"He waits you, Lord. It was his word that he would see the Saxon
alone."

Then he led us into another room like to that we left, but larger,
and with rich carpets on the tiled floor, and there sat Gerent
alone to wait us. I thought him a wonderful looking old man, and
most kingly, as he rose and bowed in return when we greeted him.
His hair was white, and his long beard even whiter, but his eyes
were bright. Purple and gold he wore, and those robes and the
golden circlet on his head shewed that he had put on the kingly
dress to meet with the messenger of a king.

Almost had Owen sprung toward him, but he forbore, and when the
king had taken his seat he went slowly to him, holding out a letter
which Ina had written for him, saying nothing. And Gerent took it
without a word or so much as a glance at the bearer from under his
heavy brows, and opened it.

Owen stood back by me, and we watched the face of the king as he
read. We saw his brows knit themselves fiercely at first, and then
as he went on they cleared until he seemed as calm as when he first
met us. But the flush that had come with the frown had not faded
when at last he looked keenly at us.

"Come nearer," he said in a harsh voice, speaking in fair Saxon.
"Know you what is written herein?"

"I know it," Owen said.