Gwrtheyrn the Drunkard
"_Vortigern of repulsive lips, who, drunken, gave up the Isle of Thanetto Hengist._"
--WELSH TRIADS.
Mogneid son of Votecori tapped upon the lintel of the open doorway andcalled "Ho, there! Is there refreshment for wayfarers?" From withincame a luxurious sound of snoring. Mogneid muttered a curse, and beganto hammer impatiently with the butt of his riding-whip. The father ofthe household coughed, rolled heavily from his bed of rushes, andappeared at the door--an old man, blinking with sleep, but collectedand courteous.
"What, lord?" said he. "There is tired you are now! How may I serveyou? Please you share the shelter of my roof till evening!"
"Nay, not so," Mogneid replied, "I am in haste to reach my journey'send. Give us to drink, sir, I pray you--beer, milk, or water--what youwill--anything! We are dried up with this dust! And tell me, if youcan, how far hence dwells Gwrtheyrn the King?"
Without waiting to answer, the old man hobbled away, and returned a fewminutes later with a big stone pitcher and two little cups of horn.
"Alack, my friend," he grumbled, "they have taken all the beer. Theyare all gone to mow the hay, look you, my son and the women! and I amleft to milk the cows and tend the livestock. Sore thing it is that oldage comes so soon! Well, lord, if ye will not stay to cleanse your feetand enter my dwelling, let us at least converse in the shade. Here isnew milk, that quenches thirst." He led Mogneid and his fourserving-men beneath the boughs of a great hawthorn-tree, the onlyornament of his straw-littered, pig-frequented entrance-yard.
"Seek ye King Gwrtheyrn?"
He dropped thankfully on to a low seat surrounding the tree trunk, andMogneid sat down beside him, quaffed at the creamy liquor, and wipedthe dust and sweat from his countenance. The traveller was amiddle-aged man, thin and muscular, with a dark grizzled beard, andvague-looking light blue eyes that missed sight of nothing that went onaround him. Upon the backs of his hands was tattooed a mystic design ofcircles interlaced.
"I am from the land of Dyfed, reverend sir," he answered, "and I travelto the court of Gwrtheyrn son of Guitaul, lord of Ewyas, of Erging, andof Caer Glouwy. My folk were somewhat akin to his, many a generationago, and there is talk of a marriage between my niece and a lord ofGwent who follows King Gwrtheyrn. If I mistake not greatly, I am nownot very far from my kinsman's palace."
"Noble lord," his host rejoined, "if ye be akin to Gwrtheyrn our King,doubtless ye lament, as we do, his fall from greatness. Our Gwrtheyrn,heaven protect him! was lord of all the armies of Britain--like thecommanders of the Romans, see you now; and in truth a very great princeis he; none braver, or taller, or more just and more generous. But thepirates came by sea on every side; and those Britons of the East--theycannot fight like us men of the west; so King Gwrtheyrn sought toprocure peace, that the land might have time to rest and gather herstrength. When the chieftains of the Saxons, or Jutes, as they callthat tribe of them, came to confer with him, they feasted welltogether, and Gwrtheyrn looked with eyes of love upon the daughter ofHengist the Jute; and he wedded her, and gave to her kinsmen a parcelof land in Kent, to hold under him, that they might aid him to beat offall other robbers. But after this there was no peace at all. God'scurse on the Saxon ruffians! Would they keep within their boundaries,think you? Nay, they disquieted the Britons upon every side. Then thelords of Britain, with old Emrys at their head, grew angry, and refusedto follow Gwrtheyrn longer: even Gwrthefyr, his son by the Roman woman,declared for another Amherawdwr[1] and other ways. So what was left toGwrtheyrn, when they had taken from him the government of Britain, butto dwell here in the land of his fathers, amongst his own natural bornpeople, and rule over us?--and there is well he does rule over us--yes,yes! I and my sons were with him in his army, in the grand olddays--not so very long ago, truly. And behold me now--a life fit for acart-horse! And I a free tribesman of Gwrtheyrnion!"
