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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER X. CARNARVON CASTLE.

  "There has been a battle -- desperate fighting. They are bringing theprisoners into the guardroom," cried Britton, bursting into the royalapartments with small ceremony in his excitement. "Come, Alphonso; come,Joanna -- let us go and see them. Our fellows say they made a gallantstand, and fought like veritable tigers. In sooth, I would I had beenthere. Methinks it is the last of the fighting these parts will see formany a long year."

  Alphonso sprang up at the word of his comrade, eager to go and see theprisoners, his humane and kindly nature prompting him to ascertain thatno undue harshness was displayed towards them by the rude soldiers. ButJoanna, although her face was full of interest and eagerness, shook herhead with a little grimace and a glance in the direction of hergoverness, Lady Edeline; for during the years that had elapsed betweenthe visit of the royal children to Rhuddlan and this present visit toCarnarvon, Joanna had grown from a child to a woman, and was no longerable to run about with her brothers at will, though she still retainedher old fearless, independent spirit and impulsive generosity oftemperament, and was a universal favourite, despite the fact that shegave more trouble than any of her younger sisters.

  The royal family had been for some time in Wales. They had wintered atRhuddlan, where the little Princess Elizabeth had been born the previousyear, just prior to the outbreak of the rebellion. Now they were atCarnarvon for greater security, the king considering that fortress thestronger of the two. The rebellion was practically at an end, but therewas much to look into and arrange with regard to the rebels and theiraffairs, and there was the prospect of a considerable sojourn at the castle.

  At this moment Edward was himself absent, though not far away. It hadbeen rumoured that there had been sharp, irregular fighting all aboutthe region of Snowdon, where the rebels had had their headquarters.Considerable excitement had prevailed for some time in the Englishranks, and there was still complete uncertainty as to the fate ofLlewelyn, Prince of Wales; for although a rumour was rife that he hadfallen in fight, it had never been corroborated by trustworthytestimony, and so long as that turbulent prince remained alive there wasno security for the peace or submission of the country.

  Thus it was that the news of a victory and the capture of prisoners wasexceedingly exciting to those within the castle. Alphonso, who waslooking somewhat stronger for his sojourn in the bracing air of Wales,sprang up to go with Britton to make inspection, and again Joannasecretly bewailed her fate at being a girl, unable to take an equalshare with her brother in such matters.

  The guardroom at the castle was a vast and really fine apartment, with avaulted roof and majestic pillars, that gave the idea of much rudestrength of construction. Just at this moment it was the scene of ananimated picture, and the boys paused at the door by which they hadentered to look about them with eager curiosity.

  The hall was full of soldiers, most of whom wore the English king'sbadge, and were known by sight to them as being attached to the castle;but mingled with these were other men, some in the English dress, butmany others wearing the wild garb of the sons of the mountains, andthese last had, for the most part, fetters on their wrists, or werebound two and two together and guarded by the English, whilst many ofthem were drooping under the effect of ghastly wounds, and several formslay stretched along the ground indifferent to, or insensible of, theirsurroundings.

  Desperate fighting there had been, indeed, to judge from appearances,and Alphonso's gentle spirit was stirred within him as he caught thesound of deep groans mingling with the loud voices of the soldiers. Hehad inherited the gentle spirit of his mother, and the generosity whichalways takes the part of the weak and oppressed. It mattered not thatthese men had been taken with swords drawn against his royal father;they were prisoners now, they had lost their all; and if rebels from theEnglish standpoint, had been striving to free their country from whatappeared to them as the unjust inroads of a foreign foe.

  Alphonso, himself sinking into an early grave, and fully aware of hisown state, saw life somewhat differently from his soldier sire, and feltlittle sympathy for that lust of conquest which was to the great Edwardas the elixir of life. The lad's thoughts were more of that eternalcrown laid up in the bright land where the sword comes not, and wherethe trump of war may never be heard. The glory of an earthly diadem wasas nothing to him, and he had all that deep love for his fellow menwhich often characterizes those who know that their time on earth is short.

