“Gertrude?  Nay, I know not.  I have not seen her.  I would not have wearied 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 was ready; for when I sought them to ask if they would come, they were nowhere to be found.  As for the maid, I never thought of her.  Where can they have taken her so early?”

A sudden look of anxiety crossed Wendot’s face; but he repressed any exclamation of dismay, and glanced at his mother to see if by any chance she shared his feeling.  But her face was calm and placid, and she said composedly: 

“If she is with Llewelyn and Howel she will be safe.  They have taken her on some expedition in secret, but none will harm her with two such stout protectors 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 of the great hall with a strange shadow upon his face.  Griffeth, who was eagerly 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 him to assure himself that there was no one by to hear, he approached Griffeth with hasty steps and sat down beside him, speaking in a low, rapid way and in English, “Griffeth, tell me, didst thou hear aught last night ere thou fell asleep?”

“Ay, I heard Wenwynwyn singing to his harp in his own chamber, but nought 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 to forbear, yet so wild and strange was the song he sang that at the door I paused 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 dove was borne from safe shelter —­ a young dove in the absence of the father bird; not the mother bird, but the father —­ and carried away to the eagle’s nest by two fierce young eaglets untamed and untamable, there to be left till the kites come down to carry off the prize.

“Ha! thou startest and changest colour!  What is it thou fearest?  Where are Llewelyn and Howell and what have they done with the maid?  What kuowest thou, Griffeth?”

“I know nought,” answered Griffeth, “save that Wenwynwyn has been up to the commot of Llanymddyvri, and thou knowest what all they of that place feel towards the English.  Then Llewelyn and Howel have been talking of late of the eagle’s nest on the crag halfway thither, and if they had named it to Gertrude she would have been wild to go and see it.  We know when Wenwynwyn sings his songs how he ever calls Maelgon ap Caradoc the kite, 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 of our own brothers.”