and Saxon, though the former broke ground to pursue them, they gained
the steeps of Penmaen.

There was no further thought of slumber that night within the walls.
While the wounded were tended, and the dead were cleared from the
soil, Harold, with three of his chiefs, and Mallet de Graville, whose
feats rendered it more than ungracious to refuse his request that he
might assist in the council, conferred upon the means of terminating
the war with the next day. Two of the thegns, their blood hot with
strife and revenge, proposed to scale the mountain with the whole
force the reinforcements had brought them, and put all they found to
the sword.

The third, old and prudent, and inured to Welch warfare, thought
otherwise.

"None of us," said he, "know what is the true strength of the place
which ye propose to storm. Not even one Welchman have we found who
hath ever himself gained the summit, or examined the castle which is
said to exist there." [162]

"Said!" echoed De Graville, who, relieved of his mail, and with his
wounds bandaged, reclined on his furs on the floor. "Said, noble sir!
Cannot our eyes perceive the towers?"

The old thegn shook his head. "At a distance, and through mists,
stones loom large, and crags themselves take strange shapes. It may
be castle, may be rock, may be old roofless temples of heathenesse
that we see. But to repeat (and, as I am slow, I pray not again to be
put out in my speech)--none of us know what, there, exists of defence,