[1] Imperator.
"Why, from thy saying," said Mogneid, "thou bearest great love toGwrtheyrn."
"Indeed yes!" cried the old man. "These are ill times we live in!Emrys commands in Britain now, or would command--but when all is saidand done, he is only lord of Morganwg. And he is a stark Roman, whowill have all things cut and dried about him. I tell you, I have avery little opinion of these Romans, and of them who follow in theirsteps. I have often heard my father tell of them. They came to ourland, and cut down our fair sheltering forests, and carried away ourfighting men to their own wars, so that Britain was left naked to theSaxons. As for their priests--sir, I perceive you to be from the west,where, I hear, priests are few.... Well, well! father Pewlin says,when the ague torments me, 'Pray that thou mayest be given strength tobear the trial.' Not such for me! I have fastened a scrap of myclothing above the old healing--well out yonder."
"The old gods are indeed very wise! And Gwrtheyrn son of Guitaul? Howdoes he pass his time?"
"Alack that I must tell it! Is the caged beast as princely and asmighty as he that roams abroad where he will?... Sometimes he hunteththe stag or the boar--and there is metheglin, or wine, perchance--andgood beer. What else is left to our lord Gwrtheyrn? he who was a heroin good King Arthur's time! That fat-faced Queen--I trow she is nostay to him! 'The sweet Verge of Drunkenness!' That was a song myfather used to sing."
"Most honoured sir," Mogneid broke in, "I thank you very heartily foryour kind entertainment. But I must press on upon my road. I shallpraise your hospitality to my noble cousin, believe you me. Tell me, Ipray you, how soon I may be with him?"
"Fifteen miles and more is Caer Gwrtheyrn from here. Cross youClywedog and Ithon both. From the ford of Ithon there is a bridle-trackthe whole way. May the Saints and Mary keep you! and all the powersthat be! May you suffer no violence, and may no goblin or hound ofhell affright you!"
"May all the powers bless you, my father! May the She-Greyhound of theHeavens,[2] who maketh fat both land and cattle, favour you! Fare yewell!"
[2] Ceridwen.
Mogneid and his little train set forth once more. They reached theglen of Trawscoed in the cool of the evening when the sky was aglowwith amber lights and calm turquoise depths.
Caer Gwrtheyrn, the residence of the King of this country, which tookthe name of Gwrtheyrion from its then lord, rose a mile or so beforethem, upon the heights of Mynydd Denarch. As the Demetian cast his eyeover the surrounding country, in the east, upon the track thatdescended from the hills of Gref-o-dig and Bron-y-Garn-llwyd, hecaught sight of what looked to him like the glint of the sun on steelhelmet and corslet.
Mogneid lost no time. He quickened his pace, and reached the gatewayof Caer Gwrtheyrn in about fifteen minutes. Soon the customary ritualwas fulfilled: his feet were bathed by the porter, to signify hisacceptance of hospitality for the night, and the King's door-keeperushered him into the castle hall.
It was dark already there. The torches smoked foully. There was amanifold smell of beer, roast meat, barley-broth, rosemary andwoodruff, dogs and humanity. Mogneid felt that he could never find hisway except perhaps by the sense of touch. Presently a loud, harshvoice rang out:
"Who is it? Who? What say you? Thou didst not inquire? What have Itold thee? I will have the name and ancestry of every considerablevisitor to my house--announced to me"--the voice spoke thickly--"ashas always been my wont! Curse thee for a numskull! Whom have wehere?"
Mogneid, who had reached the head of the board, looked up, and saw,scowling down upon him, a gigantic, loosely-built personage, ofdignified bearing for all his violence--the wreck of a fine man, witha flushed face and swollen, bloodshot eyes--Gwrtheyrn, King ofGwrtheyrnion, Erging and Ewyas, whom the Britons had deposed from thesovereignty of them all for all his ill-judged policy and for whatthey deemed extravagant, un-British notions--Gwrtheyrn the Goidel, ofthe foreign "repulsive" lips.[3]
[3] Supposedly so called from his Goidelic accent in speaking British.
