The Lord of Dynevor: A Tale of the Times of Edward the First

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER III. THE EAGLE'S CRAG.

  "Where is the maid, mother?"

  "Nay, I know not, my son. I thought she was with thee."

  "I have not seen her anywhere. I have been busy with the men."

  "Where are the other boys?"

  "That I know not either. I have seen none since I rose this morning. Ihave been busy."

  "The maid had risen and dressed herself, and had slipped out betimes,"said the Lady of Dynevor, as she took her place at the board. "Methoughtshe would be with thee. She is a veritable sprite for flitting hitherand thither after thee. Doubtless she is with some of the others. Whoknows where the boys have gone this morning? They are not wont to beabsent at the breakfast hour."

  This last question was addressed to the servants who were at the lowerend of the board, and one of them spoke up in reply. By what he said itappeared that Griffeth had started off early to fly a new falcon of his,and it seemed probable that his brothers and little Lady Gertrude hadaccompanied him; for whilst he had been discussing with the falconer thebest place for making the proposed trial, Llewelyn had been to thestables and had saddled and led out the palfrey upon which their littleguest habitually rode, and there seemed no reason to doubt that all theparty had gone somewhere up upon the highlands to watch the maiden essayof the bird.

  "She would be sure to long to see the trial," said Wendot, attacking theviands before him with a hearty appetite. "She always loves to go withus when there is anything to see or hear. I marvel that she spoke not ofit to me, but perchance it slipped her memory."

  The early risers were late at the meal, but no one was anxious aboutthem. When anything so engrossing as the flying of a young falcon was inthe wind, it was natural that so sublunary a matter as breakfast shouldbe forgotten. The servants had finished their meal, and had left thetable before there was any sign of the return of the wanderers, and thenit was only Griffeth who came bounding in, his face flushed and his eyesshining as he caressed the hooded bird upon his wrist.

  "He is a beauty, Wendot. I would thou hadst been there to see. I tookhim up to --"

  "Ay, tell us all that when thou hast had something to eat," said Wendot."And where is Gertrude? she must be well-nigh famished by this time."

  "Gertrude? Nay, I know not. I have not seen her. I would not havewearied her with such a tramp through the heavy dews."

  "But she had her palfrey; Llewelyn led it away ere it was well light.Were you not all together?"

  "Nay, I was all alone. Llewelyn and Howel were off and away before I wasready; for when I sought them to ask if they would come, they werenowhere to be found. As for the maid, I never thought of her. Where canthey have taken her so early?"

  A sudden look of anxiety crossed Wendot's face; but he repressed anyexclamation of dismay, and glanced at his mother to see if by any chanceshe shared his feeling. But her face was calm and placid, and she saidcomposedly:

  "If she is with Llewelyn and Howel she will be safe. They have taken heron some expedition in secret, but none will harm her with two such stoutprotectors as they."

  And then the lady moved away to commence her round of household duties,which in those days was no sinecure; whilst Wendot stood in the midst ofthe great hall with a strange shadow upon his face. Griffeth, who waseagerly discussing his breakfast, looked wonderingly at him.

  "Brother, what ails thee?" he said at length; "thou seemest ill at ease."

  "I am ill at ease," answered Wendot, and with a quick glance round himto assure himself that there was no one by to hear, he approachedGriffeth with hasty steps and sat down beside him, speaking in a low,rapid way and in English, "Griffeth, tell me, didst thou hear aught lastnight ere thou fell asleep?"

  "Ay, I heard Wenwynwyn singing to his harp in his own chamber, butnought beside."

  "I heard that too," said Wendot, "and for his singing I could not sleep;so when it ceased not, I rose and stole to his room to ask him toforbear, yet so wild and strange was the song he sang that at the door Ipaused to listen; and what thinkest thou was the burden that he sang?"

  "Nay, I know not; tell me."

