting with grief
or by the hand of the assassin none knew--and the Princess, dishonored,
had been married to the worst oppressor of her people.
Griffith, the second son, had effected his escape, and had committed
himself to his namesake the King of Gwynedd, or North Wales, and had
married his daughter.
The crafty Beauclerk was ill-pleased so long as the Prince remained at
large to head insurrection in the South, perhaps, in combination with
his father-in-law, to unite all Cambria in one mighty effort to hurl the
invader from the rocks of that mountain world. He accordingly entered
into negotiations with the King and invited him to visit him in London.
Griffith ap Cynan, the old King of North Wales, flattered by the terms
in which he was addressed, pleased with the prospect of seeing more of
the world than was possible from his castle-walls in Anglesea,
incautiously accepted.
Arrived at Westminster, he was treated with effusive courtesy: King
Henry addressed him as a brother, seated him at his side, lavished on
him splendid gifts, and still more splendid promises. Not till he had
made the Welshman drunk with vanity and ambition did Henry unfold his
purpose. Griffith ap Cynan was offered the sovereignty over North and
South Wales united with Cardigan, the Prince of which had fled to
Ireland, to be held under the suzerainty of the English Crown, and the
sole price asked for this was the surrender of the young Prince, his own
son-in-law and guest, a man whose only guilt consisted in having the
blood of Rhys in his veins, and who confided in the honor and loyalty of
his wife's father.
The King of Gwynedd consented, and hasted home to conclude his part of
the contract.
Happily, but not a moment too soon, did Griffith the younger get wind of
the treachery that was intended, and he fled before the arrival of the
old King.
When the latter discovered that his son-in-law had escaped, he sent a
body of horsemen in pursuit. The fugitive, nearly overtaken, took
sanctuary in the church of Aberdaron, and the baffled pursuers, not
venturing to infringe the rights of the Church, returned unsuccessful to
their master. The King, angry, blind to every consideration save his
ambition, bade his men return on their traces, and, if need be, force
the sanctuary and tear the Prince from the foot of the altar, should he
make that his last refuge.
The executioners of the mandate were not, however, free from the
superstitious awe which surrounded a sanctuary. The clergy of the church
and of the neighborhood rose with one consent in protection of the
pursued, and of the menaced rights, and again the Ministers of the King
were baffled. By this means, time was gained, and the clergy of
Aberdaron succeeded by night in securing the escape of the Prince, with
a few faithful followers, into the Vale of the Towy.
There he had no alternative open to him but to prepare to take up arms.
He at once entered into communication with his sister, on whose fidelity
to the cause of the royal family of Dyfed, and of her country, he knew
he could calculate. He found the people impatient to fly to arms. Their
condition had become intolerable. Wherever they went the barons had
introduced the system of feudal tenure, which was foreign to the laws
and feelings of the people, and they vigorously resisted its
application. Moreover, foreign ecclesiastics, the kinsmen or clients of
the secular tyrant, seized upon the livings. Where a fortress could not
be established, there a monastery was planted and filled with
foreigners, to maintain whom the tithes and glebes were confiscated,
and the benefices converted into vicarages, which were served by English
or continental monks.
Added to this, the King had created the Bishop of London Lord of the
Marches and President of Shropshire, and this astute and unprincipled
man devoted his energies to the setting at rivalry of all the native
princes, and the goading them to war with one another. Such was his
policy--let the Welsh cut each other's throats and make way for the
Norman and the Fleming.
The wretched people, betrayed by their natural leaders, the princes,
deprived of their clergy, subjected to strange laws, with foreign
masters, military and ecclesiastic, intruding themselves everywhere, and
dispossessing them of all their possessions, felt that it would be
better to die among their burnt farmsteads than live on dishonored.
At this juncture, when they looked for, prayed for a leader, Griffith,
son of their King, suddenly appeared in their midst, with a fresh story
of insult and treachery to tell--and make their blood flame.
"I am come," said the Prince, still standing in the falling ray of sun.
"I have hasted to come to you with a word from my sister, the Princess
Nest. Evil is devised against you--evil you are powerless now to resist.
It comes swift, and you must bow your heads as bulrushes. The enemy is
at hand--will be here on the morrow; and what the Princess says to Pabo,
your chief, is, Fly for your life!"
"That is what has been determined among us," said Howel.
"It is well--let not a moment be lost!" Then, looking around, "I--my
friends, my brothers, am as a squirrel in the forest, flying from branch
to branch, pursued even by the hand that should have sheltered me. There
is no trust to be laid in princes. I lean on none; I commend my cause to
none. I place it in the hearts of the people. I would lay my head to
sleep on the knee of any shepherd, fearless. I could not close my eyes
under the roof of any prince, and be sure he would not sell me whilst I
slept."
None answered. It was true--they knew it--too true.
"My brother," said Griffith--and he stepped to each and touched each
hand--"I commit myself and the cause of my country to these hands that
have held the plow and wielded the hammer, and I fear not. They are
true."
A shout of assurances, thrilled from every heart, and the eyes filled
with tears.
"My brothers, the moment has not yet arrived. When it comes, I will call
and ye will answer."
"We will!"
"My life--it is for you."
"And our lives are at your disposal."
"We knew each other," said the prince, and one of his engaging smiles
lighted his face. "But now to the matter in hand. The Bishop Bernard
claims the entire region of Caio, from the mountains to where the Cothi
enters the ravine, as his own, because it is the patrimony of David,
which he has usurped. And forthwith he sends a mandate for the
deposition of your Archpriest Pabo, and his arrest and conveyance under
a guard to his castle of Llawhaden."
"He shall not have him."
"Therefore must he escape at once."
"He shall fly to a place of security."
"And that without a moment's delay."
"It shall be so."
"Furthermore, the bishop sends his chaplain, Cadell, to fill his room,
to minister to you in holy things."
"He shall not so minister to us."
"And to occupy the presbytery."
"My house!" exclaimed Pabo.
"He shall not set foot therein," said Howel; "leave that to me."
"I go," said Pabo sadly; "but I shall take my wife with me."
"Nay," answered Howel hastily, "that must not be."
"But wherefore not? She must be placed where safe from pursuit as well
as I."
"She shall be under my protection," said Howel the Tall. "Have
confidence in me. All Caio will rise again were she to be molested. Have
no fear; she shall be safe. But with you she must not go. Ask me not my
reasons now. You shall learn them later."
"Then I go. But I will bid her farewell first."
"Not that even," said Howel, "lest she learn whither you betake
yourself. That none of us must know."
Then Meredith the Bard rose.
"There is need for haste," he said. "I go."
"And I go, too," said Pabo. He looked at the elders with swelling breast
and filling eye. "I entrust to you, dear friends and spiritual sons, one
more precious to me than life itself." He turned to Griffith: "Prince,
God grant it be not for long that you are condemned to fly as the
squirrel. God grant that ere long we may hear the cry of the ravens of
Dynevor; and when we hear that----"
All present raised their hands--
"We will find the ravens their food."