CHAPTER IX. THE RED FLAME OF WAR.
"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 manto bring ruin upon a noble cause, by banding with the alien oppressoragainst 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 acrowd of retainers and soldiers, so eagerly discussing some matter ofvital interest that the brothers stepped outside upon the battlementedterrace 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 faceof a boy, but of a youth of two-and-twenty summers, and one upon whomthe cares and responsibilities of life had sat somewhat heavily. Thetall, well-knit frame had taken upon it the stature and developed graceof manhood; the sun-browned face was lined with traces of thought andcare, though the blue eyes sparkled with their old bright and readysmile, and the stern lines of the lips were shaded and hidden by thedrooping moustache of golden brown. There were majesty, power, andintellect stamped upon the face of the young Lord of Dynevor, and it wasvery plain to all who observed his relations with those about him thathe was master of his own possession, and that though he was greatlybeloved by all who came in contact with him, he was respected andobeyed, and in some things feared.
By his side stood Griffeth, almost as much his shadow as of yore. To acasual observer the likeness between the brothers was very remarkable,but a closer survey showed many points of dissimilarity. Griffeth'sfigure was slight to spareness, and save in moments of excitement therewas something of languor in his movements. The colour in his cheeks wasnot the healthy brown of exposure to sun and wind, but the fleetinghectic flush of long-standing insidious disease, and his eyes had afar-away look -- dreamy and absorbed; whilst those of his brotherexpressed rather watchful observation of what went on around him, andresolution 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 stillwith many of their characteristics unchanged. They were taller and morestoutly built than Wendot and Griffeth, and their dark skins andcoal-black hair gave something of ferocity and wildness to theirappearance, which look was borne out by the style of dress adopted,whilst the young Lords of Dynevor affected something of the refinementand richness of apparel introduced by the English.
For the past years a friendly intercourse had been kept up betweenDynevor and Carregcennen. The country had been at peace -- such peace asinternal dissensions would allow it -- and no one had disturbed the sonsof Res Vychan in the possession of their ancestral rights. The tiebetween the brothers had therefore been more closely drawn, and Wendot'sresponsibility for the submissive behaviour of the turbulent twins hadmade him keep a constant eye upon them, and had withheld them on theirside from attempting to foment the small and fruitless struggles againstEnglish authority which were from time to time arising between theborder-land chief and the Lords of the Marches.
But now something very different was in the wind. After almost fiveyears of peace with England, revolt had broken out in North Wales.David, the brother of Llewelyn, had commenced it, and the prince hadfollowed the example thus set him. He had broken out into openrebellion, and had summoned the whole nation to stand by him in oneunited and gallant effort to free the country from the foreign foe, andunite it once again as an undivided province beneath the rule of onesovereign.
The call was enthusiastically responded to. North Wales rose as one man,and flocked to the banners of the prince and his brother. South Waleswas feeling the contagion of coming strife, and the pulse of the nationbeat wildly at the thought that they might win liberty by the overthrowof the foe. One after another the petty chiefs, who had sworn fealty toEdward, renounced their allegiance, and mustered their forces to jointhose of Llewelyn and David. The whole country was in a wild ferment ofpatriotic excitement. The hour seemed to them to have arrived when allcould once again band together in triumphant vindication of theirnational rights.
Llewelyn and Howel ap Res Vychan were amongst the first to tender theirallegiance to the cause, and, having sent on a compact band of armed mento announce their coming in person, had themselves hurried to Dynevor topersuade their brothers there to join the national cause.
And they found Wendot less indisposed than they had feared. The fiveyears which had passed over his head since he had fallen under the spellof the English king's regal sway had a good deal weakened the impressionthen made upon him. Edward had not visited the country in person sincethat day, and the conduct of the English Lords of the Marches, and ofthose who held lands in the subjected country, was not such as to endeartheir cause to the hearts of the sons of Wales. Heart-burnings andjealousies were frequent, and Wendot had often had his spirit stirredwithin him at some tale of outrage and wrong. The upright justice of theking was not observed by his subjects, and the hatred to any kind offoreign yoke was inherently strong in these sons of the mountains. Inthe studies the Dynevor brothers had prosecuted together they hadimbibed many noble thoughts and many lofty aspirations, and these,mingling with the patriotic instinct so strongly bound up in the heartsof Cambria's sons, had taught them a distrust of princes and an intenselove for freedom's cause, as well as a strong conviction that right mustever triumph over might.
So when the news arrived that the north was in open revolt, it struck achord in the hearts of both brothers; and when the dark-browed twinscame with the news that they had openly joined the standard of Llewelyn,they did not encounter the opposition they had expected, and it was withan eager hopefulness that they urged upon the Lord of Dynevor to lendthe strength of his arm to the national cause.