  "He sang a strange song that I have never heard before, of how a dovewas borne from safe shelter -- a young dove in the absence of the fatherbird; not the mother bird, but the father -- and carried away to theeagle's nest by two fierce young eaglets untamed and untamable, there tobe left till the kites come down to carry off the prize.

  "Ha! thou startest and changest colour! What is it thou fearest? Whereare Llewelyn and Howell and what have they done with the maid? Whatkuowest thou, Griffeth?"

  "I know nought," answered Griffeth, "save that Wenwynwyn has been up tothe commot of Llanymddyvri, and thou knowest what all they of that placefeel towards the English. Then Llewelyn and Howel have been talking oflate of the eagle's nest on the crag halfway thither, and if they hadnamed it to Gertrude she would have been wild to go and see it. We knowwhen Wenwynwyn sings his songs how he ever calls Maelgon ap Caradoc thekite, and the lords of Dynevor the eagles. But, Wendot, it could not be-- a child -- a maid -- and our father's guest. I cannot believe it ofour own brothers."

  "I know not what to think, but my heart misgives me. Thou knowest whatLlewelyn ever was, and Howel is but his shadow. I have mistrusted thisstrange friendship before now, remembering what chanced that first day,and that Llewelyn never forgives or forgets; but I would not havedreamed of such a thing as this. Yet, Griffeth, if the thing is so,there is no time to lose. I am off for the crag this very minute. Thoumust quietly collect and arm a few of our stanchest men, together withthe English servants left here with their young mistress. Let all bedone secretly and quietly, and come after me with all speed. It may bethat we are on a fool's errand, and that our fears are groundless. Buttruly it may be that our brothers are about to betray our guest into thehands of one of England's most bitter foes.

  "Oh, methinks were her father to return, and I had her not safe todeliver back to him, I would not for very shame live to see the day whenI must avow to him what had befallen his child at the hands of my brethren!"

  Griffeth was fully alive to the possible peril menacing the child, andeagerly took his orders from his elder brother. It would not bedifficult to summon some dozen of the armed men on the place toaccompany him quietly and secretly. They would follow upon Wendot'sfleet steps with as little delay as might be, and would at least trackthe fugitive and her guides, whether they succeeded in effecting arescue that day or not.

  Wendot waited for nothing but to give a few directions to his brother.Scarce ten minutes had elapsed from the moment when the firstillumination of mind had come to him respecting some plot against thelife of an innocent child, before he had armed himself, and unleashedtwo of the fleetest, strongest, fiercest of the hounds, and was speedingup across the moor and fell towards the lonely crag of the eagle's nest,which lay halfway between the castle of Dynevor and the abode of Maelgonap Caradoc.

  There was one advantage Wendot possessed over his brothers, and that wasthat he could take the wild-deer tracks which led straight onward andupward, whilst they with their charge would have to keep to the windingmule track, which trebled the distance. The maiden's palfrey was nonetoo clever or surefooted upon these rough hillsides, and their progresswould be but slow.

  Wendot moved as if he had wings to his feet, and although the hot summersun began to beat down upon his head, and his breath came in deep,laboured gasps, he felt neither heat nor fatigue, but pressed as eagerlyonwards and upwards as the strong, fleet hounds at his side.

  He knew he was on the right track; for ever and anon his path wouldcross that which had been trodden by the feet of the boys and the horseearlier in the day, and his own quick eyes and the deep baying of thehounds told him at once whenever this was the case. Upwards and onwards,onwards and upwards, sprang the brave lad with the untiring energy of astrong and righteous purpose. He might be going to danger, he might begoing to his death; for if he came into open collision with the wild andsavage retainers of Maelgon, intent u
pon obtaining their prey, he knewthat they would think little of stabbing him to the heart rather than bebalked. There was no feud so far between Llanymddyvri and Dynevor, butWendot knew that his father was suspected of leaning towards the Englishcause, and that it would take little to provoke some hostiledemonstration on the part of his wild and reckless neighbour. The wholecountry was torn and rent by internecine strife, and there was a chronicstate of semi-warfare kept up between half the nobles of the countryagainst the other half.

