“I built it with my own hands, my son,” he said.  “I cannot tell how long ago that was, for time is nought to me, but it was many years.  Once I wore arms and had another name, but that also I care not to recall.”

Then there came footsteps from above us, and looking up I saw a man in a rough fisher’s dress coming in haste down the long flight of rock-hewn steps that led from the cliff top down the cleft to the door that I had found last night, and soon we heard him calling to the hermit.

Govan left me, and went through the cell to speak with him, but was back very shortly.

“Howel the prince is coming hither,” he said.  “The man you saw has seen him on the way, and came to warn me to be at hand for him.  It is well for you, my son, as I am sure.”

So we went together into the house, and I thought to arm myself, but Govan smiled and asked me not to do so, saying that hither even Howel would come without his weapons, in all likelihood.

I understood him, and did but see that my sword was in reach before I sat down and waited for the coming of the Welsh prince, and I thought that all I need ask him was for help to reach Tenby, whither Thorgils must have gone.  It was quite likely that Evan might have raised the country against me in hopes of taking me again.  And maybe I would ask for justice on the said Evan.  Also I wanted to hear what had happened after my going.

It was not long that I had to wait.  There came the tramp of horses at the top of the gorge, and the sound of a voice or two, and then the tread of an armed man came slowly down the stair, and Govan went to meet him.  I rose and waited for his entry.

Now there came in, following Govan, unhelmed as he had greeted the holy man, a handsome, middle-aged warrior, black haired and eyed and active looking.  He wore the short heavy sword of the Roman pattern, gold hilted and scabbarded, at his side, and the helm he carried had a high plumed crest and hanging side pieces that seemed like those pictured on the walls of Gerent’s palace.  He had no body armour on, and his dress was plain enough, of white woollen stuff with broad crimson borders, but round his neck was a wonderful twisted collar of gold, and heavy golden bracelets rang as his arms moved.  I saw that his first glance went to me, and that his face changed when he saw that I was not one of his own people, but a foreigner, as he would hold me.  I saw too that he noted my arms as they hung on the wall behind me.

Govan saw it also, and made haste to tell him who I was.

“This is one who should be welcome to you, Prince, for the sake of old days, for he has come by mischance from Dyvnaint, being foster son of one of the princes of Gerent’s court, though a Saxon by birth.  Nevertheless he speaks our tongue well.  He will tell you all that presently, and I think that he needs your help.”

“I thought you one of our troublesome neighbours, the Danes,” he said, with a smile now in place of the look of doubt.  “But if you are from Dyvnaint there are many things that you can tell me.  But I have come here to see that all is well with Father Govan, for there is talk of a mad Norseman who is roving the country, unless the cold has ended him in the night.  It is good to see that nought is wrong here.”