"Gracious lord," said Mogneid, "it is your humble kinsman, Mogneid,son of Votecori, son of Mae
lumi, from the land of Dyfed, praying thathe may sojourn awhile under the King's protection. There is a familymatter in question, O Gwrtheyrn, in which I seek the aid of thechieftain of my tribe."
"Son of Votecori!" cried Gwrtheyrn, with outstretched hand. "Myfather's cousin's son! Now welcome, kinsman. Ho! bring meat and winefor the Lord Mogneid! Thou must eat ere we further confer."
Seated by the side of his host, the new-comer feasted upon broiledmutton-chops, which were carried in from without, for during thesummer weather Gwrtheyrn's food was cooked in a kitchen in anouthouse. The King's hall was crowded, but the company presented fewelements of interest to the man of Dyfed. The Jutish Queen sat uponGwrtheyrn's other hand, counting the stitches in her needlework; shehad a broad face, a square full chin, and heavy auburn plaits. Therewere a few old women, her attendants; the huntsmen, servants, andmen-at-arms; some rustic noblemen, talkative and disputatious; andsome half-dozen of the King's pages or foster-sons, who squabbled inwhispers over noughts and crosses chalked upon the empty hearth-stone.
"Lord," said Mogneid, "there come others to claim hospitality of theeere nightfall, I do think. As I looked back upon the eastern valley, Ibeheld a party of horsemen, clad in steel armour, such as the Romanswear."
"Art clever, kinsman," Gwrtheyrn replied. "It is Emrys, to acertainty! or emissaries of his! Well that we are warned. They shallbe warmly received, I promise!"
"Whence comes Ambrosius?" Mogneid asked. "As I travelled hither, Iheard of him at Caerdydd."
"Look you, cousin," said Gwrtheyrn, "Ambrosius and I have somecontention toward, concerning my lordship of Buallt, of which thisoverweening person claims the right to dispose, forsooth!--One cupmore, kinsman Mogneid; it is of the Kentish vintage. Now when theseRomanizers----"
"They are here," said Mogneid.
In truth, the clatter of horses' hooves resounded outside thebuilding, and the voices of men. Twenty mail-clad soldiers entered thehall, with a keen-faced leader at their head.
"Greeting, King Gwrtheyrn," the officer cried, "from Ambrosius theImperator!"
"Greeting!" returned Gwrtheyrn shortly. "What would the Lord Emrys sayto us by your lips?"
"Thus says Aurelius Ambrosius to you, O Gwrtheyrn King of Erging: Therenowned and mighty lord Ambrosius himself is now at Buallt, whitherhe is come to bestow the lordship of those lands--which are his asmuch as thine by hereditary right, be it said--upon the valiant princePascent thy son, for fitting appanage and livelihood. And he chargesthee, O Gwrtheyrn, to attend him straightway, upon the morrow, towitness the installation of thy said son in all due form and order."
"Fore God!" Gwrtheyrn roared, "this is passing insolence! Hence to thymaster, sir, and tell him that Gwrtheyrn permits not that anotherforce from him what is his own! Or if it be too late now to make thereturn journey, why, there are my villeins' cow-houses at your servicefor the night. Ye shall have a guard set over you while ye aresleeping. Out of our presence, instantly, by blessed Paul!"
"So be it," said the soldier. "We will back to the lord of Britain."
While they were departing, the Queen and her women rose and withdrew.The foster-children went out into the twilit courtyard to play; theservants, after removing the dishes and the victuals, one by one leftthe room. Mogneid drew his seat closer to that of Gwrtheyrn.
"Ticklish fellows, these mongrel Romans," he observed.
The King was drinking deeply; the veins of his forehead still throbbedwith rage and shame. By and by he put down his cup, and began to talk,with much gesticulation.
