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They had given me a long Welsh cloak of crimson, fur bordered, and a cap to wear with it instead of my helm. And of course I had not on my mail, though Ina's sword was at my side, and Gerent's bracelet on my arm, setting off a strange medley of black-and-blue bruises and red chafed places from the cords, moreover.
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.
How good it was to gird the sword on me again, and to feel the cold rim of the good helm round my hot forehead! I was myself again, and as I slipped Gerent's gold ring on my arm I thought that it was almost worth the bondage to know what pleasure can be in the winning of freedom.
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.
So the treachery of his brother must be known, and he was to be held here as a hostage, as one might say. Gerent's next words told me that it was so. "If there is any fault to be found, it is in the ways of your brother. Blame him that I must needs have surety for his behaviour. It cannot be suffered that he should go on plotting evil against us, unchecked in some way."
"Tell me about Dyvnaint also, for when I was a boy I was long at Gerent's court. Did not Govan say that you were fostered by one of the princes? It is likely that I knew your foster father well, if so; was he Morgan?" "Not Morgan, but Owen," I answered, and at that Howel almost started to his feet. "Owen!" he cried. "Does he yet live?
And even as we talked with this party, another man rode in from the Tone fenlands, and he had seen the march of the West Welsh men, and knew that Gerent's force was halted at Norton. A swift and sudden gathering, and a swift march that was worthy of a good leader, else had we heard thereof before this.
"News indeed, that," said I. "What more?" "If you Saxons will stand by us, your kin, it may be worth your while. Here have I ridden to tell you so." Then I hurried him to the king, for this was a matter worth hearing. Watchet was on Gerent's left flank, and a force there was a gain to us indeed, if only by staying the force at Norton for a day longer.
"Here is a strange affair, my Prince," one of them said, as he held out his hand to help Owen up the earthworks. The group stood aside for us to look on what they had found, and that was a man, fully armed in the Welsh way of Gerent's guards, but slain by the well-aimed blow of a strong seax that was yet left where it had been driven home above the corselet.
"He is a prize for whoever took him. Gerent sent word to several of those princes, and his men are somewhere in the country yet, I suppose. They came at Gerent's invitation." I went back to Ina, who had set the chief aside for the moment, and when some other man's captives had passed, bound to a long cord, my men brought him forward again.
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