The Lord of Dynevor: A Tale of the Times of Edward the First

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER II. THE BROTHERS

  "What is that you dare to say?"

  The voice was harsh, the words were spoken with a rough accent, unlikethe gentler tones of Wendot and Griffeth. The child uttered a little cryand shrank back away from the grip of the strong hand, and might havebeen in some danger of losing her balance and of falling over thebalustrade, had not Wendot thrown a protecting arm round her, whilstpushing back with the other hand that of the rude interloper.

  "Llewelyn! for shame!" he said in his own tongue. "Art thou a man, andclaimest the blood of princes, and yet canst stoop to frighten aninoffensive child?"

  "She spoke of conquest -- the conquest of our country," cried Llewelynfiercely, in the hated English tongue, scowling darkly at the littlegirl as he spoke. "Thinkest thou that I will stand patiently by and hearsuch words? What right hath she or any one besides to speak of thattyrant and usurper in such tones?"

  "He is not a tyrant, he is not a usurper!" cried the little LadyGertrude, recovering herself quickly, and, whilst still holding Wendotby the hand, turning fearlessly upon the dark-faced lad who had startledand terrified her at the first. "I know of whom you are speaking -- itis of our great and noble King Edward. You do not know him -- you cannotknow how great and good he is. I will not hear you speak against him. Ilove him next best to my own father. He is kind and good to everybody.If you would all give your homage to him you would be happy and safe,and he would protect you, and --"

  But Llewelyn's patience was exhausted; he would listen no more. With afierce gesture of hatred that made the child shrink back again he turnedupon her, and it seemed for a moment almost as though he would havestruck her, despite Wendot's sturdy protecting arm, had not his ownshoulder been suddenly grasped by an iron hand, and he himselfconfronted by the stern countenance of his father.

  "What means this, boy?" asked Res Vychan severely. "Art thou daring toraise thine arm against a child, a lady, and thy father's guest? Forshame! I blush for thee. Ask pardon instantly of the lady and of herfather. I will have no such dealings in mine house. Thou shouldst bewell assured of that."

  The black-browed boy was crimson with rage and shame, but there was noyielding in the haughty face. He confronted his father with flashingeyes, and as he did so he met the keen, grave glance of the stranger'sfixed upon him with a calm scrutiny which aroused his fiercest rage.

  "I will not ask pardon," he shouted. "I will not degrade my tongue byuttering such words. I will not --"

  The father's hand descended heavily upon his son's head, in a blow whichwould have stunned a lad less hardy and hard-headed. Res Vychan was notone to be defied with impunity by his own sons, and he had had hardencounters of will before now with Llewelyn.

  "Choose, boy," he said with brief sternness. "Either do my will and obeyme, or thou wilt remain a close prisoner till thou hast come to thysenses. My guests shall not be insulted by thy forward tongue. Barbarousand wild as the English love to call us, they shall find that Res Vychanis not ignorant of those laws which govern the world in which they liveand move. Ask pardon of the lady, or to the dungeon thou goest."

  Llewelyn glanced up into his father's face, and saw no yielding there.Howel was making vehement signs to him which he and he alone couldinterpret. His other brothers were eagerly gazing at him, and Griffetheven went so for as to murmur into his ear some words of entreaty.

  It seemed as though the silence which followed Res Vychan's words wouldnever be broken, but at last the culprit spoke, and spoke in a low,sullen tone.

  "I meant no harm. I would not have hurt her."

  "Ask her pardon then, boy, and tell her so."

  "Nay, force him no more," said the little lady, who was regarding thiscurious scene with lively interest, and who began to feel sorry for thedark wild boy who had frightened her by his vehemence before; "I was toblame myself. I should not have spoken as I did.

  "Father, tell them how my tongue is always running away with me. Hastnot thou told me a hundred times that it would get me into trouble oneof these days? It is right that he should love his country. Do not thinkill of him for that."

  "Ay, let the lad go now, good friend," quoth Lord Montacute. "No doubtthis little witch of mine was at the bottom of the mischief. Her tongue,as she truly says, is a restless and mischievous possession. She hasfound a stanch protector at least, and will come to no harm amongst thystalwart lads. I could envy thee such a double brace of boys. I would ithad pleased Providence to send me a son."

