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The best warriors of Wales had on this occasion joined the standard of Gwenwyn; the arrows of the men of Gwentland, whose skill in archery almost equalled that of the Normans themselves, rattled on the helmets of the men-at-arms; and the spears of the people of Deheubarth, renowned for the sharpness and temper of their steel heads, were employed against the cuirasses not without fatal effect, notwithstanding the protection, which these afforded to the rider.
Then, raising the cross on high, Evan resumed. "And I, though of the people of Gwentland, which the arms of Gryffyth have wasted, and whose prince fell beneath Gryffyth's sword on the hearth of his hall I, as God's servant, the brother of all I behold, and, as son of the soil, mourning over the slaughter of its latest defenders I, by this symbol of love and command, which I raise to the heaven, adjure thee, O King, to give ear to the mission of peace, to cast down the grim pride of earth.
Then, raising the cross on high, Evan resumed. "And I, though of the people of Gwentland, which the arms of Gryffyth have wasted, and whose prince fell beneath Gryffyth's sword on the hearth of his hall I, as God's servant, the brother of all I behold, and, as son of the soil, mourning over the slaughter of its latest defenders I, by this symbol of love and command, which I raise to the heaven, adjure thee, O King, to give ear to the mission of peace, to cast down the grim pride of earth.
And the monk is Evan, the Cymrian, of Gwentland; and the chief, by his voice, seemeth not to be Saxon. And he prays Gryffyth, son of Llewellyn, for the sake of his realm and his people, to grant hearing to his nuncius." A murmur broke from the chiefs a murmur of joy and surprise from all, save the three conspirators, who interchanged anxious and fiery glances.
And the monk is Evan, the Cymrian, of Gwentland; and the chief, by his voice, seemeth not to be Saxon. And he prays Gryffyth, son of Llewellyn, for the sake of his realm and his people, to grant hearing to his nuncius." A murmur broke from the chiefs a murmur of joy and surprise from all, save the three conspirators, who interchanged anxious and fiery glances.
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