  Stepping forward, therefore, with the air of quiet authority which heknew so well how to assume, he enforced silence by a gesture; and as thesoldiers respectfully fell back before him, he walked through the groupsof prisoners, speaking friendly words to them in their own tongue, andfinally gave strict command to the captain of the guardroom to removethe fetters from those who were wounded, and see that they had all duetendance and care, whilst the rest were to be guarded with as littlerigour as possible, and shut up together, where they would have at leastthe consolation of companionship in their misfortune.

  The captain gave respectful heed to these words, and was by no meansloath to carry out his instructions. He was a humane man himself, thoughinured to the horrors of war, and he, in common with all who came intocontact with the young prince, felt towards him a great love andreverence; for there was something unearthly at times in the radiantbeauty of the young Alphonso's face, and the growing conviction that hewas not long for this world increased the loving loyalty shown to him byall.

  "Your Grace's behests shall be obeyed," answered the man readily; "Imyself will see that the wounded receive due and fitting care. They arebrave fellows, be they rebels or no, and verily I believe there is not aman of them but would have laid down his life a hundred times to savethat of the two young leaders who led them on to the last desperatesally. Such gallant feats of arms I have seldom beheld, and it was soretrouble to capture without killing them, so fiercely did they fight. ButI bid the men take them alive, if possible, as they seemed too gallantand noble to fall in that vain struggle. Methinks, could they be tamedto serve the king as valiantly as they fought for that forlorn hope,they might be well worth the saving. I am always loath to see a bravelife flung away, be it of friend or foe."

  "Right, good Poleyn; thy words do thee credit. And where are thesegallant leaders? Show me them, for I would fain speak a kindly word tothem. I would not that they feared my father's wrath too much. Stern hemay be, but cruel never, and it would please me well to bid them submitthemselves to him, that he might the more readily forgive them. Tell mewhich they be."

  "They are not here," answered the captain; "I had them removed forgreater comfort and security to mine own lodging. One of them is so sorewounded that I feared he would not live to make submission to the kingunless he had prompt and skilful tendance; whilst the other, althoughhis hurts be fewer and less severe, looks as if some mortal sicknesswere upon him. It may be nought but the feebleness that follows loss ofblood and hard fighting; but I left them both to the care of my wife,who is the best tender of the sick that I have ever known. They cameunder her hands last night, brought on by our mounted fellows in advanceof the rest. Today they are somewhat recovered; but I have had scarcetime to think of them. I have been occupied since dawn with these otherprisoners."

  "I would fain see these youths; said you not they were but youths,Poleyn?" said Alphonso, whose interest was aroused by the tale he hadheard. "I will go to your lodging and request admittance. Your worthywife will not refuse me, I trow?"

  The man smiled, and said that his wife would be proud indeed to be sovisited. Alphonso, to whom the intricacies of the castle were wellknown, lost no time in finding the lodging of the captain of the guard,and quickly obtained admittance to the presence of the wounded youths,who occupied a comfortable chamber over the gateway, and had plainlybeen well looked to by the capable and kindly woman who called Poleynher lord and master.

  The bright light of day was excluded from the sickroom, and as theprince stood in the doorway his eyes only took in
the general appearanceof two recumbent figures, one lying upon a couch beside a glowing fireof wood, and the other extended motionless upon a bed in an attitudethat bespoke slumber, his face bandaged in such a way that in no casewould it have been recognizable.

  But as Alphonso's eyes grew used to the darkness, and fixed themselvesupon the face of the other youth, who was dressed and lying on thecouch, he suddenly gave a great start, and advanced with quick steps tohis side.

  "Griffeth!" he cried suddenly.

  The figure on the couch gave a start, a pair of hollow eyes flashedopen, there was a quick attempt to rise, checked by the prince himself,and Griffeth exclaimed in the utmost astonishment:

  "Prince Alphonso!"

  "Yes, Griffeth, it is I indeed;" and then the prince sat down on theedge of the couch and gazed intently at the wasted features of theyouth, towards whom in days gone by he had felt such a strong attachment.