"Wendot, bethink thee. When was not Dynevor in the van when her countrycalled on her? If thou wilt go with us, we shall carry all the southwith us; but hang thou back, and the cause may be lost. Brother, whydost thou hesitate? why dost thou falter? It is the voice of thy countrycalling thee. Wilt thou not heed that call? O Wendot, thou knowest thatwhen our parents lived -- when they bid us not look upon the foe withtoo great bitterness -- it was only because a divided Wales could notstand, and that submission to England was better than the rending of thekingdom by internal strife. But if she would have stood united againstthe foreign foe, thinkest thou they would ever have held back? Nay; ResVychan, our father, would have been foremost in the strife. Are we notnear in blood to Llewelyn of Wales, prince of the north? Doth not thetie of blood as well as the call of loyalty urge us to his side? Whydost thou ponder still? Why dost thou hesitate? Throw to the wind allidle scruples, and come. Think what a glorious future may lie before ourcountry if we will but stand together now!"
Wendot's cheek flushed, his eye kindled. He did indeed believe that werehis father living he would be one of the first to hasten to hiskinsman's side. If indeed the united country could be strong enough tothrow off the yoke, what a victory it would be! Was not every son ofWales bound to his country's cause at such a time?
There was but one thing that made him hesitate. Was his word of honourin any wise pledged to Edward? He had paid him homage for his lands: didthat act bind him to obedience at all costs?
But such refinements of honour were in advance of the thought of thetime, incomprehensible to the wilder spirits by whom he was surrounded.Llewelyn answered the brief objection by a flood of rude eloquence, andHowel 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 usback from the cry of our country in her need. Envious eyes are castalready by the rapacious English upon these fair lands of thine, whichthese years of peace have given thee opportunity to enrich and beautify.Let the king once hear that we have rebelled, and his nobles will claimthy lands, thy life, thy liberty, and thou must either yield all inignominious flight or take up arm
s to defend thyself and thine own. Itrow that no son of Res Vychan will stand calmly by to see himself thusdespoiled; and if thou must fight, fight now, forestall the foe, andcome out sword in hand at thy country's call, and let us fight shoulderto shoulder and hand to hand, as our forefathers have done before us.Thou knowest somewhat of English rule, now that thou hast lived beneathit these past years. Say, wilt thou still keep thy neck beneath theyoke, or wilt thou do battle like a warrior for liberty andindependence? By our act thou art lost -- yet not even that thought canhold 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? Formethinks whatever else betided thou wouldst not raise thy hand againstthy countrymen, even if thy feudal lord should demand it of thee."
"Never!" cried Wendot fiercely, and his quick mind revolved thesituation 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 wasimpossible; the second was fraught with a keen joy and secret sense ofexultation. It was true what Howel said: he would be held responsiblefor his brothers' revolt. The English harpies would make every endeavourto poison the king's mind, so that they might wrest from him hisinheritance. He would be required to take up arms against his brothers,and his refusal to do so would be his death warrant. Disgrace and ruinlay before him should he abide by such a course. The other promised atleast glory and renown, and perhaps a soldier's death, or, better still,the independence of his country -- the final throwing off of thetyrant's yoke.
His heart swelled within him; his eyes shone with a strange fire. Onlyone thought checked the immediate utterance of his decision, and thatwas the vision of a pair of dark soft eyes, and a child's face in whichsomething of dawning womanhood was visible, smiling upon him in completeand loving trust.
Yes, Wendot had not forgotten Gertrude; but time had done its work, andthe image of the fair face was somewhat dim and hazy. He yet wore abouthis neck the half of the gold coin she had given him; but if hesometimes sighed as he looked upon it, it was a sigh without much realbitterness or regret. He had a tender spot in his memory for the littlemaid he had saved at the risk of his own life, but it amounted to littlemore than a pleasant memory. He had no doubt that she had long ago beenwedded to some English noble, whose estates outshone those of Dynevor inher father's eyes.
During the first years after his return home he had wondered somewhatwhether the earl and his daughter would find their way again to the richvalley of the Towy; but the years passed by and they came not, and thebrief dream of Wendot's dawning youth soon ceased to have any real holdupon him. If her father had had any thoughts of mating her with the Lordof Dynevor, he would have taken steps for bringing the young peopletogether.
The last doubt fled as Wendot thought this over; and whilst his brothersyet spoke, pointing to the rich stretch of country that lay before theireyes in all the glory of its autumn dress, and asking if that were notan inheritance worthy to be fought for, Wendot suddenly held out hishand, and said in clear, ringing tones:
"Brothers, I go with you. I too will give my life and my all for theliberty of our land. The Lord of Dynevor shall not be slack to respondto his country's call. Methinks indeed the hour has come. I will followour kinsman whithersoever he shall bid."