  "Nay, father, say not so," cried little Lady Gertrude coaxingly. "Iwould not have a brother for all the world. Thou wouldst love him sowell, if thou hadst him, that thou wouldst have none to spare for thymaid. I have seen how it ever is. I love to have all thy heart for mineown."

  The father smiled, but Res Vychan's face was still severe, and he hadnot loosed his clasp upon Llewelyn's arm.

  "Say that thou art sorry ere I let thee go," he said, in low but verystern tones; and after a moment's hesitation, Llewelyn spoke in audibletones.

  "I am sorry," he said slowly; "I am sorry."

  And then as his father's clasp upon his arm relaxed he darted away likean arrow from the bow, and plunged with Howel through a dark and gloomydoorway which led up a winding turret stair to a narrow circularchamber, which the brothers shared together.

  "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he panted fiercely; "ay, that indeed I am. Sorrythat I did not wring her neck as the fowler wrings the neck of the birdhis shaft hath brought down; sorry I did not cast her headlong down thesteep precipice, that there might be one less of the hated racecontaminating the air of our pure Wales with their poisonous breath.Sorry! ay, that I am! I would my hand had done a deed which should haveset proud Edward's forces in battle array against us. I would that thistampering with traitors were at an end, and that we warriors of SouthWales might stand shoulder to shoulder, firmly banded against theforeign foe. I would plunge a dagger in the false heart of yon proudEnglishman as he lies sleeping in his bed tonight, if by doing so Icould set light to the smouldering flame of national hatred.

  "What sayest thou? Can we do nought to bring upon us an open war, whichis a thousand times better than this treacherous, hollow peace? Ourfather and mother are half won over to the cause of slavery. They --"

  Llewelyn paused, choking back the fierce tide of passion which went farto unman him. He had not forgotten the humiliation placed upon him sorecently, when his father had compelled him to sue for pardon to anEnglish maiden. His heart was burning, his soul was stirred to itsdepths. He had to stop short lest his passion should carry him away.

  Howel seemed to understand him without the medium of words. The linkswhich bound the twin brothers together were very subtle and very strong.If Llewelyn were the more violent and headstrong, Howel was more thanhis equal in diplomacy. He shared every feeling of his brother's heart,but he was less outspoken and less rash.

  "I know what thou wouldst do," he said thoughtfully: "thou wouldst forceupon our father a step which shall make a rupture with the Englishinevitable. Thou wouldst do a thing which should bring upon us the wrathof the mighty Edward, and force both ourselves and our neighbours totake arms against him. Is not that so?"

  "Ay, truly; and could such a thing be, gladly would I lay down my lifein the cause of liberty and freedom."

  Howel was pondering deeply.

  "Perchance it might be done," he said.

  Llewelyn eagerly raised his head.

  "Thinkest thou so? How?"

  "I know not yet, but we shall have time for thought. Knowest thou thatthe maid will remain here beneath our mother's charge for a while,whilst our father goes forward as far as the Abbey of Strata Floridawith yon stranger, to guide him on his way? The maid will remain hereuntil her father's return."

  "How knowest thou that?"

  "I had it from Wenwynwyn's lips. He heard the discussion in the hall,and it seems that this Lord Montacute would be glad to be free of thecare of the child for a while. Our mother delights in the charge of alittle maid, and
thus it will be as I have said."

  A strange fire gleamed in Llewelyn's eyes. The brothers looked at eachother a good while in silence.

  "And thou thinkest --" said Llewelyn at last.

  Howel was some time in replying, and his answer was a littleindeterminate, although sufficiently significant.

  "Why, the maid will be left here; but when her father returns to claimher, perchance she will not be found. If that were so, thinkest thou notthat nought but open war would lie before us?"

  Llewelyn's eyes glowed. He said not a word, and the darkness gatheredround the boys in the narrow chamber. They thought not of descending orof asking for food, even after their day's hunting in the hills. Theywere hardy, and seasoned to abstemious ways, and had no room forthoughts of such a kind. Silence was settling down upon the castle, andthey had no intention of leaving their room again that night. Darkthoughts were their companions as they undressed and made ready for bed;and hardly were they settled there before the door opened, and the oldbard Wenwynwyn entered.

