“I had heard of the death of a prince, and do not know the rights thereof.”

“Why, where have you been?  That is old news.  It was only Dewi, and he is no loss.  The Saxon sheriff hung him, even as the king said he would do to him an he caught him, so maybe it is the same in the end.  I have not heard that any one is sorry to lose him.”

He laughed, and if it was plain that Morgan’s brother was not loved, it was also plain that nought was known of the end of the other prince yet.  We were first with the tidings here, and that might be as well.

Now a message came to bid us enter, and the steward who brought it told us that we were to be lodged in some great guest chamber, and that we should speak with the king shortly.

The men bided outside the walls, the captain leading them to a long row of timber-built stables which stood close at hand by the gate.  Presently, when the horses were bestowed, they would be brought to the guest hall; so Thorgils went with them, while the steward led Owen and myself through the gate and to the palace, which stood squarely in the midst of the fortress, with a space between it and the other buildings which filled the area.

By daylight I knew afterwards that it was uncared for, and somewhat dilapidated without, but in the falling dusk it looked all that it should.  We entered through a wide door, and passed a guardroom where many men lounged, armed and unarmed, and then were in a courtyard formed by the four sides of the building, wonderfully paved, and with a frozen fountain in its midst.  There were windows all round the walls which bounded this court, and the light shone red from them, very cheerfully, and already there was bustle of men who crossed and passed through the palace making ready for our reception.  The steward led us to the northern wing of the house across this court, and so took us into an antechamber, as it seemed, warm and bright, with hanging lamps, and with painted walls and many-patterned tiled floor, but for all its warmth with no fire to be seen, which was strange enough to me.

And so soon as the bright light shone on Owen I saw the steward start and gaze at him fixedly, and then as Owen smiled a little at him he fell on his knees and cried softly some words of welcome, with tears starting in his eyes.

“Oh my Lord,” he said, “is it indeed you?  This is a good day.—­A thousand welcomes!”

Owen raised him kindly, and set his finger on his lip.

“It is well that you have been the first to know me, friend,” he said.  “Now hold your peace for a little while till we see what says my uncle.  I must have word with him at once, if it can be managed, before others know me.  It will be best.”

“He waits you, Lord.  It was his word that he would see the Saxon alone.”

Then he led us into another room like to that we left, but larger, and with rich carpets on the tiled floor, and there sat Gerent alone to wait us.  I thought him a wonderful looking old man, and most kingly, as he rose and bowed in return when we greeted him.  His hair was white, and his long beard even whiter, but his eyes were bright.  Purple and gold he wore, and those robes and the golden circlet on his head shewed that he had put on the kingly dress to meet with the messenger of a king.