"Romans! Romans! Romans! Curse them all, high and low, up and down!...Ambrosius their tyrant, to the lousiest beggar's brat--and----Whatgood are they to the clans of Britain?--with their fine habits andtheir sickly vices? What good to me was my wife Severa, Maxen'sdaughter? Ye see what sons she brought me--Gwrthefyr, and Cyndeyrn,and Pascent--cleave to Ambrosius, and forsake their own father! Here,in the west, are men mightier and taller and braver than all theirenfeebled town-dwellers. Good fighting Goidels...."
"All men do know as much," said the other. "For my part, I would thatmy kinsmen were the chief men of the land."
"God!" panted Gwrtheyrn. "What is gone is gone--for ever." He lookedupon his companion with a watery eye. "Thou art verily welcome, goodMogneid. A man is always glad to gossip with one of his own blood,especially after long time of dreariness. Few guests knock at mycastle-gate--we are out of the run of life nowadays, alas! alas!"
The monotony and the squalor were all too evident.
"It were surely unjust," said Mogneid, in soothing tones, "that Bualltshould be taken from thee."
"And shall I suffer it? I have my favourite hunting-lodge in thatlordship. They are my lands--my lands! It pleases me to dwell there!"Gwrtheyrn shouted with maudlin vehemence.
"What is your purpose, O King?"
"Well, that--I know not. But he shall not have my lands! Look you,kinsman, it is near the harvest-time: I think my men will not comewillingly to arms."
"Then speak Ambrosius fair, biding thy time. Go not to Buallt, if thoulike not the indignity; and when the harvest is over, levy thy forcesand win back thine own. Is there difficulty in this?"
"All the priests are ever on the old fox's side. A man cannot wellstruggle if he have holy Church against him. These are evil daysindeed. They meddle in everything, these rascally adze-heads.[4] Nowin the days of old, we could worship whom we would, aye, and how wewould. Prosperous days!... There were the sacred fires at the springand at the fall--those were things of power; they made the earth yieldbravely and plenteously. I remember I have run through the bonfires,myself, many a time, when I was a child. And the magic of the wiseones--I swear each spell was worth ten blessings of a priest!"
[4] Celtic priests, from their form of tonsure.
"The King speaks soothly. In Dyfed there are many who do think as we,and who will scarcely permit the new-fangled faith to show its head.It is not too late, O King, to throw off the yoke of the Romanizers.Ye are all the world yet to your own people; they hate to see you idleand dispossessed. There are many men of my country eager to rise atyour bidding: I know their minds."
"Cousin, this is a cheerful saying! Thy coming has filled me withhope."
"Know then that the ancient wisdom is mine, perfectly: from mychildhood was I trained up in it by the last survivors of thevenerable sacred order. Listen, then, my lord, that should be King ofall the kings of Britain, to the words of the high gods that they havespoken unto Mogneid! Thus and thus, O Gwrtheyrn, foretold the entrailsof the slave-boy accepted of Ceridwen...."
* * * * *
"Lord King," said Eliseg the chief huntsman, "it is not meet, nor isit wise, to talk of intimate matters with the scavenger of theby-ways. In other words, master, there is an old crafty bird, calledcuckoo, who stealeth the nests of others that his own offspring maygrow and flourish. Few have seen the cuckoo, but there are some thathave had sight of him. The cuckoo is perfectly familiar to me."
"Aye, so," said Dyfnwal the King's chamberlain.
"By Hu the Mighty! speak plainly, Eliseg, or else hold thy tongue,thou naughty rogue!" cried Gwrtheyrn; but he smiled upon his trustyservant.
"Lord, I think ye cannot know what ye are about. The cuckoo of mysimile, look you, he is the new-come guest, the lord from Dyfed, fromwhom the King has no secrets. This is not the first time this man hascrossed my way. In Dyfed I was born, and there my wife's parents dostill dwell. O King, this is Mogneid the Druid, of very evil fame!"