  This old man was almost like a father to these boys, and Llewelyn andHowel were particularly attached to him and he to them. He shared to thefull their ardent love for their country and their untempered hatred ofthe English race. He saw, as they did, nothing but ill in thetemporizing attitude now to be found amongst the smaller Welshchieftains with regard to the claims made by the English monarch; andmuch of the fierce hostility to be found in the boys had been the resultof the lessons instilled into their mind by the wild-eyed, passionateold bard, one of the last of a doomed race.

  "Wenwynwyn, is it thou?"

  "Ay, boys, it is I. You did well to abstain from sitting at meat withthe stranger tonight. The meat went nigh to choke me that was swallowedin his presence."

  "How long stays he, contaminating our pure air?"

  "He himself is off by sunrise tomorrow, and Res Vychan goes with him. Heleaves behind the little maid in the care of thy mother."

  A strange smile crossed the face of the old man, invisible in the darkness.

  "Strange for the parent bird to leave the dove in the nest of the hawk-- the eyry of the eagle."

  "Ha!" quoth Llewelyn quickly, "that thought hath likewise come to thee,good Wenwynwyn."

  The old man made no direct response, but went on speaking in low even tones.

  "The maid has dwelt in the household of the great king. She has playedwith his children, been the companion of the young princesses. She isbeloved of them and of the monarch and his wife. Let them but hear thatshe is lost in the fastness of Dynevor, and the royal Edward will marchin person to her rescue. All the country will rise in arms to defenditself. The north will join with the south, and Wales will shake off thehated foreign yoke banded as one man against the foreign foe."

  The boys listened spellbound. They had often talked together of somestep which might kindle the conflagration, but had never yet seen theoccasion. Hot-headed, rash, reckless as were the youths; wild, tameless,and fearless as was the ancient bard; they had still been unable to hitupon any device which might set a light to the train. Discontent andresentment were rife all over the country, but it was the fashion ratherto temporize with the invader than to defy him. There was a strong partygathering in the country whose policy was that of paying homage toEdward and retaining their lands under his protection and countenance,as being more truly patriotic and farsighted than continuing the oldstruggle for supremacy among themselves. This was a policy utterlyincomprehensible both to the boys and the old man, and stirred the bloodof the lads to boiling pitch.

  "What can we do?" asked Llewelyn hoarsely.

  "I will tell you," whispered the old man, approaching close to the bedwhereon the brothers lay wide-eyed and broad awake. "This very night Ileave the castle by the postern door, and in the moonlight I make my wayto the commot of Llanymddyvri, where dwells that bold patriot Maelgon apCaradoc. To him I tell all, and he will risk everything in the cause. Itwill be very simply done. You boys must feign a while -- must feignfriendship for the maid thus left behind. Your brothers have won herheart already; you must not be behind them. The dove must have no fearof the young eaglets. She has a high courage of her own; she lovesadventure and frolic; she will long to stretch her wings, and wanderamid the mountain heights, under the stanch protection of her comradesof Dynevor.

  "Then listen, boys. The day will come when the thing is to be done. Insome of the wild fastnesses of the upper Towy will be lurking the boldbands of Maelgon ap Caradoc. Thither you must lead the unsuspiciousmaid, first by some device getting rid of your brothers, who might tryto thwart the scheme. These bold fellows will carry off the maid to thesafe keeping of Maelgon, and once let her be his prisoner, there is nofear of her escaping from his hands. Edward himself and all his forcesat his back will scarce wrest away the prize, and the whole country willbe united and in arms ere it suffer the tyrant to march through our fairvales."

  Whilst within this upper turret chamber this plot was being concoctedagainst the innocent child by two passionate, hot-headed boys and one ofthe ancient race of bards, the little maiden was herself sleepingsoundly and peacefully within a small inner closet, close to the roomwhere Gladys, the lady of the castle, reposed; and with the earlieststreak of dawn, when the child opened her eyes upon the strange barewalls of the Welsh stronghold, the first thing that met her eyes was thesweet and gentle face of the chatelaine bending tenderly over her.

