sheaths; but famine marches each hour to gride and to slay. Instead
of sure death from the hunger, take sure life from the foe. Free
pardon to all, chiefs and people, and safe return to their homes,--
save Gryffyth alone. Let him come forth, not as victim and outlaw,
not with bent form and clasped hands, but as chief meeting chief, with
his household of state. Harold will meet him, in honour, at the gates
of the fort. Let Gryffyth submit to King Edward, and ride with Harold
to the Court of the Basileus. Harold promises him life, and will
plead for his pardon. And though the peace of this realm, and the
fortune of war, forbid Harold to say, 'Thou shalt yet be a king;' yet
thy crown, son of Llewellyn, shall at least be assured in the line of
thy fathers, and the race of Cadwallader shall still reign in Cymry."

The monk paused, and hope and joy were in the faces of the famished
chiefs; while two of the Traitor Three suddenly left their post, and
sped to tell the message to the spearmen and multitudes above.
Modred, the third conspirator, laid his hand on his hilt, and stole
near to see the face of the King;--the face of the King was dark and
angry, as a midnight of storm.

Then, raising the cross on high, Evan resumed.

"And I, though of the people of Gwentland, which the arms of Gryffyth
have wasted, and whose prince fell beneath Gryffyth's sword on the
hearth of his hall--I, as God's servant, the brother of all I behold,
and, as son of the soil, mourning over the slaughter of its latest
defenders--I, by this symbol of love and command, which I raise to the
heaven, adjure thee, O King, to give ear to the mission of peace,--to
cast down the grim pride of earth. And instead of the crown of a day,
fix thy hopes on the crown everlasting. For much shall be pardoned to