ough a Saxon by
birth. Nevertheless he speaks our tongue well. He will tell you all
that presently, and I think that he needs your help."

"I thought you one of our troublesome neighbours, the Danes," he
said, with a smile now in place of the look of doubt. "But if you
are from Dyvnaint there are many things that you can tell me. But I
have come here to see that all is well with Father Govan, for there
is talk of a mad Norseman who is roving the country, unless the
cold has ended him in the night. It is good to see that nought is
wrong here."

Now I stood apart, and Govan and his guest spoke together for a few
moments before my turn to tell Howel of my plight should come, and
almost the next thing that the prince said made me wonder that I
had not thought who he was at once. Of course, he was the father of
the kindly princess who had crossed the sea with Thorgils, and had
so nearly been the means of my earlier rescue.

"Nona, my daughter, is here at the cliff top, Father Govan," Howel
said. "She came home in the Norse ship last night, as we planned;
but tide failed for Tenby, and it chanced that the ship had to put
in at the old landing place. Now she wants to thank you for your
prayers for her, and also to beg them for some sick man about whom
she is troubling herself--some poor hurt knave of a trader who
crossed in the ship with her."

"I will go out and speak with her," Govan said, smiling. "It is
ever her way to think of the troubled."

"Tell her that I will not keep her long in the cold," Howel said.
"Bid her keep her horse walking, lest he take chill, if I may ask
as much, Father."

Govan threw his cowl over his head, and answered:

"I will tell her. Now, Prince, this friend of mine has come here in
a strange way, and I think he needs help that you can give him."

He passed out of the cliffward door and went his way up the long
stairway. Then Howel asked me how he could help me.

"Tell me about Dyvnaint also, for when I was a boy I was long at
Gerent's court. Did not Govan say that you were fostered by one of
the princes? It is likely that I knew your foster father well, if
so; was he Morgan?"

"Not Morgan, but Owen," I answered, and at that Howel almost
started to his feet.

"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 Ow