Llewelyn and Howel grasped the outstretched hand, and from within thecastle walls there burst forth the strains of wild melody from the harpof old Wenwynwyn. It seemed almost as though he must have heard thewords that bound Wendot to the national cause, so exultant andtriumphant were the strains which awoke beneath his hands.
It was but a few days later that the four brothers rode forth frombeneath the arched gateway of Dynevor, all armed to the teeth, and witha goodly following of armed attendants. Wendot and Griffeth paused at ashort distance from the castle to look back, whilst a rush of strangeand unwonted emotion brought the tears to Griffeth's eyes which hetrusted none saw beside.
There stood the grand old castle, his home from childhood -- the placearound which all the associations of a lifetime gathered. It was to himthe ideal of all that was beautiful and strong and even holy -- themassive walls of the fortress rising grandly from the rocky platform,with the dark background of trees now burning with the rich hues ofautumn. The fair valley stretched before their eyes, every winding ofwhich was familiar to them, as was also every individual tree or crag orstretch of moorland fell as far as eye could see. The very heart stringsof Wendot and Griffeth seemed bound round these homelike and familiarthings; and there was something strangely wistful in the glances thrownaround him by the young Lord of Dynevor as he reined in his horse, andmotioning to the armed followers to pass him, stood with Griffeth for afew brief moments alone and silent, whilst the cavalcade was lost tosight in the windings of the road.
"Is it a last farewell?" murmured the younger of the brothers beneathhis breath. "Shall I ever see this fair scene again?"
And Wendot answered not, for he had no words in which to do so. He hadbeen fully occupied all these last days -- too much occupied to have hadtime for regretful thought; but Griffeth had been visiting every hauntof his boyhood with strange feelings of impending trouble, and his cheekwas pale with the stress of his emotion, and his voice was husky withthe intensity of the strain he was putting upon himself.
"Griffeth, Griffeth!" cried Wendot suddenly, "have I done wrong in thisthing? I asked not thy gentle counsel, yet thou didst not bid me holdback. 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 brothershave undone thee, and that even wert thou not willing to take up armsagainst 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 showhimself strong in defence of his country's rights.
"Yet my heart is heavy as I look around me. For we are going forth todanger and death, and who knows what may betide ere we see these fairlands again, or whether we may ever return to see them more?"
Wendot would fain have replied with cheerful assurance, but a strangerush of emotion came over him as he gazed at his childhood's home,together with a sudden strong presentiment that there was somethingprophetic in his brother's words. He gazed upon the gray battlements andthe brawling river with a passionate ardour in his glance, and thenturning quickly upon Griffeth, he said:
"Brother, why shouldst thou leave it? thou art more fit for the safeshelter of home than for the strife of a winter war. Why shouldst thoucome forth with us? Let us leave thee here in safety --"
"Wendot!"
It was but one word, but the volume of reproach compressed into itbrought Wendot to a sudden stop. They looked into each other's eyes amoment, and then Griffeth said, with his sweet, meaning smile:
"We have never been separated yet, my Wendot; in sorrow and joy we haveever been together. It is too late to change all that now. I will be bythy side to the end. Be it for life or for death we will ride forthtogether."
And so with one hard hand clasp that spoke volumes, and with one morelong, lingering look at the familiar towers of the old home, Wendot andGriffeth, the Lords of Dynevor, rode forth to meet their fate at thehands of the mighty English king.
Of that sudden, fierce, and partially successful revolt the historybooks of the age give account. Llewelyn and his brother David, joined bythe whole strength of the North, and by much able assistance from theSouth, drove back the English across the border; and when Edward,hurrying to the spot, marched against them, his army was utterly routednear the Menai Straits, and the triumphant Welsh believed for a fewbrief months that they were victors indeed, and that the power of thefoe was hopelessly broken.
Llewelyn with his army retired to the fastnesses of Snowdon, where theEnglish durst not pursue them, and these less hardy soldiers suffered soterribly in the winter cold that the morta
lity in their ranks caused thetriumphant mountaineers to prophesy that their work would be done forthem without any more exertion on their part.
But the lion-hearted King of England was not of the stuff that easilysubmits to defeat. He knew well that Wales was in his power, and that hehad but to exercise patience and resolution, and the final victory wouldbe his.
Permitting no relaxation of his efforts in the North, even when thewinter's bitter cold was causing untold sufferings amongst his soldiers,he commenced a muster of troops in the South, from which country most ofthe disaffected nobles had drawn away to join the insurgents under thePrince of Wales, as Llewelyn was called. It was a shock of no smallmagnitude to that prince to hear that his foe was thus employinghimself; and leaving the fastnesses of Snowdon with a picked band of hishardiest men, amongst whom he numbered Llewelyn and Howel, he marchedsouthward himself, hoping to overthrow this new force before it hadgathered power sufficient to be dangerous.
