monk bade me give thee these tokens" (and the scout displayed
the broken torque which the King had left in the grasp of Harold,
together with a live falcon belled and blinded), "and bade me say thus to
the King: Harold the Earl greets Gryffyth, son of Llewellyn, and sends
him, in proof of good will, the richest prize he hath ever won from a
foe; and a hawk, from Llandudno;--that bird which chief and equal give to
equal and chief. And he prays Gryffyth, son of Llewellyn, for the sake
of his realm and his people, to grant hearing to his nuncius."

A murmur broke from the chiefs--a murmur of joy and surprise from all,
save the three conspirators, who interchanged anxious and fiery glances.
Gryffyth's hand had already closed, while he uttered a cry that seemed of
rapture, on the collar of gold; for the loss of that collar had stung
him, perhaps more than the loss of the crown of all Wales. And his
heart, so generous and large, amidst all its rude passions, was touched
by the speech and the tokens that honoured the fallen outlaw both as foe
and as king. Yet in his face there was still seen a moody and proud
struggle; he paused before he turned to the chiefs.

"What counsel ye--ye strong in battle, and wise in debate?" said he.

With one voice all, save the Fatal Three, exclaimed: "Hear the monk, O
King!"

"Shall we dissuade?" whispered Modred to the old chief, his accomplice.

"No; for so doing, we shall offend all:--and we must win all."

Then the bard stepped into the ring. And the ring was hushed, for wise
is ever the counsel of him whose book is the human heart.

"Hear the Saxons," said he, briefly, and with an air of command when
addressing others, which contrasted strongly his tender respect to the
King; "hear the Saxons, but not in these walls. Let no man from the foe
see our strength or our weakness. We are still mighty and impregnable,
while our dwelling is in the realm of the Unknown. Let the King, and his
officers of state, and his chieftains of battle, descend to the pass.
And behind, at the distance, let the spearmen range from cliff to cliff,
as a ladder of steel; so will their numbers seem the greater."

"Thou speakest well," said the King.

Meanwhile the knight and the monk waited below at that terrible pass
[170], which then lay between mountain and river, and over which the
precipices frowned, with a sense of horror and weight. Looking up, the
knight murmured:

"With those stones and crag