Pabo, the Priest: A Novel

by S. Baring-Gould

  CHAPTER XX

  THE BRACELET OF MAXEN

  "Look at me," said Nest; "I am the daughter of Rhys and sister of yourPrince Griffith. How I have been treated God knows, but not worse thanmy dear country. I have been cast into the arms of one of itsoppressors, and I welcome it, because I can do something thereby forthose of my people who suffer. Griffith is about. He will do greatthings. I sent him with warning to you. And now I will even yet saveyou. Know you where you are? Whither I have brought you? Come further."She led him down among the smooth shoulders of rock, and showed him pansscooped in the limestone ledges that brimmed with water.

  There was no well in Careg Cennen. It would not have availed to havesunk one. In the dry limestone there were no springs. Gerald the Normanwould not have reared his castle on this barren head of rock had he notknown that water was accessible in this natural cave.

  But this cavern had been known and utilized long before the Normanadventurers burst into Wales. At some remote age, we know not how manycenturies or tens of centuries before, some warfaring people hadsurrounded the top of the hill with a wall of stones, not set in mortar,but sustained in place by their own weight. And to supply themselveswith water, they had cut a path like a thread in the face of theprecipice to the mouth of a gaping cavern that could be seen only fromthe slopes of the Black Mountains, on the further side of the CennenRiver.

  In this vault water incessantly dripped, not in rapid showers, butslowly; in wet weather more rapidly than at times of dryness, yet evenin the most burning, rainless seasons, there never was an absolutecessation of falling drops. To receive these, bowls had been scooped outin ledges of rock; and hither came the maidens daily with theirpitchers, to supply the wants of all in the castle. What the Normanbuilders had done was to broaden the path by cutting deeper into theface of the cliff, and to build up the face towards the precipice,leaving loopholes at intervals, to prevent accidents such as mighthappen through vertigo, or a turn of an ankle, or a slip on the polishedlime-rock. The whole mouth of the cavern had also been walled up, sothat no one unacquainted with the arrangements within the castle wouldhave suspected its existence.

  To fill the pitchers the water-carriers were furnished with woodenspoons and shallow ladles, with which they scooped up the liquid fromthe rock-basins into their vessels.

  Hither Nest, the wife of Gerald of Windsor, had brought Pabo. She hadlearned what was the doom of the Archpriest so soon as the interview wasover between him, the bishop, and her husband. Nest was a subtle woman.Lovely beyond any other woman in Britain, and with that exquisitewinsomeness of manner which only a Celtic woman possesses, which a Saxoncan ape but not acquire, she was able when she exerted her powers tocajole Gerald, and obtain from him much that his judgment warned him heshould not yield. For a long time she had induced him even to harbor herbrother Griffith, but he did so only so long as the young man was not inopen revolt against King Henry.

  She had not on this occasion attempted to induce Gerald to mitigate thesentence on Pabo. She reserved her cajolery for another occasion. Now,she had recourse to other means. With a little cleverness, she hadsucceeded in securing the key of the dungeon; but for her own goodreasons she did not desire that her husband should learn, or evensuspect, that she had contrived the escape of the prisoner.

  Now Pabo stood by her in the great natural domed vault in the bowels ofthe mountain, crowned by Careg Cennen Castle; and by the flicker of thelamp he saw her face, and wondered at its beauty.

  "Pabo, priest of God!" she said, and her face worked with emotion."Heaven alone knows what a life I lead--a double life, a life behind amask. I have a poor, weak, trembling woman's heart, that bleeds andsuffers for my people. I have but one love--one only love, that fillsand flames in all my veins: it is the love of Wales, of my country, mybeautiful, my sovereign country. And, O God! my people. Touch them, andI quiver and am tortured, and durst not cry out. Yet am I linked to onewho is my husband, and I belong to him in body. Yet hath he not myimmortal soul, he hath not this passionate heart. Nay! Not one singledrop of the burning Welsh blood that dances and boils in every artery."She clasped her hands to her heart. "Oh, Pabo, my lot is in sadquarters! My life is one continuous martyrdom for my country, for mypeople, for their laws, their freedom, their Church! What can I do? Lookat these women's fingers! What gifts have I? Only this fair face andthis golden hair, and a little mother wit. I give all to the good cause.And now," she became more calm in tone, and she put forth her hand andclasped the priest by the wrist, and spake in measured tones, though herfinger-ends worked nervously. "And now--learn this. For reasons that Icannot speak plainly, I would not have my husband know that I havecontrived thy escape. And I cannot contrive to pass thee out through thegates. There is but one way that thou canst be freed. See--the womencome hither to draw water, and the door creaks on its hinges whensoeveropened. When thou hearest the door cry out, then hide thee under thestair, or yonder in the depth of the cave. None of the wenches penetratefurther than these basins. But after they have left--and they come butin the morning and at eve--then thou hast this place to thyself. Knowthat there is no escape downwards from the eyelet-holes. It is a sheerfall--and if that were adventured, thou wouldst be dashed to pieces, aswas one of the Normandy masons who was engaged on the wall. He lost hisfoothold and fell--and was but a mangled heap at the bottom. No--thatway there is no escape. I have considered well, and this is what I havedevised." She paused and drew a long breath. "There stands a stout andwell-rooted thorn-tree on the crag above. I will tarry till supper-time,when my lord and his men will be merry over their cups, and then will Iswing a bracelet--this." She took off a twisted serpent of gold,quaintly wrought, from her wrist. "This I will attach to a string, and Iwill fasten the other end to the thorn-tree. Then shall the bracelet beswung to and fro, and do thou remain at one of the loopholes, and putforth thine hand and catch the string as it swings. Hold it fast anddraw it in. Then I will attach a knotted rope to the string, and do thoudraw on until thou hast hold of the rope. Thereupon I will make theother end fast to the thorn-tree, and as thou canst not descend, mount,and thou art free."