Wendot would gladly have been of the number, for inaction, and the rudebarbarism he saw around him, were inexpressibly galling to him; and themore he saw of the savage spirits by whom he was surrounded the less hewas able to hope for any permanent advantage as the result of thisrising. The jealousies of the respective chiefs were hardly held incheck even in the face of a common peril. It was impossible not toforesee that the termination of a war with England would only be thesignal for an outbreak of innumerable petty animosities and hostile feuds.
So Wendot would have been thankful to escape from this irksomeinactivity, and to join the band going south; but the condition ofGriffeth withheld him, for the youth was very ill, and he often feltthat this winter of hardship up in the mountain air was killing him byinches, although he never complained.
It was out of the question for Griffeth to march or to fight. He laymost of the day beside a little fire of peat, in a cabin that Wendot andhis men had constructed with their own hands, beneath the shelter of arock which broke the force of the north wind, and formed some protectionagainst the deep snow. Griffeth had borne his share gallantly in theearlier part of the campaign, but a slight wound had laid him aside; andsince the intense cold had come, he had only grown more white and wastedand 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, Wendotbegan to hope the worst was over; but to leave his brother in such astate was out of the question, and he saw Llewelyn and Howel departwithout attempting to join them.
Days and weeks had passed, and no news had been received by those up inthe mountains of the result of Llewelyn's expedition. It was reported byscouts that Edward was at Carnarvon Castle in person, making hostiledemonstrations of a determined kind, which, in the absence of theirchief, the wild Welsh kerns knew not how to repel. They were safe wherethey were, and awaited the return of their leader; but a terrible strokehad yet to fall upon them, which proved the final blow to all theirhopes and ambitions.
It was a wild, windy night. Wendot had piled the fire high, and wassitting with Griffeth talking of past days, and gazing with anunconscious wistfulness into the glowing embers, which seemed to him totake the semblance of those familiar towers and rocks which he sometimesfelt as though he should never see again. Griffeth paused in the midstof something he was saying, and looked round with a start. It seemed toboth brothers as though a hand was fumbling at the latch. Wendot roseand opened the door, and a tall, gaunt figure staggered rather thanwalked into the room, and sank down as if perfectly exhausted beside theglowing fire.
Griffeth uttered a startled exclamation.
"Llewelyn!" he cried sharply; and Wendot, barring the door, and comingforward like one in a dream, asked with the calmness of one who readsdire disaster:
"Where is Howel?"
"Dead," came the answer in a hollow voice, as though the speaker wasexhausted past words -- "dead by the side of Llewelyn our prince. Wouldthat I too lay beside them!"
Wendot, too stunned to say another word at that moment, busied himselfin getting his brother food and wine, of which he plainly stood sorelyin need. He ate ravenously and in perfect silence; and his brotherswatched him without having the heart to put another question. Indeedthey knew the worst: their prince dead; the flower of their army slain-- their own brother among the number -- the rest dispersed; theremaining forces without a leader, without a rallying point, without ahope. What need of farther words?
Presently Llewelyn spoke again, this time with more strength, but stillwith the sullenness of despair:
"It was a mere skirmish on the banks of the Wye. We were in advance ofthe main body, and a party of English fell upon us. We did our best tosell our lives dearly. I thought I had sold mine when my time came, butI 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 roundhim. I do not think the foe knew whom they had slain, or they would havetaken at least his head away as a trophy. I know not who took the newsto our comrades, but they learned it, and dispersed to the four winds. Iwas forced to remain for some days in a shepherd's hut till my woundswere somewhat healed, and since then I have been struggling back here,not knowing what had befallen our camp in these mountains. Am I thefirst to bear the, news, or has it been known before?"
"You are the first," answered Wendot in a strange, blank voice. "We haveheard nothing; we have been living in hopes of some triumph, somevictory. 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 isdead, our last prince lies in a nameless grave. There is but one choiceopen to us now. Let those who will submit themselves to the proudusurper, and let us, who cannot so demean the name we bear, go forthsword in hand, and die fighting to the last for the country we may notlive 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 Wyebecome known than the army began to melt away, like the snow in theincreasing power of the sun. The chiefs, without a head, without a causeor a champion, either retired to their own wild solitudes or hastened tomake their peace with their offended king; and only those who put honourbefore safety or life itself stood forth sword in hand to die, if itmight be, with face to foe in defence of a cause which they knew washopelessly lost.
And amongst this gallant but reckless little band were the threebrothers 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 uponeach heart.
The Lord of Dynevor: A Tale of the Times of Edward the First Page 9