“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” he panted fiercely; “ay, that indeed I am.  Sorry that I did not wring her neck as the fowler wrings the neck of the bird his shaft hath brought down; sorry I did not cast her headlong down the steep precipice, that there might be one less of the hated race contaminating 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 have set proud Edward’s forces in battle array against us.  I would that this tampering with traitors were at an end, and that we warriors of South Wales might stand shoulder to shoulder, firmly banded against the foreign foe.  I would plunge a dagger in the false heart of yon proud Englishman as he lies sleeping in his bed tonight, if by doing so I could set light to the smouldering flame of national hatred.

“What sayest thou?  Can we do nought to bring upon us an open war, which is a thousand times better than this treacherous, hollow peace?  Our father and mother are half won over to the cause of slavery.  They —­”

Llewelyn paused, choking back the fierce tide of passion which went far to unman him.  He had not forgotten the humiliation placed upon him so recently, when his father had compelled him to sue for pardon to an English maiden.  His heart was burning, his soul was stirred to its depths.  He had to stop short lest his passion should carry him away.

Howel seemed to understand him without the medium of words.  The links which bound the twin brothers together were very subtle and very strong.  If Llewelyn were the more violent and headstrong, Howel was more than his 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 force upon our father a step which shall make a rupture with the English inevitable.  Thou wouldst do a thing which should bring upon us the wrath of the mighty Edward, and force both ourselves and our neighbours to take arms against him.  Is not that so?”

“Ay, truly; and could such a thing be, gladly would I lay down my life in 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 that the maid will remain here beneath our mother’s charge for a while, whilst our father goes forward as far as the Abbey of Strata Florida with yon stranger, to guide him on his way?  The maid will remain here until 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 the care of the child for a while.  Our mother delights in the charge of a little maid, and thus it will be as I have said.”