side of his host, the new-comer feasted upon broiled mutton-chops, which were carried in from without, for during the summer weather Gwrtheyrn's food was cooked in a kitchen in an outhouse. The King's hall was crowded, but the company presented few elements of interest to the man of Dyfed. The Jutish Queen sat upon Gwrtheyrn's other hand, counting the stitches in her needlework; she had a broad face, a square full chin, and heavy auburn plaits. There were a few old women, her attendants; the huntsmen, servants, and men-at-arms; some rustic noblemen, talkative and disputatious; and some half-dozen of the King's pages or foster-sons, who squabbled in whispers over noughts and crosses chalked upon the empty hearth-stone.

"Lord," said Mogneid, "there come others to claim hospitality of thee ere nightfall, I do think. As I looked back upon the eastern valley, I beheld a party of horsemen, clad in steel armour, such as the Romans wear."

"Art clever, kinsman," Gwrtheyrn replied. "It is Emrys, to a certainty! or emissaries of his! Well that we are warned. They shall be warmly received, I promise!"

"Whence comes Ambrosius?" Mogneid asked. "As I travelled hither, I heard of him at Caerdydd."

"Look you, cousin," said Gwrtheyrn, "Ambrosius and I have some contention toward, concerning my lordship of Buallt, of which this overweening person claims the right to dispose, forsooth!—One cup more, kinsman Mogneid; it is of the Kentish vintage. Now when these Romanizers——"

"They are here," said Mogneid.

In truth, the clatter of horses' hooves resounded outside the building, and the voices of men. Twenty mail-clad soldiers entered the hall, with a keen-faced leader at their head.

"Greeting, King Gwrtheyrn," the officer cried, "from Ambrosius the Imperator!"

"Greeting!" returned Gwrtheyrn shortly. "What would the Lord Emrys say to us by your lips?"

"Thus says Aurelius Ambrosius to you, O Gwrtheyrn King of Erging: The renowned and mighty lord Ambrosius himself is now at Buallt, whither he is come to bestow the lordship of those lands—which are his as much as thine by hereditary right, be it said—upon the valiant prince Pascent thy son, for fitting appanage and livelihood. And he charges thee, O Gwrtheyrn, to attend him straightway, upon the morrow, to witness the installation of thy said son in all due form and order."

"Fore God!" Gwrtheyrn roared, "this is passing insolence! Hence to thy master, sir, and tell him that Gwrtheyrn permits not that another force from him what is his own! Or if it be too late now to make the return journey, why, there are my villeins' cow-houses at your service for the night. Ye shall have a guard set over you while ye are sleeping. Out of our presence, instantly, by blessed Paul!"

"So be it," said the soldier. "We will back to the lord of Britain."

While they were departing, the Queen and her women rose and withdrew. The foster-children went out into the twilit courtyard to play; the servants, after removing the dishes and the victuals, one by one left the room. Mogneid drew his seat closer to that of Gwrtheyrn.

"Ticklish fellows, these mongrel Romans," he observed.

The King was drinking deeply; the veins of his forehead still throbbed with rage and shame. By and by he put down his cup, and began to talk, with much gesticulation.

"Romans! Romans! Romans! Curse them all, high and low, up and down!… Ambrosius their tyrant, to the lousiest beggar's brat—and——What good are they to the clans of Britain?—with their fine habits and their sickly vices? What good to me was my wife Severa, Maxen's daughter? Ye see what sons she brought me—Gwrthefyr, and Cyndeyrn, and Pascent—cleave to Ambrosius, and forsake their own father! Here, in the west, are men mightier and taller and braver than all their enfeebled town-dwellers. Good fighting Goidels…."

"All men do know as much," said the other. "For my part, I would that my kinsmen were the chief men of the land."

"God!" panted Gwrtheyrn. "What is gone is gone—for ever." He looked upon his companion with a watery eye. "Thou art verily welcome, good Mogneid. A man is always glad to gossip with one of his own blood, especially after long time of dreariness. Few guests knock at my castle-gate—we are out of the run of life nowadays, alas! alas!"

The monotony and the squalor were all too evident.

"It were surely unjust," said Mogneid, in soothing tones, "that Buallt should be taken from thee."

"And shall I suffer it? I have my favourite hunting-lodge in that lordship. They are my lands—my lands! It pleases me to dwell there!" Gwrtheyrn shouted with maudlin vehemence.

"What is your purpose, O King?"

"Well, that—I know not. But he shall not have my lands! Look you, kinsman, it is near the harvest-time: I think my men will not come willingly to arms."

"Then speak Ambrosius fair, biding thy time. Go not to Buallt, if thou like not the indignity; and when the harvest is over, levy thy forces and win back thine own. Is there difficulty in this?"

"All the priests are ever on the old fox's side. A man cannot well struggle if he have holy Church against him. These are evil days indeed. They meddle in everything, these rascally adze-heads.[4] Now in the days of old, we could worship whom we would, aye, and how we would. Prosperous days!… There were the sacred fires at the spring and at the fall—those were things of power; they made the earth yield bravely and plenteously. I remember I have run through the bonfires, myself, many a time, when I was a child. And the magic of the wise ones—I swear each spell was worth ten blessings of a priest!"

"The King speaks soothly. In Dyfed there are many who do think as we, and who will scarcely permit the new-fangled faith to show its head. It is not too late, O King, to throw off the yoke of the Romanizers. Ye are all the world yet to your own people; they hate to see you idle and dispossessed. There are many men of my country eager to rise at your bidding: I know their minds."

"Cousin, this is a cheerful saying! Thy coming has filled me with hope."

"Know then that the ancient wisdom is mine, perfectly: from my childhood was I trained up in it by the last survivors of the venerable sacred order. Listen, then, my lord, that should be King of all the kings of Britain, to the words of the high gods that they have spoken unto Mogneid! Thus and thus, O Gwrtheyrn, foretold the entrails of the slave-boy accepted of Ceridwen…."

"Lord King," said Eliseg the chief huntsman, "it is not meet, nor is it wise, to talk of intimate matters with the scavenger of the by-ways. In other words, master, there is an old crafty bird, called cuckoo, who stealeth the nests of others that his own offspring may grow and flourish. Few have seen the cuckoo, but there are some that have had sight of him. The cuckoo is perfectly familiar to me."

"Aye, so," said Dyfnwal the King's chamberlain.

"By Hu the Mighty! speak plainly, Eliseg, or else hold thy tongue, thou naughty rogue!" cried Gwrtheyrn; but he smiled upon his trusty servant.

"Lord, I think ye cannot know what ye are about. The cuckoo of my simile, look you, he is the new-come guest, the lord from Dyfed, from whom the King has no secrets. This is not the first time this man has crossed my way. In Dyfed I was born, and there my wife's parents do still dwell. O King, this is Mogneid the Druid, of very evil fame!"

"The devil take thee for a lying slanderer! Mogneid is near of kin to me, within the nine degrees. He is a worthy prince, and fit to company me in all my undertakings. Well, and if he be learned in the ancient wise things—what can we show to-day to compare with the might of our forefathers?"

"By my dogs and my horns and my leashes! King Gwrtheyrn," said Eliseg, "we seek not