  But of personal danger Wendot thought nothing. His own honour and thatof his father were at stake. If the little child left in their care weretreacherously given up to the foes of the English, the boy felt that heshould never lift up his head again. He must save her -- he would. Farrather would he die in her defence than face her father with the storyof the base treachery of his brothers.

  The path grew wilder and steeper; the vegetation became more scant. Theheat of the sun was tempered by the cold of the upper air. It was easierto climb, and the boy felt that his muscles were made of steel.

  Suddenly a new sound struck upon his ear. It was like the whinny of ahorse, only that there was in it a note of distress. Glancing sharplyabout him, Wendot saw Lady Gertrude's small white palfrey standingprecariously on a ledge of rock, and looking pitifully about him, unableto move either up or down. The creature had plainly been turned looseand abandoned, and in trying to find his way home had stranded upon thisledge, and was frightened to move a step. Wendot was fond of allanimals, and could not leave the pretty creature in such a predicament.

  "Besides, Gertrude may want him again for the descent," he said; andalthough every moment was precious, he contrived to get the horse up thesteep bank and on to better ground, and then tethered him on a smallgrassy plateau, where he could feed and take his ease in safety for anhour or two to come.

  That matter accomplished, the lad was up and off again. He had now totrust to the hounds to direct him, for he did not know what track hisbrothers would have taken, and the hard rocks gave no indications whichhe could follow. But the dogs were well used to their work, and withtheir noses to the ground followed the trail unceasingly, indicatingfrom time to time by a deep bay that they were absolutely certain oftheir direction.

  High overhead loomed the apex of the great crag. Wendot knew that he hadnot much farther to go. He was able to distinguish the cairn of stoneswhich he and his brothers had once erected on the top in honour of theirhaving made the ascent in a marvellously short space of time. Wendot hadbeaten that record today, he knew; but his eyes were full of anxietyinstead of triumph. He was scanning every track and every inch ofdistance for traces of the foe he felt certain were somewhere at hand.Had they been here already, and had they carried off the prey? Or werethey only on their way, and had he come in time to thwart their purpose yet?

  Ha! what was that?

  Wendot had reached the shoulder of the mountain; he could see across thevalley -- could see the narrow winding track which led to the strongholdof Maelgon. The Eagle's Crag, as it was called, fell away precipitouslyon the other side. No one could scale it on that face. The path from theupper valley wound round circuitously towards it; and along this path,in the brilliant sunshine, Wendot saw distinctly the approach of a smallband of armed men. Yes: they were approaching, they were not retreating.Then they had not already taken their prey; they were coming to claimit. The boy could have shouted aloud in his triumph and joy; but he heldhis peace, for who could tell what peril might not lie in the way?

  The next moment he had scaled the steep, slippery rock which led to theprecipitous edge of the crag. Not a sign could he see of his brothers orthe child, but the hounds led right on to the very verge of theprecipice, and for a moment the boy's heart stood still. What if theyhad grown afraid of the consequences of their own act, and had resolvedto get rid of the child in a sure and safe fashion!

  For a moment Wendot's blood ran cold. He recalled the traits of fiercecruelty which had sometimes shown themselves in Llewelyn from childhood,his well-known hatred of the English, his outburst of passion withGertrude, so quickly followed by a strange appearance of friendship.Wendot knew his countrymen and his nation's characteristics, and knewthat fierce acts of treachery were often truly charged upon them. Whatif -- But the thought was too repellent to be seriously pursued, andshaking it off by an effort, he raised his voice and called his brothersby name.

  And then, almost as it seemed from beneath his very feet, there came ananswering call; but the voice was not that of his brothers, but the cryof a terrified child.

  "Oh, who are you? Do, please, come to me. I am so frightened. I know Ishall fall. I know I shall be killed. Do come to me quickly. I don'tknow where Llewelyn and Howel have gone."

