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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER IV. WENDOT'S REWARD.

  "Father, father, father!"

  The shrill, glad cry broke from the lips of little Gertrude almost atthe same moment as Wendot sank at her feet, spent and fainting; and thelad, making a great effort, opened his dim eyes to see the tall form ofthe English noble stooping over his little daughter, gathering her inhis arms with a gesture of passionate endearment.

  Wendot fancied he must be dreaming; perhaps it was all a strange,terrible dream: everything was swimming before his eyes in a sort ofblood-coloured mist. He gave up the effort to try to disentangle themaze in which he seemed to be moving, and was sinking intounconsciousness again when a sharp cry from his brother aroused him.

  "Wendot, Wendot! -- O father, see --they have killed him!"

  "Nay, lad, not that. Here, let me get to him.

  "Griffeth, run thou and tell the fellows to let down ropes from above todraw him up. He cannot return along that narrow ledge. He and the childhad best be drawn up by those above. Tell them to lose no time. The boymust be taken home to his mother's care. This narrow ledge is growinglike an oven. Bid one of the men run to the brook for a draught of water."

  Wendot's lips framed themselves to the word "water" as he heard itspoken. If he had but a draught of water, perhaps he could speak againand understand what was passing. As it was, he only heard the sound of aconfusion of voices, the clear tones of little Gertrude being the mostcontinuous and the most distinct. She seemed to be pouring some taleinto the ears of her listeners, and Wendot was certain, from the quick,sudden movements of his father, who was supporting him as he lay, thatthe story heard was exciting in him feelings of indignation andamazement, although the boy's brain was too much confused to tell himthe reason for this displeasure.

  But the sense of rest and safety inspired by his father's presence wasvery comforting; and when the wounded lad had been drawn to the summitof the cliff by the strong, willing arms of the retainers, and his hurtsrudely dressed by kindly hands, and his parched throat refreshed by deepdraughts of cold water, he began to shake off the sense of unrealitywhich had made him feel like one in a dream, and to marvel at theunexpected appearance on the lonely fell of his father and Lord Montacute.

  A sure-footed mountain pony was bearing him gently down the steep slope,and his questioning look called Griffeth to his side.

  "What means all this, Griffeth?" he whispered. "Whence came they? andwhat do they know? And Llewelyn and Howel, where are they? Can it bethat they --"

  He could not frame his lips to speak the words, but Griffeth understoodhim without, and his cheek flushed.

  "I fear me it is indeed as we thought. She went with them, and they lefther alone on the ledge, where once the eagle's eyry used to be.Maelgon's men came to carry her off thence. Had it not been for thee,Wendot, she would have been in their hands ere now. I would I had stoodbeside thee, brother. I would I had shared thy perils and thy hurts."

  "Thou didst better than that," answered Wendot, faintly smiling, "forthou broughtest aid in the very nick of time. And how came it that ourfather and our guest were with thee? Methought it must surely be a dreamwhen I saw them."

  "Ay, we met them journeying towards the castle when we had but made ashort mile from it. They would have reached last night but for anaccident to one of the beasts, which detained them on the road; but theyhad started ere the sun rose, and were hard by when we encountered them.Hearing our errand, some went forward as before, but others joined ourparty. It was well we were thus reinforced, for Maelgon's men fight likeveritable wolves."

  "What knoweth our father of the matter? Spakest thou to him of Llewelynand Howel?"

  "I had perforce to do so, they questioned me so closely. I know not whatthey thought. Our guest's face is not one that may be read like a book,and our father only set his lips in his stern fashion, as though hewould never open them again. I trow he is sore displeased that sons ofhis should thus act; but perchance it may not be so bad as we think."

  Wendot made no reply. He was growing too spent and weary to have wordsor thoughts to spare. It seemed as if the long and weary descent wouldnever be accomplished; and the beat of the sun beating down upon themmercilessly as they reached the lower ground turned him sick and faint.Little Gertrude, mounted now upon her palfrey, was chatteringceaselessly to her father, as he strode on beside her down the hillside;but Lord Montacute was grave and silent; and as for the face of ResVychan, it looked as if carved out of marble, as he planted himself bythe side of the sturdy pony who carried his son, and placed his armround the lad to support him during that long and weary ride.

