“So be it,” said Ina.  “Oswald shall go, and it seems to me that every day is precious, so that he shall go at once.  Is there thought that Owen may be taken out of the country, as Oswald was taken?”

“Every port and every fisher is watched, and has been so.  For that was the first thing we feared.  And word has gone to Howel of Dyfed and Mordred of Morganwg, farther up the channel, that they should watch their shores also.  Nought has been left undone that may be done.”

So it came to pass that on the next morning Jago and I rode away together along the great road that leads westward to Exeter and beyond, asking each train of chapmen whom we met if there was yet news, and hearing nought but sorrow for the loss of the prince they had hailed with such joy again.  Nor did we draw rein, save to change horses, till we clattered up the ancient paved street of the city on its hill, and dismounted at the gates of the white palace where Gerent waited me.

There the first man who came out to greet me was one whom I was altogether glad to see, though his presence astonished me for a moment.  Howel of Dyfed passed from the great door and bade me welcome.

“It is a different meeting from that which we had planned, Thane,” he said, somewhat sadly.  “I am here to help you if I can; for when we heard that Owen was lost much as you were, we came over straightway, there being reasons of her own which would not let Nona rest till we had sailed.  Presently you will hear them from herself, for she is here.  Glad am I to see you.”

“There is no fresh hope?” I asked, as we went in.

“None; but we hope much from you.  At least, your coming will cheer the old king, for he is well-nigh despairing.”

Now I was prepared to see some change in Gerent by reason of all this sorrow and trouble, but not for all that was plain when I first set eyes on him presently.  Old and shrunken he seemed, and his voice was weary and dull.  Yet there came a new light into his eyes as he saw me, and he greeted me most kindly, bidding me, after a few words of welcome, to rest and eat awhile after the long ride, before we spoke together of troubles.

So in a little time I sought him again, and found him in a room with warm sunlight streaming into it, making the strange pictured walls bright and cheerful, and yet somewhat over close for one who loves the open air or the free timbered roof that loses itself in the smoke wreaths overhead, with the wind blowing through it as it blows through the forest whence it was wrought, and with twitter of birds to mind one of that also.  Nevertheless, the old king in his purple mantle with its golden hem over the white linen tunic, and his little golden circlet on his curling white hair, seemed in place there, even as I minded thinking that Owen in his British array seemed in place.

Now Howel stood where Owen was wont to stand, and the only other in the room was the lady, who rose from the king’s side to greet me.