“Speak, Wenwynwyn, speak!” cried the twins in a breath.  “Has he returned thither?”

“Ay, my sons; he has come back in person to receive his ‘dues,’ and to look into all that has passed in his absence.  These eyes have seen the false, smiling face of the usurper, who sits in the halls which have rung to the sound of yon harp in days when the accursed foot of the stranger would have been driven with blows from the door.  He is there, and —­”

“And they hate and despise and contemn him,” cried Llewelyn in wild excitement.  “Every man of Iscennen is his foe.  Do not I know it?  Have we not proved it?  There is no one but will rise at the sound of my trumpet, to follow me to victory or death.

“Wenwynwyn, speak! thou hast bid us wait till the hour has come till all things be ripe for action.  Tell us, has not that hour come?  Hast thou not come to bid us draw the sword, and wrest our rightful inheritance from the hand of the spoiler and alien?”

“Ay, verily, that hour has come,” cried the old bard, with a wild gesture.  “The spoiler is there, lurking in his den.  His eyes are roving round in hungry greed to spoil the poor man of his goods, to wrest the weapon from the strong.  He is fearful in the midst of his state —­ fearful of those he calls his vassals —­ those he would crush with his iron glove, and wring dry even as a sponge is wrung.  Ay, the hour is come.  The loyal patriots have looked upon your faces, my sons, and see in you their liberators.  Go now, when the traitor whose life you saved is gloating over his spoil in his castle walls.  Go and show him what it is to rob the young lions of their prey; show him what it is to strive with eagles, when only the blood of the painted jay runs in his craven veins.  Saw I not fear, distrust, and hatred in every line of that smooth face?  Think you that he is happy in the possession of what he sold his soul to gain?  Go, and the victory will be yours.  Go; all Iscennen will be with you.  Wenwynwyn has not sung his songs in vain amongst those hardy people!  He has prepared the way.  Go! victory lies before you.”

The boys’ hearts swelled within them at these words.  It was not for nothing that they, with their own faithful followers, sworn to secrecy, had absented themselves again and again from Dynevor Castle on the pretence of long hunting expeditions.  It was true that they had hunted game, that they had brought home abundance of spoil with them; but little had Llewelyn or Howel to do with the taking of that prey.  They had been at Iscennen; they had travelled the familiar tracks once again, and had found nothing but the most enthusiastic welcome from their own people, the greatest hatred for the foreign lordling, who had been foisted upon them by edict of the king.

Truly Raoul Latimer had won but a barren triumph in gaining for himself the lands of Iscennen.  A very short residence there had proved enough for him, and he had withdrawn, in fear that if he did not do so some fatal mischance would befall him.  He had reigned there as an absentee ever since, not less cursed and hated for the oppressive measures taken in his name than when he had been the active agent.