“I know who these will be,” said Howel.  “You will have company in your homeward crossing.  Here is Dunwal of Devon, and his daughter, who have been on pilgrimage to St. Davids, for Christmastide.  They knew that Nona returned at this time, and have come hither on the chance of a passage home in the ship which brought her.  In good time they are, after all.”

Presently I met these folk, and very courteous they were.  Dunwal was a tall, very dark, man, who chose to hold that he was beholden to myself for the passage home, when he heard why I was sailing so soon.  And his daughter was like him in many ways, being perhaps the very darkest damsel I have ever seen, though she was handsome withal.  With them was a priest of the old Western Church, a Cornishman, with his outlandish tonsure.  He was somewhat advanced in years, and strangely wild looking at times, though silent.  He seemed to be Dunwal’s chaplain, or else was a friend who had made the pilgrimage with him.  His name was Morfed, they told me.

I do not think that I should have noted him much, but that when he heard my Saxon name he scowled heavily, and drew away from me; and presently, when it came to pass that Howel told Dunwal the news I had brought, I saw his eyes fixed on me in no friendly way as he listened.  Nor did he join with his friends in the words of gladness for Owen’s return, though indeed I had some thought that theirs might have been warmer.  It was almost as if something was held back by the Devon man and his daughter, though why I should think so I could not tell.  At all events, their way of receiving the news was not like that of Howel and Nona.

By and by, when we came to sit down at table in the largest room of the palace, bright with fair linen, and silver and gold and glass vessels before us, and soft and warm under foot with rugs on the tiled floor which hardly needed them, as I thought, there was a guest I was pleased to see.  Thorgils had ridden from Tenby at the bidding of the princess, as it seemed, and his first words to me were of assurance that all went well for our sailing.  The good ship would be ready for the tide of the morrow night.  Pleased enough also he was with the chance of new passengers, as may be supposed.

I do not think that I have ever sat at a feast whereat so few were present at the high table, and there were no house-carles at all.  Truly, the room was not large enough for what we deem that a king’s board should be, but we seemed almost in private.  There were not more than thirty guests altogether, but it was pleasant for all that.  The princess was on the right of her father, and Mara, the daughter of Dunwal, on his left, but I sat next to Nona, and Dunwal to me again.  On the other side of the prince were some of his own nobles, and across the room sat Thorgils next to the Cornish priest, among Welshmen of some lower rank.  They seemed an ill-assorted pair, but Thorgils was plainly trying to be friendly with every one in reach of him, and soon I forgot him in the pleasantness of all that went on at our table.