"The devil take thee for a lying slanderer! Mogneid is near of kin tome, within the nine degrees. He is a worthy prince, and fit to companyme in all my undertakings. Well, and if he be learned in the ancientwise things--what can we show to-day to compare with the might of ourforefathers?"
"By my dogs and my horns and my leashes! King Gwrtheyrn," said Eliseg,"we seek not to meddle impertinently, Dyfnwal and I, look you. But Ihave served you four and thirty years, and Dyfnwal thirty, day in andday out, i
n storm and shine, and we would not, for the love we bearyou, that ye should now ride for a fall."
"We speak as your friends," Dyfnwal grunted.
"It is a dangerous reptile ye have sheltered," continued the other."Dreaded is he throughout the land of Dyfed for his unfathomabledeeds. He has all the art of the Druids; and he is the last of thebrood, God be praised! The days of darkness are over, my king: menwill no longer take succour from the wiles of devils, thanks be to theLord Christ and to Mary the dear Lady of mankind!"
"Will ye hold your peace?" stormed the King. "Get you gone, both ofyou, or I will have your tongues slit for you! What next, what next, Iask you?"
"The tantrums of him!" said Eliseg, when they two were outside thedoor. "Dyfnwal, look you, I fear that this fellow will bring perilupon the King. He was never up to good from the hour wherein he firstdrew breath. He is up and down the country, about and about, each day,questioning every gaffer and goodwife, every lad, lass, and babe thatwill waste the precious hours talking with him. Already Lord Gwrtheyrnis never from the metheglin. We must let nothing escape us, lest ourmaster be undone."
"I have eyes," said Dyfnwal. "I use them."
"Hist! I see him," exclaimed the huntsman. "Grows there gold in thevilleins' hay-meadow, think you?"
Within the hall, Gwrtheyrn raged and muttered. When his wrath began tocool, he felt the want of the congenial society of Mogneid. ThisKing's life was a lonely one. The Queen spent hours at spinning andcarding, weaving and embroidery; and although she would listen,nodding and smiling, at any time to her husband's remarks, she seldomspoke, and her thoughts seemed always far away, at rest upon thingsserene and pleasant. So it came about that he seldom sought hercompany. Why must his kinsman tarry so long from him? wonderedGwrtheyrn. He gulped down a cupful of metheglin, and then another, andsubsided into a chair, to wait.
Mogneid came up the hill, smiling to himself. He knew the lie of thecountry of Gwrtheyrnion well by now, and the disposition of itspeople. He entered the castle hall. To his surprise, early in the daythough it was, Gwrtheyrn sat propping himself nicely in his chair ofstate: a gold cup, relic of the sack of some Romano-British villa, layat his feet, and there were splashes of metheglin on the floor. TheKing's mood was benign and expansive.
"Want thee--tell me," he greeted him. "Old preaching devil! Alleluia!and they all ran away! Whatshisname?"
"Garmon, perhaps," answered Mogneid. Affecting indifference, hewatched his kinsman narrowly.
"Garmon--yes--yes--that's he. Father of the king of devils! Well,Garmon--he's here. He's sent me a message." ... Gwrtheyrn seized hiscousin's arm. "I'll tell thee a secret. Knowest thou my first wife'sniece? Knowest her? A most sweet lass! She came to me, two years ago,being widowed and very young, and having no protector. I have her now,in the little summer dwelling of Rhaiadr Gwy. None know--the Queenknows not. Well.... It has leaked out somehow.... Holy Garmon sends totell me that we are a scandal far and wide, and bids me mend my way oflife. The old fool! Calls her my daughter! Understand, she's not mydaughter. Not my daughter! Wife's niece!"
"Thou must send her away!" cried Mogneid.
"Don't want to send her away. 'Tis a pretty chuck--she pleases me....Besides"--he beamed--"we have a son."
"All this is nought!" Mogneid insisted harshly. "Will you risk all wehave schemed for, my lord, for one girl? Put her from you, I say!"