  Although the present lady of Dynevor was the sister of the bold andfierce Llewelyn, Prince of North Wales, who gave more trouble to theKing of England than did anybody else, she was herself of a gentle andthoughtful disposition, more inclined to advocate peace than war, andmore far-seeing, temperate, and well-informed than most persons of hertime, and especially than the women, who for the most part had but veryvague ideas as to what was going on in the country.

  She had had many thoughts herself during the still hours of this summernight, and when she bent over the sleeping child and wakened her by akiss, she felt a strange tenderness towards her, which seemed to bereciprocated by the little one, who suddenly flung her arms about herneck and kissed her passionately.

  "Is my father gone?" she asked, recollection coming back.

  "Not gone, but going soon," answered the Lady of Dynevor, smiling; "thatis why I have come to waken thee early, little Gertrude, that thoumayest receive his farewell kiss and see him ride away. Thou wilt not begrieved to be left with us for a while, little one? Thou wilt not pinein his absence?"

  "Not if I have you to take care of me," answered the child confidingly-- "you and Wendot and Griffeth. I am weary of always travelling onrough roads. I will gladly stay here a while with you."

  There was the bustle of preparation going on in the hall when the ladydescended with the child hanging on to her hand. Gertrude broke away andran to her father, who was sitting at the board, with Wendot standingbeside him listening eagerly to his talk. The boy's handsome face wasalight, and he seemed full of eager interest in what was being said.Lord Montacute frequently raised his head and gave the lad a look ofkeen scrutiny. Even whilst caressing his little daughter his interestseemed to be centred in Wendot, and when at parting the lad held hisstirrup for him, and gently restrained little Gertrude, who was indanger of being trampled on by the pawing charger, Lord Montacute lookedfor a moment very intently at the pair, and then let his glance wanderfor a moment over the grand fortress of Dynevor and the beautiful valleyit commanded.

  Then he turned once more to Wendot with a kindly though penetrating smile.

  "In the absence of your father, Wendot, you are the master and guardianof this castle, its occupants and its treasures. I render my littledaughter into your safe keeping. Of your hands I shall ask her back whenI return in a week's time."

  Wendot flushed with pleasure and gratification. What boy does not likethe thought of being looked upon as his father's substitute? He raisedhis head with a gesture of pride, and clasped the little soft hand ofGertrude more closely in his.

  "I w
ill take the trust, Lord Montacute," he said. "I will hold myselfresponsible for the safety of Lady Gertrude. At my hands demand her whenyou return. If she is not safe and well, take my life as the forfeit."

  Lord Montacute smiled slightly at the manly words and bearing of thelad, but he did not like him the less for either. As for littleGertrude, she gazed up into the bold bright face of Wendot, and claspinghis hand in hers, she said:

  "Am I to belong to you now? I think I shall like that, you are so braveand so kind to me."

  The father gave the pair another of his keen looks, and rode off in thebright morning sunshine, promising not to be very long away.

  "I shan't fret, now that I have you and the Lady of Dynevor," said thechild confidingly to Wendot. "I've often been left for a long time atthe palace with the ladies Eleanor and Joanna, and with Alphonso andBritton, but I shall like this much better. There is no governess here,and we can do as we like. I want to know everything you do, and goeverywhere with you."

  Wendot promised to show the little lady everything she wanted, and ledher in to breakfast, which was a very important meal in those days. Allthe four brothers were gathered at the board, and the child lookedrather shyly at the dark-browed twins, whom she hardly knew one from theother, and whom she regarded with a certain amount of awe. But there wasnothing hostile in the manner of any of the party. Llewelyn was silent,but when he did speak it was in very different tones from those of lastnight; and Howel was almost brilliant in his sallies, and evoked many apeal of laughter from the lighthearted little maiden. Partings with herfather were of too common occurrence to cause her much distress, and shewas too well used to strange places to feel lost in these newsurroundings, and she had her own nurse and attendant left with her.

  Full of natural curiosity, the child was eager to see everything ofinterest near her temporary home, and the brothers were her very devotedservants, taking her everywhere she wished to go, helping her over everydifficult place, and teaching her to have such confidence in them, andsuch trust in their guidance, that she soon ceased to feel fear howeverwild was the ascent or descent, however lonely the region in which shefound herself.