  Pabo hesitated--then said, "It seems to me that these eyelet-holes aretoo narrow for a man's body to pass through."

  "It is well said," answered Nest, "and of that I have thought. Here is astout dagger. Whilst thou canst, work out the mortar from between thejoints of the masonry about the window-slit yonder. It is very fresh andnot set hard. But remove not the stone till need be."

  "I will do so."

  "And as to the bracelet," continued Nest, "it is precious to me, andmust not be left here to betray what I have done. Bring it away withthee."

  "And when I reach the thorn-tree then I will restore it thee."

  "Nay," rejoined Nest, "take it with thee, and go find my brotherGriffith, wherever he be, and give it to him. Know this: it was takenfrom the cairn of Maxen Wlledig, the Emperor of Britain, whose wife wasa Welsh princess, and whose sons ruled in Britain, and of whose bloodare we. Tell him to return me my bracelet within the walls of Dynevor.Tell him"--her breath came fast and like flame from her lips--"tell himthat I will not wear it till he restore it to me in the castle of ourfather--in the royal halls of our ancestors, the Kings of Dyfed, andhas fed the ravens of Dynevor with English flesh."

  Again she calmed down.

  A strange passionate woman. At one moment flaming into consuming heat,then lulling down to calm and coolness. It was due to the double lifeshe lived; the false face she was constrained to assume, and theundying, inextinguishable patriotic ardor that ate out her heart, thatwas so closely and for so long time smothered, but which must at timesforce itself into manifestation. Pabo, looking into that wondrous face,by the flicker of the little lamp, saw in it a whole story of sorrow,shame, rage, love, and tenderness mapped out.

  A strange and terrible life-story had hers been--even in young days.

  She had been taken from her home while quite a child, and committed as ahostage to the charge of Henry Beauclerk;
he had done her the worstoutrage that could have been offered--when she was helpless, an alienfrom her home and people in his power. Then, without caring whether sheliked the man or not, he had married her to Gerald of Windsor, thespoliator, the ravager of South Wales. Once, Owen ap Cadogan, son ofthe Prince of Cadogan, had seen her at a banquet and eisteddfod given byher father at Aberteiri, to which the kings, princes, and lords of Waleshad been invited. Among all the fair ladies there assembled noneapproached in beauty the young Princess Nest, daughter of King Rhys, andwife of Gerald of Windsor. Owen went mad with love. On the plea ofkinship he visited her in Pembroke Castle, set it on fire, and while itwas blazing carried her away into Powys.

  Nor was she an unwilling victim: she accompanied him, but only becauseshe trusted that he would rouse all Wales and unite North and South inone great revolt against the power of England. And, indeed, at hissummons, like a wild-fire, revolt had spread through Dyfed, Cardigan,and southern Powys. Only North Wales remained unmoved. The struggle wasbrief--the Cymri were poor and deficient in weapons of war, and wereunable to withstand the compact masses hurled against them, in perfectmilitary discipline, and securing every stride by the erection of astronghold. Owen, carrying with him plenty of spoil, fled to Ireland,where he was hospitably received, and Gerald recovered his wife. She wasdisillusioned. Owen sought no nobler end than the amassing of plunderand the execution of vindictive revenge on such as had offended him. Hisferocity had alienated from him the hearts of his people, for his swordhad been turned rather against such of his own kin who had incurred hisresentment than against the common foe.

  Into Cardigan, the realm of Owen's father, Strongbow had penetrated, andhad planted castles.

  Presently, harboring treachery in his heart, Owen returned from Irelandand threw himself into the arms of Henry Beauclerk, who flattered himwith promises and took him in his company to Normandy, where he bestowedon Owen the honor of knighthood, and had converted him into a creatureready to do his pleasure without scruple.

  Pembroke Castle had been rebuilt, Carmarthen was girt with iron-boundtowers; in rear, Strongbow was piling up fortresses at Aberystwyth andDingeraint.

  "See!" said Nest; "poorly hast thou fared hitherto. I have laid in astore of food for thee under the stair. Be ready just before nightfall.Lay hold of the golden bracelet, and retain it till thou encounterestGriffith, then give it him with my message. Let him return it me in ourfather's ruined hall of Dynevor, when it is his own once more."