"If the Rusiaid beat us," said the waggoner, "it is because the Francod are with us. We should have gone alone."

"Perhaps you are right," said I; "at any rate, we could not have fared worse than we are faring now."

I presently paid for what I had had, inquired the way to Llan Rhyadr, and departed. The village of Llanarmon takes its name from its church, which is dedicated to Garmon, an Armorican bishop, who, with another called Lupus, came over into Britain in order to preach against the heresy of Pelagius. He and his colleague resided for some time in Flintshire, and whilst there enabled, in a remarkable manner, the Britons to achieve a victory over those mysterious people the Picts, who were ravaging the country far and wide. Hearing that the enemy were advancing towards Mold, the two bishops gathered together a number of the Britons, and placed them in ambush in a dark valley, through which it was necessary for the Picts to pa.s.s in order to reach Mold, strictly enjoining them to remain quiet till all their enemies should have entered the valley, and then do whatever they should see them, the two bishops, do. The Picts arrived, and when they were about half-way through the valley, the two bishops stepped forward from a thicket, and began crying aloud, "Alleluia!" The Britons followed their example, and the wooded valley resounded with cries of "Alleluia! alleluia!" The shouts and the unexpected appearance of thousands of men caused such terror to the Picts, that they took to flight in the greatest confusion, hundreds were trampled to death by their companions, and not a few were drowned in the river Alan {371} which runs through the valley.

There are several churches dedicated to Garmon in Wales, but whether there are any dedicated to Lupus I am unable to say.

After leaving Llanarmon I found myself amongst lumpy hills, through which the road led in the direction of the south. Arriving where several roads met, I followed one, and became bewildered amidst hills and ravines. At last I saw a small house close by a nant, or dingle, and turned towards it for the purpose of inquiring my way. On my knocking at the door, a woman made her appearance, of whom I asked in Welsh whether I was in the road to Llan Rhyadr. She said that I was out of it, but that if I went towards the south I should see a path on my left which would bring me to it. I asked her how far it was to Llan Rhyadr.

"Four long miles," she replied.

"And what is the name of the place where we are now?" said I.

"Cae Hir" (the long inclosure), said she.

"Are you alone in the house?" said I.

"Quite alone," said she; "but my husband and people will soon be home from the field, for it is getting dusk."

"Have you any Saxon?" said I.

"Not a word," said she, "have I of the iaith dieithr, nor has my husband, nor any one of my people."

I bade her farewell, and soon reached the road, which led south and north. As I was bound for the south, I strode forward briskly in that direction. The road was between romantic hills; heard Welsh songs proceeding from the hill fields on my right, and the murmur of a brook rushing down a deep nant on my left. I went on till I came to a collection of houses which an old woman, with a cracked voice and a small tin milk-pail, whom I a.s.sisted in getting over a stile into the road, told me was called Pen Strit-probably the head of the street. She spoke English, and on my asking her how she had learnt the English tongue, she told me that she had learnt it of her mother, who was an English woman.

She said that I was two miles from Llan Rhyadr, and that I must go straight forward. I did so, till I reached a place where the road branched into two, one bearing somewhat to the left, and the other to the right. After standing a minute in perplexity I took the right-hand road, but soon guessed that I had taken the wrong one, as the road dwindled into a mere footpath. Hearing some one walking on the other side of the hedge, I inquired in Welsh whether I was going right for Llan Rhyadr, and was answered by a voice in English, apparently that of a woman, that I was not, and that I must go back. I did so, and presently a woman came through a gate to me.

"Are you the person," said I, "who just now answered me in English after I had spoken in Welsh?"

"In truth I am," said she, with a half laugh.

"And how came you to answer me in English, after I had spoken to you in Welsh?"

"Because," said she, "it was easy enough to know by your voice that you were an Englishman."

"You speak English remarkably well," said I.

"And so do you Welsh," said the woman; "I had no idea that it was possible for any Englishman to speak Welsh half so well."

"I wonder," thought I to myself, "what you would have answered if I had said that you speak English execrably." By her own account, she could read both Welsh and English. She walked by my side to the turn, and then up the left-hand road, which she said was the way to Llan Rhyadr. Coming to a cottage, she bade me good-night, and went in. The road was horribly miry; presently, as I was staggering through a slough, just after I had pa.s.sed a little cottage, I heard a cracked voice crying, "I suppose you lost your way?" I recognised it as that of the old woman whom I had helped over the stile. She was now standing behind a little gate, which opened into a garden before the cottage. The figure of a man was standing near her. I told her that she was quite right in her supposition.

