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

“Boy,” he said, with an impatience that boded ill for the success of the cause, “I verily believe wert thou in the place of king, thou wouldst give to every rebel chief his lands again, and be not contented until thine own throne came tottering about thine ears.  Mercy must temper justice, but if it take the place of justice it becomes mere weakness.  I trusted Wendot ap Res Vychan once, and laid no hand upon his lands.  Thou hast seen how this trust has been rewarded.  To reinstate him now would be 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 be disregarded.  Dynevor will pass away from Wendot.  It is throwing words away 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 press the matter no more.  He knew that when Edward thus spoke his word was final and irrevocable; and all he ventured now to ask was, “What will become of Wendot and his brother?  You will not take their lives, sweet sire?”

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