  There was something of sorrow and reproach in his glance as he said gently:

  "Griffeth, can it really be thou? I had not thought to have seen thee inthe ranks of our foes, fighting desperately against my father'ssoldiers. Whence has come this bitter change in thy feelings? and whatis Wendot doing, who was to act as guardian toward his younger brethren?Hast thou broken away from his controlling hand? O Griffeth, I grieve tosee thee here and in such plight."

  But Griffeth's sad glance met that of the young prince unfalteringly andwithout shame, although there was something in it of deep and settledsorrow. He made a gesture as though he would have put out his hand, andAlphonso, who saw it, grasped it warmly, generous even when he felt thathe and his father had been somewhat wronged.

  "Think not that we took up arms willingly, Wendot and I," he saidfaintly, yet with clearness and decision. "Ay, it is Wendot who liesthere, sore wounded, and sleeping soundly after a night of fever andpain. We shall not disturb him, he is fast in dreamland; and if youwould listen to my tale, gentle prince, I trow you would think somethingless hardly of us, who have lost our all, and have failed to win thesoldier's death that we went forth to seek, knowing that it alone couldmake atonement for what must seem to your royal father an act oftreachery and breach of faith."

  And then Griffeth told all his tale -- told of the wrongs inflicted onhapless Wales in Edward's absence by the rapacious nobles he had leftbehind him to preserve order, of the ever-increasing discontent amongstthe people, the wild hope, infused by David's sudden rising, of unitingonce and for all to throw off the foreign yoke and become an independentnation again. He told of the action taken by their twin brothers, of thepressure brought to bear upon Wendot, of the vigilant hostility of theirrapacious kinsman Res ap Meredith, son of the old foe Meredith ap Res,now an English knight, and eager to lay his hands upon the broad landsof Dynevor. It was made plain to the prince how desperate would havebeen Wendot's condition, thus beset with foes and held responsible forhis brothers' acts. Almost against his will had he been persuaded, andat least he had played the man in his country's hour of need, instead oftrying to steer his way by a cold neutrality, which would have ruinedhim with friend and foe alike.

  Griffeth told of the hardships of that campaign amongst the mountains;of the death of Llewelyn the prince, and of his brother Howel; and ofthe resolve of the gallant little band, thus bereft of their hope, to goout and die sword in hand, and so end the miserable struggle that hadceased to be aught but a mockery of war. It was plainly a bitter thoughteven to the gentle Griffeth that they had not met the death they craved,but had fallen alive into the hands of the foe.

  Alphonso gently chid him, and comforted him with brave and kindly words;and then he asked what had befallen his brother Llewelyn, and if he hadlikewise fallen in the fight.

  "Nay; he was not with us when we made that last rally. He commenced themarch with us, but his wound broke out again, and we were forced toleave him behind. He and a handful of faithful servants from Iscennenand Dynevor were to try and push on to the stronghold of Einon apCadwalader, and ask counsel and assistance from him. In old days he andour father were friends. Although he was one of the few who did not joinLlewelyn in this rising, he has ever been well-disposed towards hiscountrymen. So we hoped our brother would find shelter and help there.If he had tried to march with us, he must assuredly have died."

  "Ha!" said Alphonso smilingly, "methinks Llewelyn will have no troublein gaining entrance there. Rememberest thou the Lady Arthyn, who waswith us at Rhuddlan when thou wast there before? She hath left us oflate to return to her father, whose loyalty has been proved, and whoserequest for his child was listened to graciously. But we shall be seeingthem soon again, for my father betrothed Arthyn's hand to Raoul Latimer,whom doubtless thou rememberest as a somewhat haughty and quarrelsomelad. Time has softened down some of his rude tempers, and he has everbeen eager for the match. My father has promised her hand in trothplight to him, and we await the coming of her and her father for theceremony of betrothal.

  "If I remember rightly, she was always a friend to thy brother. If so,he will find a ready welcome at her father's house, for my Lady Arthynalways had a soft spot in her heart for those we called rebels. She wasa true daughter of Wales, albeit she loved us well, and she will likethy brother none the less that his sword has been unsheathed against theEnglish usurper."

