"Nay, but they are sly rogues at best!" retorted the old woman. "The first that came, took me for a witch, and was moderately civil, but the second took away my stool and threatened to set the dogs at me."

"If this be so, I will have him cow-hided; but tell me--what would you with me? Can I help you? Is it food that you want, or rest?"

"Truly it is both food and rest that I want, at the proper times, but what I want with you now, is to take me to your own room, and let me talk to you."

"That is a curious desire," returned Hafrydda, smiling, "but I will not deny you. Come this way. Have you anything secret to tell me?" she asked, when they were alone.

"Ay, that have I," answered the woman in her natural voice, throwing off her shawl and standing erect.

The princess remained speechless, for her friend Branwen stood before her.

"Before I utter a word of explanation," she said, "let me say that your brother is found, and safe, and well--or nearly so. This is the main thing, but I will not tell you anything more, unless you give me your solemn promise not to tell a word of it all to any one, till I give you leave. Do you promise?"

Hafrydda was so taken aback that she could do nothing for some time but gaze in the girl's face. Then she laughed in an imbecile sort of way.

Then she burst into tears of joy, threw her arms round her friend's neck, hugged her tight, and promised anything--everything--that she chose to demand.

When, an hour later, the Princess Hafrydda returned to the breakfast room, she informed the king and queen that the old woman was not a beggar; that she had kept her listening to a long story about lost men and women and robbers; that she was a thorough deceiver; that some of the servants believed her to be a witch, and that she had sent her away.

"With an invitation to come back again, I'll be bound," cried the king, interrupting. "It's always your way, my girl,--any one can impose on you."

"Well, father, she _did_ impose on me, and I _did_ ask her to come back again."

"I knew it," returned the king, with a loud laugh, "and she'll come, for certain."

"She will, you may be quite sure of that," rejoined the princess with a gleeful laugh, as she left the room.

About the same time, the little old woman left the palace and returned to the hut of the Hebrew.

Here, as she expected, she found that her escort had flown, and, a brief inspection of their footprints showed that, instead of proceeding towards the town, they had returned the way they came.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

FURTHER SEARCHINGS AND PERPLEXITIES.

While these events were taking place at court, the bold chief Gadarn was ranging the country far and wide in search of his daughter Branwen.

There was something in his manner which puzzled his followers not a little, for he seemed to have changed his character--at least to have added to it a strange, wild hilarity which suggested the idea that he enjoyed the hunt and was in no hurry that it should come to an end.

Those who knew him best began at last to fear that anxiety had unsettled his reason, and Bladud, who liked the man's gay, reckless disposition and hearty good-humour, intermingled with occasional bursts of fierce pa.s.sion, was not only puzzled but distressed by the wild inconsistency of his proceedings. The Hebrew, knowing to some extent the cause of what he did, and feeling bound by his promise to conceal his knowledge, was reduced to a state of mind that is not describable.

On the one hand there was the mystery of Cormac's total disappearance in a short walk of three miles. On the other hand, there was the utter uselessness of searching for Branwen, yet the urgent need of searching diligently for Cormac. Then there was the fear of consequences when the fiery Gadarn should come to find out how he had been deceived, or rather, what moderns might style humbugged; add to which he was debarred the solace of talking the subject over with Bladud, besides being, in consequence of his candid disposition, in danger of blurting out words that might necessitate a revelation. One consequence was that, for the time at least, the grave and amiable Hebrew became an abrupt, unsociable, taciturn man.

"What ails you just now, Beniah?" asked Bladud, one evening as they walked together to Gadarn's booth, having been invited to supper. "You seem out of condition mentally, if not bodily, as if some one had rubbed you the wrong way."

"Do I?" answered Beniah, with a frown and something between a grin and a laugh. "Well, it is not easy to understand one's mental complaints, much less to explain them."

Fortunately their arrival at the booth put a timely end to the conversation.

"Ha! my long-legged prince and stalwart Hebrew!" cried the jovial chief in a loud voice, "I began to fear that you had got lost--as folk seem p.r.o.ne to do in this region--or had forgotten all about us! Come in and sit ye down. Ho! varlet, set down the victuals. After all, you are just in the nick of time. Well, Beniah, what think you of our search to-day? Has it been close? Is it likely that we have missed any of the caves or cliffs where robbers might be hiding?"

"I think not. It seems to me that we have ransacked every hole and corner in which there is a chance that the lad could be found."

"The _lad_!" exclaimed Gadarn.

"I--I mean--your daughter," returned the Hebrew, quickly.

"Why don't you say what you mean, then? One expects a man of your years to talk without confusion--or is it that you are really more anxious about finding the boy than my girl?"

"Nay, that be far from me," answered the Hebrew. "To say truth, I am to the full as anxious to find the one as the other, for it matters not which you--"

"Matters not!" repeated Gadarn, fiercely.

"Well, of course, I mean that my friendship for you and Bladud makes me wish to see you each satisfied by finding both the boy and the girl."

"For my part," said Bladud, quietly, "I sincerely hope that we may find them both, for we are equally anxious to do so."

"Equally!" exclaimed Gadarn, with a look of lofty surprise. "Dost mean to compare your regard for your young friend with a father's love for his only child!"

The prince did not easily take offence, but he could not refrain from a flush and a frown as he replied, sharply--

"I make no useless comparisons, chief. It is sufficient that we are both full of anxiety, and are engaged in the same quest."

"Ay, the same quest--undoubtedly," observed the Hebrew in a grumbling, abstracted manner.

"If it were possible," returned Gadarn, sternly, "to give up the search for your boy and confine it entirely to my girl, I would do so. But as they went astray about the same place, we are compelled, however little we like it, to hunt together."

"Not compelled, chief," cried Bladud, with a look and a flash in his blue eye which presaged a sudden rupture of friendly relations. "We can each go our own way and hunt on our own account."

"Scarcely," replied the chief, "for if you found my daughter, you would be bound in honour to deliver her up; and if I found your boy, I should feel myself bound to do the same."

"It matters not a straw which is found," cried the Hebrew, exasperated at the prospect of a quarrel between the two at such an inopportune moment. "Surely, as an old man, I have the right to remonstrate with you for encouraging anything like disagreement when our success in finding the boy,--I--I mean the girl,--depends--"

A burst of laughter from the chief cut him short.

"You don't seem to be quite sure of what you mean," he cried, "or to be able to say it. Come, come, prince, if the Hebrew claims a right to remonstrate because he is twenty years or so older than I am, surely I may claim the same right, for I am full twenty years older than you. Is it seemly to let your hot young blood boil over at every trifle? Here, let me replenish your platter, for it is ill hunting after man, woman, or beast without a stomach full of victuals."

There was no resisting the impulsive chief.

Both his guests cleared their brows and laughed--though there was still a touch of exasperation in the Hebrew's tone.

While the search was being thus diligently though needlessly prosecuted in the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp by Gadarn, who was dearly fond of a practical joke, another chief, who was in no joking humour, paid a visit one evening to his mother. Perhaps it is unnecessary to say that this chief was Gunrig.

"From all that I see and hear, mother," he said, walking up and down the room, as was his habit, with his hands behind him, "it is clear that if I do not go about it myself, the king will let the matter drop; for he is convinced that the girl has run off with some fellow, and will easily make her way home."

"Don't you think he may be right, my son?"

"No, I don't, my much-too-wise mother. I know the girl better than that. It is enough to look in her face to know that she could not run away with any fellow!"

"H'm!" remarked the woman significantly.