atters, and was so
anxious for his own safety that he took good care not to drop a hint as
to the evil conduct of the people of Iscennen, which might draw upon
them the royal wrath and upon him instant death. He simply represented
that he was weary of his charge of this barren estate, that he preferred
life in England and at the court, and found the revenues very barren and
unprofitable. As the former owners had redeemed their character by quiet
conduct during the past year and a half, his gracious Majesty, he
hinted, might be willing to gratify them and their people by reinstating
them.
And when Edward read this report, and heard the opinion of the father
who had brought it -- a wily and a patriotic Welshman, who knew how to
plead his cause well -- he made no trouble about restoring to Llewelyn
and Howel their lands, only desiring that Wendot should renew his pledge
for their loyalty and good conduct, and still hold himself responsible
for his brothers to the king.
And so Llewelyn and Howel went back to Carregcennen, and Wendot and
Griffeth remained at Dynevor, hoping with a fond hope that this act of
clemency and justice on the part of Edward would overcome in the mind of
the twins the deeply-seated hatred they had cherished so long.
CHAPTER IX. THE RED FLAME OF WAR.
"Wendot, Wendot, it is our country's call! Thou canst not hang back.
United we stand; divided we fall. Will the Prince of Dynevor be the man
to bring ruin upon a noble cause, by banding with the alien oppressor
against his own brethren? I will not believe it of thee. Wendot, speak
-- say that thou wilt go with us!"
Wendot was standing in his own hall at Dynevor. In the background was a
crowd of retainers and soldiers, so eagerly discussing some matter of
vital interest that the brothers stepped outside upon the battlemented
terrace to be out of hearing of the noise of their eager voices.
There was a deep gravity on Wendot's face, which was no longer the face
of a boy, but of a youth of two-and-twenty summers, and one upon whom
the cares and responsibilities of life had sat somewhat heavily. The
tall, well-knit frame had taken upon it the stature and developed grace
of manhood; the sun-browned face was lined with traces of thought and
care, though the blue eyes sparkled with their old bright and ready
smile, and the stern lines of the lips were shaded and hidden by the
drooping moustache of golden brown. There were majesty, power, and
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