He had used too rough a tone. A look of distress crept across thestupor of the King's countenance.
"This priesthood! 'tis a cursed powerful thing," he said, with thestirrings of cunning apparent. "Old Garmon--he has the ear ofAmbrosius. And these Christians show forth miracles in plenty."
"My lord, they are not the only wonder-workers. Can it be that thewise men of old, who raised the giant stones for the temples, andforged the swords and shields that none now can fashion, were weakerthan these unlettered saints? And their lore abides in me, and in somefew instructed ones in the west country. Now, Gwrtheyrn, my king, whatcan a man's will do not, if he foster and train it by supernaturaldiscipline? And what is the first work of the will but to sink ourenemies?"
"What is the end of man, Mogneid?" said Gwrtheyrn. "Shall he be bornagain, Mogneid? Perhaps from the crop of a hen? Shall he? From thecrop of a hen!"[5]
[5] Gwrtheyrn had Taliesin's mystical account of his incarnations in mind.
"There is no end to the soul," Mogneid replied. "And every soulreturns to a body when he may find one. Come, O King, take heart. Weshall trample upon the necks of Ambrosius and Garmon."
"Kinsman, do what you can," said the King. "I rely on you."
Mogneid left him then, and sought the Queen's apartment. He despisedthe King's wife, but as a tool she might be useful.
Gwrtheyrn, sobered now, beat his brow in turmoil of another sort.
"Beast or bird"--he cried--"man or woman--or wandering, bodilessspirit! Or purgation by fire--or to roast in flames for ever! Ibelieve--I believe in hell! God--if Thou beest God ... O Christ,Christ! I am lost--I cannot repent!"
Germanus of Auxerre and his colleague Lupus came to Caer Gwrtheyrn,aflame with zeal for God and for the Church. In his palace hall theyupbraided King Gwrtheyrn, calling him the shame and scandal of allBritain. As for the royal culprit, he would not hear them patiently.Furious words were bandied between them.
"Things shall be as I will!" roared Gwrtheyrn. "Am I not lord in myown dominions? Presumptious shaveling! what thinkest thou I care forthy preachments?"
"O Gwrtheyrn, egregious sinner!" said Germanus. "Know that we havepower behind us. Ambrosius, who is near at hand with his army, willsoon be here, to punish or to break thee. Who will comfort thee withthe rites of holy Church if we proclaim thee outcast? Fortunate artthou if thou escape so easily. Lupus and I will fast upon the Lord Goduntil He grant our demands concerning thee. Ere many days, heaven willpour down fire upon thee, to shrivel up thee and thine and all thineill-famed land!"
This curse carried such terror to all standing by that even Mogneiddurst not suggest that the King should order the seizure of the holymen, and they two passed out and went their way. Said Mogneid toGwrtheyrn:
"If Ambrosius come upon us, and Garmon and his monks from Llanharmon,we are undone, and they will surely do thee to death. I can think ofonly one resource. Thy Queen--has she not Saxon kindred aboutPengwern, not forty miles away? I think she will be persuaded to sendthem messages. We will make allies of them; and should Ambrosiusbesiege this fortress, we can hold out within, until the Saxons cometo deliver us."
"Do what thou wilt," answered Gwrtheyrn. "Speak thou to my wife. Bynow she must have heard some story of my pretty dear."
The Queen was not jealous; and very readily she dispatched a runicwriting and another token to a kinsman of hers whom she knew to becommanding the Saxon outposts at Pengwern. These were entrusted tothree huntsmen of the King's, who had by heart every path and by-trackin the country. Gwrtheyrn and Mogneid made fast the defences, andprovided arms for every man of the King's subjects near at hand whocould be spared from gathering in the harvest in feverish haste.
But, on the morning of the next day, Eliseg brought dire tidings toCaer Gwrtheyrn. The monks of Cilfachau had taken all three messengers,and had carried them off to Germanus at Buallt. And the army ofAmbrosius had been seen moving upon Gwrtheyrn's palace.