  "I am coming -- I am Wendot," cried the boy, his heart giving a suddenbound. "You are not hurt, you are safe?"

  "Yes; only so giddy and frightened, and the sun is so hot and burning,and yet it is cold, too. It is such a narrow place, and I cannot get upor down. I can't see the eagle's nest, and they have been such a longtime going after it. They said they would bring the nest and the youngeagles up to me, but they have never come back. I'm afraid they arekilled or hurt. Oh, if you would only help me up, then we would go andlook for them together! Oh, I am so glad that you have come!"

  Wendot could not see the child, though every word she spoke wasdistinctly audible. He certainly could not reach her from the placewhere he now stood; but the hounds had been following the tracks of thequarry they had been scenting all this way, and stood baying at acertain spot some fifty yards away, and a little lower down than theapex of the crag. It was long since Wendot had visited this spot, hisbrothers knew it better than he; but when he got to the place indicatedby the dogs, he saw that there was a little precipitous path along theface of the cliff, which, although very narrow and not a littledangerous, did give foothold to an experienced mountaineer. How thechild had ever had the nerve to tread it he could not imagine, butundoubtedly she was there, and he must get her back, if possible, anddown the mountainside, before those armed men from the upper valleycould reach them.

  But could he do this? He cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder,and saw to his dismay how quickly they were approaching. From theirquickened pace he fancied that his own movements had been observed.Certainly there was not a moment to lose, and leaving the dogs to keepguard at the entrance, he set his foot upon the perilous path andcarefully pursued his way.

  The face of the cliff jutted outwards for some yards, and then made asharp turn round an angle. At the spot where this turn occurred, a sortof natural arch had formed itself over the narrow ledge which formed thepath, and immediately behind the arch there was a small plateau whichgave space to stand and move with some freedom, although a step over theedge would plunge the unwary victim into the deep gulf beneath. Thecliff then fell away once again, but the ledge wound round it still,until it ended in a shallow alcove some eight feet deep, which lay justbeneath the highest part of the crag, which overhung it by many yards.

  And it was crouched up against the cliff in this little alcove thatWendot found Gertrude; cowering, white-faced, against the hard rock,faint from want of food, terrified at the loneliness and at her ownfears for the safety of her companions, and so overwrought by thetension of nerve she had undergone, that when Wendot did stand besideher she could only cling to him sobbing passionately, and it was longbefore he could even induce her to let him go, or to attempt to eat thecontents of a small package he had had the forethought to bring in hiswallet.

  He heard her tale as she sobbed in his arms. They had come here afterthe eagle's nest. Llewelyn and Howel had been so kind! They had notminded her being so slow, but had brought her all the way; and when shewanted to follow them along the ledge to get a better view of the nest,they had blindfolded her that she might not get giddy, and had put arope round her and brought her safely along the narrow ledge till shehad got to this place. But the nest could not be seen even from there,and they had left her to s
ee where it really was. They said they wouldsoon be back, but they had not come, and she had got first anxious andthen terrified about them, and then fearful for her own safety. At lastwhen faintness and giddiness had come upon her, and she could get noanswer to her repeated shouts, her spirit had altogether given way; andunless Wendot had really come to her rescue, she was certain she shouldhave fallen down the precipice. She did not know now how she should everget back along the narrow ridge, she was so frightened and giddy. But ifLlewelyn and Howel would come, perhaps she might.

  Did Wendot know where they were? Would he take care of her now, andbring her safe home?

  "I will if I can," answered the boy, with a strange light in his blueeyes. "Griffeth is on his way with plenty of help. He will be here soon.Do you think you could walk along the ridge now, if I were to hold youup and help you? We should get home sooner if you could."

  But the child shrank back and put her hand before her eyes.