  Although Wendot continued her favourite, and Griffeth stood next, owingto his likeness to his eldest brother, the twins soon won her favouralso. They were in some respects more interesting, as they were lesseasily understood, wilder and stranger in their ways, and always full ofstories of adventure and warfare, which fascinated her imagination evenwhen she knew that they spoke of the strife between England and Wales.She had a high spirit and a love of adventure, which association withthese stalwart boys rapidly developed.

  One thing about Llewelyn and Howel gratified her childlike vanity, andgave her considerable pleasure. They would praise her agility andcourage, and urge her on to make trial of her strength and nerve, whenthe more careful Wendot would beg her to be careful and not risk herselfby too great recklessness. A few days spent in this pure, free airseemed to infuse new life into her frame, and the colour in her cheeksand the light in her eyes deepened day by day, to the motherlysatisfaction of the Lady of Dynevor and the pride of Wendot, whoregarded the child as his especial charge.

  But in his father's absence many duties fell upon Wendot, and there camea bright evening when he and Griffeth were occupied about the castle,and only Llewelyn and Howel had leisure to wander with the little guestto her favourite spot to see the red sun set.

  Llewelyn was full of talk that evening, and spoke with a rude eloquenceand fire that always riveted the attention of the child. He told of thewild, lonely beauty of a certain mountain peak which he pointed out upthe valley, of the weird charm of the road thither, and above all of theeagle's nest which was to be found there, and the young eaglets beingnow reared therein, which he and Howel meant to capture and keep astheir own, and which they purposed to visit the very next day to see ifthey were fit yet to leave the nest.

  Gertrude sat entranced as the boy talked, and when she heard of theeagle's nest she gave a little cry of delight.

  "O Llewelyn, take me with you. Let me see the eagle's nest and thelittle eaglets."

  But the boy shook his head doubtfully.

  "You could not get as far. It is a long way, and a very rough walk."

  The child shook back her curling hair defiantly.

  "I could do it! I know I could. I could go half the way on my palfrey,and walk the rest. You would help me. You know how well I can climb. Oh,do take me -- do take me! I should so love to see an eagle's nest."

  But still Llewelyn shook his head.

  "Wendot would not let you go; he would say it was too dangerous."

  Again came the little defiant toss.

  "I am not Wendot's slave; I can do as I choose."

  "If he finds out he will stop you."

  "But we need not tell him, need we?"

  "I thought you always told him everything."

  The child stamped her little foot.

  "I tell him things generally, but I can keep a secret. If he would stopus from going, we will not tell him, nor Griffeth either. We will get upvery early and go by ourselves. We could do that, could we not, and comeback with the young eaglets in our hands? O let us go! let us do itsoon, and take me with you, kind Llewelyn! Indeed I shall not be in yourway. I will be very good. And you know you have taught me to climb sowell. I know I can go where you can go. You said so yourself once."

  Llewelyn turned his head away to conceal a smile half of triumph, halfof contempt. A strange flash was in his eyes as he looked up the valleytowards the crag upon which he had told the child the eyry of the eagleshung. She thought he was hesitating still, and laid a soft little handupon his arm.

  "Please say that I may go."

  He turned quickly and looked at her. For a moment she shrank back fromthe strange glow in his eyes; but her spirit rose again, and she saidrather haughtily: "You need not be angry with me. If you don't wish meto come I will stay at home with Wendot. I do not choose to ask favoursof anybody if they will not give them readily."

  "I should like to take you if it would be safe," answered Llewelyn,speaking as if ashamed of his petulance or reluctance.

  "Howel, could she climb to the crag where we can look down upon the eyryif we helped her up the worst places?"

  "I think she could."

  The child's face flushed; she clasped her hands together and listenedeagerly whilst the brothers discussed the plan which in the end wasagreed to -- a very early start secretly from the castle before the daydawned, the chief point to be observed beforehand being absolutesecrecy, so that the projected expedition should not reach the earseither of Wendot, his mother, or Griffeth. It was to be carried outentirely by the twins themselves, with Gertrude as their companion.