midst copses of mountain ash. From these more refined
contemplations he was roused by Sexwolf, who, with greater courtesy than
was habitual to him, accompanied the theowes who brought the knight a
repast, consisting of cheese, and small pieces of seethed kid, with a
large horn of very indifferent mead.

"The Earl puts all his men on Welch diet," said the captain,
apologetically. "For indeed, in this lengthy warfare, nought else is to
be had!"

The knight curiously inspected the cheese, and bent earnestly over the
kid.

"It sufficeth, good Sexwolf," said he, suppressing a natural sigh. "But
instead of this honey-drink, which is more fit for bees than for men, get
me a draught of fresh water: water is your only safe drink before
fighting."

"Thou hast never drank ale, then!" said the Saxon; "but thy foreign
tastes shall be heeded, strange man."

A little after noon, the horns were sounded, and the troop prepared to
depart. But the Norman observed that they had left behind all their
horses: and his squire, approaching, informed him that Sexwolf had
positively forbidden the knight's steed to be brought forth.

"Was it ever heard before," cried Sire Mallet de Graville, "that a Norman
knight was expected to walk, and to walk against a foe too! Call hither
the villein,--that is, the captain."

But Sexwolf himself here appeared, and to him De Graville addressed his
indignant remonstrance. The Saxon stood firm, and to each argument
replied simply, "It is the Earl's orders;" and finally wound up with a
bluff--"Go or let alone: stay here with thy horse, or march with us on
thy feet."

"My horse is a gentleman," answered the knight, "and, as such, would be
my more fitting companion. But as it is, I yield to compulsion--I bid
thee solemnly observe, by compulsion; so that it may never be said of
William Mallet de Graville, that he walked, bon gre, to battle." With
that, he loosened his sword in the sheath, and, still retaining his ring
mail, fitting close as a shirt, strode on with the rest.

A Welch guide, subject to one of the Underkings (who was in allegiance to
England, and animated, as many of those petty chiefs were, with a
vindictive jealousy against the rival tribe of Gryffyth, far more intense
than his dislike of the Saxon), led the way.

The road wound for some time along the course of the river Conway;
Penmaen-mawr loomed before them. Not a human being came in sight, not a
goat was seen on the distant ri