  "Oh, let us wait till Griffeth comes. I am so giddy still, and I am soafraid I should fall. Hark! I'm sure I hear voices. They are comingalready. Oh, I am so glad! I do want to get home. Wendot, why do youlook like that? Why do you get out that thing? You are not going to fight?"

  "Lady Gertrude," said Wendot, speaking in a grave, manly way that atonce riveted the child's attention, "I am afraid that those voices donot belong to our friends, but to a band of men who are coming to tryand take you prisoner to a castle up the valley there. No: do not befrightened; I will save you from them if I can. There is help coming forus, and I think I can hold this path against them for some time to come.You must try and keep up heart and not be frightened. You may see somehard blows struck, but you can shut your eyes and not think about it. Ifthey do kill me and carry you off, do not give up hope, for Griffeth andour own men will be after you to rescue you. Now let me go, and try notto be afraid. I think we can hold them at bay till we are more equallymatched."

  The child's eyes dilated with horror. She caught Wendot by the hand.

  "Give me up," she said firmly. "I will not have you killed for me. Iwould rather go with them. Give me up, I say!"

  "No, Gertrude; I will not give you up," answered Wendot very quietly,but with an inflexibility of tone which made his voice seem like that ofanother person. "Your father placed you in my hands; to him I mustanswer for your safety. What is life to a man without honour? Would youhave me stain my name for the sake of saving my life? I think not thatthat is the English code of honour."

  Child as she was, little Gertrude understood well what was implied inthose words, and a new light flashed into her eyes. Something of thesoldier spirit awoke within her, and she snatched at a small daggerWendot carried in his belt, and drawing her small figure to its fullheight, she said:

  "We will both fight, Wendot; we will both fight, and both die ratherthan let them take us."

  He smiled, and just for a moment laid his hand upon her head; then hedrew on his mailed gloves and looked well to the buckles of the stoutleathern jerkin, almost as impervious to the stabs of his foes as a suitof mail itself. The temper of his weapon he well knew; he had no fearthat it would play him false. He had not the headpiece of mail; he hadstarted in too great a hurry to arm himself completely, and speed wastoo much an object for him to willingly encumber himself needlessly. Butas he skirted the narrow ledge, and placed himself beneath theprotecting arch, he smiled grimly to himself, and thought that the stonewould be as good a guard, and that here was a place where a man couldsell his life dear, and send many a foe to his account before strikinghis own colours.

  Scarcely had he well established himself in the commanding position hehad resolved upon, when the sound of voices became more distinct. Theparty had plainly arrived at the appointed place, and Wendot could hearthem discussing who was best fitted for the task of traversing thedangerous ledge to bring back the captive who was to be found there. Thewild Welsh was unintelligible to Gertrude, or she would have known atonce what dark treachery had been planned and carried out by her trustedcompanions; but Wendot's cheek glowed with shame, and he set his teethhard, resolved to redeem the honour of his father's name to the lastdrop of his blood if he should be called upon to shed it in the cause.

  He heard the slow and cautious steps approaching along the path, and hegripped his weapon more tightly in his hand. The red light of battle wasin his eyes, and the moment he caught sight of the form of the stalwartsoldier threading his perilous way along the path he sprang upon himwith a cry of fury, and hurled him into the gulf beneath.

  Down fell the man, utterly unprepared for such an attack, and his sharpcry of terror was echoed from above by a dozen loud voices.

  Cries and shouts and questions assailed Wendot, but he answered never aword. Those above knew not if it had been an accident, or if an ambushedfoe had hurled their comrade to destruction. Again came a long pause forconsideration -- and every moment wasted was all in favour of the pairupon the ledge -- and then it became plain that some course of actionhad been determined upon, and Wendot heard the cautious approach ofanother foe. This man crept on his way much more cautiously, and theyouth held himself ready for a yet more determined spring. Luckily forhim, he could remain hidden until his opponent was close to him; and sosoon as he was certain from the sound that the man was reaching theangle of the rock, he made another dash, and brought down his sword withall the strength of his arm upon the head of the assailant.

