ke any notice of the stranger.

'Why is there such a bustle in your town this evening?' asked
Geraint, first of one person and then of another. But they hurried
past him, muttering, 'The Sparrow-hawk has his tournament here
to-morrow.'

'The Sparrow-hawk! that is a strange name,' thought Geraint. But he
did not know that this was one of the names of the knight he had
followed so far.

Soon Geraint reached a smithy, and he looked in, and saw that the
smith was busy sharpening swords and spears. 'I will go in and buy
arms,' thought Geraint.

And because the smith saw that the stranger was dressed like a
Prince, he stopped his work for a moment to speak to him.

'Arms?' he said, when Geraint told him what he wanted. 'There are
no arms to spare, for the Sparrow-hawk holds his tournament here
to-morrow.'

'The Sparrow-hawk again!' thought Geraint. 'I wonder who he can
be.' Then he turned to the smith again and said, 'Though you cannot
give me arms, perhaps you can tell me where to find food and a
bed.'

'The old Earl Yniol might give you shelter. He lives in that
half-ruined castle across the bridge,' said the smith. And he
turned again to his work, muttering, 'Those who work for the
Sparrow-hawk have no time to waste in talk.'

So Geraint rode wearily on across the bridge and reached the
castle. The courtyard was quite empty and looked very dreary, for
it was all overgrown with weeds and thistles. At the door of the
half-ruined castle stood the old Earl.

'It is growing late. Will you not come in and rest,' said Earl
Yniol, 'although the castle be bare, and the fare simple?'

And Geraint said he would like to stay there, for he was so hungry
that the plainest food would seem a feast.

As he entered the castle, he heard some one singing. The song was
so beautiful, and the voice was so pure and clear, that Geraint
thought it was the sweetest song in all the world, and the old
castle seemed less gloomy as he listened.

Then Earl Yniol led Geraint into a long low room, and this room was
both dining-room and kitchen.

The Earl's wife sat there, and she wore a dress that must have been
very grand once, but now it was old.

Beside her stood her beautiful daughter, and she wore a faded silk
gown, but Geraint thought he had never seen so fair a face.

'This is the maiden who sang the beautiful song,' he thought. 'If I
can win her for my bride, she shall come back with me to Queen
Guinevere. But the brightest si