  And then the prince and the rebel subject both laughed, and that laughdid more to bring them back to their old familiar relations than allthat had gone before.

  Griffeth was easily led on to tell the story of the life at Dynevorthese past years; and Alphonso better understood from his unconsciousself-betrayal than from his previous explanation how the fire ofpatriotic love burned in the hearts of these brothers. He thought thathad he been one of them he would have acted even as they had done, andthere was no anger but only a pitying affection in his heart towards onewhose life was overshadowed by a cloud so like the one which hung uponthe horizon of his own sky.

  For it was plain to him that Griffeth's hold on life was very slight;that he was suffering from the same insidious disease which was sappingaway his own health and strength. He had suspected it years before, andthis supposition had made a link between them then; now he was certainof it, and certain, too, that the end could not be very far off. Thefine constitution of the young Welshman had been undermined by therigours of the past winter, and there was little hope that the comingsummer would restore to him any of the fictitious strength which hadlong buoyed up Wendot with the hope that his brother would yet live togrow to man's estate.

  "For myself I do not think I wish it," said Griffeth, with one of hisluminous glances at Alphonso; "life is very hard, and there seemsnothing left to live for. I know not how I could live away from thewoods and rocks of Dynevor. But there is Wendot -- my dear, kind, mostloving brother. It cuts me to the heart to think of leaving him alone.Prince Alphonso, you are the king's son; will you pardon Wendot histrespass, and stand his friend with your royal father? I have no rightto ask it. We have grievously offended, but he is my brother --"

  A violent fit of coughing came on, and the sentence was never completed.Alphonso raised the wasted form in his arms, and soothed the painfulparoxysm as one who knows just what will best relieve the sufferer. Thesound roused Wendot, who had been sleeping for many hours, and althoughhe had been brought in last night in an apparently almost dying state,his vigorous constitution was such that even these few hours' quietrest, and the nourishment administered to him by the good woman whowaited on him, had infused new life into his frame, so that he hadstrength to sit up in bed, and to push aside the bandage which hadfallen over his eyes, as he anxiously asked his brother what was amiss.

  Then Alphonso came towards him, and, holding his hand in a friendlyclasp, told him that he had heard all the story, and that he was stilltheir friend, and would plead for them with his father. Wendot,bewildered and astonished and ashamed, could scarce believe his senses,and asked, with a proud independence which raised a smile in Alphonso'seyes, that he might be led out to speedy death -- the deat
h by theheadsman's axe, which was all he had now to hope for. Life had no longerany charms for him, he said; if only his young brother might bepardoned, he himself would gladly pay the forfeit for both.

  But Alphonso, upon whose generous spirit bravery and self devotion, evenin a foe, were never thrown away, replied kindly that he would see ifpeace could not be made with his offended sire, and that meantime Wendotmust get well fast, and regain his health and strength, so as to be fitto appear before the king in person if he should be presently summoned.

  But though the young prince left lighter hearts behind him in the roomwhere the two eagles of Dynevor were imprisoned, he found that the taskhe had set himself with his father was a more difficult one than he hadanticipated. Edward was very greatly incensed by this fierce and futilerebellion that had cost him so many hundreds of brave lives, and hadinflicted such sufferings on his loyal troops. The disaster at Menaistill rankled in his breast, and it was with a very stern brow and aface of resolute determination that he returned to Carnarvon to lookinto matters, and to settle upon the fate of the many prisoners andvassals who had once mere placed themselves or their lands in his solepower through the act which had rendered them forfeit.