  Once again into the heart of the abyss crashed the body of theunfortunate soldier; but a sharp thrill of pain ran through Wendot'sframe, and a barbed arrow, well aimed at the joint of his leatherjerkin, plunged into his neck and stuck fast.

  The first assailant whom he had disposed of was but one of a close line,following each other in rapid succession. As his face became visible tothe man now foremost a shout of surprise and anger rose up.

  "It is Res Wendot! It is one of the sons of the house of Dynevor!

  "Wendot, thou art mad! We are the friends of thy house. We are here atthe instigation of thine own kindred. Give us the maid, and thou shaltgo free. We would not harm thee."

  "Stir but one step nearer, and I slay thee as I have slain thy twocomrades," cried Wendot, in a voice which all might hear. "I deal not intreachery towards those that trust us. I will answer for the safety ofthe maid with mine own life. Of my hand her father will demand her whenhe comes again. Shall we men of Wales give right cause to the English tocall us murderers, traitors, cowards? Take my life if you will, take ita thousand times over if you will, it is only over my dead body that youwill reach that child."

  "Down with him -- traitor to the cause! He is sold to the English! He isno countryman of ours! Spare him not! He is worthy of death! Down withevery Welshman who bands not with those who would uphold his country'scause!"

  Such were the shouts which rent the air as the meaning of Wendot's wordsmade itself understood. As for the brave lad himself, he had plucked thearrow from his neck, and now stood boldly on guard, resolved to husbandhis strength and keep on the defensive only, hoping thus to gain timeuntil Griffeth and the armed men should arrive.

  He had all the advantage of the position; but his foes were strong men,and came on thick and fast one after another, till it seemed as if thelad might be forced backwards by sheer weight and pressure. But Wendotwas no novice at the use of arms: as his third foe fell upon him withheavy blows of his weighted axe, he stepped backwards a pace, and letthe blows descend harmlessly upon the solid rock of the arch; until theman, disgusted at the non-success of his endeavours to tempt hisadversary out of his defended position, threw away his blunted axe, andwas about to draw his sword for a thrust, when the boy sprang likelightning upon him, and buried his poniard in his heart.

  Over went the man like a log, almost dragging Wendot with him as hefell, and before the youth had had time to recover himself, he hadreceived a deep gash in his sword arm from the foe who pressed on next,and who made a quick dash to try to get possession of the vantage groundof the arch.

  But W
endot staggered back as if with weakness, let his adversary dashthrough the arch after him; and then, hurling himself upon him as hepassed through, pushed him sheer off the ledge on the other side intothe yawning gulf beneath.

  The comrades of this last victim, who had just sent up a shout oftriumph, now changed their note, and it became a yell of rage. Wendotwas back in his old vantage ground, wounded by several arrows, spent byblows, and growing faint from loss of blood, but dauntless and resoluteas ever, determined to sell his life dearly, and hold out as long as hehad breath left in him, sooner than let the helpless child fall into theclutches of these fierce men, goaded now to madness by the oppositionthey had met with.

  Hark! what was that? It was a shout, a hail, and then the familiar callof the Dynevor brothers rang through the still air.

  "La-ha-boo!"

  It was Griffeth's voice. He had come at last. It was plain that the foehad heard, and had paused; for if they were menaced from anotherquarter, it was time to think of their own safety.

  Summoning up all his strength, Wendot sent back an answering hail, andthe next moment there was the sound of fierce voices and the clashing ofweapons overhead on the summit of the cliff; and in quick, urgentaccents Wendot's foes were ordered to retreat, as there was treacherysomewhere, and they had been betrayed.

  Wendot saw his antagonists lower their weapons, and return the way theyhad come, with fearful backward glances, lest their boy foe should befollowing them. But he had no wish to do that. He was spent andexhausted and maimed. He turned backwards towards the safer shelter ofthe little alcove, and sank down beside the trembling child, panting,bleeding, and almost unconscious.