  It was plain that the thoughts of both men were of a very seriouscomplexion, and gave them food for much reflection and consideration.

  Griffeth bounded on a little ahead of the cavalcade, excited by theevents of the day, anxious for his brother, yet intensely proud of him,envying him the chance of thus displaying his heroic qualities, yet onlywishing to have shared them -- not that anything should be detractedfrom the halo which encircled Wendot. He had reached a turn in the path,and for a moment was alone and out of sight of the company thatfollowed, when the hounds who had accompanied Wendot, and were nowreturning with them, uttered a deep bay as of welcome, and the nextmoment two dark and swarthy heads appeared from behind the shelter ofsome great boulders, and the faces of Llewelyn and Howel lookedcautiously forth.

  In a moment Griffeth was by their side, various emotions struggling inhis face for mastery; but the tie of brotherhood was a strong one, andhis first words were those of warning.

  "It is all known -- our father knows, and hers. I know not what yourpunishment will be. I have never seen our father look so stern. Do asyou will about returning home, but I wot not how you will be received."

  Llewelyn and Howel exchanged glances; and the former asked eagerly, "Andthe maid?"

  "Is safe with her father and ours. Wendot risked his life to save herfrom Maelgon's men. Nay, linger not to hear the tale, if you would flyfrom the anger of those who know that you sought to betray her. It willbe no easy thing to make peace with our father. You know his thoughtsupon the sacredness of hospitality."

  But even as he spoke Griffeth saw the change that came over hisbrothers' faces as they looked past him to something behind; then as hehimself turned quickly to see what it was, he beheld their father andtwo of the servants approaching; and Res Vychan pointed sternly to thetwo dark-leaded boys, now involuntarily quailing beneath the fieryindignation in his eyes, and said:

  "Bind them hand and foot and carry them to the castle. They shall bedealt with there as their offence shall warrant."

  Then turning on his heel, he rejoined the company; whilst Llewelyn andHowel were brought captive to the paternal halls of Dynevor.

  Wendot knew very little of the occurrences of the next few days. He wascarried to the chamber that he shared with Griffeth, and there he layfor several days and nights in a dreamy, semi-conscious state, tended byhis mother with all the skill and tenderness she possessed, and, savewhen the pain of his wounds made him restless and feverish, sleepingmuch, and troubling his head little about what went on within or withoutthe castle. He was dimly aware that little Gertrude came in and out ofhis room sometimes, holding to his mother's hands, and that her gentleprattle and little caressing gestures were very soothing and pleasant.But he did not trouble his head to wonder how it was he was lying there,nor what event had crippled him so; and only in the fevered visions ofthe night did he see himself once again standing upon the narrow ledgeof the Eagle's Crag, with a host of foes bearing down upon him tooverpower and slay both him and his charge.

  But after a few days of feverish lassitude and drowsiness the lad'smagnificent constitution triumphed -- the fever left him; and though henow lay weak and white upon his narrow bed, his mind was perfectlyclear, and he was eager and anxious to know what had happened whilst hehad been shut out from the life of the castle.

  His mother was naturally the one to whom he turned for information. Hesaw that sh
e was unwontedly pale and grave and thoughtful. As she satbeside his bed with some needlework in her hands one bright afternoon,when the sunlight was streaming into the chamber, and the air floatingin through the narrow casement was full of scent and song, his eyesfixed themselves upon her face with more of purpose and reflection, andhe begged her to tell him all that had passed.

  "For I know that our guests are still here. Gertrude comes daily to seeme. But where are Llewelyn and Howel? I have not seen them once. Is myfather angry with them still? or have they been punished and forgiven?"

  "Your brothers are still close prisoners," answered the mother with asigh. "They have been chastised with more severity than any son of ourshas needed to be chastised before; but they still remain sullen andobdurate and revengeful, and thy father will not permit them to come outfrom their retirement so long as our guests remain. Perchance it is bestso, for it would but cause trouble in the house for them to meet. Iwould that they could see matters differently; and yet there are manyamongst our people who would say that the true patriotism was theirs."

  "And our guests, mother -- why linger they still? Methought they Wouldleave so soon as Lord Montacute returned."