"We must to Llanaelhairn, in the valley that opens into Lleyn from thebay of Arvon," said Gwrtheyrn. "There it will be hard for them tofollow us."
"My plans have failed," thought Mogneid. "I came hither too late.Cousin Gwrtheyrn cannot weather this storm."
In a very little while, their preparations were made and they set out:the King and the Druid; the Queen upon a pillion behind Eliseg;Dyfnwal and all the men of the household, a few of the women whosehomes were inaccessible, and every man of the royal hamlet who couldbe quickly armed and mounted--leaving Caer Gwrtheyrn to whatsoevermight befall.
For seven hours they rode to the north-west. After passing theconfines of Gwrtheyrn'
s own lands, they kept to the course of the Wye,which river became narrower and more rapid with every frequent bend.They travelled slowly, for they were an unwieldy party. About sunset,an ominous smoky glare appeared in the sky in the region they hadabandoned.
"They burn Caer Gwrtheyrn!" said the King; and he wept uncontrollably.
At nightfall they came to the outskirts of the waste about Plinlimmon.This was an uninhabited tract, part oak and elm thicket, partalder-shaded swamp. In the higher reaches, huge craggy hills aroselike spectral scaly monsters gathering their strength for a spring.Beyond lay the open moorland where Wye has its rising, and whereSevern is a tiny trickle, whose source is unknown to man. Owls hootedin this wooded valley, and there were strange flutterings, squeakingsand snappings, and patterings over the ground. The King's men refusedto go farther.
"The dogs of hell are abroad, lord!" cried one. "Arawn's hounds--yes,yes! Once it is dark, they roam this desert place. There is fearfulthey are now. White they are, every one, with rose-red ears, and theirjaws foam and drip. And the man who sees them--sure to be ailing fromthat very hour, and die before long, and that is a fact. Very, veryunlucky! Let us stay where we are, now!"
They wailed and besought so piteously that Gwrtheyrn had to permit ahalt in spite of the friendly moonlight, and of Mogneid's whisperedurgings. A long low cave was near at hand: into it they packed,shivering in the night-mist, for they durst not kindle a fire.
They passed a restless night; only the Queen slept soundly in the caveon the borders of the haunted forest. Then on once more over the rockytrack that led through Arwystli and Meirionedd to their goal, thepeninsula of Lleyn.
"I dreamed of Garmon," said Gwrtheyrn, as they started. "His faceglowed white, like hottest iron, kinsman Mogneid--I cannot forget it.He is fasting upon his God, to procure my destruction."
Mogneid answered nothing, but gnawed his lip.
"Llanaelhairn must we make upon the morrow," continued the King. "Itis a little old fortress of my father's building, for to guard thevalley beneath Yr Eifl from attack by sea: I myself have not set footthere for more than thirty years. The way thither is little known, andI wager Emrys will be finely entangled once or twice if he endeavourto follow us. But there are caretakers, and there should be flocks andherds for our regaling."
That night they spent in Arthog. A hospitable Goidelic lordoverwhelmed them with attentions, giving them what food he had, andthey passed the night in and about his dwelling. Across the estuary ofthe Mawddach, the forsaken druidic stones showed white and awful.
By noon next day, they had reached the borders of Lleyn. By lateafternoon, as they pursued their rough, scarcely distinguishable,interminable way, the Queen grew querulous. She could ride no longer;every muscle in her body ached; she must drink deeply from a tumblingspring that ran across their path, and bathe her face, hands, andfeet; she was hungry, and here were bilberries. Surely they were safefrom their enemies? And every one was sun-dried and speechless!
Well, she might rest a breathing-while: they might all stretch theirlimbs and eat and drink their fill.
"But come thou on with me, cousin," said Gwrtheyrn. "I cannot staystill. We will go ahead, and spy over the hills before us, and seekthe readiest way." To the commander of the men-at-arms: "Look you,tarry not long, for sunset will soon be upon us."