  Nor was Alphonso's task rendered less difficult from the fact that SirRes ap Meredith had been before him, poisoning the king's mind againstmany of the Welsh nobles, and particularly against the sons of ResVychan, in whose possession were the province and castle of Dynevor.Upon that fair territory he had long cast covetous eyes. He cared littlein comparison for the more barren and turbulent region of Iscennen, andit was upon Wendot and Griffeth, but particularly upon Wendot, that thefull bitterness of his invective was poured. He had so imbued the kingwith the idea that the youth was dangerous, turbulent, and treacherous(charges that his conduct certainly seemed to bear out), that it wassmall wonder if Edward, remembering his own former goodwill towards theyouth, should feel greatly incensed against him. And although helistened to Alphonso's pleadings, and the lad told his story with muchsimple eloquence and fervour, the stern lines of his brow did not relax,and his lips set themselves into an ominous curve which the prince likedlittle to see.

  "Boy," he said, with an impatience that boded ill for the success of thecause, "I verily believe wert thou in the place of king, thou wouldstgive to every rebel chief his lands again, and be not contented untilthine own throne came tottering about thine ears. Mercy must temperjustice, but if it take the place of justice it becomes mere weakness. Itrusted Wendot ap Res Vychan once, and laid no hand upon his lands. Thouhast seen how this trust has been rewarded. To reinstate him now wouldbe madness. No. I have in Sir Res ap Meredith a loyal and true servant,and his claims upon his traitorous kinsman's lands may not bedisregarded. Dynevor will pass away from Wendot. It is throwing wordsaway to plead with me. My mind is made up. I trust not a traitor twice."

  There was something in his father's tone that warned Alphonso to pressthe matter no more. He knew that when Edward thus spoke his word wasfinal and irrevocable; and all he ventured now to ask was, "What willbecome of Wendot and his brother? You will not take their lives, sweetsire?"

  "Their lives I give to thee, my son," answered Edward, with a gesturetowards his boy which betrayed a deep love, and showed that although hehad denied him sternly he did not do so willingly. "As thou hast pleadedfor them, I will not sentence them to death; but they remain myprisoners, and regain not their liberty. I know the turbulent race fromwhich they spring. Sir Res will have small peace in his new possessionsif any of the former princes of Dynevor are at large in the country.Wendot and Griffeth remain my prisoners."

  "Nay, father; let them be my prisoners, I pray," cried Alphonso, withunwonted energy and animation. "Thou hast granted me their lives; grantme the keeping of their persons too. Nay, think not that I will conniveat their escape. Give whatsoever charge thou wilt concerning the safetyof their persons to those who guard us in our daily life, but let mehave them as gentlemen of mine own. Call them prisoners an you will, butlet their imprisonment be light -- let me enjoy their company. Thouknowest that Britton is fretting for a freer life, and that I see littleof him now. I have often longed for a companion to share my solitaryhours. Give me Griffeth and Wendot. They have the royal blood of Walesflowing in their veins, and methinks they love me even as I love them.And, father, Griffeth has not many months, methinks, to live; and I knowso well all he suffers that my heart goes out to him. He has the love ofbooks that I have, and we have so many thoughts which none seem tounderstand save our two selves. And he and Wendot are as one. It wouldbe cruelty such as thou wouldst not inflict to separate them whilst onehas so short a time to live. Give me them for mine own attendants, andbid the servants guard them as best pleaseth thee. Sweet father, I havenot asked many boons of thee. Grant me this one, I pray thee, for myheart is verily set on it."

  There was something in this appeal, something in the look uponAlphonso's face, something in the very words he had used, that made itimpossible to his father to refuse him. Blind his eyes as he would tothe truth, he was haunted by a terrible fear that the life of his onlyson was surely slipping away. Alphonso did not often speak of hishealth, and the hint just dropped struck chill upon the father's heart.Passing his hand across his face to conceal the sudden spasm of painthat contracted it, he rose hastily from his chair, and said:

  "Give thine own orders concerning these youths. I leave them in thyhands. Make of them what it pleaseth thee. Only let them understand thatcharge will be given to the custodians of the castle, and of whateverplace they visit in the future, that they are prisoners at the king'spleasure, and that any attempt at escape will be punished with instantand rigorous captivity."

  "So be it," answered Alphonso, with brightening eyes. "I thank thee,father, for the boon. Thou shalt never have cause to repent it."