  "So they purposed once; but he has wished to remain till thou art soundonce more, my son. He hath a very warm feeling towards thee, and wouldspeak to thee of something that is in his heart ere he quits Dynevor. Hehas spoken of it to thy father and to me, but he wishes thee to hear itfrom his own lips."

  Wendot's interest was aroused. Something in his mother's expression toldhim that the thing of which she spoke was a matter of some importance.As an eldest son and forward for his years, and of a reflective andthoughtful turn, he had often been consulted by his parents, andparticularly by his mother, in matters rather beyond his comprehension,and had shared in discussions which many youths of his age would haveshunned and despised. Now, therefore, he looked eagerly at his motherand said:

  "What is it he wishes to say Canst thou not tell me thyself?"

  The Lady of Dynevor paused awhile in thought; and when she spoke, it didnot appear to be in direct reply to her son's question.

  "Wendot," she said gravely, "thou hast heard much talk of the troubledstate of these times and of the nation's affairs. Thou hast lived longenough to see how hopeless some amongst us feel it ever to hope forunity amongst ourselves. We are torn and distracted by faction and feud.Families are banded together against families, and brothers strive withbrothers for the inheritance each claims as his own. Each lord of somesmall territory tries to wrest from his weaker neighbour that whichbelongs to him; and if for a moment at some great crisis petty feuds areforgotten, and a blow is struck for national liberty, scarce has peacebeen proclaimed again before the old strife breaks out once more, andour fair land is desolated by a more grievous war than ever the Englishwage."

  Wendot bent his head in voiceless assent. He knew something of hiscountry's history, and that his mother spoke only the sad truth.

  "My son," continued she after a pause, "it chances sometimes in thistroubled life of ours that we are called upon to make choice, notbetween good and evil, but between two courses, both of which are besetwith difficulties and obstacles, both of which mingle together evil andgood, for which and against which much may be argued on both sides, andmany things that are true be said for and against both. To some suchchoice as this has our poor country now come. Experience has taught usthat she is incapable of uniting all her forces and of making of herselfone compact, united kingdom. That course, and that alone, would be hertrue salvation; but that course she will not take, and failing that, shehas to choose between being torn and rent by faction till she is an easyprey to the English king, who will then divide her territories amongsthis own hungry and rapacious barons, or for the princes to submit to payhim the homage for their lands which he (possibly with injustice)demands, but which if paid will make of him their friend and protector,and will enable the country to live in peace and prosperity, assuredthat the king will support those who acknowledge him, and that he willnot deprive of their ancestral rights any who will bring their homage tohim, and hold their territory as it were from him. Understandest thouthus much?"

  "Ay, mother, I understand it well; and though there is something in thethought that stirs my blood and sets it coursing through my veins inindignation -- for I see not by what right the English king lays claimto our fair lands -- still I know that conquest gives to the conqueror aright, and that if he chose to march against us with his armies, hemight well find us too much weakened by our petty feuds to resist hisstrong veterans. And the English are not all bad. I have learned thatthese many days whilst our guests have been with us. I have thought attimes that they would be true friends and allies, and that we might dowell to copy them in many ways. In truth, if the choice lies betwixtbeing rent in pieces by each other and giving homage to the greatEdward, who can be merciful and just, I would rather choose the latter.For there must be something grand and noble about him by what our littlemaid says; and to pay homage is no such hard thing. Why, does not hehimself pay homage to the King of France for the lands he holds in hiskingdom?"

  A look of relief crossed the face of the mother as she heard these wordsfrom her first-born son. She took his hand in hers and said earnestly:

  "Wendot, I am glad to hear thee speak thus, for thou art the heir ofDynevor, and upon thee much may fall some day. Thou knowest what thybrothers are -- I speak of Llewelyn and Howel. I cannot but fear forthem -- unless, indeed, the rapacious greed I sometimes see in Llewelynproves stronger than his fierce hatred to the English, and he prefers todo homage for his lands rather than lose them. But thou art the head ofthe family, and the chief power will rest with thee when thy father isgone. I counsel thee, if the time comes when thou must make thy choice,be not led away by blind hatred of the English. They may prove lesscruel foes than thine own countrymen are to one another. If Wales maynot be united under one native king, let her think well ere she rejectsthe grace held out to all who will yield fealty to the English monarch.That is what I wished to say to thee. Remember that the English are notalways cruel, always rapacious. There are generous, noble, honourablemen amongst them, of whom I am sure our guest is one."