"Ah," said she, "you should have gone straight forward."

"If I had gone straight forward," said I, "I must have gone over a hedge, at the corner of a field which separated two roads; instead of bidding me go straight forward, you should have told me to follow the left-hand road."

"Well," said she, "be sure you keep straight forward now."

I asked her who the man was standing near her.

"It is my husband," said she.

"Has he much English?" said I.

"None at all," said she, "for his mother was not English, like mine." I bade her good-night, and went forward. Presently I came to a meeting of roads, and to go straight forward it was necessary to pa.s.s through a quagmire; remembering, however, the words of my friend the beldame, I went straight forward, though in so doing I was sloughed up to the knees.

In a little time I came to a rapid descent, and at the bottom of it to a bridge. It was now very dark; only the corner of the moon was casting a faint light. After crossing the bridge I had one or two ascents and descents. At last I saw lights before me, which proved to be those of Llan Rhyadr. I soon found myself in a dirty little street, and, inquiring for the inn, was kindly shown by a man to one which he said was the best, and which was called the Wynstay Arms.

CHAPTER LXV

Inn at Llan Rhyadr-A Low Englishman-Enquiries-The Cook-A Precious Couple.

The inn seemed very large, but did not look very cheerful. No other guest than myself seemed to be in it, except in the kitchen, where I heard a fellow talking English, and occasionally yelling an English song; the master and mistress of the house were civil, and lighted me a fire in what was called the Commercial Room, and putting plenty of coals in the grate, soon made the apartment warm and comfortable. I ordered dinner, or rather supper, which in about half-an-hour was brought in by the woman. The supper, whether good or bad, I despatched with the appet.i.te of one who had walked twenty miles over hill and dale.

Occasionally I heard a dreadful noise in the kitchen, and the woman told me that the fellow there was making himself exceedingly disagreeable, chiefly, she believed, because she had refused to let him sleep in the house-she said that he was a low fellow, that went about the country with fish, and that he was the more ready to insult her as the master of the house was now gone out. I asked if he was an Englishman. "Yes," said she, "a low Englishman."

"Then he must be low indeed," said I. "A low Englishman is the lowest of the low." After a little time I heard no more noise, and was told that the fellow was gone away. I had a little whisky and water, and then went to bed, sleeping in a tolerable chamber, but rather cold. There was much rain during the night, and also wind; windows rattled, and I occasionally heard the noise of falling tiles.

I arose about eight. Notwithstanding the night had been so tempestuous, the morning was sunshiny and beautiful. Having ordered breakfast, I walked out in order to have a look at the town. Llan Rhyadr is a small place, having nothing remarkable in it save an ancient church, and a strange little antique market-house, standing on pillars. It is situated at the western end of an extensive valley, and at the entrance of a glen.

A brook, or rivulet, runs through it, which comes down the glen from the celebrated cataract, which is about four miles distant to the west. Two lofty mountains form the entrance of the glen, and tower above the town, one on the south and the other on the north. Their names, if they have any, I did not learn.

After strolling about the little place for about a quarter of an hour, staring at the things and the people, and being stared at by the latter, I returned to my inn, a structure built in the modern Gothic style, and which stands nearly opposite to the churchyard. Whilst breakfasting, I asked the landlady, who was bustling about the room, whether she had ever heard of Owen Glendower.

"In truth, sir, I have. He was a great gentleman who lived a long time ago, and, and-"

"Gave the English a great deal of trouble," said I.

"Just so, sir; at least, I dare say it is so, as you say it."

"And do you know where he lived?"

"I do not, sir; I suppose a great way off, somewhere in the south."

"Do you mean South Wales?"

"In truth, sir, I do."

"There you are mistaken," said I; "and also in supposing he lived a great way off. He lived in North Wales, and not far from this place."

"In truth, sir, you know more about him than I."

"Did you ever hear of a place called Sycharth?"

"Sycharth! Sycharth! I never did, sir."

"It is the place where Glendower lived, and it is not far off. I want to go there, but do not know the way."

"Sycharth! Sycharth!" said the landlady musingly; "I wonder if it is the place we call Sychnant."