ushed
into the water rather than face the enemy. Many leading men were
drowned, including Tany himself, the author of the treachery. Flushed
with this success Llewelyn rejected Peckham's terms. In great disgust
the archbishop went back to England, bitterly denouncing the Welsh. But
defeat only strengthened the iron resolution of Edward. He issued fresh
summonses for men and money. Contrary to all precedent, he determined
to continue the campaign through the winter.

Llewelyn was probably ignorant of the perilous plight into which the
king had fallen. With the approach of bad weather he became afraid that
he would be starved out in Snowdon. Any risk was better than being
caught like a rat in a trap, and, fearing lest a cordon should be drawn
round the mountains, he made his way southwards, leaving David in
command. His enemy, Roger Mortimer, was just dead, and Mortimer's
eldest son Edmund, a youth brought up for the clerical profession, was
not likely to hold the middle marches with the same strong grasp as his
father. Thither accordingly Llewelyn made his way, hoping that on his
approach the tribesmen of the upper Wye, over whom he had ruled so
long, would abandon their English lord for their Cymric chieftain. A
force gathered round him, and he occupied a strong position on a hill
overlooking the river Yrvon, which flows into the right bank of the
Wye, just above Builth. The right bank of the Yrvon was held by the
English of Builth. But the only way over the stream was by Orewyn
bridge, which was held by a detachment of the Welsh. Their position
seemed so secure that, on December 11, Llewelyn left his troops to
confer with some of the local chieftains. The English were, however,
shown a ford over the river; a band crossed in safety, and, taking the
defenders of Orewyn bridge in the rear, opened up the passage over it
to their comrades. The English ascended the hill, their mail-clad
squadrons interlaced with archers, in order that the Welsh infantry
might be assailed by missiles before they were exposed to the shock of
a cavalry charge. In the absence of their leader, the Welsh were a
helpless mass of sheep, and were easily put to flight. Meanwhile
Llewelyn, hearing the din of battle, hurried back to direct his
followers. On the way he was slain by Stephen of Frankton, a Shropshire
veteran of the Barons' War, who fought under the banner of Roger
l'Estrange. The discovery of important papers on the body first told
the co