  "Ay, he has a grand face," said Wendot. "A face one can both love andtrust. And all that the little one tells me of the king and his familyinclines my heart towards him and his. I will remember what you havesaid, mother, and will ponder your words. Methinks it is no lovely thingto hate as Llewelyn and Howel hate; it makes men act rather as fiendsthan as honourable soldiers should."

  The conversation ended there, and was not renewed; but the very next dayLord Montacute sought Wendot's room, when the lad was lying alone,wearying somewhat of his own company, and the light sprang into his eyesas he saw the guest approach, for in his own boyish way he had a greatadmiration for this man.

  "Well, lad, I am glad to see thee looking something more substantial andlike thine own self," said Lord Montacute, seating himself upon the edgeof the bed and taking Wendot's hand in his. "This hand has done goodservice to me and mine -- good service, indeed, to the King of England,who would have been forced to chastise with some severity the outrageplanned upon a subject of his, and one dear to him from association withhis children. Tell me, boy, what can I do for thee when I tell this taleto my lord of England? What boon hast thou to ask of him or of me? Forthou needest not fear; whatever it be it shall be granted."

  "Nay, I have no boon," answered Wendot, his cheek flushing. "I did butdo my duty by any guest beneath my father's roof. I was responsible forthe safety of the maid. I had taken that duty on myself. I want nothing;she is safe, and that is enough. Only if you would speak to my fatherfor my brothers Llewelyn and Howel. I know they have merited deepdispleasure; yet they are but lads, and doubtless they were led away byevil counsels. He would hear pleading better from you than from me."

  "It shall be done," said Lord Montacute, still regarding Wendotsteadily; "and now, boy, I would speak to thee seriously and gravely
asman to man, for thou hast proved thyself to be a man in action, incourage, and in foresight. And thy parents tell me that thou artacquainted with the burning questions of the day, and that thy brothers'headstrong hatreds and prejudices do not blind thee."

  Wendot made no reply, but fixed his bright eyes steadily on LordMontacute's face. He on his side, after a brief silence, began again inclear, terse phrases:

  "Lad, if thou livest thou wilt some day be Lord of Dynevor -- master ofthis fair heritage, the fairest, perhaps, in all South Wales. Thou hastnoble blood in thy veins -- the blood of princes and kings; thou hastmuch that men covet to call their own; but thou art surrounded by foeswho are jealous of thee, and by kinsmen who have already cast covetouseyes on thy possessions."

  "Ay, that traitorous Meredith ap Res, whose mother is English, and whowould -- But pardon me. I would not willingly speak against your nation.Indeed, I feel not bitter as others do; only --"

  "Boy, thou art right to be loyal and true. I like thee none the less forthe patriotic fervour which breaks out in thee. But I am glad that thoushouldest see both sides of this matter, that thou shouldest see theperil menacing thy brothers from thine own kinsman, who has strengthenedhimself by an English alliance. It is useless to blind thine eyes towhat is coming. They tell me thou art not blind; and I come to thee,lad, because I think well of thee, to ask if it would please thee tostrengthen thy position in thine own land and in Edward's sight by analliance with an English maiden of noble birth. Hast thou ever thoughtof such a thing?"

  Wendot's wide-open eyes gave answer enough. Lord Montacute smiledslightly as he said:

  "Ah, thou art full young for such thoughts; and thou livest not in theatmosphere of courts, where babes are given in marriage almost fromtheir cradles. But listen, Res Wendot; I speak not in jest, I am a manof my word. Thou hast risked thy life to save my little maid. Thou art anoble youth, and I honour both thee and thy parents. The maid has toldme that she loves thee well, and would be well pleased to wed thee whenshe is of the age to do so. These are but childish words, yet they mayprove themselves true in days to come. It is in the interests of allthose who have the peace and prosperity of this land at heart tostrengthen themselves in every way they can. My little daughter willhave an ample dower to bring her husband; and I will keep her for theeif thou wilt be willing to claim her in days to come. I should like wellto see her ruling in these fair halls; and thou hast proved already thatthou art a knightly youth, whose hand she may well take with confidenceand pride.

