Part 17 (1/2)

”Owen!” he cried. ”Does he yet live? Surely we all thought him dead, or else he had come hither to us when he was banished. I loved him well in the old days, and glad I am that you are not Morgan's charge. Tell me all about Owen. Is he home again?”

”Morgan is dead,” I answered, feeling that here I had met with a friend in all certainty. ”And because of that, Owen is in his place again, and I am here. It has all happened in this week, and to tell you of it is to tell you all my trouble.”

Now he was all impatience to hear, and I told him all that needed to be told, until I came to the time when Owen was back at Norton with the old king. Then he asked me some questions about matters there, and in the midst of my answers sprang up.

”Why,” he cried, ”here I have forgotten the girl, and she ought to be hearing all this, instead of sitting in the cold on the cliff.

She is Owen's G.o.ddaughter, moreover, and he was here only a little time before he was banished. She can remember him well.”

”Stay, though,” he said, sitting down again. ”There is your own tale yet. Let us hear it. Maybe that is not altogether so pleasant.”

My own thought was that I was glad I might tell it without the wondering eyes of the fair princess on me, being afraid in a sort of way of having her think of me as the helpless sick man she had pitied. So I hastened to tell all that story.

And when I came to the way in which Evan brought me, Howel's eyes flashed savagely, and a black scowl came over his handsome face, sudden as a thunderstorm in high summer.

”It will be a short shrift and a long rope for that Evan when I catch him,” he said. ”He comes here every year, and I suppose that the goods I have had from him at times have been plunder. I would that you had ended him last night. Now he has got away in peace, and is out of my reach, maybe, by this time. Well, how went it?”

Then I told him the end of the tale, wondering how it was that Thorgils had let him go. I asked the prince if he could explain that for me.

”Not altogether,” he said. ”Evan sent to me to ask me for men to guard the s.h.i.+p presently, after we began the feast, saying that he was going ash.o.r.e with his goods, and was responsible to the s.h.i.+pmaster. I told Thorgils, and he said it was well. So I sent a guard, and presently Evan came and spoke with Thorgils for a little while, and drank a cup of wine, and so went his way. Next morning, before he sailed, Thorgils came and grumbled about the loss of his boat, saying that Evan had taken some sick friend of his ash.o.r.e in her, and that she had not come back. I paid him for it too, because I like the man, and so does my daughter. He sailed, and then I heard of the fight for the first time.”

Howel laughed a little to himself.

”Master Evan must have paid my rascals well to keep up the story of the sick man to Thorgils, for he said nothing to me of any fight.

Maybe, however, he never spoke to any of them, and it is likely that they would not say much to him. And now, by the Round Table!

if you are not the mad Norseman they prated of to me when I wanted to know who slew the two men, and if you are not the sick man that Nona is so anxious about! Here, she must come and see you!”

With that he got up and went to the door before I could stay him, and called gaily to the princess, whose horse I could hear stamping high above us.

”Ho, Nona, here is a friend of yours whom you will be glad to see.

Ask Father Govan to let you come hither, and bid the men take your horse.”

So I must make the best of it, and I will say that I felt foolish enough. It was in my mind, though, that I owed many thanks to the princess for all her kind thought for me as sick man. I had already said as much to Howel. So I began to try to frame some sort of speech for her. One never remembers how such speeches always fail at the pinch.

The light footsteps came down the steps in no long time, and then the princess entered, dressed much as yesterday, with a bright colour from the wind, and looking round to see the promised friend.

”I have kept you long, daughter,” Howel said, taking her hand, ”but I have been hearing good news. Here is Oswald of Wess.e.x, a king's thane, but more than that to us, for he is the adopted son of your own G.o.dfather, Owen of Cornwall, and he brings the best of tidings of him.”

Now the maiden's face flushed with pleasure, and she held out her hand to me in frank welcome. Yet I saw a little wondering look on her face as she let her eyes linger on mine for a moment, and that puzzled me.

”You are most welcome, Thane,” she said. ”It is a wonderful thing that here I should learn that my lost G.o.dfather yet lives. You will come to Pembroke with us, and tell me of him there?”

Then Howel laughed as if he had a jest that would not keep, and he cried: ”Why, Nona, that is a mighty pretty speech, but surely one asks a sick man of his health first.”

She blushed a little, and glanced again at me.

”Surely the thane is not hurt?” she said.

”Yesterday he was, and that sorely. What was it, Thane?--Slipped shoulder, broken thigh, and broken jaw? All of which a certain maiden pitied most heartily, even to lending a blanket to the poor man.”