They carried him, bound hand and foot, into the hall, and threw him upon the fire that still burned brightly. After a little while, they took him off the fire, and hacked off his head with a chopper that was used for jointing meat.

Dewi Sant

"O holy David, our bishop, take away our sadness."

David strode along the winding road: his feet were bare, his head was bare and tonsured, and one garment, of coarse felt, but snowy white, was his only bodily covering. The sun beat down upon him; the sky, of a deep, throbbing blue, held few clouds, and they silvery and sweetly-curved as the breast-feathers of a dove; on his left, the sea dazzled; before and about him, small columns of dust twirled mischievously. David's eyes, dark and bright, feasted untiringly upon the life and growth around him, and he sang as he went.

He turned him about, and looked back upon the whitewashed walls of Mynyw, his darling among his many foundations. To the little company of religious who followed his steps, he cried:

"I do think that of all the lands in all the world the fairest is our land of Cymru. And of all the parts of Cymru, look you, the fairest and the sweetest is this Dyfed."

Aidan, Teilo, Ismail, and some few more clustered round him. Said they all together:

"Indeed, indeed, blessed, holy father, blessed is our Dyfed!" and many were the looks of affection they cast upon their little abbot.

"I have been in the Holy Country," said David. "That is the very marvel of the world—a jewel set in the desert; but hard and bright, dear me! there is unplayful it is! I can never give thanks enough, children, that I am permitted to dwell here where I was born."

So saying, he resumed his journey. They had left the monks' cultivated domain behind them, and were now in the shade of a broad lane between willows and hazels, where the mallows and the bellflowers grew rankly. Of a sudden, the lane came to an end, and they emerged upon the little promontory below Porth Mawr. Carn Llidi loomed above them, on their right hand, and at its foot rose Ty Gwyn, the deserted college of Patrick, with its grave-stones round about it. In the western distance, far away, appeared a green fairy land, with the hazy forms of mountains melting into the skyline.

"Let us pray for our brethren of Ireland," said David, "of the Second Order of Saints."

About an hour later, David was still some few paces at the head of his people, and repeating to himself, hands folded, the prayers for the third hour after noon, when he felt his shoulder seized in a brawny grip, and he was forcibly twisted round until he faced a sturdy individual, with a broad, smiling red face, sandy hair, and twinkling green-grey eyes, and fully equipped with the war-sword, flowing robe, and shoes of dressed leather which only a nobleman might wear. Near him were his retinue of horsemen, one of whom held the steed from which his lord had just dismounted.

"David, little cousin," was his greeting, "whither so fast, I pray thee, with thy chin to the ground? Have you mission to punish wrong-doers, O very powerful saint?"

"Why, kinsman Cadfan," David replied, "sweet is the sight of you to the eyes. It is seldom we meet now. But I am not abroad to deal with evildoers, look you. Dyfed, thanks be to God! is a very peaceful place; the religion of Christ reigns even in the farthest nooks. I have enough to do, kinsman, to order mine own house and the brethren and disciples over whom I rule. The bishops hold synod at Brefi, and I must be there with the rest; though little doing, say I, follows much talking."

"Hast indeed won all this land by thy words and wonders?" cried Cadfan, who, though he had great affection for David, could never, in his presence, master an uncontrollable desire to tease him. "Look that they deceive thee not, the pigs of Dyfed! and pay not double tithes to their Druids, and turn to them first at birth and at death! What did I hear of thee and of a monstrous old stone? Some tale spread by women…."

"Dost thou doubt the power of God?" exclaimed David, with flashing eyes. Then, as he caught sight of his interlocutor's face, he could not help smiling. "Cadfan, they would not give up the old stone of Cetti—slew beast and fowl upon it, to obtain prosperity, or for blessing or cursing, and slept beneath its shade that dreams might visit them! Then, on a day, when a great crowd was there assembled, I prayed, and took a sword in my hand, and climbed upon the old abomination, to the very top; and I smote with my sword in the face of all the people, and lo! the stone split in twain with a hideous scream. Oh, joyful was my heart for that God had deigned to heed my supplication! And so was the unbelieving remnant drawn into the Church's fold."

"Well done, well done!" said his jovial kinsman.

"And the Gwyddel chieftains? Are they forbearing towards thee?"

"Boia is dead. Leschi came out of Ireland and slew him and all his in one night; and Leschi is for holy Church. But it was pity for Boia. He suffered us gladly, and I think would have hearkened to the word ere long. A brave soul! I say mass for him often, as Cattwg does for worthy Virgil. But the wicked shrew, his wife! she urged him with all her might against us; and when we would take no notice of her handmaidens whom she sent to bathe in the stream that runs before our very doors, one day she lured Dunawd her step-daughter to an ancient altar in a forsaken spot, and sacrificed her to the Siddi, her underground gods. First shore off the little one's hair,[6] and then slit her throat! A sweet innocent child! who would come to our church door, to peep and to listen, and then flee shyly away. Alas! alas! a grievous happening!"

"And wilt thou spend all thy days in lonely Dyfed, little holy one? I did hear of thee at Afallach,[7] where Joseph's thorn grows. Didst thou not bestow there some very rich treasure? Would that not be a kingly centre for thee to dwell in?"

"At Afallach left I the sapphire altar which I brought from Caer Salem. Afallach will be great and famous, I doubt not; but, Mary be aiding! I will live and die yonder in Glyn Rhosyn, nursery of the dearest of my sons. Lonely we are, yes. We control no state policy, for Britain is the dominion of the Saxons; but Cymru shall render us thanks in days to come: we shall have great power of prayer."

"O cousin, it is marvel to me that thou canst thus go barefoot in the dust, and hang rough texture of the taeogion[8] about thee, and drink nought but tasteless water. I am but an ordinary man, and I would not