  "Thy parents are willing; it waits only for thee to say. What thinkestthou of a troth plight with the little maid?"

  Wendot's face glowed with a sort of boyish shame, not unmingled withpride; but the idea was altogether too strange and new to him to bereadily grasped.

  "I have never thought of such things," he said shyly, "and I am tooyoung to wed. Perchance I may grow into some rough, uncouth fellow, whomay please not the maiden when she reaches years of discretion. Methinksit would scarce be fair to plight her now, at least not with such aplight as might not be broken. If our nations meet in fierce conflict,as they yet may, it would be a cruel thing to have linked her hand withthat of a rebel, for such we are called by the English monarch, theysay, when we rise to fight for our liberties bequeathed by our ancestors.

  "Nay, noble lord, frown not on me. There be moments when methinks twospirits strive within me, and I am fearful of trusting even myself. Iwould not that grief or sorrow should touch her through me. Let me comeand claim her anon, when I have grown to man's estate, and can bring herlands and revenues. But bind her not to one whose fate may be beset withperils and shadows. There be those amongst our bards who see into thefuture; and they tell us that a dark fate hangs over the house ofDynevor, and that we four shall be the last to bear the name."

  Lord Montacute was looking grave and earnest. There was something in hisface which indicated disappointment, but also something that spoke ofrelief. Possibly he himself had offered this troth plight with somethingof hesitation, offered it out of gratitude to the noble lad, and out ofrespect to his parents, who, as he saw, would prove valuable allies tothe English cause, could they but be induced to give their allegiance toit. Yet there was another side to the picture, too; and Wendot was tooyoung for any one to predict with certainty what would be his course inthe future. The hot blood of his race ran in his veins; and though hisjudgment was cool, and he saw things in a reasonable and manly light, itwould be rash to predict what the future might have in store for him.

  "Well, lad, thou hast spoken bravely and well," said the Englishman,after a pause for thought. "Perchance thy words are right; perchance itwill be well to let matters rest as they are for the present. We willhave no solemn troth plight betwixt ye twain; but the maid shall bepromised to none other these next four years, so that if thou carest toclaim her ere she reaches woman's estate, thou shalt find her waitingfor thee. And now I must say thee farewell, for tomorrow we ride awaythe way we came. I trust to see thee at the king's court one of thesedays, and to make known to his royal majesty the noble youth of Dynevor."

  Wendot was left alone then for some time, pondering the strange offermade to him, and wondering whether he had been foolish to refuse thepromised reward. He had never seriously thought of marriage, although inthose days wedlock was entered upon very young if there were anyadvantage to be gained from it. A lad of fifteen is seldom sentimental;but Wendot was conscious of a very warm spot in his heart for littleGertrude, and he knew that he should miss her sorely when she went, andthink of her much. Would it have been a sweet or a bitter thing to havefelt himself pledged to a daughter of England? He felt that he could nottell; but at least the decision was made now, and his words could not berecalled.

  Just ere the sun set that summer's day there came down the stonecorridor which led to his room the patter of little feet, and he leanedup on his elbow with brightening eyes as the door opened and littleGertrude came dancing in.

  "I thought I was to have been married to you, Wendot, before we wentaway," she said, looking into his face with the most trusting expressionin her soft dark eyes; "but father says you will come to marry me someday at the king's court. Perhaps that will be better, for I should likeEleanor and Joanna to see you. They would like you so, and you wouldlike them. But do come soon, Wendot. I do so like you; and I shall wantto show you to them all. And I have broken my gold coin in two -- theone the king gave me once. I got the armourer to do it, and to make ahole in each half. You must wear one half round your neck, and I willwear the other. And that will be almost the same as being married, willit not? And you will never forget me, will you?"

  Wendot let her hang the half of the coin round his neck by a silkenthread, strange new thoughts crowding into his mind as he felt her softlittle hands about him. Suddenly he clasped them in both of his andpressed warm kisses upon them. Gertrude threw her arms about his neck ina childish paroxysm of affection, saying as she did so between her kisses:

  "Now, it's just like being husband and wife; and we shall never forgetone another -- never."