Said Eliseg to Dyfnwal, "They are gone together, the King and he. Ilike not the evil lowering of his face this day. We should followthem."
"At once!" said Dyfnwal. "The bay and the roan are the fleetest."
The sky had clouded over, and there was a rainy light in the westernquarter.
"Look yonder!" cried Mogneid, when they had ridden some two milesfarther.
A great army of horsemen was winding about the foot of the hills ofPennant, and at their head was something, broad and scarlet-gleaming,that flapped in the evening breeze--surely the dragon-standard ofAmbrosius.
"Then the end is come," said Mogneid.
"On to Llanaelhairn!" Gwrtheyrn exclaimed. "Once there, we can get thecattle within, and hold the ford, belike, with my people that dwellthere. Hasten, kinsman, hasten! The others have sure guides; theycannot miss the way."
When they reached the ford of the little brook, now called by KingGwrtheyrn's name, that flowed beneath the walls of the fortress ofLlanaelhairn, the moon was shining, and the clouds were fewer. Theycrossed the castle forecourt. Not a soul was about, for the land-maerand his family had gone to the upper pastures to bring in the sheepand cattle. As they opened the hall door, the stifling atmosphere beatheavily against their faces. A fierce fire was burning, upon which thewomen of the household had lately roasted whole the carcasses ofseveral sheep. After glancing around, Mogneid sped up the stairwayleading into the look-out tower, and Gwrtheyrn followed him into thesmall, low chamber at the top. He found Mogneid before itshalf-ruinous window, tugging at the rusty iron grating that screenedthe aperture.
Presently the mortar that had held it crumbled, the whole frame-workcame away in Mogneid's hands, and he cast it violently upon the floor.Then he returned to the window. Above him the heights of the Rivalstowered; away to the west, the sea-waves lapped sullenly; below, NantGwrtheyrn ran very low in its stony bed.
"What hope is there now?" cried Gwrtheyrn the King. "What hast thoudone for me, Mogneid my kinsman, who promised so much? Garmon is agreater curser than thou--his magic mightier. The ancient gods havelied to thee, Mogneid--they delude thee--thou art not their favouredone! Wilt thou give me back my kingdoms, thou who hast all things ofpower at thy fingers' ends!" He rushed upon the other with a snarllike a wild beast's.
Mogneid son of Votecori turned upon him a look that scorched, andGwrtheyrn cowered back against the wall, shaking from head to foot.
"Thou scum of dross! Thou refuse thing! Thou drunkard and son ofdrunkards! Aye, a high destiny hadst thou once--until thou gavest overthy will to sloth and rottenness! Talk ye of hope, my lord? WasAmbrosius ever known to spare? Well, there is one way--by thisopening, see you?--it is fully wide enough: a man may lower himself;it is a swift ending. Concerning what will follow, these Christianslie. Perchance thou wilt become a silvery salmon, very wise, in Wye orDyfi; or a wallowing hog; or Emperor of the West, perchance, or Popeof Rome. Jump, Gwrtheyrn, King of Gwrtheyrnion, Buallt, Erging, Ewyas,and Caer Glouwy, sometime Pendragon of all Britain, and flee shame!"
"Shame--only that ... I must flee shame!" muttered Gwrtheyrn, climbinginto the window as though compelled by the fascination of Mogneid'seye. "I must--I will ... I cannot...."
He faltered on the edge, but the Druid, standing behind, pushed him,and his long body fell hurtling through the air.
After peering for a moment at a certain motionless dark patch upon thestones below, Mogneid descended the staircase, in haste to make hisescape.
Eliseg and Dyfnwal caught him in the doorway. They carried him, boundhand and foot, into the hall, and threw him upon the fire that stillburned brightly. After a little while, they took him off the fire, andhacked off his head with a chopper that was used for jointing meat.
Star of Mercia: Historical Tales of Wales and the Marches Page 3